Mahu

by Neil S. Plakcy

  I was glad my tastes ran to the more mature, at least. I had no interest in Jimmy Ah Wong or any of his counterparts at the Boardwalk. I liked guys my own age, and hoped that would stay the same as I got older. I ended up along a side wall, watching a pool game. The players were good, a Japanese guy in his forties in tight leathers and an Anglo guy in his late twenties in tight jeans and an even tighter black t-shirt.

  “You could bounce an egg on that butt,” a guy next to me said to his friend as the Anglo leaned in front of us to make a shot.

  “That’s not all I’d do with it,” his friend said.

  I smiled and wondered if the boys in the van could pick that one up. I drained the last of my Coke and looked at my watch. It was eleven-thirty. I wondered how late Wayne could get away from Derek. Did he have to wait until Derek was asleep? Could he just walk out?

  My tension evaporated as I got more comfortable in the bar. My hands weren’t shaking any more, and I’d stopped seeing the guys around me as threats. But my adrenaline was running out, and I was getting tired. The music was on a loop, and I was getting sick of hearing Joan Osborne over and over again.

  I decided I’d get one last Coke. I walked over to the back bar, where they were showing the porno videos, and waited until I could catch the bartender’s attention. It took a long time, and I was almost ready to pack it in, but I got into watching the video. By the time he brought me my soda I was sure my hard-on was a beacon visible to anybody who looked, so I slunk over to a dark corner to lean against the wall.

  Then I looked toward the door and saw Wayne Gallagher walk in.

  Show time.

  MEN WILL SAY ANYTHING…

  Wayne Gallagher moved easily through the crowd toward me, and I was glad I’d decided to wait. He walked right up to me and kissed me, putting his right hand on my butt and grinding his thigh into my hard-on. I felt like I was melting and had to struggle to stand up. He stepped back. “Want a beer?”

  “Sure.” He went over to the back bar and the bartender came over to him immediately. “I don’t know if you picked it up,” I said, speaking down into my chest, “But Gallagher’s in the bar now.”

  He came back a minute later carrying two beers. I took one and led the way toward a table in a far corner, where I knew the acoustics were good. I hoped he’d be following me.

  He did. I sat down and moved the other chair so it was right next to mine, and patted the seat. He sat and immediately stuck his tongue in my ear.

  It was like he could read my mind, knew exactly what to do to make me feel like jelly. I had to do whatever I could to retain control. “So where’s Derek tonight?”

  Wayne sat back in his chair. “Home whining. He met this guy who claims to be his grandfather, and he asked the guy for money and the guy said no. So Derek pulled a hissy fit. But you know,” he said, stroking my thigh, “he and I have a very open relationship. He knows I like a little variety in my diet and he doesn’t mind.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I felt the touch of his fingertips on the sensitive inside of my thigh and it was all I could do to keep from squirming. “I know he was pretty broken up when his father died.”

  “Yeah, Tommy was good to him. But I’m not sorry he got whacked. There was no way he was ever going to make me the manager of the bar.”

  “But still, it was a point of honor for him, having to do something about the guy who killed his dad.”

  Wayne gave me a look, and I could see I’d gone too far too fast. “So it was a good thing the guy committed suicide,” I said. “Must have made it easier on Derek.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Derek.” Wayne’s hand crept up to my crotch, where I could feel its warmth against my erection. “Let’s talk about you. What do you like?”

  “Oh, I like surfing,” I said. “And I swim a lot. Read when I can—I like mystery novels. Cooking. I like to barbecue, and help out when we have family luaus.” I could sense I was babbling, but didn’t know how to stop.

  “Not that stuff, silly.” Wayne took the hand that had been on my crotch and ran it up my chest slowly. “I mean, what do you like? Are you a top or a bottom? I’ll bet you like to get it up the ass, don’t you?”

  My throat was dry, and I could feel the sweat dripping down my back, even though the bar wasn’t hot. I picked up my beer and my hand shook so much that I spilled a little on the table. “You’re so tense,” Wayne said. “I know how to relax you.”

