by I. M. Flippy
They were lying in bed and talking about true crime. It turned out they had read a lot of the same books owing to Charlie's voracious interest. He’d read all about the Flower Man murders and realized he must have come across Jason’s name before and forgotten.
Now he was giving the hero writing tips. Charlie was an English major and a borderline obsessive reader, but he had never written a book himself in his life. Still, he considered himself to be skilled at picking things apart and seeing how they worked. And Jason was grateful for the feedback.
“Did you read that old book about Ted Bundy?” Charlie said. He lay on his side and drew circles on Jason’s chest, tugging gently on a lock of chest hair until Jason gasped a little and grabbed his hand, kissing his knuckles.
“Oh sure,” Jason muttered. But he was clearly more interested in kissing his way along Charlie’s long fingers than in the conversation. “Yeah, um... the one about how Ann Rule was a friend of his? That was wild.”
The writing advice had turned into writing advice over a couple drinks and Jason ended up closer and closer to Charlie, the two of them talking quietly out on the deck as the lights of other boats glimmered around them like stars until somehow they ended up attached at the mouth again and stumbling into bed.
Charlie slumped over on top of Jason and rested his head on that broad, thick chest. It was warm and just soft enough to be comfortable. He did not want to move, preferably, ever. He was still sore from the previous night’s sex, but that hadn’t stopped him from riding Jason into bliss again.
“I think what you said was really helpful,” Jason said. Charlie closed his eyes and basked in that deep rumble, and Jason combed his fingers through Charlie’s hair.
Never ever moving…
“I just think in those articles, you talked about your feelings,” Charlie mumbled. “Maybe ‘cause you were kinda fucked up. You did it before you could really think about it. You were all raw and open. You could stand to be like that again. In the book you’re holding back, like I said.”
“I’m not known for talking about my feelings,” Jason said wryly.
“Somehow that does not shock me,” Charlie said. He moaned a little when Jason tugged on his hair. “I mean I know you were never with a man before me, right?”
“No,” Jason murmured.
“Right, but I don’t know anything else,” Charlie said. He was skirting the line between casual and decidedly not casual. If they were casual, did any of this personal stuff matter? Yet he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Like did you think about guys before? Did you know you liked men as well as women?”
“I didn’t really think about it,” Jason said.
“C’mon,” Charlie said.
He had known he was gay around the age of ten. It was hard to imagine living half your life without knowing.
But maybe it was different for people who liked multiple genders.
“How?” he said.
“Well... I remember feeling kind of turned on around guys,” Jason said. “When I was young. But I just... I don’t know, I thought it was a general sexual feeling and everyone else was into girls and so was I, so I just didn’t think about it. Plus, like... I’m not super attracted to people physically unless I’m into them as a person—”
“Really?” Charlie sat up and blinked at him. “So…?”
“Yeah…” Jason blushed, and he moved his hand through Charlie’s hair to his cheek, stroking it so sweetly that Charlie thought: I am already in love. “I’ve always been that way.”
Jason didn’t explicitly say what was now obvious, but it was enough. Charlie swallowed and lay his head on Jason’s chest, feeling himself fall so much further.
“Hey.” Jason went back to stroking his hair. “I was thinking about checking out the bookstore in town. Thought you could show me the cool books. If you want. I’m free whenever.”
“Sure,” he said. He pushed the fear and anxiety away and kissed Jason’s chest. “I’ll show you all the cool books. Then I’ll take you out for that much-discussed boba.”
He was about to ask Jason if he wanted to go with him to the bookstore anyway. He liked to think they were riding the same wavelength somehow.
“Also, I had an idea but…” Jason chuckled, and Charlie felt the vibration of it through his chest. “I dunno. It’s probably too much. It’s really weird living out here alone on the boat, you know. You forget how things are supposed to work.”
“Tell me,” Charlie demanded, and tweaked his hip, feeling him squirm.
