The Distance

by Alexa Land

  Since I was planning to cocoon in front of the television and binge watch Supernatural until I passed out, I decided to gather plenty of supplies. I got a bag of popcorn going in the microwave, then checked to see what was for dessert. Even though living with Nana had taught me to expect the unexpected, I still jumped a bit when I opened the refrigerator.

  What at first glance looked like a row of ejaculating penises proved to be bananas topped with one large strawberry each, dipped in either white or milk chocolate. They’d been assembled on wooden skewers, neatly arranged in a block of florist’s foam to hold them upright, and apparently they’d each been topped with a dollop of whipped cream at some point. But as the cream deflated, it had trickled down the sides in a pretty unfortunate way.

  I gathered a light and dark fruit peen, a bottle of water, and a couple cans of soda, to minimize the number of times I’d have to get off the couch. By the time I added the bag of popcorn, my hands were pretty full, so I scooped up the bear in a headlock under my arm. Then, just because, I also found a box of red licorice in the cupboard and added it to my bounty.

  There was just one TV in the house, in the family room on the ground floor. It was accessible by a long hallway that extended off the foyer, past the curved staircase. I’d just started to head that way when someone knocked on the front door, and I muttered, “Really?”

  Using my index fingers, I managed to get the door unlocked and turned the knob, then used my foot to push the door open. I’d expected it to be one of Nana’s friends, since she knew half of San Francisco. What I most definitely had not been expecting was Trigger.

  He was dressed in the same t-shirt and jeans he’d been wearing at the art center, plus a black leather motorcycle jacket, and he was fidgeting nervously with a bouquet of daisies. I was so dumbfounded that all I could do was stare at him. My appearance pretty thoroughly threw him off, too. His mouth actually fell open as he took it all in, his gaze lingering on the chocolate cocks as he knit his brows and tried to work out what he was looking at.

  Trigger was the first to regain the power of speech, and mumbled self-consciously as he held up the flowers, “I, um, brought you these. Looks like your hands are full, though. What exactly are you doing?”

  I stared at those pretty, white daisies for a long moment, and a lump formed in my throat. I turned and almost ran to the kitchen, and he followed me and said, “Shit, was this wrong? I debated the idea of giving flowers to a guy for a long time, but finally decided, why not? I guess I fucked up, though. Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

  Every surface in the kitchen was still covered with bouquets, and I had to push some aside with my elbow before I could put down the food and drinks. I perched the bear on a barstool, took a deep breath and got my emotions in check before saying, “All my life, I wished someone would give me flowers. But, God, not like this.”

  “Not like what?”

  I’d been so mad at him, but now I just felt heartbroken as I turned to him and said, “Take those home and give them to your girlfriend, Trigger.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “She was your wife? That’s even worse.”

  He knit his brows and asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you think I’m blind? I saw you at the art center! And don’t even try pulling that ‘she’s just a friend’ bullshit! The connection between the two of you was off the charts.”

  “Please tell me you’re not talking about the tall brunette with short hair,” he said.

  “Of course that’s who I’m talking about!”

  “Oh, gross!”

  “What is?”

  “Dude, that was my twin sister, not my wife! I don’t know what the hell you think you saw between us, but just no!” He tossed the daisies in the sink and said, “You always assume the worst of me. Apparently you even think I’m capable of using you to cheat on someone! Why the hell would you sleep with me if you think so little of me?” I actually didn’t have an answer for that, and when I didn’t say anything, he turned and headed for the door.

  “Why did you come here tonight?” I asked as I trailed after him.

  He didn’t break his stride as he said, “To say thank you for being so nice to Izzy. She talked about you all evening. I was also going to ask you out on a date instead of just taking you to bed, but why the fuck would you go out with me when you think I’m a total lowlife?”

  I followed him out the front door, but stopped on the porch and called, “Trigger, wait.”

  He was halfway across the yard when he turned to look at me and said, “What if you’re wrong? What if every single thing you’ve ever assumed about me isn’t true? What if I didn’t hit your car on purpose that day you wrecked, and what if I run a clean race every time I get behind the wheel? What if everything you think you know about me is all based on your own misperceptions?”

  Trigger didn’t wait for an answer. He got behind the wheel of his Impala, the big engine roared to life, and he pulled away from the curb. I stood on the porch and kept staring after him, long after he’d gone.

  When I finally went back inside, I carefully arranged the daisies in a vase and cleaned up after myself around the kitchen. I then picked up the bear and the flowers and took them with me to my room. After the stuffed animal was returned to his chair beside the desk, I put the flowers on my nightstand and curled up on my side, hugging a pillow to my chest.

  As I stared at those pristine white flowers, I replayed what I’d seen that day in its new context and realized he could be telling the truth. There was love and an undeniable bond between him and that woman, but there hadn’t actually been anything romantic about it, not even a little. It was definitely the kind of connection twins might have. I’d jumped to conclusions, and yes, I’d assumed the worst of him.

  What if I was wrong about everything else, too?

