Page 13

13

PATRICK

M y shift finally ended about fifteen minutes ago. It’s been a really long day, and I can’t wait to go home, even if it’s to an empty apartment. I count my tip money as I walk out to the car, careful not to stray from the dull lights of the parking lot. While I work in a decent area of the city, it always freaks me out a bit to walk out to my car with a pocket full of cash. My mom’s voice rings inside my head, crowing on about people jumping me for money and a free ride inside my asshole if they manage to kidnap me in the process. Her bedtime stories are terrifying, to say the least.

I’ve been so distracted by my own thoughts all day. Will I enjoy my time with Michael, or should I pursue Jake? It’s a never-ending debate that seems to get worse as the night wears on. I tried most of the day to look for Jake, but couldn’t find him. Maybe he was busy with one of the customers. Smiling, I think about the awesome drinks he makes with the Hawaiian rum our boss imports specifically for Mrs. Thornbird. It’s all good though, I need to get home anyway. No more fantasizing about men.

Patting the roll of bills in my pocket I think, Damn, I made a lot of money tonight . From tips alone, I’ll be able to afford groceries this week. It’s such a great feeling, and I only had to endure one indecent proposal this shift. Pushing the money out of the way, I fish for my car keys out of my over-filled pocket.

“Where are you running off to?” Jake says as he rushes up behind me.

My heart races at the suddenness of his appearance. I flinch and turn in his direction, visions of my mother’s fairy tales flashing through my mind. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Oh, sorry, man.” If Jake’s disarming and seductive smile had the dexterity of fingers, my pants would already be unbuttoned and lying on the ground around my ankles. How any man can bring me from the brink of a panic attack to wanting to suck his dick in a single heartbeat is beyond me.

Jake’s wavy dark hair hangs in his face just enough to make me want to brush it out of the way before kissing his full lips. I swallow and blink away the budding fantasy. “Is everything okay?” I glance behind Jake. “No one’s chasing you, right?”

We both laugh, but this is the first time Jake has shown this much interest in me, and I’m curious—why now? He’s never chased me down in the parking lot before. Maybe my mom’s nighttime terror stories are going to come true?

“I asked Tina for a ride home, but she doesn’t get off for another thirty minutes or so.”

“And she suggested I take you home?” I cock my head to the side. That’s weird, considering Tina and I had a bet on who could land Jake in bed first.

Jake shifts his weight. “Not really. She asked me to wait for her to get off work, but it’s been a long day and I just want to go home.” He scratches the top of his head. “She was really pushy about it too. Kept doing that weird thing with her bottom lip.” He feigns a disgusted shiver.

I laugh. That’s Tina’s way of flirting. She licks and bites her bottom lip while making googly eyes at her prey. Bitch is trying to win the bet at all costs. Needless to say, it rarely works and, more often than not, lands her in the Human Resources office explaining herself.

“She’s like that,” I say. There won’t be another chance for me to be alone with Jake for the foreseeable future, so it’s my shit or get off the pot moment. Plus, the way Jake’s dimpled cheeks call to me, I couldn’t have told him no even if I’d wanted to. “Get in.”

“You’re the best. Thank you so much. My car is a piece of shit and wouldn’t start this morning.” He hands me a ten-dollar bill. “Here’s something for gas and your time.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking the money and putting it in my pocket. “Where do you live?”

“On Westland, just past the Mormon church.”

I blink a few times in silence as I try and envision where he lives. I put the key into the ignition and start her up. “I don’t have a flipping clue where that is.”

“I figured as much. You’re in luck. I’m only two miles down the road and I’m great at giving directions.”

“That’s not far at all.” I shift into drive and pull out of the parking space.

“I’d have walked, but after… you know, the murder at Who’s Your Caddy… well, it’s had me a bit spooked.”

“Same here,” I admit.

“Really?”

“Yeah, plus my apartment was broken into.”

“Dude,” Jake says. “Did the cops figure out who did it?”

“I didn’t really report it. My neighbor, of sorts, said some guy who smelled good broke in, but there wasn’t anything taken. Figured, either she was making it up or… I don’t know what I thought.”

Jake looks out the side window in silence for a few moments. “I’m really sorry, man. That’s scary.” He looks spooked, the color has drained from his face from what I can tell in the crappy lighting.

