Static

by Darien Cox

  “If it wanted candy it would be going after the kids.”

  The children gave up and retreated back to the road, moving on.

  “Let’s just go,” I said, my eye on the raccoon as I locked my front door.

  Drew and I gave the raccoon a wide berth as we headed down the walkway. It turned and followed us with its eyes, still standing upright like a person. When we stopped on the sidewalk, the raccoon scuttled closer, pausing halfway down the path. It remained there while we waited for our ride to show up.

  “That’s weird,” Drew said. “It’s just…staring at us.”

  “Yeah. Super weird.”

  “I see through many eyes, Jonathan…”

  I shivered. “Where the hell is that fucking Uber?”

  ****

  Drew was dancing with a sexy blonde woman in a skin-tight devil costume. Maybe I was wrong about his mismatched werewolf hair being a deterrent, because he seemed to be having the time of his life. I left him to it and headed for the bar.

  The club was jumping, lights flashing, loud dance music pumping. The place was all decked out for Halloween, and I was having a good time. And feeling rather pleased with myself, because a few costumed strangers in the crowd complimented my getup—and knew I was one of the X-Men. Take that, Drew.

  The bar was crowded, so I waited behind a football player with a nice ass who was ordering drinks. When he turned to leave the bar, nearly bumping right into me, my jaw dropped when I realized it was Tim Greenfield. The football player costume was stupidly perfect on him, black grease stripes under his big blue eyes, light brown hair gelled to perfection. Every college girl’s dream.

  He held two beers, and I could tell he didn’t recognize me as he passed by. Then he did a doubletake and turned back. “Jonathan?”

  “Yeah.” I laughed. “It’s me.”

  Tim’s wide smile nearly knocked me over, and he stepped closer. “Holy shit. I almost didn’t recognize you without your glasses.”

  “But the silver wings gave you no pause whatsoever.”

  He laughed, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re a bit weird, Jonathan. I like that.”

  I beamed. “Yeah?”

  “Good to see you. You here with someone?”

  “Just Drew.”

  “Ah, I should have known. I saw him already.” He continued to stare at me, and I grew awkward under his gaze. Because he didn’t seem to want to look away.

  “Timothy! Where’s my beer?”

  A very tanned blond man strode up, dressed as the Chiquita Banana guy, complete with fruit bra and bare midriff, showing off a toned stomach.

  “Oh hey. Ah…Jonathan, this is Ricky. My date.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Ricky said without looking at me. He took one of the beers from Tim, and glanced around the club. “Baby, are we gonna dance or what?”

  “In a bit,” Tim said. “Need some liquid courage first.” Tim smiled at me as his scantily-dressed date hooked his arm and led him away. “Have fun, Jonathan.”

  “Yeah, you too, Tim.”

  I bellied up to the bar and ordered a tequila. Buzzkill. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Tim with a date. He was a great-looking guy, and it was a party. But what kind of grown man called himself Ricky? Better to go with Rick, Richard, or even Dick. But that was just me being spiteful. This all had me wondering if my dinner with Tim tomorrow night counted a date…or just a dude thanking another dude for fixing his computer. Tim had introduced Ricky as his date, and not his boyfriend, so it stood to reason he was still technically available.

  But why was I even thinking about this? I didn’t know how to date a guy. I’d never even kissed one. I wasn’t even out as gay, to Tim or anyone else. Yet suddenly I thought I had the right to be jealous over Banana-douche?

  I lingered at the bar, staying down the end where my wings would be less obtrusive to the crowd. I watched the dance floor, where Drew was now thrashing around with a brunette Playboy bunny. My eyes wandered around the club, stopping on a man about fifteen feet away. My pulse quickened.

  He leaned against the wall, watching the dance floor, a bored expression on his face. Dressed in black leather pants and a black tee shirt…jet black hair. On his back were a pair of black bat wings. They looked similar to my silver ones, probably inflatable.

  He glanced my way.

