Someone Like You

by Timothy J Beck

  “If you could have it cleaned and pressed before you return it to me, I’d be most obliged,” Cart Man said.

  17

  Tall, Mark, and Handsome

  Derek tossed his crumpled Kleenexes into the wastebasket; the Marc Jacobs cologne had been his undoing. He’d staggered home from work mentally drained and physically exhausted. Natasha had dogged him all day, making it impossible for him to enjoy his favorite part of the job, the customers, with her incessant demands on him to inventory and move stock or change displays.

  Then she’d mystified him by asking him to come to her desk in the stockroom at the end of his shift. He’d feared that she was about to fire him, but she’d done something more frightening. When he walked up, she bared her teeth in an expression approximating a smile.

  “Sit down, Derek. At some point during every employee’s first three months, I like to have a little chat. Are you happy in your position at Drayden’s?” While Derek babbled what he knew was a feeble answer, he’d have sworn she wasn’t listening. He was sure of it when she said, “Excellent. Often, a new employee benefits from mentoring by a more experienced employee. Do you have someone like that here at Drayden’s?”

  “No,” he said, determined to quit on the spot if she offered to mentor him.

  “You don’t have a friend in management? Or Human Resources? Perhaps the person who referred you for your job?”

  “No one referred me,” Derek said. “I just filled out an application, got called for an interview with some people in HR, and received my job offer.”

  Natasha’s smile grew more fixed, and her voice sounded almost sinister when she said, “Did you use someone at Drayden’s as a reference?”

  “No,” Derek said. “I didn’t know anyone who worked here.”

  “That will be all,” she said abruptly, all semblance of a smile gone. “You may clock out.”

  All he’d wanted was the sanctity of his apartment and an endless hot shower. He paused long enough to ascertain that the phone’s message light wasn’t blinking, which meant that Hunter hadn’t called. Rather than further torture himself by checking his e-mail, he started shedding clothes while he walked to the bathroom. After twenty minutes of being pummeled by near-scalding water, he felt almost human again. Then, as he was getting out of the shower, his elbow jostled a bottle, which shattered on the tile floor. He squatted to pick up shards of glass, and the next thing he knew he was sitting on the thick white bathmat and crying, immersed in memories of Hunter and the smell of Marc Jacobs, Hunter’s signature scent.

  He missed his boyfriend. He missed telling his daily stories to Hunter and hearing Hunter’s version of things that went on at the Congreve. Although Hunter didn’t talk much about his own job, he kept up with the drama in some of his employees’ lives, plus there was never a shortage of unusual hotel guests to discuss.

  Derek missed other things, too. The times he’d order lavish room service breakfasts after Hunter left to go riding, except Hunter would unexpectedly return, taking Derek back to bed, sharing breakfast with him after they made love. Unexpectedly catching sight of Hunter in the hotel lobby, his attitude as crisp and businesslike as his suit as he dealt with some aspect of hotel business. Derek would watch him and think, He’s mine. Later, I’ll be there when he takes that suit off, and I can do anything I want with the body underneath it.

  He missed making love. Or having any sex at all, for that matter. And it hadn’t helped that he’d been so attracted to Christian and Davii only to have it come to nothing physically. After months of self-gratification, Derek wanted another body in the bed next to him. He was used to being teased and touched, nuzzled and held.

  He even missed Hunter’s cigarette smoke. That smell, along with the Marc Jacobs cologne, kept him aware of Hunter’s daily presence as the man in his life. It was the first thing he smelled in the morning and the last thing he smelled at night. It clung to his pillow and sometimes to his own clothes, and made him feel that Hunter was always near. Now all he felt was absence. Which would have been slightly more bearable if he knew Hunter felt the same way, and was missing Derek’s scent, or the sound of his voice, or just his breathing presence in the room.

  He threw the broken bottle on top of the soggy Kleenexes, made a halfhearted attempt to tame his cowlicks, and got dressed. Then he turned on the computer, slumping in his chair when there was nothing from Hunter. He answered some other e-mails without enthusiasm, then decided he had enough energy to indulge himself in an evening of people watching. It always made him feel better, and he’d undoubtedly see something that he could turn into a story with which to entertain his online friends rather than boring them with banal e-mails.

  The Congreve was hosting some kind of software convention, which had evidently broken up not long before Derek went downstairs. The restaurant was busy and noisy, and Marlon, the maître d’, tucked him into the kind of table that he knew Derek liked. It was a little out of the way and provided a good view of the room. The book in front of Derek was mostly a prop, because he was really reading the faces and actions of the people around him. They seemed energetic and happy. He didn’t know if they were discussing software or more personal things, but the room was full of excited conversation punctuated by laughter. His spirits lifted at the sight of people enjoying themselves and one another.

  When he was little, his mother’s favorite TV show had been The Love Boat. Derek envisioned the diners around him on a cruise together. The woman fiddling with her hair was having an unexpected reunion with a man a few years older; Derek titled their story “Polly and Mr. Fincher.” Mr. Fincher had been the high school history teacher that Polly had a crush on. Now both were divorced, and Polly hoped he no longer saw her as the gawky kid with braces who watched him from the fourth row.

  His eyes moved on to two men in earnest conversation, setting up their story as “Betrayal.” Barclay looked so serious because his business partner, William, was telling him that he’d lost all their company savings at the racetrack. The odd thing was, Barclay had dreaded this cruise because he’d intended to tell William about his affair with Mrs. William. Now he wasn’t sure whether to confess and put them on equal footing or express his outrage over the money.