  “Maybe we should just talk for a few minutes. I am kind of nervous.”

  “We can talk.” Wayne pulled his hands back and took a drink of his beer. “How long were you a cop?”

  “I was a patrolman for five years, and got my detective shield two years ago. I’ve been stationed in Waikīkī since then.”

  “So you used to wear a uniform?”

  “I still have it. You know, sometimes you have to wear it to department things.”

  “I like a man in uniform. Maybe you can wear it for me sometime.”

  “We’ll see,” I said, and I looked him straight in the eye. He stared back at me, and then licked his lips. I was the one who had to look away.

  And when I did I saw Harry Ho come in the door of the bar. Shit, I thought. I told them all to stay in the truck. He looked directly at me and nodded toward the back of the bar, where the rest rooms were, and I caught on. “I’ve got to go to the little boys’ room,” I said, pushing my chair back. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “I can go with you. Give you a helping hand.”

  “You’ll get yours,” I said, smiling. For good measure, I leaned over and licked around the outside of his ear. “I promise,” I whispered. He shivered a little, and I thought, good, two can play at this game.

  Harry was just in front of me as we walked into the men’s room. Two guys were primping and gossiping at the mirror, and so Harry took my hand and led me into an open stall. It was tight in there, but I twisted around and closed the door. As I did I caught a glimpse of the two queens in the mirror, nodding approvingly. “What’s up?” I whispered.

  “You stopped transmitting,” he whispered back. “Turn around.”

  I turned and he fiddled with my shirt collar. “Jesus, you’re dripping wet. No wonder it shorted.” He pulled a long strip of toilet paper off the roll and wrapped it around the wire. It was a little more noticeable now, but he thought it would hold up better. “I won’t know if it’s working until I get back to the van,” he said. “If you don’t see me again, you’ll know it’s fine.”

  “This is hard, Harry.”

  “I noticed,” he said dryly. “Those pants don’t leave much to the imagination.”

  I couldn’t help laughing, and that made me feel a little better. “I mean talking to him. He keeps, you know, fooling with me.”

  “That’s what he thinks you’re here for. As long as he keeps it up, and I do mean that both ways, that means he doesn’t suspect anything.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I gave him a shaka. “Wish me luck.”

  He gave it back to me. “You don’t need luck. You know what you’re doing. Just do it.”

  By the time I got back to the table Wayne had a pair of fresh beers there for us. “You just want to get me drunk so you can have your way with me,” I said.

  “That thought did cross my mind,” he said, smiling.

  I wondered if I’d be doing this for real soon. Not with Wayne Gallagher, of course, but with somebody else. Would I be cruising these bars, looking for a little fun? Would I duplicate the same pattern I’d had with women, meeting and mating at random intervals, never able to settle down for a long-term relationship? Thinking of that turned out to be just the tonic I needed, relieving the aching hard-on in my pants and letting me steer the conversation back to safer subjects.

  We talked for a while, through another set of beers, and I found myself seeing good things in Wayne besides the dangerous sexuality he oozed. He was smart and witty, knew a lot about books and art and music. I almost found myself hopin
g he was innocent, that it had been two other guys who’d forced Evan Gonsalves to eat his gun. Then I got over it.

  By the third beer Wayne was a little boozy, and I assumed he’d had a few more earlier in the evening. It wasn’t that his speech was slurred, but he lost track of sentences, was easily distracted, and was all over me even more. I finally said, “Wayne, we’re in public here. Save a little for when we’re alone.”

  He leered at me. “We can be alone right here. They have rooms in the back.”

  “I didn’t know that. You mean like a hotel?”

  He laughed. “Not quite so fancy.” He stood up. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  We weren’t getting anywhere—no matter how I tried to direct the conversation toward Tommy Pang and Evan Gonsalves, Wayne steered it right back to the meeting of our two bodies. Maybe in a more private place I could get him to boast more.

