“I would’ve brought you something if I had known.”
“You’re going to get in trouble if you get caught, you know?”
“I’m not going to get caught.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
Jamie sipped the juice. His hunger seemingly-sated, he set the half-eaten roll and its complete companion down along with the juice and turned his attention on Dakota. “I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
“I know.”
“I’m serious, Dakota.” He paused. The tone in his eyes changed so dramatically that a pang of confusion rumbled throughout Dakota’s chest. “About what happened the other day…I shouldn’t have dumped that on you.”
“I understand.”
“I hardly know anything about you and you seem to know my whole life story.”
“Not really.”
“Well, it basically goes something like this—I was born in 1986 in Rigby, Idaho. My dad died in the Gulf War when I was five, so, naturally, I was a bit lost growing up. In 2004, I turned eighteen, joined the army, and was immediately sent to Iraq. I was there right up until I came back home four months ago.”
“Eight years,” Dakota mumbled.
“I can’t say it was fun, but I was lost and didn’t know what else to do. I figured I owed it to my dad to serve the country he died for.”
“I can understand that.”
“What about you? Where’d you come from?”
“I was born up the road,” Dakota said. “Lived there until all of this happened. You know the rest of the story—mom died when I was eleven, dad ran off shortly after.”
“Who did you live with?”
“I lived in a foster home.”
“No relatives?”
“Dad’s lived overseas. Mom was the last in her family.”
“Oh,” Jamie said. “You care if I ask you something else while we’re at it?”
“Go ahead.”
“How come you seemed so nervous last night at dinner?”
“It’s not that.”
“You can be completely honest with me. I know some people have problems with soldiers.”
“It’s really not that,” Dakota sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets. “It’s just…I don’t know.”
“You can tell me if something’s wrong.”
“Can I tell you that I’m gay?”
Jamie didn’t respond. He simply sat there, indifferent.
Great.
“That’s why you were nervous?”
“You’re a good-looking guy, Jamie. I won’t lie when I say I have a crush on you.”
“That’s cool.”
“So…you’re not bothered by it?”
“No. Why would I be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me.”
“Well I personally don’t give a shit, but I wouldn’t go broadcasting it if I were you.”
“You don’t think anything would happen, do you?”
“I’m not asking you to go back in the closet,” Jamie said, “but I don’t doubt that Kirn or Wills could get a stick up their ass and decide to fuck with you just because you’ve got a hole to fuck with.”
“In harsher terms than I expected.”
“I’m just saying watch your back. I’m sure you already know that though.”
“I do.”
“Good.” Jamie nodded. “I hate to kick you out, but it might be best if you leave before they get back.”
“Ok. Thank you, Jamie.”
“No, thank you.”
Dakota pressed his hand to the doorknob and opened the door.
A wave of relief washed over him the moment he stepped out of the room.
“Two times and you haven’t been caught,” Steve laughed, slapping Dakota’s arm. “You’re getting pretty lucky there, kid.”
“I guess,” Dakota said, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“You seem down.”
“I’m not.”
“You know,” Steve said, placing his hands behind his head as they continued down the hallway, “that kind of thing ain’t good for ya.”
“What?”
“Hanging around people who depress you. It’s not good for your health.”
“What’re you talking about, Steve?”
“The last two times you’ve gone to see Jamie, you’ve come back all moody and shit.”
“It’s not like I can help it,” Dakota shrugged. “Besides, I’m not moody. Just indifferent.”
“About?”
“Our current situation.” Dakota stopped. Steve continued forward a few more places, but paused when he saw that Dakota wasn’t following him. A single rise of one of Steve’s inquisitive eyebrows made him frown even more. “Why do you always give me that look when you know I’m not telling you something?”
“Because I’m trying to teach you not to keep your mouth shut.”
“I told him.”
“Told him what?”
“That I’m gay.”
Steve frowned, then shrugged.
“What’s that look for?” Dakota asked.
“Was I supposed to say something else?” Steve reached up to scratch his chin. Stubble framed his chin, softening his appearance even further.
“I don’t know,” Dakota sighed, falling back against the wall and resigning himself to fate. “I knew I was only going to get disappointed going into this.”
“So this whole thing—bringing him food, sneaking out to talk to him, staying in his room for hours at a time—was all to see if he was gay?”
“Call me selfish. Go ahead.”
“I’m not saying you’re selfish, Dakota. God, buddy, that’s the last thing I’d ever think.”
“I know.” Dakota closed his eyes, then opened them when a flicker of guilt skittered across his ribcage.
“If anything,” Steve said, joining him against the wall, “you’re making a friend out of this.”
“I already have a friend. You.”
“Whoever said you could only have one friend?”
No one, Dakota thought, leaning into Steve’s side. That’s some stupid rule I imposed upon myself.
“You know,” Steve said, curling an arm around Dakota’s back, “maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“I doubt it.”
“Don’t they say that everyone’s bisexual to a degree?”
“That’s just a stereotype, Steve.”
“Guess I’m part of that statistic then—yannow, being bi and all.” Steve chuckled and pushed away from the wall. He started toward the window, but turned before he could make it there. “Just look at it this way, Dakota—you’re doing a good thing. Isn’t that good enough for the time being?”
“Yeah,” Dakota said. “It is.”
CHAPTER 5
A man put a gun to his head in the middle of the night and pulled the trigger just after he wrote his goodbyes.
None of his sleeping neighbors heard the noise.
Feathers flew about the room.
The sergeant was dead.
Roused from sleep by frantic fighting in the hallway, Dakota rose, pulled his pants up his legs and made his way out the door. Almost immediately, he found Kirn, Wills and the civilian named Michael arguing with one another.
“You have to calm down,” Michael said, tightening his hold around Kirn’s upper arms.
“CALM THE FUCK DOWN?” Kirn screamed. “HE’S DEAD!”
“Who’s dead?” Dakota asked.
“The sergeant,” Wills said, voice dull and with little emotion.
“You don’t know if he’s dead,” Michael said, pulling his hands away from Kirn tried to slap them away. “Private Roberts hasn’t gone in and seen him.”
“WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?” Kirn howled.
“I’m right here,” Roberts said, entering through an escape hatch on the second floor. “What’s going on?”