Page 10

10

MICHAEL

I t feels like I’ve been shopping for half the day, but after checking my watch I realize it’s only been an hour. The longest hour of my entire life. To top it off, I haven’t found a single damn thing to wear to the concert. Why is it so hard to find something that doesn’t make me look like I’m wearing a flowy women’s blouse? I swear these sizes were made for tiny little people from another planet, not a six-foot-five, thick-chested, behemoth like myself.

I reach for a shirt on the rack. It’s a beautiful shade of blue and it would go well with my eyes. As I pull it free from the rack, another gentleman reaches for it.

“Oh,” he says. “Excuse me, I didn’t realize you had it already.”

Our eyes meet and he gives me the look. The one that says, you’re hot and I’d love to fuck you. Or at least that’s how I interpret it. I feel like I get that look quite often, but I rarely act on it. Too many weirdos. Usually the super attractive guys are all closeted and married with children. I will have no part in any of that. To each their own, but I am no damn homewrecker.

“Here,” I say with a smile. “It’s all yours.”

“Really?” he says, taking the shirt from me and putting it up against himself. “Do you think it looks good on me?”

I nod. “It actually seems like it’d fit you way better than me. I’m way too big for it.” I stand a good six inches taller than he does, and while he’s nicely built, his chest is far smaller than mine. “You know what, though?”

“What?” The eagerness in his eyes is a bit unnerving, but who am I to judge.

“To truly tell if that fits you well enough to spend your hard-earned money, I’m going to need to see you in it.”

A devilish smile crosses his face, and he looks around to see if anyone else has heard what I said. “Meet me in the second changing room stall and I’ll let you see whatever you’d like.” He takes the shirt and makes a beeline for the dressing room a few feet away, before stopping and checking to make sure I’m still watching him.

Satisfied, he hurries into the second stall and closes the door. I don’t hear the latch slide into place and know it’s open for me to go inside too. I let my heart rate settle for a few seconds, but the anticipation is killing me. I don’t plan on actually doing anything with him other than a quick show and tell; the dangerousness of exploring in public makes my knees tremble.

I enter the men’s dressing room and go straight for stall number two, tentatively pushing on the door. I am right, it’s unlocked.

“Come on in,” he whispers.

Pushing the door open far enough to slip inside, I quickly close it behind me, locking it. My heart races. “I don’t usually do this,” I say, telling the truth.

He takes a step closer to me and skillfully slides his hand down inside the waistband of my jeans. His hand wraps around my cock which stiffens immediately. He smiles. “I don’t usually do this either.”

Something about the way he says it makes me question his honesty. But by the way he works my cock and plays with my balls, I no longer care. I start massaging his shoulders as he continues to play with me. We look into each other’s eyes and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. Letting my head fall back, I close my eyes and enjoy the softness of his hands and the way he slides the foreskin over the head of my throbbing hard cock.

I have to undo these jeans , there’s just not enough room . Opening my eyes, I reach for my belt when I notice something in the mirror. He’s wearing a wedding ring. My body instantly stiffens, and not in a good way. I take hold of his arm and pull his hand out of my pants.

“You’re married?” I ask, completely disappointed by the answer I already know.

“Separated,” he says. “Come on, man. You feel so good. I want to make you come.”

I straighten my shirt and jeans before crossing my arms. How dare he hit on me when he’s not even available? What a creep. Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t date married men.”

He smirks. “Who said anything about dating?” His flippant attitude about the entire thing sours my stomach and makes me want to run out of there. Unfortunately, I can’t even speak to him louder than a whisper for fear of getting caught with my pants down, literally.

Plus, the jerk is right. This isn’t dating. How could I have been so careless? I should have asked him his status before venturing into something physical, but it happened so fast. Not to mention, I was way hornier and in need of another man’s affection, more than I would like to admit. “Sorry, man. I’m out.”

I turn and hurry out of the stall, careful not to be seen, and make my way back to the clothing rack. As I exit, a woman pushes by me and stops at the entrance to the fitting rooms. “Dale, are you in there? Hurry up, we have to get some lunch.”

Separated, my ass. What a jerk. Granted, she could be his sister for all I know, but either way he is off limits, and I need to be more careful. It’s a good way to get my heart broken and also hurt others in the process. Not my style.

One last shirt to try. It’s a nice black buttoned-up long sleeve that’s tailored in at the waist. The rack is for big and tall men, but also says fitted. These terms don’t usually correlate in my experience. The clothes either fit around my chest, but make me look pregnant, or they fit my trim belly and not my chest. I go back to an empty changing room and lock the door behind me. Let’s give this one a try.

“Damn,” I say as I slip the shirt over my right shoulder and instantly feel it’s made for my body type. “This might actually fit.” After buttoning the shirt and rolling the sleeves up just so, I examine myself in the mirror.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like something fits me and I look so damned good. “I’d fuck me,” I whisper as I vainly turn from side to side, admiring myself for a change.

Feeling so much better about myself and the upcoming concert, I hurry and purchase the clothes. As I leave the store, my eyes catch a glimpse of the food court, and I can’t help myself. I haven’t eaten all day. I deserve a milkshake and a slice of pizza. Right? It’ll be my little treat and a job-well-done for finding something nice to wear.

But, before I can get there, someone else catches my eye. Walking toward me is the guy I met the other day at the coffee shop. The one who seemed less than interested but had a nice firm ass I wanted to explore. He’s also with the same girl There are two distinct options. I could be a total loser and hide or I could march right up to him and look down into his eyes and ask him out on a date. What will it be, Michael?

