It bugged him, but he wasn’t giving up. He checked the door and secured the key in the lockbox. He’d take his time. Goal-oriented and competitive, he always made his sales numbers. A challenge suited him. Josh presented one. Steve’s navel stretched with his finger. His lips pursed. He would close this deal.
Chapter 13
The wheels rolled up on the driveway, and Josh’s heels landed on the cement. Steve wasn’t there yet and usually arrived first. This unexpected tardiness raised concern. Maybe he should let Steve pick him up next time, better waiting at home than on the street.
The helmet was hot, so he took it off, got up, and stored it in the side compartment. Then he straddled the bike again and waited.
He liked the neighborhood. Under a row of bright streetlamps, the block bloomed with desert willow, and petals fell from red-leafed plum trees. Tall palms swayed in the warm wind.
Nice yard, a lawn and big pines, the round boughs billowed like storm clouds in the dark. Most of the houses he’d seen so far had desert landscaping, which he learned more often than not amounted to a lonely cactus in a pile of dirt and rocks. No gravel here, this yard overflowed with flowering sage, purple, and pink Indian hawthorn among a rosemary hedge. He liked it but wasn’t sure he would want to maintain it.
Lightning flashed in the distance. Over the mountains, thunderclouds lit up through the trees. An odor drifted on the breeze. He described it to himself as honey-like but musky and sniffed to get a better whiff.
It seldom rained here, and when it did, this scent filled the valley. Years ago, when he first encountered it, he had thought that he might have imagined it until one day Mike told him what it was, the spindly creosote bush, which covered the Mojave knee-high and emitted a perfume when wet. Mystery solved.
It smelled like rain to his neighbor. Mike always described it that way. Josh crinkled his nose. It smelled, but not like any rain he’d ever known. Besides it wasn’t raining, not there anyway. It might have rained somewhere. In Las Vegas, it could pour on two or three streets, while a block away the sun shined.
Not like Quebec, where when it rained, it rained all over and for days sometimes. The scent of salt came back to him. Funny how aromas triggered memories. Or had memory somehow stimulated his nose? He inhaled the salty air and imagined himself in his old home by the sea.
Near the city, fresh waters met briny, where the Gulf of St. Lawrence stretched a long finger to touch the mouth of the river. It widened and mingled. There, he’d first sensed it in the air, the scent of salt, were there such a thing.
He never detected it from a shaker, despite trying sometimes. Just to be sure, he still sniffed one occasionally. It didn’t make sense to him. Salt should smell like salt, though in its crystalline form, he found it quite odorless.
Lightning flashed above the mountains. Thunder rolled on a cooling breeze, which lifted the hair from his neck and kissed it. A perfume enveloped him, not one of rain but of salt.
It might have been anticipation. The scent didn’t belong here or to a person necessarily, though he came to associate it with Steve, maybe just by imagination. He missed the sea. Those summer days right out of school when he sailed on the estuary with that boy he left in Quebec, the one he might have loved, if not for the curse. It wouldn’t work out. It never did.
Lonely raindrops mottled the pavement. Palm up, he waited to catch one if he could. Steve’s car parked on the street.
“What are you doing?” Steve walked up to him.
“I miss the rain.” His palm folded and fell, still dry. He swung a leg off the bike.
Steve folded his arms. “You should let me pick you up next time. I’m supposed to. It’s part of my job. That’s why I get the tax deduction. I need it. Help me out here. Car rich, cash poor, you know.”
“Okay, maybe next time, thanks.” A drop splattered on Josh’s forehead, and he brushed it off. He had to be careful and go slow. No Tuesdays. Temptation might trump good judgment. He’d already hurt Steve. That wild night when they first met, he’d set a precedent he couldn’t keep. He wouldn’t repeat that mistake unless certain. Too soon to tell now, they barely knew each other after all.
Steve gestured him toward the front stoop and tapped a code on the lockbox. As Steve put the key in the door and opened it, cool air flowed out of the house and brushed Josh’s face. It blew past Steve and wafted his familiar scent, something of the sea, breezy and petulant. Even above the tobacco, it stood out and Josh’s nose expected it. He inhaled. Indeed, it never disappointed, like the cut of Steve’s slacks.
