Play Along

by Mathilde Watson

  "Oh, no. You've had enough. Look at this place!" Ricardo's arm swung out in an arch, sweeping over the disaster that covered the entire main room of the bar. "Come on, let's get this mess cleaned up." Ricardo straightened and slapped Mark on the back. The room tilted before Mark's eyes as pushed away from the bar and turned to follow Ricardo. After only a few steps the room began to spin in earnest and Mark lost his balance. Doubling over, Mark vomited all over his feet and the floor in front of him.

  Seconds later Ricardo was there, holding him up and rubbing his back. Mark's throat burned and tears were streaming down his face. He had never been so wasted before in his life. Once his stomach had emptied and the heaving stopped Ricardo led him over to a sofa along the far wall of the bar. He helped him lay down and shoved a coat under his head for a pillow.

  "Tell you what. You lie down here and sleep it off. I'll get you some water and then I'll clean this place up, okay?" Ricardo was sitting on the edge of the sofa next to him, petting his head. Mark didn't have the energy to answer him, he couldn't even nod his head. Instead he lay there, enjoying Ricardo's soft voice and gentle caress until he fell asleep.

  ****

  Sunday, August 9, 1987.

  Mark closed the front doors behind the last customer and turned the lock, finally closing the bar down for the night. Or for the day. Whatever. It was nearly four in the morning and Mark's feet hurt, his head hurt, hell, his whole body hurt.

  "Damn, that was insane! I don't know about you, but I'm beat." Mark slid the deadbolt into place and switched off the outside lights, making it official. The party was over, the bar was closed. Leaning heavily against the door he turned to face Ricardo, the last of his employees still at work. Most of the clean-up had been done around the few straggling customers and all that remained to be done was minor.

  Ricardo grinned and scooped up the bottles and glasses the final customers had left at the bar. "Yeah, but it was worth it. I told you, hombre, people love a party." He winked as he hurried off into the back to dispose of the bottles and wash the final glasses.

  Mark groaned and pushed off the wall, following Ricardo into the back. "Half those people didn't even know what they were celebrating."

  "Doesn't matter. They came, they had a good time, and they spent a ton of cash!" Ricardo's voice floated out of the back room, muffled by the sound of running water. Mark pushed through the sliding door and joined Ricardo by the sink.

  "That they did. Maybe we ought to make this an annual thing?" Mark leaned his hip against the counter, watching Ricardo work. His strong hands made quick work of the final four glasses and before long the tumblers were on the drying rack and Ricardo was bending over the sink to pull the plug that would allow the soapy water to drain out into the lot behind the bar.

  Biting back a moan, Mark turned away and leaned back against the counter, bracing his hands on the edge. He closed his eyes to keep from staring at the enticing sight Ricardo's ass made under those tight jeans. Damn. They'd been friends since they were nine years old. How the hell had he never noticed how attractive Ricardo was before now? The whole fiasco with Nate two years ago seemed so trivial now. His feelings for that prick were nothing next to how he'd come to feel about Ricardo over the past year. Trying to keep his hands to himself for the past six months had been absolute torture.

  "Hell, yes. Keep it going, keep it fresh, and before you know it, the MN bar will be a legend. A legend, amigo!" Ricardo's voice and his rich laughter vibrated though Mark's frame, setting his nerves on fire. Mark shook his head, trying to clear away the lustful thoughts. Embarrassed by the tightening in his groin he pushed away from the counter and headed for the back exit.

  "Aw, now. Let's not get carried away." Reaching the back door, he stopped and turned to make sure Ricardo was following him. To his surprise, Ricardo was right there, practically pinning him into the corner. He could smell Ricardo's rich, musky scent and he could feel the heat from his body. Before he could stop himself he licked his lips, unable to pull his gaze away from Ricardo's smile. He couldn't help wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips, to run his tongue over the full moustache. Was it soft or prickly? Would it tickle? God, he wanted to find out.

