Larry Boots, Exterminator

by John Inman

  My heart swelled up like a bullfrog inside my chest. It didn’t croak, but it hopped a couple of times. “Nothing would make me happier,” I said, and easing the cane from his hand, I tossed it in the back seat. “I won’t let you walk into a tree, I promise,” I said, leading him away from the car.

  He wagged a finger in my face. “Or the mouth of a hippo either.”

  I laughed. “Nope. No hippos either.”

  He followed along beside me with his fingers wrapped securely around my forearm. As we neared the front gates, the crowd thickened. Nighttime Zoo was a popular attraction. Through the rest of the year, the zoo closed at sunset. This was the only opportunity to see the place lit up after nightfall and to see the nocturnal animals stirring around for a change rather than lying about like slugs, which they did during the day.

  Ken matched me step for step, striding assuredly along as if he really did trust me to steer him safely through the crowds. I loved that. Occasionally, we might catch the attention of someone passing by, what with two guys holding on to each other the way we were. But most people gauged the truth quickly enough, and they thought nothing of it. Ken was so handsome, strolling along beside me, clinging to my arm, that I wouldn’t have been embarrassed in any case. I was proud to be next to him. I was proud to be relied upon by him.

  “Can I tell you how handsome you are?” I asked quietly as we weaved through the crowds.

  He shot a shy smile in my direction. “You’re very romantic. Did you know that?”

  His statement took me by surprise. “Uh, no. Actually I don’t think I knew that at all.”

  “Well, you are. And I, for one, really enjoy romantic men.”

  I blinked, then suddenly felt myself swelling up again. Another grin crept across my face. I stammered around, searching for something to say. Finally, I mumbled a feeble “Thank you,” and left it at that.

  He edged closer. His thumb stroked my forearm as we walked, and I caught a whiff of his clean hair as he leaned his head closer to me.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, almost as an afterthought. Then he gasped and pulled me to a stop.

  “What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He turned his green eyes to me, and they were as big as crabapples. “I can smell them,” he hissed, his mouth twisting into another of his hundred-watt smiles. “The animals. I can smell them!” And then he laughed out loud.

  “This way!” he commanded, and before I could say anything, he pulled me toward a pathway leading down a shaded hillside. There was a handrail, so he clutched it with one hand and continued to hold on to me with the other. The air was cool among the trees surrounding the path, and to our left a rippling brook sang and danced, chuckling down the hillside, pulled by gravity, gathering in a pool at the base of the hill.

  I couldn’t believe he had steered us so unerringly down the winding trail. “Are you sure you can’t see?”

  He ignored my question. “Big cats,” he gasped, his face alight with excitement. “Somewhere up ahead, I can smell the big cats.”

  I leaned in and whispered gaily in his ear, “Lead on, then, Dr. Livingston.” And with a merry laugh, he tugged me forward. Still holding on to the guy so he wouldn’t go running off a cliff, I happily followed.

  We stopped short at the chuffing growl of a lion up ahead. Ken’s fingers tightened around my wrist, practically cutting off the circulation. “Point me in the right direction,” he said, as if he had suddenly lost his bearings.

  “This way,” I said, and following the signs, not to mention the crowds, I guided him close to an observation area that looked down into a pit. There, twenty feet below, lounged a small pride of lions—a male, a female, and three half-grown cubs.

  Ken released my arm and used both hands to clutch the railing in front of us. I stood next to him with my hand at the small of his back. He was trembling beneath my touch.

  “Are they beautiful?” he asked softly.

  I stared down at the lions. One of the cubs was climbing over his father’s back. The father was acting regal and aloof, trying to ignore the little brat. “They are indeed,” I said. “They’re gorgeous.”

  Ken closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, as if gathering the scents inside his head, sorting through them, learning everything he could from each and every one of them. “Tell me about the lions,” he said. “Tell me what you see.”

  I stood close behind him and rested my chin on his shoulder. Peering around his ear, I studied the cats below. “There’s a mom and pop and three cubs. The mom’s asleep. Two of the cubs are wrestling over by the moat. The other cub is chewing on his father’s tail. The father is starting to look a little pissed.”

