by Lou Harper
“Are you gonna shave it all off?” Jay asked, regarding the thick beard covering Sam’s face.
“Just part. Keeping the mustache.”
“Could you leave your sideburns longer too?”
“Can do. Now get moving.”
When Sam emerged from the bathroom, Jay had to suppress a moan. Sam looked too fucking hot for words. There was something retro about the long sideburns and thick mustache, but in a good way, especially with Sam’s self-assured attitude. Jay scrambled into the shower, and set the water temperature to cold.
A little while later they took off on foot in the general direction of a crop of tall glass buildings. Jay wasn’t overly impressed.
“Is that it? It looks a bit underwhelming,” he remarked.
“It’s probably not a good idea to build a bunch of skyscrapers right on top of an earthquake fault line.”
“Ah. That makes sense.”
Jay was far more taken by the quality of the graffiti adorning the walls they walked past. Some of them covered entire buildings and went several stories high. He thought they were pretty cool. The grungy streets slowly gave way to newly built condos and signs promising “luxury accommodations”. Japanese language signs started appearing. Sam’s eyes scanned the streets, the faces of every passerby as they walked.
“Have you been to LA before?” Jay inquired.
“A few times with Frank, and once alone after he died. There was more grime and less urban renewal last time.”
They headed for a strip mall. Sam pulled them into a small camera store that offered instant passport photos. A few minutes later they were back on the street, with photos in hand. They ended up having coffee and muffins for breakfast at a Starbucks. Jay realized that they were sitting in a corner, their backs to the wall. Sam even insisted that Jay sit next to him, not across. Even as he was taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi and working on the laptop, Sam kept glancing up and giving a laser stare to every person entering the shop. At last Sam pushed the laptop in front of Jay. There was an old news article from the Chicago Tribune on the screen, illustrated with a black-and-white photo of two men.
Sam pointed at one of the men. “That’s Gino Rizzi. The picture is a few years old, but he can’t have changed much. Gino does a lot of Nicky’s legwork. Wherever you see one, the other’s not far away.”
“Who’s the other man?”
“That’s Big Sal, but you don’t have to worry about him. I copied the picture to the desktop. I want you to memorize his face.”
“Okay.”
Jay tried commit Gino Rizzi’s features to memory, but unlike Nick Torino, he wasn’t particularly memorable. As he sipped his Grande Caffè Latte and stared at the men in the photos, Jay wondered what was going to happen next. Where did he and Sam stand now? Sam hadn’t tried to get rid of him for days. That was good. Were they going to stay in LA or keep running? It wasn’t like Jay missed Coldwater, but at least there he knew the setup and there was a certain rhythm to their lives. Here he was up a creek without a clue. On one hand, he felt he’d gotten much closer to Sam during the last few days, on the other, Sam still played his cards close to his chest, leaving Jay off-balance. Jay didn’t even know if Sam was still pretending to be straight in public or not. Jay didn’t see the need any more, but what the fuck did he know? Maybe Sam was so used to it he couldn’t be any other way. Sam’s voice roused Jay from his thoughts.
“Better get going, we have an appointment.”
“Where?”
“Venice Beach. Not far.”
That explained fuck-all to Jay, as usual.
In the car Sam fiddled with the GPS for a minute.
“I’m guessing you don’t know much about LA either,” Jay said.
“No, not from personal experience. You can learn only so much on the internet. I know that the freeways are a fucking nightmare, there’s smog, and the sun always shines, even in winter.”
“All I know is from the movies.”
“I’m sure it’s all very useful knowledge that will come in handy.”
“If we ever get into a high-speed car chase on the freeway. With helicopters.”
“It could happen,” Sam deadpanned.
Their destination turned out to be a vaguely Spanish-style stucco house on a residential street. Jay was disappointed at not seeing even a strip of beach around.
Before getting out of the car, Sam gave Jay a little pep talk. “Phil’s one of my uncle’s ‘friends’. He used to supply the fake IDs for all the illegal immigrants working in Frank’s sweatshop. He’ll see us because he knows me, and because of my uncle. It means a large measure of trust letting me bring you. Be respectful, okay?”