Looking both ways for a quick exit, I step into a photobooth and pull the curtain closed. Option number one seems to have won out over acting like an adult male who isn’t scared to ask for what he likes.

I feel so foolish in the way I react to seeing him. What’s wrong with me? Maybe I don’t want to face more rejection or don’t want him to think I’m stalking him. I’m not right in the head.

I peek out of the booth and see they have passed. Without them being here, there’s no reason I can’t still get to the food court, eat my feelings, and get the heck out of the mall undetected. My tummy grumbles with hunger. As I exit the booth though, I notice something odd. I’m not the only one watching them. Who the hell is that guy across the center aisle of the mall?

That’s strange.

Doing my best to look nonchalant and avoid undue attention, I make my way around the potted trees and flowerbeds that divide the upper floor into two sides. After ensuring I’m not being watched, I sit down on a bench directly behind the other man, but I can’t make him out too well from this distance. If I were to get up and move two or three stores closer, I’d be in the perfect spot to see his face, but then I’d give myself away at the same time. Can’t have that.

The man is definitely watching the two of them, and they are none the wiser. I stand up and move in his direction but stop short. The guy has his hand in his hooded sweatshirt pouch. Does he have a gun? I’m too far away to tell for sure, but he’s definitely concealing something in there. He seems twitchy, and I can’t risk allowing what I feel is about to happen. That’s it, I can’t wait any longer to make my move.

“Hold it right there,” I say loud enough for him to hear me but not to call too much attention and make a scene. There’s still a possibility I’m completely misreading this situation. I’m risking my badge doing something like this, but, at the moment, I don’t give a fuck. Something isn’t right, I can taste it.

He turns slightly in my direction and bolts for the exit but slips and falls to the ground. A split second later, he’s back up and running. I give chase, but he’s fast. By the time I round the corner, he’s already outside and who knows where.

Fuck.

I retrace my steps to see if he left anything behind when he fell. There’s a little puddle of water around the potted plant he slipped on, having been freshly watered. I stoop down and look in the pot. Next to the base of the plant is a business card. I pick it up and turn it over in my hand. There isn’t a person’s name on it, but the company logo says, Seas the Day Country Club.

What are the chances this weirdo is involved in the killings at Who’s Your Caddy? Coincidence? Very well could be, but my heart says otherwise.

I shove the card in my pocket and turn around and go back to see if the two being stalked are still there. I see them window shopping and laughing. There’s a part of me that wants to turn on my heels and get the hell out of there before I do something stupid, but the little voice inside my head says, what do you have to lose?

They’ve made their way down the escalator, so I follow. After they’ve reached the main floor, they stop and are deep in conversation. Should I interrupt? Why not?

“Crazy seeing you two here,” I say as I get off the escalator. The shocked look on their faces tells me I need to hurry up and try and be way less weird. I reach out my hand to greet them and smile.

“It’s nice to see you both again.” Now what do I say? I lift my bag and say, “Just doing some shopping for the upcoming Lady Dame concert.”

Their eyes light up like I’ve just said something exciting. “You scored tickets? To Lady Dame?” Patrick asks.

I nod. “Yep. Got lucky. My credit card offered pre-sales about an hour before the general public.”

“That is incredible,” Tina says, bumping Patrick’s elbow with her own. “You were dying to go to her comeback tour.”

Patrick recoils from her elbow but nods. “You’re a lucky man.”

Shoot your shot, Michael . Just do it. “I have an extra ticket… you know, if you’d be interested in going with me?”

A squeal erupts from Tina and her eyes go wide. We both turn our attention to Patrick. What’s he going to say?

“No,” he says. “I couldn’t. I bet you have a significant other simply dying to go, and who am I to get in the way?”

I clear my throat and shake my head. “Honestly, I don’t.”

Tina looks from me to Patrick and back. “Michael,” she says, swatting at my arm. “I think what my friend here is trying to determine is… if you had a significant other, would they be a he or a she?”

“Oh,” I say. I hadn’t even thought about that. This entire scenario could be quite awkward for Patrick since I didn’t really give them a clue as to my orientation. I’ve been told by so many people they had no idea. That, I didn’t ‘act gay’. Whatever that means. “Definitely, without a doubt… he .” I shift my attention to Patrick.

He smiles and there’s a twinkle in his eyes that hadn’t been there moments before. He’s even more attractive now than when I’d noticed at the coffee shop. The way the light seems to glint off his green eyes and light brown skin. His dark, black hair is too short for curls, but I can tell if he lets it grow out a little, he’d have some gorgeous wave to it.

“So, what do you say, Patrick?” I ask. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to Lady Dame’s It’s Never Too Late , comeback tour?”

“I would love to.” He blushes and looks away. Gosh, he’s cute.

“Fantastic,” I say. “Let’s exchange numbers so we can make arrangements. The concert is coming up in a few short days, you know.”

We exchange numbers and Patrick and Tina say their goodbyes and walk away. My belly tingles with excitement. It’s been far too long since I looked forward to a date with anyone I haven’t met on a dating app. This could be what I’ve been waiting for.

Then my cop brain kicks in, usurping my ability to think solely with my dick. Something nags at my inner thoughts, bringing me back to the man who was watching Patrick and Tina. Had I stopped a crazy person from hurting them? And if so, who was it and why the hell would he be after these two? They seem perfectly normal to me. No reason to think they’re involved in something shady or illegal that could put their lives in danger.