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“Something’s up with Lassie,” Shawn muttered, partly to himself but also to Gus, who sat right next to him, devouring a whole box of sugary doughnuts.
“When is there not?” He reminded Shawn, spitting flecks of sugar everywhere on the floor, like snow. Or dandruff.
Shawn ignored him, not taking his eyes off of Lassiter. “No, something’s definetley up with Lassie…”
The man in question was currently tapping his foot on the ground and bobbing his head in time with a tune as he did… paperwork? On a boring, run-of-the-mill homicide case? Nuh-uh. Carlton Lassiter does not smile, and tap his heels when he walks to get some shitty, free coffee from the table. Especially considering that they’re out of sugar (Gus had used all of it to ‘season his doughnuts’).
“What could make a Lassie so chipper on a Tuesday morning?”
Gus momentarily passed his scoffing to correct his best friend, “First of all, Shawn, it is Thursday afternoon. Second of all, why do you care?”
“Because,” Shawn turned to him. “I’m bored. We haven’t had any calls in a week-“
“-three days.”
“-and I just want something to pass the time.”
Gus rolled his eyes. “You and your issues, Shawn. If you want to go over to Lassie and have small talk, go ahead.“ As he finished his bite and sentence, his phone pinged very loudly with the sound of a text. He smiled, wiped the end of his nose like he normally did, and chuckled. “You do you. I have a date with a ‘Marisol Flores’.”
Instead of dismissing him with a wave of the hand or an actual ‘goodbye’, Shawn continued to sit and stare intently at Lassiter.
“Wait!” He called out to Gus, who was just about to walk away. “That’s it!”
“What is?”
“Gus, you genius!” Shawn shot up into his feet and grinned at his best friend. “Your magic head never fails!”
Gus grinned back. “You know that’s right.”
“C’mon, we gotta go!” Shawn exclaimed, grabbing Gus’ hand and dragging him through the slightly crowded station to the door.
***
“This is crazy, Shawn,” Gus grumbled at him, continuing to walk up the pathway right next to him with no sign of turning back. “Crazy even for you.”
What was so ‘crazy’, wasn’t what they were doing, but what they had done.
In the car ride from the station, Shawn had explained to Gus that Lassiter had to be dating someone that he liked. The only time they had seen him act chipper in that way was when he had a good date with a girl a few months back (who left him after two weeks), but still.
And Shawn being Shawn - bored and extremely skilled at investigation - had spent the day with Gus following footprints that lead up to this house.
First, they had broken into Lassiter’s house (they climbed into a window) and started snooping for clues. Shawn had found a crumpled receipt from a pretty fancy restaurant: one share platter, a bottle of red wine and a basket of bread. Not bad, Lassie! He also found a piece of paper with a number and ‘see you one Thursday x’ scribbled onto it, and slipped it into his pocket.
“Shawn, look,” Gus had called to him from the study. Lassiter had left his laptop open. Foolish mistake. He, of all people, should know that objects containing personal information about him should be locked away when one becomes aquantances with Shawn Spencer.
On Lassiter’s laptop, they found a face book profile he had just followed with a handful of posts from a ‘Max Ward’.
“Sounds cute,” Gus had remarked, wiping his nose again.
All of her posts didn’t have any people. They were all just boring plants and landscapes.
“Landscape photos aren’t ’boring’, Shawn. They’re vital in geographical documentation.”
Whatever. But, the psychic did notice some hints in a post captioned, “I absolutely love this park! I come here almost every day!”. There was a bright red toothpaste billboard in the background and a techno-coloured kite stuck in the tallest tree.
“I know where that is,” Shawn had realised.
“So? How does that help?”
Shawn spun around to him as they walked right out of Lassiter’s house. “Because who goes to a park ‘daily’ that’s more than a block away?”
“Someone who wants to get there steps in?” Gus had counter-argued in the hopes of showing off his physical fitness.
“Let’s see what the phone book has to say,” Shawn grinned, holding up the phone number paper with his fingers.
Here. The phone book said - as of just two years ago - that this was the house of ‘Max Ward’. Lassiter’s new girlfriend. The bright red toothpaste billboard could be seen farther away in the distant to support this.
“Why are we even knocking on her door?” Gus asked, placing his hands on his hips. “What’s your plan, Shawn?”
Shawn dismissively hushed him. “Just follow my lead.”
The pair hopped up onto the wooden porch as the sun began to set over Santa Barbara. By the time Shawn had found the address from the library’s phone book, the two were very hungry and spent the rest of the day at the office eating and playing video games. Shawn came up with an evil idea to show up when he knew Lassiter would be at the house. Just to put salt on his wounds.
Shawn rang the doorbell.
“Coming,” came a sing-song-y voice from behind the door. Despite its sweet and soft sounding tones, it was deep. It was a man’s voice.
