Lost and Found

by Rick R. Reed

  “You’re right. Sorry. Sure, I’m happy to be in your picture. Where do you want me?”

  Oh, Flynn had so many answers to that question, none of which were what he actually said. “Just hop up there and look through the doughnut.” He pulled his iPhone out and also got up on the big rectangular platform upon which the doughnut sculpture sat.

  He watched Mac’s ass as he made his way to the other side of the doughnut. He couldn’t help himself. And when Mac gazed out at him through the hole, Flynn was enchanted. For some reason, Mac’s face, framed by the black granite, stirred something in Flynn, inducing a powerful yearning to kiss Mac. He knew he needed to put the urge away, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to put it away forever.

  He took the picture. “One more. This time smile, okay?” Flynn took three more pics in rapid succession. He knew he would treasure these and hoped there would be more to come, but even if there weren’t, he’d always have these. He snapped one more pic of Mac as he looked down at Barley, who was sniffing at his feet, for good measure. “How about one of you and Barley? You could hold him on your lap, at the edge of the platform.”

  Mac reached for the phone. “How about I take one of you guys like that?”

  Flynn knew Mac was telling him “Enough with the pics of me” and maybe even that Mac was a little unnerved by it. They were still so new to each other. Maybe he thought it was a little weird and stalkerish that Flynn wanted to photograph him.

  So he let it go. He picked up Barley and sat down at the edge of the platform. Barley settled into his lap. Flynn plastered on his brightest smile, even though there was something sad and yearning inside him.

  As Mac got into position to take the photo, Flynn noticed an older man come up behind him, observing. The guy put him in mind of Greg Louganis as he was today, with silver hair. He wore a pair of pressed khakis, a muted plaid-print shirt, and a cardigan sweater, which Flynn thought was a bit much. The evening was cool, but it was still summer. Flynn would estimate the temperature in the midsixties.

  Mac took only a single shot, looked at it on the phone’s screen, and mumbled, “Great.”

  The silver fox over Mac’s shoulder said, “The sculpture’s called Black Sun.”

  Mac turned to see who’d spoken. Flynn noticed Mac’s shoulders rise in an almost imperceptible display of tension.

  “I just thought of it as the big doughnut,” Mac said, his voice cold.

  The man laughed. “You would. But no harm in learning the names of things, right? The proper names, anyway.”

  “Right. Thank you,” Mac said. He turned back to Flynn. “Flynn, this is an old acquaintance, Phineas Blake. He teaches at UDub.”

  Flynn looked from the older man to Mac and could almost see a crackling line of tension, like electricity, between them. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Phineas continued, “The sculpture is made of black marble. It was designed by Isamu Noguchi in 1969.”

  “Actually, I think it’s granite, not marble. But thank you so much for the lecture!” Mac exclaimed, and Flynn was a little stunned. Sarcasm didn’t look good on Mac. It simply didn’t jibe with his personality.

  Phineas seemed not to have picked up on the sarcasm, or chose not to. “My pleasure. Do you guys have any questions? I know a little bit about the artist.”

  Flynn hopped down from the sculpture platform. “I’m gonna wander over to the reservoir with Barley.”

  Mac put up a hand to stop him. “Just hold on. I’ll come with you. We’re almost done here.” He turned back to Phineas. “I do have a question.”

  “Delightful. An inquiring mind….”

  “Where’s Luz?”

  Flynn wondered who Luz was. He’d read these two as a pair of gay men who’d once been involved and who now barely concealed their contempt for each other. But the mention of Luz made Flynn wonder if Phineas here had a wife or a girlfriend, which wouldn’t necessarily remove the possibility of a romantic relationship between Mac and him, but it lessened it—a bit.

  “I got rid of her. With my schedule—I’ve attained tenure, and so my teaching and research have become increasingly demanding—I just couldn’t take care of her anymore. So I took her to a shelter. A purebred like her, I was certain someone would snatch her up.”

  Okay, so Luz isn’t a wife or girlfriend, Flynn thought.

  “You got rid of her? You took her to a shelter?” Mac’s voice rose with alarm.

