by Larry Darter
A server came over. “Ready to order?” she said.
“Not yet,” I said. “We’re at the crucial bit just now.”
“Oh,” the server said, clearly puzzled. “Two more drinks?”
“That would be great,” I said.
The server smiled and went away.
“It seems so unfair,” Jackie said. “I have had none for almost two months because we never go to the clubs together anymore. Yet here you are getting it every single day while alternating between two hotties both of whom seem to rock your world in the sack.”
“So, what do you think I should do?” I said. “Come clean and tell them both about the other? Choose one, and let the other one go? Or carry on as I am?”
The server came back with our drinks. I drank the last of the merlot so she could take the glass. “Ready to order now?” the server said.
“Sure, I know what I’m having,” I said. I gave the server my order and Jackie did the same. The server went away.
Jackie sipped her beer. “I think the lies and sneaking around will catch up with you eventually. You will slip up somehow, it’s bound to happen. One of them will get wise. You know how men are, ego-driven and they always feel possessive of you when you’re screwing them. The one who gets wise will invariably search out the other guy and confront him. Lots of drama to deal with. They will both feel betrayed by you. Instead of two amazing hotties and constant sex, you will end up with nothing, back where you started, sad and alone.”
I said, “That’s a depressing take.”
“Yeah, but a realistic one.”
“I’ve known all along coming clean with them wasn’t an option,” I said. “I reckoned that would be the fastest way to lose them both. And, as said, I don’t want to choose one and stop doing it with the other. I have sincere affections for both. But, admittedly, for me, it’s mostly about the attention I’m getting and the sex. As you said, carrying on as it is isn’t a viable option either unless I’m prepared to lose them both.”
“I can imagine why you want to continue things as they are,” Jackie said. “A hard man is good to find. You’ve got two of them which is a miracle.”
We both laughed.
“But, it seems like you’re out of options,” Jackie said.
The server brought our food. While we ate, Jackie told me how her air freight business was going. I told her a little about my case, and that I hoped it would be over soon since I no longer had a paying client."
“Maybe there is a fourth option,” Jackie said.
“Lay it on me,” I said. “I’m feeling desperate.”
“Sit them both down,” Jackie said. “Explain how you feel. Make sure they both understand the boundaries. You’re only after a casual relationship right now where it’s fun for both parties. You’re not looking for or ready to commit to long-term monogamy with anyone. In fact, you want to be clear you’re free to date other people, and they are too. You don’t have to admit you’re already doing it, just that you insist on having the option. Then you continue as you are.”
“Ah, I see the logic,” I said. “Once I’d had the talk with both Mike and Nick, if one or both somehow found out I was seeing the other, they couldn’t feel I’d betrayed them. We would have already agreed we were free to date other people.”
“Exactly,” Jackie said. “Even if you got busted, they would have to admit you had been open all along that there had been no agreement for a committed, exclusive relationship. They couldn’t accuse you of cheating or doing anything wrong.”
“I’ve started that conversation with Mike, only it was intended to discourage him from developing false hopes he and I were getting back together again like it was before,” I said. “But, he told me himself he has no interest in dating anyone else as long as I’m shagging him. Nick could be an easier sell. We’ve discussed nothing close to having an exclusive relationship. For all I know, there could already be other women in his life.”
“Would you be cool with it if Nick was boinking someone else when he isn’t getting it on with you?” Jackie said.
“Sure, why not? It only seems fair. I’d not like to know about her or hear any of the gory details. I think anyone would find that more than a bit challenging. I’d worry he was making comparisons. My brain would be in overdrive with all kinds of questions. Does she have better boobs, a nicer bum? Does she have better skills in bed? Does he like doing it with her more than me? I’d go mad.”
“Yeah, I feel you,” Jackie said. “I’m sure even the most confident women wouldn’t have the confidence to deal with that.”
“Otherwise I’m sure I’d be fine with only knowing he was dating others. But, I wouldn’t want it to impact negatively on our time together. For example, if he’d had another girl over for sex the night before we were meant to see each other, he damn well better be eager and ready for a root with me.”
Jackie said, “Yeah, and he would have to be responsible about it. Transferring a nasty STD would definitely be a deal breaker.”
I laughed. “Exactly.”
We finished lunch. Jackie left for the airfield, and her two o’clock freight run to Maui. I headed to my office. I always felt better after chatting with Jackie about a problem. She had helped me define the issues I needed to sort. And, for the first time, I felt like a concrete solution to my dilemma was available. I planned to have the talk she had suggested with both Mike and Nick the next time I saw them. There was still the possibility I could end up losing at least one of them if either found out about the other. Yet I wouldn’t be the bad guy if it happened, and as importantly, I wouldn’t be made to feel I was.
Thirty
Riding back to the office I had a thought. Mike had told me earlier he didn’t believe Chambers foolish enough to store Bryce’s hijacked shipment at his house. It seemed only common sense the logical place would be a rented public storage facility. I reckoned there had to be hundreds on the island. But, if my theory was correct, wouldn’t it simply be human nature to choose one that was close rather than far from where you lived? If Chambers had rented a storage unit, it seemed likely he’d choose a place close to home. It seemed worth looking into.
