Liberty High, Three Rivers Pennsylvania

Kissing Jordan Catalano was something Charlie thought about, but figured he would never get around to doing. The timing was never right, and he couldn't see a way to bring it up.

Hey man, mind if I kiss you? was a good way to get punched in the face and then jumped after school by a bunch of that guy's friends. Not that Jordan seemed like that type of guy, it was just smart not to find out. But, Charlie and Jordan hung out a lot, and sometimes, when they got high, Charlie thought about it.

They were braced against the wall in the bathroom, a trash can pushed up against the door, and an out of order sign up outside, lighting up and enjoying the buzz when Charlie went for it.

He leaned in, and brushed his mouth softly over Jordan's. It wasn't a lingering kiss or anything that the girls sighed over when it happened in the movies, just tentative, but unmistakable.

Jordan blinked at Charlie, blue eyes blank, but fixing on him more clearly as he processed what had just happened.

Charlie shrugged. “I've been wanting to do that for awhile.”

“Okay,” Jordan said. “What did you say about mangoes?”

“As a fruit they're underrated.”

“Mmm.” Charlie rolled a little closer after that, not trying it again, but thinking about it, how Jordan's mouth felt, the stubble on his cheeks.

Jordan let his hair grow long, and sometimes, when they were stretched out on the floor, Charlie would angle himself so he could pet Jordan's hair. He didn't try to, exactly, it was there, and he got fixated on textures when he was high. He didn't like strange sounds so much, though, so Jordan never said they should go down to the basement, because he knew it made Charlie freak out a little.

And once Jordan began bringing Angela there, to the neutral ground between the classrooms and the outside, Charlie really stayed away from that place.

In spite of having been held back twice, Jordan never thought he wasn't going to eventually graduate, and after his fifth breakup with Angela Chase, he seemed inspired to get out of town.

When Jordan graduated, everybody in town was surprised, and were even more shocked that he didn't stick around. Charlie, had a choice on which college he was going to attend, but Jordan's way out was with his band, and nobody expected it to really go anywhere.

“With a name like The Frozen Embryos, who's going to want to listen to them?” asked the manager of the grocery store. “I think they changed it,” said Mrs. Chase. “Angela told me it's Residue now.”

“Whatever they're calling themselves, I bet those kids will be back here in six months. The factory is hiring, or a couple of them could get a a job at the car dealership.” “I don't think they're interested in that kind of work,” Mrs. Chase said and saw Charlie.

“Hi, Charles, how's your mother doing?”

He didn't hear anything else about Jordan Catalano for the next few years. Charlie went out of state for college, graduated, and in a move that confounded his parents, decided to enter the police academy.

"You don't have to do something crazy to prove anything," his mother said. She was cutting vegetables for dinner, and the sharp thud of the knife against the cutting board was muted by the television in the next room. Charlie watched her hands move, efficient, quick, and trembling slightly as she worked. She kept her eyes down when she was angry, not wanting anyone to see how upset she was, but Charlie knew.

"I want to do this, Mom," Charlie said and got a plate out of the cupboard and holding it so that she could scrape the peelings onto it.

"You want to do some good, I know." She shook her head, and glanced up at him hard for a moment. "Hand me the olive oil," she said and that was the only time they talked about it.

The call came through dispatch at 2240, a fight at a nightclub, two people had been injured. Reese glared at the angel figurine attached to her dashboard. "I thoguht I got rid of that." "I found another one. I think it adds something to the atmosphere."

"Yeah, nothing good."

"A sense of whimsy," Charlie said, smiling at the statue. "Everyone should take time to be whimsical, Reese."

"Well you can be whimsical off the clock, right now we've got witnesses to interview." She stared at Charlie. "You ready to do that, or do you need to stay in the car?" "

I'm good."

Someone on the staff had lured several people to the club and then bribed the bartender into letting them handle the drinks.

"He was going to leave me," the waiter insisted. "But he's just confused, she did this to him." As he was led out in handcuffs, the man continued to insist that he'd had no other option.

"Pretty sure of himself," Bobby said and Reese looked disapproving.

"That'll only last until he figures out he's being charged with assault."

"Maybe it was worth it, for him," Charlie said. Bobby and Reese blinked, and Reese sighed.

"Come on, Crews, it's open and shut for once, let's enjoy it and get out of here."