  I swallowed hard. His narrowed blue eyes were rimmed with black kohl, gorgeous face, slight beard shadow. Black hair a little longer over his furrowed brow, he held my gaze for a moment then looked away. No drink in his hand, he stood with his back to the wall, nicely-shaped arms crossed over his chest, surveilling the room. I’d have thought him a bouncer if not for the eyeliner and bat wings.

  Fuck, does he look like…?

  Yeah, he did. He looked like the avatar I’d chosen from the three pictures last night. The one with the smoldering good looks and piercing blue eyes, that seemed to judge me from my screen.

  It wasn’t possible, because the picture the hacker showed me wasn’t real. The guy over by the wall, however, was very real. My eyes traveled over his black leather pants as he leaned against the wall, one thick leather boot crossed over his other ankle. The resemblance was a coincidence. It had to be. Unless I was losing my mind.

  Or…maybe he was my hacker, and he’d created that avatar he showed me specifically to look like himself. But he couldn’t have known I’d choose that one. The other two options were equally appealing.

  I turned away and leaned on the bar, my breath hitching. I’m losing my goddamned mind. I ordered another tequila and immediately downed it, then glanced over at the stranger in black. He hadn’t moved, and didn’t look my way. I had to go talk to him. See him up close. I didn’t feel like I had a choice. He was drinkless, so I ordered two beers and tentatively approached.

  He glanced at me, and my stomach sank, fear tingling my limbs. Even with the dark kohl lining his eyes, the guy was almost identical to that avatar. One dark eyebrow cocked, and he said, “You want something?”

  A breath leaked out of me, relieved. I’d expected to hear the tinny, polite voice I’d been speaking to via my computer, but instead it was deep and gravelly. Average and unfamiliar. “I saw you didn’t have a beer.” I offered one of the beers.

  His eyes glanced at it, then back to my face. “Didn’t ask for a beer.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t drink?”

  “Fuck it.” He snatched the beer out of my hand and took a sip. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Bat-Wings continued to survey the crowd, ignoring me as he sipped the beer. I cleared my throat. “So, weird huh? Our costumes kind of match, in a yin-yang sort of way.”

  He scowled at me. “What?”

  “The wings.” I pointed to his bat wings. “Except mine are silver and yours are…you know…” My courage wilted, because he was looking at me like I was insane or something. “Sorry. Never mind. Enjoy your beer.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  I started to walk away, then on a whim I turned back. “What’s your name?”

  He glanced at me, dark eyebrow cocked again. “Why do you care?”

  I flinched. “Just making conversation.”

  Sighing, he rolled his eyes and faced front again. “I’m Miko.”

  “I’m Jonathan. Nice to meet you.”

  Miko didn’t respond, so I walked away with my proverbial tail between my legs.

  My head was spinning, the room was spinning, and I felt like I couldn’t get enough air. I took a deep breath, then went in search of Drew. I found him chatting with a group of people, two of which were Tim and his date, Ricky. Tim smiled as I approached, and I returned it before grabbing Drew’s arm. “Hey,” I said softly in his ear. “I need to go.”

  Drew scowled at me, one of his fake sideburns half peeled-off, his face sweaty. “Go? Are you nuts? Have you seen the women here tonight?”

  “I know, I just have a bad headache. Stay if you’re having fun.”

/>   “Okay, suit yourself. You all right? You look a little pale.”

  “I’ll be fine. Like I said, got a headache.”

  “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye.”

  Tim Greenfield’s pretty eyes followed me as I moved away. I held his gaze. He wasn’t smiling, but the way he watched me caused butterflies to spiral in my stomach. I might be inexperienced, but the way Tim looked at me…it didn’t feel platonic.

  I forced myself to look away and headed for the door.

  The club was downtown in a somewhat gloomy neighborhood near the railway, and all manner of characters roamed the streets, from club kids to hobos. A shady-looking skinny guy asked me if I had a cigarette. I told him no and he skulked away.

  Staying beneath a streetlight, I checked my phone, looking to see how close an Uber was.

  “Jonathan.”

  Whirling around, I searched for the source of the voice. Behind me, in a narrow alley between two buildings, a figure stood in the darkness. The figure stepped into a beam of hazy light, and for a second I thought it was the damn Mothman with the shadowy bat wings. “Miko?”