  I followed him through the bar, past the rest rooms to what I’d thought was a fire door to the outside. Instead, it swung open onto a narrow corridor. “Gee, I thought this was an exit,” I said. “I mean, being back here at the back of the bar, next to the bathrooms.”

  I hoped they heard that out in the truck. “It’s kind of like a back door,” Wayne said. He put his hand on my ass and said, “I like back doors.”

  “I’ve never done it like that. Is it fun?”

  “Oh, baby, it’s the best,” he said. “I’ll bet you have a tight little ass, too.”

  There were four small rooms on each side of the corridor. The doors to the first two on either side were closed, and in the third on the right a fat biker dude in leathers lay back on a narrow bed with his pants open and his dick out. The room across from his was open and empty and Wayne pulled me in there and closed the door.

  “Alone at last,” he murmured. He pulled me close and we kissed, and I was in big-time danger right then of dropping the whole plan, unhooking the wire and making love with Wayne Gallagher until we dropped from exhaustion. It was an effort to pull back.

  “You’re so sexy,” I whispered to him. “So big and powerful. I’ll bet you could do anything. You could make anybody do anything.”

  “You know I can.” He chewed on my ear and ground his hard dick into my leg.

  “You know how to take charge of a situation. Get things done,” I said. “I’ve seen you with Derek. You’re the real man in that relationship.”

  “Baby, I’m all man, and I’m gonna show you.”

  “You know what would make me really hot,” I said, tonguing his ear. “Tell me how you made the cop do it. How did you get him to kill himself?”

  I undid the buttons on his shirt and sucked first on one nipple, then the other. “Use your teeth, man,” he said. “Make it hurt.”

  “Go on,” I said, between tiny bites. “Tell me.”

  “Oh,” he sighed. “It was that picture you showed Derek. The asshole had been blackmailing us, but we didn’t know his name.”

  “Blackmailing you?”

  “He must have seen Derek whack his old man with the police lock. He threatened to tell the cops.”

  Wayne giggled and hiccupped some beer. “Good thing you aren’t a cop anymore.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I licked a trail down through the blond hairs on his chest. He had a little bit of a belly, but I thought it was sexy. “Derek killed Tommy? I would have thought it was you. You’re the big strong one.”

  He had his hands on my head, massaging it at the same time as he pushed me down towards his dick. “Tommy didn’t know Derek and I were lovers until he came back unexpectedly and found us making out on the desk,” he said. “He pulled out his gun.”

  I unzipped Wayne’s pants and started feeling up his dick through his white jockey shorts. He squirmed and murmured and breathed heavy. “Go on,” I said. “This is getting me so hot. What next?”

  “Tommy was standing in the open doorway, pointing his gun right at me. Derek was freaking out. He got around behind Tommy, looking around for something he could use to hit him. He grabbed the police lock and Tommy went down, half in the office and half in the alley.”

  He shifted around to release his hard-on. I remembered how Fred the bartender had compared it to a beer can. “The cop must have been hanging out in the alley and saw what happened.”

  I pulled his dick out of the slit in his jockeys. I didn’t have much experience, but it seemed huge to me, fat and fleshy and uncircumcised. I licked the side of it and Wayne squirmed again. I had to admit I liked having him in my power. It was as if I could make him do anything I wanted. “So the cop tried to blackmail you?”

  “We were supposed to give him $50,000. But once Derek saw that picture he realized he knew the guy’s name. We went right out to his house after that.”

  I took his dick in my mouth, sucked it a little, then licked it again. When I looked up at Wayne his eyes were glazed and he was breathing heavy. I pulled off him long enough to say, “But Derek was defending you, wasn’t he?”

  I took my mouth off his prick and started licking the insides of his thighs. He shivered and I knew he was sweating. “We’ve been doing some other stuff,” Wayne said. “We didn’t want to have the police messing around.”

  Wayne started moaning and squirming around. “The guy was a prick,” he said. “I got mad at him, and he mouthed off to me. He pulled a gun on us, you believe that?”

  “What a jerk,” I said.