“Of course, Sam.”
He didn’t know why Sam felt the need for such a warning till he saw their host. The scruffy, middle-aged, blond man who opened the door didn’t naturally command respect. With his weather-beaten face and loud Hawaiian shirt, the man was the perfect picture of an aging hippy. He sounded like one too.
“Hey, Rob my man, long time no see,” Phil greeted Sam, giving Jay a jolt of surprise.
Jay opened his mouth then quickly clammed it shut.
“Been busy. How’ve you been, Phil?” Sam said as their host waved them inside.
“Can’t complain. Sorry about your uncle.”
“He had a good life. This is Jay.”
Jay shook the man’s offered hand. Phil’s gaze, sharp as cut glass, skimmed over Jay.
“Nice to meet you, Jay. Hey, let’s go out back. You gotta see my babies.”
Phil led them outside through sliding glass doors. Half the backyard was taken up with a large koi pond. For a couple of minutes Sam and Phil were having polite chitchat about fat red-and-white fish, while Jay stood aside in respectful silence.
“Wicked ’stache, man.” Phil finally turned the conversation away from the fish.
“Thanks,” Sam replied, brushing his fingers over his new mustache.
“So what can I do for you?”
“I need a couple of California driver’s licenses for me and my friend,” Sam said, putting a hand on Jay’s shoulder. It was a casual gesture, but not without a sign of intimacy.
Phil looked at them, measuring them up for a second. Jay saw the glint of recognition in his eyes.
“You got photos?”
Sam handed over the small envelope.
“Regular or the real deal?” Phil asked all business-like.
“Real deal and it’s a rush.”
“That’ll be extra.”
“Not a problem.”
Phil gave a crooked grin. “You got Frank’s style. I dig. You can pick them up tomorrow. Come in with me.” Phil cast a swift glimpse at Jay.
“Why don’t you stay out here, Tiger. I’ll be back in a minute,” Sam said.
So Jay stayed and watched the fish swimming around. When he knelt down by the pond and dipped his fingers in the water, the koi headed straight to him, probably expecting food. They were docile enough to let him run his fingers over their scaly backs. Oh great, he was petting fish. He looked up, toward the house. Through the glass he saw Sam talking and Phil nodding. In the end, Sam took a roll of money out of his pocket and handed most of it over to the other man. Jay turned his attention back to the fish as the exchange concluded.
A few seconds later Sam shouted from the door. “C’mon, Tiger, let’s go.”
In the car Jay finally felt free to speak. “He wasn’t what I expected.”
“Phil’s not what he seems at first sight.”
Yeah, Jay figured that out. “I’m guessing if you have a face like Nick Nolte’s mug shot, nobody will take you for a master criminal.”
Sam’s deep, throaty laugh filled the car.
“Rob?”
“Hm?”
“I didn’t know that was your real name.”
“It’s not. Not anymore.”
“Okay,” Jay said, and after a moment of thinking he added, “what’s ‘real deal’?”
“That’s a fake driver’s license that’s not fake.”
“Come again?”
“You just need to bribe the right person at the DMV to put a fake name in the system and it spits out a real driver’s license. So even if you get stopped by cops and they run it through the computer, it doesn’t get flagged. It’s worth the extra expense.”
“Wow.”
“So, Tiger, what do you want to do? I think we can take it easy for a day after all that traveling.”
“If this place is called Venice Beach, it’s safe to assume that the ocean is nearby, correct?”
“That’s an excellent deduction, Watson. You’ve never been to the ocean, have you?”
“No. The most water I’ve ever seen was when the Missouri River flooded back in ’93. I was only five, but I remember it looking very muddy.”
Sam grinned at him. “Well, let’s go check out the real thing.”