  Chapter Four

  I ended up sleeping in the next morning, since it had been almost daybreak before I managed to fall asleep. I kept replaying everything I thought I knew about Trigger over and over throughout the night, including every race I’d ever seen him run, and especially the one where I crashed. I’d been so sure I knew what happened, but the more I scrutinized it, the blurrier everything became.

  When I finally went downstairs, Nana was on the warpath. “What’s wrong?” I asked when I found her pacing and muttering to herself in the living room.

  “I’ve had it with that asshole neighbor across the street,” she said. “First he stole the gay pride flag from the front of my house, and now this!”

  “What did he do?”

  “He took that pretty balloon arch off my porch!”

  “Are you sure it was him?”

  “Well, who else would do it? When Ollie dropped me off this morning and I noticed it was gone, I looked across the street, and there was Humpington in his driveway with a smug grin on his face.”

  “I think his name’s Huntington.”

  “Details,” Nana said. “I went over there and asked him point blank if he’d taken the balloons, and he told me I should be glad he didn’t report my penis decorations for public indecency. Then he told me to show some class! Can you believe the nerve of that steaming turd of a monkey humper? Tellin’ me to show some class!”

  “So, he didn’t admit to taking them.”

  “No, but I’m sure he did, and as soon as he leaves, I’m gonna go over there and get some evidence! You’ll help me, right, Jessie?”

  “Of course. Let’s try not to get arrested for breaking and entering, though. They might not let you out in time for your June wedding.”

  “Don’t worry, we won’t get caught.”

  I asked her, “Do we need backup? Should we call Dante? And where’s Ollie?”

  “Dante is a stick in the mud, he’ll just try to stop us. My sweetie will be back soon though, so he can help. He’s at an appointment at Christopher Robin’s art gallery to work out some details for that upcoming n
ew artists showcase, the one with his painter friend Ignacio Mondelvano. They’re including a couple of Skye’s sculptures too. Since his pieces are huge, they rented a warehouse for the show.”

  “Sounds like they’re going all out.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. Christopher Robin had the brilliant idea to turn the whole thing into a fundraiser and make use of that large space. He started a scholarship program for LGBT youth in the arts, so he thought it’d be fun to host a cross between a masquerade ball and a costume party so he can sell tickets and raise money. There’s one part of the show he needs your help with, though.”

  “Sure, anything,” I said.

  “Your friend Chance is a stubborn one. He’s a brilliant photographer, and this could be his big break since it’s going to draw a lot of media attention. But because his husband and Christopher Robin’s are cousins, he refuses to let Christopher show his pictures in his gallery. Chance keeps calling it nepotism and says Christopher wouldn’t be interested in his photos if he wasn’t family. Could you talk to him? Maybe he’ll listen to you and agree to be a part of this show.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Nana grinned and patted my arm. “I knew I could count on you.”

  We talked about the masquerade ball for a few more minutes, until Ollie got home and agreed to act as lookout. “We just gotta get in his backyard and check Humpington’s trash can,” Nana said. “I bet you anything my property is in there!”

  Ollie (and the two dogs) lined up in Nana’s front yard to watch for Huntington’s return, and she and I circled around to the alley behind her neighbor’s house. His back gate was locked, of course. I told Nana I’d hop the fence and check the trash, but she wasn’t really the type of person to just wait on the sidelines. She slipped her stockinged feet out of her low-heeled pumps and said, “I’m going in. Give me a boost.”

  I knew better than to try to talk her out of it, so I laced my fingers together and she stepped into them and tried to pull herself up. That wasn’t entirely successful, so she ended up climbing onto my shoulders, and then hoisted herself up and over the top of the seven-foot-tall iron fence. The fact that she was doing all of that in a Chanel suit actually proved to be her saving grace, because when she toppled over the other side of the fence, her skirt caught on one of the metal pickets and kept her from hitting the ground.

  It also meant she was hanging there like a piñata, and I quickly scrambled over the fence so I could help her down. “Well, shit! I’m caught like a fish on a hook,” Nana exclaimed. Just a moment after I got underneath her, the skirt tore completely in half, but I managed to catch her before she hit the ground. “Next time, we’re bringing a ladder,” she said as I put her down.

  The skirt was still hanging on the top of the fence, and when I realized she was wearing a skimpy red thong under her pantyhose, I blushed and quickly looked away. She noticed my reaction and said, “Don’t worry, everything’s covered that’s supposed to be.” Um, yes and no. She hurried over to the garbage can, and when she raised the lid, Nana yelled, “Aha!” She reached in and pulled out a big handful of the deflated balloon arch. “Damn, look at all those limp dicks.” She held up a shriveled penis balloon by the tip and shook her head. “They were all so perky, too! And now it looks like a hundred old guys went skinny dipping in January.” Nana shuddered and dropped the balloons back into the can.

  My phone beeped, and I checked the text message and told her, “Ollie says Huntington is pulling into his driveway. We have to go.”

  “I have half a mind to march up to Humpington and kick him in his dingle berries,” Nana huffed. “Who does he think he is, stealing my personal property from the front of my house?”

  “You have the evidence, so you could report it to the police,” I said. “For now though, since we’re actually trespassing, we need to go. Otherwise he’ll be the one pressing charges.”

