Shadows of Love

by Jerry Cole

  “Actually, I'm interested in this shelf-above-the-top-shelf liquor that you might have laying around.”

  “Ah...the cognac.”

  “Cognac? That's not my usual style.”

  “But it's the color of your eyes.” Roland squeezed his eyes shut as he froze in place. I did it again, he thought. I just blurted something I shouldn't have. “I meant to say that I noticed that earlier. On the porch. It just seemed really...neat.”

  Gabe snickered.

  Roland switched out the plates and nuked the second one. He reached above the fridge and grabbed a stout bottle and two glasses. As he set the glasses on the table, Gabe sat upright and leaned forward.

  “That's actually nice of you to notice,” he said. “Usually, people just say my eyes are brown.”

  “Well, there's more than just brown or black or beige, isn't there? Colors are much more than just their names. They have variations and other elements.”

  “I'm surprised you would think so.”

  Roland poured cognac into each glass and set the bottle back on top of the fridge. He retrieved the two plates and set them on the table, smiling as he took his seat. “Why does that surprise you?”

  “You're a mortician's assistant. I didn't think you noticed anything like that.”

  “I tend to handle the restoration phase of presenting a corpse, so I have to pay close attention to detail.”

  Gabe looked intensely interested. His eyes widened as he plucked a plastic fork from the container at the center of the table. “Oh, now you must tell me about that. I love gruesome things.”

  “I suppose it is rather disgusting, but I've found it to be particularly...grounding.”

  “Go on.”

  Roland dug around in his potatoes while constructing the next few sentences. The whole reason he had quit mingling in the dating scene of Los Angeles was because of this. Not many people had the stomach for such details. But Gabe seemed truly interested. He seemed able to handle the darker side of life.

  And death.

  “I guess you've seen your share of gore,” Roland supposed. “Since you're a stuntman, you've probably seen worse than I have.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ.”

  “I didn't know begging was an option.”

  Gabe shot Roland a shocked look before his features sank into shy embarrassment. His cheekbones flushed with crimson. “Using my own jokes against me, I see.”

  “I'm a chameleon. I like to adapt to my surroundings.”

  “Sly—but smart. So, tell me more about reconstruction. What do you do?”

  Roland nodded as he chewed through his food. When he swallowed, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Corpses aren't pretty. And putting them on display in an open casket can be traumatizing for families. When people die, they start to decay. They lose their color and begin rotting.”

  “That's delightfully gross.”

  “What we do is usually up to the family, but typically we do what's called embalming. This temporarily preserves the body for viewing.”

  “Horrific.”

  Roland smiled. “You don't seem horrified at all.”

  “No, I find it all fascinating. Death has always lured me in whether it was through horror films or books or serial killers. I'm attracted to all of it.”

  He perked up. “That's relieving because this whole mortician gig is really a cover for my underground killing business.”

  “Now, we're getting the good stuff. Tell me about that.”

  “I could tell you everything, but then I'd have to kill you.”

  “It's a sacrifice I'd be willing to make.”

  “You're a brave man, Gabriel Hyde. You really do flirt with death, don't you?”

  Gabe smirked. “Has it not been obvious?”

  “Oh, I...” Roland faded as his gaze fell to his plate. He felt the blush returning. As he raised his eyes, the lights above flickered. He shook his head. “We've been having these strange rolling brown-outs lately.”

  “That's LA for you.”

  “It's been inconvenient, especially when I have to stay late at night.”

  “Oh, were you working on a corpse before you found me?”

  “Of course,” Roland said with a laugh. “What else would I be doing?”

  “I just thought you said you run an underground killing business. I figured maybe you were chasing away some nasty customers.”

  The lights flickered again and then went out.

  “Okay, I like the macabre, but that was some creepy timing,” Gabe admitted. “Do you have that flashlight handy?”

  “I think I might have left it outside, but I've got us covered with something nicer.”

  “I'm impressed that you always have something better.”

