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  "Are you...you know, involved with both of them?" Karen asked euphemistically.

  "The bizarre thing is, Karen, I don't know."

  "How can you not know? You're either... involved ...or you're not."

  "Well, after work today, Dr. Cocksucker is going to get to live up to his name, and I don't mean in the fun way." Adrian's shoulders drooped, and Karen could tell he was torn up. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

  "I know it seems completely out of control right now, but you're smart and caring and it'll get sorted out. I know it will."

  "Are you a praying kind of person?" Adrian asked.

  Karen bit her lip, "I don't know, sometimes I guess."

  "Well if you have any pull with the big guy upstairs, I suggest you exert some influence." He looked at his watch, "We better get going, or Mr. Robertson is going to be pissed. He's waited a week for his referral for a hemorrhoidectomy."

  "Well, Mr. Robertson isn't the only one with a giant pain in the ass," Karen said. They both tried to laugh, but things seemed impossibly gloomy.

  During the afternoon, Adrian thought about where he should meet Clayton. Given their tendency to start making out when left alone, he didn't want to give the meth-head any more opportunity to gather ammunition. There was the problem too, of making amends with Randall, and the lesser but conspicuous issue of driving a truck emblazoned with 'Dr. Cocksucker.'

  They closed up the clinic and Adrian went to Clayton's office. Clayton had a stack of charts on his desk and was dictating into a little handheld recorder.

  Clayton clicked off the recorder and gestured to the stack, "Why can't I ever seem to catch up on my charting?" He threw the device on the desk with a sigh, "Let's get out of here. Where do you want to go?"

  "Let's drive to Billings."

  "Billings? On a weeknight?"

  "We'll be there by 7:30, have dinner, and be back by eleven. I'll buy the gas, but Dr. Cocksucker can't really drive."

  They both had to laugh. Somehow the tagging of the truck was starting to seem more ridiculous than scary.

  "Do you think we can drop my truck off at Bud's garage on the way out of town? I really, really need a fast paint job."

  If Bud was shocked by the condition of Adrian's truck, he hid it well. But Clayton stayed in his car and didn't venture in while Adrian conducted business. Bud told him it would take a couple of days to repaint the truck. Adrian hated the idea of being without a vehicle, but he'd just have to figure it out. Maybe Karen could give him a lift into work.

  Soon he and Clayton were on their way. The sun was getting low in the sky, and there is something about driving on long stretches of Montana highway that puts the mind into free-form association.

  "Do you ever go to the bars in Billings?" Adrian asked Clayton.

  "The bars, or the gay bars?" Clayton asked in return.

  "The gay bars. Do you ever go hang out or pick up guys or watch the shows?"

  "No." There was firmness to Clayton's tone.

  "Why not?"

  "I don't know...it's...not exactly my scene."

  "What do you mean by that?" Adrian continued to probe.

  "Adrian, I guess I haven't been clear, but I'm not gay."

  "Not gay? Then what made you try to give me a tonsillectomy with your tongue yesterday?"

  "I didn't say I wasn't attracted to men." Clayton tapped the steering wheel with the flat of one hand, trying to channel his energy somewhere. "I'm bisexual-really, truly, completely, bi. It just doesn't matter to me if the person I'm with is male or female. If they are kind, and cool, and get my rocks off, I can play for either team."

  Adrian blinked, "Wow, I...I just made an assumption, I didn't realize Clayton."

  "That's why it's really hard for me to be open about my preference, or lack thereof. People have even less understanding and tolerance for switch hitters than they do for people who are gay. Until I settle down for the long haul with someone, I'm trying to avoid labeling myself."

  "No, I get it. People never believe that you aren't looking at the other side of the fence when you're with them, do they?"

  "Something like that." Clayton's face looked tense as he drove, "I made a terrible mistake once. I...got confused. There was a woman that I was deeply in love with, and a man that I found really intriguing and attractive. He is gay...and he was so lonely...it was a very vulnerable time in his life, and we...well, we were crushing on each other and it went too far. I cheated on my girlfriend. This man and I...we were only together a couple of times, but the second time, my girlfriend caught us and it turned into a disaster."

