by J. D. Walker
Let It Beatle Box Set
By J.D. Walker
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2017 J.D. Walker
ISBN 9781634864459
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Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
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This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
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Let It Beatle Box Set
By J.D. Walker
Love, Love Me Dude
Happiness Is a Warm Bum
Can’t Buy His Love
Norwegian Woody
Crumbs Together
He’s So Heavy
All My Loving
Chapter 1: Tory and Maury
Chapter 2: Murphy and Austin
Chapter 3: Wheeler and Gregory
Chapter 4: Rafe and Woody
Chapter 5: René and Serge
Chapter 6: Bill and Thorn
Love, Love Me Dude
To all my readers.
Thanks for hanging in there with me on this unbelievable ride!
I met Wheeler Ridley in a sandbox when we were both three years old. We grew up together and attended the same schools, played on the same teams and shared friends. In my mind, we were everything to each other. Until high school.
Suddenly, the boy I’d thought my best friend in the whole world was the popular kid and didn’t have time for me anymore. He left me behind in favor of the superficial fame of the jock world, while I watched from the sidelines. I felt betrayed.
It happened at a time when I realized something was different about me, too. I liked boys—and Wheeler especially, it turned out. I loved him, but he’d broken my heart. How could he not love me, too?
I started to care a lot less about school, became sullen and uncooperative, eventually getting kicked off all my teams. My grades suffered, and nothing my parents threatened me with made a dent in my psyche.
Relegated to the slackers and delinquents, I watched Wheeler work his way through the entire cheerleading squad and then most of the girls in his age group. He was voted prom king senior year, and was also class valedictorian, while I was in danger of not graduating.
The possibility of having to repeat senior year finally got my attention. I decided that letting a selfish, arrogant bastard dictate my life choices was beneath me, and I needed to grow up. So he didn’t love me. So what.
I pushed all thoughts of Wheeler’s abandonment deep down inside, focused on improving my grades, and managed to graduate high school—barely.
My parents were actually relieved when I left home that summer. I’d become something they couldn’t understand. I had to find my own way.
For almost a year, I backpacked across the country, working odd jobs and taking the time to figure out who I was and what I wanted out of life. By the time I found a place to settle down, I felt I could legitimately claim that I’d put Wheeler Ridley behind me.
* * * *
Fourteen years later, I owned—well, I still owed the bank plenty—a motel near the beach, not far from the freeway. It was on the edge of a medium-sized tourist town that tended to be deserted in winter and overcrowded in summer, as is the way of such places.
I worked seven days a week and was always on call. I didn’t mind. When I needed a break, I asked Maury Landrum, a local, to help me out. He also worked seasonally with me during the busy months from April to October.
Maury was eight years my junior and a very kind and conscientious human being. He helped his sister Sheila out a lot and watched over her triplets like they were his own, working as many jobs as he could in town when they were available to make ends meet and provide a little extra for all of them.
We got along well together, and though I knew he’d be interested in something more between us, I held back, not sure if I wanted to go there with anyone. The hurt I’d had as a teen in the throes of my first crush was bad enough, and one-night stands were the pits. I’d given those up a long time ago. Maybe I was meant to be a bachelor.
I’d met some interesting characters during my time as caretaker of these thirty units. It kept life far from dull. When things were slow, I caught up on all the sleep I lost in the busy season and worked on necessary repairs.
The units were basic, cheerful, and clean, with cable and Internet service. I didn’t run a sleazy rent-by-the-minute joint. It was also LGBT-friendly and was advertised as such. Spring break marked the beginning of busy season, and brought out my vigilance for pranks and stupidity, but it never usually went that far.
As it was the end of April right now, reservations had picked up, and Maury worked the front desk while I ran around checking on rooms and doing last minute jobs. Sheila helped me with the housekeeping once the kids were in school.
One evening while I was winding down from a busy day and looking over reservations, I came across a name that brought back unpleasant memories I’d thought lost in time. There could be any number of people in the world with that name, right?
I hoped it wasn’t him, please God, but at the very least, if it was, I should be able to handle my childhood crush’s presence without much of a fuss. I was an adult, as well as a businessman, and he would be here for only two days. I would be too busy to worry about things that should be bygones, at least for me. He likely wouldn’t remember me, anyway. And why did that thought hurt?
* * * *
Friday afternoon, the day of Wheeler Ridley’s arrival, I worked on the computer at the front desk, trying to rectify an issue with the motel website. The high school kid in town who normally helped me was out of town, so that left me to somehow figure things out.
In the middle of swearing a blue streak, the bell above the door tinkled, announcing someone’s arrival. I put on my most welcoming smile and turned to face my guest. And froze.
