Time for Love

by Lynn Michaels

  “I guess that means you haven’t been so good.”

  “You could say that.” Jeremy set his cup back down without taking a drink.

  His guide leaned back in his seat with his hands behind his head. “So, wanna talk about it?”

  “No. I don’t even want to think about it, but it’s kind of hard not to.” He played with his drink a few minutes, rocking it on the table. His hippy-guide stayed silent. He waited. “Okay. So, I really, really want things to work out with Ollie.”

  “That’s the cop boyfriend?”

  “Yeah.” Had he told the guy anything about Ollie before? He couldn’t remember, but he must have. “I like him so much and want it to work out, but I think this is going to break my heart.”

  “That’s not a reason to give up.”

  “No, it’s not, but the case is pretty much finished, so he’s probably leaving soon. And all I’m doing is putting off going home. Hoping for more.”

  “What does he say?”

  “He wants to work it out. But first off...I don’t know how that’s going to happen with him in New York and me in Clearwater and second...I don’t know if I can forget...”

  “Forget? Forget what? What did he do?”

  “Nothing. Not him. The guys he’s been after. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s all warped in my head.”

  The guy leaned forward, his hands on the table. “Okay. Here's the thing...and I'd hoped you'd figured this out on your own but see...you can't control other people. Only yourself. So what can you control in this? You can walk away and know that nothing will ever happen, or you can take the time to get to know the man. Go for it. He might break your heart, or he might not, but if you don't give him a chance, you will lose out for sure. And that other garbage? If he didn’t do anything to hurt you, then you need to put it aside. Know that whatever that is, whatever happened, it’s not him. Right?” He held up a hand, gesturing for agreement.

  “I know that. I do. I’m scared.” He picked up his cup again, and this time he tasted it—cold and too bitter.

  “Okay, then. You know what to do. Buy me a cup of coffee and then get the hell outta here...” His smile was infectious, crinkling around his eyes which were almost as stunning as his own. His leathered face seemed ageless.

  Jeremy returned his smile and chuckled a little. “All right.”

  Knowing what to do and actually doing it weren’t always the same thing, though. And after a few more days of hanging out with Scottie and Tabatha, and waiting for Ollie, Jeremy had reached his limit. Ollie had very little time to spend with him, and although he understood it, he still couldn’t keep putting his life on hold. He didn’t know how else to deal with things. He couldn’t put words to it, other than needing to be home. Safe.

  Star was still loose, and Ollie’s bosses pressed them for results, but Jeremy didn’t think they would catch her. Plus, Ollie had a lot of work to do finishing his final report on how his app worked. He’d said he’d been working with a few other guys on their cases, too. By the time he got off work, he went home and crashed after talking with Jeremy on the phone. They both wanted more, but it wasn’t happening. It couldn’t happen.

  “Scottie. You’re off tomorrow, right?”

  Scottie nodded. “Yeah. You want to go, right?”

  “Yes. I can’t keep putting this off.”

  “Are you even going to tell him you’re leaving?”

  Jeremy shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to tell Ollie anything. He couldn’t face it. Everything was sharp edges, and telling Ollie would be like stabbing himself in the heart. He was avoiding pain at Ollie’s expense, but he had to go home and get back to his life. And maybe forget this whole trip to Jacksonville had ever happened. He was running. He was a coward, and he didn’t deserve Ollie.

  The next day, he had his new duffle packed with the few clothes he had left. His old duffle was still in police evidence lock up with most of his clothes. He still couldn’t believe the police had taken it. He had to borrow some of Scottie’s clothes, and then Tabatha bought him a few things at Walmart. The whole situation made him feel like a charity case. No one had taken care of him since his dad’s girlfriend when he was in high school. But once he’d graduated, his dad split and so did she. He’d been on his own ever since and without much trouble. This experience was the worst of his life and he kind of wanted to forget about it and move on.

  His aunt died. He was ripped off. He’d lost everything. The bank should return what had been in his checking account, but it still might be a few more weeks. The insurance company said he could expect a check for the car, but it wasn’t going to be nearly enough, and he wouldn’t get that for another few weeks, either. And...his heart was broken.

