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A whistle pierces the air. Shrill. One could say, head splitting. Jim winces. Almost drops his book. He was having a nice afternoon. Jane swimming with Max. No Mike Wheeler in sight. He’s even got a flask in his bag and he’s poured a few shots of whiskey into his lemonade.
The whistle blows again. Even louder. There’s a shadow in his sunlight.
“No footwear on the pool deck.”
Billy Hargrove is standing over him. Sun drenched. Shirtless. Holding his whistle at mouth level like he ready to blast it again.
“My footwear is not not touching the pool deck.” Jim smiles. Eyes narrowed. Jack Ryan was in the middle of trying to escape a prison cell. The suspense is ruined.
Besides. He’s spread across a lounge chair. His sandals are a respectable distance from the ground.
“I’ll confiscate them.” Billy raises an eyebrow above the line of his aviators.
“Try it, kid.”
Billy leans down. The whistle drops and hits his chest. Bouncing a few times. He puts his hands on his knees as he bends over. He’s in Jim’s space. Christ. Jim wants to knock that smarmy smile off his face.
“Hand over the shoes, or I’m banning you from the pool. For life. Don’t think your daughter’s gonna like that very much.”
“You can’t ban me.”
“Job description says I can.”
“Good luck enforcing it.”
“We got a whole wall of mugshots, Chief. I got no problem sticking you up there with all the other losers.”
Jim dog ears his page. Folds the book and sets it aside. He reaches for his sandals, slips them off and stuffs them in his bag. Apparently that’s good enough for Billy. He straightens up, smiling even wider.
“Thanks, Chief.”
And with that, he’s gone. Fucker.
***
“What the hell?”
Billy Hargrove is rapidly approaching. Fresh out of the Starcourt mall. Brown JC Penny bag on his arm.
Jim smiles and sticks the ticket under the windshield wiper of the blue camaro. He’s not in uniform. But he had his ticket book with him.
“What are you doing?” Billy’s right up beside him now. Eyes a little wild. Staring at Jim.
“This ain’t such a great parking job, champ. You’re over the line here.” Jim points down. The wheel of the camaro is inches over into the next parking space.
“Are you serious?”
“You’re preventing someone else from getting a space. That’s a violation, and it’s inconsiderate.” Jim smiles.
A vein in Billy’s neck is twitching. “Yeah. OK. What’s the Chief of police doing playing meter maid?”
“Justice never sleeps.”
Jim wants to keep standing there. Watch Billy Hargrove have a complete meltdown. But he did promise Jane he’d pick her up the new Madonna record. The store’s closing soon. So he starts walking away.
Billy calls after him. “This is bullshit!”
God. It’s music to Jim’s ears.
***
“One bounce on the diving board!” Billy screams. Blasts his whistle three times. Jim just surfaced again. He doesn’t even usually get in the water. But Jane wanted to practice diving.
“Out of the pool, Hopper! You’re done for the day.”
Jim just looks at him. Swims over to the side of the pool but does not climb out. He just waits there, elbows propped against the edge, and watches as Jane takes her turn diving. She still doesn’t quite have it down yet. Does a bit of a belly flop, but surfaces giggling.
The whistle blasts some more. Billy’s out of the chair now. Stalking towards him.
“I said get out of the pool, Hopper.”
“Come on, kid. I heard you. Scout’s honor, I won’t double bounce again.” Jim rolls his eyes.
“Yeah right. You’re lucky the board didn’t break under your fat ass.” Billy’s standing directly over him now. Sunglasses pulled halfway down his nose. Chest puffed out. “I will drag you out if you don’t get out.”
“That so?”
Jane has approached now. She seems a little apprehensive. People are staring at them. “Jim… maybe we should go…”
“Yeah. Listen to your kid, Chief . You don’t wanna embarrass her more than you already have, right?”
Jim gets out of the pool slowly. Eyes narrowed. Jane scrambles out after him. They gather up their things, Billy following them. Hovering. He actually walks them out. Like they’re criminals.
“The two of you aren’t allowed back for a week.” Billy says as they reach the doorway.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Push me. See what happens.” Billy snarls.
Oh. Jim’s gonna do just that. You’d better believe he’s gonna do just that. He’s gonna teach this asshole a lesson.
***
Jim only has to park by the Hargrove house a couple nights with a speed gun before he gets his chance. Catches Billy whipping around the corner much too fast. Jim flicks his lights on. Blasts his siren. He pulls that stupid blue camaro over onto the side of the street.
