Kiss and Tell

by R. W. Clinger

  “Sounds good,” Burke said, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.

  “Don’t look so petrified. I’m sure you’ve had a few blind dates in your history.”

  Burke grinned, trying to be confident. “I have. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  Colby told him goodbye and stepped into the morning rain with his umbrella and the signed contract.

  Burke couldn’t help but to stare at True Blue’s leading ass as Colby walked away: tight, bulbous, compact in the khakis, maybe too attractive. Again, his dick started to grow, which he pushed away, turning his view from Colby Blue’s firm bottom.

  * * * *

  Minutes later

  Three blocks from True Blue, Burke parked the Jeep between a BMW and Prius in the Just Coffee parking lot. He climbed out of the vehicle, rushed into the coffee shop, and ordered a large caramel latte with no whipped cream.

  The twenty-something ginger behind the counter recognized him. “You’re the lucky guy who won the lottery, aren’t you?”

  Burke shook his head, hating attention from his win. “You’re mistaking me for someone else.”

  It had become a common irritation in Burke’s life in Channing. People knew his name and what he looked like because of stories about him on WCHN, Channel 5, articles in the Channing Teller, and other forms of current media. A day hadn’t gone by when someone, like the ginger, noticed him. No wonder he hid out in Mexico for a month after winning the cash, secluded from the masses.

  “I swear,” the ginger said. “You’re Spiral guy.”

  Spire, Burke thought. My last name is Spire, not Spiral.

  Ginger boy continued, “You won over forty million dollars.”

  “I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong guy. Can I please pay for, and have, my coffee?”

  The barista nodded, collected Burke’s money, and shuffled away to prepare the ordered drink.

  Less than three minutes later, Burke sat at a two-person table and watched the rain cover Channing, an all-day rain according to the meteorologist, Parker Stevens, on Channel 5. Beautiful rain. Soothing. Medicinal.

  Strangely, Burke couldn’t get Colby Blue’s fit body, dick-bulge, and tight bottom out of his head. Plus, the professional had a rocking smile. Never had he thought a man more handsome, at least not since Derrick Menderson, his Oklahoma cowboy. Something unfamiliar shifted within Burke’s chest, a rising and falling feeling almost made him nauseous. A sort of lovesick moment he had once felt for Derrick, moons before, unrelentingly.

  Unsure, Burke took two sips of his coffee, pulled his cellphone from a front pocket, and got down to business, something he had been meaning to do for the last week or so.

  Burke pressed a few buttons on his phone’s screen, and three names appeared: Glady Daye, Beth Shore, and Ad Pilsner. He dialed Glady Daye’s number, and she picked up on the second ring.

  “Good to hear from you, Burke. You shouldn’t be a stranger.”

  “I’ll try harder. Life gets somewhat busy.”

  “It does. The world is unstoppable.”

  He asked if he could stop by her residence in the next hour on the opposite side of town. Glady kindly accepted.

  * * * *

  Gladys “Glady” Daye opened her saltbox-type home’s front door, looked over the top of her reading glasses, and glared at Burke. “What’s this about? You know I’m not the type of woman to have drama in her life. Calling me up this morning and demanding to speak with me in person. If this has anything to do with drama, you can leave right now, young man. You know my rules. You know the way I live.”

  “Business,” Burke said, smiling.

  Glady hadn’t changed ever since his childhood and probably never would. On the plumper side. Blue-eyed. Wrinkles from seven decades of growth around her mouth. A grandmother now. Intimidating, blunt, and mostly always serious, the woman of sixty-eight looked as if she had lost twenty pounds. Her arms were less flabby, strangely slimmer. Retired for the last three years from being a guidance counselor at Channing High School, she seemed healthier than Burke had ever seen her: smoother skin under her brown eyes and a pink hue in her always-pale face from a possible recent visit to somewhere in Florida.

  She raised an eyebrow at Burke, pursed her lips. “What kind of business?”

  “Personal business. Can I come in?”

  “In that case, yes.” She stepped aside and welcomed Burke into the saltbox. “Don’t forget to wipe your feet.”