  Adrian couldn't believe that Clayton was telling him this. Maybe it would make telling him about the extortion a little easier.

  "That must have been really painful Clayton." Adrian turned to look at him, "So did she blame the other man for stealing you away from her?"

  Clayton nodded, "And the worst part was that he was her best friend. We both felt like we had betrayed her. Clearly I was wrong for cheating on her, but she would never let me try to explain it to her, explain how much her friend was hurting, and explain I cared about him, but that I really loved her-was in love- with her . The affair was impulsive, and she was stubborn and hurt and angry, and then her friend went on terrible drunken bender and slept with some skank, and I couldn't get over that. Thank god he pulled himself together, and we all manage to be civil to each other now, but it wrecked the closeness we felt."

  Clayton's voice was thick and husky, and Adrian could hear in his words how guilty he felt, and how much he had loved Karen and cared about Randall. Adrian felt like he should let things settle for a bit, before he brought up the new complication. They were almost to Billings and he felt like Clayton needed a breather before he hit him in the gut again.

  After a decent pause, Clayton tried to lighten the mood, "So where do you want to go eat?"

  "I don't really care, I guess it would be nice to have something we can't find in Red Wheel."

  "There's this little Thai restaurant I know, it's quiet and the food is good, how about that?" Clayton was slowing the car as they came into town.

  "Perfect."

  After they ordered at the restaurant, Clayton asked, "Okay, so what's going on that two colleagues have to hide in Billings?"

  "There's no nice way to say this, so I'll just say it. I'm being extorted."

  Clayton jerked. "Extorted? Like blackmail?"

  Adrian expelled a long sigh, "Yeah, like blackmail. This asshole that's cooking meth is threatening me if I don't get him some large quantities of pseudophedrine."

  "You could lose your license!" Clayton blurted.

  "No kidding. But it involves you...and Randall...and in a way, Karen."

  Now it was Clayton's turn to sigh. "So you know that the story I just told you..."

  "It's okay, I'd guessed a lot of it already, you just kind of confirmed what I suspected...but I think this guy has been blackmailing Randall too. For a long time-maybe threatening to out him, I suspect, or worse."

  "Who's going to believe a speed creep?" Clayton spat.

  "That's what I said, and then...he showed me pictures."

  "Pictures? Of Randall?"

  Adrian nodded slowly, "Of Randall-apparently on that last terrible bender-and there were...compromising pictures of you with Randall."

  "Pictures of us?" Clayton nervously ran his hand back through his hair, "Doing what?"

  "You were undressed and...kissing. That asshole spied on you."

  The waiter set down two beers, and they both picked them up hastily and swigged off them. Clayton was in a state of shock, and Adrian felt creepy telling him what he had seen.

  "I destroyed the pictures, Clayton, but they were just copies. He told me that if I didn't make good with the drugs, he was going to out you and Randall."

  "Holy shit. That would be like a knife in Karen's heart all over again. She's kept what she saw secret all these years, which is amazing, but I... don't want her to rel
ive our infidelity."

  "If she's kept your secret all this time, maybe she still has some love left for you, Clayton. She's been asking me questions that make me wonder if she might be ready to forgive and try to understand what happened. You're right, she's discreet and never mentioned any names, but I put it together."

  "So you've had more contact with Randall than just help changing a flat?" Adrian looked a little miffed. "Did you screw him?"

  "Randall isn't my boss, and when it happened, I didn't know my boss had an interest in men. Then I saw something I shouldn't have, and I misunderstood it and I was really unkind." Adrian propped his chin in his hand. "How is it possible to get embroiled in all of this when I've only been in town less than two weeks?"

  "Welcome to Red Wheel. Small towns breed scandal like no place else, Adrian."

  Adrian's throat constricted, he wanted to cry, "So what do I do? I can't succumb to this guy's threats, but I can't let him out you and Randall either. And the last thing I want to do right now is hurt Karen. We've really gotten tight in such a short time."

  Clayton looked sadly envious. "Yeah, she's great. Smart and funny and athletic...and beautiful."

