“Well, he was quoting Frost at me. How could I not?”
“You and your books.” She laughed. “Well, I’ll be gone for ten days, so you better have something exciting to report back when I’m home! There is a weekend in that time frame, and that’s prime date night, Baby J. Don’t let it slip away.” She held her arms open and Joel tucked himself in for a hug.
“I’ll do good, Theenie, you’ll see. But I’ll miss you all the same.” He squeezed her tight before stepping back.
“You’ve always done wonders for my ego, Baby J. I love you and whatever you do. Cause some trouble for once, okay?” Athena smiled and waved at him before heading back out the door of the shop.
Joel listened to the door bells chime again, and put on a new record before plopping down in one of the cushy wingback chairs facing the street and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER TWO
Joel Doesn’t Go on a Date
Joel crouched down under the hot afternoon sun and shook his hair from his eyes, only for it to immediately fall back into place. He thumbed through a cardboard box full of beat up records to see if anything caught his eye. He had deliberately set some cash aside from his last paycheck in case he saw any signs for estate sales during the week, and sure enough, here he was. Since he was so strapped for money, he didn't have cable, or even a TV, and he preferred it that way. He had his books and he had his records and he had even more books. Reaching the end, he slowly leaned the weight of all the records back against the side of the box before getting up and dusting off his knees.
Joel wandered into the house and delicately skimmed his fingertips over the top of a dark cherry wood sideboard that hugged the entryway wall. To his left, the hallway opened up into a spacious living room, stacked with boxes overflowing with trinkets and fabrics. The far wall had a large brick fireplace, blackened from years of good use, and was piled high with hard cover books. Joel smiled to himself and headed that way, sitting cross legged and dragging the nearest pile closer to him so he could peruse. A few books in, he found a faded green fabric covered novel, thicker than the books, but not as tall. He picked it up and found an identical book underneath it. The covers were blank and he turned them to the side to inspect the spines. He smiled as he traced the gilded gold lettering, Les Misérables, Victor Hugo.
Volumes one and two, a complete set. He opened the cover of the first volume, gently so as to not crack the spine, and read the print year was 1890. The volume seemed sturdy enough so he fanned the pages, holding it closer to his face to inhale the old book smell he loved so much.
It's mold, Baby J, the smell is mold, Athena told him the first and last time she joined him at an estate sale.
Joel took a deep breath, interrupted by a vibration in his back pocket. He closed the book and set both volumes down next to him as he reached for his phone, which had apparently decided to work today. He didn't recognize the number, but he accepted the call, hoping it might be Davis.
“Hello?”
“Joel?” A recognizable baritone questioned him on the other end.
“Yeah, it is. Davis?” Joel asked, suddenly nervous and picking at a frayed thread on the stitching of his shoe.
“Yeah. Hey there.”
“Hey. How's it going? I was starting to think you didn't want to get together after all,” Joel casually remarked, trying and failing to not let his insecurity or abandonment issues show.
“No, no, I do!” Davis was quick to protest, causing Joel to smile. “I've been having shit luck with my car. It got keyed when I was in the store talking to you, then when I got out of dinner that night, all four of my tires were slashed. I got it back from the shop and three days after that, the battery stopped charging. It's so weird. But other than that, I've been good, and I do still want to take you out. I have a loaner car from the dealer finally, so do you have any plans tonight?”
“Tonight? No, I'm free.” Joel scratched the back of his neck. He hadn't been on a date in, well, ever. He had as much luck dating as Davis seemed to have with his Tesla.
“Great. Are you good with Indian? There's a place I love off the 101 outside Hollywood called Paree’s. It's in kind of a shitty area but the palak paneer is one hundred percent worth the risk.” Davis laughed and Joel’s mouth crept into a tentative smile.
“Indian is good. That sounds great, do you want me to meet you there?”
“Definitely not. I'll pick you up, if that's okay? I am a gentleman, after all.” Joel could hear some papers shifting around on the other end of the call.
