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PATRICK

I t’s a warm and sunny Saturday morning in Southern California, but I, Patrick Flores, am both in awe and appalled at the amount of sweat accumulating on Tina’s brow and soaking the armpits of her t-shirt. Tina Brokaw is a cute girl with long brown hair, a decent body, and a fun personality that I’ve loved since the day we met. Back then, she was hitting on me at the local gay bar until I whispered in her ear that I was into dudes. The look on her face was priceless, but from that moment on, we’ve been the best of friends.

Truth be told, it made me sad when I found out she auditioned for the role of Katniss Everdeen in the teen dystopian The Hunger Games but lost out to J-Law. I’m an aspiring actor too, and after becoming friends, I found out we both auditioned on the same day, acting our asses off, desperate for a part in the movie. But at that time we hadn’t yet met each other. Our star-crossed paths hadn’t converged—or some crazy shit like that. I never took much stock in astrology or meditation, but Tina and I both went to see a past life regressionist last Christmas, and she filled our heads with some crazy stuff. Who would have thought I was once the scribe to the most famous Egyptian Pharoah of all time, Ramses the Second?

Anyway, unlike me, once the movie released, Tina became obsessed with anything remotely similar to the movie—thus the reason we’re out here at an archery range before seven in the damn morning. Despite my aversion to weapons and outdoor things, she’d convinced me with her big teary eyes, that it would be somehow good for me to practice with her. That at some point in the future these skills might come in handy. I couldn’t bear to see her reduce herself to begging… again, so I’d agreed to get a membership to this place with her.

Now, Tina slowly pulls back the bow, leveling the point at the target, and pauses. I wait… and wait. It seems as though she’s never going to release the shaft. Her outstretched arm begins to tremble under the strain. This could get ugly. Should I take cover? Warn her to be careful?

“For fuck’s sake, Tina,” I say. “Shoot the damned thing.”

She lets the string slide past her fingertips, releasing the arrow. It hurtles toward the target before slamming through the bullseye with a solid thud. The shaft penetrates the hay bale and momentarily quivers.

I jump up from my chair and pump my hips as if I’m topping the Invisible Man . “Damn, you’re good.”

She flicks her hair to the side and smiles. “Don’t hurt yourself, bestie. You haven’t thrust those hips like that in a while.” She puts her hands over her ears. “Don’t you dare tell me about your prom night story again… I can’t take it.”

“Girl, don’t you know it?” I haven’t been in a real relationship in a while and as she points out, I always manage to compare every experience I have to what happened at my high school senior prom. The theme was Reach for the Stars, but all I could remember was the reach around I got in the handicapped stall in the boy’s bathroom. Damn, he was so fucking hot. I never imagined I would be fucked that night by the star quarterback, Ricky Diaz. I close my eyes and for a split second, it’s as if I’m teleported back in time. Breathing deep, I can still smell the urinal cakes and industrial-strength floor cleaner they use in the school bathrooms. The drip of the sink. The slippery floor tiles all around the urinals.

"Hey, aren't you gonna use that private stall?" Ricky asked in his deep baritone voice, gesturing to the one directly next to me. His breath was warm against my ear, making me shiver pleasurably. My heart pounded like a drum as I watched him approach, admiring his broad chest and muscular arms adorned with deltoids that could rival any Greek god's. The stall door clicked shut behind him, leaving us alone in a cocoon of anonymity and taboo desire.

As he unzipped his white tuxedo pants, revealing a pair of black boxers underneath, my cheeks flushed hotter than the pent up load of cum I hadn’t released since yesterday. Ricky’s hard-on strained against the fabric, and I found myself mesmerized by its length and girth – it was like nothing I'd ever seen before or since. He stepped closer, our thighs brushing against each other, sending waves of excitement coursing through me. Without thinking too much about it, I reached out tentatively to touch him; he let out a low moan as my fingers grazed over his thick shaft, delighting in the velvety smooth skin beneath my trembling fingertips.

