Chasing the Horizon

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Chasing the Horizon Page 9

by Scotty Cade


  Of course, they’d had their issues of late. Especially since Hawk had supposedly gone down a road of casual hookups and wild sex Justin didn’t think was good for him. But Hawk knew Justin’s bitching was out of concern, and although it drove him mad, he understood and tolerated it because he genuinely loved the little guy.

  “How many have I missed?” Justin asked, running a hand through his short dark hair.

  “You’re only one behind,” Hawk assured him. “This is just my second.”

  “I’ll have two vodka tonics,” Justin said to the bartender.

  “That’s my boy,” Hawk said, reaching over and rubbing Justin’s shoulder. “Should I be concerned?”

  “Whatever for?” Justin said sarcastically. “Maybe for the fact that I got reamed out royally by my big ole lesbian bull dyke of a boss because I answered my cell phone again?”

  “Oops,” Hawk said, pulling a swig off his beer.

  The bartender dropped two drinks in front of Justin, smiled, and waited.

  “Oops my ass.” Justin cocked his head toward Hawk and told the bartender, “Put these on his tab.”

  Hawk nodded and the bartender disappeared to the other end of the bar. “I’m sorry, Jus, I don’t really know your schedule anymore, so I have no idea when it’s okay to call or not.”

  Justin looked at him like he was an alien and shook his head. “I have the same schedule I’ve always had, asshole.”

  Hawk looked down at his empty beer bottle. “I’m sorry. I guess I haven’t been a very good friend lately.”

  “Give me your cell phone,” Justin ordered.

  “What?”

  Justin repeated his request.

  Hawk dug his phone out of his pocket and did as he was asked.

  Justin slid his fingers across the bottom of the screen and tapped a few times. When he finished, he handed the phone back to Hawk.

  Hawk looked at the screen and saw that the calendar was open. He tapped the days and realized Justin had just added his schedule from seven thirty in the morning to four thirty in the afternoon on Wednesday through Sunday.

  “Thanks, man. I promise I’ll use this.”

  “Make sure you do, because I don’t want to have to go to jail for planting my foot up some bull dyke’s ass.”

  Hawk threw his head back and howled. “Got it. Besides, you’re too pretty to go to jail.”

  “Tell me about it,” Justin said, looking Hawk up and down. “Enough about me, let’s talk about you.”

  “What?”

  “You have that just-laid look again. Who and when?”

  Hawk’s lips curved into a smile, and he shook his head. “Damn, Jus, are you spying on me? If not, you must be kin to The Mentalist or something. How can you always know what’s going on with me?”

  Justin looked him up and down again. “Because I know you very well, for starters, but every time you get laid, you get this really relaxed expression, and all the stress drains out of your face.”

  Hawk shook his head in disbelief. “I’ll remember that and try to always look stressed out just to throw you off.”

  “Seriously,” Justin said. “I’ll bet it was with that guy from last night, right?”

  Hawk slammed his hand down on the bar, causing their drinks to rattle. “Now I know you’re spying on me.”

  “Oh man, this is going to be good,” Justin teased. “Out with it.”

  Hawk gave him the Reader’s Digest version about how and what had transpired earlier in the day, but of course left out all the sexual details.

  “Wow, dude,” Justin said, shaking his head. “It’s not like you to shit in your own back yard. Unless…?”

  Hawk turned to Justin and immediately recognized the “I know you’re keeping something from me” expression on his face. He’d seen it many times before and dreaded what was coming next. “I really don’t want to know what you’re thinking, so stop it and let’s move on,” he warned.

  Justin flashed his famous all-knowing smile. “You like this guy and you want to see him again.”

  “You’re crazy,” Hawk replied.

  Justin downed the last of his first drink and took a sip of the second. “Well I’ll be damned.”

  “Just stop it, Butt-rah,” Hawk said rather curtly. “You’re way off base with this one.”

  “Now I know I’m right ’cause you only get that tone with me when you’re feeling defensive about something.”