  Ken laughed. “What color are they?”

  “Tawny,” I said. “Like a field of ripe wheat. The father’s mane is darker. Almost black. He has a scar on the end of his nose. His eyes are gold.”

  “Gold.” Ken slowly muttered the word like he was imagining how it looked. “Larry, I can hear them breathing. Can you?”

  I closed my eyes, and sure enough, I could. They were lazily panting with quick little intakes of breath. It was almost a grumbling purr. In the darkness behind my eyelids, their wild smell was stronger too. I said as much.

  “Now you know how I see things,” Ken said, and his hand once again found my wrist. He wrapped his fingers gently around it, claiming a connection. He took a step backward until his back was pressed to my chest.

  “I do see,” I said, closing my eyes, lost in the closeness of him. Lost in the scent of Ken’s skin in my nostrils, the feel of his fingers on my arm. And lost, too, in the magic of the moment itself. The animals. The budding friendship. The trust Ken extended to me. His faith in allowing me to be his guide. To be his eyes. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I breathed. “All of it. This place. This planet. It’s just so damned beautiful.”

  He smiled at that. “It’s more beautiful with sight, but even in the darkness it has its moments.”

  “Of course,” I said, chagrined. “I didn’t mean to imply….”

  “Hush,” he said. “I know you didn’t.” He twisted his head as a new sound echoed through the zoo’s canyons, rolling over our heads. “Hear that? Take me toward it. Please.”

  I listened, then knew exactly what had caught his attention. Clutching his hand, I steered him away from the lions and on down the trail. We passed a lagoon filled with ducks and swans and geese. They were all chattering and honking and making a fuss, like their dinner was late and they were damn sure going to light into the waiter when he finally showed up.

  “Sounds like a cocktail party,” Ken chuckled.

  I giggled, because he was right. It did. But we didn’t stop. I tugged him on toward the new sound. I could hear it more clearly now, even with my eyes open. I knew what it was, and he probably did too, but still we couldn’t wait to get there.

  The sound came from the elephants, of course. They were trumpeting. And a moment later, I could see them. They were frolicking in their pen. One younger elephant was batting at a car tire that dangled from a tree limb at the end of a chain. A mother was standing belly-deep in a muddy pool of water, rocking in bliss. Periodically, she filled her trunk with water and hosed down the calf standing at the edge of the pool beside her. When she did, the calf gave itself a shake, as if the water tickled, then stomped playfully around, demanding she do it again.

  I explained it all to Ken. There was such happiness on his face, it almost took my breath away.

  He leaned in close. “Elephants are the best!”

  I laughed with him. “I know. I wish you could see the baby.”

  “I remember how they look, Larry. I can see him in my head.”

  I draped an arm around his back, and we stood quietly while the elephants played in the pen in front of us. Ken gasped when one of the matrons stomped past, shaking the ground beneath our feet. I closed my eyes and it really did seem like I could extend a hand and touch the beast.

  “Wow,
” I said.

  He snuggled more comfortably against me and echoed, “Wow.”

  We listened to the elephants a while longer—the spray and splash of water, the creaking of the rusty chain holding the swinging tire, the heavy footfalls, the chattering of the crowds around us.

  “It’s getting dark,” Ken said. “I can feel it.”

  He was right. Dusk was almost over. I looked up and saw a sprinkling of stars in the sky. At that moment the exterior lights throughout the zoo blinked on. As if caught doing something I shouldn’t, I stepped back from Ken’s side, but he just as quickly followed me and nestled close again.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing. The lights came on.”

  “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Let’s walk, then,” he said.

  “What about dinner?” I asked.

  “Buy me a tub of popcorn.”

  “Golly. Cheap date.”

  He snorted back a laugh. “Don’t get your hopes up. The night’s still young. I could max your cards out yet.”

  I laughed, not quite knowing what he meant, but not quite caring either. As long as I was with Ken, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t care what the evening would cost.

