I KNEW WHERE I’D FIND Ollie when I stepped out of the shower the next morning. He was going through his preaching day preparations which basically just included making oatmeal for breakfast. I noticed the extra ingredients he added to the oatmeal base changed with the season. His fall combinations included cranberries, cinnamon, nutmeg, and pecans. I looked forward to seeing how he changed it up for winter and spring. There was a new aroma wafting down the hallway, one I was quite familiar with and was accused of being addicted to. Bacon!
I dried off and grabbed a pair of my sweats and a T-shirt from the dresser drawers Ollie assigned me. I loved having drawers at his place, just as I loved seeing his things in the dresser at my house. I loved how our lives became more and more entwined every day. Ollie was never far from my mind, and I knew he felt the same way from the texts he sent when we were apart. We had the love I’d always hoped to find, and I belonged to him in ways I never dreamed possible.
“Changing things up, I see,” I said when I entered the kitchen. Ollie had just slid the last piece of bacon on a plate lined with paper towels to soak up the extra grease. “That’s the best-looking bacon I’ve ever seen.”
“This is the secret to creating the best of anything,” Ollie said, gesturing to his ancient-looking cast iron skillet. “Ole Bessie never lets me down.”
“You name your skillets?”
“The name came with the skillet when I inherited it. I did tease Millie by saying I would change the name. She threatened to take the skillet to my head.”
“She’d never do such a thing.”
“I don’t know,” Ollie said. “I saw her chase a fox with Ole Bessie when it tried to get her chickens.” I laughed at the image springing to mind while Ollie chuckled over the memory. “She’s something else, my mama.” He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “She also told me to eat food while it’s hot. Can you grab plates and bowls, Arch?”
I was very comfortable in Ollie’s kitchen in ways I wasn’t in my own. The kitchen at Ryan’s Place was Esther’s domain, and I often felt like a naughty kid when I dirtied a dish or prepared a late night snack. She’d never said anything to the residents or me to discourage us in the kitchen, but she made it clear we had to clean up after ourselves. Esther and Millie had similar personalities and believed in tough love, where Mamma tended to handle things with a gentler approach. I think it had to do a lot with the violence I witnessed during my first five years. She worked hard to show me a person didn’t need to raise their voice, and certainly not their hand, to mold and teach a child. Still, I think their bolder, more self-assured personalities were a wonderful influence on my mom. She seemed more confident and assertive, and I liked the changes. For Esther and Millie, my mom softened some of their sharper edges with her graceful demeanor. The three ladies’ personalities combined to create a mighty team worthy of superhero status. We never knew what they would think up, say, or do at any given moment.
I looked forward to attending services each week with them and Henry who was blossoming before our very eyes. I felt like a proud parent watching my child gain confidence and strength. I still saw shadows under his eyes on occasion and caught a lost expression now and then, but I also saw him dust off his pants and keep moving. It took a lot of courage sometimes. He’d found a part-time job at a bookstore and tried out for a community theater role and was chosen to star as one of the four main characters. He walked around on a cloud for days afterward before nerves set in once rehearsals started. The three women in his life offered encouragement through pep talks and love. He soaked it in, and I knew he fully understood what Ollie’s sermon about the chosen family truly meant.
“You’re extra reflective this morning,” Ollie said when he sat across from me at his table. “Is everything okay?”
“Better than okay, Ollie. I’m still amazed at how much my life has changed since I met you. I’m just feeling grateful.”
“I’m grateful for you too.”
For church, I put on the dark purple dress shirt Ollie bought me because he said it made my eyes look greener. I wanted him to see me in the front pew and know I dressed for him. Millie, Esther, and Mamma all showed up wearing their Sunday finest, which now included hats and gloves for Mamma and Esther. Henry wore a sweater and trousers and a rueful smile on his face.
“The ladies are in rare form this morning,” he cautioned. “Esther and Maria discovered a new show on Netflix they couldn’t stop talking about, and we met Millie in the parking lot who was fired up over the sports talk radio show she was listening to before we arrived.”
“Uh-oh,” I said softly. “Lunch at Burt’s should be interesting.”
“You have no idea.”
Ollie’s sermon was about forgiveness, and how much better it is for us to forgive those who trespass against us to have a fulfilling life free of burden, but admitted it was something he had struggled with his entire adult life.