  “Fuck,” Hawk cursed under his breath, staring at his empty beer bottle. “Am I that fucking transparent and predictable?”

  “Yep” was all Justin said.

  Before Hawk said another word, he held up a finger and the bartender came running over with another beer. “Okay, so I had a good time and maybe I will fuck him again, but that’s all there is to it.”

  “That’s saying a lot coming from Mr. Hit and Run. Are you sure about that?”

  “Positive. The guy was a good fuck, and I wouldn’t mind tapping that again. That’s all. Plain and simple. And besides, you know I’m not the dating kind.”

  “Whatever you say,” Justin mumbled wryly. “Whatever you say.”

  To get the attention off his love life, Hawk tried to change the subject. “How come we talk about my love life all the time? Enough about me! How come you never tell me anything about your love life? In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you go out on a date or ever go home with anyone.”

  Justin took another sip of his drink and put it down on the bar. “Because I don’t date” was all he said.

  Hawk rested his arms on the bar and turned his head to look at Justin again. “I know you don’t date, Jus, but what I don’t know is why.”

  The blood seemed to drain out of Justin’s face. His expression became somber, and he started fidgeting with his cocktail napkin.

  “Come on, Justin, I know you pretty well too. For years I’ve had this feeling that something bad must have happened to you and that’s why you don’t trust very many people. But what I don’t understand is why you don’t trust me. I haven’t pried because I figured when you got to know me, you would eventually tell me, but every time I bring up your dating, or lack thereof, you change the subject.”

  Hawk paused and waited for Justin to say something, anything, but he just looked straight ahead, like he was seeing something in the mirror behind the bar that Hawk wasn’t.

  Hawk tried again. “Look, I realize you know most of Key West; hell, I witnessed it again when you got here. But as far as I know, I’m your only really good friend. Why is that?”

  Justin gulped the rest of his drink and put the glass down. His hands were now trembling, and he closed his eyes and held on to the end of the bar. He turned to Hawk and looked him in the eyes. “I do trust you. Does that make you happy? And the answer is… because I was raped. Satisfy your curiosity?”

  Justin turned on his barstool, stood, and made a beeline for the door.

  GARNER SAT in front of the television with the remote control in his hand, sipping a glass of chardonnay while he flipped from channel to channel, but nothing seemed to hold his interest.

  A couple of hours ago, he’d seen Hawk bouncing down the dock, looking as happy as a lark, on his way to God only knows where, dressed like he was looking for some serious man-on-man action.

  “Why should that bother me?” Garner asked himself out loud. “Every indication says this guy has some serious baggage, and I should avoid him like the plague.”

  And what about your shitload of baggage? You’re a loner in your thirties who sucks at relationships and gave up your high-powered career to chase the horizon. Now tell me that’s not baggage. Garner had to chuckle at his own thoughts, but sadly, he was right. What kept bothering him, though, was he couldn’t figure out why he was so drawn to this guy.

  In a fit of frustration, he shut the television off and threw the remote across to the other side of the couch. The more he thought about the man, the more Hawk piqued the interest of the psychiatrist
in him. He could quite possibly be a classic textbook case. His desire for exceptionally rough sex, combined with his appearance, could indicate a guy who’d had a lot of shit to deal with growing up.

  If Hawk hadn’t told him that his parents were rational, well-educated ministers, he would have guessed—an educated guess, of course—that they had been unmarried teenagers with drug and/or alcohol addictions who cared little or nothing about him or his upbringing. Another possibility might be that he was a child of a single working mother with no real male influence in his life. And any of the above options could have had a negative effect on Hawk and his self-esteem, causing him to act out in appearance and behavior. But the rough sex—that was a totally different story.

  There were all sorts of textbook cases that came to Garner’s mind when he thought about the sex. One real possibility was sexual and physical child abuse. Some studies show a direct link between a preference for rough sex and adults who were sexually and physically abused as children. In some cases, the victim doesn’t believe he or she deserves to be loved in a gentle and loving way and therefore thrives on more brutal sexual activity.