  Adrian studied Clayton's face, "Are you still in love with her?"

  "Maybe, yes...it's hard to think about it as a hypothetical, Adrian. I've put her out of my mind in that way and tried to move on." He glanced around the restaurant, trying to deflect his emotions. "What about Randall, do you have feelings for him?"

  "I had one of the greatest days of my adult life with Randall, but it'll be a miracle if he takes my call after what I did." Adrian looked at Clayton, and wanted to hug him, "I think you're incredibly special Clayton, and sexy and an amazing doc-which as you know, gets me incredibly horny!"

  Clayton laughed softly, "But I'm your boss."

  "Yeah, it's just a hard thing to see our way around...and maybe, it's not too late for Karen."

  "My fantasy would be a threesome with the both of you," he kidded. "And if Randall were in there too, all the better."

  Adrian smiled, "I'm not sure Karen is going to be up for that much kink, but if we can get Mr. Meth to stop screwing with our lives, who knows what might be possible?"

  "So how are we going to do that?" Clayton looked a little doubtful.

  "I don't know yet, but we'll think of something. I've got to get in touch with Randall, though, and try to make things right with him, at least as friends. And I'm going to have a post-canoe race cookout on Saturday, and you are going to come, and you're going to talk to Karen about who you really are, and how you really feel."

  Clayton looked a little more hopeful. "You make it sound like I could get her back."

  Adrian shrugged, "Maybe you can...but at least maybe we can salvage some friendships."

  The pad thai was delicious and the more optimistic tone of their conversation gave both Adrian and Clayton an appetite. They tried to talk about more normal things, work and weather, and the upcoming canoe race on Saturday. They piled back into Clayton's car for the ride to Red Wheel, and Clayton encouraged Adrian to try calling Randall. He attempted a couple of times, but each time it went to voicemail.

  "By the way," Clayton said, "Did anyone tell you that you're on the schedule for the ER tomorrow night?"

  "Nope."

  "Damn, I think I was supposed to be the one to tell you." Clayton tapped the steering wheel, "Sorry about that."

  "The race starts at 1pm on Saturday, do I have to be up all night?" Adrian wanted to make sure he was rested as he had ever intention of he and Karen winning.

  "Uh uh, my screw up. I'll relieve you at midnight. Okay?"

  "That would be great, I'll just have to figure out how to get home without a car. I was hoping to pick up my truck before the race."

  "You can take my car, and I'll sleep at the hospital. Not a big deal, I do it more often than you might think." Adrian smiled sheepishly.

  ***

  All day Friday, Adrian kept trying to call Randall, but Randall never answered his phone. He did tell Karen that he was having a cookout after the race, and that he was inviting a few people, without naming names. Adrian did invite the pharmacist and the radiologist, and a several of the nurses he'd gotten to know, including their lone male nurse, Lance, who was gay. He seemed very excited, and shyly asked Adrian if it was okay if he brought his boyfriend, and Adrian told him, of course. The fact was that Adrian liked the idea of trying to create more community among Red Wheel's non-heterosexual residents.

  After the clinic closed at 5:30, things grew quiet at Bear Paw. It turned out that Lance was on shift with Adrian, and they spent a lot of time chatting, since there seemed to be few emergencies in Red Wheel. There was a simple broken arm from a skateboarding crash, and Adrian sewed up a fish-cleaning mishap involving a fillet knife. Around ten, he and Lance got out a deck of cards, and began playing Hearts. And at 10:15 the call came in: the local paramedics were transporting a serious burn victim. Adrian called Clayton to come in for backup, and Lance paged one of the floor nurses on overnight to come down to help them. They waited outside the Emergency room entrance. Lance and the other nurse looked tense, wondering whom it might be. In a town the size of Red Wheel, there was a high probability it might be a friend, a neighbor, even a family member.

  They could see in the distance the flashing blue lights of a police car as well as the red siren of the ambulance, and a familiar looking dark green, park service pick-up sped along behind. If it was coming from the park, Adrian thought the most likely thing would be a propane tank explosion, or using lighter fluid in some stupid way. It was unlikely that someone falling in a campfire could get burned that badly.