The difficult bit to work out would be the name used for the rental. It was unlikely Chambers would rent one under his own name. It would be too easy to track down by the cops for example if the same theory occurred to them that had to me. Maybe Chambers might have ordered his houseman Zhang Yong to rent a storage unit. I was certain if Chambers had hijacked Austin Bryce’s collection of ancient Chinese artifacts, he would have sent Zhang Yong to do the dirty work. Given his age and wealth, I imagined Chambers would feel it beneath him to do the manual labor involved in transferring a bunch of cartons.
At the office, I switched on the computer and searched for public storage facilities “near me” using Chambers’ address on Poloke Place. I was happy to discover there were only eighteen on the list. That was a lot, but not as bad as hundreds. Checking eighteen wouldn’t be that onerous a task.
Even if Zhang Yong had hijacked the shipment and then rented a storage unit to hide the cartons in, I knew it didn’t necessarily follow he would have used his true name to rent a place. That too might be an obvious thing for the police to check. What I needed was a photo of Zhang Yong to take along with me when I visited the storage facilities. I could show the photo, ask the management if they recalled seeing him, and could try to persuade them to allow me to review the security camera video recordings to see if Zhang Yong popped up.
Since the delivery guy had picked up the shipment from Bryce’s house on Saturday afternoon, I felt certain the cartons had disappeared from the air freight terminal on either Saturday evening or sometime on Sunday. That wouldn’t be an unreasonable amount of video recordings to review.
It was after three when I’d finished compiling and prioritizing my list of public storage facilities within a reasonable distance of Chambers’ house. I printed out the list. I still had time before I had to b
e at Nick’s flat. It should be enough time to get the photograph, and I already had a plan in mind for getting it.
First, I dug my flash DSLR camera and a telephoto lens out of my bottom desk drawer. The lens would allow me to snap photos a good distance away from my subject. I felt it important Zhang Yong not be aware he was being photographed. On the off chance he worked out why someone might want a photo of him, it could spook him into moving the collection of artifacts to another location before I had the time to find where the collection was stored now.
With my camera bag slung over my shoulder, I left the office and rode to a nearby auto parts shop. I needed self-consuming waxed DOT class emergency roadside flares for my plan. As it turned out, the shop had them available in singles. I bought two for under eight bucks.
When I was at Chambers’ house with Mike days ago, when we’d arrived I had noticed a large bush in the front yard that was dead and brown. It caught my eye because the rest of the landscaping was lush and green. I reckoned Chambers hadn’t taken the time to have someone remove it.
When I arrived on Poloke Place, I cruised slowly past Chambers’ house glancing about side to side. I saw the perfect spot from which to snap photos of his front yard. There was a vacant home with a for sale sign in the yard, diagonally across the street from his place. There was a backyard privacy fence that began at the attached garage before turning and running along one side of the backyard. Next to the garage was a gate. I did a turnabout a half block down from Chamber’s house. At the vacant house, I bumped across the kerb then rode the motorbike across the lawn past the corner of the fence. There was a good spot to leave it there beneath some trees where passersby on the street couldn’t see it.
Walking around the corner to the gate, I tried the latch and found the gate unlocked. I stepped through, closed the gate, and sorted my camera equipment. I’d be able to open the gate a crack to accommodate the telephoto lens and then snap photos diagonally across the street toward the front yard of Chambers’ house. All the while the gate would conceal me from view. Now I only needed to coax my target outside. That’s where the flares came in.
I exited through the gate and crossed the street. I walked nonchalantly along the sidewalk looking around for people. I saw no one out and about. The lots were large in the neighborhood and the houses far apart. That was an advantage. Quickly, I walked across the lawn to the dead, dry bush. It was a bit larger than I’d remembered. I plucked the plastic caps off the tops of the flares. Then I struck the flammable top of one flare against the striker at the base of the other. The flare ignited, burning brightly. I lighted the second flare off the first. When both were burning nicely, I tossed them into the dead bush. The branches caught fast, flames hungrily licking the dry tinder-like vegetation.
Turning I hurried back to the gate across the street. While I moved with a purpose, I tried hard not to look like I was fleeing from the commission of the bit of mischief I was. Safely concealed again behind the gate with my lens extended through the crack I’d left open, I was ready to snap. The fire in Chambers’ front yard was already quite impressive by the time I had taken up my position. The angry orange flames that engulfed the bush lapped hungrily at the dried branches. Black smoke billowed up into the clear blue Honolulu sky. It was truly a burning bush of almost biblical proportions. The breeze was carrying smoke directly toward the front door of the house.