  Roland chuckled as he carefully rose from his seat. He remembered where he was positioned and held out his hand to find the counter, locating the drawer that held the tea light candles. He grabbed a handful and set them on the table.

  “Got a light?” he asked.

  “Sure do.”

  He held his hand out across the table and instantly collided with Gabe's hand, retracting just as quickly. “God, I'm sorry.”

  “Don't worry about it. Here, hold out your hand again.”

  When he held out his hand, he felt Gabe take his and plant the lighter in his palm. Gabe's hand lingered with his.

  He cleared his throat as he searched blindly for the tea lights.

  “I feel like this would have all been easier if you had used your flashlight,” Gabe commented.

  “I'm sure I can say the same about your stunt job.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It could all be easier if they just used dummy dolls instead of real humans, right?”

  Gabe laughed. “Well, you've got me there.”

  When Roland flicked the lighter, the flame spouted immediately and illuminated his face. He lit one candle and then the next, following the miniature circle he had created in the center of the table. When he was finished, there was enough light to see his food—and to see Gabe.

  He held out his hands as if finishing up a magic trick. “Ta-da.”

  “Impressive,” Gabe said while clapping. “And my lighter?”

  “Oh, my apologies.”

  “It's all right. It's just a lucky one. I keep it on me at all times.”

  “Any significance for that? Is it a stuntman's superstition?”

  Gabe went quiet for a moment as he twirled the lighter between his fingers. After a moment, a warm grin spread over his lips. “It belonged to Ben.”

  “May I be quite forward with you?”

  “By all means. Candlelight is the best ambiance for such things.”

  “Was Ben your boyfriend?”

  Gabe burst into laughter while plunging the lighter into his pocket. “No, not by any means, although I suppose we would have looked like that to some people.”

  “I didn't mean to presume.”

  “It's a fair presumption. I have been talking about him a lot.”

  “Well, that doesn't mean you're gay.”

  “Well, I am gay.”

  Roland perked up. He had dropped his plastic fork and went to recover it but ended up knocking it from the table. As he fumbled to recover it from the ground, he thanked the powers above that the lights had gone out. By the way his face felt, he must have turned three different shades of crimson in the last ten seconds.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, that makes two of us. Would Ben make three?”

  “No, he was a straight arrow. You could say he was a bit of a ladies' man. Maybe that's what got him killed.”

  “Should I... should I laugh at that?”

  Gabe chuckled. “I mean, I made the joke for a reason.”

  “I just didn't want to be insensitive. I love dark humor, but not at the expense of someone's pain.”

  “That's considerate of you. Did you pick that up working here at the funeral home?”

  Roland nodded. “It tak
es some practice to figure out when to crack a joke and when to keep it to yourself. But people need to smile sometimes. It helps to add a little humor to a situation in the most appropriate manner possible.”

  “I bet you make a fine joker.”

  “Only on Fridays. That's my other job: I'm a killer clown.”

  “Now we're getting somewhere.”

  Roland broke out into another hearty laugh, feeling the jovial feeling take over his chest. He felt light even though the entire room was plunged in shadows. “I like that you like my humor. It's refreshing. I've been nervous meeting new people here, so this has been nice.”

  “Wait, how long have you been here?”

  “About ten years or more.”

  “Ten years?!” Gabe repeated incredulously. “And you don't ever meet anyone new? Why's that?”

  “Oh, I...”

  When Roland faded, Gabe recovered his shocked expression and replaced it with empathy. “I didn't mean to tease you about it. I know how hard it can be to mingle with these social circles.”

  “Who wants to hear a mortician's assistant talk about corpses? It might be Hollywood, but that's a bit eccentric for people these days.”

  Gabe nodded knowingly. “I get that. I spend a lot of time around the elite people of this town. I really do get it.”

  “Thank you for saying that.”

  “Of course. I mean it.”

