Edgar laughed.
“I have no idea,” he replied, truly amused. “We don't even know if my theory is correct so, before we dig up our entire lawn and garden, we'd better just hold off for awhile.”
“We could buy a metal detector,” suggested Jack, causing Edgar to nearly choke on the sip of wine in his mouth.
“You're too much,” laughed Edgar, wiping spilled wine from his chin.
A thought occurred to Edgar, however; given the fact that the theory was, for the moment, just a theory, and the fact that, armed with this knowledge, most people would react like Jack and their neighborhood would resemble a block of Swiss cheese in no time, Edgar thought it best to keep the theory of buried gold between him and Jack.
“For the time being,” he said. “If it seems important later then we can bring it up.”
“Okay,” agreed Jack. He stood up and began gathering the empty plates in front of them but Edgar grabbed him and pulled him to his lap, instead. Dining with Jack in their beautiful dining room suddenly filled Edgar with feelings of nostalgia, longing even. Maybe it was just the wine.
“What are you doing?” asked Jack. “I need to clean up.”
“Later,” said Edgar, kissing Jack's neck. “I missed you today.”
“I missed you, too,” replied Jack. He wrapped his arms around Edgar's neck and kissed him on the lips.
“I have something for you,” said Edgar.
“Something else?” asked Jack. “After the pillows and paper?”
He could feel the erection growing under his ass and realized that Edgar wasn't talking about anything he had bought in San Francisco. This, of course, caused Jack's cock to swell too.
“Take your clothes off,” instructed Edgar.
Jack kissed Edgar one more time and then arose, quickly pulling his Polo shirt over his head and tossing it aside. He then began to slowly unbutton his jeans, which he tossed onto his empty chair. Stripped down to his white briefs, his boner was obvious as it peeked out the side of his underwear.
“Take off your shorts,” said Edgar.
“What about you?”
“Your underwear,” repeated Edgar, “take them off.”
Jack peeled off the tight briefs and tossed them to Edgar, who sniffed them before tossing them onto the floor.
“Get on the table,” instructed Edgar. He patted the spot in front of his chair and moved back a couple of feet to accommodate Jack. Jack dutifully climbed onto the table in front of his partner, his legs dangling over the edge. A shiny, clear glob of pre-come had already pooled on the head of Jack's stiff, uncut dick and it glistened in the candlelight.
“Stroke it for me.”
Jack began to slowly caress his meat, his nuts splayed out on the dark wood beneath him. He fingered his nipples while he beat off, watching as his lover took in the show.
Edgar was as hard as a slab of marble and pulled his own swollen dick from the fly of his slacks, tugging at it gently as he enjoyed his private peep show.
“Put your feet on the table,” instructed Edgar, “let me see your hole.”
Again, Jack complied, leaning back on one elbow, his asshole now visible to Edgar beneath his quickly contracting balls.
Edgar reached over and captured the wad of pre-come on his index finger, which he placed in Jack's mouth.
“Tastes good, doesn't it?”
Jack nodded as he sucked his juice off of Edgar's finger, his body tingling with anticipation.
“Finger your hole for me,” said Edgar.
Jack moistened his fingers in his mouth and then worked one into his ass. The sensation was dizzying, and he stroked his meat slowly, tentatively, not wanting to get off too quickly.
Suddenly, Edgar arose from his seat and pulled Jack toward him by his ankles all the way to the edge of the table. Edgar spit on the end of his erect cock and, in one fluid motion, pushed the head into Jack's asshole as he slid him down the table.
“Ahhh. . .” Jack groaned.
Edgar pushed, thrusting his hips and, suddenly, he was in, filling up Jack's ass.
“Shit,” hissed Jack, his body tingling, his nipples erect and pink.
Edgar fucked Jack, sliding his meat in and out of the tight hole, causing the table to creak beneath them. Finally, Jack could take no more.
“Use me, Eddy,” he said, his asshole tightening its grip on Edgar's cock. “Fuck. . . fuck!”