  He stood very still, arms at his sides. Silent.

  Glancing around, I walked tentatively into the alley. “Miko. What are you doing out here?”

  He didn’t answer me. Warning bells flashed and told me not to proceed, but I ignored them and walked deeper into the alley. When I got within two feet of him he grabbed my arm. My back hit the damp brick wall as he shoved me against it.

  I gasped, staring into black-rimmed eyes. “Miko, what are you doing?”

  He closed in on me, and fingers fisted a handful of my shirt as he glared. “Were you hitting on me back there in the club?”

  My heart felt like it would escape my chest, pulse swishing in my ears as fear blasted through me. This wasn’t fair. I was about to get beat up—or possibly killed—for being gay, before I’d even had my first gay kiss. “No,” I squeaked. “I wasn’t.”

  “No?”

  “I just wanted to talk to you. You look…familiar.”

  “Is that so.” He pressed closer to me, forehead nearly touching mine. “I think you’re lying.”

  “I’m not,” I choked out, my breath coming hard. “I swear. I wasn’t hitting on you.”

  “That’s too bad.” A whisper of breath against my lips. “I was hoping you were.”

  A hand drifted over my groin, making me hiss.

  “You like that?” he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine as the hand below applied more pressure to my cock.

  I sucked in air as my body responded, my dick getting hard.

  “I think you like it,” he whispered.

  “Don’t hurt me. Please.”

  “I’m not gonna hurt you, Jonathan.” He let go of my shirt, then my silver pants were being unzipped, tugged open. “Just the opposite,” he said, taking my cock in his hand.

  “Oh, God.” My head hit the wall and my hips lurched forward as he stroked me.

  No man had ever touched me this way, and the sensations intermingled with fear and shock, fighting for dominance.

  “Come on,” he breathed against my lips, thumb and forefinger pinching just below the head of my cock, making me groan. “That’s it. Right there.” He pinched harder, then gripped my shaft tight and continued stroking.

  I whimpered, excitement and pleasure taking over my body and shutting down all resistance.

  “Yeah, that’s the spot,” Miko said with a hard breath as his thumb pressed down again, circling just under the head of my cock. “Just how you do it when you jerk off, right?”

  I jolted, my fear returning, though it was no match for the impending orgasm. “How would you know that?”

  “Just shut up and come, Jonathan.”

  I came. Came so hard I blasted his black shirt, striping it white. He covered my mouth as I cried out, but continued to stroke my dick, milking me to completion. Euphoric pleasure made me wrap my arms around him, clinging to his shoulders as I rode the bliss.

  As I came down from the climax, Miko pressed a quick, hard kiss to my lips, then suddenly he was gone. I saw his winged shadow as he darted out of the alley.

  With shaking hands, I made myself decent—as decent as a costumed superhero covered with jizz in a dark alley could get. After zipping up, I ran back to the street. On the sidewalk, I turned left and right, searching. “Miko?” I shouted. “Miko!”

  But he was gone, lost in the crowd. Swallowed up by the dark city street. Like he’d never been there at all.

  Chapter Five

  When I arrived home from the club, a white cat with orange spots sat on my front porch. Keys in hand, I stared down at it, and it stared up at me. “Go away.” The cat’s eyes looked me over, like it was assessing my appearance, then its yellow eyes met mine again. “Go. Away. Cat.”

  The cat turned, tail in the air, and darted off behind the house.

  Shaking my head, I unlocked my door and stepped inside, flicking on the lights. My laptop sat on the desk, open but dark and silent. The first thing I did was peel out of my costume and go take a shower. The residue in my pubic hair assured me I hadn’t imagined tonight’s hand-job in the alley, and I felt slightly nauseous as I scrubbed myself clean.

  After changing into my comfy sweats, I went into the living room and sat down at my desk, booting up the computer, then simply staring at the screen. “Are you there?”

  No response. Was I crazy? Was I genuinely cracking up? I wanted to speak to the voice. I wanted answers.