  “Of course,” Burke said, doing as she instructed by using a throw rug with a faux-Oriental weave. “I’ll make this short.”

  “Good to know. Reverend Bixy is coming by. We’re having a praying date.”

  Burke knew better. Ray Bixy was the woman’s boyfriend, and the two did more than just pray together. He ignored her comment and stepped into the living room area to the left of the foyer. The room looked just as it had the last time he visited the woman three weeks before: brown carpet, brown walls, a picture of Jesus hanging on the cross over her flat-screen, two reading chairs with worn arms. Comfortable. Nothing fancy. He helped himself to a seat in one of the chairs.

  “Sit with me, please.”

  She listened, rubbed her hands together. “This must be good if you’re telling me to sit beside you.”

  “It’s not bad, of course.” He took a deep breath. “You know I love you like a second mother, right?”

  Glady nodded. “And I love you as a son. As your next-door neighbor while you were growing up, I didn’t know what to expect as a second mother. You had me up and down on many days. No boy should only have one mother, in my opinion, though. No way. No how. The women on Foster Street were like that. We all looked out for each other’s kids. It was the only way to be.” She leaned forward, gently patted his left knee with an outstretched palm. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way, of course.”

  “We lived beside each other for eighteen years.”

  She shook her head. “Nineteen. I moved here during your first year of college. The house on Foster was too big for me. Too many rooms. Too large to clean. Too much dust. A woman finds that she hates dust the older she becomes. Thank God I had the job at the high school to get away from it.”

  Nervously, he chuckled, reached in to one of his pockets, and pulled out a piece of yellow paper. He passed the paper to her. “Unfold it and read it to me.”

  Glady listened. “What kind of game are you playing, and why do you sound so fidgety?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  She huffed, holding up the paper in front of her reading glasses. “There’s numbers on here. Four. Five. Zero. Zero. Zero. Zero.”

  “Forty-five hundred thousand.”

  “Almost a half-million dollars.”

  He winked at her, smiled. “I’m sure you know what’s happened to me in the last few months.”

  “You quit your job. You still don’t have a boyfriend. And you won a large chunk of money playing the state lottery.”

  Burke nodded. “All true. I just came by to tell you I’ve always loved and cared about you. You yelled at me when I needed to be yelled at as a kid, you hugged me when I needed a hug, and you fed me a ton of food. The number on the piece of paper is what I want to give you for everything you’ve done in my life, Glady. You were my mom when I didn’t have a mom. You were a rock in my world, a pillar, and a lot of guidance. The money is a thank you for just being you.”

  Glady shook her head. “I can’t accept this, Burke.”

  “But you can,” he said and leaned forward, taking the woman in his arms. He squeezed her against him and whispered into her ear, “Thank you for loving me, Glady.”

  Glady began to cry. Good tears.

  Following the cry, Glady said, “Stay for lunch. You must.”

  Burke did.

  * * * *

  June 7

  For some bizarre reason, Burke couldn’t get Colby Blue out his head, thinking about the handsome man every other moment of his morning. Colby, with his six-three
frame and step-into green eyes. Colby Blue, with his charm and rolling brown hair. Colby, with his perfect smile and…

  Burke had to keep his head straight, forgetting the businessman for at least the next few hours. He had two other meetings to arrange and work to do. Millionaire or not, his personality didn’t let him sit around the lakeside A-frame and do nothing. Rather, he liked to stay busy, on top of his game.

  The weather hadn’t been kind that morning, Burke noted. Wind turned fierce, blowing down from Canada, and rain pelted against the house. Springtime rain watered the two gardens, which they required. Plus, the three birdbaths needed to be filled because he had overlooked them.

  Rain or no rain, he called Beth Shore to arrange a personal meeting with her. Beth didn’t pick up, though, finishing her year of teaching at Ressner Learning, a private high school for well-to-do families.

  Burke left the message, “Hey, Beth. Wanted to chat. Give me a call back. I have some business to talk with you about. Hugs. Bye.”

