Dinner at the Blue Moon Cafe

by Rick R. Reed

  “You smoke?” Thad was stunned.

  “Used to. I quit. Four years ago. But I need this now. It calms me. I hope it doesn’t bother you.” First Sam and now Jared. Thad wondered if he shouldn’t take up the bad habit himself, just to be one of the boys.

  “Jared… what’s wrong?”

  Jared sat and smoked, stared off into the distance. After a bit he said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” One of the dogs wandered in from the bedroom, the rat terrier this time. He hopped up on the couch and snuggled up to Jared’s thigh. The smoke didn’t seem to bother him.

  “Hey, Fred.” Jared stroked the dog.

  “Jared, what’s going on?”

  Jared took a few more drags on the cigarette, then ground it out in an ashtray Thad had yet to notice. It was nearly overflowing with butts. Jared sighed and shook his head. “Last night….”

  Jared stopped talking. His eyes sparkled with fear. He seemed unable to find the breath to put behind any more words.

  Jesus! What’s going on? Did Jared get into some kind of bad sex scene last night? Had he been beaten or forced to do something against his will?

  Thad searched Jared’s face and exposed skin for some signs of injury but found nothing. “What happened last night? You can tell me. I’m your friend.” Thad laid what he hoped was a comforting hand on Jared’s thigh.

  Jared picked up the cigarette pack, considered it, then threw it back down to the coffee table’s glass surface. “Last night I saw something horrible.”

  Jared didn’t say anything for a long time. He simply sat and stared into the distance, as if he was seeing something only he could see. Whatever internal movie was running before Jared’s eyes, it was obviously deeply troubling. Jared had always been the happy-go-lucky one of the two of them, the one with the jokes, the dirty mind, the attitude that he could take whatever came his way. But now he looked like a terrified man, as if something had so traumatized him it morphed his entire demeanor, making of Jared a sad, shriveled thing, too frightened to do much more than stare and occasionally tremble.

  “Tell me,” Thad whispered.

  Jared slid up next to Thad, positioning himself so he could put his head on Thad’s chest. “Last night I saw something you won’t believe.”

  “What?” Thad could not imagine what Jared had seen. Did this have something to do with the killings lately? Had Jared been a witness? No, that was too far-fetched. Things like that didn’t happen to people one knew, right?

  Jared sucked in a great, quivering breath. “I was out last night, you know? Playing the tomcat as usual. Met up with several guys at Club Z, had some fun, and then I hooked up with this really hot little Latino. Man, he was tireless!” A flicker of a grin worked its way across Jared’s features, then vanished. “I left him on the street. He wanted to come home with me. Oh God, how I wish he had!” Jared grew quiet again.

  “But you know me, patron saint of lost causes. I couldn’t just leave the guy standing there in the street. He was on the verge of tears, for Christ’s sake. So I went back. And that’s when I saw Hector again….” Jared’s voice trailed off, and it almost seemed the temperature in the room dropped by a few degrees.

  It was quiet once more for a while. But Thad didn’t want to push his friend.

  Finally, when Jared spoke again, his voice was dead.

  “You heard, probably, that there was another killing last night. It was Hector, the guy I hooked up with… and left there to die. When I came back, I didn’t see him and thought he’d gone home or back to the bathhouse. I was about to go home when I heard a sound come from the alley… like a growl and a whimper. I went to look.” Jared lifted his head to stare into Thad’s eyes. Jared’s own eyes were alive with fear.

  “The thing had Hector. It had ripped him apart. There was blood everywhere.”

  Jared began to weep, and Thad, stunned, could do little more than pat his friend’s back.

  “What thing?”

  Jared sat up and, with shaking hands, lit another cigarette. He stared into the cloud of blue-gray smoke. Jared closed his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  Thad didn’t know what to think. Had his friend lost his mind? What was in there, anyway? What was he seeing as that endless loop of horror memories playing in his head? “I trust you, man. Just tell me.”

  “I saw a werewolf.”