The realtor dressed as usual for these meetings in business attire, proper though casual. Above Steve’s muscled chest, a white button-up shirt, open at the collar, revealed the clavicle’s curve, which buttressed the columns of his throat and framed his ample Adam’s apple, one of Josh’s favorite parts. Polished leather shoes shined. And for a bonus, sharp creased pants carried a package. It never failed to capture Josh’s attention, well, at least his imagination. He had to be careful not to be too obvious. After all, Steve was just his realtor. The curse made things so complicated. He stepped in the house.
“Built just five years ago.” Steve launched his annoying salesman’s voice. “This spacious Green Valley ranch.” He circled the empty room and gestured with sweeping arms. “Featuring three bedrooms and two full baths.” That weird ringtone interrupted like before. Steve stopped in his tracks and fumbled for his phone.
This was when Josh’s app for music recognition came in handy. It sometimes identified songs he liked at the bar. He pulled out his phone and tapped it. In an instant the app analyzed the ringtone’s melody and produced a result. Josh read out loud. “Nobody Does It Better, made popular by Carly Simon, 1977.” So, that was it. Steve was supposedly single and unattached. Apparently not. “Take the call, why don’t you?”
Steve silenced it. “I don’t want to. The best of Bond, you know, before we were born.”
Josh’s fingers absentmindedly climbed to his hair and twisted. “No, you should. It sounds important.”
“It isn’t.” Steve avoided eye contact.
“Are you sure? Nobody does it better?” A twinge at the root, he’d probably pulled a hair out and hated it when that happened.
Steve paced a circle in the empty room. Leather heels tapped the hardwood floor. “It’s not important. I don’t want to take it. Not while I’m with a client.”
“I can wait.” Josh folded his arms. “Make your call.” He knew this was a mistake. He needed a new realtor.
Steve glared and circled. Shadows cast on the empty wall. “I told him no. I’m not going to see him. I’ve got a thing for this client.” Steve stared at him.
Josh stared back. His feet lead him to follow Steve’s pacing. Not sure why on reflection, Josh didn’t need to, but his feet followed anyway. “How’s that going, this thing with your client?” Not well for Josh, but for some reason he desired Steve’s thoughts on the matter.
This was when Steve put on his act, probably something from his show, though this was speculation on Josh’s part, having never seen it. With an entertainer’s flare, Steve swaggered the length of the wall before a sharp turn back in Josh’s direction. “Fucking frustrating. It’s hard, real, real hard.” Steve’s eyes dropped down pointedly to his belt buckle with a hip flip for drama.
Josh’s eyes couldn’t resist and, taking the queue, glanced there too. It seemed the thing to do. No bigger bulge than usual, he didn’t understand what all the fuss was about and couldn’t believe Steve’s strutting. “Oh my God, was that necessary?”
When Josh’s eyes rose, Steve’s met them above a killer smile. “Did I say it was for you, this thing I have? Maybe it isn’t. I have lots of clients.”
The ceiling summoned Josh’s attention. “Of course not. I didn’t say it was me.”
“You might as well have.” Steve stepped up to him, haughtily.
“And why’s that?” Josh kind of already knew the answer at this point.
The lump in Josh’s throat went down hard. “I do not. After that show you put on, any client would.” He did recall looking once or twice, hardly at all.
“You’re right. Maybe the other guy would have looked too.” Steve got too close. “But only one of you can have me, if he wants me.”
Josh’s eyes fled to the door and envisioned the street. His face turned away from Steve. “I don’t. Did you ever consider that maybe I just wanted to get to know you?”
Steve spoke to his back. “What’s to know? What’s not to like? I’m your trusted realtor, and I dance on The Strip. We spent a night together. It’s not like I’m hiding anything, unlike my client.”
“Is he?” Josh resented the accusation, though true.
Their shadows met on the wall. Steve exhaled long and deep behind him. “Could be. Maybe it’s not a big deal, whatever it is.” Steve’s voice was softer than the breath on his neck.
