by I. M. Flippy
She wasn’t making him any less nervous.
But Jason looked placid when Charlie turned back. He was standing in the shade of the avocado tree that grew too fast, and whose branches hung too low and dropped leaves and fruit on the bikes, littering the ground and making customers step around them because Charlie could not keep up with the raking.
He unlocked two bikes, moving like a robot, and rolled them out, kicking out the stands before fetching helmets from the garage and refilling two water bottles. Jason followed his lead, taking a helmet and a bike, and they walked them back out to the street in front.
“We’re just going to ride this way all the way past the shore and then there’s a sharp turn and another road and we’ll get into the tour,” Charlie said, reciting his usual tour speech. Jason looked a little tentative, and he added, “There’s a bit of an incline before we get to the trail, but it’s slight.”
Jason nodded, but he didn’t immediately put on his helmet like Charlie was doing. He was frozen, staring at the bike. His mouth was puckered as if he’d eaten something sour. Charlie’s brows drew together and without thinking, he took Jason’s hand in his. Jason looked at him, startled.
“If your leg is really bugging you today, you don’t have to do this, you know,” Charlie said. “Or you can work up to it. We can ride on the beach trail. It’s flatter. It’s a little crowded but—”
“No.” Jason squeezed his hand back and Charlie let it drop. “Let’s give it a shot. Just not looking forward to embarrassing myself is all.” Charlie rubbed his head. Jason looked sheepish and cute, and Charlie sighed inwardly.
“You won’t embarrass yourself,” Charlie said. “We’ll go slow. I’ll ride a little ahead of you just to lead the way, but don’t feel you have to keep up either. And for God’s sakes, give a yell if you need to stop. This really isn’t a big deal.” He smiled, trying to keep it light.
He reminded himself that Jason was a cop. He was thick and muscled and it didn’t seem like whatever had caused his injury was too deep in the past. He was probably still used to being able-bodied. It had to be hard for him to make the adjustment, and as much as Charlie thought nothing of their age difference, he was younger and in great shape, especially where biking was concerned.
“All right,” Jason said. He put on his helmet. It was light blue with a green stripe and it looked faintly ridiculous on Jason, especially when he buckled the strap and smiled widely. “Let’s do it.”
Charlie stifled a laugh and nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Charlie strapped his own helmet on securely, and they set off in the bike lane on Crescent Avenue. Charlie led them around a corner and then around a long curve out of the main drag. Soon enough they were far from the crowds of tourists and the hubbub of traffic. It was quiet, and the day was clear and bright. Charlie focused on riding more slowly than usual as he led Jason up a gradual incline on a dirt road that looked out over the cove behind the Avalon Ballroom. The cliff side was green with wildflowers growing alongside it and the ocean was a deep and glimmering blue. Other bikers and golf carts full of chattering guests passed them on the road. Charlie glanced over his shoulder at Jason and saw him nod, smiling tightly. But he didn’t look like he was struggling much.
Charlie nodded, and they rode on. His instinct was to ask Jason if he was really doing okay, but he had the feeling Jason wouldn’t appreciate being overly mothered. He’d say something if he needed to stop, or Charlie hoped he would.
They had been riding steadily for a half hour and ventured down a trail between two hills away from the ocean when Charlie heard Jason shout. “Hey! Charlie... fuck.”
Charlie stopped short and scrambled off his bike. Jason had stopped several yards back. He was wheezing, stumbling over to lean on a tree, and grabbing his bike so it wouldn’t fall over as he did so. As if it mattered if he let the bike hit the dirt. Something about that seemed absurdly thoughtful, and he grabbed his extra bottle of water from its holder on his bike and trotted over.
Jason’s face was bright red, his mouth a sickly grimace as he caught his breath, leaning over to rub at his leg. “It’s my fault,” he said. “Pushed myself too far when I knew I shouldn’t. I was goin’ good for a while there.”
Charlie bit his lip. “Hey, it’s cool. We’ll rest a bit. Ride back when you’re up to it.”