  Chapter 9

  MONDAY MORNING Sam went outside the café to pick up a newspaper from the box on the corner. It had been a rough weekend, and he’d gotten little sleep. His eyes burned, and his muscles felt like those of an old man, stretched beyond endurance, aching. He shuffled like so many of the old guys back in Sicily as he approached the mailbox, then laughed and forced himself to pick up his pace, even though it hurt to do so.

  He slid some quarters into the box and opened the creaking front to take out a paper, then gasped when he saw the headline on the front page—

  IS A WEREWOLF STALKING SEATTLE?

  Sam’s legs grew so weak and rubbery that he had to sit down suddenly on the curb. His heart thudded in his chest. He stared at the headline until his eyes blurred, disbelieving.

  When he could compose himself, just barely, he scanned the story, reading over the details of how an unidentified witness had come forward to tell a tale of having seen what appeared to be an “enormous wolflike” creature in an alley in Capitol Hill, still feasting on the remains of his latest victim, Hector Garcia.

  Bile splashed at the back of his throat. Sam forced himself to stand on unsteady legs and, as best he could, hurried back inside, whispering, “The family needs to know.”

  THAD NEEDED comfort. He had spent all of Sunday dispensing that precious commodity to Jared and felt he had none left to expend on himself. The day before had been such a drain that today, Monday, exhaustion ate at Thad. He was in one of those states where he was simply too tired to sleep. The concept of being too tired to sleep was one he had never made much sense of, but now, even when he tried to nap—his body achy with weariness—his mind kept racing every time he lay down, as if he were sabotaging himself.

  He had spent all yesterday morning and afternoon with Jared, returning to his Green Lake studio only to pick up Edith, who couldn’t be left by herself for hours on end. She had more self-control than Thad in many ways, but her bladder was too small to be ignored for long periods. Thad had hurried back to his place on Jared’s Vespa to pick up Edith, put her in a backpack—thank heaven for toy dogs!—and come back to Jared, who was desperately afraid of being alone.

  The pair had spent almost the entire day on the couch, sitting close. Thad alternately comforted Jared with soothing words and reassurances that he was safe and tried to distract him with old movies and junk food. Nothing seemed to help much. His friend’s sense of humor had been replaced by fear and paranoia.

  Finally Thad had convinced him to go to the closest police precinct and report what he had seen. Jared had been more than reluctant. “They’ll think I’m nuts!” he had protested.

  “You are nuts, sweetheart. But that doesn’t change what you saw. Now, let’s go. I am not taking no for an answer on this one.” It was the only time Thad had been firm with Jared, but he knew if he didn’t take charge, he would never persuade Jared to leave the apartment. The police were initially interested, but their interest faded when Jared began talking about having seen a werewolf. Interest had turned to humoring, and Thad felt embarrassed for Jared. The detective they spoke to dutifully logged in Jared’s recollections, gave him his card, and advised him to stay close in case the department had further questions.

  As they left the station, a reporter from one of the Seattle papers caught up with them, and in spite of Thad’s advice not to talk to her, Jared spilled out his whole story to the reporter. Thad thought it was a mistake, knowing the field day the press would have with Jared’s hair-raising and sensational story, but he was unable to dam the flow of words springing forth from his friend’s mouth once he had a
receptive audience.

  Thad had spent the night in Jared’s bed. For once no sexual charge passed between them. The night’s passage was all about comfort and Thad seeing his friend safely through to the morning’s light. All through the night, as the room subtly lightened into dawn, Thad held Jared in his arms. He was Jared’s protector not only against werewolves but against nightmares and actual memories that were far worse than any nightmare.

  So Thad had not slept. Not a wink. And now he sat on his couch and wondered what he should do. Jared had obviously been so traumatized by what had happened that his mind had played tricks on him. A werewolf? That was laughable. Although the thought did chill him as he recalled the brilliant full moon hanging over Green Lake on Saturday night. But Jared had seen his friend savagely murdered—maybe not the act itself, but the carnage that remained. That enough might be enough to send someone’s fragile mind into overdrive, hallucinating some explanation drawn from a horror movie.