My heart melts a bit seeing Jake, usually self-confident and unflappable, look vulnerable and worried about something that concerns the regular people of the world. “I can’t believe it happened around here… murder. What are the odds?”

“Murder can happen anywhere, but you’re right… Who’s Your Caddy is just up the freeway an exit from here.” Jake turns to me and says, “Did you know the victims?”

“I don’t really know much about what happened, but any time there’s something scary happening near me I tend to freak out a bit. If you knew my mom, you’d understand.”

“From what I’ve been told, it was two guys. One was a client, older man, and a staff member. Rumor has it they were involved with each other.”

“Involved?” I ask. “Like they were hooking up?”

Jake nods. “Apparently, but you know how rumors go.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. I’ve been hit on, groped, and had the nastiest shit said to me while working with these folks.”

“You’ve been groped?” Jake says, his face darkening. He shakes his head. “People really piss me off sometimes.”

Jake’s concern touches my soul. Usually when I tell people about it, they say, get in line and then go on to tell me something equally as awful that’s happened to them in the past.

I smile. “Thank you, Jake. I appreciate you saying that.” I pull the car out onto the main drag and work it up to speed.

“There’s something about these rich, old, white dudes using their money, power, and influence to get away with so much shit. If you and I were to inappropriately touch someone at work, we would be thrown out on our ear. They’d probably call the cops on us. We’d be sex offenders or something.”

“Very true,” I say. “The system is rigged to favor those with money for sure.”

“I guess so. Is it too much to ask for the world to be fair? Even if it’s just for some things?” Jake shakes his head. “Turn left up here.”

I often feel the same way. It's hard to wrap my head around it sometimes, but I try not to dwell on the negative too much. Turning the car as directed, I want to change the subject. I've got the hottest guy at the club in my car and we're discussing a murder and how unfair the world is. Talk about a cock block. "Anyway. I'm sure there's nothing we can do about it."

"Maybe... I guess." He sighs and looks out the window.

"It's sure dark on this street," I say. There isn't a streetlight to be seen. I squint to make out the street sign we passed but can't quite tell what it says.

"Make the next right and then an immediate left. I'll be the third house on the right."

I chauffeur us to his destination in silence. During the short drive, I keep glancing over at the gorgeous man in the front seat. Flashbacks to Ricky Diaz at senior prom make me start to sweat. I'm nervous and have no idea what else to talk about but have no trouble envisioning Jake's naked body pressed against mine. I glance over once again, but this time he's looking back at me with a gorgeous smile and twinkly eyes.

I pull into Jake's driveway and stop the car. "Here you are."

Jake turns and grins. My tummy flutters.

"You're the best. Would you like to come up for a drink or… something?" He arches his eyebrow in a naughty, suggestive way.

My pulse accelerates as Jake reaches over and grabs my hand.

"This might seem crazy, but I've always felt a connection with you."

"You have?" I blink rapidly trying to make sense of what's happening. "I didn't even know for sure you were gay."

Jake laughs. "I'm not into labels."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to…"

Jake leans over and kisses me, soft and gentle on the lips. "Very nice. Your lips are so smooth."

I swallow hard. "Thanks… lip balm." I cringe inwardly. Don't be lame.

He kisses me again. Jake's hand rubs slowly up my thigh. I cup his head in my hand and squeeze the back of his neck. Our tongues touch, sending a tantalizing tingle through my eager body. I close my eyes and the car fills with the sound of heavy breathing and the soft moans of intensifying need and pleasure. I can't believe this is happening.

After a few minutes pass, I sit back in my seat, panting for air. I'm hard as a rock. Jake reaches over and wipes my chin dry with his thumb. "You had a little of my spit on you. Sorry about that."

I wipe my left cheek dry. "Wow."

"Yeah." Jake pulls at the crotch of his jeans, no doubt uncomfortably snug. I search Jake's eyes for a sign, anything to tell him what to do or say next. "I should probably get going." Jake thumbs out the side window. "I wouldn't want the neighbors thinking something fishy is going on in here."

"For sure." I play it cool, rolling my eyes. "Neighbors."

He gets out of the car and shuts the door. He smiles and rubs the back of his neck as our gaze locks. Then without another word, he waves and turns to walk away, adjusting the crotch of his pants as he does. I lower the window and say, "Jake. Wait."

He stops and turns. "Listen, Patrick. Please don’t be upset." Running his fingers through his hair, he sighs. "I know I made the first move and now I’m backing away like a jerk, but we work together, and I don't think this…" He gestures between us. "You know what they say… never dip your pen in the company ink."