“That's fine. I'll text you my address then? And don't worry, I'm in Echo Park, I'm not a commuter from the valley or anything.” Joel teased, but was being serious. Traffic in L.A. was no joke. He tried to stay east of the 405 and south of the 101 at all costs.
“Sounds good, Joel. I can't wait. I'll pick you up at six.”
“Six is great. Bye, Davis. See you soon,” Joel responded before ending the call. He quickly saved Davis’s number and sent him a text with his address. Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he reached down to pick up the Les Misérables volumes, but they were gone. “Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, looking back over his shoulder. He hadn't even heard anyone come up, or he would have stopped them. Joel did a quick once-over of the house, but didn't see anything else he wanted, and he didn't see anyone with the books he’d intended to buy. Joel pulled his sunglasses down onto his face as he exited the house and headed toward his car. He needed to get home and prep for his date with Davis.
***
At 6:07, his phone rang.
Davis.
Joel sighed inwardly, prepping himself for the inevitable cancellation. “Hello?”
“Joel! Hey, it's Davis.” Joel sat down and took his shoes off, anticipating the letdown.
“Hey...everything OK?”
“Yeah, funny you should ask. I was having a hell of a time getting this loaner started and I'm running so late.” He was running late, not canceling. See? Joel thought to himself, you were overreacting. “Anyway, I realized this spot is only like ten minutes from your place. I hate to do this, but I'm starving and coming from the other direction. Can you meet me there?”
“Yeah, of course, sure... Just send me the address and I'll head over.” Joel put his shoes back on.
“Awesome! I'm so sorry, Joel. I'm normally much more put together than this. I must be making an awful impression,” Davis chuckled.
“You're fine. I'll see you in a bit. Drive safe.”
“You too, Joel.”
The call disconnected. Grabbing his wallet and keys, he locked up and headed off to meet Davis.
***
Joel was driving in a loop between Normandie and Kingsley, trying to find a parking spot that wasn't on Sunset so he wouldn't have to deal with all the traffic on a Saturday night. Davis had not been kidding when he said the restaurant was in a questionable location. It wasn't the worst part of town, but it definitely wasn't the best either. Joel turned down DeLongpre, one block down and about three blocks over from the restaurant. A car pulled away from the curb, so Joel flicked his blinker on and slid his car into the vacated spot. He flipped down the sun visor and opened the little mirror, the two small yellow lights clicked on and cast him, quite literally, in an unattractive light. He flipped the visor closed and adjusted the rear view mirror so he could see his eyes.
“He wants to go out with you. This isn't a pity date. He thinks you're cute,” Joel pep-talked himself into what he hoped was a halfway confident outlook on the date with Davis. Joel was confused about why Davis even asked him out in the first place, but he was trying to roll with the punches. He was nineteen years old, almost twenty, and he worked in a hole-in-the-wall bookshop people always mistook for a BDSM store. He lived in a shitty one-bedroom apartment on the questionable side of Echo Park, he could barely afford the rent, and he was alone. Mostly alone. No parents in touch, no siblings, no pets. Only Athena and sometimes her brother, Adonis.
It was to be expected, at least. Joel
had always been a disappointment. His father had died when he was young, and his stepfather hadn’t ever been the kind of role model he needed. It had gotten worse when he was a teenager and figured out that he was gay. His stepfather didn’t like that, so Joel tried to stay out of the house as much as he could. His mom wasn't supportive of him either, often threatening to send him away if he didn't straighten up… literally. The day Joel graduated high school, his mom and stepdad left for the east coast, leaving Joel on his own with a phone number for his mom’s mom who lived somewhere in Beverly Hills. Joel hadn’t even spoken to his grandmother since he was a pre-teen. She was not what anyone would consider a warm and loving grandma. There were no fresh-baked cookies waiting for him. He wasn't sure if it was because of him being gay and driving his mom across the country, or more of a dislike for people in general that caused the issues between him and his grandma. But he took the move and the guilt in stride, understanding their move across country was their way of dealing with what a letdown he had been. The list of reasons he had failed them was endless, the main reason obviously being that he was gay, then you could add the fact that he wasn’t tall enough, he wasn’t athletic enough, he wasn’t social enough, his dyed hair was too attention grabbing, his tight jeans were too immodest, and his taste in music was questionable at best. The list of his shortcomings went on and on. Being painfully shy as a result of a life spent being told he was not enough of anything meant he didn’t make or keep friends easily, but he had gotten used to the solitude. He preferred to be with his books and his records anyway, if he was being honest. They all had better stories to tell.