  I logged into Netflix and put on my detective show, hoping this might trigger a response. For twenty minutes I waited for the buzzing. For the screen to freeze up. But it didn’t happen. I left Netflix and found some porn. As the video played, I waited. I went so far as to peel the masking tape off of the webcam and stare right into it. “Are you there? I need to talk to you! Damn it.”

  Great. I was getting cyber-snubbed by my stalker. How low can you go?

  Giving up on the porn, I closed out of the video. Rubbing my chin, I replayed the night’s events. Miko. The hacker told me several times that he didn’t have a name. Yet.

  Doing a google search, I looked for the name Miko. Clicked on one of those name-origins pages.

  ‘The name Miko is Slavic. Miko is a form of Michael: Who is like God?’

  I chuckled softly. “Who is like God? I have no idea, but I think he just jerked me off in a dirty alley.”

  I screwed around online for another half hour, stalling, waiting to see if anything unusual happened. Nothing did.

  Finally, I went to bed, grateful for my exhaustion. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep, but I went down hard, and didn’t stir until my alarm went off in the morning.

  After dressing for work, I made another attempt, booting up my computer and trying to lure the hacker out of hiding. After twenty minutes of nothing, I gave up and left the house.

  One good thing about last night’s activities, they had my brain so preoccupied I forgot all about my dinner later on with Tim until I was pulling into the parking lot at work.

  Shit.

  Dinner with Tim Greenfield. Tonight. Damn, seeing him dressed in that football costume nearly did me in last night. But Tim wasn’t just hot. He was sweet too. I liked him so much, had liked him for so long. My nervousness came awake, kicking into high gear.

  I didn’t run into Tim all day. Okay, I avoided going anywhere near the computer department, and stayed huddled at my desk most of the day. Since I just loved to overthink things, I convinced myself I’d cornered Tim into agreeing to dinner, and that he didn’t actually want to go. But at half-past four on the dot, he came by my cubicle, looking more polished than usual in tan slacks and a royal blue button-down shirt. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, Tim.”

  “You left early last night.”

  “Yeah. I had a headache. Did you have fun?”

  “Oh yeah, it was a lot of fun. Drew called in sick today.” Tim chuckled.
“Last I saw him he was leaving the club with a sexy nurse on his arm. So I guess he’s…being healed.”

  “Oh yeah? Good for him.”

  Tim smiled at me, and I smiled back. Silence. Awkward.

  “So you ready to go to dinner?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Sure. If you’re ready.”

  “I am. You want to just meet me at the Grille?”

  “Yeah, sounds good. See you there in about fifteen?”

  “Great.” He nodded, looking sheepish for a moment. “Okay, see you there.”

  He left and my shoulders relaxed. Tim seemed nervous, and I had no idea if it was because he liked me, or because he knew I liked him, or because he didn’t really want to go to dinner, or if…if… Christ, I was overthinking it. It was just a meal with a coworker.

  He wants to take two cars. Probably so he can escape as soon as the check comes.

  “Enough,” I cursed myself. I shut down, grabbed my briefcase, and headed out—stopping in the restroom first to check my appearance and use a little mouthwash.

  Tim beat me to the Grille, and I found him at a booth near the window in the corner. “Hey there,” I said as I slid in across from him.

  His smile dimpled his cheeks. “Hey. I’m starving, I ordered us an appetizer already. You like potato skins?”

  “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

  A waiter came by and set down two beers in tall glasses.

  “Oh yeah, ordered you a beer too.” Tim chuckled. “Look at me, just taking over, right?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m glad you did. Been a long week,” I said, taking a sip.

  “Jonathan. It’s only Wednesday.”

  “Oh right.” I laughed and Tim laughed with me. “Feels like it should be Friday.”

  “I hear that.”

  We made small talk through the appetizer, then ordered dinner. Tim got the steak, and I ordered broiled haddock, because I wanted something light. My stomach was in knots, and just looking at Tim—looking directly at him for longer than I’d ever dared—had me jumpy and nervous and excited at the same time. The blue shirt brought out his eyes, and every time his gaze lingered on mine at a pause in conversation, my stomach turned over.