  Phineas nodded, and for the first time, his careful composure crumbled just the tiniest bit. Flynn could see it in the way he no longer met Mac’s gaze.

  “I had no time for a dog, Mac.”

  “You could have given her to me,” Mac said.

  “What? It never crossed my mind. You could never stand her.”

  Mac shook his head. “I think it was more the other way around. But seriously, I would have taken her.”

  Mac stared down at the ground, and Flynn thought he appeared to be truly hurt.

  “You didn’t have to give her away—and to a shelter.”

  “No worries,” Phineas said cheerfully. “I’m certain someone would have been glad to have her.”

  Flynn’s heart ached too, and he didn’t even know the dog in question. Didn’t they euthanize the majority of dogs left at a shelter? He shuddered.

  Mac took a step closer to Phineas and lifted his hand a little. “How long ago? Is it too late?”

  “Oh, it’s been over a month.”

  Mac’s hand dropped. So did his head. “Then she’s gone,” he whispered, barely audible.

  “As I said, she was a three-thousand-dollar dog. So you needn’t worry about her fate.”

  Mac nodded. “I gotta go.” He moved toward Flynn—and Barley. “Come on,” he whispered urgently to Flynn, taking his arm. Flynn might have been excited a bit by the touch, but he could almost feel Mac’s despair transferred in it. It wouldn’t have been right to derive some sort of erotic charge from it.

  “Mac! She’s okay. Really!” Phineas called behind them.

  Mac just shook his head and quickened his pace toward the reservoir, not looking back.

  “Mac?” Phineas tried again.

  They hurried away, and finally Phineas gave up. Flynn didn’t look, but he figured Phineas had walked away too. In the opposite direction.

  They stood quietly at the edge of the reservoir. Flynn had heard rumors that guys hooked up on the other side of it once it got dark, but the moment wasn’t right for such thoughts. Barley sniffed around, reading the messages left behind by countless other dogs.

  Finally, once they stopped and Barley plopped down in the grass, Flynn asked, “So what was his deal?”

  “He and I used to be a couple. Sort of. Long story.” Mac’s gaze met Flynn’s, a plea in his eyes. “Can we just go home now?”

  “Really? Don’t you want to stay for the sunset? Have you ever seen it? It’s really gorgeous from up here. With the views of the Needle and Elliott Bay and the Olympics—”

  Mac cut him off. “I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood anymore.”

  “Sure,” Flynn said. “Okay.”

  They returned to the car in silence, and in silence drove most of the way through Capitol Hill. It wasn’t until they were heading north on I-5 toward the exit for Mac’s place that he spoke.

  “Do you know what a Peruvian Inca Orchid is?”

  “Some kind of flower?” Flynn asked.

  Mac chuckled. “No. It’s a dog. It’s what Luz was. Is. I hope. She was a hairless breed. Dee thought she looked like a monster, and I wouldn’t go that far, but I do know a lot of people thought she was, at best, interesting, and at worst, ugly.”

  “I may have seen one on TV.” Flynn took the exit at NE Sixty-Fifth Street to head toward Green Lake.

  “And Luz? She wasn’t pretty on the inside either.”

  “Oh?”

  “I mean, there was just something aloof about her. Like, the most aloof dog you’d ever want to meet. She was cold.”

  Mac
was quiet, and suddenly Flynn heard a little hiccup come from him.

  He pulled over to the curb on Sixty-Fifth Street. “Are you crying?”

  Mac wiped angrily at his eyes. “Whatever. She didn’t have to die, though. Didn’t he realize what would happen when he left an ugly, foul-tempered dog at the shelter? She probably didn’t last long. Who would want her?”

  “Oh, you never know, Mac. That guy Phineas might have been right. I’m sure they played up how rare and valuable she was at the shelter so they could find her a home. I bet someone picked up on that.”

  Mac looked at him and drew in a quivering breath. He smiled. “It’s nice of you to say that. I appreciate it. I doubt that poor Luz found her happy forever home anywhere but in heaven, but it’s still very kind of you to offer a little hope, Flynn.”