The first shot cleared Jack's head and landed on the table above him. The second shot hit him in the face and on his chest. As his body convulsed, continuing to suck Edgar's cock, Edgar grasped Jack's upraised ankles and bore deep into him, unleashing a throbbing load.
“Shit,” he rasped.
Not quite finished with his game of peep show voyeur, Edgar pulled his cock out, stuffed it back into his slacks and pulled a twenty out of his pocket, which he tossed onto Jack's naked a sullied body.
“Thanks,” he said, winking.
Jack laughed until he saw the make believe tip.
“Twenty dollars?” he wailed. “All that was worth was twenty dollars?”
“Sorry,” joked Edgar. “That's all I have.”
“Fine,” said Jack, rising from the table, “I'm keeping it, and you still have to do the dishes!”
Edgar playfully slapped Jack's naked ass as he passed.
* * * *
The next morning Edgar was awakened by the sound of the phone ringing. Jack was still asleep next to him and he quickly grabbed the receiver, not wanting to wake him.
“Hello?”
“Edgar?” asked a familiar voice. “It's Ben. . . Ben Wilson from the Chronicle.”
Edgar rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed, trying to keep his voice low.
“Ben,” he said. “It's been a long time. How are you? How's the family?”
“Great,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this, but I'm in a bit of a pinch.”
“What's up?” asked Edgar.
Jack stirred beside him and so Edgar got up and took the phone into his office next door.
“Well,” explained Ben, “I've been assigned overseas and so Lois and I will be leaving within a week.”
“That's great news,” replied Edgar. “London?”
“Yes,” said Ben. “Lois is thrilled. The only thing is, we need to find someone to lease our house while we're gone. . . hell, maybe even buy it if we end up staying there, and I'm trying to find someone I trust.”
Edgar felt his heart skip a beat. Was this a sign that they were supposed to move back to San Francisco?
“We own a house here in Wonderland. . .”
“I know that,” replied Ben. “I was hoping that maybe you knew of someone looking for a house. We're in such a rush. . . I don't want to rent to just anyone.”
“Well,” said Edgar, weighing his words carefully, “the fact is, we've been considering moving back to the city.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Ben?”
“I'm here,” he replied. “You don't know how that makes me feel! I mean, would you consider looking at it? It might be short-term, like I said. We'd have to work all of that out.”
“Are you still on Telegraph Hill?” asked Edgar, his heart pounding.
“Yeah,” replied Ben. “Same house for the last ten years.”
“I could talk to Jack,” said Edgar. “Maybe we could come up and look around this afternoon, if that works for you?”
“Sounds great,” replied Ben. “Lois is going to be so happy.”
“Let's say one?”
“See you then.”
Edgar ended the call and looked out the window into the back yard. Was it really possible that this had just fallen into their laps? Not only was it in San Francisco, but in North Beach, Edgar's favorite neighborhood. He nearly skipped on the way to the bathroom to shower. Now all he had to do was find a delicate way to approach Jack.
* * * *
It had
proven easier than Edgar had initially feared to convince Jack to drive to San Francisco, not that Edgar had been completely honest with his partner. Instead of admitting that he had shown interest in renting the house, Edgar had suggested that his old friend from the paper had merely suggested their help in staging the house for prospective renters. Jack, a sucker for decorating, had fallen for the ruse. The traffic into San Francisco was light and the weather once again agreeable. This morning, however, Edgar was in more of a hurry, as if the house on Telegraph Hill might vanish if he didn't get there quickly, so he decided to circumvent city streets for the highway, exiting downtown and heading straight to North Beach.
Since it was early, the couple decided to have breakfast. Edgar parked the car on Green Street and the two men walked the two blocks down to Columbus, where they went to a cafe and ordered coffee and pastries.
Seated at a sidewalk table, the city bustling around them, Edgar smiled at Jack.
“This is nice,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.
Jack smiled back and took a sip of his own coffee.
“It is,” he agreed. “We really don't visit the city enough.”
Edgar considered his next words carefully. Should this be his cue to jump into the whole “we should move back” spiel or was Jack telling him, in not so many words, that visiting was all he was interested in doing? Thankfully, he was spared having to say anything by the ringing of his cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Edgar, it's Miller.”