He guided my hand along his engorged member, showing me exactly how he liked it done as he wrapped one hand around mine and began to stroke both of us in tandem. The texture was different from what I'd imagined; sticky yet silky at the same time. His cock twitched under my touch as he leaned in close enough for our lips to brush against each other's neck. "You want this?" he whispered hoarsely into my ear before moving lower down towards my aching shaft. As if by divine intervention, my pants seemed to unbutton themselves and fell to the floor. Within seconds, I was sitting on the toilet and the guy’s heavy balls were slapping me on the chin. After that, the Beverly Hills High School’s best chance at a Football State Championship and I went for round two in the back of Ricky’s truck.

A gust of hot Santa Anna wind blew me back to reality. The dingy men’s bathroom replaced by a lush green archery range. Ricky’s handsome face now my best friend, Tina’s.

I shake away my nostalgia. One thing I was certain of, Ricky Diaz arguably had the biggest dick I’d ever seen. The unexpected encounter that fateful night wasn’t how I’d planned to spend the best fifteen minutes of senior prom, but it sure was the most memorable.

It was truly magical.

“I’m one badass bitch.” Tina twirls in place before throwing caution aside, sprinting for the target. Clearly unconcerned for her own safety as everyone else at the range is still firing off projectiles of death, she does a perfect cartwheel, double round off flip as she reaches the target to gather her arrow. Throwing her arms up into the air, she arches her back just enough to easily snatch the arrow from the target.

I watch as she rips the target sheet from the stand. Tina tosses her head back while raising her right hand in a three-finger salute of tribute-victory, or is it for solidarity? I really can’t remember; I’m usually drunk by the time we get to that part of the movie.

“Get back here before you die,” I call out to her. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain to your mom that you got shot… again.”

Tina jogs back, smiling from ear to ear. “It was just a flesh wound. Nothing Katniss couldn’t handle.” She flicks an errant hair out from the side of her mouth.

“Yes, but Katniss and The Hunger Games are fictional, and the only game we’ve successfully played is pin-the-cock on the stripper.” I laugh to encourage her not to think too much into the disappointing past.

“No, that’s the game you’re good at. I’m classy.” Tina strikes a pose, tossing her hair to the side and then checking her nails. For what, I don’t know, but she seems to have taken to the pose lately.

“Oh, right. Day drinking and making out with my sister’s boyfriend was sure classy of you.” I roll my eyes and lovingly snap my fingers in her face.

“Again, that was you.”

“It was not…” I cock my head and hip to the side for a second. The way she pinches her mouth together triggers a memory. “Oh, yeah. That was me.” I coyly pick at my cuticle and bite my bottom lip. “I can’t believe Lisa ever thought her boyfriend was straight in the first place. I guess in some small way, I did her… and him, a huge favor. See… I’m a giver.”

“You two would have made a really cute couple,” she says. “He was ruggedly handsome, older, well-established.”

“Don’t start.”

She gives me a pouty face. “I just want you to find a nice guy who will treat you well.”

“And… support me so I don’t have to work my life away. I could use a life of luxury.” I smile but look away. Truth be told, I would settle for someone who truly loved me and treated me well. Unfortunately, the dating scene is all about the hookup, and that gets old—fast. The connection I felt with the guy who took my virginity had been fleeting but powerful, and I’ve never been able to replicate it with anyone else.

“Hey, stop that,” Tina says. “I recognize the look on your face.”

“What look?” I try desperately to appear innocent, but I know damn well what she’s talking about.

“The one where you’re thinking about Ricky. Stop it.”

I put my hands up in self-defense. “Hey, I can’t help it if I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“Sweetie,” she says, putting a sweaty hand on my shoulder. “It’s been years. Maybe a half a decade ago it was cute, but now it’s just revealing.”

“Revealing, what?”

“You’re damaged.” She puts a supportive hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “But I still love you.”

I shrug and cross my arms.

“Don’t get upset. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “When you’re ready, I’ll go with you to your first counseling session. By then you’ll be comfortable with him or her. Trust me. I’ve been in therapy for years. Daddy says all starlets need a good counselor.”

I don’t have the heart to remind her she hasn’t actually starred in anything, unless you consider the commercial she did for that popular douche brand years ago. Mom, why do I have that not-so-fresh feeling? It’s the one speaking role she managed during the decades of auditions. I mean, she was great at pretending her crotch was musty, but it never seemed to translate into any real role.