Poor Jason closed his eyes. He ducked his head, clearly mortified. “I can’t ride back, I’m afraid. I apologize. This was stupid of me to—”
“Hey, whoa.” Charlie was quiet. He stepped into Jason’s space and patted his shoulder. “This stuff happens all the time. Honestly. I want you to stay right here in the shade and drink this water. There were some golf carts cruising by, not too far down. I’m gonna ride down and catch one. We’ll come back for you and drive you back. No big deal.”
Jason agreed, although it was obvious to Charlie that it took a lot of will for him to agree with getting picked up because he couldn’t go on himself. Charlie suspected he was barely holding himself back from insisting Charlie just leave him there until he could make it back himself. But who knew how long that would take?
Charlie left him sitting on a log under a tree. He reminded him again to drink his water. It was hot out and the last thing he needed was Jason passing out from dehydration on a hot day. But he hopped on his bike and this time he rode expertly and at top speed, back down the gently winding trail between the hills to a cliffside road until he finally saw two golf carts up ahead, inching along as the riders enjoyed the scenery.
“Hey! Hey, sorry! Can you stop for a second, please!” Charlie rode up alongside them and waved.
“Oh!” One of the riders in the second cart was an older lady who Charlie recognized as having purchased some of his mother’s chunky blankets the day before and she waved happily at Charlie. “It’s that nice boy from the shop. Hello!”
Charlie summed up his most charming grin, still catching his breath as he hopped off his bike. “Hi. I need your help.”
7
Jason
Jason had two problems riding his rented bicycle behind Charlie, and only one of them was his leg.
His second problem was also to do with a body part, but it was not his own.
Jason had not prepared himself for Charlie wearing such tight clothes. When Charlie walked up wearing a pair of black bike shorts that hugged an impressive package Jason had trouble not staring. He was immediately turned on and trying to cover for it. But it wasn’t just his bulge that was distracting. It was everything. Charlie was in excellent shape, but it was odd the way he carried himself like he wasn’t. His thin clingy T-shirt showed off a leanly muscled body, those broad shoulders tapering to a slim waist.
Then Charlie had turned around and climbed on his bike and Jason’s mouth had watered.
Charlie’s ass was luscious.
“Luscious” was the first word that popped into Jason’s head. Charlie’s ass was luscious, and a little rounder than he would have expected considering his build. It was torture to ride behind that gorgeous ass as his leg increasingly nagged at him until he could go no further, a dull ache becoming an insistent sharp pain. He’d pushed it, and it had exhausted him. He knew from experience if he pushed much further he was likely to seriously hurt himself or simply pass out.
He was only grateful Charlie left him by the side of the road for a while. It was cool in the shade, and he had a nearly full bottle of water. He drank, and his leg still pained him. He sat on the ground under a tree and stretched it the way his physical therapist had taught him back in LA. That helped a little. He sighed and rubbed at his thigh, feeling the ridged scar of the gunshot wound below the fabric of his shorts.
He should be happy about all this. This was the most he’d challenged his injury since the shooting. It was a big step. He just should have stopped the ride sooner.
He took a breath and leaned his head on the tree. When he closed his eyes; he saw Charlie’s perfect ass in those bicycle shorts… He imagined c
upping that ass in his hands, what it would feel like if Charlie straddled him and slid those long-fingered hands up his chest…
He jerked at the sound of a tinny golf cart honk and staggered to his feet, wincing. He’d need to rest the leg for a couple days before he gave it a workout again.
Charlie rode in the backseat of a golf cart driven by a couple in their sixties. The lady waved as they pulled up in front of him and Charlie hopped out, immediately grabbing Jason’s bike to attach it next to his own on the cart’s bike rack.
“How we doin’?” Charlie said, tossing him a nod. He sounded mercifully casual about it.
“Happy to see my ride’s here,” Jason said, gritting his teeth as he limped over to the back of the cart. He nodded at the senior couple in front. “Hey, how are you guys doing? Thanks so much for the ride. I really appreciate it. Bit off more than I could chew this afternoon.”