It was indeed Wheeler Ridley in the flesh, now an adult and looking like he’d stepped out of GQ magazine. His light brown skin and thick black hair were a testament to his Latino heritage on his mother’s side, but the green eyes were his dad’s. Though no more than a few seconds had passed, it felt like a lifetime to me.
I cleared my throat and said, “Welcome to Misty View Motel. Do you have a reservation?” I thought if I played it cool, I could get through this.
“Ah, yeah. It’s Ridley. Wheeler is the first name.” He adjusted the bag strap on his broad shoulder and waited as I clicked around on the computer screen. Good thing he couldn’t see my fingers trembling on the mouse.
Okay, so he didn’t remember me. Why would he, anyhow? He’d forgotten me once we reached high school. It was a long t
ime ago, I reasoned, and while he looked the same, I’d filled out a bit from the skinny kid I used to be and the long, Goth hair I’d favored in school had been replaced by a buzz cut.
“Okay, Mr. Ridley, if I may see some ID and your credit card, please.”
After handing them over, I completed the process in the system, then handed everything back to him, along with the keys. “Room 120. Go right when you leave here and it’s at the end of the corridor. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Thanks, I’m sure I will.” He smiled at me and walked to the door. Before he left, Wheeler said, “You look familiar. Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
“Probably just coincidence,” I said. He nodded and left.
I sank into my chair behind the desk and covered my face with both hands. Why did I lie? Apparently Wheeler Ridley still had some power over me, all these years later.
* * * *
Saturday morning, after making sure the complimentary breakfast was displayed to my satisfaction, I changed into a pair of old shorts and headed to the beach for a quick run. It was early and the sun was just coming up over the horizon. I had placed a sign at the desk to let guests know I’d be back in half an hour.
It was a little cool but not uncomfortably so as I set out on my three-mile run up and down the beach. It was how I kept in shape and kept the stress at bay. If a day was really bad, I’d go for another run at night, assuming I had the energy to do so.
I ran and ran, the sand beneath my sneakers yielding a little with each step as I kept a steady pace. I was the only one out here, and I knew this stretch of beach like the back of my hand.
On my third mile, a saw another jogger heading toward me. Curious, I kept on going until we neared each other, and I could make out Wheeler Ridley’s face. Great.
Just act normal. “Morning, Mr. Ridley,” I greeted him and kept on going. As I ran farther away, I realized the expression on his face had been peculiar, as if he was still trying to place who I was in his past. I also hadn’t missed the quick once-over he’d done of my body as we’d passed each other. That was weird. I put it out of my mind and finished my dawn run.
Once I was showered and dressed in jeans and a shirt, I went to the lounge to check on the food, replenish the coffee and make sure everyone was taken care of, those who were awake at this hour.
Mr. and Mrs. Gottfried were having a quick weekend escape, just because they could. Or at least, that was what they’d told me when they’d arrived yesterday morning.
“Good morning, Tory. This looks wonderful,” the missus said, and I thanked her.
“Planning to go into town today?” I asked. Most guests liked to check out the kitschy shops along with the beach.
“That was our plan,” said Mr. Gottfried. “Eleanor here wants to buy some souvenirs for our brood at home.”
“Well, you’ll find just about anything you desire. Have fun.” I smiled at them, then returned to the front desk.
Maury would be on shift around nine o’clock, which would give me time to finish some paperwork and stock the housekeeping cart with fresh linen.
A little while later, as I scrolled down the computer screen, the front door opened and I looked up. It was Wheeler. Schooling my face into a polite smile, I asked, “How may I help you, Mr. Ridley?” I noticed he’d showered and changed as well, and the light green cargo pants and white polo shirt he wore were an excellent foil for his skin, something I wished I didn’t notice. He had a pair of Aviator sunglasses dangling from his long fingers.
He walked up to the desk and leaned on the counter. “I know you, I’m sure of it. Where’d you go to school?”
“Small town.” I changed topics. “What can I help you with, sir?”
Wheeler studied me for a few seconds, and I stared back at him, my skin feeling hot and tight. Eventually he said, “I wanted to know if I could extend my stay a week. I’m checking out business opportunities around here, and I like what I see.” There was a hint of innuendo in the way he said that, but I let it go, since there was no way he could be gay. He’d screwed females in high school, after all.
Wouldn’t that be just lovely, having Wheeler around all the time? I hoped his search would be a bust. None of those thoughts showed on my face as I searched the system for availability. Damn it, I had an opening. I could lie, but I needed the business.
“You’re in luck,” I said with false cheer. “I’ll extend your reservation through next Sunday, if that works for you, with the appropriate fees, of course.”
“I appreciate that.” He gave me a smile that tried to melt my insides, but I willed them to remain ice-cold.
“Will there be anything else?” I asked, pretending to be busy with the computer so I wouldn’t have to look at him and give myself away.