“Are you going to go with me to the next audition? My agent says there’s a perfect part for me and you,” Tina says, giving her pouty face to guilt me into not giving up on my dreams of becoming an actor.

“I don’t know.” I look away.

“Why don’t you know? You’re a great actor.” She reaches up and puts her hands on my shoulders, squaring me up to look into my eyes. “Remember that time you tried out for that commercial, and they loved you?”

I smile. “They did… didn’t they?”

“No one ever gets their big break without getting shit on along the way. It’s part of the Hollywood experience.” She shakes me like an abusive mother and then says, “We both need to count our blessings as my grandmother would have said, bless her soul in heaven. Neither of us has had to suck a wrinkly old cock on the casting couch.”

She makes a few very strong points. “What movie is the audition for?” My interest is now mildly piqued.

“They won’t give out any specific information, which tells me it’s a big deal. Usually, the indie films are pretty open about casting, but remember how hush hush that last Richard Thompson film was?” She puts her hand on her hip. “Blockbuster… and top secret.”

“Okay, I’m in. We can discuss the specifics later, but let your agent know I’ll be going too. Do you think she’ll still represent me?”

“Bring her a pack of menthol cigarettes, and she’ll take you under her dusty, ash-filled wing.”

I hug her, suddenly excited about a part I have almost no chance of getting. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

“Of course. Oh, my, look what we have walking this way.” Tina pushes me away and starts to play with her hair, contorting her body to make her boobs look bigger than they are. I turn and see Jake Bloom approaching fast, too fast for me to collect my thoughts, let alone make myself look more appealing.

“Tina… Patrick,” Jake says, pausing after each name long enough to give us a fist bump. “What are you two doing here?”

Jake is the bartender at work and he catches the eye of every person who works there. No one is certain of his sexual orientation, but neither Tina nor I care as long as he keeps flirting with us.

“Tina and I come here to practice our archery skills. You never know when they’ll come in handy.”

Jake cocks his head to the side, his quizzical look making me want to crawl under a rock. “Planning on going hunting? It never occurred to me you’d be interested in something like that.”

I stammer a few unintelligible words.

“What my mute friend here is trying to say is, we come here to practice in case Hollywood decides to make another movie where archery is an integral plot point.” She smiles and nods my way.

“Ah, that’s right. I heard through the work grapevine, you tried to get the role of Katniss, didn’t you?” Jake smiles and takes a step closer to her. “You’re far too beautiful for that film.”

A sound between that of a horse whinny and a dolphin squeak emanates from the flushed Tina. She too grows speechless as her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

I’ve got to do something to save my best friend from this humiliation. “I tried out for Peeta,” I manage to say as I shift my weight under the ever-growing awkwardness. “But in all fairness, we’ve grown fond of the sport.” I flex my left bicep in some kind of insane effort to appear manly.

“I get that,” Jake says. “Sports are great. I especially love a soothing hot shower after a long, hard, day of play.”

“Um,” Tina says. “I love showers. You too, Patrick? You, me… we… showers.”

I watch in horror as my friend dissolves into a pile of stuttering goo. Pull yourself together, woman .

“Tragic,” I say and then nudge her. “Snap out of it. You’re embarrassing us both.”

She stops trying to form complete sentences and simply strikes a pose. I have to admit it’s a great strategy as she looks fabulous in the morning light.

“Is she okay?” Jake asks.

I nod. “She’ll be fine. Probably too much caffeine this morning,” I lie. “Once she awakens from this fugue state, she’ll be so embarrassed.”

Her glare, so white hot, could burn my skin if I weren’t wearing sunblock. I’ll answer for this later, I feel it in my soul.

Jake wags his eyebrows at me and smiles. His carefree demeanor is infectious and intoxicating. The way his dark brown hair meets his smooth white skin sends my heart fluttering. I can’t help but notice that despite the warm morning, Jake’s nipples are hard under his thin blue shirt. I steal a glance down and swallow hard. His gray sweatpants perfectly accentuate the uncut beef he hides inside them, making my mouth water.

“Okay, it was great seeing you both.” Jake readjusts his quiver and nods. “I’d better get to my lane before they give it away to someone else.”

“For sure,” I say with a forced, awkward laugh. “See you at work.”

“Bye,” Tina says.