“We’re happy to help!” the man said. Jason took his seat, and the man reached over the back to shake his hand as he got comfortable. “Earl Benson, Long Beach. Nice to meet ya. You’re a retired police officer, right?”
The couple was effusively chatty, and they asked Jason a load of questions about being a cop. He was grateful they didn’t ask what was wrong with his leg. Jason didn’t mind talking about it, but it always felt awkward in the course of a conversation so casual.
The couple took them all the way back to the shop. Jason climbed off the cart, grimacing as he put all his weight on his right leg to step out onto the sidewalk. He was about to grab his bike, but Charlie beat him to it, hitching Jason’s bike over his shoulder as he walked the other beside him and thanked the couple who tooted as they rolled away.
Charlie turned to look at him. He was sweaty but grinning, and Jason watched the way his muscles flexed carrying the bike. “If you feel like it, you want to get a bite and a drink or no?”
“Yes.” Jason sighed in relief. “That would be perfect.”
“Cool!” Jason nodded at an empty bench in front of the shop. “Just wait here, and I’ll put these away. We can take one of our carts. I know a great place.”
Charlie’s great place was a Mexican restaurant called El Pato. It was far enough inland that it was not packed with tourists. It sat on a steep hill and had a patio looking out on the ocean. Charlie hovered around Jason as he hobbled his way to an umbrella-shaded table. He could practically feel Charlie’s good intentions as if they were a physical presence, and he appreciated how hard the guy was trying not to overstep.
He sat down at the table and sighed happily, already anticipating one of the margaritas he saw going by on a tray.
When the server came over, he barely got a word out before Jason said, “One of those giant Cadillac margaritas. Rocks and salt.”
Charlie opened his mouth once the server had left and Jason could already sense that he would ask about his leg. “I got shot,” he said, before Charlie could ask the question. “That’s what happened.” His shoulders rose and fell as if he were talking about the weather.
He watched Charlie’s eyes widen and his mouth trembled before he said, “Christ, you got shot? Are you serious?”
“Yeah…” He couldn’t quite look at Charlie, and instead his gaze drifted over the couples sitting down for late lunches or early dinners. They all smiled so confidently at each other as they sipped their colorful drinks, as if they all knew just what they wanted. “I mean it happens. They offered me a desk job once, and I just decided I’d... try something else. It was kind of a lark. I enjoyed being a cop. But I wrote a couple articles about my experiences, and that kind of became its own thing. So now I’m working on a book.”
Charlie sat back in his chair and said nothing, staring off at the sea as the server returned and set out their drinks. Jason took a long swallow of his margarita and for a moment everything seemed to slow down. He allowed himself a few moments to stare at Charlie who looked serious and also especially handsome, the breeze blowing his dark hair back, his jaw sharp as he frowned out at the view. He had long, thick eyelashes, Jason noticed.
“But what happened?” Charlie finally said. “Who shot you?”
Jason scratched his scalp and in his head he saw Walter Patton’s gaunt face, the light flashing in the lenses of his glasses as he whipped out the gun....
Jason’s hair was buzzed short, and it was soft between his fingers. He pushed away the memory of the Flower Man and thought instead of what it might be like to tug on Charlie’s hair. Did he like that kind of thing? Was his hair soft? Would it make him moan? Would his head tip back as he bared his throat? Would that wide, pink mouth fall open?
Jason cleared his throat.
“It was a serial killer,” he said, half into his drink. “Walter Patton. Also known as the Flower Man Killer. He killed teenagers. A bunch of us were tracking him down. Finding him felt like dumb luck, really. I found him. But he shot me first.”
Jason kept the rest to himself; the body in the closet, the photographs of dead kids, the nightmares he still had. That stuff wasn’t for casual conversation over margaritas. He already felt a little bare under Charlie’s intense doe-eyed gaze.
“I thought it was going to be something like you fell off a roof,” Charlie said, his lip stuck out in a little pout. “I don’t know why, I just… I’ve never known anyone who got shot before. I mean, I’ve heard of the Flower Man. I read a lot of true crime. I’m sure I’ve heard your name somewhere, but I didn’t make the connection.” Charlie raised his glass, and Jason raised his. “Cheers, I guess.”
