New York Christmas by New York Christmas Page B

Making the school aware of what was happening was another step in protecting Chris. If the school backed Chris then Whitman would probably let this whole thing slide.
    When he received a message half an hour later he read it with grim satisfaction.
    Evidently the school had gone straight to Whitman with what they had just been faced with. It was the final nail in the coffin for any kind of assault charge against Chris.
    Daniel hated playing these games, but as the wealthy son of a wealthy son he knew
     
    exactly how these elite schools ran. The text was clear, to the point, and from Whitman himself.
    “I’ve considered my response. I will be dropping my charges.”

    * * * *

    Chris knew within seconds of his lover disappearing out of the door that it was potentially the last time he would ever see him. Coming in and stopping Chris was bound to have been a huge shock. From a man that wouldn’t normally say boo to a goose Chris had sure shown Daniel his darker side. Daniel was a cop, and to have to pull Chris off Whit? That had to be something he needed to follow up in an official way.
    It didn’t matter if he was fucking Chris during his off hours. At the end of the day, Whit would press charges and had a freaking material witness in a uniformed cop to back him up.
    He could dwell on what Daniel may or may not have heard. It may be that he had heard why Chris had lost it, then again, possibly not. Whatever. The fact the man hadn’t even called, let alone texted, was fairly telling of his take on the whole thing. Ame wanted him to get a lawyer, or in her words, ‘you need to lawyer up.’ It reminded him of the Law and Order episodes he sometimes caught on reruns and seemed overkill for what had actually happened.
    Much to Ame’s disgust, he kept working, expecting cops—Daniel even—to come in and arrest him every time the door opened. He was resigned to whatever was going to happen. That same animated reaction finally bubbled over just before the shop opened to early customers.
    “Why don’t you call Daniel? At least get some closure? He said he knew it wasn’t you. If he is not contacting you there has to be a reason.” She was mixing a new batch of muffins, dropping fruit, nuts, and chocolate in at random. Chris wondered if she even knew what she was making, she seemed so distracted.
    “Closure on what?” he asked quickly. “A few dates and some pity fucks?”
    “Chris,” she admonished quickly, “you had something there with him; you were happy.”
    “It never really started though, did it? Hell, Ame, it was about as deep and meaningful as a casual one-night stand.”
    “Chris—”
    “I hardly need closure. Another hot body so I can get over this maybe, but closure on Daniel? No.”
    “I’m so sorry, babe.” She sounded damn sad, and it was all he could do not to just break down and ask her to help him. Why was he lying to himself? He wanted to ask Daniel what happened, deep down inside, and he really did want that closure, whatever its cost to him. He needed an end, didn’t want Daniel to hate him. He certainly couldn’t face the thought of ever hating Daniel. If only he could actually verbalize that then maybe it would help. He pulled her into a hug, ignoring her whine of protest and the accompanying flour cloud.
     
     
    “I have things to decide,” he said, “after Christmas. I can’t stay here forever. I need to do something with this whole freaking mess, sort things out.” If he had the chance that is. If he wasn’t pulled up on charges for some kind of aggravated assault. “If I’m charged and have something against my name I’ll have to think again. Move away.”
    And now, with that conversation spinning in his mind, the day was molasses-slow and tedious. People complained in scratchy, whiny voices with no happiness and no pleasure—just another Monday. It appeared that even tourists were bypassing the shop, which was never a good thing as they normally balanced out the grief