  “Hey, it’s just what I think. You should keep an open mind.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know what became of her. I guess I have a choice. I can choose to think she was euthanized, or I can choose to think she’s running around in someone’s backyard in Ballard or wherever right now, happy as can be. And she would be too! Getting away from that master-bastard.” He laughed. “I choose happy for Luz. Whether it’s reality or not, it’s all I know, and I’ll try and keep the faith that Luz is in a good place.” He turned his gaze toward the windshield.

  “That’s a good way to think,” Flynn said softly.

  They were quiet until Flynn pulled up, with good parking karma, directly in front of Mac’s place. Flynn switched the engine off. In his mind this was where he looked over at Mac with longing and their heads would come together, irresistibly, in a kiss.

  But Mac just said, “Well, thanks for the outing.” He turned toward Barley in the backseat. Even though he was snoring, Mac called, “Be a good boy!”

  He turned back and gave Flynn a tepid smile, which made Flynn’s heart fill with tenderness. Not only did Mac possess incredible looks, but he was kind and caring and sensitive. What kind of person mourns a dog even he described as a “monster” and “cold”? And he hadn’t even seen the dog, the way Flynn understood it, in months. But yet here Mac was, obviously shaken by the very high probability that poor Luz was dead.

  “You want me to come in?” Flynn asked. He wasn’t being totally selfish. He thought Mac could use the company.

  “Nah. I kind of want to be alone.”

  “You really loved that dog, huh?”

  “Who? Luz?” Mac laughed. “That’s the thing. I could never stand her. And the feeling was mutual. The funny thing was—Barley was the only one who could get along with her. When we put them together, he seemed to bring out something in her that I never saw otherwise. She became a puppy. She actually seemed to experience joy when she was with him. And the feeling was mutual.” Mac laughed a little. “Those two seemed like a couple—so happy together. I mean, Luz being Luz, it took her a little while. She played hard to get, of course. But Barley’s like me—easy.” Mac shrugged. “But it’s kind of hit me and hurt me that Phineas would just dispose of her like trash, because she was inconvenient. To me, when you take in a dog, it becomes your family. You don’t just toss out a family member because your work has become too demanding. You find a way.”

  Flynn’s heart clenched just a little, and his spirits sank into the long shadows outside the car. He knew Mac was talking about Luz, but his words could just as easily apply to Barley. At least in the sense that Barley had been family to Mac. Of course he had! And if Mac could be so disturbed by learning of the demise of a dog he hadn’t even cared much about, imagine what he went through when Flynn took Barley away from him.

  Jesus. Here’s this guy I feel like I’m falling for. And here we are without a date, a kiss, or anything remotely even indicating any romantic progress and I’ve already broken his heart. Oh, the prospects for this are good. Flynn wanted to just lay his head on the steering wheel in defeat. Instead he tried to summon a smile for Mac. “You’re right.”

  “You wouldn’t ever do that to Barley, would you?”

  “What? Give him up? No! Of course not. I was devastated when he got away from me at Discovery Park and I couldn’t find him. I was in a black funk for months… seriously.”

  Mac squeezed his shoulder. “That makes me feel a little better.”

  He turned to peer at Barley in the backseat again, and Flynn could imagine what was going through Mac’s head, the longing and the sadness at losing family.

  “Well, I should get inside. I have a hot date waiting for me with three guys.”

  “Oh?” Flynn felt an irrational, out-of-the-blue stab of jealousy.

  “Yeah. Stephen King and Ben & Jerry. They’ll make me feel better.” Mac grinned, but the expression didn’t come up to meet his eyes.

  Mac opened the car door and started to get out. Barley awoke in the backseat and gave out a little whimper. Without looking at the dog, Mac said, “See you soon, buddy. No worries.” He leaned into the car and said to Flynn, “Thanks again. Until Friday, then.” And he allowed himself one more longing glance at Barley and closed the car door.

  As Mac was walking toward the house, Flynn made a decision. He hurriedly pressed the button to lower the window on the passenger side.

  “Hey, Mac! Hold up!”

  Mac turned and looked at him curiously.

  “Listen. I have a really busy week at work, what with a new play opening this weekend. Um, I wondered if you could do me a favor?”

  “I guess so. What do you need?” Mac took a few steps back toward the car. He leaned over to peer inside.