He takes his time getting out of the cruiser. Sauntering over to the driver’s side window. Book out. Already filling in a ticket.
Billy’s hands are on the steering wheel. Knuckles white. Jaw set. He’s in a silk shirt that’s completely unbuttoned. There’s a girl sitting in the passenger’s seat, wearing a mini-skirt that barely covers her.
This is fucking perfect.
“License and registration.” Jim smiles. Flicking on his flashlight and shining it directly into Billy’s face.
Billy reaches over into the glove box. Motions stiff. Like he’s fighting to maintain his composure. Jim takes the papers. Fills out the rest of the ticket as slow as he possibly can.
“You know the speed limit on this road, son?”
“Twenty five miles per hour.” Billy’s voice is strained. He’s staring straight ahead. Focused on some obscure point in the distance like it’s gonna help him.
“And do you know how fast you were going?”
“I get the feeling you’re gonna tell me.” He snorts. Facade of polite calm already starting to crack.
Jim’s in heaven.
“Forty miles per hour, Mr. Hargrove. That’s a whole fifteen miles over the speed limit. Children live in this neighborhood. You should be more careful.”
He hands over Billy’s papers. Along with the ticket for eighty dollars.
“Are you kidding?” Billy snarls before he can stop himself. He bites the side of cheek. He’s looking at Jim now. Seething.
“We take community safety with the utmost seriousness here in Hawkins.” Jim taps the roof. “You two have a nice night, now.”
He barely manages to make it back to the cruiser before he starts laughing.
***
“Jim!”
Jane is running back from the pool entrance. Max next to her. Swimsuits completely dry. Granted, Jim only lagged behind a little bit. He’s got his thermos full of whiskey lemonade ready to go. Got a new Tom Clancy novel tucked in his bag. He just stood up and locked the car.
Usually the girls are in the water in about three minutes flat.
“What’s wrong?”
Max’s face is turning increasingly pink. She’s clenching her jaw in a way that is eerily familiar.
“Billy.” She snaps.
“He said I’m banned!” Jane’s eyes are wide. Confused.
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t break any rules! I didn’t!” Jane continues. “But he made me leave. He said I wasn’t ever allowed in again.”
That little bastard.
“Lemme go see about this.” Jim hitches his bag up higher on his shoulder. Wishes for a moment he was wearing his uniform instead of a t-shirt and swim trunks. But he can still be intimidating. He’s almost six and a half feet tall. He’s not scared of some snot-nosed idiot with a power complex.
Billy is sitting in the office at the entrance. Feet up on the desk. Looking bored and bitchy, like most teenagers do. His expression does not change when he sees Jim. Which is mildly impressive. Or maybe speaks to a death wish.
“Wanna tell me why you’re refusing to let my daughter into the public pool?” Jim smacks his hands down on the desk. Towering over Billy. The girl sitting in the corner with a sideways ponytail looks appropriately concerned.
Billy betrays nothing. Instead he smiles and says, “She was running on the deck. Can’t have that sort of behavior go unchecked. After all. We’re both very concerned about community safety , right Chief? Wouldn’t want her to slip and crack her little head open.”
Jim doesn’t punch the brick wall. It’s a near thing. But he doesn’t.
“I see. You got any other witnesses for this supposed infraction? According to my daughter, she did nothing wrong.”
“I say I saw her running.” Billy raises his eyebrows. Lifts up his stupid little whistle. “What I say goes.”
“You really wanna do this?”
“Do what, Chief? My job?”
Jim is too mad to speak. If he opened his mouth, it would be a scream. He might reach over the desk and strangle the kid in public. So he turns around. Walks out. Tells Jane and Max to get in the car. They’re going for ice cream instead.
This means war.
***
It’s pretty late. Getting to be time to head home. Jane’s out at the movies with Steve and her friends. Jim was very clear that Steve needed to make sure hands stayed visible, and he had to sit in the same row as the kids.
The station is empty. Flo is already gone for the night. Which is why there’s no warning before Jim’s office door bursts open. Billy is standing there. Flushed bright pink. Shoulders tensed. He’s holding a piece of paper with the official Hawkin’s Circuit Court letterhead. Looks about ready to snap. Jim folds his hands on the desk and offers his best winning grin.
“Why, good evening Mr. Hargrove. Is something the matter?”
“A court summons?” Billy stomps forward. Slams his hands down on the desk. “For a fucking parking ticket.”