  Another possibility with abused children involved the need for domination and power. The adult feels that he or she had no power to stop the abuse when it was happening, so they must exert that power now. But Hawk was totally submissive, so that might not apply in his case.

  Fear of intimacy could be a factor, as well as a mental and physical disconnect between love and sex. But the most common psychological explanation was that the pain of rough sex sometimes reassured an abused person that they could still feel something.

  Garner was smart enough to know that all this was just speculation, and there was no way to really know unless he sat down with the guy and picked at his brain. Hell, Garner thought. For all I know, the guy may just like rough sex, tattoos, and piercings. Which basically blew his textbook diagnosis all to hell.

  Garner downed his wine and poured himself another glass. He looked through the galley porthole and saw that the storm clouds had moved on, giving way to the stars and moon now shining brightly in the dark evening sky. The harsh wind had also diminished, leaving behind a light easterly breeze that caused the palms on the tree-lined shore to sway gently to the west. Garner ventured up to the cockpit, opened all the vinyl glass panels, and lay down on the bench seat, enjoying the soft, tepid wind as it passed over him.

  It wasn’t long before the breeze, combined with the gentle lapping sounds against the hull, lulled him into a deep sleep.

  “FUCK!” HAWK mumbled under his breath. He dug into his pocket, threw two twenties on the bar, and took off after his best friend. He moved as quickly as he could without making a scene, but Justin had a head start and maneuvered his compact body through the crowded bar at breakneck speed. With his head hanging down and without stopping to talk to a single person, Justin stormed right past all the acquaintances he’d chatted with earlier and busted through the front doors of the club without stopping.

  By the time Hawk was outside, he had to break into a jog just to keep Justin in sight. Hawk yelled to him to slow down and wait, but Justin either didn’t hear him or was pissed and ignoring him. Hawk picked up his pace again, and when he finally reached Justin, he reached for Justin’s arm. His friend yanked it away and kept going.

  Hawk broke into full-out run, passed Justin, turned, and stopped with his arms wide open. Justin was unable to stop and ran right into his arms. Hawk wrapped Justin up and held him tightly. “I’m so sorry, man,” Hawk whispered into Justin’s ear. “I felt sure something had happened to you, but I never imagined this.”

  Justin made a lame attempt to break free, but Hawk tightened his hold, and the little guy eventually stilled, settling into his embrace. Justin covered his face with both hands and rested his head on Hawk’s broad chest. Hawk actually felt Justin’s sobs before he heard them and held on tighter, hoping to reassure Justin that everything would be okay.

  Duval Street was abuzz, and the tourists seemed to do their best to sidestep the two men embracing in the middle of the sidewalk. To their credit, most of them tried to be discreet, but Hawk quickly realized that even in Key West the sight of a heavily tattooed man with a shaved head and piercings in every orifice holding on tightly to a small muscular sobbing man was a little hard to resist, so he decided to let them have this one.

  Justin eventually started settling down, his sobs slowly changing over to low whimpers, but Hawk continued to hold on fast. He was still trying to catch his breath from running two blocks, and his stomach was churning from the beers he’d downed at happy hour, but Hawk wasn’t going to let that stop him from taking care of his friend.

  When Justin eventually quieted, he slipped his arms around Hawk’s back and squeezed with such strength it forced a beer burp out of Hawk’s mouth.

  The shock of what he’d just done forced Hawk to release his grip. Justin took the opportunity and pushed out of the hold, slapped Hawk across the chest, and started rubbing the burp off his shoulder.

  He looked Hawk right in the eye. “Jesus, Hawk! Not only did you make me cry like a baby in the middle of Duval Street, you burped all over my damn shoulder.”

  Hawk returned the stare, then took a step back and put his hands on his hips. “Well excuse me, your royal highness! My stomach was full of beer, and I had to chase your squirrely ass for two blocks. You’re lucky I didn’t fart on you while I was at it.”