  “So I wrestled him for the gun, and I shot him. Derek blew up at me, called me all kinds of names. I smacked him hard and he calmed down. Then he decided we had to make it look like suicide.”

  He leaned over me as I sucked him, running his hands over my head and down my shoulders. Then I felt him touch the wire. “Hey!” he said. “What the hell is this?” He pulled back from me. “You fucker! You’re wired up!”

  He pulled the microphone out of my collar and then tackled me. “You fucking asshole!” he said. “You think you can put one over on me!”

  We wrestled back and forth, knocking against the walls of the narrow room. He got me down on the bed with his hands around my throat. I was kicking him and trying to get out from under him, but he had a big advantage in weight on me. I felt my ability to struggle wane away. It seemed easier somehow to just give up. In the distance, I heard somebody banging on doors, heard the sound of wood splintering, but it was all far away.

  I think I was just about to black out when the door to the room burst open and suddenly I could breathe again. I looked up from the bed and saw Haoa and Wayne wrestling with each other. At least they were better matched for size than Wayne and I were. And I knew from hard experience my brother’s self-defense skills. He got Wayne backed up against the wall.

  Then I saw Wayne reach for his pocket and I knew, instinctively, that he had a gun in it. I forced myself up off the bed just as he pulled the gun out and flipped the safety off. Haoa had him pinned against the wall and was taking deep breaths, not paying attention. I jumped at Wayne just as he raised the gun toward my brother.

  I went for his gun hand. Wayne kneed Haoa out of the way, catching him at a moment of confusion, and it was him and me again, wrestling for the gun, and then it went off.

  I swear that’s the way it happened. The report of the gun shocked us all, sounding twice as loud in that tiny room. And then Harry was in the doorway, and so was Lui, and Haoa and Wayne both slumped down to the floor, and all I wanted to do was go home for a nice long sleep.

  AFTERMATH

  “Jesus! Get this guy off me!” Haoa said. There was a gaping hole in Wayne Gallagher’s chest, and he was lying on top of my brother and bleeding over everything. From then on, things started happening very fast. Somebody called an ambulance and somebody else called the police, guys whipping out cell phones all over the place. I borrowed Lui’s and called Akoni at home.

  “I hate to drag you out like this, brah,” I said. “But I’m in a little trouble and I need your help.”

  I gave him the thirty-second version of what had
happened and he said, “I’ll call Greenberg and be there as soon as I can. Don’t tell anybody anything.”

  I desperately wanted a beer, sedatives, something, but I knew I couldn’t have anything. I was so wired I couldn’t stand still, and I jumped in to help a drag queen in silvery spandex perform CPR on Wayne. We couldn’t do much for him, and by the time the ambulance arrived he was dead, too much blood leaking out of the hole in his heart.

  The TV crew from Lui’s station arrived right on the heels of the ambulance, and the correspondent taped a segment outside the bar. They got some footage of me and the drag queen, both soaked in Wayne Gallagher’s blood, and Harry let them make a duplicate of the audio tape, which they edited and played on the news the next day.

  The uniforms cleared the bar except for a couple of witnesses, the owner and the bartenders grumbling about the lost business, and the place turned into a standard crime scene. The cops kept me and my brothers and Harry separated, at different tables out in the bar, until Akoni came in and took over.

  “You wanted that shield, now you’re going to have to work for it,” I overheard Akoni say, as he forced Alvy Greenberg to look over Wayne Gallagher’s body with Doc Takayama. He looked sleepy and a little lost, and I got a perverse joy out of seeing his visible discomfort.

  By three a.m. Doc had released the body, and the crime scene techs had finished with the little room. “This place is a mess,” the bartender said, surveying the blood and fingerprint powder everywhere. “I’m not cleaning it up. I pour drinks. That’s what I do. I pour drinks and I listen to drunks complain. I don’t clean up nobody’s blood.”

  They let us go a little while later. “Hell, I know where to find you,” Akoni said.

  Harry, Lui and I got into the back of the van, with Haoa driving. “I’m wired,” he said. “No way I’m gonna get to sleep tonight. You guys want anything?”