by A. S. Tucker
Where in the heck am I?
It doesn’t take long for the scenery to change though. As we drive, the storefronts go from shiny and glossy to boarded up and barren. Homeless people dot the streets with shopping carts crammed with what looks to be piles of junk parked next to them. A woman stands on a corner, her skirt so short that, if she moves, the entire neighborhood will get a free show. I turn in my seat to watch her as we pass by. A car stops, and a man leans out the window as she steps up.
Did I just witness a real-life prostitute?
I turn back around, a small smile spreading across my face. I should be terrified. And, deep down, I am. But something about seeing that exchange made me feel better. Like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Not because I enjoy watching a hooker being picked up by a john. In fact, the thought of that woman having to sell herself for money just so that she can make ends meet makes me sad.
But things like that don’t happen in Lehi, Utah. I mean, I’m sure they do somewhere. But not out there in the open like that with people just casually strolling past, as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening to their left. If that sort of thing were to happen in Lehi, it’d be on the six o’clock news, and everyone and their brother would be up in arms about cleaning up the city.
Everyone here seems to be okay with letting others live their own lives, instead of butting in with their unwarranted opinions and observations every ten seconds. That’s something I’ve never been part of before—people just letting people be. It feels nice, knowing I’m finally somewhere I can be myself.
Until I remember that’s the exact opposite reason of why I’m here. I’m not here to be myself and let others do their thing. The whole point of my being here is to change these people. Turn them into something they’re not.
My smile falls. My vision locking on the front windshield, I stare blankly out of it for the rest of the ride.
My feet ache as I turn the corner behind my companion, Elder Fisher. The sight of our apartment building greets me, and I all but sigh with relief.
After the mission president and his wife dropped me off at my new home earlier, Elder Fisher and I started out tracting right away. I hadn’t even had a chance to settle in. I’d been told we’d get right to work as soon as we were out in the field, but I had no idea they meant that quite so literally. I’d thought I’d have at least the day to adjust. Unpack. You know, the things you do when you move somewhere new. But, nope, I’d put my suitcase on the bed I’d be sleeping in for the next six weeks, Elder Fisher had said a prayer, and we’d set out. He’d said we were already behind on the day, so there was no time to waste.
It’s safe to say, my new companion and I are nothing alike.
Aside from asking me where I was from and a few brief questions about my family and my faith, Elder Fisher hasn’t asked me a single personal thing about myself. There hasn’t been any small talk between us. As we walk from house to house, door after door being slammed in our faces, Elder Fisher only speaks of potential investigators and prior experiences he’s had in the two weeks he’s been in this area.
“The man who lives in that house seemed fairly interested when Elder Sullivan and I stopped him the other day. He was in a hurry to get to work. But we left some brochures with him and promised we’d stop back by this week sometime. We’ll start there in the morning. He works evenings,” he says, pointing to a small house with peeling white paint that sits a block down from our apartment.
I nod, trying to act interested in what he’s saying. But, at this point, I just want to go to sleep. My bed isn’t much but it’s soft and squishy and sounds like absolute heaven right about now.
I’m about to start sprinting for the door to our apartment complex when it swings open, and a man walks out. He’s wearing a black leather jacket, his head covered by a black beanie even though it’s at least eighty degrees outside in the June heat. And, although the sun is setting, he slides a pair of black sunglasses onto his face the moment he steps outside, the reflective lenses flashing in the last bit of light in the evening sky.
He walks over to a small motorcycle that’s seen better days, swinging his leg over the side so that he straddles it between his legs. As he plants himself on the seat, he finally lifts his head, a bright white smile stretching across his face when he sees us.
“Evening, boys. How are you doing tonight?”
Elder Fisher smiles back at him. “Good, Quinn. How are you this evening?”
“Could be worse,” Quinn says with a shrug. “Though I’m pretty sure there’s a fucking rat in my apartment. I saw it that first day I moved in, and I’ve seen it a couple of times since. But it’s a tricky bastard. Each time I think I see it, the asshole up and disappears on me before I can get a good look at it. Never mind actually trapping or killing the damn thing.”
Elder Fisher’s spine stiffens at Quinn’s use of profane language. And I suddenly feel as if I’m watching a tennis match, my head swinging back and forth between my companion and the man on the motorcycle, not wanting to miss a single second of the interaction between them.
Elder Fisher chooses to let the language slide instead of commenting. His smile returns as he answers Quinn, “That’s no good. I sure hope we don’t have rats in the building. I’ll put in a word with the super if I see him. Let him know to keep an eye out.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I told him when I saw him, but if it’s coming from a couple of people, maybe he’ll actually get off his ass and do something about it.” Quinn smiles, placing his hands on the handlebars of the motorcycle, as if he’s about to leave. “Well, I hope you guys enjoy your—”
He looks over at me, seemingly for the first time. Something flashes in his eyes as he looks me up and down, and I feel my cheeks flush as his eyes rake over me.
“Who’s this?” he asks Fisher, turning his attention to my companion. It isn’t gone long though. Before I even have a chance to take a breath, his gaze locks back on mine, his hand coming up to lift his sunglasses and revealing his emerald green eyes. They’re mesmerizing, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t look away.
