Only You by Jerry Cole (the top 100 crime novels of all time TXT) 📕

Bradley went straight for Sherman, pulled him from the fridge and gave him a kiss on the lips.

As if he knew this was coming – because he probably did – Sherman spun himself around and planted his own kiss first. “Yum,” he smiled and licked his lips. “Better than anything in here.”

Bradley could taste remnants of cocaine on Sherman’s lips and gums, but again said nothing. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Did you just call my apartment home?” Sherman smirked.

“You know what I mean,” Bradley slapped at him. “It’s not even lunch yet. Early mark?”

Sherman’s sunny disposition changed on a dime. His body sagged and his face dropped. “Covid,” he muttered. Now, Bradley understood why Sherman was home doing drugs so early in the day. Now, he almost felt bad for being upset with him.

“Covid? What do you mean?”

Bradley tried not to mention Covid where he could. Although it was affecting everyone across the globe in different ways, it seemed to have hit Sherman harder than most. The last few months had seen DreamLine Travel take a nosedive as Australia cut itself off from more and more countries. There were only a handful now that people were allowed to fly in from and this list was quickly shrinking. Worse that none of these flights were travelers on holidays either, but people rushing home before the boarders shut completely.

It was a scary time regardless of what one did for work, and suffice to say, Sherman was not handling it well.

“They sent us home,” Sherman explained. Almost automatically, he went for the liquor cabinet, popped it open and started to rifle through.

“Who?”

“HR — Nick signed off on it, if you believe that? Fucking conspiracy theorist.” He had a bottle of vodka in his hand and he made for the glasses as if he meant to pour himself some.

Bradley rolled his eyes and snatched the bottle from Sherman’s hand. He was being purposefully obtuse and it was starting to annoy him. “Why did HR send you home?” he pressed. “Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to —”

“Because one person tested positive for Covid – one! And not even on my floor. But as soon as they did the entire building was sent home. Do you believe that?!”

“No... I don’t.” Bradley didn’t know what to say. He knew things were getting bad, and he’d heard similar stories in other countries... but for that to happen here? And over one person. It seemed ridiculous. “What happens tomorrow then? Do you all go back in?”

“Home for the rest of the week,” he shrugged. He reached for the bottle of vodka, but Bradley held it out of reach. “Assuming our tests come back negative.”

“You got tested?!”

“Had to – oh, they said all spouses and partners and such should too. But I figure you can wait until my test comes back before worrying.” He then snatched the bottle from Bradley’s hand and skipped across the kitchen.

Bradley didn’t try to stop him, but only because he was too concerned about what Sherman just told him to worry about whether he was going to get drunk at 12PM on a Tuesday. Fuck, maybe Bradley should join him?

Covid was starting to spiral out of control. In some countries, entire cities had been sent into lockdown where you weren’t even allowed to leave your home. It was bizarre and a little scary and although Bradley didn’t think it would happen here... what if it did?

The first question that came to mind was what would he do if he were forced into lockdown? Would he fly home and stay with his mother? Would he move in with Sherman? Or would he stay at his own place in Sydney, but be locked inside alone with no one to talk to? None of those options were really an option at all.

And then there was his work. Again, there were stories of productions overseas having to shut down because of Covid. Would that happen here? If Bradley did get that role, would he lose it just as quickly?

“You know what, pour me one too.” He indicated to the bottle of vodka. Sherman beamed and grabbed another glass.

“Looks like we’re getting day drunk – oh! How was the audition? I didn’t even ask!”

The rest of that afternoon was actually rather pleasant. Once Covid was covered and moved on from, the rest of the day was just like any other. They drank, they lounged about and they drank some more. When it got later in the afternoon, Bradley elected to start making dinner – just a basic spaghetti bolognaise – and Sherman elected to watch and comment.

“I like my pasta al dente,” Sherman commanded. He was tipsy by this point, sitting on the kitchen bench, eyes just a little glazed over.

“Do you even know what that means?” Bradley wasn’t even up to making the pasta yet, as he was still cooking the meat. But he laughed and shook his head anyway.

“Hey, just because I can’t cook doesn’t mean I don’t know fancy things. I am rich after all.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Bradley agreed sarcastically. “How about I make this sauce tarte style?” It made no sense, but that was the point.

“Perfect! With a side of caviar, thank you.”

No matter what the situation, Sherman always had the ability to lighten the mood and turn most things into a joke of sorts. Nothing was ever serious when Sherman was about, and for that, Bradley loved him...

Love. It was a big word and one that floated in and out of Bradley’s consciousness more often than not these days. The way he felt about Sherman was... well, it was complicated. He liked the man, he adored him, he lusted after him. He knew that his life would be worse without him, and he was