This gave Josh’s rambling mind some pause. Steve seemed to understand more than he’d expected. Still, it took a minute to find the courage to face him. “You left something out you ought to know.”
Steve folded his arms across his chest and grimaced. “I did? Okay. Here it comes. Let me have it.”
Josh’s eyes sunk to Steve’s feet. “You’re patient and considerate.”
Steve’s arms unfolded and fell to his sides. “I am? Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re here, not under the best of circumstances, and I know from that night.” Josh glanced at the bulge again, bigger now. Panic. The door beckoned him. “This place is nice, but the yard’s so overgrown. It’s too much maintenance. I’d hate to see the water bill. Desert landscaping’s better.”
“Change of subject?” Steve placed his hands on his hips. “Okay, here we go again.”
Josh looked Steve right in the eye. “I’ve seen enough here. Do you have something else?”
Steve’s arms spread wide. “Hey, if you don’t like this, I got nothing.” He paused. Arms dropped. “Maybe.”
“Tomorrow? Same time?” Josh held his breath.
“I’ll pick you up.”
On the way out they stood on the grass and looked at the stormy sky. Sprinklers turned on unexpectedly, and they ran through the spray to the sidewalk. Steve laughed. Not Josh, he didn’t like surprises.
Chapter 14
Josh looked out the crack in the curtain. A full moon tonight, he drifted back to Quebec and the sea. As Steve appeared on the sidewalk and strutted across the yard, Josh’s ocean memories swelled up around the swagger. Steve swayed like some tall ship sailing. Josh often wandered on these shores.
For him, the ocean epitomized romance. Once while on tour with no show that day, he strolled through some dunes and came upon a hidden beach. There he met a like-minded man. Alone, they made love in the surf. Cold and gritty, nothing like the movies, it fell short of expectation. Yet with Steve, Josh’s maritime fantasy revived just as he’d imagined it in warm waters and soft sands. Whether the sea summoned Steve for him, or Steve invoked for him the sea, to Josh, they were intertwined as one.
The ring flashed with moonlight on his finger, and his eye flew to it. On its many voyages, with the circus in steerage from Egypt to Istanbul, to Marseille, and then to Quebec, the ring passed down from generations, as it crossed the seas on wind and steam. Before those voyages, the Great Dalenzo was free and the curse yet to be, when he sailed from Palermo to Marrakech, across the coast of Africa to Tripoli, and finally to fated Alexandria.
A knock on the door.
Josh opened it.
“Ready to go?” Steve gave a cockeyed look. “Why’s your bike in the house?”
“No garage.”
“Oh? We should do something about that.”
“It’s okay. I’m ready. Let’s go. Where did you park?” He stepped out and locked the door behind him.
“Over there.” Steve pointed.
The car was parked on the street in front of Mike’s house. “Use my driveway next time.” The BMW was nice, luxurious, as one might expect from a realtor, and quite a step up from the bike. Doors, Josh usually didn’t have to deal with them. He opened it and slid into the plush upholstery. When he closed the door behind him, it gave the subtle thud of a fine finish, nothing tinny or hollow about it. Soon on the freeway, the cabin was quiet and the ride smoother than the leather seat. Cool air blew from the vents, a refreshing change from the open road. “Thanks for driving.”
Steve smiled at him. “My pleasure.”
Josh inhaled the scent of salt, maybe too close.
Steve gave him a strange look. “Did you just stiff me?”
“Huh? No! Allergies.” He pointed to his nose and sniffled.
Steve’s free hand shook a cigarette up from the pack, and he pulled it out with his lips. “Do you mind?”
“No.” Josh lied. The smoke masked the salt.
Steve used the car’s lighter and inhaled. “How was your show tonight?”
“Busy. And yours?” He wasn’t good at small talk.
Steve blew smoke. “Yeah. Hey, do you like movies?”
“Sure.” He suspected he didn’t like them quite as much as Steve, who had all those film posters framed in his apartment. On Josh’s only visit there, he’d bumped into one. “I like reading.” Josh’s favorite was romance, even more so since he’d never really had one. “It’s amazing how books make words come to life.”