  He knew Beth was pretty quick about getting back to him and continued his day. Burke had other things to accomplish: grocery shopping, visiting one of his favorite bakeries and two bookstores, and a short visit with his mother and a discussion about sending her to Italy for a month in search of white truffles.

  “Better get started.” He grabbed a light jacket and slipped it on, beginning the rest of his busy day.

  * * * *

  The True Blue Dating Agency set Burke up on his first date. According to an email from Colby Blue, Burke was to meet a Reggie McFarland that evening at The Shrimp Shack on Bessinger Road, next to the lake. A picture of Reggie was attached to the email. Reggie looked like a muscular leprechaun, and he had a spiraling ball of red hair and bright green eyes. He stood at six-two, worked as an economics professor at West End College, and had three sons. Like Burke, Reggie was forty-two, good with money, and a lover as opposed to being a hater.

  The Shrimp Shack had the best shrimp rolls in Erie, according to the writer, Nathan Hawkeson, of the Lakeside Grille, an on-line magazine defining trendy foods, cafes, and bistros. Both Burke and Reggie ordered the Shrimp Roll Platter to share: two rolls, large beer-battered fries, and two beers.

  Reggie told the waiter, a Josh Hutcherson look-alike, to, “…keep the bottles of beer coming.”

  Seated next to the lake at a wooden picnic table, listening to the wind and rain beyond the transparent and plastic tarp that protected them from the evening rainstorm, Burke listened to Reggie talk about himself. Once married for six years to a southern belle named Elizabeth Rae; realized he was gay when he slept with the UPS driver when he turned thirty-five, ruining his relationship with his wife; children in their early teens; lacking a boyfriend for the last year; wants to become serious with a guy; prefers Italian men.

  “Although, I’m attracted to your blond hair and blue eyes, Burke.”

  “How do you like being a professor?”

  “The young men I teach are attractive, and I usually spend the day with a throbbing erection.”

  “Interesting,” Burke said, a little surprised by Reggie’s forward comment.

  “I fuck any of them I can.” Reggie pulled out his phone and showed Burke a dozen selfies of his male students, most of which were naked with boners. “These are the dudes I’ve messed around with. They’re mostly jocks. Horny straight guys who just want to get off and spray their pent loads. You’d be surprised how many like to take dick. Don’t let the young, college guys fool you into thinking they’re straight as arrows.”

  Burke felt his stomach turn, learning information about Reggie he didn’t want to. “How often do you sleep with them?”

  Reggie smiled. “Two or three a week. Whenever they come by my office with their hard dicks, ready to dump their cream. I take them back to my apartment, feed them a few beers, let them snort something up their handsome noses, and have my way with them. Cocks around. Dicks galore. It’s a great time.”

  Burke downed half of his beer, no longer hungry for the meal sitting in front of him. Part of him didn’t believe this date real. A joke. On the show Punked. Then he recalled how much Colby Blue charged for taking on clients. Knowing the amount, he started to question the agency’s integrity and lowbrow clientele.

  When Reggie asked, “How do you feel about threesomes?” Burke knew the date was over.

  Politely, he dropped his napkin to the plate in front of him, stood, and told Reggie the two didn’t have chemistry and he failed to a see a future with the man. As quickly as he could, Burke bolted out of the restaurant and drove home, glad he was single for maybe the first time in his life.

  * * * *

  Less than an hour later

  “What a fucking perv,” Ad said. “I’m proud of you, Burke, for getting up and leaving.”

  Burke paced his kitchen, talking to his best friend on his cellphone, upset over his date with Reggie McFarland. “Twenty years ago, I would have loved the idea of sleeping around with a bunch of college jocks, but I’m in my forties now and respect men more now than I did then.”

  “Sounds like a horrible time.”

  “I’m scarred by the whole event. To think I’ve socked twenty-four thousand dollars and my personal time into this dating thing, and The True Blue Dating Agency is providing me with this type of man to date. It’s seems ludicrous and a waste of my time. Preposterous.”