He had one friend, for a while, his sophomore year of high school. A kid named Carter, who was a senior and gay as a jaybird, but deeper in the closet than a winter coat from five years ago. They took drama class together, and were both stage techs, so they formed a delicate relationship that involved minimum talking. Over the course of the semester, that warped into heated stares across the soundboard and unexpected brushes of denim against denim as they started to sit too close together. Then one day in the spring, Carter edged in a little closer than normal against Joel as they were putting up some power cords in the closet, and all it took was a slight turn of his head to the left, and Joel had his first kiss. It was ironic that Joel was out of the closet and Carter was not, but Joel ended up being the one pushing Carter farther in, with hands against his shoulders, furiously exploring his mouth with an eager tongue.
The semester went on in much the same way between them until one night, after a rehearsal of the spring performance wrapped up and the two of them found themselves alone in the auditorium. Carter had developed into an eager and aggressive partner, still in the closet though, and he strong-armed Joel into the men's dressing room, easily taking control and working Joel’s belt off with one hand, as he held his throat securely with the other. Joel had tilted his neck up toward the ceiling, in offering to, and in agreement with what Carter was about to do. Carter had been rough as he pulled down Joel’s pants and boxers, producing a shiny foil-wrapped condom and a pack of lube. He tore both open with his teeth, pressed Joel down with a palm against the small of his back and thrust himself inside. It was quick, rough and awkward. As the two of them lay in a heap, panting and sweaty afterward, Carter brushed Joel’s red hair out of his eyes, then kissed his cheekbones softly before getting up, putting his pants back on and walking out.
Two days went by and Joel didn’t hear a word from Carter. After another night-time rehearsal Joel found himself back in the men's dressing room, back underneath his fumbling lover. The experience went much the same for Joel this time, only longer in duration and he was left again with two more kisses to his cheekbones.
And so the year went on. Carter and Joel fumbled through exploring each other’s bodies, as teenagers do. Joel sucked his first dick, choking on the bitter taste of cum in the broom closet next door to their homeroom. Carter learned about rimming, thanks to Joel, and spattered the floor of the sound booth with his own cum more than once. Then, at the end of the school year, Carter was gone, without a goodbye or a forwarding address.
Everyone left him in the end. His parents couldn’t wait to get away, and after everything they’d done together, even Carter left without a word, most likely off to college somewhere better than California. Carter was the only person Joel had ever been with, and the whole experience had been so disappointing to him, that Joel developed a hard time trusting people. Joel hadn’t wanted anyone else to find him lacking the way his parents and Carter did.
After Joel had shaken himself out of his trip down memory lane, he reached for the door handle to get out of the car, but it was yanked away from him as the door flew open. Joel’s eyes widened in shock as he was faced by a man in all black with a hoodie and a ski mask over his face, complete with black crowbar raised up and ready to strike.
“Get out of the fucking car and give me your keys!” the man demanded.
Joel fumbled, scared out of his fucking mind, to try and get the keys out of the ignition to give to the guy, hoping his face wasn’t about to become better acquainted with the crowbar. He shakily reached a hand out as another rush of black came full speed from the back of Joel’s car, throwing the man into the door and sending the crowbar clattering to the ground. He watched the two men struggle with each other briefly. It was apparent that his Good Samaritan would easily win, as a solid and meaty fist connected over and over against his assailant’s cheek. Joel cowered into his car, horrified and trapped as the fight raged on in front of him. The larger man stood, offering a solid kick to the rib cage of the man bleeding on the ground before growling out, “Don’t ever fucking think about touching him.”