“Hey, I’m getting something to eat after. You want to come? If not, I’ll take you home first.” Steve pulled off the freeway.
“Sure, I’ll go with you. I have to eat.” That sounded nice.
“Diner okay?”
“Fine.” Little else was open this late at night.
Steve took a deep drag, and the smoke poured out. “This listing has copper pipes. If that’s what you want, you’re probably going to have to look at some older homes. This one’s built mid-eighties. They almost always use the plastic tubing now. You’re right, it bursts sometimes. You hear about it.” He made a right hand turn at a red light. “My dad says it’s usually caused by bad construction. He said building codes used to be better, but this house is thirty years old. It’s going to have some maintenance no matter what.”
Josh’s hair twisted on his finger. “I don’t want the plastic. I decided. My house has copper. It’s seventy years now, and my neighbor says he never had a leak.” Josh’s hand dropped from his hair, and he rubbed the crook of his knee.
“You want copper? Then copper it is. This listing even has a garage. Want to sell your place and get a new one?”
“My uncle wouldn’t like that. He might come home someday.”
“And it has a pool!” Steve flicked ashes in a coke can.
“I don’t want a pool. It’s too much upkeep.” Hadn’t they talked about this?
“I wish I’d known. Did we talk about it? You know, it’s the tenant who does the cleaning.”
“Yeah, but still. What about the repairs and vacancies?” If he wasn’t so damn hot for Steve, he should get another realtor.
“Want to see it anyway?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He just wanted to sit forever in this car with Steve.
“I don’t have anything else to show you tonight. You still want to eat?”
“Why not.”
Steve drove a few miles and parked by the Blueberry Thrill Diner, open all night. They walked in, and Steve asked for a booth. If it wasn’t Josh’s imagination, some heads turned as Steve walked by. He tended to stand out in a crowd. It could have been his stride, as shoulders listed side to side on sea legs.
The waitress spoke first to Steve, ignoring Josh’s smile. Maybe the luster in Steve’s eyes caught her attention. Steve asked for iced tea, unsweetened. As if an afterthought, she looked Josh’s way for his order.
“I’ll have what you’re having, I mean what he’s having,” Josh said.
/> She smiled at Steve before she left.
“You don’t take sugar?” Josh asked.
“I save the calories for beer.” Steve sipped his tea. “We can’t have everything. Thanks for coming with me. I hate to eat alone.”
Josh’s eyes drifted to the saltshaker. He picked it up and sniffed at it. No, it wasn’t that.
“Something wrong with the salt?” Steve asked.
“Nothing. It’s perfect.” He put the shaker down. “Thanks for suggesting this. It’s nice.” It had none of the edge of some their previous encounters. Comfortable. He could get used to it and opened his menu.
Steve looked at his. “Meatloaf’s not bad. I think it’s good you’re taking your time to decide. It’s important to look around and figure out what you want. I’m glad you’re letting me help you. It’s a big investment.”
“Thanks. How long should it take?” Josh asked.
“It depends. You’ll know when it’s time.”
“Does it ever get to be too much effort for you?”
“No. It’s my job, and I’m kind and patient. Or was it considerate?” Steve switched on those lustrous eyes and the flashing smile.
This set Josh at ease in a way he’d never been with a man. Yet, fear of the curse kept him distant and cautious. Steve deserved better, so did he. Nothing more to say for now, he basked in Steve’s eyes and smiled back, which spoke for itself.
The waitress came by and took the order, Steve first, Josh an afterthought. Steve got the meatloaf.
“I’ll have the same as you,” Josh said.
She made a note and smiled at Steve before she left.
“Still on for tomorrow?” Steve asked. “There’s one in Spring Valley that’s vacant, desert landscaping and copper pipes. If you want more options, maybe we could go during the day. Sometimes you get a better sense for a place when it’s furnished and lived-in.”
“I could get up early, at maybe two or three,” Josh said. “If I leave enough time, it’s okay. You know, I perform forty feet off the ground. One has to prepare for that.”
The Curse of Flight Page 7