  "Why not? It's good to dream big. You wanted this place to be something, didn't you? Something special. You said you were going to make this place the biggest, loudest, most successful bar on the west coast, remember?" Ricardo braced his hands on the wall on either side of Mark's head, and Mark groaned, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the door behind him. The temptation was too great, if he didn't close his eyes he would never be able to control himself. He would make a fool of himself again, like he had after Nate's wedding.

  They had gone out to a loud leather bar right after the ceremony and Mark had gotten so drunk he could barely stand. He'd thrown himself at Ricardo, kissing him and begging to get fucked. Ricardo's rebuff from that night still stung. He couldn't remember much else from that night, but he sure as hell didn't want a repeat of it.

  "I've said and done a lot of stupid shit, man. I don't even want remember half of it." Ricardo chuckled softly and ran his thumb over Mark's bottom lip. Surprised, Mark opened his eyes and stared down into Ricardo's.

  "Oh, come on now. It wasn't all bad, was it?" Mark swallowed hard and shrugged, not sure what they were even talking about anymore.

  "I've said a lot of shit, too, yeah? Do you remember what I said the night Nate got hitched? After you kissed me?" Mark frowned and shook his head, gently pushing against Ricardo's chest. He couldn't handle being this close.

  "I was drunk, man. Being stupid. I told you I was sorry." Ricardo leaned into Mark's hands, not letting himself be pushed away. Not letting Mark out of his arms.

  "Yeah, I know what you said. But I'm talking about me right now. Do you remember what I said?" One of Ricardo's hands slid off the wall and onto Mark's shoulder, squeezing gently. Mark drew his eyebrows together and shook his head, never taking his eyes away from Ricardo's face.

  "I told you that if you ever kiss me like that again, you damn well better mean it." Ricardo's hand slid up from Mark's shoulder and wrapped around the back of his neck. "Now, I could be wrong, and if I am, you just say so, but…" Ricardo shrugged and took his other hand off the wall, placing it instead on Mark's chest and rubbing small circles over his heart before trailing it down his stomach and cupping the bulge in the front of Mark's jeans. "I think maybe you mean it now, don't you?" Ricardo grinned and squeezed gently before leaning in closer, tilting his head back and staring up into Mark's eyes.

  Mark choked out a sob and grabbed his friend, bending down and kissing him hard. Ricardo's mouth opened for him and Mark shoved inside, learning his taste and carefully mapping the inside of his hot mouth. Their teeth clinked together and their tongues dueled. Ricardo's moustache tickled Mark's nose and he chuckled softly, enjoying the rough texture. Mark couldn't believe his luck. What he needed had been in front of him all along. He didn't understand how he'd missed it for so long, but now that he had it, he wasn't ever letting go.

  ****

  Sunday, Aug 12, 2009.

  Mark dropped the last glass into the last slot inside the large industrial dish washer and slid the rack into place, slamming the door shut and pushing the buttons that would bring the thing roaring to life. "There. Done! At last. What time is it, anyway?"

  Ricardo tied and dropped the last of the trash bags by the back door before coming up behind him. Pressing against Mark's back and wrapping his arms around his torso, Ricardo held his wrist in front of Mark's face, showing him his new watch. The words 'Play Time' were written across the face in bold red letters. The hands on the clock declared it to be almost five in the morning. Damn, it was late!

  Ricardo's erection pressed against the back of Mark's thigh and Mark grinned, threading his fingers though Ricardo's and squeezing. "Work's done, babe. It's play time now."

  Mark laughed and nodded his agreement. "Damn, Ricky. Let's go home, huh? W
here we can play until we both pass out." Ricardo backed off and pulled Mark away from the counter, turning him toward the door. They grabbed the trash bags and headed out the back door, locking up behind them.

  "Lead the way, baby. I'm right behind you." Mark took the bags from Ricardo and bent down to kiss him. Ricardo pulled out of the kiss and bent over his motorcycle, unhooking his helmet from the handlebars. Unable to resist, Mark smacked his ass before hurrying off to the dumpster with trash bags.

  "I'd follow that ass anywhere. See you at home, babe." He called out as Ricardo climbed onto the bike and revved the engine. He waited until Mark climbed into his car before pulling out of the parking lot with Mark following close behind him, his headlights adding visibility to Ricardo's ride.

