by A M Huff
“Thanks, I think,” Justus replied.
“So, did you have a good night? Did you get what you wanted?” Harrison changed the subject.
“Half of it. Marcus got a picture of Dean.”
“Not the other guy?”
“He wasn’t there.”
“I see,” Harrison said with a nod. “Coffee?”
“Sure, why not?” Justus answered. He knew he should be tired. He had not slept all night, but he felt wide awake.
Col. Mustard walked into the dining room from the hallway. He looked up at Justus and yowled as though telling Justus he woke him up.
“I’m sorry, Col. Mustard,” Justus apologized.
Col. Mustard continued to stand by the hall and yowl.
“What? Are you hungry?” Justus continued talking to the cat. “Well, let’s see if Harry’s got anything for you.”
He walked into the kitchen and Col. Mustard followed.
“I think he’s hungry,” Justus said.
“He’s always hungry,” Harrison answered and turned the coffee maker on to start brewing. “Coming right up,” he told Col. Mustard and grabbed a can of cat food from the pantry.
“So, where’s your hunky boyfriend?” Justus asked while he grabbed the orange juice pitcher from the top shelf in the fridge. “Leave early?”
“He left last night after we watched a movie and you know he’s not my boyfriend,” Harrison corrected him, sounding exasperated. He peeled the lid off the can and Col. Mustard started to meow louder and pace the floor by his water dish.
“Well, he’s a boy and he’s a friend,” Justus commented.
“He’s hardly a boy,” Harrison corrected.
“Ha!” Justus gave a triumphant laugh.
“Not everyone is gay, Justus.”
“In my world they are.”
“You know Douglas has a lady friend. He’s not into guys.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” Harrison answered and spooned the cat food into a crystal-cut, glass bowl.
“What about you?” Justus asked.
Harrison stopped and gave Justus one of his looks. “I’m not going to answer that again.”
“That’s okay.” Justus smiled and took a sip of his orange juice.
Outside the sun had begun to rise. Justus walked around the island and sat down on one of the stools.
“Hungry? I can fix us some scrambled eggs?” Harrison asked after he gave Col. Mustard his food.
“Got any ham left?”
“I think so.”
Justus noticed Harrison’s hand shaking when he picked an egg out of the carton.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. I guess I’m still upset over the phone call. You want toast?” Harrison asked.
“Sure,” Justus replied. He watched Harrison drop two slices of bread into the toaster. Justus knew his roommate well enough to know that not knowing where Danika was or if she was safe was torture. Besides him, Danika and her boys were Harrison’s only family. At least that is how Justus felt about Harrison, family.
The scrambled eggs ended up turning into ham and cheese omelets by the time Harrison finished cooking. He handed a plate to Justus and they carried their food into the dining room and sat down at the table. Justus looked at his omelet and took in a deep breath of the aroma. Harrison was a wonderful cook, something Justus wished he were. His attempt at making French toast had resulted in soggy, burnt bread and a kitchen that looked as though a flour bomb had gone off. After that, Harrison had forbidden him from ever cooking again.
“Slow down, it’s not a race,” Harrison said.
Justus looked up and sat back in his chair. He set his fork down and picked up his coffee cup. It was true; he did tend to eat quickly. It was a habit he had picked up a long time ago while growing up at home with his parents and three older sisters. Among the four of them, they had an understanding— the last one to finish eating had to wash the dishes. It took Justus quite a while to figure out how, but he was able to finish first and finally beat his sisters. It was now a habit that proved hard to break.
“So, how are Scotty and the guys?” Harrison tried to make conversation while he took small, leisurely bites.
“Scotty seems to be fine, back to his normal self. Dale is still drinking way too much, but it’s Marcus I’m worried about.”
“Really?” Harrison asked, sounding surprised. “Why?”
“He’s been acting a bit off lately.”
“How so?”
“He asked me a week or so ago to be the executor of his will.”
Harrison shrugged indifferently. “That’s normal. I mean, when someone owns property and has money it’s the responsible thing to do.”
Justus looked at Harrison as a thought hit him. “So, do you have a will?”
“I do,” Harrison answered and took a sip from his coffee cup.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“So, who’s your executor?”
“Douglas.”
“Oh, of course,” Justus said and grinned.
Harrison squinted and cocked his head. “So, is that the only reason you’re concerned about Marcus?”
“No,” Justus answered and his expression sobered. “Tonight, he seemed different. He was quieter and he stayed with us all night. He didn’t go off to find a hookup like he normally does.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. It’s probably nothing. He’ll be back to his old self in no time.”
“I suppose.”
The two finished their breakfast and then Justus went upstairs to bed.
Chapter Eleven
When Justus phoned the group about wanting to stop by CC’s to see if he could show the pic of Dean to Patrick, he was surprised when all of them, even Dale, suggested meeting there instead of Stumptown. Ever since Justus had taken him home the Friday before, Dale seemed more amiable. Probably due to his guilt over being stupid-drunk that night, Justus figured. Whatever the reason, he was glad when he walked into the club and spotted the gang all waiting at a table in the corner away from the dance floor.