“Where’s what’s his face?” he continues. “The redhead.”
“Elder Sullivan was transferred to another area,” Elder Fisher answers. “We’re generally only in the same mission for about six weeks. He’d been here for about four weeks before I got here. So, it’s me and Elder Barker here for the next month or so.”
“Barker, huh?” Quinn says as he gives me another once-over. “What’s your first name, Barker?”
I open my mouth to answer, but no words come out. It feels like I’ve swallowed the entire Sahara Desert, my tongue so thick that I’m not sure how it even fits in my mouth.
But, before I can embarrass myself with my inability to speak, Elder Fisher interjects, “He’s Elder Barker.”
Quinn shoots him a quizzical look, his eyebrow arched perfectly over his left eye. “Wasn’t asking you, was I? And I got that much. I was asking for his first name.”
“We don’t use our first names while on our missions,” Elder Fisher tells him. “We’re all ambassadors of the Lord. You can address either of us as Elder. We’ll both answer.”
Quinn’s attention turns back to me, his brow now furrowed in confusion. “Sounds like a load of bullshit, if you ask me.”
Fisher huffs, clearly affronted at the slight at his beliefs. “Elder Barker and I would be more than happy to explain the workings of our church and introduce you to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I think you’d like what we have to say. Isn’t that right, Elder Barker?”
I’m still not able to speak, my eyes glued to the man in front of me. I have no idea what’s wrong with me. I’ve never had this reaction to anybody before. I’ve never felt so…intimidated. So…nervous. So…captivated?
As if he can sense my thoughts, the corner of Quinn’s mouth quirks up in a half-smile. I feel the smirk down to my toes, my breath catching in my throat as he grins at me.
“May
be some other time, Fisher. I’ve got to work tonight.”
He slides the beanie off his head before strapping on a small black helmet. Cranking over the engine, he revs it twice before locking eyes with me again.
“I’ll see you around, Barkey!” he shouts over the drone of the motor, giving me a sly wink I’m sure Fisher doesn’t see.
I nod like an idiot as he lifts a hand in a wave before backing out of the narrow space he parked in and driving away like a pro.
My heart rate slows as I stare after him, my feet finally planting themselves back on the ground. I’m struck by my desire to know more about Quinn. I want to know everything. What does he do? What does he like to eat? What’s his favorite color? Why do I feel like I can’t breathe when he looks at me?
Elder Fisher’s voice silences my thoughts.
“Elder Sullivan and I met him last week. He just moved in upstairs. He’d be a great candidate if we could convince him to listen to us. He’s really mixed up. The other night, Elder Sullivan and I saw him come home with another man. And the walls in this place are thin. The noises we heard coming from up there were disgusting, to say the least. We had to put earplugs in to block out the sounds. He needs the gospel in his life more than anyone else I’ve met so far. We’ll have to work extra hard on him.”
Finally breaking my gaze from the street Quinn disappeared down, I turn back to Elder Fisher.
He smiles at me, slapping me on the shoulder. “Great first day, Elder. Now, let’s go upstairs and grab a quick bite before we hit the hay. We’ve got another full day ahead of us tomorrow. Lots more tracting to do. Lots more people to bring the Lord’s word to.”
I nod as he opens the door and ushers me inside.
There’s only one person I want to see tomorrow.
The problem is, he’s the last person on earth I should want to be near. Not unless we’re both dressed in white, and I’m dunking him underwater.
But that night, as I drift off to sleep, I’m unable to keep my thoughts of Quinn at bay. The crooked smile he gave me. The wink he threw my way just before he left. And, most importantly, how he made me feel. For the first time in my life, I felt…wanted. And, as insane as it sounds, considering I didn’t say a word to him and he only said half a dozen or so to me, I feel like I can trust him. Like I can show him exactly who I am. And like he’ll not only accept me for who I am but embrace it.
And, for the first time in my life, I want to do exactly that. I want Quinn to see me. And I want to see him.
I want to see all of him.
CHAPTER SIX
* * *
Quinn
“What can I get you, sweetheart?”
The blonde woman across from me all but melts into the bar top as she leans over, giving me a front row seat to her cleavage. Her hooded blue eyes peer up at me from beneath her thick lashes, her soft smile inviting and warm. She’s pure sex, and every single man in this bar would kill to be able to take her home.
Except one.
Unfortunately for her, she’s homed in on the one man who’d rather go home with the guy to her left. The dark-haired man with the chocolate eyes—eyes that, at this moment, are trying to discreetly look down the front of the woman’s shirt. I’ll give him props. Most dudes around here wouldn’t have the grace and dignity to try to hide looking at what she’s so blatantly put on display. Maybe I’ll throw the guy a bone and try to get her to focus her attention on him. He seems decent. And, from the looks of this girl, she could use a nice guy who’d respect her.
The girl starts twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she gazes at me, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Do straight dudes really go for this? The girl is gorgeous as hell. She doesn’t need to try so hard. Putting both hands on the bar, I slide them apart until I’m leaning over, eye-level with the woman. She leans further into me, her face only inches from mine as she smiles.