  “Uh-oh,” I said. “We have a problem.”

  We were passing the camel pen. They smelled terrible, but since Ken didn’t complain, neither did I. “What’s the problem?” he asked, looking instantly worried.

  “I can’t keep calling you Ken,” I said. “It suddenly dawned on me. You don’t look like a Ken.”

  He chewed on his cheek for a moment. “You’re not going to tell me I look like a Mortimer, are you?”

  I poked him in the arm. “No. But you look like a Kenny to me. Can I call you Kenny?”

  He frowned, mostly for show, I hoped. “Nobody calls me Kenny.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “You want to call me Kenny instead of Ken?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you want?”

  I pulled him to a stop. Three feet away a llama was chewing its cud or something. It sounded like it was eating a shirt. “That’s not even close to all I want,” I crooned huskily, leaning in close and whispering it in his ear.

  His eyes closed and his eyelashes fluttered. I was pretty sure mine did too. I could see he was trying not to smile.

  “Buy me dinner first,” he said. “Then we’ll talk about all the other stuff you want to do.”

  “There’s a steak house up ahead. Indoor dining.”

  “No. I want to stay with the animals. I want to walk. Can we eat and walk at the same time?”

  “You really are a cheap date. How about that popcorn and a pita pocket?”

  He flashed his million-dollar choppers. “Perfect!” He ratcheted down the excitement for a moment, then carefully added, “Say it once. Let me see what it sounds like.”

  I knew immediately what he meant. I leaned in close yet again. This time I was close enough that my lips brushed his ear. “Kenny,” I whispered with all the repressed intimacy I could muster.

  His lips parted slightly as if I’d struck a nerve. His hand came around to rest at the base of my spine. We were standing in the middle of the path, and we both ignored all the tourists trying not to mow us down.

  “I think I like it,” he said quietly. “I think I like it a lot.” He gave a shudder that appeared surprisingly sexual in nature, God help me; then he went through the motions of squaring his shoulders and taking his bearings. He even joggled his bow tie to make sure it was straight. “Now that we’ve addressed the issue of my name—and certain other things—how about that dinner you promised me?”

  Trying not to flash the boner in my pants for all the animal lovers to see, I dragged him toward a kiosk so I could stand in front of it until my ardor withdrew. While we were there, we ordered the biggest bucket of popcorn they had and enough carne asada pita pockets to keep us going for a while.

  As soon as our order was in our hands, he dragged me toward the sound of bears growling in the distance.

  His excitement was infectious. By the time we found the bear pen, we had grease and shreds of lettuce and cheese and popcorn dribbling down our shirts. Neither the popcorn nor the carne asada was exactly tender, and we both bemoaned the fact that it hadn’t come with a spool of floss. Giggling like kids, we waved to the bear in front of us.

  I knew I’d never ever forget it when I leaned in and explained to Kenny that the bear was waving back.

  Chapter Six

  IT WAS a perfect San Diego night. Stars peppered the sky like snowflakes. The moon was fat and full. The scent of apricots lay sweet on the breeze blowing up from the canyon. I couldn’t imagine why. There wasn’t an apricot tree within miles, I was sure, and I told Kenny as much.

  He sat cross-legged on the floor of my deck, his white cane forgotten beside him. François and Chuck were bouncing around, play growling, tugging at his sweater, and nipping at his pant cuffs. Every few seconds they leaped in to administer a swipe to his face with their tongues, which he never saw coming, to their immense delight. Giving the guy a tongue bath was something I hoped I might be able to do later myself, so I wasn’t happy that the dogs had beat me to it.

  Chortling with mirth, Kenny trapped the two dogs in a headlock, one under each arm, to stop the licking. All three of them were laughing and wrestling around. Two were merrily wagging their butts back and forth while they did it. Kenny’s butt was less mobile, so he simply sat there squirming and looking gorgeous.

  Head tilted back, eyes closed, that magnificent smile of his still plastered across his face, Kenny breathed deeply of the night air. “Oleanders,” he said between giggles. “That’s what the smell is. Not apricots. They smell remarkably alike, don’t they?”