  “It’s just that I’m not gonna have all that much time for Barley, just this week. And I wondered if maybe he could stay with you—only until the weekend, of course.”

  It was all a big lie. Most of the work around this weekend’s opening was already done and had been for the past couple of weeks. They were coasting at the office now, waiting to get started on the next production coming their way, a touring company of a Broadway show. But he really thought giving Mac this time with Barley would lift his spirits.

  And, as much as it pained him to not have the dog with him, Flynn knew Mac needed him a little more right now.

  “Ah, never mind. It’s asking too much,” Flynn said.

  “No! No. I’d love to have him. No worries. You wanna leave him with me now?”

  As though he understood the conversation going on, Barley stood on his hind legs in the backseat, paws resting on the armrest, panting, tail wagging. He looked out the window toward Mac’s house.

  “Yeah, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “Trouble? Are you kidding?”

  Flynn exited the car to take Barley out. He leashed him and handed the lead to Mac. “You’re a lifesaver, bud. I can pay you whatever you think’s reasonable.” And Flynn was serious. He knew Mac couldn’t possibly make much. The money would come in handy.

  “Oh God, no. You don’t have to pay me. It’s really my pleasure. Dee will be thrilled to have him back for a few days too.”

  “Well, if you change your mind about payment, just let me know.” Flynn turned toward the car.

  When Flynn opened the car door, Mac called out. “Thanks, Flynn. And just for the record, I know what you’re doing. And I appreciate it.”

  Flynn felt caught. Heat rose to his cheeks. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “C’mon! If you’d wanted me to take care of Barley this week, you’d have asked me right away. What you’re doing—it’s sweet of you, man. I’m touched.”

  Flynn waved his hand, dismissing the gratitude and the praise. “I just needed someone to take care of the dog for me. That’s it. And I do appreciate it, Mac.” He jumped in the car, shut the door, and quickly started the engine. He wanted to pull away before he was tempted to take advantage of Mac’s good assessment of him and his motives.

  He really had left Barley with Mac because he knew Mac could use the time with the dog, especially in light of what he’d just learned about
Luz. Whether that could work in his favor in getting on the right side of Mac—or on top of him or underneath him—he didn’t want to be so craven as to consider at the moment.

  Right now, he thought as he pulled away from the curb, he had done a good thing.

  And that was enough.

  Chapter 11

  “DEE? YOU up?” Mac called as he came in the front door with Barley scrambling to get ahead of him. “You’ll never guess who I brought home!” Dee would be so happy to have the dog back, even though she might not show it. Barley had become her pet as much as Mac’s.

  “Dee?” Mac stooped down to take Barley’s harness and leash off so he could be free to roam again. Predictably he went immediately for the kitchen. It was a little odd that there was a light on out there, since Dee had always been a bit of a nag about turning lights off when you left a room. “I’m not made of money,” she’d said, more than once.

  “Dee?” he called again, thinking maybe she was watching TV. Wasn’t Chopped on tonight? As he neared the living room, there was silence and no Dee.

  Mac looked down at his watch. It was only a little after nine. Odd for Dee to be in bed this early. She was often up later than he was. “The older I get, it seems the less sleep I need,” she’d once told him. Mac had rolled in after many a night at the bars on Capitol Hill to find her at the kitchen table, the newspaper folded just so as she worked that day’s crossword puzzle. She’d usually have NPR, something classical, going on in the background on the radio. He’d envied her contentment and peace at times.

  He thought maybe she’d gone out, although that seemed to be happening with decreasing frequency lately. But there’d been a time when she and her friend Cora, from over in Fremont, would head out to a movie at the Guild on Forty-Fifth.

  He shrugged, heading toward the kitchen.

  He stopped in his tracks when he heard Barley’s mournful howl. It caused the hairs to stand up on the back of Mac’s neck and his mouth to immediately go dry.

  Barley howled again, baleful.

  Mac hurried into the kitchen.

  Dee was sprawled on the floor, a jar of raspberry jam shattered beside her. The jam’s red color was alarming. At first Mac thought it was blood, thought Dee had been murdered.