They eventually found a public parking place close enough to the beach charging less than twenty bucks. Jay was getting the impression that gauging money for parking was a recurring theme in LA. They took their shoes off and rolled their jeans up before walking down to the sandy shore. Jay spent a good long minute just taking it all in. The waves coming in one after another, each different yet the same, the constant sound—it was all strangely hypnotic. He rolled up his jeans and stood at the edge of the water, letting the waves lick his calves.
“So what’s the verdict?” Sam asked.
“It’s fucking huge!”
“It is,” Sam agreed.
“I knew it was gonna be big, but it’s different knowing and seeing it for yourself. I dunno, it feels like this is it, end of the road. Beyond here there’s just water and more water. You know what I mean?”
Sam was giving him a funny look, so Jay took a step closer. Sam seized him by the head and kissed him. Sam was full of surprises—some better than others. This was their first public kiss. Yeah okay, they were on a beach, but there were people around, quite a few, actually. Jay didn’t care, he melted into the kiss.
“Does this mean we’re done pretending to be straight?” Jay asked when they broke apart.
“Yup.”
They spent the rest of the day in Venice Beach, just walking around, gawking, being tourists. It was nice, even if the tension from Sam’s body was never quite gone, and his eyes kept sweeping the stream of people like a hawk’s. Strolling down the promenade, they popped into shops and dodged other gawkers, bumping into each other. At one point Sam put his arm around Jay and hooked a thumb into Jay’s belt loop. They walked down half the boardwalk like that.
Stopping for lunch in one of the local restaurants, they sat in the patio area so they could people-watch better. The food was decent, far better than what they had had on the road. Their waitress was blonde and bouncy and vaguely familiar.
Jay watched Sam scrutinize the flow of tourists passing by the sidewalk. Sam’s brows drew together, creating a sharp line over the bridge of his nose. His fingers were drumming on the table to the beat of his thoughts.
“Sam?”
Sam’s fingers halted. “Tiger?”
“Aren’t we safe now?”
Sam gave him a sour smile. “We’ll never be safe as long as Joey Gianco’s alive. Maybe they’re searching for us in Florida right now, maybe not. One thing’s for sure—Joey will never stop looking.”
“So you’ll be this strung up from now on?”
“It’s like Murphy’s Law—the moment you let your guard down, the shit hits the fan.”
“Murphy was a bastard.”
Their discussion was interrupted by their waitress bringing the check. That hazy feeling that he’d seen her somewhere before tugged at Jay once more.
When they were left alone again, Sam was the first to speak. “Have you thought at all about what we talked about in Denver?”
Jay’s jaws clenched stubbornly. “If you mean leaving, then no.”
“All right then. Just checking. I meant what I said. You can leave whenever you change your mind and I won’t stop you, but as long as you’re with me what I say goes. It’s for your safety, but most of all because you’re mine. Got it?”
It was that confident, possessive tone that made goose bumps run all over Jay’s body. He nodded.
“Good. I think it’s time you got a permanent reminder of it,” Sam said, tossing money on the table.
“Oh? What do you have in mind?” Jay asked, perking up.
“You’ll see.”
Jay had learned that when Sam got like that there was no use poking, so he tucked his curiosity away for the time being. It was minutes after leaving the restaurant that the light bulb blinked on in Jay’s head. He stopped and slapped his forehead.
“I knew it!”
“Knew what?”
“The waitress, I knew I’d seen her before! She was in one of those werewolf TV shows. It was just a small role, that’s why I couldn’t remember before.”
“You’ll have to be more specific—there are about a dozen of them.”
“Werewolves are hot right now. It had to be the one on HBO because she showed her tits.”
“Were they nice?”
Jay thought back—they were round with pointy nipples. “I guess so. I was watching it for Morgan the alpha werewolf. He’s so fucking sexy! There’s this one episode where Morgan bites Tom in werewolf form, not hard enough to turn him, but there’s some connection between them, and one night Tom has this totally hot dream of getting it on with Morgan.”
“As a wolf?”
“No, no. In human form. Morgan is all powerful and commanding—it’s totally hot.”
Sam chuckled and pulled Jay into a body-art shop.