“What can I get you to drink?” I repeat.
“Sex on the Beach.” It sounds more like a proposition than a drink request.
I wink before straightening. “Coming right up.”
I turn and make her drink, sliding it across the bar with a flourish when it’s complete. She goes to pull some money out of her purse, but I stop her with a wave.
“Already taken care of. Courtesy of that man right there,” I tell her, nodding to the man who’s now vacated the seat next to her but still lingers nearby.
She looks up at me, confusion clear on her face.
I give her a mischievous smile. “He pulled me aside earlier, asked me to help him out. He told me you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, but he was too shy to talk to you. I told him I’d work my magic and send you his way,” I say, giving her a playful wink.
She swivels in her seat, giving the man a quick glance, before turning back to me with a pout. “He’s cute. But I sort of have my sights set on someone else.”
She slowly licks her lips, pulling her bottom one in between her teeth, as she looks up at me through her lashes again. I give her the smile—the one that has talked me out of a million situations I’d rather not have been in. And the one that has gotten me invited into the bedroom of every man I’ve ever bestowed it on. The same smile I gave Fisher’s new friend earlier tonight. The guy with the onyx eyes and lips that dreams are made of.
He’s definitely someone I’d like to get to know. Maybe living upstairs from Mormon missionaries won’t be as bad as I thought. At least not if I get to look at that every day.
I blink back the vision of Elder Barker standing on the sidewalk outside my building, turning my attention back to the woman before me. “I’m flattered, sweetheart. And, normally, I’d be all over the idea of spending a little time with someone like you. But I’m taken,” I lie, giving her a sympathetic look.
She deflates, her eyes lowering to the bar in front of her as her lips purse together in a sad line.
“But take it from me; that guy over there, he’d love to get to know you. He’s good people. Why don’t you go over and give him a chance? I think you’ll be happy with what you find.”
The girl turns again, giving the guy another look, before turning back to me with a shrug. “I guess. He seems nice. He’s wearing a tie.”
I laugh. “All the best people wear ties. And you know what else is fun about ties? They’re super gentle on the wrists.” I wink at her again.
Her interest suddenly grows tenfold as she slides off her stool and walks over to the man. After a brief interaction, I see the man look up at me, his brows pulled together in confusion. I lift a beer bottle to him, bringing the forefinger on my other hand to my lips, letting him know it’s our little secret.
He grins at me, and I spend the next few hours watching the two of them dance together. Just before midnight, the guy catches my eye as he ushers her toward the door, draping the suit jacket he was wearing earlier over her shoulders.
Thanks, he mouths.
I nod in response. One of my favorite parts of the job is matchmaking. Too bad jobs like on Hitch don’t really exist. I’d rock that shit.
We have two hours before the bar closes, and they’re the two busiest hours of the night. Everyone is looking to hook up, searching for that special someone to warm their bed…at least for the night. Drinks are ordered left and right, and the time flies by.
I don’t even notice when Rick slides in behind the bar, picking up some of the slack. It’s not until he leans into me, nudging me with an elbow as he jerks his chin in the opposite direction that I even realize he’s there.
“Look at that. Why do they think we want to see that?” he says, disgust dripping from his every word.
I look in the direction he’s staring, seeing two men huddled close together at a table. From their body language, you can tell they’re here together. Like together, together.
When one of the men reaches up and runs his fingers through the other man’s hair, Rick groans. “Oh, c’mon. We don’t need that shit in here
.”
I’ve seen the men in here before, but it’s obvious Rick hasn’t. He generally tends to stay locked away in his office, only coming out to circulate the room a few times each night to ensure things are flowing smoothly. And to shoot the shit with me. For some reason, the man has it in his head that we’re besties.
If he only knew, I think with a silent laugh.
“They aren’t hurting anyone, Rick. Let them be,” I say with a shrug, turning to get back to work.
But Rick isn’t giving up so easily. “The hell they aren’t. They’re hurting my stomach. I might throw up if I have to watch them much longer.”
With my back still to him, I can’t resist the rolling my eyes do at his remark. Fucking homophobic prick.
I move along with my nightly closing prep, wiping down the counter behind the bar, when I hear Rick take in a sharp breath. I turn just in time to see the men lean into each other, planting a soft kiss on one another’s lips.
“Oh, fuck no.” Rick seethes.
Before I can grab on to him, he’s over the bar and stomping over to the men at the table.
“All right, boys,” he booms, catching the attention of the few others in the vicinity who aren’t too plastered to realize there’s a scene breaking out behind them. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
The men exchange a confused look before turning to look at Rick.
“Excuse me?” the one closest to Rick says. “Did we do something wrong?”
“Damn right you did. It’s one thing for your kind to come in here. But, when you start with that shit, you’ve got to go.”
The man stands, revealing his large stature and muscled chest. He towers over Rick, having at least six or seven inches on my small boss. But Rick doesn’t back down.
“What are you going to do? Hit me? You think I’m scared of a faggot?”