“You had a month to get it squared away.” Jim shrugs. “That’s standard procedure.”
“Bullshit it is. You’re doing this on purpose.”
“What makes you think that? I’m just doing my job.”
“This is an abuse of power,” Billy snarls.
“Is it really?” Jim raises an eyebrow. “Well I resent that implication. It’s a very serious thing when someone uses their position to bully people.”
Billy takes three long breaths. His eye twitches. “I don’t have the money for this.”
“You’ve got a job, don’t you?”
“I make three dollars an hour. You’ve given me a hundred and twenty dollars worth of shit to pay. And now I’m supposed to take time off work to show up in fucking court? This is insane.”
Jim shrugs.
Maybe he does feel a little guilty. He sometimes gets caught up in the heat of the moment. But Billy is a teenager who lives with his parents. It’s not like he has real bills. If he doesn’t have money, it’s because he spends it or clothes and records. He can eat a week’s paycheck.
The next thing he knows, Billy is rounding the desk. Jim moves the chair back instinctively. Not sure if he needs to get ready for a fight. He’s tensed. Ready to stand up. But Billy’s not cocking his fist to take a swing.
Instead Billy falls to his knees, and starts trying to pull at Jim’s belt.
“What the–stop that–” he pushes Billy’s hands away.
Billy looks at him. Eyes glimmering. “I can’t pay the tickets, Chief. So how about instead of fucking with me, you just fuck me. And make all that other shit go away.”
“Where the hell would you even get an idea like that?”
“People trade sex for money all the time. It’s not like. Original.”
“Are you a goddamn hooker?”
“Why? Are you a cop? You have to tell me if you are.” Billy winks.
“Billy. Get out of here.” Jim gestures towards the door. “No more tickets, as long as I don’t catch you doing anything shady. Hell, I’ll forget you ever tried this shit. Just. Get out.”
Billy sits back on his heels. He does not get out.
“‘No more tickets’ isn’t the entire problem we’re trying to fix, Chief.”
“I’m not saying it again. Get out of here.”
“What are you so worried about?” Billy tilts his head. “I’m legal. A mouth’s a mouth, right? Why not?”
Jim stands up. He grabs Billy by the shoulders and hauls him to his feet. Starts frog marching him towards the door. Billy doesn’t exactly struggle. Except when they actually get to the door. He manages to squirm around. Put his back up against the wall. Then he grabs Jim by the front of his shirt and yanks him forward. Jim catches himself. Hands on either side of Billy. And Billy’s head has to tilt back a little to maintain eye contact. He rolls his hips, pressing up against Jim’s thigh. He’s hard.
Jim pushes off the wall. Stumbles back a few steps. Maybe he’s in shock. Billy licks his lips, eyebrow raised. Jim wants to be angry. Wants to demand Billy explain himself. Why the hell would he think this was acceptable? Why would he think it’s something Jim wants? Why would he take this sort of stupid chance with a small-town cop in the middle of Indiana?
Billy steps forward. Hips swaying. He’s smiling the way a stripper smiles while she’s trying to talk you into an expensive lap dance. Jim backs away on instinct. Until he’s against the edge of his desk. Billy’s right in front of him. He slides down on his knees again. Looking up at Jim with those baby blues.
“C’mon, Chief. I’m into it.”
This is a bad idea. Billy’s just a kid. This is blatant bribery. The sort of thing that causes a lot of trouble if anyone finds out about it.
But there’s a voice in the back of Jim’s head saying it’s not queer if it’s your cock down someone else’s throat. Same voice that said the same thing back at boot camp so many years ago. Same voice that’s telling him how long it’s been since someone sucked his dick.
Same voice that’s saying you want to fuck that smug look of his face. Don’t pretend this pisisng contest hasn’t been about that.
And well. Jim’s own brain has him there. Things wouldn’t have escalated this fast, this quickly, if Billy weren’t a cocky asshole that knows how attractive he is. Jim has eyes. Sees the way all the horny housewives cluster just to ogle Billy with his shirt off.
That used to be Jim. Used to have girls falling all over him. More pussy than he could keep up with. In high school when he was on the football team. After he got back from Nam, body hard as his heart. It’s been a long time since then. He’s gotten soft and flabby. It makes him mad to see how Billy’s stepped into his old shoes as the Hawkins Heartthrob. Funny how sexual frustration and anger get tangled so easily.
If Billy Hargrove is a faggot that wants to suck Jim’s dick, well. That’s an undeniable win in whatever game of chicken they’ve been playing.