  When the room fell silent, Roland picked up a new fork and began digging back into his food. It was cool in his mouth but still tasted delicious, retaining the seasoning he had sprinkled on it when he originally cooked it. As he chewed carefully, he glanced at Gabe and smiled warmly, feeling a sense of connection growing between them.

  “I haven't shared too many candlelit dinners in my days,” he commented. “But this has been nice. Would you...like to do this again?”

  Gabe met Roland's gaze with a dazzling grin. “I thought you'd never ask.”

  “Well, I didn't want to presume that you were interested.”

  “I'm interested.”

  Roland beamed. “Thank you for making that clear.”

  “I'm terrible at flirting, but I hope I've made it at least mostly obvious. I wouldn't want you going back to your restoration process without a little bit of a smile.”

  “That's sweet of you. Could I make you dinner? A proper dinner? This is heated leftovers and that shouldn't count.”

  “It counts in my book. And I'll do you one better.”

  “Ah, something better...” Roland smirked. “I see you're taking a page from my book.”

  “It seemed fair since you borrowed my joke.”

  “Then, by the unwritten laws of borrowing, it is absolutely fair, and we are now even.”

  Gabe hummed thoughtfully. “So, how about you meet me at the base of the hill for the Hollywood sign.”

  Roland raised his eyebrows with interest. “We're going to climb up to the Hollywood sign? Really?”

  “It's the most romantic gesture I can think of right now.”

  Roland smiled wide. “All right—I'm game.”

  He set down his fork and folded his hands across his lap, feeling full in more ways than just physical. As he watched Gabe finish eating, he felt a spark in his gut, a familiar pang that made him want to giggle with joy.

  He felt excitement.

  Chapter Three

  Gabe

  Gabe tapped his foot impatiently. He had gotten to the foot of the hill first, having been too nervous to wait on his bike in the parking lot. He had his helmet tucked under his arm and he was ready to ditch when he heard the familiar whistle of a suite by Bach.

  He flipped around and a warm grin crossed his lips as he recognized the figure approaching him. “I thought you would never make it!”

  He opened his arms wide to accept a hug from Roland. Although Roland seemed to hesitate, he leaned into the friendly gesture and patted Gabe on the back. “I wouldn't miss this. I've never been up to the Hollywood sign before.”

  “I'm sorry. Did you just tell me that you have missed one of the markers of living in Hollywood?”

  “I guess I'm less cool now that I've admitted that.”

  Gabe shook his head. “No, that just means this is much more special.”

  “I'm a little afraid of heights.”

  “So, don't look down.” Gabe extended his hand to Roland. “And if you do, just hold my hand tight.”

  Again, Gabe witnessed the visible hesitation in Roland's features, the sagging of his cheeks as his brows furrowed into a skin-deep knot. As lovely as he had appeared in candlelight, he looked even more handsome now, even while he was worried. His aquamarine eyes were deep-set and the orbs of exploding color were bordered by a dark brown, perhaps even a black, ring. His tawny skin was speckled with light brown freckles all the way from his broad forehead to his square jaw.

  And from what Gabe could see, the freckles dipped beneath the neckline of Roland's red flannel shirt. Roland's closely cropped beard was the same coffee brown as his short, curly hair and gave him a jovial and warm appearance. His broad shoulders and thick body made him look like a weightlifter, although Gabe was willing to bet that all that muscle was done by nature instead of by exercise.

  As Gabe wiggled his fingers in Roland's direction, he noticed the minimalist mermaid tattoo on Roland's forearm. Roland took his hand and he turned Roland's arm to get a better view of it.

  “My goodness, what is this?” Gabe teased. “And here I thought you might have been a square.”

  “I got that after my first kill.”

  Gabe's eyes sparkled as he glanced up at Roland. “Oh, really? Was it on a ship or something?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I hope you don't take me down on the Hollywood sign.”

  “But wouldn't that be the best way to go?”

  “Only in the movies.”

  Roland chuckled and winked. “So, it seems.”