"For sure," I say. "I was going to ask you not to say anything to anyone. Seas the Day is a gossipy place, and I don't want it to be weird for us when we work the same shifts," I lie. My heart hurts and the tears are building, making it hard to swallow. I need to get out of here before he sees me lose it.

"Absolutely." He waves goodbye and walks away without looking back again.

My throat grows tighter as I watch him walk around the back of his home and disappear from view. "Fuck my life," I say, putting the car into reverse. Backing out of the driveway, I whip the car around without squealing the tires. "You're never going to find the right guy." I turn the wheel and press on the gas. I can still feel Jake's lips pressed against mine. I wish there'd been more between us—not just a quick make-out session that went nowhere. I wipe a tear from my cheek and check the time. "Dammit."

It's getting late and I'm in no shape or mindset to drive home and be alone, but what other choice do I have? An internal debate begins to wage. Should I tell Tina what happened? She's my best friend, but it's embarrassing since Jake didn't want to pursue anything further and he also didn't seem to want anyone to know. "Phone, call Tina."

The phone doesn't even ring before she picks up. "Patrick… what's up?"

"I made out with Jake."

"You slut."

"I know."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Did you have sex?" Tina's voice is so loud and high pitched the speaker on my phone rattles. "Was his cock as big as I’ve always envisioned?"

"I said we made out."

"You're going to need to be more specific. Making out to someone like Devon could mean he was impregnated."

I laugh. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow, but you have to promise to keep this to yourself."

"Deal."

"Swear to it," I demand.

"I swear on the life of Katniss Everdeen in the critically acclaimed movie, The Hunger Games , but not Mocking Jay Part One . We both know that was trash."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, bestie," Tina says.

I kiss into the phone. "Love you, bestie."

Once I disconnect the call I continue to drive toward home, merging onto the freeway. If I manage to get home before Diamond calls it quits for the evening, she'll be able to warn me if someone has broken into my place again.

I push on the gas. My nerves are shot. I shiver, thinking about how my apartment has been broken into and how there was a murder not far from work. I shake my head. "It's fine. There's nothing to worry about."

Brake lights ahead signal the continuation of the unrelenting traffic problems Los Angeles is known for—the sign I need. Exiting the freeway a few miles from my neighborhood, I pull over to the side of the road. My hands are shaking. Something is wrong, but I don't know what it is. An inner voice is telling me not to go home.

I pull out my phone and call Tina.

"You're scaring me," she says. "You never call me after we say goodnight. Are you dead in a ditch?"

I smile. "No, but if I was, you'd be the first person I call."

"What’s going on? I’m almost home from work. Do you want me to meet you somewhere so we can talk about how big a slut you are?” The genuine concern in her voice gives way to the lighthearted naughty shit-talking tone she always gets when we're discussing sex.

I can't help but smile, already feeling better. “I was hoping I could come over and watch movies… maybe spend the night?”

Tina doesn’t respond right away. I’m not worried she’ll say no, but I know she’s trying to figure out what’s really going on with me. “Stop at the gas station on the corner and get some popcorn and wine coolers. It’ll be like old times.”

By old times, she means years ago when we first met. Neither of us had a steady job and drank two-buck-chuck on the weekends to forget our problems or at least pretend they didn’t matter.

“This reminds me of the time you came back from that audition,” I say. “What was the movie? You remember.”

She laughs. “Oh, yeah that shitty-ass movie? I’m glad I didn’t get it. Would have typecast me for life.”

Wonder Woman , I remember. “For sure, bestie. You got lucky on that one.” Secretly loving the movie that broke my friend’s heart is tough, but it has to be done.

“Get your ass over here and don’t forget the peach wine-coolers.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” I say and then pause. “Bestie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, what are best friends for?”

“See you in fifteen.”

I pull back onto the street and turn on my favorite eighties radio station. The stylings of Cyndi Lauper further work to soothe my frayed nerves. That’s when I run the stop sign. “Shit… sorry.” I wave to the car I’ve cut off. Poor guy has screeched to a stop and honked. I deserve that.

“Hold it together, Patrick.” If the damn killer doesn’t get me, my poor driving skills and inability to concentrate on two things at once, will.