  “The money shouldn’t be your concern, Burke. Let me remind you you’re wealthy. I know you forget sometimes.”

  Burke didn’t concentrate on what Ad said, looking at the lake and studying its rough waves. “I couldn’t believe what Reggie told me. Did he honestly think I was going to have a second date with him? Did he really believe I was going to have threesomes with him and his college students?”

  “You need to talk to Blue, guy. See what he says. Maybe an email would work. Sometimes it’s easier to tell people what’s on your mind by putting it into a long email. Maybe Blue can help you. If not, I’d recommend a lawsuit. Get a portion of your money back and be on your way.”

  Burke considered Ad’s advice. “You’re right. I’ll contact Colby Blue and tell him what happened. I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding of what I want out of this agreement with his company.”

  “Sounds like a good plan, Burke. Stay strong.”

  The two men talked for the next half hour about another monetary check Burke had given to Ad and Dina. Thirty thousand dollars this time, a little something-something to help their budget.

  Burke told him, “You’re my best friend. We all need to live. I don’t want you and Dina to struggle.”

  Eventually, there was silence on Ad’s end of the call.

  “Ad?” Burke questioned. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

  “Just thinking about your generosity and how lucky I am to have you as a friend.”

  Before ending the call, Burke said to the man, “You’ve always been my best friend, long before my big win. You’ve always had my back and always will. I know that. I feel it’s my duty to help you and Dina out.”

  Ad sniffed. Sobbing. “Thanks.”

  It was all Burke comprehended the man could rationally say.

  * * * *

  Later that evening, Burke’s cellphone rang. At first, he thought it Ad calling him back, forgetting to tell him something about Dina or the money Burke had generously given the couple. Instead, it was Beth Shore, and he felt delighted to speak with her.

  “What’s up, sweetheart?” Beth said, always cheerful.

  “Done with school for the summer?”

  “Done and over with. I’m flying to Phoenix tomorrow evening to visit David for a month.”

  David Line wrote paperback thrillers for a living. Three years younger than Beth, adorable with his fluff of brown hair and dimples, David was quite talkative, a fun drinker, and socially entertaining. The two had been dating for the last year; a good catch for Beth. Burke knew she had hoped David would ask her to marry her soon, sealing the deal
of their relationship because she had fallen in love with him. Burke didn’t know if it would happen, though, at least not anytime soon. Love was like that sometimes, a mystery in the making.

  “You should find a teaching job out in Phoenix and move. Although I like having you close, Beth, I can love you anywhere.”

  “That’s the best thing a friend could say,” Beth shared. “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it. I really don’t like being so far away from David in this relationship with him.” She paused, obviously thinking about something. “What’s this business you need to discuss with me?”

  Burke grinned, feeling fluffy inside, warm. “We can go over it tomorrow morning. Brunch at Mellner’s. Ten o’clock. Does that work for you?”

  “Sure. But we have to make it short. I have a ton of things to do before my evening flight.”

  “Short is best. I understand. We’ll have bagels and fruit.”

  “Good. See you at ten.”

  * * * *

  June 8

  Franklin Street

  9:04 A.M.

  Burke sat across from Colby Blue inside Colby’s office. He couldn’t help but notice the snugness of Colby’s light blue dress shirt around his massive torso, exemplifying the man’s pectorals and firm nipples. Burke unintentionally licked his lips, always liking how the man looked.

  Colby admitted to being aghast after hearing Burke’s details regarding his date with Reggie McFarland. He ran a palm through his brown military cut, closed his eyes, and shook his head. Coming to from his confusion, he solemnly said to Burke, “I didn’t know any of this about the professor. Reggie McFarland has a very crisp application with my company. White-collar. Astute. A professional. Monetarily comfortable. Soft spoken. This is horrible news you’re sharing with me.”

  “The date was a catastrophe.”

  “And an embarrassment to True Blue. I honestly don’t know what to say.”

  Burke watched the handsome man shuffle through a set of papers on his desk.

  “In black and white, he’s the perfect match for you. Both of you have the same interests.”