“Tina,” I whisper. “What happened to you? Were you having a stroke?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I made the mistake of looking down at his bulge. The way it moved from side to side when he walked toward us.” She bites her bottom lip and purrs. “There’s something bad… naughty about Jake that turns me on. I don’t care how this makes me sound, but I would ride him like a bull. Trust me, I’d hold on longer than eight seconds.”

We both turn and stand in silence, watching his thick muscular ass as he walks away. “He smells so good,” I say. “I want him… like, bad.”

“Don’t we all? You have to face it though, he’s straight and you’re never going to have him like that.”

“You don’t know he’s straight. Sexuality is a spectrum… he might like him some dick on the side.”

“True, but he was flirting with me.” Tina smiles, hopping in place. “He said I was prettier than Jennifer Lawrence.”

“I felt like he was flirting with me too.” I don’t have anything solid to go off, but it felt like it. Didn’t he hold my gaze longer than a straight man would have? “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“We both ask him out and see who he goes with.” I arch my eyebrows. “You down for a friendly wager?”

“Now you’re talking my language. What are the terms?”

“Whoever goes out with him first wins and the loser has to pay for their date.”

Tina shakes her head. “Not just a date. That’s too easy. It has to be whoever gets him into bed… and not to sleep.”

I want to protest as I haven’t had luck getting anyone to have sex with me in what seems like forever, but I also wouldn’t mind putting some real effort into this one. “Deal,” I say. “What do we use as proof of copulation?”

“I’ll take your word for it if you trust me too.”

We’re best friends and have never lied to one another, so it works for me. “Deal.”

We shake on our wager.

“Anyway,” Tina says, rolling her eyes. “You know I love you and want you to be happy, but guess what else I love?” Her smile says it all, but she doesn’t give me time to respond. She holds up the target so I can see the hole dead in the center of the red dot. “ The Hunger Games franchise. The movies, books, clothing, and even the soundtrack speak to me on a subatomic level.”

“Fine, but you need to be more careful. I need you to promise me, you’re not going to run down the lane like that anymore.” I cross my arms and do my best to glare at her for her own good. “Promise me.”

“Okay,” she says. “I promise, bestie.”

I take the target from her and hold it up like Rafiki presenting Simba to the animals gathered below during The Lion King . “You’re the best archer I know.” I twirl in place and dance a little jig holding the paper in front of me. When I look up, I see Tina’s gaze has shifted from me and into the distance. I follow her sightline. Her eyes are locked on Jake. He’s a few lanes away looking in our direction. I smile and obnoxiously wave as if I’m embarking on a cross Atlantic trip in the early nineteenth century. I don’t blame him, but Jake turns away as if he didn’t see me.

“Smooth,” Tina says. “Honey, you’re embarrassing yourself. I really want to win, but I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t tell you to chill.”

“I know,” I say. “Oh my god, I hate myself when I get like this.”

“Nah.” She waves away my self-consciousness. “He probably didn’t even notice.”

I laugh. “Let’s get the fuck out of here and get a latte before our shift starts. There’s plenty of time to go to Coffee Cravings.”

“Perf.” Tina smiles with all the giddiness of a true coffee-obsessed fiend.

It’s one of the many things we have in common. I can almost feel the surge of life I know I’ll have after that first glorious sip. The caramel mocha sweetness will give me goosebumps, and the caffeine, the will to live through my shift. It’ll be great!

We gather up our equipment and head for the car. I need an extra shot of espresso in my iced coffee if I have the slightest hope of tolerating the assholes that frequent what once was the country club of the Hollywood elite. It’s where I get paid to hand out towels and toiletries in the guest locker room and at poolside. We also provide drinks and snacks to the middle-aged, out-of-touch, shitty rich people who repeatedly get handsy and ask for happy endings during their massage. Although, I suspect some of the other staff have it worse, especially those giving facials, waxing, and other spa treatments.

Needless to say, we rarely ever see any true Hollywood royalty, but the B-Rated and Forgotten-Abouts are there in force. Seas the Day Country Club and Med Spa has really fallen out of favor, to which I can’t see any way to fix. Oh well. I’ll ride this ship as it circles the drain. At least I’m still getting paid.

Happy fucking Monday.