  Fuck! He needed to get back to work. That would make everything better.

  Tabatha got up early and made breakfast burritos for them to take. Flour tortillas stuffed with scrambled egg, sausage and chili seasoning—perfect for a road trip. Scottie filled a thermos with hot coffee, and they piled into the car.

  About twenty minutes into the trip, they cruised down a long stretch of I-4, outside of Jacksonville. Scottie grumbled under his breath and fiddled with the radio until he found an upbeat song—Victorious by Panic at the Disco. “Sing this!” Scottie pointed at the radio as he demanded Jeremy’s vocal obedience.

  Jeremy tried to ignore it and turned his head to stare out the window.

  “You sing or I will.”

  “I don’t know this one.” Jeremy hoped his lie would shut him up.

  Nope. Scottie sang, annihilating the tune. “Fifty words for murder...”

  “Oh, no. Holy Earth Mother. Stop. Stop.”

  “Sing then.”

  “Fine.” He hummed along until the end of the chorus. “Oh... we gotta turn up the crazy...”

  By the time the song finished, he’d not only sung loudly, but he’d bobbed around to the music and done his hand motions. Then the song was over, and he wanted more. Commercials followed, so Jeremy played with the dial until he hit a classic station. The Cars, Just What I Needed. Perfect.

  Thirty-Three – Ollie

  Ollie paced across the living room of his apartment. The last time Jeremy didn’t answer his texts, he’d been taken hostage by a band of thieves that acted like they were some kind of new mob or something. Low life con-artists and drug addicts was a better description. Even though one of them, Star, managed to get away, Ollie didn’t think she would be stupid enough to go after Jeremy again. Plus, Jeremy was staying with his cousin rather than the condo because it was safer, or at least Jeremy thought that. Ollie and his D-TAPPPSS app were both 89.4% sure Star had left the state by now. The rest of the idiots were in custody.

  So, why wasn’t Jeremy answering his texts? Weren’t they back on good terms?

  “Fuck this!”

  He pulled on his new boots, laced them up, and tugged his jeans over the top of them. With fierce determination to fix whatever thing Jeremy imagined was broken, Ollie grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out. His aviators fogged up when he stepped outside, and he had to wipe them on his shirt and squint his eyes before he could get to his bike.

  The sun was high overhead and hot as hell under his golf shirt. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, but the wind in his face made up for it. He navigated through the busy streets of Jacksonville to the northeast side of town where Scottie lived, where Jeremy seemed to be hiding out.

  He parked his bike on the crushed shell driveway. He liked how the shells popped and creaked as he drove over them and sounded like shuffling dirt and rock under his boots. He liked the Florida sun and the green everywhere...everywhere. A huge sago palm reached its fronds out over part of the driveway from its spot at the corner of the trailer. All through the park, various palms, grasses, banana trees, and those tropical paradise plants made even this old, run down, trashy neighborhood look like a beachy wonderland. He even liked the oppressive humidity that made him think he could probably drink the air ins
tead of breathing it. Could see himself sitting on a faded deck with Jeremy in threadbare lawn chairs, sipping fruity drinks. They’d be barefoot and shirtless, coming in from the beach or park or river or a drive through Jacksonville on his bike. Easy. It could all be so easy.

  He stomped up the stairs and banged on the door. He heard footsteps echoing through the trailer, coming closer, but when the door opened, the girlfriend peeked out, rather than Jeremy.

  “Oh, hey.” She didn’t sound surprised, as much as...concerned? Frustrated? Either way, she was not too happy to see Ollie, and that was obvious in her tone.

  “Where’s Jeremy?”

  “Uh...not here. Want to come in?” She didn’t sound sure of her invitation, and the worry lines on her forehead made Ollie think that him coming in was the last thing she wanted.

  “No. Thank you. Do you know where he went? When he’ll be back?”

  She bit her bottom lip. Her eyes said she knew but didn’t want to tell. “He, uh...won’t be back. At least not for a while. Maybe Christmas?” Her half shrug did not reassure Ollie at all.

  He recognized what she wasn’t saying, though. “He’s gone. Like back to Clearwater, gone.” It wasn’t a question, but the girl confirmed with a little nod.

