This was the first book I’d ever sold. It blew me away, it had been for a possible anthology, but I was the only one who’d submitted a story for the prompt, so they decided to release it as a novella. I thank Laura Baumbach, and Kris Jacen for giving me the chance. And for Neil Plakcy for telling me they need to kiss sooner.
Hawaiian Trunks
Two white-haired men in matching blue Hawaiian shirts held hands and looked over at the minister, who wasn’t wearing much, just his flip-flops and blue-and-green plaid shorts. None of the men gathered around them were dressed in any particular fashion beyond “beach.” It was as if the couple said, “Hey, let’s get married today,” and everyone showed up, not realizing there was a wedding.
In my black jeans and white button-down shirt, I felt a little overdressed. But it was what they had asked me to wear–I was the best man, after all.
The sun set behind them, bathing the horizon in gold-tinged pink. On the water floated a thousand glowing lanterns as Colin began to speak.
“I honor you, I love you, and I give you my all. As thousands of boats float out to sea, sent out from the hands of loved ones whose memories are of a rich life lived, so too do I hope that our love goes on to be shared with others. On this day, we not only unite in front of our friends before us, but the souls of the remembered behind us.”
I raised a hand to cover a small smile. Of course Colin’s vows were poetic; he was a writer. Clay, on the other hand... well, a librarian does not a poet make.
Clay took a deep breath of the salted air. “I am honored to still be sharing my life with you. Times have been tough, times have been hilarious, times have been filled, and I look forward to all that the next fifty years has to bring us.”
Well, it wasn’t poetry, but it was obvious he meant it as much as Colin had.
They turned to the minister, who wiped a tear from his eye. “Do you men, you lovers, you best friends, take one another to be wed for life? To have and hold, to be and do, to respect each other, to be there when your final hours arrive? Will you tend to each other when sick and when well? Will you agree to disagree when it will make all of us happier?”
At the last question, the entire enclave erupted in applause and laughter. The two of them glared at me—it had always been a joke for the three of us—before saying together, loudly and proudly, “Yes!”
“Then you are wed, you are joined, and you are complete. You may kiss.” The minister held his arms open, grinning.
Clay and Colin embraced strongly and kissed gently. It was one of the sweetest, most tender kisses I had ever seen them give each other.
They refused to let go of each other’s hands as the minister turned them to face the small crowd. “Gentlemen and... gentlemen, I present Mr. Colin Short and Mr. Clay Singer!”
A cheer erupted from the crowd as Colin snagged another kiss from his husband and the two of them headed to the dance floor. As their feet struck the polished wood, the band we’d hired struck an upbeat, jazzy version of Train’s “Marry Me,” and still clapping and applauding, the guests followed them to the floor.
Then food was being served, drinks were flowing freely, laughter and music filled the air, and I realized I was standing alone. For the first time in five years, it wouldn’t be “we,” but “they.” Oh, they would still want me around, but things would be different now.
§§ §
I walked down to the beach, at first just listening to the waves, the upbeat live music, and the happy sounds of people partying into the night.
If anyone had been watching me, they probably would have lost sight as the night darkened and I walked along the tideline. Tears I didn’t ask for startled me, and I blinked them away, but more showed up to replace them, and they brought friends. Eventually, I found myself sitting on a wet patch of sand, my head in my hands, my elbows on my knees. I’d never find anyone like them. I wasn’t going to find anyone here, either. There was the house in New Orleans to get back to, and my life was far away, in another world.
It was a fantasy here, with the pink and orange sunsets, swaying palm trees, and blue water everywhere. Soon, reality would set in. The three of us only had another week here and then we’d be heading home.
But “we” wasn’t “we” anymore. Would “home” still be “home?” Colin, Clay and I had planned this whole wedding, but we had never planned for “after.”
It was Saturday; the rest of the gang was leaving on Monday afternoon. We all had plans, but did Clay and Colin’s include me anymore?
