The King (The Original Sinners: White Years, #2)(49)

In his peripheral vision he saw the doctor studying his face.

“You were sexually assaulted?” Her tone was neutral, calm. He appreciated that.

“Very likely,” he said.

“Do you have any lingering pain or symptoms?”

“I have f lashbacks sometimes. Nightmares. No memories.”

“Sounds likes post-traumatic stress disorder,” Dr. Sutton said. “I can refer you to someone who is an expert in that f ield.”

“No therapists,” Kingsley said. “I hate them even more than doctors.”

“When were you last tested?” Dr. Sutton asked.

“I was tested in the hospital, and I was supposed to get tested again six months later. I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He turned his head and met her eyes.

“Told you—I hate doctors.”

She smiled at him.

“I hear that a lot,” she said. “So…after what you went through, I take it we’re testing you for…”

Kingsley took a nervous breath.

“Everything.”





16


DR. SUTTON TOOK HIS VITALS, TWO VIALS OF HIS blood, made him piss in a cup and then did something with a Q-tip that men routinely paid upward of five-hundred dollars for a dominatrix to do to them. She told him the results would come back in two weeks.

“Two weeks?” he repeated. “I have to wait two weeks?” She gave him a look of deepest compassion.

“I know. It’s the scariest two weeks of anyone’s life waiting on the lab results. And they might come sooner, but two weeks is average. Try not to think about it.”

“That’s not going to happen.” “I’m advising you not to have intercourse until your results are in.”

“Not possible,” he said.

“It is possible,” S?ren said. “I’ll chain you to the f loor if I have to.”

“I’ve had sex chained to the f loor before. Remember when—”

“Kingsley.”

“You have to think about your future,” Dr. Sutton said. “You’re putting your life at risk. You’re putting your fertility at risk. Even if you don’t want children—”

“I do.”

S?ren looked up sharply. Kingsley had no idea where those words came from. Did he just say he wanted children? He did? When was he planning on telling himself that?

“Then you should use protection,” Dr. Sutton continued. “Every time. Until, of course, you’re ready for children.”

“No other options?” Kingsley asked.

“You could try celibacy,” S?ren suggested, and Kingsley f licked a tongue depressor at him.

“Unnatural,” Kingsley said. “No one should be celibate.”

“I agree,” Dr. Sutton said, and winked at S?ren.

Dr. Sutton promised to call as soon as the results were in. He and S?ren walked out into the sunshine.

“She’s your doctor, too, yes?” Kingsley asked.

“She is.”

“And she goes to your church?”

“She does.”

“And she doesn’t believe priests should have to be celibate?”

“Now you know why she’s my doctor.” S?ren grinned. The smile faded, and he put his hand on Kingsley’s shoulder. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here.”

“Two weeks. I’m going to die while waiting to find out if I’m going to die.”

“You don’t have my permission to die.”

“I’ll never make it. What do people who don’t have sex do with their time? Other than plan their suicide?”

“I don’t have sex. Do I seem suicidal to you?”

“What do you do in your free time?”

“I’ll show you. Meet me at Central Park on the North Meadow at three.”

“Don’t you have a job?” Kingsley demanded.

“I said morning Mass at ten. I took the rest of the day off for you. Come to the park. Wear clothes you can run in.” “I don’t want to run.”

“North Meadow. Three.”

S?ren held up three fingers.

In response, Kingsley held up one finger.

Once S?ren was gone, Kingsley stopped at a pay phone and called Sam.

“You paged me?” he asked as soon as Sam picked up his office phone.

“You have messages. Most important message—Blaise wants you to escort her to some fund-raiser Friday night.”

“Do I have to?” Kingsley asked.

“If you don’t take her, I will,” Sam said with an amorous tone in her voice.

“I’ll take Blaise to the thing. You’re not allowed to steal my chouchou.”

“We need to renegotiate my terms of service, then.”

“What else?” Kingsley asked.

“An Officer Cooper called. He’s at the twenty-sixth precinct. I don’t know what this message means, but he said ‘Tell King I’ve got a live one for him.’”

Ahh…that sounded promising.

“I’ll go right now,” he said.

“What’s a live one? Who’s a live one?”