“Okay, okay. Well, if you want to… If you want to, I thought you could stay over a couple nights on the yacht and we could cruise around. Go out on the water or to the other side of the island. Swim, hang out, drink…”
“Bone.”
“That too.”
Stop making me fall in love with you unless it’s for real, Charlie thought. His throat was suddenly too tight, but he managed to whisper, “Okay, yeah. Sounds good.”
13
Jason
Charlie had three full days of restocking and bike tours and boat charters at the shop, so Jason kept himself busy tinkering with the introduction to his book and listening to true crime podcasts Charlie turned him onto. But he was restless, and he and Charlie ended up texting each other so often that they might as well have been together.
Finally, on a Wednesday, Jason went down to Crescent Avenue to meet Charlie at Porpoise Pot for their day of book shopping and boba. He took the golf cart this time and more than ever; he felt stupid tooling around in a vehicle with a giant flower on the hood.
He passed Andy, who winked at him from his pedi-cab and blew him a kiss that made him chuckle.
“Hey!” Jason parked the golf cart just as Charlie came running down the sidewalk and he felt the beat of his heart quicken. He was still three blocks from the store, but here was Charlie rushing past the slow tourists, his eyes fixed on Jason, a grin on his face.
No one knows me here, Jason thought, and he felt a sense of elation as if he were walking on air. Charlie reached him and Jason grabbed his arm and pulled him aside under the awning of an ice cream shop. He pushed him gently against the pastel blue wall and laid a determined kiss on his lips. Charlie wrapped his arms around him, and they made out lazily until Jason finally pulled away, dazed and drunk.
“Hi,” Jason said.
“Hey to you too,” Charlie said. He pecked Jason’s lips and squeezed his hand. “Let’s go look at books.”
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long,” Jason said, surprised at himself as he turned a corner in the golf cart. Charlie sat back in his seat and turned his head to smile at him, squinting because the sun was hitting them just so.
“It’s only been three days,” Charlie pointed out. “And you text a lot more than I would expect of a man your age.”
“A man my age!” Jason huffed and pretended to be more offended than he was. “I’m only forty-two.”
“You’re ten years older than me,” Charlie pointed out. “In a culture this accelerated, that’s a lot.”
“Too many?” Jason said. He grimaced at Charlie, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Oh, no, no, no!” Charlie laughed into Jason’s shoulder. “No, I’m sorry. I’m totally joking. I don’t think of you as much older. I just think of you as having had a really different life.”
“All right.” He gripped the steering wheel harder as Charlie kissed his cheek. “That I can handle.”
Gus’s Books usually had a decent crowd, as it was the only bookstore on the island. They parked three blocks away, but the walk didn’t hurt Jason’s leg. His limp was slight, but he didn’t miss the way Charlie was probably walking more slowly than he usually would and how he had not yet let go of Jason’s hand.
“So, this old dude, Taglen Brown, used to own the bookstore,” Charlie said, as he led him up the cobblestone path to a pink Victorian with the wooden sign over the verandah that read Gus’s Books. “It was Brown Books
forever, like fifty years and he ran it until he was eighty or something, and then Gus’s father brought it and he ran it. But he died just a year later. This was about six years ago.”
“Oh.” Jason frowned and followed Jason through the front door. “That’s sad.”
“It was,” Charlie said. “Gus and his dad were super close, and his mom died when he was a baby. Anyway, so Gus inherited the place from his dad. He thought about selling but it was in the middle of all that grief, you know? Taglen talked him out of it and convinced him to change the name.”
Jason expected a small store, but the house was much bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside. The owners had renovated a lot over the years, but the guts of the place were still of their original period: dark wood everywhere and shiny wood floors. They’d knocked down some walls to make more room for shelving, and it went back and back and back. A big stairwell in the middle led up to more books on the second floor and Gus’s apartment on the third. Jason led Charlie to the front desk where he waved hello to a girl sitting at the register. He pointed to a framed portrait on the wall of a middle-aged man and a little boy with black hair and wire-rimmed glasses.