  “I’m sorry Detective—”

  “Not detective.”

  “Okay, but you’re still a cop.” She smiled a little then. “You did save him. Seriously, do you want to come in?” This time the invitation seemed honest.

  Ollie shook his head anyway. “No...uh...” He looked down at his boots.

  “Hey. Listen. I know Jeremy likes you. He’s, oh, I don’t know...scared? This isn’t like him. Getting involved with someone, I mean.” She stretched her arm up the side of the door and leaned into it. “He’s never had anyone serious, as far as I know. I think maybe, I don’t know, he hasn’t had the best role models in his life. His dad...did he tell you about his dad? Scottie says he was a piece of shit and as soon as he was off the hook he split. He’d only taken Jeremy in out of spite to begin with. Yeah, a real winner there, I tell you. But, shit...I don’t mean to be gossiping...I don’t mean to be talking about their family drama. It’s well...I don’t know...like I said, he does like you. A lot. Maybe he doesn’t know how to show it.” She held up her free hand and gave another half shrug.

  While she’d been talking, something churned in the back of Ollie’s mind. He looked at the girl for a moment. Her long scraggly hair fell in her face, half covering her brown eyes. She wore a big oversized t-shirt and jean cut-offs. A typical Florida girl.

  Maybe all of this Florida-ness was getting under his skin a little. Not unlike how he’d wanted to get under Jeremy’s. Somehow that plan had backfired on him. “You have his address?”

  “Jeremy’s? In Clearwater, you mean?”

  It was all he could do to keep from saying, “Duh!” So, he went with, “Uh, yeah...” instead.

  The girl smiled then, and her face lit up like Christmas, and her eyes sparkled with mischief, like a little kid spying on her parents setting out holiday surprises. That smile made all the difference, and Ollie could appreciate what Scottie probably liked about her then. “You got it. Hang on.”

  She went back in the trailer but left the door hanging open. The carpet inside was brown and old, and the couch looked like it came from the 70’s, covered in plaid and not a good plaid, either. The fake wood-paneled walls only made it feel that much older. A big portrait hung on the wall over the sofa—a family, probably from the 80’s by the style of clothes and hair. He didn’t have one bit of trouble picking out Jeremy and his stunning eyes. Even as a young boy of eight or nine, maybe ten years old at the most, Jeremy was beautiful. His hair had been cut in that feathered style and parted down the middle, and hanging above his eyebrows, and was darker than it was now. His smile was a cheesy boy’s smile, but happy. Ollie wondered if this had been taken before his mother had died.

  The girlfriend came back to the door and stuck her hand out. “Here.”

  Ollie took the paper she’d been holding. Jeremy’s address. “Thanks.” He held it up a second and then tucked it in his back pocket. He had a trip to make.

  He headed home first to quickly pack an overnight bag. He changed into a tank top and grabbed his leather jacket. Tooling around town was one thing, but a trip across the state required a bit more protection. He also grabbed his helmet. He punched the address into the GPS on his phone, gassed up on the way out of town, then took off toward the opposite coast of Florida.

  Thirty-Four – Jeremy

  Journal Entry: It’s kind of strange writing this in the car on the way home. Things have changed so much over the last few weeks. It almost seems like I’m traveling back in time as we cruise I-4, back to Clearwater, back to the beginning. But I’m already lonely and haven’t even gotten there yet. At least I’ll be back at the beach. It will be good to get back into the swing of things—back to the patterns of life. Back on the right path. Back on my path. If not the right one, at least the familiar one.

  Jeremy unlocked his door and stepped inside. His whole body sighed and relaxed. Home.

  Over the years, he’d managed to get the place exactly how he wanted it, and every inch of it reflected Jeremy’s personality, his style. He’d ripped up the crap-tastic carpet and slowly managed to tile the floor in a creamy ceramic that he’d gotten on clearance from Home Depot. A few had chipped spots here and there, but the style had been discontinued so he couldn’t replace any of it. He had to look at the imperfections as something that added character.