It wasn’t until the music changed that I realized they might notice if I wasn’t there. I made my way back to the party and the live band was gone. In its place, the DJ played current dance hits and old standards.
Brushing sharp sand from my ass I waited in line for a drink, which, after that little jaunt down to the shoreline, I felt I was entitled to. Blinking my eyes, which were swollen from that crying jag, I noticed the bald head behind the bar. At first it was just something to distract me from Clay and Colin dancing a slow dance, with eyes only for each other. Behind all the people, I couldn’t really get a good look at him, but it was something to watch. The line moved quickly; he had to be one of the faster bartenders on the islands.
I was the last person in line, and I didn’t recognize the people in front of me. They blocked my view and they took forever, with cherries and straws and all kinds of bullshit. So when it was finally my turn, I was not prepared for the man behind the wood.
I was fumbling in my wallet for a dollar tip as the people in front of me walked away. When I looked up, ready to order my usual drink, I found myself struck dumb.
The bartender’s beautiful gray eyes sucked away all conscious thought. His black goatee etched itself perfectly to his face. He said something, and I heard an accent, but I couldn’t place it. He wasn’t Hawaiian. He was a big bear of a man, with a smooth head, thick muscular arms that made his white polo shirt burst at the edges, and the snake of a tribal tattoo down his right arm.
He grinned and wiped off the bar top with a white towel. “I said, can I get you something?” He waved his hand in front of me, and I started.
Why hadn’t I been paying attention? The damn music was getting to me again. That’s all it was. “I, uh... I’d like... vanilla schnapps and soda,” I finally managed.
“Interesting! I don’t think I’ve made that before.” He looked through the small bar’s supply. “Sorry, sir. I don’t have any vanilla schnapps. I do have some vanilla vodka; how about I concoct something for you?”
He filled a highball glass with ice and a shot of vodka, letting the shot pour over the edge so it was more like a shot and a half. He pulled out the soda dispenser and placed a thumb on two buttons, squirting a mix of soda and 7-Up into the drink. With a flourish, he stirred it three times with a long green plastic stick and slid it across the small bar toward me.
“Hope you like it.” He grinned and winked.
I took a hesitant sip. “Oh!” I was surprised that it was delicious; vodka is not as sweet as schnapps. “I actually like this. Thank you.”
He grinned as if to say “you’re welcome,” and extended his hand. “I’m Wolff. You one of the grooms?”
I switched the drink to my other hand and realized that I’d been staring. “Wolf? Like the predator?” I smiled as we shook hands. “I’m Toby Lee, and no, just their best man.”
He grinned again. “No, Wolff,” he said, drawing the F sound out. “I’m not predatory at all. Just a man trying to make a living in an exotic locale.”
He said he wasn’t predatory, but his eyes said something different. They stripped me bare with one long look, and I wasn’t sure where this could lead.
I didn’t have time to consider it, though, because someone slapped me on the back, nearly making me drop the drink that
Wolff had worked so hard to create.
I looked apologetically at him and turned around to see Jake’s grinning face. “Toby Lee! We wondered where you were, b
oy.” His Southern drawl was especially thick, and a miasma of Jim Beam hung all around him.
I grinned, not sincerely, and considered throwing my drink at him. “I’m right here, and I’m fine.” I leaned in to whisper harshly, “Thanks for fucking up my moment with the hot bartender. Your timing could not be worse. Could you fuck off for a while, please?”
But even as I said it, I could see it was a lost cause. Wayne and Lyle were right behind him, and thanks to the open bar, both of them were very happily drunk. Like ants on an ice cream cone, they swarmed the bar and ordered drinks, slurring their words and making fools of themselves. After Wolff served them, they dragged me to a table across the dance floor from the bar.
At least I could still see him, sort of. I kept trying to see if the rest of his body was as defined as his chest, and after several long looks I determined I was not wrong. His tight black shorts ended at thick muscular legs, and I wondered where he was from.
