Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Walt Murphy – Part Two – 50

Now Ricky is usually a bit restrained, being an accountant and all.

Okay, strike that. Restraint is not his thing, especially when he thinks I might have been hurt as part of the job I do.

I heard the front door open about half an hour after Tom had left. Yeah, I was still a bit jumpy from all that had gone down, so I was on my feet, ready to defend myself if necessary. It was, but only from Ricky as he practically bowled me over, hugging and kissing me as if we'd been apart for a month, not half a day.  

He finished his attack by stepping back, gripping my arms while he looked me over with a critical eye. "Two arms, two legs, one body, one head, no obvious damage except"—he lightly touched the bandages on my throat. "You made it through in one piece. I'm proud of you. Now…tell me again what the hell were you thinking when you set that up?"

"I missed you too," I said when I could finally get a word in edgewise.

He sagged against me, heaving a deep sigh. "It's over. Right?"

"Yep. Over and done and we can get back to our normal lives." Of course I didn't mention things like trials and the possibility that, with a good lawyer, there was always the chance at least Carlo might get off with a light sentence or probation. Ben? He'd probably end up in the pen, or in a psyche ward, depending on how his lawyer played it. No sense it telling Ricky that. He'd figure it out in time. He is a smart man. For now, well as I told him, it was time to move on.

He looked up at me and gave me that wicked grin that meant he was about to proposition me. "I suggest we start by heading straight upstairs to celebrate 'normal'."

I wasn't going to argue over that idea—so we did. Then we went out for lunch at our favorite restaurant, came home and celebrated again. After all, it's Sunday. What else would two red-blooded men do who have no interest in professional sports on TV? Screw each others brains out. Right? 

The End

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