“What took you so long?” Scotty asked when Justus sat down beside Dale.
“I had trouble finding parking. The church people have the parking strip in front of their church blocked off for some reason.”
“I noticed that,” Scotty said. “Wonder if it has to do with Lent.”
“Isn’t that a Catholic thing?” Dale asked.
“Presbyterians do it too, sort of,” Marcus answered.
“Whatever it is, it’s annoying trying to find a parking spot.”
“So, what can I get you?” a server in a suede leather vest and cowboy hat asked. His voice was deep and manly. It made Justus feel tingly all over.
“I’ll have a. . .” Justus thought quickly of another drink that sounded more butch than a rum and Coke. “Jack Daniel’s. Make it a double.”
The server smiled and walked away. Justus let his eyes linger a bit before turning back to the shocked faces of his friends.
“Since when do you drink whiskey?” Marcus asked.
“And a double shot at that!” Dale chimed in.
“Since the server looks like that,” Justus said and looked across the club. The server stood leaning across the bar which made his jeans tighter and showed off his firm ass.
“Down, boy,” Scotty said.
“Sure!” Justus laughed and turned back to his friends.
“Oh, before I forget, I bought us all tickets to Stumptown’s Easter Bash on the nineteenth,” Dale spoke up.
“How much?”
“Nothing,” Dale said and stopped Marcus from pulling out his wallet. “My treat.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Justus told him.
“I know. I want to.”
“What’s gotten into you?” Scotty asked.
“Nothing. I simply thought it was time to move on. That’s all.”
“Uh-oh, wha
t happened?” Justus said. He could tell something was up with Dale.
“Nothing,” Dale answered with a nervous sounding laugh.
The other three stared at him as though saying they did not believe him.
“Fine,” Dale relented. “Jack’s parents came and cleared out Jack’s apartment last weekend.”
“What?” they all let out a collective gasp.
“It was bound to happen. It’s been three months.” Dale’s voice cracked and belied his brave front.
“Oh, Dale, I’m so sorry,” Justus said and put his arm around Dale’s shoulders.
Dale shrugged it off. “Hey, he was only a friend. We weren’t lovers or—” He looked down at his lap.
Justus looked across the table at Scotty and Marcus.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Marcus said firmly. “So, they cleaned out his apartment. Big deal. They may have given up on finding him, but we haven’t.”
“That’s right,” Scotty agreed. “We are going to find him.”
Dale looked up, this time with tears in his eyes. “Thanks guys, but we all know he’s probably gone for good.”
“Who’s gone?” the server’s deep voice resonated.
Justus looked beside him at the handsome specimen of cowboy-hood. He felt his legs go weak and was grateful to be sitting.
“A friend,” he answered.
“There seems to be a lot of that lately,” the server commented and nodded. “I know of a couple others. One guy from here. I sure wish the police would do something.”
“Don’t we all,” Scotty agreed.
“Who was your friend?”
“Jack,” Dale spoke up, his composure restored. “He disappeared from Stumptown’s Valentine’s Day party.”
“Oh my. And no one has done anything?”
“I went to the police,” Justus volunteered. “But they dropped it. We’re not, though.”
“Well, good. Someone needs to do something.”
“How much do I owe you?” Justus asked and looked at the drink on the server’s tray.
The man shuddered slightly as if coming back to the present and his job. “Oh, nothing,” he answered and set the drink on the table in front of Justus. “We can work something out later. Name’s Xavier.”
“Xavier,” Justus repeated.
“Yeah, my parents and their sense of humor,” Xavier said and shook his head. “Xavier Yancy Zervis, X Y Z.”
“I rather like it,” Justus said.
Xavier smiled. “If you need anything more, let me know.”
“I’ll do that.”
After Xavier left, Justus looked back at the group.
“Good God, can you be any more obvious? You need a napkin to wipe your chin?” Marcus laughed.
“What?” Justice asked, feigning innocence.
“What? You all but did him right here at the table.”
Justus felt his face turn red, not from embarrassment as much as from Marcus seeming to read his mind.
“Forget about him,” Justus said. “Tonight, we need to be watching for Patrick.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?” Scotty asked. “We’ve never met him and don’t know what he looks like.”
“Oh, yeah, well. . .” Justus stammered. Scotty was right. He was the only one who had seen Patrick. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
As the night wore on, Marcus took his drink and began making the rounds, on the prowl for some fresh meat for the night. Even Dale was on the hunt but from time to time checked back with Justus and Scotty to see if Patrick had arrived.
“How did we ever become friends?” Scotty lamented.
“What? You and me?” Justus asked.
“No, them,” he laughed.
Justus looked over his shoulder toward the last place he saw Dale. “Oh!” he gasped.
“What? He’s here?” Scotty asked and began to look the crowd over.
“No, but someone equally as good,” Justus answered. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Keeping an eye on Curtis, Justus made his way across the club. Curtis stood at the end of the bar talking with one of the bartenders. Justus tried not to eavesdrop while he waited for them to finish. Finally, Curtis glanced over his shoulder and noticed him.