“If you’re open to forgiving, the opportunity and the ability will come to you when it’s time,” he told his congregation. “Forgiveness isn’t something you can force, and offering meaningless platitudes does nothing to heal the hurt inside you. It’s never wrong to tell someone forgiveness is something you want to achieve but haven’t yet. It’s okay to insist on time to put distance between the person and events that have caused grief in your life. It’s okay to feel conflicted about forgiving people because you’re human, and you don’t have to decide your entire life this very second. Today, I simply ask you to open your mind up to the possibility of forgiveness and a life unencumbered by sadness, grief, and grudges. Imagine yourself living each day with the knowledge you’ve been hurt and you’ve moved past it by forgiving the ones who’ve trespassed against you.
“In my mind, holding onto grudges gives those people power over you; power they don’t deserve. Forgiveness is freeing and powerful and uplifting. It’s knowing someone wronged you, but you’re no longer willing to let it rule you. That, my friends, is the best part of forgiveness. It’s not about making the other person feel better about what they did, in fact, most of us don’t have the opportunity to look them in the eyes and say they’re forgiven. In many cases, the person you need to forgive hasn’t even apologized to you, but it doesn’t mean you can’t forgive and move on. Don’t do it for them; do it for yourself.” As with all of his sermons, I could tell the words he spoke were personal to him. Had he reached the point of forgiveness with Kaleb and his biological family?
After his sermon, Ollie sat in his chair off to the side of the altar while Millie and the Thompson family performed three songs with lyrics matching the tone of Ollie’s sermon better than Bea Trix could match her pumps to her dress. They put so much energy into the service each week, and their efforts were greatly appreciated and enjoyed.
Once the congregation left, we headed over to Burt’s for our usual lunch. Henry hadn’t exaggerated about Millie. She was all worked up.
“Thank you for reminding me I need to work on my forgiveness skills, Son. These talking heads on the radio have one purpose each day, and it’s to rile up Millie Givens with their exaggerations, half-truths, and outright lies. Their behavior is just disgraceful. When in the world did sports radio merge with shock radio? It’s like these guys get up each morning and ask how they can be the Howard Stern of sports radio.”
“Mama, maybe you shouldn’t listen to the programs if they upset you so much.”
Millie threw her head back and laughed. “On the contrary, getting mad at these silly men makes me feel alive.”
“Then maybe you should call the show,” I suggested, earning an elbow jab from Ollie. “What? She knows more about the Cincinnati sports teams than those two idiots combined. Better yet, they should have you on the show!”
“They couldn’t handle all of this,” Millie said, turning into the parking lot of Burt’s, “but I love the way you think, love.” Millie pushed her door open after she put the car in park and turned off the engine. “Guess what?” she asked her friends. “Archie gave me the best idea.”
Mamma and Esther looked about as enthused as Ollie did when Millie told them my suggestion. “What?” I asked them too. “She’d be fabulous! Those callers would eat her sass up with a spoon.”
“I’m not sure it’s good for her blood pressure,” Mamma said worriedly.
“Or, it could improve her blood pressure because she’s getting the frustration out of her system,” Esther said.
“It’s just a fun idea,” Millie said, waving the notion away. “They wouldn’t want to waste time with an opinionated old woman.”
I looked around the parking lot and along the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. “I don’t see an old woman.”
“Oh, I just love you to pieces,” Millie said, squeezing me. “Let’s get inside and order our food. All this yelling at the radio has worked up an appetite.”
We headed to our usual corner booth where the waitress took our usual order. Why mess with a good thing when it worked so well for us? The pregame show had just ended, and we expected the broadcast to change from the studio to stadium, but they pitched it to the local news affiliate instead.
“Oh look,” Mamma said. “It’s the art museum. I wonder if they’re going to say how much money the event raised.”
“I wonder how much your drawing sold for, Ollie,” I said.
“You submitted a drawing?” Millie asked. “Was it something I’ve already seen or something you drew just for the event?”
“It was—”
“Hold up,” Henry said, raising his hand and cutting Ollie off. “There was a theft from the museum last night.”
I looked back at the screen, and sure enough, there was a breaking news banner at the bottom of the screen followed by the words: Artifact Heist at the Cincinnati Art Museum. “Oh my God!”
“Can you turn the volume up?” Ollie asked the waitress when she returned with our drinks. “We were there last night.”
“Sure thing,” she said then hurried off.
