by P. A. Brown
“Chris and I used to come here a lot when we were at UCLA. We weren’t much more than kids I guess, though we thought we were pretty sophisticated. He won me a tiger once, gave it to me right here,” Des glanced around the milling crowds of couples and kids. “Didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. Just handed me this big black and orange thing with this shit eating grin on his face.” He shook his hairless head at the memory. “I tried to win one back so we’d be even, but I couldn’t win jack. You want some cotton candy?”
It was on the tip of David’s tongue to say he didn’t really like the stuff then he looked down into Des’s open face and saw his broad smile and acquiesced with a grin. “Sure.”
Des bounced over to the nearest vendor and returned minutes later with two cones covered with pink and blue spun sugar clouds. David took the blue one and bit off a mouthful, which instantly dissolved into a sticky mass of crystals on his tongue.
“What was he like?” David asked softly, almost to himself.
Des didn’t need to ask who. He smiled and stuffed a finger full of cotton candy in his mouth. “He was always up for an adventure. He wanted to ‘try’ life, he said. He dragged me out to go sky diving once, I almost shit my pants. Another time we had to go to Australia and try reef diving, because he heard the best diving was there. He dragged us out of school for a long weekend at the balloon fiesta in Albuquerque and hooked us up with someone in the mass ascent on opening day. But he never let his grades slip. The guy was a genius—even when he didn’t try, he aced a 3.0 grade point average. When he put his mind to it he always got a 4.0. It was always easy for him.”
“Even being gay?” It had taken David years to even be able to say that word. It had taken him nearly as long to come to terms with the fact that he was part of that disenfranchised group. It had always seemed like a ridiculously frivolous word for such a life changing thing. But it was a word he’d learned to embrace since it gave him a freedom he’d never had before. A freedom just to be himself.
“Even that,” Des said. “He told me once he knew he was gay in junior high. He claimed he was really nerdy back then, told me he looked like ‘the dog’s breakfast’ which I never believed, but he insisted. I guess he got seduced by some jock in the locker room after a big football game and always said he knew what that made him. But he had a supportive family and when he finally came out to them in senior high there were no fireworks. What about you, what was it like?”
“I knew young, but I didn’t want it to be true, so I pretended it wasn’t. But there was this sergeant at the academy... he showed me what it could be like. Of course back then if you came out on the job you were committing career suicide so we all learned to keep our mouths shut.”
“That’s got to be hard. I always had it pretty easy. Hell any one who knows anything about fashion assumes we’re gay even if we’re not. Hooray for stereotypes, right? No one cares. Right wing god jockeys don’t tend to buy what I’m selling anyway. Your parents... do they...?”
“They know,” David said stiffly, thinking of his rigid, New England born and bred mother and her Puritan sensibilities and morals. “They made no bones about not liking it. At least my mother did. My stepfather’s less... judgmental.”
Des’s smile turned coy. “I’ll bet you never thought you’d fall in love with someone like Chris, did you?”
“The truth? No. What have we got in common? I mean, look at me.”
“You’re sexier than you think. Chris sure thinks so.”
“He said that?”
“No, but then for the first time Chris wouldn’t talk much about that at all. Usually he’d dish all his dates.
I expected it. But with you,” he shrugged. “He wouldn’t talk.”
David was amused and slightly alarmed at the notion of Chris talking him up to Des. But what did he expect? The two had been best friends for most of their lives and had shared so many things, good and bad. Of course Des would want to know all about the men in Chris’s life.
That raised a chilling specter. “What about now,” he said. “Does Chris still tell you all the ‘dish’?”
Des suddenly looked away, his stance growing rigid. David’s heart stopped beating.
“What does he tell you, Des?”
“I can’t do that David. I can’t tell stories out of school anymore.”
“You mean you can’t, or you won’t?”
“Won’t and don’t ask me. It’s not fair to Chris or me. I stood behind you guys all the way. I still think you belong together, but you’re not sure, are you? So whatever Chris does is his business, however ill-guided it is.”