  The ambulance wheeled up to the entrance and the backdoor flew open as the paramedic yelled, "I'm losing him."

  When the gurney came out of the back of the ambulance, it was one of the worst things Adrian had ever seen in his medical practice. The man's face was pretty much melted off, and his hands, arms and torso were charred and blackened. At least a third of his body was covered in 3rd and 4th degree burns. Between the shock, and the havoc all the trauma of significant burns wreaked on heart and lungs, the man's chance of survival was virtually nonexistent.

  "It's chemical burns," the paramedic relayed, "It was probably several hours before he was found."

  The time factor was most concerning, and Adrian started calling instructions and they started a line to get in fluids, but the man wasn't breathing and they couldn't get a pulse. And then Randall appeared in the doorway, standing a discreet distance back since sterile procedure was incredibly important.

  Adrian glanced up and acknowledged Randall with a lift of his chin, "What do you know Randall? Anything that can help us here?"

  "It was shake and bake," Randall said.

  "Shake and bake? I don't understand."

  "It's a fast way to make small amounts of meth when you don't have enough cold pills to cook it. You take a few tabs and put them in a two-liter pop bottle with some incredible toxic household chemicals. The problem is that if the slightest bit of oxygen gets in the bottle, or they take the cap off too fast, or they shake it the wrong way, the whole thing will erupt in a giant chemical fireball. You can run if a lab catches fire, but when you're holding the lab in your hands, there's no place to go when it explodes."

  "Shit. Why are people idiots?" Adrian said sadly.

  Ten minutes later, Clayton arrived and he took the scene in at a quick glance. They were doing everything they could to resuscitate the man, but he simply wasn't responding. Clayton put a quiet hand on Adrian's arm, "You need to call it. He's not coming back."

  Adrian rubbed his forehead with the back of his gloved hand, and looked at the clock, his voice choked up with distress, "Time of death, 10:52 pm." And then the man's limp head rolled to one side, and Adrian saw a swatch of unburned flesh containing a tattoo, a tattoo of '420.' He stripped off his gloves and gown and stumbled out, almost running, desperately needing fresh air. A sick feeling of relief
spread through Adrian, but he couldn't possibly rejoice in the man's self-induced demise.

  A few moments later, Clayton appeared outside and all Adrian could say was, "It's him. It's him." Clayton nodded knowingly and then withdrew, indicating to Randall with a nod as he went back inside that he should join Adrian.

  "I got your messages, Adrian," Randall said quietly. "I've been dealing with a brush fire all day. When he blew himself up, it started a fire, and it jumped a road and got carried by the wind. It's been a mess all day long, trying to keep it contained because it's so dry."

  Adrian nodded, "You need to know something Randall-I know everything, about you and Clayton and Karen, and that poor dead guy in there, that's him-I know he's been blackmailing you because he was trying to blackmail me too. He wanted me to get him big quantities of pills so he could cook." Adrian stood bent over with his hands on his waist, like he'd been running hard. He looked up at Randall, "I understand now what I was really seeing up at Cheyenne Trail loop-he threatened you, I know."

  "Not just me," Randall said, slumping down on a bench, "He threatened to hurt Clayton and Karen, and then, he threatened to hurt you."

  "Oh no, no, no, no, you weren't at the trailhead because of me?" Adrian looked stricken.

  Randall said nothing, and his silence said everything. He drew in a deep breath, "He saw my truck and spied on us when we went fishing. He called me that night, while you were inside your cabin and I was cleaning the fish."

  Tears welled up in Adrian's eyes, "Can you forgive me?"

  "I can forgive you, but I get the sense that there's something going on between you and Clayton."

  Adrian wiped at his eyes, "He's my boss, which makes him off limits, and I think he's in love with Karen still, and most of all, I feel a connection to you that I've never felt with anyone."

  Randall's face brightened, "You mean that?"

  "Yes I mean that, but damn it, I've got a canoe race to win tomorrow, and a cookout to plan for afterwards."