8
Charlie
“Favorite movie,” Charlie said. He leaned on his hand and missed the first time, his chin slipping off his palm. Jason giggled, smirking at his slight drunkenness, and Charlie rolled his eyes. “Well?
“Favorite of all time?” Jason said. He snorted. “I don’t know!”
“C’moooon.” Charlie kicked him under the table. “Gimme an idea at least.”
“Uh, I watched Dog Day Afternoon for about the hundredth time the other day—”
“Oooh, shit.” Charlie nodded and pounded his fist on the table. “Fucking love that movie. That’s like in my top twenty. Oh! What about Serpico? You’re a cop, you must love—”
“I love Serpico!” Jason stared at him with wide eyes as if Charlie had just said the magic words. Charlie laughed, and it faded into a contented hum as they stared at each other and he leaned in a little, enchanted.
This kept happening, as if the two of them were magnetized and constantly drawing closer.
They ate fajitas and chips and drank their Cadillac margaritas. Charlie didn’t have the slightest chance of paying a dime for any of it, he discovered.
He didn’t miss the way Archie, their server, who Charlie knew casually through mutual friends, gave him a knowing wink when Jason took the check. It made him blush. It felt good to have a handsome man treating him, even if there was no romance or sex in the equation.
“You want to come back to my boat?” Jason said. “Hang out? Unless… I mean, if you’re busy…” Jason wasn’t quite looking at him. He was tapping his hands on his knees.
Charlie felt like his heart was somewhere in the vicinity of his throat and he nodded dumbly. “Sure. Yeah sure. That would be cool.”
Jason wouldn’t let Charlie help him back into the golf cart even though his leg was obviously hurting him, and it made Charlie huff and tease him. But then they were tooling along the short, steep streets back toward Crescent Avenue as Jason drove with one hand, the other ever so casually stretched behind Charlie’s shoulders. The sun was just setting, and it made everything look pink and orange; the light reflecting off the white of the cart. The seats were small, and Jason squeezed in tight next to him, their thighs pressed together.
Those thick thighs, Charlie thought.
Charlie had long fingers and big palms. He could imagine gripping those thick thighs all dusted with hair, ducking his head to take Jason in his mouth…
He glanced
at Jason and saw him looking back at him. He sat up a little straighter as Jason drove them to the dock.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said stiffly.
“Sure,” Jason said. He hadn’t looked away. Jason kept looking at him with intent. Charlie was sure it would drive him mad if nothing was done about it that night.
“Oof…” Jason’s hand shook as he climbed down from the dock into the dinghy and, pride or no, Charlie didn’t wait to ask him if he needed help this time. He took Jason’s arm and supported most of his weight, his muscles flexing. Jason stumbled and Charlie came with him. He’d landed half on top of Jason and they both shifted, chuckling nervously, until Charlie braced his hand on Jason’s chest, one leg flung over him. He meant to move, but instead realized Jason was staring at him again and his heart pounded under Charlie’s palm.
“How’s your leg?” Charlie said.
“Eh, it’s killing me,” Jason said, as if it were nothing. “But I’ll live.”
The setting sun made Jason’s blue eyes glimmer, and his mouth was parted.
Kiss me, Charlie thought. He couldn’t do it himself. If he were wrong, it would ruin everything.
Reluctantly, he moved away, blushing yet again as he sat back in the boat, giggling in that way of his he hated. He couldn’t control it sometimes. He pushed his hair back and turned away from Jason.
“Let’s go, Don Johnson,” he said offhandedly. “I want to see this pleasure ship.”
“Well, you’re about to be incredibly disappointed,” Jason said, and just like that, things felt easy again.
Charlie ended up liking Jason’s yacht.
Jason had an easier time climbing up onto the boat than he had climbing into the dinghy. This time it was Jason helping Charlie. He climbed up the short ladder to the deck and leaned down, offering his hand. Charlie swallowed and when he reached up and grabbed Jason’s hand, he felt like something was subtly shifting between them.