The Redemption of River

by Eli Easton

  Harrison had a great deal of difficulty meeting River’s gaze. He would for a few seconds, but then he’d glance down to River’s lips or his shoulder or even out the window. But he followed the breathing instructions, and he seemed to relax. River decided to call it good.

  He asked Harrison to remove his clothes and lie down on the futon on his stomach, with just a towel over his behind. River closed his eyes and meditated for a moment to give Harrison privacy. He prayed for compassion and for healing energy and light. Then he started the massage.

  Harrison relaxed deeply under his hands, groaning now and then. His skin was thin and fragile, and his muscles limp and soft, so River kept his touch light and used lots of oil. When he worked down the chakras of the spine, the energy there was weak and dull, stagnant as a sink full of dirty water instead of the swiftly moving current it should be. River’s palms grew hot as he had Harrison breathe into them at each chakra, and he poured his own energy outward, trying to stir that weak flow. He spent quite a bit of time on it, and the energy did seem to be less sluggish at the end.

  River couldn’t help comparing the feeling of this session to working with Brent McKay, the way the energy had sparked and built between them. As if he’d needed a reminder of how rare that was.

  But he shouldn’t think about another client now. It wasn’t fair to Harrison.

  He had Harrison turn over and he massaged the front of his legs, arms, chest, and soft belly. There was no movement from under the white towel, and River left it in place. He sensed Harrison would just as soon not have attention paid to his lack of an erection. Instead, River made the massage as sensual as he could through other parts of the body, silently calling up the sexual energy in his client, and sending out loving, healing light.

  When he finished, he sat back on his heels and looked up to see fat tears rolling down Harrison’s face.

  “Are you all right?”

  Harrison sniffled. “Oh, yes.”

  “Let me get you a glass of water.”

  “My wineglass should be on the coffee table,” Harrison said shakily. He opened his eyes and wiped at them, tried to sit up.

  River helped Harrison up to sitting and into his robe, then to his feet. He seemed very weak from the relaxation and deep breathing, so River kept an arm around his waist and led him to the sofa. Harrison picked up his wineglass and drained it.

  He sighed and wiped his eyes again. “Sorry for the waterworks. It’s just been so long since I’ve been touched.”

  “Energy work often releases a lot of buried emotions. It’s healthy.”

  Harrison gave a quivery laugh. “I’ve outlived so many friends. Survived the AIDS epidemic in New York in the eighties, you know. Had a friend murdered for being queer. Others have simply passed on a respectable timetable. And then there’s me, alone at the end of the world.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” River said. Surely, Mr. Emmanuel had some friends left? Family?

  “Ah well. Getting old sucks monkey balls, as they say. But the alternative isn’t a barrel of laughs either.”

  “How do you feel after the massage?”

  Harrison took a deep breath and appeared to check in with himself. “Marvelous. Ten years younger. You have magic hands, my boy. And I think I see what you mean. It’s possible to have, if not a sexual encounter, certainly a sensual one, even without cooperation from Captain Happy.”

  River laughed. “Captain Happy gets far too much glory. The brain and heart are sensual organs too.”

  “Right you are. Now let’s see. I want to give you a tip.” Harrison got up and looked around, as if for his wallet.

  River stood too. “No tip. You paid for our session through the clinic.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” River folded up his futon. “If you’d like to book another session, you can talk to Dr. Halloran or Loretta, the receptionist.”

  “My dear, nothing would make me happier in this world. I hope it’s not too awful, having to touch an old wreck like me?”

  River stopped fussing with his bags, stood, and looked Harrison in the eyes. “I don’t know what your beliefs are, but I believe life is a cycle. Where you are now, I will be one day. And where I am now, you have been before and will be again, in another life. There’s no good or bad about where you are in the cycle. It just is.”

  Harrison blinked at him. “I wasn’t nearly so generous at your age when it came to the elderly. I guess that’s what they call ‘karma.’ Now I’m the dirty old man I used to mock.”

  He walked River to the door. After opening it, Harrison took River’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you. You’ve made me very happy.”