All too true, David thought bitterly. He’d given up his right to criticize Chris’s lifestyle choices when he walked away from their relationship. The reasons behind his walk were still valid, but he had to wonder if he’d been too hasty in giving up. Maybe they could work things out, if they both wanted to.
“Does he ever talk about me?”
“Does he think about you, you mean? He does.” Des blinked and stared out over the park to the sunlit sea beyond. “I’ve seen him cry, you know,” he whispered. “If that’s what you want to hear. He misses you more than he could ever admit, but he’s too damn stubborn to come to you, with his hat in his hands.
Too prideful.”
He was hardly the only one. He could be stubborn too. Chris would have said pig-headed.
Finishing up his cotton candy he dumped the sticky paper cone into an overflowing garbage receptacle and strolled towards the pier that extended out into the ocean. The sun was moving around to begins its western descent. Sails dotted the horizon and further out a large tanker moved south, toward San Diego.
Des leaned on the rail and gazed down at the foamy, roiling waves that pounded against the pylons underpinning the pier. At low tide David knew lovers often took advantage of the privacy the pier afforded. So, unfortunately did dealers and others who preyed on them.
From where he stood David couldn’t see anyone down on the sand. He put his back to the ocean and faced Des who was still nibbling on his candy floss. Behind them the sounds of revelry rose and fell like a tide of noise. They continued moving down the pier, toward the Mariasol Cocina Mexicana restaurant.
“Do you really think we have a hope in hell of making it work?” David asked softly, half afraid of the answer, but needing to know.
Des turned to face him squarely. “I think that’s up to you and him.”
Not much of an answer. But then what did he expect, a magic fix? It was going to be work, for both of them. Was he up to it? Was Chris?
What was the alternative?
He sighed and tipped his head sideways, avoiding Des’s knowing look. But Des would have none of it.
He stepped closer, forcing David’s face around.
“Do you love him?”
“What? Yes, of course. I always did—”
“That’s your answer then, isn’t it?”
And in the end it was as simple as that.
David did something then he’d never done before, even with Chris. He drew Des into his arms and hugged him, not caring a whit who saw him or what they thought. Then he leaned down and kissed Des on the mouth.
Des stood frozen, his hands on David’s arms. He blinked up at David then a broad smile broke over his face.
“I dare you to do that again.”
David looked around and flushed when he realized they were surrounded by people. But he gamely tightened his grip on Des’s shoulders and kissed him again. They separated and Des gestured toward the Mariasol. “Buy you a drink?”
“I better not. But let me take a raincheck.”
Des nodded. “Okay. When you have some good news to tell me. We’ll come back then.”
Wednesday, 5 pm, Piedmont Avenue, Glendale
David started dressing early for his eight o’clock date. He took a long shower and scrubbed all over, enjoying the freedom from his bandages and stitches. He looked at the three inch scar on his b
elly, realizing that it would never completely fade and would always be a reminder of his encounter with Bitterman.
He spent an inordinate amount of time picking out what he was going to wear. Until Chris he’d owned one suit outside of the LAPD uniform he wore for formal events like police funerals. Chris had insisted that change. He had gifted David with three suits, all from Des’s Beverly Hills boutique. He looked them over then chose the gray Amalfi, pairing it with a pale rose shirt and dark gray and cordovan rose tie.
Back in the upstairs bath with the full length mirror he studied himself, knowing he looked as good as he could, given the material he had to work with. He had shaved following his shower but even so he ran a hand over his face, grimacing at the rasp. His beard grew fast. Too damn fast. He pulled out his electric razor and buzzed himself again. Then he took his mustache comb and scissors and touched up his
‘stache, frowning over the gray hairs he spotted mixed in with his sable black.
Finally he put his tools away and left the bathroom. He glanced at his Timex. Seven-fifty-five. With stiff fingers he smoothed the cuff of his jacket down and brushed imaginary lint off his shoulder. Then he started pacing.