The male anchor led off the broadcast with, “Sometime in the middle of the night, someone disabled the elaborate alarm system and jumbled the security cameras long enough to steal a twelfth-century fangyi ritual wine vessel belonging to Wu Ding, a king of the Shang dynasty.” A picture of a tall bronze box-like structure with a lid shaped like a roof appeared on the screen. The wine vessel was green in places from oxidation, but it didn’t detract from the intricate symbols all over it. “The museum says, due to its rarity, the vessel is valued at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
The camera shifted to the female co-anchor, who said, “Police are looking for information about the man you see in these photos.” A picture of the guy who was interested in Ryder, the same one who nearly knocked us over on the steps, appeared on the screen. The next photo showed him casually accepting a champagne flute from a waiter, and the final picture showed him speaking to us on the staircase. The images changed once more to show agents from the FBI entering the museum. “If anyone recognizes him please call the hotline number at the bottom of the screen.”
I felt the attention from the table shift from the big screen television and onto Ollie and me.
“Uh-oh,” Ollie said. “I bet the police will want to speak to us.”
My cell phone rang as soon as the words left his mouth. The caller ID said it was an unknown caller, but I had a pretty good idea who it might be.
“Hello,” I said more calmly than I felt.
“Hello, may I speak with Archie White, please?”
“This is he.”
“Mr. White, this is Agent Hugh Kiphart with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I wondered if you could come down to the federal building this afternoon to speak with me. I went to your home, and one of the residents said you are out of town.”
“By out of town, he meant thirty minutes away. I stayed with my boyfriend and attended his church service. I can be downtown in about an hour if that works for you.”
“It’s fine, Mr. White. Is your boyfriend Oliver Knight?”
“Yes.”
“Would he be available to speak with us too?”
“Of course, Agent Kiphart. Neither of us has anything to hide.”
“Thank you, Mr. White. I’ll see you in an hour.” He hung up without saying goodbye, but it wasn’t a social call.
“You’re wanted for questioning?” Mamma asked, wringing her hands.
“Mamma, we didn’t do anything wrong. The picture was very misleading. We don’t know the man. He only asked us if we’d seen Ryder.”
“Interesting,” Millie said with a gleam in her eyes. “You think Ryder is on the take?”
“I really don’t know Ryder anymore, but the man I knew eight years ago loved art above all else, including money.” And me. “He didn’t just love art; he revered it.”
“I don’t believe Ryder was involved,” Ollie said.
“You don’t know the man,” Millie pointed out.
“Just the feeling I get,” Ollie said with a shrug. “Should we head there now?”
“I bought us an extra thirty minutes so we could grab a bite to eat first. I don’t see why we should go to the station hungry.”
“How can you think of your stomach at a time like this?” Mamma asked.
“Easily. I didn’t do anything wrong, so I don’t have anything to worry about. My conscience is clear, but my belly is empty.” Okay, so empty was an exaggeration after the breakfast Ollie had made, but nearly four hours had passed since then.
Ollie had a harder time eating, but I knew his nervousness had nothing to do with guilt. We hugged and said goodbye to Mamma, Esther, and Henry then climbed in the back of Millie’s Cadillac, so she could drive us back home. I clasped Ollie’s hand between both of mine, attempting to chase away the chill permeating his body.
“I love fall, but I don’t care for the cold, November rain,” Millie said. “You boys be careful.” We leaned forward between the front seats to kiss her cheek, so she didn’t have to get out in it.
I knew Ollie was upset when he handed me the keys to his car and said, “You drive.”
I wasn’t about to question him in the cold rain, so I got in on the driver’s side and waited until we shut the doors before I said anything about it. “Baby, why are you so nervous?”
“The last time I talked to someone from law enforcement it didn’t go very well for me, Arch. The arresting officers made no secret about how they felt about gay men. I realized I’m not the same strung out, homeless guy I used to be, and the set of circumstances are completely different, but I…”
“You can’t help feeling the way you do. There’s nothing wrong with it either, baby.” I leaned over and kissed him softly. “All you need to do is tell the truth. If they make snide remarks about our sexuality, we’ll turn their lives upside down with complaints and legal action. We should not and will not put up with any crap from them or anyone else.”
Ollie nodded and released a shaky breath. “Will you do one thing for me?”
“Anything.”
“Keep all four tires on the road at all times.”
“Okay, but just this once.”
“And maybe keep your speeding to only five miles over the limit,” Ollie suggested.
“That’s two favors, but for you, I will even drive the speed limit today.”