§§ §
The night slipped away and I became the walker of the others, as usual. I walked Wayne and Lyle to their bungalow, mostly carrying Wayne. I poured him into bed with Lyle’s help. For his part, Lyle had been apologizing for about two hours. It only felt like it had been all night. “He never parties; you know that. This is just a stupid mistake. I won’t let this happen again.” He looked at Wayne and then back at me, his smile going green around the edges. “What if he pukes in the bed?”
“Then call me and I’ll help you. Lyle, it’s all right; no one has to know. It’ll be fine.”
I pulled the door shut, closing out Lyle’s worried face, and leaned my head against it for a minute. Was this going to be my life, managing everyone else’s? That’s not what I wanted. A headache thumped behind my eyes. Probably the vodka. Or
maybe it was the time. I’d been up since six, and it felt like jet lag all over again.
I turned and bumped into Jake, who slipped an arm around my shoulder. “Why didn’t we ever hook up, Toby Lee?” His friend Jim Beam was still along for the ride.
I shrugged him off. This shit I didn’t need. “I thought you were all Prescott, all the time.”
“He lets me play on the side,” Jake said, not seeming to notice my irritation. “We have a relationship much like Colin and Clay. I know you satisfy them. Care to satisfy me?”
If he had asked me any other time, I probably would have jumped at the chance. Jake was hot, ripped and reasonably well- hung. But right now, with this headache that wouldn’t quit, the memory of that almost-moment with Wolff still lingering in my mind, and the fresh reminder of Colin and Clay and what they were to each other, I realized my days of bed-hopping were over. I didn’t want that anymore. I wanted what Colin and Clay had.
To be honest, I wanted Colin and Clay.
I shook my head. “I appreciate the offer, buddy, but so much has changed for me today that I want our friendship to stay the way it was. Go make Prescott happy. Become the next Clay and Colin with him.”
“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.” Jake did a good job of hiding his embarrassment. If you didn’t know him as well as I did, you’d think the red face was just from being drunk. “Want to walk me back? My bungalow is on the other side.”
As we walked through the lanai, I spied Wolff closing up shop. I got Jake to his door and kissed him on the cheek. “Go to bed and sleep it off. I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning.”
Jake said, “Are we still on for Orchids, or is that me being drunk again?”
I grinned, not really meaning it. “Yeah, we’re still on. Get your ass to bed.”
Trust Jake to fuck things up for me twice in one night. It only took a few moments to get him to his bungalow, but when I got back to the lanai, I couldn’t find Wolff.
Well, it was wishful thinking; it seemed I’d never learn where that accent came from.
§§ §
Sunday brunch found us at Orchids, on the patio overlooking the ocean, a lazy cerulean blue with a wave curling in every now and again. The eight of us played “Top ‘Em,” ordering the most exquisite food. None of us were surprised that Colin and Clay were still in their bungalow. Like the good houseboy I still technically was, I’d made them Eggs Benedict, left it on their kitchen table, set it out with champagne, and left a note:
C&C,
Hope you got some sleep (wink). Take the Sunday alone, if you like. I’m hosting the gang for brunch and play today. If you want, you can meet us at Hula’s Bar & Lei Stand for drinks later tonight, but we’ll understand if you decide to stay home and be with each other.
I couldn’t figure out how to finish it, because writing “love” might send the wrong message now, and “sincerely” or “yours truly” sounded too formal, so I just signed it “Toby” and left it at that. But it put me in a bad mood as I joined everybody.
I ordered Eggs Benedict, realized why as I did it, and was glad that no one else knew what I had made for C&C. When the food came, I excused myself and headed to the bar. A drink would cheer me up, and even if it didn’t, it would put me back before the wedding, when things were better.
“A vanilla vodka with soda and 7-Up,” I said to the bartender’s uniformed back. My friends were laughing loud enough that I could hear them over the restaurant noise, and I turned to look at them while I waited for my drink. I think my friends have seen more gay action this week than this entire damn island has this year. I looked over my shoulder, but the bartender still had his back to me. I returned my gaze to my friends, not really seeing them.