When I didn’t hear a response after a few seconds, I glanced up and saw Wheeler watching me. “I don’t suppose you’d be free to have a drink with me this evening?”
My eyebrows arched in surprise. “I beg your pardon?” I must have heard wrong. He couldn’t…
“This is an LGBT-friendly motel, so I figured there was a high chance you might be gay, and single.” He smiled. “Am I wrong?”
“Um…”
“Not gay?” he probed.
“No,” I replied.
“Not interested?”
“You’re not gay,” I blurted, then pressed my lips together. Idiot.
He laughed at that. “Uh, yes I am, since birth. I just pretended I wasn’t until I couldn’t ignore it anymore, in college.” He shrugged as if to say what can you do?
I digested his words in silence. That explained a lot, actually. “Well?” he prompted, eyeing me expectantly.
“Well what?” I replied.
“That drink?”
I decided prudence would be best—and safest—for my heart. “I don’t go out with the guests in my establishment. It’s unprofessional.”
“I see.” Wheeler tapped a finger on the counter, then stepped back. “I guess I’ll have to find a place to setup shop around here so we can go out on a date.” He winked at me, then left through the front door.
I felt like I’d been hit by a train.
* * * *
Sundays were usually slow to start, for the guests. I went for a longer run this time, the need to get away from the fantasies I shouldn’t be having about a guy I should hate driving me insane. I pushed myself, speeding up until I was drenched with sweat and I hurt all over.
By the time I stopped, I was panting heavily, bent over with my hands on my knees as I tried to recover from six miles of pounding. I would pay for this later, I was sure of it.
Straightening after a minute, I stretched carefully, then took a quick dip in the ocean. It felt great on my overheated skin. After sufficiently cooling down, I walked back to the motel, thinking how strange it was to be hit on by Wheeler Ridley—who was gay, oh God—and he didn’t even know who I was. It would have been perfect had it happened when we were kids. But after all the turmoil I’d gone through…
I shook my head and headed to my room on the other side of the motel, almost running into the devil himself. Wheeler was dressed for a run, and I ignored his long legs and firm chest as I said a brief good morning and continued on my way. I could feel eyes on my back, and I knew he was likely watching my ass.
Maybe I should buy longer, looser fitting shorts instead of the thigh-high old school ones I always wore. A T-shirt would be good, too. I went inside and took a long, hot shower, ignoring my hard cock as I got ready to start my day.
Later that afternoon, as I worked in the back office, Maury knocked on the door. “Come in,” I called out, and he entered.
“Everything all right?” I asked before looking at him. I frowned at his expression. “What’s wrong, hon?”
He sighed and ran a hand through cute, curly blond hair that fell into his gray eyes. “Sheila’s got the flu, as do the kids, so she won’t be able to do the housekeeping this week. I’ll be helping with th
e kids and other stuff so I don’t know how much I’ll be around. I’m sorry, Tory.” He was agitated, and I couldn’t have that.
“It’s okay, Maury. It’s not like she can help it.” I leaned back in my chair. “Take the week off, look after your sister and the triplets and I’ll see you next week, all right? We’re busy, but it’s not so bad that I can’t handle it. I’ll just sleep less, is all. Par for the course, you know?” I smiled, hoping he’d smile, too. Sometimes he was just too serious for a guy his age. He needed to have more fun.
But Maury still looked concerned. “You sure, Tory? I can come in for an hour or two in the evenings—”
“Don’t worry about it. Just do what you have to. If I’m desperate, I’ll let you know.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“You saying I work too hard?” I challenged him.
“I’m saying that the dictionary has your name as the definition under workaholic. You need more in your life, Tory.” His steel-colored eyes said he’d like to be the “more,” but I left that alone.
“Go on. Give Sheila and the kids my love. I hope they all get better soon. Don’t you go getting sick, either,” I warned.
Maury finally relaxed. “I won’t. Constitution of an ox. Thanks, Tory. You’re too good to us, you know? I really appreciate this. We all do.” He hesitated, then kissed me quickly on the cheek and ran out the door. I touched the spot with my fingers. Tory was sweet, but…
I shook my head and got up to man the front desk. I’d finish paperwork later. Good thing I’d already done some housekeeping stuff earlier in the day.
That evening, I laundered the linen and worked on my computer. I made a plan as to how to keep up with all the duties that were usually shared between three people. I could at least forward any motel calls to my cell phone, and I would leave a note for guests to give me a ring if they needed anything while I was running around. Cleaning, I’d fit in throughout the day.
At two in the morning, I finally finished my self-assigned tasks and slept for a few hours. The alarm went off at five o’clock, which seemed to come too soon. I dressed quickly, forewent my morning run, and got the complimentary breakfast setup while I stocked the housekeeping cart for my rounds at eight o’clock.