The man on the ground did his best to crawl out into the street in an attempt to escape. Joel’s Good Samaritan offered one last kick to the attacker, who was nevertheless able to get his bearings and take off running toward the mass of people on the main street a few blocks away.
Joel shook as he stammered out a thank you to his mysterious savior. His vision was blurry and unfocused as a result of his overwhelming fear, and by the time his eyes cleared, the man who saved him was gone.
CHAPTER THREE
Joel Needs a Plumber, Immediately
Joel wasn’t sure how long he sat in his car, waiting for his heart rate to regulate. Should he call the police? What would they do, anyway? It wasn’t as if there was anyone to arrest or take to the hospital, although he imagined the carjacker might end up in the hospital on his own volition based on the beating he had taken.
The stranger!
Joel got out of his car and looked all around him, trying to see if he could locate the man who had come to his aid, but there was no one around. He slid back into the driver's seat and pulled out his phone to call Davis. His hands were so shaky, he dropped it a couple times before he could get a grip on it. Pressing the screen button, nothing happened. He pressed it again, and again nothing. “Fuck me, come on,” Joel exhaled, exasperated with his shit luck, and tossed the phone on the passenger seat. He wasn’t sure how late he was at this point, and Davis had probably given up on him and left already. Joel didn’t see the point in trekking the four blocks up to the restaurant just to have to turn around and go back to his car. For all he knew, the carjacker was still lurking around. He pulled the door of his car closed and stuck the key back in the ignition. Pulling out of the parking space, he headed home.
***
Back in his apartment, Joel locked the door behind him and tossed his keys across the kitchen counter. He went straight into the bathroom, took a leak, and flushed the toilet before making his way to the sink in his kitchen to pour himself a glass of water from the tap. As he pushed the faucet handle back to turn off the water, nothing happened. Well, something happened, in that the water did not stop even though the faucet was now in the off position. He moved it back and forth, but there was no change in the flow of water. “Come the fuck on!” Joel shouted at no one, watching the water dr
ain down his sink. With no end in sight, his mind focused on the sound of running water, and he realized it was coming from more than one place. The distinct sound of the tap in the kitchen almost drowned out the deeper whooshing noise of a running toilet. He took off down the short hallway toward his bathroom and recognized he’d been correct in identifying the sound. The toilet was about half an inch away from overflowing. He jiggled the handle, and nothing happened, short of the water flowing over the toilet seat and wetting his shoes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Joel lifted his legs high, trying to escape the impending flood in his bathroom. He reached for his back pocket to pull out his phone to call the landlord and a plumber but realized it wasn’t there.
Joel dug his hands into his scalp and grabbed his hair by the roots in an attempt to rip it from his fucking head. If he’d thought Davis had bad luck with the Tesla, this was a whole new level of shit luck right here. He watched the water begin to flow out of the bathroom and into the hallway, making the start of a river as it seeped down toward the bedroom. Joel skipped over ahead of it, running for his closet to grab a couple of pairs of pants and some shirts. He rifled through the hangers, trying to find his favorite t-shirt, but it wasn’t where he’d seen it last. He grumbled, taking another in its place, and waded back through the water that was quickly saturating his carpet. He stopped in the kitchen, making one last attempt to turn the sink off before grabbing his keys and escaping out the front door.
Once he was back in his car, he peeled off his soaking wet Converse and socks, tossing them on the floor in the back. He blindly groped for his phone on the seat beside him, and by some miracle of luck, it powered on. As he expected, though, he didn’t have any missed calls or texts from Davis. He scrolled down to his landlord, Phil, and called, leaving a message to let him know about the flood and impending water damage.
His Kind of Love Page 2