Free Making Promises by Amy Lane Page B

expect my full cut tomorrow.
    Please don’t ‘miscount’ it like you did last week. I need that money.” Kurt waved him off. “No worries, little dude—that was a mistake last time. Won’t happen again.”
    Mikhail smiled thinly. “See that it doesn’t.” Then he turned to Shane and took their twined hands and pulled them to his lips, kissing the back of Shane’s wrist with a flirty little smile. “And you—by all means say ‘hello’
    should you have a moment. And I suggest you all leave now, or you’ll get caught in the traffic either in the park or outside.” He let go of Shane’s hand just slowly enough to be reluctant, and then stepped back, took a little bow, and turned and trotted through the crowd.

    “He’s right,” Kimmy murmured. “We should go. If we’re here at close, our job is to run through the Faire and herd people out. Let’s try and get out ahead of the chaos, shall we?”
    They took Shane’s car. Kimmy sat in back because Kurt held the seat of the two-door forward for her and said, “Here ya go, babe.” Then he refused to wear a seat belt because it might crush his cape.
    If it hadn’t meant hurting his baby, Shane might have hit a tree as they were driving (providing he could find one in Gilroy) just to watch the guy go flying through the window.
    The questions about money were incessant—how much he’d gotten from the settlement, where he kept it. His response of “in a bundle in my sock drawer” made Kimmy giggle, and Kurt ended up telling her to cut it out, the men were talking. Shane started wondering about how much bodywork would really cost. He was, as Kurt kept pointing out, financially loaded.
    When he found Shane unresponsive about the money, Kurt started talking shit about Mikhail, and Shane actually had to watch his breathing as red spots danced in front of his eyes.
    “I didn’t know you were queer, bro—if I had, I would have warned you off the little dude. He’s sort of a man-slut, you know? Never met a Faire hook-up he didn’t like?”
    I don’t do seasons, only days. Yeah, Shane knew. He also knew—
    with a cop’s bone-deep instinct—that there was a reason for that, but he wasn’t going to discuss Mikhail’s sex life with this guy.
    “You know, I think you only get to use the word ‘queer’ if you actually swing that way,” was what he did say. “Or if a queer person likes you as a friend.”
    Kurt had laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing you and me are tight, my man, am I right?”
    “No.”
    Kurt laughed some more, and Shane patted his steering wheel sadly.
    He really did like this car. And Kimmy might get hurt in the accident as well. But it was oh-so-tempting.
    “Shane’s bi,” Kimmy said unexpectedly from the back, and Shane caught her eyes in the mirror and smiled.

    “This is true,” he said, as though encouraging a child. The Kimmy who had squealed that morning when she saw him seemed to be in hiding.
    So was the brutally honest Kimmy who had talked about being an addict and wanting a family. This Kimmy was a frightened Kimmy, and she was huddling in the back of the car as though saying “boo” was going to get her kicked onto the pavement and into the middle of nowhere. (Was this really the main road to Gilroy proper? Shane had seen more metropolitan thoroughfares in the middle of the Canadian wilderness.)
    “I thought you were really brave, Shaney,” she said now, casting a furtive glance at Kurt. “You took a chance on someone. Even if it didn’t pay off, you… you know. You can find someone who won’t be a cowardly weasel….”
    “Oh come off it, Kim!” Kurt said dismissively. “The guy was only being smart. You’ve got to look out for yourself, right—shit! Why’d you do that?”
    “Squirrel,” Shane said with a straight face. Kurt had slid across the seat and smacked his head on the window when Shane swerved, and now he was putting his seat belt on with something approaching zeal.
    “I saw it too,”