“Hey, aren’t you that guy from a couple weeks ago? The one with the missing friend?” he said, turning around and smiling.
“Yes,” Justus said with a nod. “I was wondering if you know where I could find Patrick.”
“He’s at home. He’s too frightened to come clubbing anymore. He’s afraid that guy will come back for him.”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to him about. You see, my friends and I have started our own investigation since it doesn’t appear the police are doing anything.”
“Really?” Curtis said with a smirk and leaned a little closer. “What have you got?”
Justus could tell he was being mocked, and that Curtis thought it was a joke. Still, he had to know if Dean was the guy.
“I have a picture I wanted to show Patrick.”
“I bet,” Curtis said in a condescending tone.
“No,” Justus almost shouted the word. “It’s of a guy who’s been stalking me and I wanted to see if it was the guy Patrick saw the night his friend disappeared.”
“Well, show me,” Curtis said.
Justus hesitated a moment. “Maybe I could text it to him?”
“That’s not going to happen, but you can text it to me. I’ll show him and then let you know what he says.”
Justus hesitated while he thought. He was not sure if he really trusted Curtis to do what he said. After all, he did not know him and from the way he acted the other night. . .
“Fine,” Justus said. He opened his photo app and attached Dean’s photo to a text. “What’s your number?”
“Here,” Curtis said and took Justus’ cell phone. He keyed in his cell number and sent the text. Justus heard Curtis’ phone chime. Curtis then deleted the text from Justus’ phone so Justus would not have a record of his number. He handed the cell back to Justus and took out his phone. He looked at the photo text. “Nice looking daddy, if you’re into that.” He gave Justus a once over look. “You can go now.”
Justus did not move. He was in shock over how rude Curtis was. He wanted to tell him what he could do to himself but figured he probably already did and did not need any encouragement. He turned around and headed back to his table.
“So, how did it go?” Scotty asked.
“He’s going to show Patrick the pic and let me know.”
“That’s good isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Justus answered.
“Then why aren’t you happy?”
“Curtis is a dried up, bitchy queen is why. The way he talked down to me and how he acted. I could tell he thinks I’m only a stupid little twink.”
“Forget about him,” Scotty said and stood up. “Your server friend stopped by and said his shift ended. He wants you to wait for him outside. I’ve got to get going myself.”
“What about the others?” Justus asked and looked around the dwindling crowd.
“Marcus took off with some guy.”
“Dark hair?”
“No, blonde.” Scotty sighed while they headed for the door. “And Dale headed home with that cowboy he was riding in the corner. Call me tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Justus said. He watched Scotty walk away, heading south on 12th Avenue toward his condo. A bell in one of the many church towers struck. Justus jumped and then looked at his watch.
The early morning air was a bit cold. Justus had left his jacket in his car and now wished he had brought it. He began to pace up and down the sidewalk a few steps while he waited for Xavier.
He did not have to wait too long. The door to CC’s opened and Xavier walked out wearing a leather jacket and baseball cap. He smiled when he saw Justus and immediately headed over to him.
“So, where’s your cowboy outfit?” Justus asked.
Xavier laughed. “My uniform stays here. These are my real clothes.” He opened the front of his jacket to reveal a black T-shirt. His jeans were tight in all the right places.
“Well, now what?” Justus asked.
“You wanna go to my place?”
“Sure. Where is it?”
“It’s not far. I have a house in Cedar Mills.”
“Okay, should I follow you?”
“No, we can take my car and then I can bring you back downtown.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
The sun was already beginning to rise by the time Justus made it home. He opened the front door and was struck by the aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh hot coffee. His stomach grumbled and came to life. He closed the door and headed for the kitchen.
“Good morning,” he greeted and froze. “Oh!”
Douglas turned around, spatula in hand. He smiled at Justus. “Morning,” he said.
“Where’re your clothes?”
“What? You don’t like my boxers and Harry’s apron?”
“No, no,” Justus answered. “I—I—”
“Coffee?” Douglas offered and held up the pot.
“Sure,” Justus answered and forced himself to look away from his crush. He grabbed his mug from the cupboard and let Douglas fill it.
“Cream?” Douglas asked.
Justus looked at the bulge in the front of Douglas’ apron and instantly his face felt hot. He knew it was turning red.
Douglas laughed and handed him the bottle of sweet cream. He turned back to the stove and put another four strips of bacon in the pan.
“So, where’s Harry?” Justus asked, finding his voice.
“He’s still asleep I think.”
“Oh. Did you spend the night?”
“In Thomas’ room,” Douglas answered and turned back around. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip.
“Thomas’ room,” Justus repeated. “When are we going to stop calling it that?”
Douglas did not answer. “Hey, Harry told me about what you’re doing,” he changed the subject.
“Yeah?” Justus did not know why he was so surprised. He knew Harrison told Douglas practically everything.
“I wish you guys wouldn’t. I know it’s hard letting the police handle it, but you should. It’s too dangerous.”