So when Billy reaches for his belt again, Jim doesn’t push him away. Billy grins. Unbuckles it with a slightly unnerving speed. Pulls Jim’s zipper down. He palms Jim’s cock through his boxers. And god. That feels good. Jim’s filling out. Getting hot under the collar. It’s physical contact. It’s the promise of even better things to come.
Billy presses his face into Jim’s crotch. Exhaling warm puffs of air. Mouthing at his dick through a thin layer of cotton.
Jim grabs at the edges of his desk. Suppresses a groan. Billy runs his thumbs along Jim’s hips, dipping under the waistband of his boxers. Teasing. He looks up again. Holds eye contact as he tugs Jim’s pants down around his thighs, along with his boxers. Exposing him. Showing off how hard he is already.
“Damn.” Billy raises an eyebrow. “I mean. You walk like someone with a big dick. But damn.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re right. I should at least get a taste before I give my compliments to the Chef.”
Billy flicks his tongue out and licks along the entire length of Jim’s cock. Once. Twice. Getting it nice and wet. Then he lets the head of it between his lips.
They’re so goddamn soft. His whole mouth is soft, slick, and warm. Jim can’t hold in the low grunt. He’s breathing heavy when Billy starts to move. Bob his head. Letting Jim’s dick hit the back of his throat. He doesn’t gag. Fuck.
Jim’s heart is pounding. Skin tingling. Keyed up enough now that he can stare at the way Billy’s mouth is stretched around him. He can stare at the drool already running down Billy’s chin. Stare at his scruffy blonde moustache, his square jaw, the lines shaved into his eyebrow. Billy exudes masculinity. It’s not the sort of thing you can ignore. Jim’s getting off on it.
It’s even more intense when Billy gets his own cock out. Fumbling with the button of his jeans a little because he’s focused on Jim. He keeps up the rhythm. Letting Jim’s dick push between his lips so sweet.
Billy pulls off for just a minute to spit on his own palm. Then he’s right back to work. Moaning around Jim’s cock. Jerking himself off.
It’s surreal. Billy is attracted to him. Or at least horny over the situation. He’s acting like a little whore. Obviously likes giving head. Likes it enough to rub his cock to it.
Jim’s seen other guys get off before. Not like this, though. Billy’s not watching porn. Jim’s not touching him at all. He’s turned on just from having Jim in his mouth.
Christ.
“You’re a fucking slut, huh?” Jim fists a hand in Billy’s hair. Pushes him down until his lips reach the root of Jim’s cock.
Billy’s throat flutters around him. There’s a choked off whine.
Jim starts to thrust. He backs off a little at first. Because Billy’s tearing up from a lack of oxygen. He hasn’t stopped touching himself though. As soon as he gets air, he’s whimpering like he wants more.
Fuck.
“You like this.” Jim hears his own voice drop low and raspy. Billy’s throat tightens around him again.
Those teary eyes blinking up at him somehow don’t look dazed as they should. Billy’s still sharp. Taking this all in. Present in a way that’s probably dangerous.
So. Jim does what any reasonable person would do. And proceeds to fuck the living hell out of Billy Hargrove’s pretty face.
Holding his curly blonde hair with both hands now. Thrusting into his mouth harsh and fast. Billy groans. His shoulders are tense. Arm flexed as he pumps his own cock. Jim’s not gonna come first. That’s for sure. He pulls on Billy’s hair. Makes him moan.
“That’s right. You got such a pretty little fuck hole, don’t you? Bet you spend a lot of time on your knees like this. You obviously get off on it.” Jim speeds up.
Billy’s cheeks are real wet now.
“Are you gonna come?” Jim tugs on Billy’s hair again. “Gonna make a mess all over the floor?”
Billy tenses. Gags a little. Jim pulls out. He wants to hear it. And it’s goddamn worth it. Billy moans so pretty as he comes, making a sticky little puddle on the dark green carpet. Voice all broken and raspy. His face is flushed. Lips swollen. He’s beautiful.
Jim keeps a hold on Billy’s hair with one hand. Forcing him to crane his neck back. He wraps a hand around his own cock. Strokes it fast. Tight. Rubbing the tip of it on Billy’s lips.
It’s a desperate jolt of pleasure. Then he’s coming on Billy’s face. Splattering globs of white across it. What a
goddamn masterpiece.
Jim slumps back. Leaning on the desk. Billy licks off his lips. Whatever he can reach. Then he drags two fingers across his cheek, gathering up come so he can put it in his mouth and swallow it while maintaining direct eye contact.