  “You’re welcome, Harrison. Have a great week.” River forced a smile despite a lingering sadness for the old man.

  As he took the elevator to the ground floor, he had the fanciful idea that Harrison Emmanuel was like Rapunzel, alone in a tower. Only it was unlikely there would be a prince who’d come and save him.

  And what about me? I don’t have a prince. I don’t even have a tower.

  But he did have a job interview. And who knew where that would lead?

  Chapter 9

  April, 2019

  First Hill, Seattle

  River

  “Double chai macchiato!”

  “Venti Winter Wonderland!”

  River made drinks and smiled at customers. He moved fluidly around the other barista, Maddy, a twenty-something girl with jet-black hair and three piercings in her face. After just two weeks working at Adrenaline Junkie Coffee, they were as synchronized as dancers. Maddy always took the easier orders like the lattes. River liked the complicated ones. He only wished they’d let him make his recipe for chai instead of using that gross prepackaged stuff.

  He made the chai as ordered, though, and passed it to the customer with a warm smile. It was an older woman, and he made eye contact, being sure to really see her. She gave him a cheeky smile. “I must say, the scenery has improved in this place just recently.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Have a wonderful day, ma’am.”

  There was a lull, so River turned his attention to cleaning off the steam nozzles. He overheard Justin say, “Oh, hey, Mr. McKay!”

  The name caught on River’s mind like a hook. He glanced toward Justin at the register.

  Brent McKay stood there. Just as River realized it really was his ex-client, recognition dawned in Brent’s eyes too. For a brief second, Brent smiled, his expression glowing with surprise and pleasure. Then the situation seemed to hit him in the face. The smile vanished, and he turned beet red.

  Justin was oblivious. “Oh, Mr. McKay, I don’t think you’ve met River, our gorgeous new barista. River, this is the big daddy. I mean the owner, Mr. McKay!”

  Justin thought he was being funny, but Brent just stammered. “Oh. I. Uh—” He looked like a man about to be shoved off a very high cliff.

  To put him out of his misery, River slipped out from behind the counter and walked over to him. He held out his hand. “Hi, Mr. McKay. I’m River Larsen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Brent blinked and shook River’s hand. “Nice to, um, meet you too.”

  River gave Brent an amused quirk of his eyebrow. What did he think? That River would say, Oh, I know Mr. McKay! I massaged his penis.

  As if he knew exactly what River was thinking, Brent rolled his eyes at himself a little and gave a chagrined smile. His alarming color faded.

  The handshake had gone on too long, so River gave a gentle tug to disengage.

  “River has the most amazing ideas for new drinks,” Justin gushed. “I told him maybe he’d get a chance to talk to the owner. You should let him bend your ear someday, Mr. McKay.”

  A woman with a baby strapped to her chest walked up to stand behind Brent at the register. Brent gave her a smile and stepped aside. He glanced at River and jerked his head. Follow me.

  “Did you want a coffee, Mr. McKay?” Justin called out after him
.

  “Not right now, thanks.” He led River to an open area near a window, out of earshot of Justin, before turning to face him. “You’re a barista?” he asked, his voice low.

  River rubbed his hands on his apron, feeling self-conscious. He’d done many jobs over the years, and he wasn’t ashamed of any of them. He didn’t believe in classism. “I worked as a barista in L.A. It’s been a few years, but it’s not something you forget.”

  “Oh. I thought you were a full-time, um, therapist. The tantric thing. You know. Surrogate. That.” Brent’s cheeks flushed again.

  “I don’t have enough clients right now for it to be full time.”

  “Oh.”

  Brent’s nervous awkwardness might have been amusing or even endearing under different circumstances. But River felt a spark of hurt. So he was good enough to give Brent McKay a massage, but not good enough to work in one of his coffee shops? Maybe River had been entirely wrong about the guy.

  “If this is uncomfortable for you, I’ll quit.” River reached back to untie the apron.

  Brent grabbed River’s arm. “No! God, no. No, I—” He took a deep breath and got a determined expression. “I’m sorry. I’ve really bungled this. That’s not what I meant at all.”