The door opened and - lo and behold - it was a man. “Can I help you?”
The man had a bright and welcoming smile, with perfect teeth, too. Wow. Those are the kinds you find in Turkey. He also had soft, chocolate coloured hair and a well kept beard - not too long that he looked homeless, not too short that he looked hipster. His emerald eyes glinted in the golden sunlight.
“Shawn, that’s a man.”
Shawn whispered to his side, reminding his best friend to ”follow my lead-“, then he turned on the charm and returned to the man in front of him. “-Hey, there. We’re looking for a ‘Max Ward’. She left her… charger at our office.”
The man frowned, “I don’t know any girl called ‘Max Ward’, I’m afraid.-”
Gus sucked his teeth. “What did I say, Shawn? You’ve gone and gotten the wrong house. Let’s go, my show’s gonna be on in thirty minutes.“
“Hmm. Strange, a girl definetley came by our office a few hours ago who said she lived here,” the psychic lied through his teeth. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“No, I live alone.” Uhh. “But, if it makes any sense, I’m Max Ward. Could I be the person you’re looking for?”
“You’re Max Ward?” Gus chimes in, stepping forward in confusion. “How?”
Before Shawn could crack a joke or ask a question or say anything, a second, much deeper and threatening but oh, so familiar voice echoed out from inside the house. “Max, is everything ok?”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh no.
This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Everything’s so different now, Shawn couldn’t do this. He needs to grab Gus by his bobbly shoulders and get out of there as quickly as possible. Shawn could make fun of Lassie to the moon and back for his taste in women but this was much different. And this just seemed so strange. This ‘Max Ward’ was nothing like Lassiter in every way.
“Who is that? I thought you said you lived alone,” Gus questioned, gradually taking over Shawn’s role in this scenario as the interrogator.
“Oh, he’s just my date,” Max smiled. “Are you sure I can’t help you two with anything?”
This is your chance, Shawn! Say ‘no’ and run for the hills. Skidaddle! Scram! Scatter! Whatever! Just get out of there and never come back.
“Well, there might be…” Shawn stalled.
And just as those words left his lips, Carlton Lassiter appeared behind the man at the door, confused and irritated, then horrified. “Christ, Max, what’s taking you- oh dear god.”
“Lassie? What are you doing here?” Gus - completely oblivious to the situation - asked him with a furrowed brow.
“Lassie! There you are, man! What is up?!” Shawn called out to him.
Lassiter’s face twisted into one of pure rage and threat. He stormed up to the front door and looked behind Max. “What the hell are you two doing here?”
Max stood there with a dazed and slightly afraid, but nonetheless warm expression on his face as his eyes darted from Shawn to Lassiter. “I’m sorry, do you two know each other?”
“Gus, why don’t you start up the car?” Shawn subtly told him to get lost.
“Nuh-uh, not until I figure out what’s going on here.”
The pair of friends looked at each other, then turned their gaze to Lassiter as he quietly cooled down and gathered himself.
Max looked back and forth, then excused himself and disappeared inside his house, leaving Lassiter and his two problems to themselves.
Defeated, he rested his against the door frame, knocking it against it a few times before standing up and sighing. “Fine. You win. I’m dating a man. I’m pansexual.”
Woah.
“Lassie, what is up!” Shawn held out his fist. Lassiter grimaced in response.
“You’re gay?!” His best friend gawked.
“Don’t,” Lassiter barked at him.
“You know what, Shawn? Maybe I should go start up the car,” Gus smiled an unsettling smile and strode away, heel-toe, heel-toe.
Once Gus was out of frame, the remaining pair turned their attention to each other. The world seemed so much smaller now, like it was just the two of them left on earth with nothing but the bird’s song and the sun set.
“Is this what you wanted? You happy?” Lassiter asked him. His voice was blank and dead. He seemed tired. Drained. Upset.
“I’m sorry, but…” Shawn suddenly felt guilty, like he had ruined part of Lassiter’s life. Again. Shawn never felt guilty over messing with Lassiter’s love life. In fact, he enjoyed it. Why was this so much different, then? Was it because it was a man? That shouldn’t mean anything… right? “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Lassiter looked intensely at Shawn. “This is why. Maybe I’m the stupid one for thinking - just this once - I could keep something nice just for myself… away from your greasy little hands and everyone else’s prying eyes. One part of me that no one would ever know unless I wanted them to. So I could separate professional from personal.”
The psychic opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t get anything out. No words seemed to fit the situation.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Spencer,” Lassiter closed the door.
In an instant, Shawn had his fingers gripping onto the edge of the door, holding it open. “Lassie, wait!”
He paused, expectantly.
“I’m sorry.”
There was a moment when nothing happened that felt like everything. The tweeting of the birds, the last rays of sun, the distant traffic far, far away.
“Goodbye, Shawn.”
And the door was shut. A lot of doors were shut.