  They pulled up to the last stop light about a mile from home before they met any other traffic. A large SUV pulled up close behind Mark, too close, tapping his bumper while they waited for the light. Mark ignored it and followed Ricardo through the intersection.

  The SUV stayed on his tail, driving dangerously close and flashing his lights like an idiot. Mark slowed down, hoping the jerk would take the hint and back off. Instead, the guy in the SUV leaned on his horn and drove even closer. Mark flashed his lights, signaling for Ricardo to pull over, but he was too late.

  The driver of the SUV jerked over into the other lane, gunning his engine and zipping past Mark's car like a maniac. Mark watched in horror as the monstrous vehicle whipped back into the lane in front of him, sideswiping Ricardo's bike and launching the motorcycle and his lover into the guardrail along the side of the road.

  "No! Shit. God, no!" Mark didn't know if the words actually made it past his lips or not. It didn't matter. He needed to get to Ricardo, fast.

  Mark slammed on the brakes, screeching to a halt and barely managing to put his car into park before releasing his seatbelt and tumbling out of the car. He raced across the pavement and into the ditch, clambering over the mangled guardrail to reach his lover's prone body. His legs were twisted at an impossible angle and his left arm was pinned under the front wheel of his bike. Mark knelt on the ground next to him, carefully removing the helmet and cradling Ricardo's head in his lap.

  "Ricky! Ricky, baby, can you hear me? Come on, Ricky. Stay with me! Come on, open your eyes. Look at me, damn it!" Ricardo seemed to smile up at him, sucking air in through clenched teeth while his entire body trembled violently in Mark's arms. He squeezed Mark's hand, but he didn't say a word. "Damn it, Ricky! Talk to me!" Mark whispered against his cheek.

  A moment later Ricardo's eyes closed and his hand released Mark's fingers. The stuttered breaths and the tremors stopped and Ricardo's body went limp. All Mark could do was sit there, holding onto Ricardo until the paramedics arrived and pulled him away.

  Their arrival startled Mark. He had no idea how long they'd been by the side of the road or who had called 911. All he'd been aware of was the sound of his own heart pounding behind his ears. He watched helplessly while the paramedic loaded Ricardo onto a gurney, covering him head to toe with a sheet. He was vaguely aware of the paramedics checking him over, but his full attention was on the gurney that held his lover. His dead lover.

  Numb with disbelief, Mark closed his eyes and his heart, hoping to shut out the pain he knew would never go away.

  Chapter Two

  Tuesday, July 13, 2010

  Mark Nelson pulled into the packed parking lot surrounding the bar he'd owned and operated for twenty-five years, and cringed. Cars overflowed into the adjacent lots of the neighboring businesses and lined the streets on both sides of his building. He circled around to the back, parking in the last available space in the employee lot and cutting the engine. His space. The one space that always stayed empty. In front of the parking space stood a large hand-painted sign, something he and Ricardo had come up with after their first year when business had just started to boom.

  If you want to drink here

  Don't park here.

  (Unless you work here.)

  In which case,

  No drinking on the job!

  Over the years it had become his own personal spot—none of the employees dared to park there. For a few minutes he just sat in his car, glaring alternately between the building and everyone who hurried past from the streets, heading for the main entrance. The back door opened briefly and Kim, one of his servers, emerged with a bag of trash hanging from each hand. Mark sighed and opened the car door, resigning himself to the fact that he had to go in there sometime. As he approached the building he checked his watch, instantly regretting it.

  The battered piece of jewelry was the one Ricardo had been wearing the night of the accident, the night he'd died. Mark had to smile at the words 'Play Time' written in bold script across the face of the watch. He could almost hear Ricardo's voice, playfully chastising him, reminding him that a packed lot meant a packed bar, which was good business and just good all around! Especially at nine-thirty on a Tuesday night, early yet, and not even a weekend.

  Mark blinked back tears and waved at his employee, who was now leaning against the wall, chatting in Korean on his cell phone. The kid waved back and Mark pulled open the door labeled 'authorized personnel only' and let himself in, glancing at the logo on the door as he passed.