  Gabe nodded toward a set of bushes. “There's a hidden path that makes the climb easier. Care to join me?”

  “As long as you remind me not to look down.”

  “I'll do my best.”

  He squeezed Roland's hand and led Roland toward the bushes, glancing around for a moment to determine how alone they were. Other than the busy traffic from the nearby road, the area appeared clear of humans. He tentatively set down his helmet in the bushes to hide it and cleared away some of the brush, guiding Roland onto the path.

  “Such a gentleman,” Roland whispered shakily. “This seems to be something you do often.”

  “Actually, this would be a first for me.”

  “Really?”

  “I don't think I've ever taken anyone up here.”

  Roland chuckled. “Would that make this extra special?”

  “It sure would.”

  Gabe felt Roland give his hand a squeeze. It nearly made him trip over a hidden root. He recovered easily, effectively masking the fact that he had nearly eaten dirt. The path became slightly steeper as he marched on, noticing the discarded collection of beer cans, glass bottles, and an assortment of fast food paper bags.

  He frowned at it. “I can't believe people treat this place like their garbage can.”

  “It's the sad state of our nation.”

  “Honestly, a killer clown should really teach them something about being such a jerk to their earth.”

  “Am I supposed to take that as a hint for something?”

  Gabe laughed as he took the last few steps with ease. “I mean, it's almost Halloween. Shouldn't somebody be scaring these kids senseless?”

  “It's a hard job, but it's honest work. I think I'd be up for it. But do I really have to kill teenagers?”

  “Horror movie rules—if they're drunk, they're dead.”

  Roland laughed. “I can't argue with that.”

  “Do you have a favorite?”

  “Killing style? No, I think they're all wonderful, although the scalpel does make slicing so much nicer.”


  Gabe doubled over with snickers. “No, I meant a favorite horror movie. Wow, Roland, you got darker way faster than I had anticipated.”

  And I like it, he thought with a grin. He licked his lips. And I want to do something about that, but not yet. We're not in the right spot yet.

  “Ah, the horror movie question. This must be a test to see if we're truly compatible,” Roland joked. “I have too many favorites. I can't pick one.”

  “So, go with your top three.”

  “Ugh, that feels worse, somehow.”

  “All right, then. I'll give a whirl.” He paused just beneath the path leading toward the end of the Hollywood sign. The great letter 'D' looked menacing with the bright lamps illuminating it. He stood with Roland just within the shadow of the letter, feeling an ominous darkness settling over them as they stood there. “I think I like Wicked Wild Woman. You know, that cheesy female flick from the 1970's.”

  “Oh, really? I have a poster of that one at home.”

  “Have you been spying on me? I feel like you researched my interests before luring me up here.”

  “I believe you're the one who has been luring me, my dear friend.”

  Gabe cracked a smile and laughed. “You bet I have. Now, get up here and check out this view.”

  He gently tugged on Roland's hand, guiding him up the rest of the way to the spot just between the 'D' and the 'O'. Hollywood rested before their eyes, lit up with all sorts of colorful lights and signs. The cars on the road below whooshed by and cast a bright glow over the road in the distance, looking like shooting stars dancing in the night sky.

  He squeezed Roland's hand. “I like to come up here and think.”

  “Does it help?”

  “On occasion, yes. I came up here when Ben died. It put everything in perspective for me.”

  Roland squeezed Gabe's hand. “That's how I feel about the mountains. Whenever I climb them, it makes my problems look so much smaller. It makes me feel better about life.”

  “You like hiking?”

  “I like climbing.”

  “So, all that muscle doesn't go to waste.”

  Roland chuckled. “What did you just say?”

  “Oh, I...” Gabe thanked the dark curtain guarding them for keeping his cheeks covered. He was redder than the fake blood he saw on set. While recovering from his flirtatious comment, he turned to study Roland's face. He smiled daringly and said, “Actually, I said that I'm glad that muscle doesn't go to waste.”