“Funny, I made this drink last night.” I heard the accent and whirled around, not believing my luck could be this good.
But it was. He stood there, my drink in his hand. At the same time, we laughed and said, “Oh! It’s you.”
This morning Wolff was dressed in a blue cotton newsboy’s cap and matching button-down shirt, covering the bald head and the sexy tattoo that I’d spied the night before. “You’re a bartender here, too?” I said, not knowing what else to say. I mean, “I dreamed about fucking you all night” seemed a little over the top.
“Well, it’s pretty expensive to live on the island.” He smiled, and looked at the bar awkwardly. “Most people I know work three or four jobs just to live in paradise.”
I nodded. “I totally understand.” I turned to look at the ocean waves washing the beach. “It’s beautiful, that’s for sure. How much?”
“Usually, six bucks. For you, three.” He smiled and I thought I saw him wink. His badge said Jerome.
“Thank you, Wolff. I’ll see you around.” I smiled, dropped a ten on the bar, and walked back to the laughing table.
§§ §
Getting to Hula’s Bar & Lei Stand that night was like herding cats. Wayne, apparently completely recovered from his colossal drunk the night before, made jokes about “getting lei’d standing up.” In revenge, we all took turns punching him as we walked through the hotel to the elevator. “Prescott told me this is the best gay bar in town. The views are amazing and the drinks are great,” Jake enthused. “He also said that if the Regal Beagle from Three’s Company were gay, this would be the place.”
I shook my head and sighed. I could see that another exciting night of walking everybody back to their rooms lay ahead of me.
We took the elevator to the bar on the second floor and the party was in full swing. Music pounded, drinks flowed fast, and go-go dancers in neon Hawaiian trunks and leis topped every available flat space. At least the ads weren’t lying when they said the view was awesome. Tonight the sunset left a purple tinge in the western sky.
I took drink orders on my phone and stood at the bar waiting my turn. In the dark of the club, I just gave my orders to the bar- back who wrote them down and slid them to the bartender... who had a familiar shape. I couldn’t believe it. I sent a text to Lyle:
Get over here and help me with the drinks, would you?
But instead of Lyle coming over to help me, Jake appeared, like the bad penny that always turns up. “Oh
sweetie, couldn’t you carry four drinks?” He put his arm around my neck and kissed my earlobe. That was the moment Wolff set down his vanilla vodka concoction in front of me.
“I was thinking this drink had to be you. Good to see you in yet another place.”
“Great to see you again, Sir.” I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the leather cop’s uniform he was sporting. His arms bulged out of the sleeves, the leather was taut over his body, the belt harness snug over his chest. I wanted to pull that buckle off. My heart skipped a beat as I saw the tight pants that obviously held a solid cock in place. “Yeah, you’re everywhere I seem to be lately. It’s like...”
Wolff looked at me expectantly as I paused.
“...like it’s kismet,” I laughed. Then Jake squeezed my ass as he pulled me sharply away from the bar.
“Kismet? What are you, sixty?” Jake laughed as we set the drinks on the table. He’d ended up taking the other three drinks as I swirled the Day-Glo pink plastic stick in mine.
I’d seen Wolff in his element, and I was a little dazed. It’s a pretty good bet that the guy is gay or at least gay friendly. I mean, what straight man wears... “I’m not sixty,” I retorted. “Kismet is a real thing. It means fate, destiny.” Oh, I wanted to believe that he was my destiny. God, if only for the time I was here in Hawaii; I wasn’t asking for anything else.
“A bartender is not destiny. Fate, I can believe, because you
live such a fateful life. You are so much better than bartender destiny.” Jake pulled me onto the couch that lined the wall.
“It’s called a vacation, Jake. Destiny happens in paradise. I’m not asking for destiny like Colin and Clay; I’m just looking for some fun with someone who I won’t run into again.”
In His Arms Page 11