Charlie shrugged and was following Reese out when he saw a poster. The name of the band wasn't familiar, but he'd been away and had no idea what was popular. The singer, though, was someone he knew and Charlie stepped in to get a better look.

"Hey, does anybody know who this is?" Charlie asked the room at large. One of the waitresses who was herding the other staff paused beside Charlie. "Yeah, I do."

Charlie glanced at her name tag. "Simone, where do you know him from?"

"That's Jordan Catalano, he's a singer in Lead Balloon."

"They're a band."

"Where have you been? Catalano doesn't do many tours, he mostly collaborates with other artists at his studio, but he puts out solo albums every couple of years."

"Lead Balloon?"

"That's the band he tours with, Tino, the owner does backup vocals and keyboards." The woman gave Charlie an assessing once over. "Did you want me to burn you a copy of their latest album?"

Reese appeared next to Charlie and smiled at him warningly. "Detective Crews, we need to get going."

"Oh, right." Charlie shook Simone's hand. "Thanks for your time."

"No problem." Simone's fingers rested on Charlie's wrist. "If you have any other questions, call and ask for me."

"Why does that seem to happen everywhere you go?" Reese asked. "Some things never change," Bobby said.

Charlie let them bicker around him and when he was sitting in the car while Reese parked in his driveway, he thought aloud. "I think I'm going to go to a concert."

"Not tonight," Reese said and motioned to the door. "Go on home, get some sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Do you know where Lead Balloon plays?"

"Good night, Crews." Reese drove off and Charlie stood in the rock garden until Ted told him to come inside.

In prison, Charlie learned how to sleep with intent, to recharge, but at the same time, to be alert. He didn't need a lot of rest now, so he used the time to figure things out. When he typed Jordan Catalano into a search engine, he turned up headlines almost going back to high school.

Jordan used to talk about going someplace with his band, and it looked like all that determination had finally proved him right. When he tapped out a request for concert dates, Charlie found that Jordan Catalano was performing for an intimate audience later in the month.

Following the link, Charlie found directions and noted the date. On the evening of the concert, Charlie had Bobby drop him off several blocks from the club and smiled when his old partner began lecturing him. "You just watch yourself, Charlie, this isn't the best neighborhood anymore, so be careful."

"Don't worry, Bobby, I'll call you as soon as I get inside," Charlie said.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I sound like my wife, get off my back, Charlie, and act like a cop after dark."

"Sure thing, Dad," Charlie said and Bobby flipped him off as he pulled away from the curb.

The man at the doorway stepped into Charlie's path like a mountain that had decided to up and move. He eyed Charlie stonily, letting him pass only when he was satisfied that Charlie wasn't carrying anything objectionable. Charlie smiled, not put off by the man's glowering, and stepped inside. He was struck immediately by the flashing lights and bass that made the floor quiver. People laughed and called out to one another, and sipped a rainbow of drinks. Beyond the crowd dancing spastically, Charlie saw another room and heard the faint noise of speakers spitting out static.

Pushing through the gyrating couples, Charlie smiled and avoided friendly hands, both men and women to make his way to the music.

"You here to see Catalano?" a kid with brown hair slicked straight up into the air and glitter on his cheeks.

"I am," Charlie said.

"You need a stamp," the boy said, and Charlie let him put a neon mark on his hand. "Thanks."

"No problem. Is Catalano here yet?"

"He'll show up." The boy stepped away and greeted another person. Charlie found a spot along the wall, folded his coat and leaned against it, knowing he looked less like a cop with his sleeves unbuttoned and a pleasantly vague expression on his face. Voices rose shrilly at a side door, taking on that particular hysteria which Charlie associated with celebrity sightings.

Jordan Catalano walked in, brushing long dark hair out of his face, and heading directly on stage. An assistant dragged a stool forward, and arranged the microphone to his height as Jordan sat down. He tipped the mike downwards and spoke softly but clearly. "Thanks for coming, everyone, I'm going to do some older material, and then some tracks from the new album." He gave the audience a searching glance and smiled. "Any requests?"

"Red," called a woman leaning on the edge of the stage. "It's so pretty." Charlie laughed, and the man next to him looked over.

"It's not about a girl," Charlie said in explanation, and got another confused stare. "He wrote it when he was in high school," Charlie said. "And it wasn't for a girl."

"How do you know that?"

"We went to the same high school," Charlie said and turned toward the stage as Jordan began playing.