  Getting over the fence was even more graceless than it had been the first time. I gave Nana a boost onto the lid of the trash can, then hurried over the fence and tried to help her down. She used the same technique and tried to fling herself over the metal pickets, which produced the same result. Her jacket caught and tore, and Nana cursed like a sailor. “I really liked that suit,” she huffed. “I’m adding that to Humpington’s shit list.” Nana unbuttoned the jacket and basically fell out of it into my arms. She’d been wearing a red satin bustier under the jacket, and I put her down quickly as my cheeks ignited.

  While she put her shoes on, I climbed back up and freed the skirt and jacket from the fence. But when I tried to hand them to her, she said, “Those are no good to me now. My tailor won’t be able to salvage them, not the way they tore through the fabric.” She took off down the alley, working that thong, bustier and pantyhose, and I hurried after her.

  The outfit covered as much as most bathing suits, but she still turned the head of every neighbor she encountered as we emerged from the alley and circled around to the street. Huntington was still out front, engaged in some sort of heated debate with Ollie, who apparently had been stalling for time. Both men stopped and stared when Nana came into view, and Ollie called, “Hubba hubba! You’re a vision, hot stuff!”

  The neighbor had a much different reaction, and turned red as he exclaimed, “Have you no shame, woman?”

  “I must’ve left my shame in my other thong,” Nana told Huntington, holding her head high. “And don’t you be filing this away in your spank bank, you old pervert! You’re not man enough for a woman like me!” The neighbor turned red and sputtered indignantly, and Nana added, “By the way, I know what you did, and you fucked with the wrong broad. Payback’s a bitch, Humpington!”

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

  “Oh, I think you do.” She linked arms with Ollie and they marched up to her house as the dogs and I led the way. When Nana reached the top stair, she looked back over her shoulder at the neighbor and slapped her rear a couple times before going inside.

  Nana said, “If Humpington got his shorts in a bunch over a couple harmless little dicks in a balloon display, just wait. He’s about to have cocks up the ass!”

  Nana, Ollie and I spent the next hour making plans and calling in reinforcements, and Cockstock was born.

  *****

  “Are you seriously getting paid for this?” Zachary asked as he dropped into the lounge chair beside mine and I handed him a big, pink, dick-shaped water bottle. It was the following Saturday afternoon, and I’d spent the better part of the week at Cockstock. I’d been appointed supervisor, since Nana and Ollie were busy planning the wedding and helping Christopher Robin put together his masquerade ball/new artists show.

  “Basically. I’ve always been salaried, with the understanding that I help out where needed. This week, I’m needed in Peen Paradise.”

  “Where exactly did you find that shirt?”

  I was wearing a yellow t-shirt that said, ‘Got Cock?’ but he was probably referring to the Hawaiian shirt I wore over it, which was bright red with a repeating pattern of smiling, cartoon cocks wearing leis and dancing the hula. “At a shop in the Castro. Almost everything they carry is penis-themed. Mr. Mario and I cleaned out half their inventory.”

  Zachary took a sip of the cocktail in the water bottle and said, “This is good. What is it?”

  “Peen-a Colada.” I grinned at him when he shot me a look and said, “Once the dick theme was established, Nana ran with it.”

  “I can see that.” The front yard was designed to drive Nana’s homophobic, dick-hating neighbor completely batty. Every balloon penis pillar from Valentine’s Day graced the yard (they were holding up fairly well, though a couple looked like they could use a shot of Viagra). Strands of colorful penis lights hung from the palm trees, and dozens of rainbow-colored dildos were lined up all along the top of the waist-high wrought iron fence which fronted the lawn. The piece de resistance though was the ‘fucking bronco’. Nana had found a mechani
cal bull shaped like a great, big penis at a party rental shop, and had it placed front and center in the yard.

  To make sure nobody tampered with the display (or dicksplay, as we’d taken to calling it), she’d also hired every out-of-work go-go boy in the city to dance in the yard in ten-man shifts around the clock, both to add to the festivities and to keep an eye on things. Nana had told them they could wear whatever they wanted, but the vast majority had opted for the go-go boy uniform of sexy briefs in various styles and colors. They all seemed enthusiastic about the gig, not just because Nana was paying them generously, feeding them, and keeping the booze flowing, but because it was a damn good time.

  The neighbor was continually red-faced and on the verge of blowing like Krakatoa every time he set foot outside. He’d thought of a dozen different reasons to call the cops on us over the course of the week, but we weren’t breaking any laws. The music was kept down to make sure we weren’t violating the noise ordinance, and even though showing an actual dick in public was verboten, phallic objects were A-OK.

  When Zachary arrived, the fucking bronco was being ridden slowly and suggestively by two go-go boys who happened to be a couple. They were making out and putting on quite a show for the neighbor (and for the tourists who kept stopping by to take pictures). Five dancers were shaking their booties around the yard, and the rest were taking a break and flirting with each other while they cooled down with some dick-shaped popsicles. Nana had wholeheartedly embraced the theme, right down to the refreshments.