“That’s Gus,” Charlie said, and spotting something out of the corner of his eye, spun them around just as quickly. “And that’s Gus. Hey!”
Gus was short, was Jason’s first thought. He was also bookishly handsome. He wore glasses and a gray sweater with dark jeans. He didn’t look like somebody who lived on an island so close to the beach. He smiled at Charlie and nodded politely at Jason.
“Gus, this is Jason,” Charlie said. “He’s new to the island, so I had to take him to the most important hotspot first. He’s writing a book! He has an advance and everything!”
Jason was sure he blushed scarlet, but Gus’s eyes widened, and he answered questions for the next few minutes before going into an effusive rant on Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood.
“Gus, if you get started on Capote, we’ll be here all day,” Charlie said.
“You’re not wrong,” Gus said. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you. I should get back to it.”
“Yeah, and don’t worry, I’m going to catch that ya know…” Charlie threw him an obvious wink.
“Yes,” Gus whispered. “Thanks. I sure haven’t been able to catch him yet.” He looked around as if someone might be listening before finally walking away.
“Oh, is that about the uh…” Jason whispered in Charlie’s ear. “The package thief.”
“Yeah.” Charlie shrugged. “I think it’s driving him a little nuts.”
“It’s sweet of you to help him,” Jason said, as Charlie tugged on his arm and dragged him over to the True Crime section.
“Well, I like to help if I can,” Charlie said, and looked so cutely sheepish about it that Jason wanted to drag him into another dark corner, but he contented himself with squeezing the back of his neck instead. “I mean neighbors should help neighbors.”
“I like that,” Jason said. “You know, if I didn’t already live here, you’d make me want to. It’s got to be a special place if you like it here so much.”
Charlie opened and closed his mouth as they hovered around True Crime. “Sweet talker,” he finally said under his breath.
They spent ages at Gus’s and Jason considered it time well spent. When his stomach started rumbling, Charlie noticed it before he did.
“Sounds like you need some food,” Charlie whispered. He chuckled and kissed Jason’s cheek and there was something about the familiarity of it, as if this was just another day passing the time together on the island, that made Jason desperately want more.
But he only said, “Yeah, guess I could eat.”
He had a stack of books, mostly Charlie’s recommendations. He insisted on buying Charlie a few too. He was determined to get Charlie interested in a series of spy novels that always kept him on the edge of his seat. They rang up their purchase and packed the books away in the small trunk at the back of the golf cart before heading to Big Boba.
“I don’t know if donuts will be very filling,” Jason said, as he drove them. “Might need a burger or something.”
“They have meat empanadas,” Charlie said. “You probably only saw the donuts because you’re totally obsessed with donuts—”
“I am not obsessed with donuts.”
“You probably have a donut blog,” Charlie said lightly, leaning on Jason’s shoulder as he rambled. “You probably have a Tumblr about donuts and it’s all donut gifs. I bet you write donut fanfiction.”
Jason was laughing so hard, he had to pull over and Charlie watched him, looking very proud of what he’d done. “What…” Jason leaned on his knees and wiped his eyes. “What is donut fanfiction? What is a Tumblr? What does that even mean?”
“You tell me,” Charlie said.
Charlie kept Jason laughing all the way to Big Boba where he ordered them a pile of food courtesy of Selkie Sugar and two giant cups of boba with extra pearls. They sat in the furthest corner of the patio and Charlie sat forward and stared at Jason while he took his first sip, as if everything depended on whether or not he liked it.
“Oh! It’s very sweet and... fruity.” He took another sip and coughed. “Oh, the slimy thingies—”
“The pearls!”
Jason had a mouthful of the pearls and he chewed and swallowed, frowning as he tried to make up his mind. “What are they for? They’re not...they’re... weird?”
Charlie’s nose wrinkled and he giggled at Jason’s confusion. He slapped the table and Jason bit his lip, entertained by his amusement. “What’s anything for? They’re tapioca balls.”
