Stumptown

by A M Huff

  Stumptown

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Stumptown | A. M. Huff

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Ninteen

  Chapter Twenty

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Stumptown

  A. M. Huff

  Copyright © 2017 James M. McCracken

  JaMarque Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-7329347-3-3

  Cover Design by J Caleb Design

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book was printed in the United States of America.

  DEDICATION

  To my dear friend and sister-in-law,

  Pamela Bainbridge-Cowan.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Special thanks to Barbara Larin-Blair, Ruth Bradley, Jonathan Eaton, Chris Forcier, Anthony Huff, Pushpa Huff, Phyllis Jensen, Betsy Jones, Michael Anne Maslow, Kathleen Mooney, Bill Ray and Lea Sevey for their encouragement and support.

  Chapter One

  Colorful lights pulsated and spun above the dance floor in time with the loud music. Stumptown, the favorite Friday night hangout of Justus Reynolds and his four friends, was practically dead. Only half the usual crowd was out.

  “Where are they?” Dale asked while he looked at the door for the umpteenth time.

  “Maybe they aren’t coming,” Justus answered. He took another sip of his spiced rum and Coke.

  “No, they’re always here,” Dale said and shook his head.

  Justus and his four friends were an eclectic group. The one Justus had known the longest was Dale. They lived on the same street and had gone to the same high school, though Dale was a year ahead. They had not been friends back then.

  Justus had never suspected Dale’s orientation. Dale was the poster boy for straight jocks with his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He lifted weights and ran laps. He played on the basketball team, hung out with the tough guys and even dated one of the cheerleaders. His kind beat up the boys like Justus.

  It was not until after graduation that Dale came out, or was thrust out, after he was busted for an indiscretion in the men’s room of a Fred Meyer store in Tigard. After reading about it in the local paper, Justus ran into Dale on the street. Dale apologized for the way he had treated Justus and the two had become friends.

  Even though Dale was barely a year and a couple months older than Justus, who was the youngest of the group at twenty-two, they all teased Dale, calling him Daddy. Justus told Dale it was because he seemed more serious and tended to worry and fuss all the time. Dale was quick to point out that Marcus was two months older than him and Jack was actually the oldest since he was twenty-seven.

  Dale and Justus had both met Jack at the same time. Justus had been helping Dale move into an apartment off NW 22nd Avenue on Flanders in Portland. It was the first place Dale had been able to find after being thrown out of his parents’ house following the incident, as Dale’s parents referred to it. Justus was helping move Dale’s box spring mattress when it became stuck in the stairwell. Dale was trapped at the top while Justus was pinned at the bottom between the wall and mattress, unable to move. Jack had come up the stairs like a knight in shining armor. Between Dale and him, they were able to free the mattress and Justus and get the box springs into Dale’s apartment. As luck would have it, Jack was Dale’s new neighbor across the hall. He had just passed the Bar Exam and was a lawyer at a small law firm in the trendy Pearl District.

  On the other hand, Marcus had been one of the first guys Justus met at Stumptown. Justus had heard of the nightclub through ads in Willamette Week and counted down the days until he was twenty-one. He was nervous walking into the club alone. The doorman did not help, questioning him over and over about his ID before finally letting Justus in.

  Stumptown was everything Justus had imagined: bright colorful lights, loud danceable music, and wall-to-wall men. It did not take long before Justus noticed that he seemed to be the youngest person there. He bought the cheapest drink he knew, a rum and Coke, and settled into a chair at a corner table to watch.

  Then in walked Marcus. His blonde hair glowed like a halo in the lights. He had a thin, neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He smiled and greeted everyone he saw, waving at others across the club. The bartender seemed to know what Marcus drank and handed a glass to him without Marcus having to place an order. I want to be like him.

  Justus could not remember how long he had been sitting in the corner, nursing his one drink before Marcus spotted him. He walked over to the table.

  “Mind if I sit down?” he asked.

  “Sure, go ahead,” Justus answered, trying to sound calm and relaxed.

  “I haven’t seen you here before,” Marcus said and flashed a smile. Justus noticed his perfect teeth and lips.

  “It’s my first time,” Justus admitted. “Today’s my twenty-first birthday, actually.”

  That was all the invitation Marcus needed. Justus did not have to buy another drink for the rest of the night. Marcus bought him a “real drink” and led him around the nightclub, introducing him to all his friends and acquaintances. The two danced awhile before returning to their corner table. Justus still felt nervous, or the alcohol was kicking in. They sat, shoulder to shoulder, watching the crowded dance floor while sipping on their drinks. Then suddenly, Marcus shifted in his chair and turned toward Justus. Their eyes met and Marcus leaned closer. Their mouths met. Justus closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Marcus’ shoulders pulling him closer. He felt every inch of his skin come alive and tingle. It was his first kiss and Justus and never wanted it to stop.

  The next morning Justus woke up next to Marcus. He did not remember leaving the club, but he remembered everything else. He looked at Marcus lying next to him and felt a feeling he had never felt before. Could I be in love?