  “Delicious,” I said, watching his smile and at the same time wondering why I had never smelled the flowers before.

  I studied his profile under the golden haze of porch lights. I could see the pulse beat in his throat. He turned those amazingly lost eyes in my general direction, only missing me by a hair. I licked my lips, and he must have heard, correcting the trajectory of his attention and this time nailing me dead center.

  “You’re watching me,” he said.

  “Best show in town,” I answered, grinning.

  “I’ll bet your view is terrific,” he said, clearly hoping to change the subject. “The view from the deck, I mean. Explain it to me.”

  “Umm, okay,” I said, not sure how to commence. I moved to the railing and stared out over the city. On the deck at my feet, Kenny’s hand came out to caress my ankle. I could feel him waiting to hear what I’d say.

  “Well, let’s see,” I began. “Far to the south I can see a string of glittering lights draped across the horizon. It’s a long way away, twenty miles or more, I think. The distance seems to make the little lights shimmer like they’re underwater. That’s Tijuana. Closer in, a whole blanket of colored lights are spread out everywhere in reds, golds, yellows, whites. That’s San Diego. Over to the east, I can see the freeway. It’s like a big ribbon weaving a path through the city. One side is a flowing tide of white headlights headed straight for us, the other side is a dwindling stream of red taillights, snaking away. It’s Saturday night, so there’s a lot of traffic,” I added lamely. I turned my back to the rail, and offered an apology. “I’m not very good at this. Sorry.”

  Kenny had released my ankle to cup the chin of each dog. He was now diligently scratching their throats, which they loved. He gazed up at me with his innocent green eyes. I could see the starlight overhead reflected in their depths. “No, Larry. You did good. You made me see it. Don’t sell yourself short. You made me see all of it.”

  I lowered myself to the floor beside him. Chuck peeled away from Kenny and came to give me some of his loving attention. Kenny’s hand came out and found my knee; he caressed it gently.

  “Do you still f
eel awkward around me?” he asked quietly.

  “N-no!” I said too quickly. “I never did.”

  He cast me a tiny pout, as if he didn’t quite believe me, but just as quickly he covered it up. His fingers moved over the fabric of my jeans as he squeezed my kneecap. “Good,” he said. “I want you to be comfortable.”

  “I am.”

  “Good,” he said again, and this time he didn’t look so doubtful. François had fallen asleep with his head in Kenny’s lap. Kenny lazily stroked his long back, causing François’s kinky coat to ripple beneath his hand.

  “Did you enjoy the zoo?” I asked.

  His smile was almost sad. “You know I did. I enjoyed your company too.”

  “Did you?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he scooted toward me and, reaching out to get his bearings, laid his forehead against my shoulder. François stirred in his lap but didn’t wake. Chuck’s tail thumped against the floor as he looked up at us from my lap.

  I tucked a finger under Kenny’s chin and lifted his head. Studying his handsome face, and praying to Jesus that my breath was okay, I laid a soft kiss to his mouth. When he kissed me back, I closed my eyes and breathed him in. He was a very good kisser. And he tasted heavenly.

  “You’ve done this before,” I jokingly mumbled with my lips still touching his.

  “How can you tell?” he asked, and his tongue came hesitantly into play. I opened my lips slightly and accepted him inside. Again, he tasted heavenly.

  “This is going to get out of hand very quickly if you don’t stop that,” I said, teasing, pulling back to gaze at his face.

  I noticed for the first time that his eyes were closed. His mouth was damp from our kiss, and his lips were still slightly parted. He was so beautiful, I had to swallow hard to keep my feelings in check.

  “Are you offering yourself to me,” I quietly asked.

  The faintest of smiles twisted his mouth. “Only if you want me,” he answered.

  “If you have to ask,” I said, “you really are blind.” I wrapped him tightly in my arms and pulled him close. This time when we kissed, I wasn’t particularly gentle. And to my utter and glorious amazement, neither was he.