  Over the years the odd, zigzagging symbol had earned the establishment the nickname 'Ziggy's.' He didn't care for it much, but it really didn't matter to him what people called the place. Originally, the connected letters 'MN' had stood for Mark and Nathan, his first lover-turned-business-partner, but now it served only as a reminder not to become involved with closeted men, romantically or professionally. Since the initials were the same as those of his own name, he'd never bothered to come up with anything else.

  Nate had bailed before the place even opened for business. He'd thrown their enterprise away to marry the daughter of a wealthy businessman who owned an up and coming hotel chain. The arrangement provided Nate with everything; a home, a business, the chance to build a powerful reputation, and a rich future. Mark's love and his simple dreams hadn't been enough to compete with all of that.

  Mark pushed aside the melancholy thoughts and wove his way through the storage area, indifferently noting the disarray before emerging into the deafening crush of dancing men. Evidence of his success bumped into him from every side as he tried to bob and weave his way through the crowd unmolested.

  Almost immediately his head bartender, Louie, a handsome black man in his late thirties, caught his eye and grinned. He waved and gestured for Mark to come around behind the bar where he was working, pouring drinks and dancing to the music blaring from the speakers. Reluctantly, Mark complied. He had hoped to sneak off to his office unnoticed, but now? Well, snubbing Louie just wasn't an option. He was a good friend and a brilliant businessman, and Mark needed him too much to risk either relationship.

  "Hey there, boss man! You come out to play tonight, or are you checking up on me?" Louie winked and flashed his startling white smile, and Mark couldn't help but smile back.

  "God knows, this place would fall apart if someone didn't keep an eye on you. Don't know why I put up with you." Mark returned Louie's wink, easily transitioning into the familiar role of another bartender, taking orders and mixing drinks for thirsty patrons.

  Mark had hired Louie four years ago, and he'd quickly become an invaluable asset to the business, even more so since Ricardo's untimely death. When Mark had fallen apart, Louie had stepped up, taking care of almost every aspect of running the place. Mark promoted him, making him manager, and ever since the bar had practically run itself… Or rather, Louie had run it… or whatever. All Mark had to do anymore was sign on the dotted line where Louie indicated, and write out the checks so that the bills got paid.

  Eventually, though, he would have to step back up and take charge or else get out of the business entirely, because this setup wasn't fair to anyone. This place was his dream and the fruit of a hell of a lot of labor over a many, many years. The thou
ght of giving it up turned his stomach almost as badly as the noise and constant movement that surrounded him.

  Despite the familiar routine, Mark began to fidget after a few minutes, uncomfortable with being in front of so many people. He'd thrived on it once, but now it wore on his nerves until they were ready to snap. Especially with the added guilt settling in.

  When Ricardo died, Mark lost all interest in everything, especially the bar, and he'd considered closing the place down after neglect had nearly run it into the ground. He had promoted Louie as a last ditch effort not to fold, and amazingly Louie had managed to pump life back into the stagnant business. Mark owed Louie a huge debt of gratitude for every day he chose to stay on at the MN, because he simply couldn't handle it on his own anymore.

  Glancing around the bar, Mark swore he saw Ricardo's shadow out of the corner of his eye, constantly moving just out of his sight. The memories were everywhere, and even after all this time, they were still too painful for him to face head-on. Trying not to get carried away, he grabbed a rag from under the cash register and began to wipe up the spills on the bar.

  Louie eyed him for a few moments, but Mark refused to meet his gaze. He was wiping up imaginary spills by now, but he couldn't stop. He needed to at least maintain the illusion of being busy.

  Louie opened a couple bottles of beer and handed them over the bar before moving closer. His hand landed on top of Mark's, squeezing reassuringly and stilling his unnecessary motions. "You all right, boss?"

  Mark nodded and backed away from the bar, offering Louie a feeble smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind right now. I thought I'd stop by and see about the bills, maybe run some numbers. I've been thinking about putting a new floor on the stage, maybe even expanding it some. We haven't had any shows in a while, and there are some really good new local bands we could book. Need to do something to keep this place interesting."