Sweeney followed him at first, trying to squirm around his legs, giving up only after David accidentally kicked him. Miffed, the Siamese left the room and disappeared into David’s bedroom. He almost followed the cat, then knew he didn’t have time. Apologies would have to come later.
He heard a vehicle turn up his driveway. He hurried to the front door, but refrained from throwing it open. When the doorbell pealed, he forced himself to take his time answering it.
The doorbell rang again.
This time, he did throw the door open.
Return to TOC
Chapter 11
Wednesday, 8:10 pm, Piedmont Avenue, Glendale
CHRIS WAITED FOR David to buckle up before he headed south. Sticking to surface streets they neared West Hollywood.
“Where are we going? Or is it still a surprise?”
Chris only grinned at him. “You look nice.”
David looked over at him, his gaze raking Chris’s slim form. “So do you. Is that new?”
“Des just got a new shipment in from Italy. Couldn’t resist this.” He patted his pin-striped leg. “Ah, here we are.”
David was familiar with Melrose, but not this location. He glanced up at the impressive arched window overlooking Melrose. The sign said Xiomara. Chris parked his Lexus on Seward and waited for David to get out and led the way back to Melrose.
“What’s t his place?” David asked as they were led into the dining area by the maitre’d. They passed a massive black bar that took up nearly one whole wall and were led into an alcove and handed two menus.
“Neuvo latino—you have got to try their Mambo mojito. It’s to die for,” Chris said.
“You know I don’t drink things like that.”
“Honey, tonight, I’m in charge.”
David was visibly taken back. He had always been the take charge guy in their relationship. Chris had always wanted it that way. Well things were going to change, starting here.
“You’ll like it. Trust me.”
“Do I get to choose my meal?” David asked with an uneasy smile.
Chris scooped the menu out of David’s hands and handed them back to the obsequious waiter who had appeared moments after they were seated.
“Two Mambos to start. We’ll have a bottle of the Smith-Madrone Riesling with dinner, then the Pepper Crusted Goat Cheese and Red Beet Salad and Ceviche as appetizers.”
“Very good, sir.”
“I’ll let you know what we want for the main course in a bit.”
The waiter did everything but click his heels as he left the table. He returned within minutes with two tall glasses. Chris took a sip and sighed. Still as good as always.
Chris raised his glass and smiled. “ A su salud, a su amor y a nosotros,” he said softly.
David touched his glass to Chris’s and brought it to his lips. “ Salud.” He drank and at Chris’s look, nodded. “You’re right, it’s good.”
When the appetizers arrived David sampled both. He nodded. “Good.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Sure.” Chris didn’t say anything else. He could tell from the unasked question in David’s eyes that he wanted to know with who, but wouldn’t ask. And Chris wasn’t talking. He wasn’t about to tell David he’d been here with a client for a business lunch. Let David think the worst. Jealousy kept a man on his toes.
The waiter was back. Chris gave his order. “Charcuterie and Chino-Cubano Arroz Frito with Maduros.” When the waiter left he met David’s gaze. “Mixed meats done Cuban style. I think you’ll like it.”
“Well, you know me and meat.”
The obvious double entendre did what David intended, it sent a bolt of raw desire along Chris’s already sizzling nerves. He took a deep drink of mojito and ate some ceviche. He extended a forkful to David who took it. They stared at each other across the table then Chris offered him another bite.
Chris was aware of nothing else in the room, in the world, except David. He could see the wide pores on his rough skin, the green ring around his dilated pupils, a bead of sweat nestled in the silky black hairs of his mustache. His lips were slightly opened and Chris could see his pink tongue as it took in the ceviche and tasted it. A pulse beat in the shadow of David’s throat and Chris stared at it, mesmerized.
David licked his lips and Chris almost came then and there. He looked away, a flush flaring up his neck, burning the skin of his face.