The following morning, I rub my eyes and curse the cheap alcoholic drinks Tina and I downed in earnest the night before. Stretching my arms overhead, I yawn, turn over, and flinch.

“Why are you staring at me?” My heart races at the creepy look in Tina’s eyes.

“Oh, don’t clutch your pearls, my friend. I’ve been sending you extra sensory perception nudges to wake up since six o’clock.”

I rub the sleep from the corner of my eyes. “And what time is it now?”

“Eight.”

“You’ve been staring at me for two hours?”

“What’s important is you’re awake now.” Her whispered voice takes on a conspiratorial tone. “Guess who’s been texting you for the past couple of hours?”

Flopping back over, I frantically look for my phone. It’s not where I left it the night before. I shoot a glance over my shoulder only to find Tina waving the phone in the air.

“Patrick… I did not read your texts even though you gave me your passcode.”

“I’ve never given you my passcode.”

“Gave might be an inaccurate word for it, but I have it and that’s what really matters because I didn’t look.”

Arching my eyebrow, I cock my head to the side. “Then how do you know who’s been texting me?”

“ESP?” she says, making her voice small and innocent.

Right. And I’m a well-adjusted twenty-five-year-old with a fantastic love life and an award-worthy acting career. Without a word, I lock eyes with her until she cracks.

“Okay, fine. After the fourth text, I got curious and turned the screen on and saw the missed messages and calls notifications.” She hands me the phone. “But I didn’t read them… I would never invade your privacy like that.”

“Jake texted me,” I say. “But there’s a couple missed calls from another number here I don’t recognize.”

“Michael Borne. Or should I say, Detective Borne? Mister hot body with a gun called you… multiple times, bestie. You know what that means?” She wags her eyebrows and shakes her shoulders like she’s trying to jiggle her boobs at me.

“Wait? What? He’s a detective?” I say. Damn, that’s hot. “And how do you know his number?”

She taps her chin with her finger a few times, feigning ignorance. “Okay fine. Full disclosure. I saw the number and called it from my phone. I wanted to protect you in case it was a telemarketer or something.”

“You spoke to him?”

“No, silly. When the receptionist answered, I hung up like any completely normal, rational, and well-adjusted person would have.”

“Well-adjusted?” I quirk a brow.

We share a hearty laugh at the description.

“I’m going to get up and take a shower so you can call Mister Policeman. I just have one question. Why would Jake be calling you? Especially after you left things like that last night?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Maybe he wants to make sure I haven’t told anyone about what happened between us? Or maybe he woke up and realized how he couldn’t possibly live without me?”

Tina laughs. “Now you’re being silly.” She gets up from the bed and looks herself in the mirror above the dresser, mussing with her hair. “If you don’t want to pursue things with Jake… would it be okay if I do?”

Whatever happened to bros before hoes? Or chicks before dicks? Not sure which one actually applies best in this situation.

“Is that what you really want?” I ask.

She nods. There’s a sadness in her eyes that tugs at my heart. She could do so much better than him, but there isn’t a chance in hell she’d believe me if I told her as much.

“Go for it,” I say. “He’d be lucky to have you.”

“Aww, really?” She twirls on her toes, stopping in time to face the mirror and blow herself a kiss. “Should we go get some breakfast?”

“That sounds wonderful, but let me find out what Michael wants first. If he needs me to do something for him, I’ll have to do it. He is the police after all.” I want to retract my choice of words, but they’re already being misconstrued by her.

As she steps into the bathroom and dramatically turns, holding onto the door, she smiles. “Oh, yeah. You’ll do something for him all right.”

I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Touché.”

Tina cackles and closes the door. The clunk of the water pipes as she turns on the shower gives me the go-ahead to make the call. I click the missed call notification and connect it. The butterflies in my belly flutter with each passing ring.

“Los Angeles Police Department, how can I direct your call?”

“Detective Michael Borne, please.”

“Please hold.” Jazz music fills the line. I close my eyes and wonder what Michael wants from me.

“This is Detective Borne. Who’s calling?”

Fighting the surging need to hang up the phone, my voice squeaks.

“Hello? This is Borne… who’s calling?”

“Patrick,” I manage to say.

“From the coffee shop? Hi, Patrick.”

“Hi.”

“Sorry to have called you so early… and from my work number, force of habit sometimes.” He chuckles. “I wanted to confirm our date and see if you wanted to go out to dinner before or after the concert?”