“Jesus.” Jim grunts. What else is he supposed to do?
“I’ll say.” Billy’s voice is shot. Sounds like he just gargled a whole bottle of whiskey. “I haven’t been throat fucked like that since middle school.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m kidding.” Billy smiles.
Jim’s really not sure if he believes that. He’s also not gonna press the issue. Instead he hitches up his pants. Tries to make himself look presentable. Billy does the same. Tucks himself away. Pulls the bottom of his white tank top up enough to wipe his face off. But he’s still on the floor, so Jim he offers a hand. Helps him up.
That’s all he intended to do. After pulling him up to his feet, though, Billy presses against him.
“That was fun, Chief.” He rocks up onto his tiptoes and kisses Jim on the cheek.
Jim’s so startled he doesn’t notice the envelope Billy left on the desk. He doesn’t notice it until after Billy’s out of the room. Inside said envelope are the two tickets Jim wrote, with a check for a hundred and twenty dollars made out to the Hawkins Police Department.
Jim’s gonna have a heart attack.
***
The next time Jim takes the girls to the pool, there’s no trouble. Apparently, Jane’s lifetime ban is null and void. Billy is also nowhere to be seen. Which Jim definitely didn’t do on purpose. Not like Max mentioned Billy had a doctor’s appointment and couldn’t drop her off, so Jim decided it was a perfect day for a swim.
Jim just. Yeah. He doesn’t make a habit of dealing with non-pressing issues. If it can be ignored, it should be.
He’s got his lemonade. Got a Tony Hillerman book he’s barely cracked open. He’s ready for a relaxing afternoon.
But then there’s someone standing in his sunlight. Casting a shadow over him. He doesn’t want to look up. It feels like an ice cube just slid down his spine.
“Heya, Chief.”
“Hello, Billy.”
The shadow moves. He’s hopeful for a moment. But then Billy is sitting on the edge of the lounge chair that’s directly next to him. Grinning like the cat who got the canary.
“Did you need something? Was I breaking a rule you made up?” Jim pointedly turns a page of his book.
“Nah. I’ve just been meaning to ask you… that check for the tickets never cleared. Is that something I need to be worried about?”
“Nope.” Jim knows his shoulders are tense. He might have ripped up both the check and the tickets. Might have made some panicked excuses and gotten some strange looks. But that’s his own business.
“So there’s not gonna be another court summons or anything?”
“Nope.”
“Cool.”
God damn it. Jim wants to slap Billy across the face. He looks entirely too pleased with himself. And he’s not leaving. He’s just sitting there.
“Aren’t you working or something?” Jim snaps. He can’t believe Max gave him bad intel. It’s ruined his day.
“Nah. I just came for a swim.” Billy shifts. Stretching out on the chair. This can’t be happening. Jim is not going to sit here. Next to Billy Hargrove. Even if it’s mildly plausible that Billy could just be here watching his sister. It’s. It’s too much.
“So go swim.” Jim tries not to sound panicked. It’s probably not working. “Or find somewhere to sit that isn’t here.”
Billy looks around pointedly. There aren’t many other chairs available. Jim was at the end of the row with pretty much the only empty seat next to him.
“What are you doing Saturday?” Billy leans in. At least talking quiet enough that Mr. Miller, who’s snoring on the other side of him, isn’t likely to wake up.
“What’s it to you?”
“I know Jane’s staying the night with Max. Got the house to yourself?”
“Still don’t see how that’s relevant.” Jim knows he’s going red. At least he can blame it on the heat. The sun beating down on him.
“I dunno. Figured I could stop by and suck your dick without the pretense.”
Jim has actually lost the ability to speak. He has no words. He drops his book and just stares at Billy. The audacity. Of saying something like that in public. Fucking hell.
Billy must take his silence as a yes. Because he settles back in his chair. Crosses his ankles. Lights a cigarette.
“I’ll be there at eight. Make me dinner or something. I’m not trashy.”
“I’d say that’s arguable.” Is what Jim mutters. Strained. Barely clinging to his composure. It’s still not a no . What’s wrong with him?
It’s that voice in the back of his head again. Reminding him how Billy’s mouth felt. Don’t you wonder how other parts of him might feel.
“Yeah. Whatever. I think you like it.” Billy blows out a smoke ring.
Jim takes a long drink of his whiskey lemonade. What’s one more bad decision in the grand scheme of things?