“My friend would like a nipple ring,” he said with a big grin to the girl behind the counter.
The chick looked at Jay questioningly. She herself had half a dozen piercings on her face and tattoos over all her exposed skin from the neck down. Jay looked back at her and nodded with all the self-confidence he could pull together.
“Just leave it alone!” Sam snapped as Jay reached toward his sore nipple again. “I swear, I’ll shackle you if you don’t stop messing with that ring.”
“Is that a promise?” Jay asked, because the idea was appealing.
“You can count on it.”
It was dark and they were heading back to their place. On their way they stopped at a supermarket, picking up some food stuff, a crap-ton of cleaning supplies and a bag of frozen peas for Jay’s nipple. Sam also bought a Thomas Guide.
“What the hell is this?” Jay asked, bewildered, when they got into the car and Sam dropped it in his lap.
“The map of LA.”
“It’s a fucking book!”
“You should familiarize yourself with it. It’ll be useful if we’re gonna stick around here for a while.”
“Are we?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Cool.”
“You like it here?”
“I don’t know yet, but I like not being in a small town.” What he didn’t say was that most of all he liked the fact Sam could be out with him here.
Once they got back to their new home they unloaded the car, but didn’t bother with much else. They had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and milk for dinner. The place was hot and stuffy, but they figured out that the skylights could be opened. The latches were jammed with rust but eventually Sam forced them open. Cooler night air flooded the loft. After turning all the lights off, they fucked under the night sky.
Chapter Eleven
SR: Florida is a bust, as I told you it would be.
NT: Fuck!
SR: There are a few other leads I want to follow up.
NT: Well stop yapping and get on it!
Sam had a lot to sort out. When he’d left that morning, Jay’d been still sleeping. Sam left a note with strict instructions to get the place clean, and then spent the rest of the day chasing down a couple of his unc
le’s old acquaintances. He’d last been to LA not long before the Vince business, and a lot had changed since. Not all of Frank’s former associates were as steady as Phil. Sam didn’t plan to pick up where Frank left off, but it was wise to rekindle a few useful connections. Not all, just the ones who could get him out of a jam. Fortunately, the one person Sam needed to reconnect with the most was exactly where he’d last seen him.
Mr. Bean’s office was in a nondescript building on Wilshire Boulevard. Sam pushed the buzzer and looked straight into the security camera. The door clicked open a second later, and Sam took the narrow staircase to the second floor. Mr. Bean stood up from behind his ancient desk as Sam entered the office. Alfred Bean was a short, wiry Korean man with no evident sense of humor. After their initial greetings, they settled into the chairs at opposite sides of the desk. Sam looked around. The room, with its heavy wooden furniture and sunlight filtering through dusty blinds, seemed to be from another time period entirely. Mr. Bean himself had to be at least fifty years old, but could’ve been eighty. It was hard to tell. His skin was like brown parchment marked with fine lines. In the half decade since Sam had last seen him, Mr. Bean hadn’t changed an iota.
“It’s a pleasure having your company again, Mr. Cooper,” Mr. Bean said with the slightest accent.
Cooper was yet another alias Sam hid behind. No doubt Mr. Bean was aware of its falseness, but he was not a man given to curiosity. Mr. Bean’s business was based on confidentiality and discretion. As Sam’s uncle had once put it, “Mr. Bean looked after things.” Those things being boats, real estate, vehicles, and items large and small.
“I’ll be staying in town for a while. You’ll see a jump in utility bills,” Sam said.
Mr. Bean nodded, and asked no questions.
Sam went on. “I might leave suddenly, without notice. You’ll know what to do.”
These were formalities, Sam knew. Mr. Bean had taken care of the property for the past five years—made sure the utilities remained turned on, bills, taxes paid—with no more contact from Sam than the once or twice a year e-mail exchange that Sam had conducted from the Butte public library. As soon as he saw the dip in the utility bills when they left, Mr. Bean would come around, make sure the property was secured, and would look after it as he had before.