“Very sweet,” Jason said again. He took another drink from the overly large straw, less startled this time when a bunch of slippery little pearls came up with his drink. He chewed thoughtfully. “I like it. I like it a lot. I like sweet things.”
“That explains your fondness for me,” Charlie said, without missing a beat.
But Charlie blushed when Jason said, “It does actually.”
“So, tell me about being a cop,” Charlie said.
“Hold on!” Jason raised a hand, as if to physically stop him. “I feel like I’m always talking about that stuff. I don’t know that much about you. Tell me about living here?”
“Oh…” Charlie sat back, and Jason watched him retreat, his shoulders hunching again. “Not much to tell. I like living here. It’s touristy, yeah. You have to order a lot of stuff online to come in on boats and there’s only one movie theater that only plays one movie at a time so you have to take the boat to Long Beach for that or for tons of things which I haven’t done in forever. But... I like knowing everyone. I like…” He shrugged and looked down into his boba drink, suddenly very interested in poking the tapioca balls with his straw.
“You like to help your neighbors,” Jason said.
“I mean. I guess, for one. I like knowing everyone and seeing their lives go by and being a part of them?” He squirmed in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “I don’t think that’s a huge deal. I didn’t catch a serial killer or anything.”
“Don’t downplay it,” Jason said. He stared at Charlie, unsmiling, driving his point home. “You care about helping people and making their lives better and that’s the stuff of a great life. Kinda gives me hope, you know? I got kinda dark after the Flower Man stuff.”
“It can’t be easy to see the worst of humanity,” Charlie said. Jason could tell he was eager to change the subject from himself. That always seemed to be the way with spectacular people and that’s what Charlie was, he decided. Spectacular.
“I guess it’s not yeah,” Jason said. “You get in a weird headspace. Forget the good stuff. And I’d have... nightmares.” He swallowed and sucked on his drink. He never spoke about that part. He’d told the counselor on the force about his dark Walter Patton dreams. But he’d never said a word to Alyssa. Not that she didn’t ask.
“Like what?” Charlie prodded. He spok
e softly, and sat unmoving, waiting for Jason to go on.
“Like the kids he killed are haunting me,” Jason said. “I mean listen, there were other detectives on that case. There was an entire team, and some of them were a lot deeper into it than I was. I just ended up catching him. We probably all dream stuff like that, just—”
“Don’t diminish it,” Charlie said. “You do that, you know. You make it sound like you didn’t do anything important when you totally did. And you’re allowed to be fucked up about it.”
“Yeah…” He squinted at Charlie. “That’s probably what my ex, Alyssa, tried to tell me a hundred times. Not sure I was great at listening before.” His stomach was twisting just having talked about it this much after so long. But it felt more comfortable than it had before. “I’m not used to talking about it either. Not like this.”
“I can tell,” Charlie said.
“But it’s not that hard with you,” Jason said. “That’s weird, huh?”
“Yeah,” Charlie said, and they gazed at each other over the table, the pile of meat empanadas all but forgotten. “It’s weird.”
“But it’s a good weird,” Jason said, and a peaceful feeling came over him; unfamiliar but welcome. “I don’t mind it.”
14
Charlie
“Andy, help.” Charlie paced in his bedroom, his phone on speaker in his hand.
His mother’s house was a two-story bungalow that sat on one of the many steep little hills of Avalon’s southernmost neighborhood. It was an old white Victorian in need of some renovation, but it had splendid views of both the ocean and Wrigley mansion and there was enough space that Charlie and his mother could stay out of each other’s way. Charlie liked to make jokes about being a Norman Bates, but other than the bit of self-consciousness he walked around with on an average day, he didn’t begrudge living with his mother who he considered the kindest person he knew. Sandra knitted, talked to her houseplants, and smoked an epic amount of weed. At the moment, she was blitzed, listening to Indigo Girls out on the patio.