  Minutes later, Marcus woke up. Without a word or even a glance in Justus’ direction, he jumped out of bed, showered, and went downstairs to make coffee. The magic of the moment vanished. Alone in the shower, Justus realized that for Marcus the previous night had been nothing more than a one-night stand, a hookup. The kiss was just part of the game.

  It took a few weeks for Justus to get over his broken heart and for Marcus to move into the friend zone, but it happened eventually.

  “There’s Scotty,” Dale announced, pulling Justus out of his thoughts.

  Justus looked across the dance floor and spotted Scotty standing beside the front door. “Yoo-hoo,” Justus stood up and called out. He waved to Scotty.

  Scotty ducked his head and began making his way over to them.

  Eugene Brodie was Scotty’s real name, but no one called him that except his family. He earned the nickname, Scotty, because he was a Trekkie and had red hair.
He was a print technician for Qwik Print two blocks from the U.S. Bancorp Tower where Justus worked. He and Justus had met when Justus was in a hurry to have some copies made for Harrison on the day when both the printers in Justus’ office were being serviced.

  As it turned out, Scotty was a few months older than Justus. He was very quiet, almost prudish. He had a one-bedroom condo in the Grandview on SW 14th Avenue and walked to work. In fact, Scotty walked everywhere or took TriMet.

  It took several months of Justus’ coaxing to get Scotty to join the gang on Friday nights and several more months before Scotty learned to relax a bit. Part of the problem, as Scotty confided in Justus one day, was that he was still a virgin. He did not believe in hooking up just for fun. He said it was the way he was raised. “Sex was something you waited until you were married to do and then only with your mate.”

  “But how will you find a husband if you don’t put out?” Justus had asked, to which Scotty only shrugged his shoulders.

  “What took you so long?” Justus asked and gave Scotty a welcoming hug once Scotty reached the group’s usual table. Justus moved over to the empty chair between Dale and the half-wall that separated the dance floor from the seating area.

  “Long day,” he answered. He pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “Good to see you,” Dale said, sounding a bit distracted and on edge. He gulped down the last of his Jack Daniels on ice.

  A bare-chested man with six-pack abs holding a small round tray appeared over Dale’s shoulder. In the ever-changing colored lights, it was hard to tell the true shade of the man’s frosted hair, but Justus still felt his heart flutter.

  “Can I get you something from the bar?” he asked. His voice was deep and sultry, the kind that made Justus’ knees weak.

  “Coke is fine,” Scotty said, barely loud enough to be heard over the blaring music.

  “Great, and you?” He looked at Justus.

  “A Captain Morgan’s and Coke.”

  “And another Jack for you?” he asked Dale.

  “Please,” Dale answered and grinned.

  “Coming right up.”

  Dale turned in his chair and watched the server return to the bar.

  “Okay, put it back in your pants,” Justus snipped and took a sip of his own drink while the stirrings in his loins waned.

  Dale turned around.

  “So now all we’re waiting for are Marcus and Jack,” Justus said. He glanced at the door again.

  “Speaking of Jack,” Dale spoke up. “Have either of you seen or heard from him?”

  Justus glanced at Scotty and shook his head. “No. Why?”

  “Because I haven’t seen him since the Valentine’s Party two weeks ago,” Dale answered.

  “Not even in your apartment building?” Scotty asked.

  “No. I ran into the mailman the other day who asked about him because Jack’s mailbox was full.”

  “Come to think about it, both of you guys didn’t show up last week for our Friday night. Where were you?”

  Dale started to answer when the handsome server returned with their drinks. He placed a white cocktail napkin on the table in front of each of them. After they handed him their money, he set their drinks on them. Dale pulled out his wallet and held up his money.

  The server smiled and put his hand over Dale’s. “Keep it. It’s on the house,” he said with a wink.

  “Are you sure?” Dale asked. When the server nodded Dale handed him a five. “Then this is for you.”

  “I hope that’s not all I get,” he replied, while he slipped the money down the front of his apron-wrapped jeans.

  Dale’s mouth dropped open and then he smiled. The waiter turned around and left.

  “Oh, my, God, did you see that?” Dale gasped.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Justus groaned. “So, back to Jack. The night of the party was crazy. The last time I saw him he was dancing with some guy. I left so I don’t know what happened after that.”

  “Yeah, I saw who you left with,” Dale quipped. “What about you, Scott?”

  “Don’t look at me. I left before Justus, remember? And now that I think about it, Jack hasn’t brought anything to the shop. He’s normally by about two or three times a week.”

  The entrance door opened again and the people nearest the doors came alive. Their voices rose above the loud music.

  “Marcus is here,” Scotty said and sat up a bit straighter. He smiled and watched Marcus make his way through the small gathering.