  The look of disgust on Justin’s face almost brought a smile to Hawk’s, but he held it together. “Yeah, you heard me,” he said, nodding repeatedly.

  Justin showed no expression for a few seconds and then suddenly burst into laughter. Hawk tried his hardest to look pissed, but he couldn’t keep a straight face to save his soul. They laughed until they were both doubled over, wiping the tears out of their eyes.

  When they were finally able to get themselves under control, Hawk threw an arm over Justin’s shoulder. “How about hotdogs and french fries to go? I’m starved.”

  Justin smiled and nodded without saying a word, and with Hawk’s arm draped over Justin’s shoulder, they starting walking back toward the marina. They stopped at Hawk’s favorite hotdog cart and loaded up with way too much food and were still laughing when they stepped through the gate and onto the dock.

  Hawk paused briefly when he passed AquaTherapy, and Justin, who never missed a thing, piped up, “Is that his boat? You know we have plenty of food if you want to invite him.”

  “Yes, that’s his boat. And you better stop it, you little shit, before you find yourself taking an evening swim!” Hawk said, continuing on to his boat.

  Justin howled again. “God, this is so much fun.”

  They sat cross-legged on the floor in their sock feet with a pile of empty hotdog wrappers and french fry boxes between them. Hawk had long since unlaced and kicked off his Doc Martens and Justin his Nikes.

  Hawk drew a long sip off his bottled water and twisted the top back on. “So will you tell me about it?” he asked hesitantly.

  Justin didn’t respond. He simply leaned back on his elbows, crossed his feet at the ankles, and stared up at the ceiling as if he were mentally traveling back in time. When Justin dropped his head and looked at Hawk, his face had taken on a solemn expression and his honey brown eyes were dark and cloudy with indecision.

  A long, uncomfortable silence loomed between them until Justin finally spoke, his voice low, shaky, and riddled with emotion. “It happened when I was a junior in high school.”

  Seeing the pain etched in his best friend’s face and hearing the hesitancy in his voice, Hawk quickly raised his hand. “Dude! It’s okay. I can tell this is painful for you. Let’s talk about something else.”

  Justin looked up to the ceiling again without even acknowledging that Hawk had spoken. “I met him the night of my junior prom.” Justin looked back down at Hawk briefly and offered him a weak smile. “I told you I came out of the womb gay, right?”

  “Many
times,” Hawk said, rolling his eyes and nodding while he scooted back against the couch and stretched out.

  “So I’m sure it comes as no shock to you that I was out and proud in high school.”

  Hawk opened his mouth to answer, but when Justin continued on with his story, Hawk figured it must have been a rhetorical question.

  “I was teased and bullied a good bit because of it and even beaten up a few times, but it didn’t take me too long to figure out that if I faded into the background and didn’t draw unwanted attention to myself, I could survive. So when the prom came around, I decided that putting the spotlight back on myself by taking a guy, or even a girl, to the prom was totally out of the question. Besides, the only other openly gay guy in my school was a total dweeb.”

  Knowing Justin as well as he did, Hawk knew Justin would rather stay home then take a dweeb to the prom and that made him smile.

  Justin didn’t seem to notice Hawk’s change of expression and continued without missing a beat. “But I still wanted to go to the prom, so I volunteered to be on the prom committee. That way I could still go, but it didn’t look too weird if I didn’t have a date.”

  “Sounds like a pretty good solution,” Hawk replied.

  “I thought so,” Justin agreed. “The prom was in the grand ballroom of a downtown hotel, and the room was set up with round tables of eight, six students and a teacher/chaperone and his or her significant other. Besides being in charge of the decorations, my job was to stand at the front door and greet everyone and give them their table assignments.”

  “That doesn’t sound like fading into the background to me,” Hawk replied.

  “Yeah, well, I figured no one would fuck with me outside of school,” Justin said sarcastically. “And please keep the commentary to a minimum, this is hard enough already.”

 

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