“Miller,” replied Edgar, glancing at Jack. “How are you?”
“Let's cut the chitchat,” he said, sounding unusually gruff. “I have some information for you. . . when can we meet?”
“I'm in the city,” replied Edgar, “in North Beach, in fact. Name a time and place.”
“Meet me at the corner of Columbus and Broadway in half an hour,” he said.
Then, without preamble, he hung up.
Edgar put his phone away and looked at Jack.
“Miller has some information for me,” he said. “He wants to meet in half an hour, just down the street.”
Jack nodded.
“Did he say what it was?”
“No,” replied Edgar, “but he sounded pissed off.”
“Will there be time to go to Ben and Lois’ house?”
“I imagine,” replied Edgar.
The two men finished their coffee and pastries in silence, each lost in thought. Finally, Edgar looked at his watch and stood.
“I'd better head that way,” he said. “I'll meet you back here in twenty minutes?”
“I'm going to peek in a few shops,” replied Jack. “Call my cell phone when you're headed this way.”
Edgar turned and began making his way to the rendezvous spot, his thoughts an emotional rollercoaster. On one hand he might be getting the information to save Eldon Court but, on the other, it might mean losing the house on Telegraph Hill. As he neared the corner, Edgar saw Miller and the reason for his grouchiness. . . a black eye.
“Edgar,” Miller said.
“What the hell happened to you?” asked Edgar.
“Let's just say that it's a workplace hazard in my business,” he replied. “And I told you that Converse was a mean cocksucker.”
“Converse didn't do that?” asked Edgar.
“Hell, no,” laughed Miller. “I could take that little prick by myself. . . a couple of his goons did it.”
“I'm sorry. . .”
“Don't be,” replied Miller. “I went poking around regarding Mr. St. John, and found something interesting.”
“Such as?”
“His dear mama is none other than Rose Emerson St. John.”
“The actress?” asked Edgar.
“Actress” was perhaps a misuse of the word. Rose Emerson St. John hadn't acted in years and the movies she did make back in the day were hardly Oscar-worthy. Edgar pressed Miller for more information.
“You're sure she's his mother?” he asked. “How did you find this out?”
Miller looked almost offended by the question and so Edgar talked over it.
“What do we need to do now?” he asked.
“Here's her number,” replied Miller, passing a piece of paper to Edgar.
Edgar looked at the number. It had a southern California area code.
“Should we call her?” he asked. What was he supposed to say? Hello Ms. St. John, your movies were awful and we want your help tricking your son?
“She's expecting you to call,” said Miller.
Edgar was perplexed but, before he could ask another question, Miller spoke again.
“My bill will be in the mail,” he said, walking away. “You're welcome.”
As he disappeared in the crowd, Edgar felt more confused by the minute. He started to call Jack but realized that the house on the hill would have to wait. Reluctantly, he dialed Ben.
“Ben,” he said, “I'm sorry. . . we're going to need to re-schedule. I know, I'm sorry. . . something unforeseen came up. That sounds good. . . my best to Lois.”
He ended the call and then dialed Jack's cell phone.
“I'm headed that way,” he said. “I've got some really strange news.”
* * * *
Miller hadn't been pulling his chain; not only had Rose Emerson St. John been expecting his call, but she seemed eager to meet with him, explaining that she would be in the area the following day.
“I'm certain that we can remedy the situation,” she had said cryptically.
Despite his absolute dislike for her son, Parker, Jack was acting downright giddy at the prospect of meeting the infamous Rose Emerson St. John. The morning of her visit he changed shirts three times and insisted on flowers in the entryway.
“Calm down,” said Edgar, still upset over the house in the city. “Have you forgotten who her son is?”
“No,” replied Jack, looking hurt. “But you have to be polite. She's a star.”
“Was a star,” corrected Edgar.
Jack was about to protest this statement, when he caught the unmistakable figure emerging from Number Two Eldon Court.
“Here she comes!” said Jack. “Now play nice,” he scolded Edgar, before opening the door.