  River just studied him, unsure. Maybe he should go. It was a bit weird to be working in a coffee shop owned by a previous client. And then it hit him. What are the odds?

  “I didn’t know you owned a coffee shop.”

  “I own eight, among other things. But yeah, coffee shops were what built our portfolio. Kathy and I.” He visibly swallowed as a glimmer of pain flashed in his eyes. “We bought our first one in 2002. We were lucky. With the population boom and everything.”

  Brent gave him a real smile then. Those mossy green eyes softened. “I’m actually really glad to see you, River. I was just shocked, that’s all. Sort of a two-worlds-collide kind of moment.” He chuckled self-consciously. “But please. Please don’t quit on my account. You must be great if Justin hired you. He’s got a lot of attitude, but he’s one of my best managers.”

  The hand on River’s forearm was still there. As if a switch flipped, energy flowed between them. A warm surge washed through River, coming from Brent’s hand—and his eyes.

  And River thought again, what are the odds?

  So Brent owned eight coffee shops. That sounded like a lot. But in the entire Seattle metro area? Eight was a drop in the bucket. And then too, River had applied at a dozen places. Yet here he was, standing in a shop with Brent McKay, working for him.

  River didn’t rule out the idea of coincidences, but this felt like a very deliberate tap on the shoulder from the universe. Maybe he wasn’t through with Brent McKay just yet.

  “All right.” He let go of his apron tie. As River’s arm moved to his side, Brent withdrew his hand, almost reluctantly.

  “Good. Welcome to McKay Enterprises.” Brent gave a modest little tilt of his head.

  “Thanks. If it does get weird for you though—”

  “It won’t. I’m not here that often. Like I said, Justin is a good manager. But he mentioned something about you having ideas for drinks? Would you like to sit down?”

  Brent looked around for a free table, but River had been facing the doorway as they talked, and he’d noticed more people coming in. The line at the register was now six deep and Justin was shooting him confused glances.

  “It’s kinda busy. I should help Maddy.”

  Brent looked around, surprised. “Oh, yeah. Okay. We’ll, uh, we’ll talk another time. Later. No rush.”

  He was still nervous. Now it was kind of cute. “Sure. Nice seeing you, Mr. McKay.”

  Brent made a face. “That sounds strange. You can still call me Brent.”

  River just blinked. If all the other employees called him Mr. McKay, then he would too. But he didn’t bother correcting the man who was now his boss.

  Chapter 10

  River

  Every day that week, Brent McKay came into the shop. River worked seven to noon, Thursday through Sunday. Brent showed up around ten a.m. He’d get a coffee and something to eat, nod hello at River, sit down, and work on his laptop for about an hour. Then he’d pack up his stuff, say goodbye to the staff, nod to River again, and leave.

  It was almost always busy, so River just kept working. And Brent never indicated that he wanted to talk. But sometimes River would look over and find Brent watching him. Brent always went right back to his work, as if it hadn’t happened.

  On Sunday, Justin commented on it when they had a momentary lull. “I hope my ass isn’t on the line.”

  “What?”

  Justin nodded his chin toward Brent. “Boss man has been coming in every day. It makes me nervous. Like, does he not trust me right now? Did a customer complain? Did someone find a short and curly in the egg salad?”

  River polished a steam nozzle. “He doesn’t usually come in every day?”

  “Uh, no,” Justin said in a duh tone. “Usually, I can hardly get ahold of him when I need to. I mean, I’d leave a message and it might be a day or two before he got back to me. Weeks have gone by without him so much as darkening the door. Now here he is. A Regular Reggie.”

  River hummed thoughtfully. He’d wondered. He hadn’t seen Brent at the shop in the first two weeks we’d worked there, and now, suddenly, he came in every day. But it seemed arrogant to imagine it was on his account.

  “Have you heard the whole story about Mr. McKay? It’s, oh my God, it’s so tragic!” Justin adopted a gossipy tone and lowered his voice, as if to be sure Brent couldn’t hear him. He was a cute guy, late twenties, slightly built with red hair and a hyper, over-the-top attitude. “His wife died of cancer a few years ago, and the man was crushed. An absolute wreck. I felt so bad for him. And I’m like, ‘Oh, sweetie! Of course you don’t have to call me back just because our milk distributor went out of business, and I’m buying half-and-half at Walmart! I don’t mind at all.’”