  Maybe.

  But what if Jared had actually seen something monstrous? An animal, perhaps, some freak of nature? Or perhaps the killer was some kind of feral man, filthy and covered in hair. Or maybe Jared had seen nothing at all. The image of his friend torn apart, blood splashing the alley bricks, might be enough to have sent Jared over the edge. A shadow became a wolf man. The bark of a mutt the forlorn howl of a werewolf. It was pretty easy to understand.

  Edith slept curled in an armchair perpendicular to the couch. Outside, the afternoon had turned bright, a brilliant Indian-summer day with blue skies highlighting the reds, browns, and yellows of autumn leaves. It all seemed incongruous with the fatigue and turmoil going on not only inside Thad but also with, seemingly, the whole city of Seattle.

  One thing was for sure: three gay men had been brutally killed in as many months, and it was hard to ignore that these killings had to somehow be linked.

  Running was always a panacea for Thad’s body as well as his mind. And even though part of him ached for the oblivion of sleep, he decided maybe by running, he could quell the thoughts racing through his mind and wear out his body so completely, it would have no choice but to surrender to sleep, even if was the middle of the afternoon.

  He slid into a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and his Asics, did a few stretches in the apartment, and headed out for the three-mile trail that circled the lake.

  As he was walking back, winded, he passed the Blue Moon Café and stopped. Sam was inside, wiping down the bar, even though the place was not open. The sight of him made Thad’s heart pound with even more force. Where have you been, my man? Thad stood, watching Sam as he washed wineglasses, dried them, and placed them in a rack above the bar. Someone else he didn’t know, a guy about his own age with dirty-blond hair, swept the floor. Graziela stood at the hostess desk, writing, her black hair a curtain obscuring her face.

  Before he even knew he had made the decision, Thad’s running-sore legs took him to the front door of the café. Sam looked up, and Thad almost turned around, crushed. Sam did not smile when he saw him. He turned and resumed his glass washing with even more intensity and concentration, almost as if he were pretending their eyes had not met.

  What’s going on?

  Thad briefly considered turning around and going home. But his curious nature wouldn’t allow that. He took a breath, marched up to the door, and yanked on it.

  It was locked.

  Graziela looked up, glanced at Thad, then over at Sam. Sam directed his gaze once more toward Thad, and Thad swore he pretended he was seeing Thad for the very first time. His smile was forced and not at all genuine as he hurried to the front door, wiping his hands on his apron.

  A pang of nauseous fear settled in Thad’s gut. Was it over? Many men had unceremoniously dumped him in the past. Why should Sam be any different? And when they had dumped him, it had usually been like this… with no fanfare, just passive-aggressive ignorance.

  Sam unlocked the door and threw it open.

  “Thad! What a surprise! Come in, come in.”

  Sam’s voice seemed warm but had an edgy wariness to it Thad could not quite identify and hadn’t ever been there before. Sam glanced over his shoulder at Graziela, who disappeared into the back. “You want to come in? We’re not open for another few hours, but you are always welcome.”

  “Thanks.” Thad followed Sam into the empty restaurant.

  “Bill? Why don’t you, um, take five? Go have a smoke?” The guy sweeping the floor smiled in gratitude and hurried outside, already patting his pockets for the accoutrements for his next fix.

  “I have a lot to do to get ready for tonight, but I always have time for you.” Sam’s gaze met Thad’s, and Thad relaxed a bit. Sam’s words, coupled with the intensity of their eyes meeting, reassured him that Sam was not looking to dump him. At least not yet.

  The pair occupied a table that looked out over Green Lake Way and the park beyond it. The water, brilliant deep blue, appeared between trees and swatches of autumn foliage. Now that Thad was sitting across from his boyfriend, he wasn’t sure how to ask the questions on his mind without feeling like he was being controlling and overly nosy. But he didn’t have a chance to wonder how to begin the conversation because Sam started it for him.

  “I must apologize to you.” Sam’s beefy paws covered Thad’s hands. “Things have been very crazy lately. What with having to go out of town this weekend to see my nana and going to the airport this morning, I have hardly had time to take a piss, let alone think about the man I care most about in this whole world.”