If took almost four minutes before I got any action. Then the front door of Chambers’ house opened. Bugger. It was Chambers himself. He took several steps out toward the burning bush and stared at it. I hadn’t come for his photo but took a few snaps. Maybe a photo of Chambers might come in handy at some point. Then he turned and stormed back into the house, leaving the door standing open. A few moments later, my target came out carrying a small red fire extinguisher. The fire was really burning now. I could hear the pops and crackles of the dry bush being consumed clear across the street. Zhang Yong advanced on the fire with the extinguisher at the ready. It was obvious when he had approached within five meters and stopped; the heat was too intense for him to go any closer. He activated the extinguisher which expelled a small, unimpressive stream of some fire extinguishing chemical that lasted only seconds and then petered out. The small extinguisher hadn’t been up to the task. Zhang Yong dropped it and hurried to the front of the house near the door. He uncoiled a garden hose, opened a hydrant and walked back toward the burning bush which he sprayed with water. For much of the time he had been battling the flames, I’d been snapping photos of Zhang Yong.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard sirens wailing. Someone must have rung the fire department. It seemed a good idea to get the hell out of Dodge before the firefighters arrived, perhaps with the cops in tow. I was sure I’d captured the images I’d been after. With Zhang Yong still focused on battling the fire which appeared still out of control, I slipped out through the gate and closed it quietly. Then I went to the corner, turned and walked back to the motorbike. I removed the thin leather gloves I’d been wearing, stowed them in the under seat compartment, and then pulled on my safety helmet. Climbing onto the motorbike, I flipped my tinted visor down. I rode across the lawn, bumped over the kerb, and then rode past Chambers’ house and down the street at a normal speed. Two minutes later, I was out of the neighborhood.
I made it back to the office a few minutes past five. I put the memory stick from the camera into a card reader attached to my computer. Then I pulled up the photos in a photo editing program. I’d been right. I’d captured plenty of great images of Zhang Yong from the front. I selected the best one and cropped it down to his face for a quality identification photo. Then I sent it to my color printer. It was bloody brilliant, just what I’d been after.
A glance at the clock told me it was past the time for me to head over to Nick’s flat. I would be a bit late. I left the photo on my desk, locked up, and then rode off toward Nick’s. On the way, I sussed out a plan in my head on how I’d tackle the eighteen public storage facilities the following morning.
When I arrived, Nick’s car wasn’t in the car park. I went to the front door and knocked anyway, but there was no response. I sat down on the steps to wait.
Thirty-One
I’d only been waiting ten minutes on the steps when Nick showed up. He had thoughtfully stopped on the way home for Thai takeaway. I reckoned he had planned ahead to avoid unnecessary breaks in the action once we got busy with the real reason for my visit.
We hurriedly ate dinner, and I had only just finished a glass of wine before we were getting our kits off at his eager insistence. Obviously, it was to be Netflix and Chill redux. Only this time with no pretense it would involve any Netflix. I was meant to live that same experience again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during a supreme moment of complete carnal knowledge.
Nick was every bit as eager and enthusiastic a lover as Mike, only more patient, and tender. It was clear he was every bit as concerned about my pleasure as his own. Mike was more insistent and forceful, but I liked having it that way too. That’s why I was resistant to settling for one and giving up the other. They were both attractive, affectionate, and virile men who had the same capacity to satisfy thoroughly my every fleshly yearning, only they each had their own unique methods of accomplishing it.
During the surprisingly brief recovery periods Nick required between long stints of delicious lovemaking, he always found inventive yummy ways to entertain me until he was ready for another go. Those techniques always left me panting with renewed urgent desire, desperately wanting more.
We’d made love three times before we fell asleep in each other’s arms. And, of course, we observed what had become our morning ritual as soon as we woke up the next morning before leaving the bed.
We showered, dressed, and had a coffee. Then after Nick had his fill of passionate kisses and farewell gropes of various parts of my anatomy, we said goodbye. Nick left for work, and I left for the office, feeling a bit knackered but a happy
and supremely satisfied woman.
The only fly in the ointment was it was Tuesday, and I had my regular two o’clock appointment with Dr. Nix to attend. That still left me about five hours I could use to make a start on the eighteen public storage facilities I intended to visit. I’d knock off as many as possible before my therapy session, and then a few more afterward. At worst, I reckoned I could get to them all before noon tomorrow.
Thanks to the topography of Oahu, the facilities were all roughly in a straight line, with a few of them clustered close together at several spots. That made it easy to start at one end of the line and then to proceed in an orderly fashion to the other. I planned to only show the photograph and ask if the attendants recognized Zhang Yong during my first go round. I would not bother with the security camera video recordings unless someone I talked to recognized him from the photo first. If no one did, then working backward, I’d start a second round at the far end of the imaginary line, backtrack, and ask the management at each facility to review their video recordings then.
The first four stops had taken far less of my time than expected but had already left me feeling a bit discouraged. Of the four, there had been only two attendants who had been on duty the previous weekend. None of the four said they recognized Zhang Yong. Since he had a very recognizable face, I was certain none of them had seen him. Also, at two of the places, I was flatly told I’d not get access to their security camera video recordings if I returned later because I wasn’t a cop. One man told me I’d have to get permission from the owner to view their video recordings. Only one guy, a man about my age said he’d let me look at the recordings if I came back, but I could tell he fancied me and hoped doing me a favor might lead to a date. He wasn’t bad looking, but sadly I already had all the action in the romance department I could handle at the moment, thank you. Secretly, I hoped it wouldn’t turn out necessary to return there since it would only lead to disappointment for the sad guy.