  Justus noticed the change in Scotty’s demeanor. It spoke volumes. Scotty and Marcus had a strange friendship. Marcus was forever teasing Scotty, calling him a prude and telling him he needed to loosen up and get laid. Scotty quietly took it. However, once Scotty had surprised everyone when he told Marcus, “Better a prude than a regular at the free clinic.” Marcus had just laughed and the two continued their little banter.

  “Hi guys!” Marcus greeted the table when he finally made it across the club. He pulled out the empty chair and sat down beside Scotty. He leaned over and kissed Scotty’s cheek, which made Scotty blush and look as though he were about to die.

  The server returned and not so shyly leaned against Dale’s shoulder. Dale looked up at him and smiled.

  “Can I get you something from the bar?” he asked Marcus and tried not to smile.

  “I’ll have a Tequila Sunrise,” Marcus answered.

  “Perfect, be right back.”

  Again, Dale turned and watched the server retreat back to the bar.

  “So, what are you all talking about?” Marcus asked and waved at someone across the room.

  “Dale was asking if anyone has heard from or seen Jack lately,” Justus answered.

  Marcus frowned and shook his head. “I haven’t. In fact, I tried calling him at work this morning and the receptionist said he hasn’t shown up for two weeks. She said to tell him if he doesn’t show up for work Monday to forget it. The boss says he’s fired.”

  “Fired?” Scotty gasped.

  “Oh no,” Dale said and slumped in his chair. “That job means everything to him. He loves it.”

  “Where could he be?”

  “Here you go,” the server interrupted and set the bright yellow and orange drink down in front of Marcus. He smiled and let his hand brush against Dale’s shoulder. “You need another?” he asked Dale.

  “No, I’m fine for now,” Dale answered.

  When the server left, Marcus grinned. “Somebody’s gonna get laid tonight!”

  Dale glanced over his shoulder and then looked at them. “You really think?”

  “Come off it, Dale. Even Scotty isn’t that naïve, no offense Scott,” Marcus scoffed.

  Scotty’s mouth dropped open but then he closed it and went back to nursing his very-diluted soft drink.

  “So, what are we going to do about Jack?” Dale asked changing the subject.

  “What can we do?” Marcus asked.

  “I don’t know, but we can’t just let it go,” Dale said. “Shouldn’t we call the police or something?”

  “Probably,” Justus answered.

  “Well, since you were the last to see him, Justus, perhaps you should talk to them,” Marcus suggested.

  “Fine, I’ll do it,” he agreed.

  At midnight, Scotty left and headed home. Justus sat alone with his drink staring out at the crowd that had already started to pair off. Marcus was sitting off in a corner with his latest conquest. The two were entwined and practically devouring each other. Dale was across the dance floor at the end of the bar, talking with his hot server.

  A lone man in the middle of the dated, parquet wood dance floor captured Justus’ attention, but not in any romantic sort of way. It was obvious the guy’d had too much to drink. He wiggled and gyrated, then pulled his shirt off and swung it around over his head. One of the bartenders rushed him and grabbed the shirt away before it could become entangled in the lights. The man reeled and fell on the floor. The two exchanged words before the bounc
er showed up and escorted the dancer to the time-out area by the door to wait for a taxi.

  “That was sure crazy,” a man said, causing Justus to jump and nearly sending the ice in his glass flying. “I’m sorry,” he quickly added.

  His apology would have sounded more sincere without the laughing, Justus thought.

  “Mind if I sit down?” he asked.

  “No, go ahead,” Justus answered. He looked the man over, gray temples, kind eyes, and a nice smile. His shirt was a bit last season but otherwise he was not too bad looking.

  “My name’s Dean,” he said. His voice was a deep baritone that sent Justus’ heart fluttering. Dean held out his hand.

  Justus shook it and felt the man’s firm grip. “Justus,” he introduced himself.

  “Can I get you another . . .?”

  “Captain Morgan’s and Coke.”

  Dean signaled for the server and ordered another round of drinks for the two of them.

  “I have to admit, I’ve seen you here many times but I never got up the courage to say hi,” Dean said.

  “Why tonight then?” Justus asked, sounding almost rude.

  Dean did not notice, possibly because of the loud music. “I guess when I saw your friends leave and you sitting here all alone, I thought, why not? Plus, I’ve had a few of these,” he said and held up his empty glass.

  “You work downtown?” Justus asked, trying to make conversation.

  “Yes, well, sort of. I work for a construction company that's remodeling some buildings in the Pearl.”

  “Oh, a construction worker.” Justus’ pulse picked up. He leaned over the table a little more.

  “What—”

  Their drinks arrived. Dean quickly pulled out a small wad of bills and paid the server. Stuffing his money back into his pocket, he looked at Justus.

  “What do you do?” he asked and took a sip of his drink.

  “Me? I work for an accounting firm on the twenty-eighth floor of the bank tower on Sixth. I’m a file clerk.” He said that last part a little softer hoping Dean would not catch it. A file clerk was not as hot as a construction worker. He picked up his drink. “Thank you for this,” he said and took a sip.