I'm going nowhere, Going nowhere fast

As he sang, Jordan surveyed the audience, taking in their reactions, and Charlie felt the moment when he was picked out of the crowd, and Jordan smiled, and directed the last line to Charlie.

Late at night she keeps me warm, I call her Red

The guy who Charlie had talked to caught the look and raised his eyebrows. "No, I guess it wasn't about a girl."

"I'm not Red," Charlie said. "That was his car."

"Sure."

"People always think songs are about people, sometimes they're just about things. That doesn't make them any less significant."

"Whatever." The guy gave Charlie another disbelieving look, and moved off into the crowd. Charlie shook his head. Some people just didn't know what to make of the truth. Jordan sang songs from his upcoming album, and sat on the stage and answered questions after he finished. He posed for pictures for a few more minutes, and then waved to the people gathered around him and turned away. His bodyguards stepped in, keeping some of the more excited fans from actually hanging on Jordan's arms as the musician headed over to where Charlie was standing.

Flicking his hair out of his eyes, Jordan gave Charlie a long look. "Didn't expect to see you, Crews."

"I heard you were doing a show and I should check it out." "Glad you did." There was a pause, and Charlie knew it could turn awkward like so many conversations, so he plowed on. "Are you busy?" "Did you want to hang out?" Jordan asked. "Sure." Jordan glanced at his bodyguards and the people still milling around. "I'd love to get out of here." Charlie grinned. "You could come over to my house." "Have you got cookies?" "No, but I know there's fruit in the fridge." "I can live with that." The men following Jordan around weren't more than expressionless when they were told where their charge was going, and Charlie directed them to his house without any trouble. Sometimes reporters still tried to get onto the property to talk to Charlie, and most of the time, Ted went out to deal with them. Tonight, the bodyguards parked their van just inside the gate and positioned themselves strategically to prevent any unwanted company from entering. Jordan didn't give his bodyguards another glance, but he smiled when he saw Charlie watching them. "It's not like we won't get followed, but this way we don't have to deal with the cameras." "What would they say?" "Anything they can think of," Jordan said. "The crazier the better."

Charlie led the way up to the house, and Jordan peeked inside but didn't comment on the lack of furniture. He gave Charlie another long look, but didn't ask. "I wondered what happened to you," Charlie said. "And then I saw you in all those magazines." "Back at you," Jordan said. "Yeah, I was in a lot of them," Charlie said. Before and after the trial, it had been big news for a cop to be accused of the crime he'd been convicted for, and then when his case was reopened, there were a lot of fingers being pointed. He didn't give interviews, so the reporters talked to everyone else who had ever met him, trying to turn his life into something they could sell. Charlie figured that Jordan knew something about that. "You don't want to talk about it?" Charlie asked. "I know you," Jordan said, "and the rest of it isn't my business." He paused. "You're okay now, though?" "I'm working through some things," Charlie said and sat down beside the pool. The lights under the water looked like distorted sea creatures when he stared down at them, and Charlie frowned, head on one side and then took off his shoes. Jordan stared at him, and then took a seat beside him, sitting cross legged, keeping his feet dry while Charlie idly splashed in the water. "What are we doing?" Jordan asked. He didn't sound impatient or confused, only interested in what was going on. "Sitting by the pool. Catching up." "Okay." Jordan considered that, and then said gently. "We're not talking, Charlie." "Sometimes two people just have to be in the same place to know what they need to about the other person." "Is that Zen?" Jordan asked. "Could be." Other people got annoyed when Charlie wasn't in the same mental hemisphere as they were, but at least his partner had gotten used to it. People he had just met thought it was funny or wanted to know whether they could get him some professional help. Jordan didn't depend on him to focus on the job, and had never cared about keeping up with expectations. “You always liked that kind of stuff,” Jordan said. “Does it make things easier?” “Some of it.” Other things, Charlie didn't have answers for yet, but he was getting used to asking questions. "Why did you come with me?" Charlie asked.

"Maybe I just wanted to," Jordan said. Charlie nodded. "But that's not all of it."

"No," Jordan said. He leaned closer, and touched Charlie on the cheek, turning his head to face Jordan. Then he tilted his head and kissed Charlie lightly on the mouth.

"What was that?" Charlie asked.

"Nothing, or something. Depends on how you want to take it."

"I think," Charlie said, laying back and smiling up at Jordan, "that you need to do that again and I'll tell you." -end