  Sam’s description of him made Thad smile, in spite of the torrent of questions forming in the back of his mind. “Is your grandmother okay?”

  “Oh yes! She just gets lonely for us, so on Friday we all took a plane out to New York and surprised her for the weekend. You should have seen the tears. But it was a nice time.”

  “I’m glad.” Thad was wary. Again, he wasn’t sure how to broach his indignation at being kept out of the loop without sounding like a nag. “Did they tell you I stopped by here on Saturday night? I wanted to surprise you.”

  “No one mentioned it.” Sam looked toward the bar, as if signaling a lot of work still waited for him there. Wasn’t he going to explain why he didn’t at least let Thad know he’d be gone for the weekend?

  “I wish I had known you weren’t going to be here. I could have saved myself some trouble.” Thad gave Sam a weak smile.

  Sam still didn’t bite, and Thad could stand waiting around no longer, so he asked, “So why didn’t you let me know you were going to be gone? Usually I see you on the weekends.” So be it if I sound like a whiny, clingy, and possessive boyfriend. I need to know. And I don’t want this to happen again.

  Sam let go of Thad’s hands and spread his own out in front of him in a gesture of surrender. “I am sorry. I should have called. Like I say, the trip was spur-of-the-moment, and Graziela made the arrangements. We were on a plane before I knew it. I should have thought to call you.”

  Yes, you should have. Thad smarted from being forgotten. How much did he mean to Sam, anyway? But what else had he said about being at the airport this morning? Had they just gotten back today?

  “So what time did you get back?” Thad asked, expecting to hear a couple of hours ago.

  “We got home last night. I thought about calling you, but it was late.”

  “I wasn’t home anyway.” Thad felt a little cruel saying this and couldn’t deny he took pleasure in it. “But you said you were at the airport this morning….” I wonder if I’ve caught him in a lie. God, I hope not. Our relationship has been going so well.

  “I was. I was.” Sam paused, thinking. “We had a little trouble with my boy, Domenic.” Sam chewed on his lower lip. He didn’t say anything else until Thad prompted him by asking what happened.

  “I don’t want to bore you with the details.” Sam paused again. What was going on? Was he stalling to make up a plausible story? In his mind’s eye, Thad pictured Sam’s handsome son behind the b
ar, his thick stubble, craggy face, and intense eyes.

  “Bore me.”

  Sam waved him away. “It’s okay. The family just decided Domenic might be better off going back to Sicily for a while. You know?” He switched tack… and his story. “My boy got a little homesick. That was the trouble. So we put him on a plane.”

  Thad cocked his head. It was on the tip of his tongue to say “I’m not quite sure I believe you. What’s the real story?” but he held himself back. He didn’t want to pry, and it was more than obvious Sam didn’t want to talk about his son’s “troubles,” whatever they were. Before he had a chance to reconsider his decision, Sam spoke again.

  “Listen, sweetheart, I am really behind the eight ball here. That’s the correct term, right? I mean, I have a lot to do, what with being away this weekend and all. Can we get together later? Maybe you come by and have supper here tonight? I make you a big bowl of puttanesca.”

  Thad smiled on the outside but felt adrift at all Sam had said. He also felt he was being dismissed. “Okay, I’m not sure I’m flattered by your choice of dishes for me, but I can come by tonight.” That is, if I’m not fast asleep by six. Thad stood and awkwardly hugged Sam. Sam patted his back, and Thad wondered if he was looking out the window to see if they had any witnesses to their display of affection.

  “I can pick up a cue. It’s my time to leave. I think I’ll go home and take a little nap.”

  Sam smiled warmly… at last! “You rest up for me.” He winked.

  As he left the restaurant, Thad wanted to feel things had been settled, wanted to cling to Sam’s final smile and promising wink, but he was troubled by all he had learned, and hadn’t learned, in their brief exchange.

  What bothered him most of all was why they’d sent Domenic away. And why so suddenly?