  Justin put a hand to his chest and feigned an overly sympathetic expression. Then he rolled his eyes at himself. “I’m such a pushover. But yeah, he’s been through a lot, so we McKay Enterprises managers have just had to deal.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Totally. His wife was so young too. Well, obviously. He’s not exactly ancient himself.”

  River shouldn’t gossip with Justin, but he couldn’t help himself. “What was she like? Mrs. McKay?”

  Justin tilted his chin and considered it. “Petite. Blonde. I’d say on a Doris Day to Rita Hayworth scale, she was way more Doris Day. Wholesome. Perky. But really sharp, business-wise. She did all the payroll and ordering.” He gave River a dirty look. “Yes, I like TCM. Don’t judge. Those forties glamor queens will never be matched, in the humble opinion of moi.”

  The description of Kathy McKay made River’s gut ache and a sad and anxious throb in his heart, as if her being “wholesome” and “perky” made her early death even worse. Or perhaps hearing about her from Justin just made her more real. More perfect.

  “Someday Mr. McKay will walk in here with a new trophy wife on his arm. He’s such a catch—gorgeous, rich, nice…. Why don’t they make them like that in my flavor?” Justin shook his head and looked River up and down. “The good ones are always straight.”

  A guy came up to the counter seeking a refill on his Americano, and Justin went back to work.

  River didn’t bother to correct Justin’s assumption that he was straight. The guy flirted enough as it was. But his words gave River a pang. Someday, Mr. McKay will walk in here with a new trophy wife.

  Yeah, probably true, especially since River had helped Brent past his sexual blockage. He was probably dating someone right now. He’d get married again. He was the loyal type. Lucky woman.

  Someone else’s Brent McKay.

  River acknowledged the pang of jealousy he felt and released it. What a useless emotion that was. You couldn’t own another person. And even if some couples chose monogamy
, River and Brent would never be that couple—or any couple at all.

  The following Friday morning, Brent came in at ten. It was the first Friday in May, but you’d never know it. The pouring rain and chill outside meant business was slow. After Justin had greeted him with “Hey, Mr. McKay!” and took his order, Brent looked right at River, who was at the coffee station.

  “Um, River, grab yourself something to drink and join me. I’d like to hear about your drink ideas.” Brent’s tone brooked no argument. He sounded like the boss. But River could tell from his eyes he was nervous.

  River nodded and made a quick cup of herbal tea, ignoring Justin’s raised eyebrows. When he came out from behind the counter, Brent was seated at a small table by a side window, as far from the register as you could get. River sat down opposite him, feeling a flutter of anticipation.

  They stared at one another. Brent looked good. There was still some tiredness around his eyes, but his color was warm, and he seemed less drawn in the face, a bit more filled out. “How have you been feeling?”

  “Good. Really good. Lots more energy. I’ve been running again.” Brent smiled, but he still sounded uncomfortable.

  “That’s great.”

  Brent broke eye contact first. “How about you? I mean, how do you like working here? At our First Hill branch?”

  Maddy brought over Brent’s coffee and put it on the table. She turned so Brent couldn’t see her and made a funny face at River, sticking out her tongue and crossing her eyes, before walking away. River gave her a grin and waited until she was out of earshot before replying.

  “I like it. Nice location. Good people. Maddy and Justin are fun to work with.” He rotated his mug on the tabletop. “But I’m probably not here for long.”

  “Mmm,” Brent acknowledged, looking down at his cup. “Are you planning on leaving the area or just Adrenaline Junkie Coffee?”

  “The area. I’m house-sitting a place on Lake Union until September. When that’s up… well. We’ll see.”

  “That’s too bad.” Brent looked up into River’s eyes. “I bet…” He glanced sideways as if to make sure no one was listening. “I bet Expanded Horizons would miss you if you go.”