“Sounds great,” I say. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but maybe we should eat afterwards?” This way I wouldn’t risk feeling bloated and weird during the concert of the year.

“Perfect,” he says.

“Michael?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You didn’t mention you were a detective. I don’t know why it seems unusual for me, but it kind of does.” I don’t know what I’m trying to get at. Not like he should have led with his occupation, I certainly don’t.

There’s a pause on the other end. Had I said something wrong?

“Sorry, Patrick,” he says. “I hadn’t thought too much of it, but to be honest, I don’t usually tell my dates about my job until we actually go on the first date.”

Duh, makes total sense. “For sure,” I say. “Like I said, I don’t know why it seemed weird to me.”

“I hope it’s not going to be a big deal? Do you dislike the police?” His tone is playful, but it still gives me pause.

“Oh, no. I don’t dislike anyone, really. Pretend I didn’t say anything and we can discuss it during our date tomorrow evening.”

“Great,” he says. “What time should I pick you up?”

I’d planned to meet him wherever we decided so I could escape if needed, but something about him seems safe, old-fashioned, even. “If the concert is at seven, you’d probably want to pick me up by six. Traffic on the way to the venue from my place is a shit show.”

“Six it is.” He pauses for a moment, and I don’t interrupt the silence like I normally would have. “Patrick?”

“Yeah?”

“I am truly looking forward to spending time with you,” he says.

My heart melts at the sincerity in his voice. “I am as well.” Tina turns off the water and begins singing old one-hit wonders from the 80s—my cue to get off the phone.

“Well,” I say. “I should get going. I’ll text you my address and see you at six tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” he says and hangs up the phone.

The bathroom door flings open, and a cloud of steam billows out into the bedroom. Tina stands wrapped in a towel with another one tied up around her head like a fabric beehive. “Tell me everything. Does Michael want an accurate accounting for your whereabouts? Take down the exact details of your story? Frisk you for weapons of mass pleasure?”

I laugh to the point of tears. “Bestie, you are truly the best thing in my life. You know that?”

She dives onto the bed next to me, nearly losing the towel in the process. “I feel the same way about you.”

“I think we should go stuff our faces at Woofles and Wags at ten.”

“That place is exclusive. I heard they have a line out the door every day… even when it’s raining.”

“Ugh,” I say. “You’re right. If only we were famous Hollywood elite.”

“I heard they filmed an episode of The Real Househusbands of West Hollywood there. Ever since, it’s been the in-place to eat towering stacks of dog-bone-shaped waffles. Although, that’s a lot of carbs for someone like me trying to get into acting.”

“Now that you mention it, I do remember that episode. It was pretty dramatic, if I remember right,” I say. “Where should we go then?”

“Oh, I know,” Tina says with an earsplitting squeal. “Let’s go to Eggtastic Breakfast King. The guy that owns it donates money to homeless animal shelters.”

“But didn’t he get in trouble for using canned cat food in some of his dishes?”

“Yes, but I have a list of what not to eat, plus there won’t be a line.”

How could I argue with that kind of logic?

We laugh before I jump out of bed and rush into the bathroom to take a shower. Before closing the door behind me, I turn and say, “I’m going to have to use the emergency change of clothes I leave here. I won’t have time to go home and freshen up.”

“Bottom drawer of the dresser.” She points to the huge dark antique dresser against the wall. “You’ve got a change of clothes and a fresh uniform in there for later.”

“Perfect.”

“Get ready. I’ll go make us some coffee so you can be fully caffeinated for breakfast.”

I close the bathroom door and smile at myself in the mirror above the sink. The giddiness I feel is only tempered by the idea that what I’m going to do once again puts myself out there and potentially gets me hurt along the way.

I turn on the shower and strip naked. As I step into the flow of steaming hot water, I shiver and goosebumps spread across my arms and legs. Unable to stop myself from thinking about Michaels broad shoulders, trim waist, big strong hands, my cock jumps to life. Instinctively, I start stroking it, but then remember that I am a guest of my best friend and there’s nothing classy about jacking off in a friend’s shower.

Sighing, I lather up and wash my hair, still thinking about the man I’m going to meet for breakfast. Is this too good to be true? He checks so many of my boxes and yet I’m nervous.

Whatever, I think. I can hear Tina’s voice in my head saying, Even Katniss was nervous the first real date she had with Peeta. And who was I to argue with that logic?