  His couch was an old piece of junk, but he’d covered it with a soft canvas and throw pillows with blue stripes and one that had a big blue star on it—very nautical. Over the couch, he’d hung his masterpiece—an old surfboard. It had been in shitty condition when he found it beside a dumpster behind some shoppettes in downtown Clearwater. The backend was busted off and cracked, but Jeremy sanded it and painted it a soft blue, and then used his hand as a stamp to press out painted handprints in green and gold. It went perfectly with the soft, pale yellow he’d painted the walls. He’d added a rattan floor mat and the one thing he actually paid decent money for, his faded wood coffee table that sat on top of it. Across from the couch, he had a cheap Walmart entertainment stand that held his flat screen TV. It wasn’t nearly as big as the one they’d lost from Aunt Christy’s. He’d offered to replace it, but Scottie refused.

  He fingered his shark tooth necklace and stepped farther inside. “Hey, Scottie. If you want to sleep over and head back tomorrow, I’ll let you take my bed.”

  “Nah. Let’s get some dinner and relax a bit, and then I’ll head out.” He followed Jeremy inside and looked around. “I can see why you wanted to get home. This is so nice, Jere.”

  “Thanks. Yeah. I like it. Check out my bedroom.” He pointed down the short hallway, and Scottie pushed the door open and flipped on the lights.

  The walls and ceiling were a swirl of blues and greens. The floor had been tiled with glazed porcelain in a mid-tone brown that looked very warm and reminded Jeremy of cinnamon toast. He’d also gotten this tile on clearance. When he tiled his room, he didn’t leave grout lines, so the tile looked almost uninterrupted.

  His queen-sized bed hadn’t been made and stood in the center of the room, as he’d left it, with sheets and comforter crumpled at the end of the bed and pillows smooshed up together in the center. On the other side of the bed, the room opened to a tiny outside patio through a glass slider. His yard was so small he could stand at the door and lean forward to touch the back privacy fence, but it let sun in the room, and that made him feel more connected to nature. He had one patio chair and a tiny table on top of the small concrete slab. He liked to sit out there and read in the afternoons and drink coffee in the mornings.

  “Did you do all this yourself?”

  Jeremy scratched his head. “Yeah. You like? It was fun.”

  “It’s incredible. Why are you tending bar when you could be a design
er or something?”

  Jeremy laughed. “It’s only shit I like. Doesn’t make me a designer.” He glanced around his room. The furniture was simple rattan. He had a few pictures on the wall, all beach scenes, and one art piece made from driftwood and seashells that a friend of his had created for him. “I’m happy behind the bar.”

  “Whatever you say, dude.” Scottie clapped him on the shoulder. “Gotta take a piss. Where’s your bathroom?”

  He directed Scottie back out to the bathroom. It still had linoleum floors and the cheap pressboard cabinets, but he’d painted it bright blue and decorated with seashells and a beach themed shower curtain. He rolled up blue and white towels and stuck them on the shelf with a huge conch shell that had been varnished.

  Scottie came out of the bathroom. “You sure you’re not into design? I’m fucking amazed, dude.”

  “Shut up.” Jeremy was proud of what he’d done to his little apartment, but that was the extent of it. “Pizza or what?”

  Scottie paid for the pizza, and then made Jeremy take some extra money. “Take it as an early Christmas present. You need it. So shut it, already.”

  Jeremy finally gave in but promised not to wait until Christmas to visit again, but also said he wouldn’t be in a huge hurry. “No offense, but this last time was too much. You know?”

  “I get it. We miss you, though.”

  “No reason why y’all can’t come visit for a weekend.”

  “Right. We will.”

  “Let me know about the condo.” They’d agreed to sell it, and Tabatha’s friend had listed it for them. He didn’t know what he’d do with his share of the money, probably save it.

  A few more goodbyes and Scottie left. Jeremy plopped down on his couch, relieved. He needed some alone time to recharge and repair his heart. He missed Ollie and felt overwhelmingly guilty that he hadn’t said goodbye or even told him he was leaving...and ignored his texts. He had to break things off, but he couldn’t go through with it if he had to actually say the words, face-to-face, or even on the phone. It probably was a mistake, but Jeremy sought out the safety of reverting back to the familiar.