As Jack rushed out to greet their guest, Edgar looked next door to see that Rich had returned from the hospital.
Great, he thought, just what the neighbors need to see.
What next?
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Part Three
“Where the Bodies Are Buried”
By Adam Carpenter
* * * *
“What the hell is going on in this neighborhood?”
It was a question he spoke aloud, but his voice sounded foreign to him as it bounced against quiet walls. He had not done much speaking lately, mostly because there was no one to converse with, no one with who to ask questions and receive back answers, no one to tell him he was loved.
But for the first time in more than a week, Paolo Bautista felt like talking to someone, but the trouble was he didn't know which of his neighbors he felt like approaching, whether he could trust them any longer. Certainly not Parker, the man of mixed motives and divided loyalties; Rich he felt conflicted about, given the way he'd tried to stop Aaron from pulling the trigger but had ended up atop him while the gun went off. And Marc. . . his friend who had seen him through Aaron's funeral, one of the worst days of his life. . . After his gallery opening had ended in disaster, there was no telling how he truly felt. As for Dane and Sawyer, they were once again AWOL, on a job or just drying their tears in some other location, considering Dane and Aaron had been brothers. So who did that leave? Jack and Edgar, Eldon Court's stalwarts, that's who. Until he saw what he saw. . . that woman coming to their home, the way they had invited her inside, that scene had left Paolo disturbed and further confused. Doubt had once again crept into his mind and wouldn't let go. Yes, Paolo had seen some odd things this past week on Eldon Court, and
normally he'd have been be in the thick of the drama, questioning, judging. . . perhaps participating. Not so, now, Paolo was just a passive participant, peering out through his curtains, a guest on his own street.
It was Sunday, normally a day when the neighbors of Eldon Court would all get together and have a few drinks out by the pool, accompanied by some laughs and some harmless flirting, sometimes a bit more than that. Like the pool parties they had shared this past summer, the first when he'd allowed the bear-like Rich North to screw him hard down on the beach, others when he'd sucked Parker St. John's hot rock of a cock in the same location. Both of these encounters, tinged with temporary satisfaction and lingering regret, he wished he could now take back. Had those sexy trysts been worth it when now he was faced with a life without the one and only man he'd ever truly loved, Aaron Walters?
Paolo would forever miss the once-lighted-hearted Aaron, his smile, the way he took life one day at a time. Right now, after a time of solitude Paolo had forced upon himself, he had to figure out what the next stage of his life would bring, and whether Eldon Court, still under siege from Danvers Converse, was a part of it. Had his losses been worth it, challenging a man of such power and wealth and depravity, a man bent on revenge? Their Victorian home on Eldon Court was just that, a home, a building, replaceable. Aaron had been a man, once a vital, happy one, until Converse had threatened to ruin him. And succeeded.
But Paolo wasn't like Danvers Converse, revenge wasn't something he wished to exact. Truthfully, he was tired of all the intrigue and drama. So what then did he want? Unlike Aaron, Paolo always wondered what tomorrow would bring, and right now, on this picture-perfect day, he realized to get to tomorrow you had to embrace today. Taking the first step toward whatever the future held required Paolo to journey outdoors.
And so he did, opening up his black and white world, into one of vibrant, rich color, just like Dorothy had done after landing in Oz following a powerful storm that turned her life upside down. But that's where the comparisons ended; Paolo wasn't so sure about clicking his heels three times, home didn't seem like such a place he wanted to be.
* * * *
The bright sunshine nearly blinded him, and for a moment he felt like he was under attack. He could hear the loud squaw of a flock of seagulls as they flew through the sky, circling over the nearby beach and the crashing of waves from the Pacific; their sounds were deafening to him, so used to the quiet was he. But Paolo didn't retreat back inside, he took that next step, and that next, allowing Eldon Court to open up to him. He stole an apprehensive look back at his own house, watching as the door eased shut, almost as though someone was inside and pushing him beyond his limits. No, he was all alone, and, as he gazed forward, the overwhelming sense of loneliness pulled at him. There was no one around; the street was all quiet on this morning.
Desperate Enemies 3 Page 7