I tried to keep the mood light by singing along with the music and even coaxed Ollie to do the same a few times. His tension returned once we parked and walked to the federal building. We were shown to separate interview rooms which we both knew would happen. We’d seen enough law enforcement shows to know they would want to trip us up and pit us against each other if we knew something of value.
I wasn’t in the room long before a male and female agent entered the room. Both of them looked to be my age until you looked into their eyes. The things they’d witnessed on the job aged them. I figured Ollie broadcasted his nervousness, so they wanted him to stew a little longer to make him squeal faster. It was a good strategy, and one I’d employ if I were them.
“I’m Agent Hugh Kiphart, and this is my partner, Danica Marshall. Thank you for coming in so promptly, Mr. White.”
“I have nothing to hide, Agents,” I said, leaning back in my chair to show how relaxed I felt. Kiphart’s crooked smile said we’ll just see about that.
“What were you doing at the benefit last night?” Agent Marshall asked, jumping right in.
“A portion of last night’s ticket sales are getting donated to my HIV transition home. I believe you visited it earlier today, yes?” She nodded. “One of Ollie’s drawings was featured in the silent auction, so we decided to attend.”
“How do you know Lucien Clarke?” Kiphart asked.
“I don’t know a Lucien Clarke, Agent.” He pulled a photo from the file he’d brought with him and slid it across the table. It was the one they showed in the breaking news broadcast.
“This picture indicates you know him.”
“Wrong, Agent. This picture indicates we spoke to him. You and I both know they aren’t the same. Besides, if this were captured on a live video feed, then you’d know damn well our conversation lasted for less than a minute after he nearly ran us over. You’d also know we didn’t speak to him before or after the image was captured.”
“Fine,” Kiphart conceded. “And I can assure you the security cameras did indeed capture your tour through the museum.” He raised a brow, but I didn’t see censure or disgust in his dark eyes. Did he think I would blush or cower? I might’ve if we’d been caught with our pants down, but the most the cameras picked up was two men hopelessly in love. “What did Lucien Clarke say to you?”
“He was looking for Ryder Jameson,” I told them. “He’d seen us talking to Ryder earlier in the evening and wanted to know if we’d seen him since. We hadn’t because, as you noted, we were preoccupied with other things.”
Marshall chuckled and asked, “Ryder Jameson is a former boyfriend, right?”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“Have you been in touch with him at all since he left Cincinnati eight years ago?” she continued.
“No. I hadn’t talked to him until he showed up at Queen City Divas—”
“That’s where I know you from,” Kiphart said, interrupting me. “Lady Bea Trix.”
“Can we focus here, Hugh?” Marshall asked him.
“Yeah, sorry. Continue,” he said, gesturing his hand in a circular motion.
“He showed up out of the blue back in September. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he didn’t believe me right away. In fact, he didn’t believe me until last night when he saw Ollie and me together. He apologized to us both for trying to cause trouble, and it was the last we spoke to him. It was then Ollie noticed Lucien Clarke’s intense focus on Ryder. He watched him as he made his way through the room.”
“Did Mr. Jameson indicate he was aware of his presence? Acknowledge him in any way?” Agent Marshall asked.
“Not that we saw,” I told them. “We weren’t there long, as you can tell by the footage.”
Kiphart nodded and exchanged a glance with Marshall. “That’s all we have for you today. We ask that you give us a call right away if you learn anything new.”
“Sure,” I agreed.
I sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair and waited for Ollie to finish his interview. I couldn’t help but worry about him since he’d been so nervous, but he offered a crooked smile when he finished.
“It wasn’t so bad,” he said sheepishly.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
When we exited the police station, I noticed it had finally stopped raining. I also saw that Ryder was standing on the corner like he was waiting for the crosswalk sign to change so he could cross the street.
“Is that Ryder?” Ollie asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “He looks like he’s still in his tuxedo from last night.”
“Do you think he was here all night?”
“It sure looks like it,” I admitted.
I was about to call out to him when a black sedan with darkly tinted windows pulled up and stopped in front of him just as the crosswalk signal changed. The window rolled down, but I couldn’t see who was behind the wheel. Ryder looked alarmed at first but ended up getting in the car. It sped away before I could memorize the license plate number.
“Not our business,” I told Ollie. “You know everyone is waiting to hear about our big adventure with the feds. Let’s get it over with and make the best of our day.”
“Does making the best of it involve nudity?”
“Without a doubt, baby. Without a doubt.”