The wine he had ordered earlier arrived and was opened by the sommelier. Chris tasted it, nodded and watched as their two wine glasses were filled. The acidic wine had just the right flowery essence for the meal he had in mind.
And it was.
“So when do you go back to work?” he asked.
“Probably light duty starting Monday. The doctor wanted me to take a few more days off and Lord knows, I have enough sick time saved up.”
Chris topped their wine glasses. “What have you been doing to keep busy?”
“Picked up a Motorola Stereo Hi-Fi,” David said with sudden enthusiasm. “It’s in a Drexel Cabinet.
Needs a lot of work but it’ll be sharp when it’s done.”
“I’d like to see it sometime,” Chris said. He meant it too. He’d always been impressed by the painstaking work David gave to his collection. “Maybe we can have a music night in.”
“Sure,” David said roughly, not meeting Chris’s knowing gaze. “We can do that.”
“I think I found the car I want,” Chris said. “It’s a Ford, like you suggested. And you always say we should buy American.”
“Sure, keep the jobs here.” David nodded. “What model?”
“An Escape. Lot better gas mileage than the Lexus. But there’s still room for me to bring equipment to a job site.”
“You still want me to go with you for a test drive?”
Chris nodded. “Yes. You know what I should be looking for better than I do.”
“I doubt that,” David said dryly. Chris grinned.
“So we’re on?”
“Sure. When?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Give me a time and place.”
“How about I pick you up,” Chris said, watching David’s face. “I’d like to go early.”
“Fine by me.” Again the tension Chris recognized. “Give me a call.”
“I will,” Chris said softly, knowing he wouldn’t be calling David. He wouldn’t need to.
They finished the meal with more easy conversation. Both of them declined dessert. Chris ordered coffee instead. They returned to the car and Chris headed back to David’s. Once there they both climbed out of the Lexus and stood in the driveway. Chris gazed up at the gabled roof over the front door. It had been painted recently.
“You’ve been fixing the place up.”
“Figured it was about time.”
“It looks good.”
David stared down at his feet, then back up at Chris. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“What now? You’re in charge, right?”
“Oh, that. Not anymore.”
“What?”
“The night’s over. I’m giving it up.”
“Oh,” David said. He thought for about a minute then a slow smile broke over his craggy face. “In which case, I’m taking over.”
Chris eyed him warily, not sure where this was going.
He pulled Chris into his arms. “Lock that thing up,” he said, indicating the Lexus. “You’re coming with me.”
He took Chris’s hand and led him up to the front door, unlocking it and then locking it behind them. He turned to face Chris in the tiny alcove. Chris stood motionless, his body vibrating with tension. David was so near, yet so very far away.
David bridged that gap. He reached up and cupped Chris’s face in his hands. Heat pooled in Chris’s gut and his legs grew weak. He leaned against the wall for support. Gently David pressed his mouth to Chris’s, his lips open. His breath was warm and his mouth tasted of coffee. The kiss deepened and he filled Chris’s mouth with his tongue, savagely plundering him, his hands closing into fists on his shoulders, shoving him back into the wall. He skimmed his hands down Chris’s side, gripping his ass and lifting him off the floor. Chris wrapped one leg around David’s hip and arched against him, slamming David’s hips between his legs, pressing against his hardening cock.
He broke away from David and gasped for air. “God, David—”
“Shut up,” David growled. “Don’t talk. Don’t move.”
He grabbed Chris’s hand and pulled him to the bedroom, pushing him on the bed and reaching for his shirt.
Chris raised shaking fingers to undo David’s shirt, but David brushed his hands away. “Don’t move.”
Chris froze and watched David shuck his jacket and shirt, dumping them over the only other furniture in the room, a ladder back chair. Mesmerized, Chris watched hard muscled flesh as it was exposed to his hungry gaze. David’s chest rippled and flexed as he stripped, only leaving his pants on, the fly opened, exposing his boxers. Chris stared at the raised red scar on David’s lower abdomen, sharply contrasting with his dark skin.