  An older couple, smiling as they tapped their glasses together, became part of “’Til Death Do Us Part.” When Larry had been diagnosed with a terminal illness, his wife, Rachel, booked them on the cruise for a last hurrah. The day before they left home, Larry got a call from his doctor explaining that he’d been given the wrong test results. Even though Larry was fine, he didn’t want to tell Rachel, because this was the nicest she’d been to him in more than thirty years of marriage.

  Derek played out their stories until he finished dinner, then he got another cup of coffee, content to stay where he was. He was discreetly checking out other diners’ desserts, trying to decide whether or not to order one, when he realized that a man a few tables away was watching him with an amused look. He didn’t break his gaze even when he saw Derek checking him out. He was a few years older than Derek, with a closely shaved head and a five o’clock shadow that matched his rumpled suit. He was wearing a red tie, but it had been loosened as if to indicate that this was the end of a long day instead of a break between meetings.

  Derek dropped his eyes to his book for a few seconds, fantasizing about why the man was at the hotel. He didn’t seem to be part of the software group; maybe he’d just flown in and had some kind of business meeting the next day. Maybe he was bored and lonely, hoping for the diversion of a little flirtation.

  He looked over to see if Red Tie was still watching him, but found he was busy taking care of his check. Red Tie didn’t glance at Derek again before leaving the restaurant. Derek sighed, thinking it was probably for the best. After Christian, he’d promised to stop assuming that handsome men who seemed to be flirting with him were gay. Apparently, he’d once again misjudged his man. Red Tie was undoubtedly the married father of two. He probably resented hav
ing business out of town. He’d been hoping to see his kids’ soccer game, play poker with the guys, or do any of those other things straight guys did and Derek knew nothing about.

  Derek decided against dessert, signed the check so it could be written off to Hunter, and left his usual generous tip for the waiter. Good service was among the Congreve’s claims to fame, but he was sure it didn’t hurt to be Hunter’s boyfriend. He supposed if Hunter dumped him, he’d find out how the staff really felt about him. Then again, if he and Hunter broke up, there was nothing at the Congreve he’d be able to afford.

  He picked up a copy of the Terre Haute Times, one of the Barrister papers, and settled in, in the lobby. As he was turning a page, he noticed that Red Tie was also sitting in the lobby, concentrating on what looked like business papers. When Red Tie glanced around, Derek retreated behind his paper. He got interested in a story about local politics, and when he looked again, Red Tie was gone.

  He watched a few other people come and go until he realized that the employees behind the desk were watching him. He didn’t want to give them any reason to gossip, so he finally wandered into the Aurora, wishing Davii was still around. A little harmless flirting would be great, and Davii always made him feel better.

  It wasn’t one of Sheree’s nights to perform, so he didn’t even have the assurance of good conversation to look forward to. The bartender, Steve, was busy mixing drinks at the far end of the bar, and Derek took the only empty stool without a drink in front of it and waited patiently for Steve to get to him. He noticed Hunter’s assistant, Riley, leaving the bar with a couple who were probably important hotel guests. A few minutes later, his neighbor returned from the restroom and proved to be Red Tie.

  He grinned at Derek, shook his head as he sat down, and said, “Are you following me?”

  “Not intentionally,” Derek said.

  “Damn,” Red Tie said. “I’m Mark. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Derek. But I don’t pay for my drinks here.”

  “In that case, I’ll let you buy me one,” Mark said. He had a beautiful smile.

  Derek glanced at Steve, who nodded and, after giving Derek his usual cosmopolitan, put a fresh beer in front of Mark.

  “Cheap date,” Derek said, looking at the bottle.

  “Especially when you don’t have to pay,” Mark chided. “Too bad I’m low maintenance.”

  “Low maintenance is good,” Derek said.

  “I can be more demanding elsewhere,” Mark said. He waited until Steve was out of earshot and said, “Like in room 1223. I’m guessing we should leave separately.”

  “I like a smart man,” Derek said. He slid off his stool and shook Mark’s hand as if they were brief acquaintances saying good-bye. By the time he got to the elevator, he was wondering if he’d lost his mind. The man was a guest in Hunter’s hotel. Even if leaving separately fooled Steve or anyone else who noticed, there were security cameras on every floor. But as he pressed the button for twelve, he realized he didn’t care. At least he wouldn’t be spending another night alone.

  Mark didn’t make him wait long, smiling again as he slid his card key in and pushed the door open. “Welcome to my home for the night. Take anything you want from the minibar.”

  Derek shook his head and reached over to finish unknotting Mark’s tie. By the time they made it to the bed, they were both undressed. When Mark dug into a bag next to the bed and brought out condoms and lube, Derek said, “Nothing like a Boy Scout.”

  “I’m gay; I can’t be a Boy Scout. I’m just a very, very lucky man tonight.”

  Derek decided he was the lucky one. Not only was Mark sexy, he was sensual, exploring every inch of Derek to find out what pleased him. Derek returned the favor, thrilled to experience new skin, new scent, and new taste. It was like stumbling into a banquet after famine. Derek wanted some of everything.

  Even better was that when the two of them were finally sated, Mark didn’t drop any hints about Derek leaving. They lay on the bed together, occasionally exploring each other with their hands, and Derek said, “You have incredible skin. It feels so good.” When Mark laughed, he asked, “What?”

  “Have you ever noticed that when you’re lying in bed with a man, thinking something nice about him, he says the same thing about you? Because I was just thinking how good your skin feels against mine. How good it feels having you next to me in general. Can you stay?”

  Since he was off the next day, Derek nodded. Mark wrapped his arms around him, settling them into a spooning position, with Derek facing out. It was so comforting to be held…

  The next thing he knew, Mark was nudging him awake. Lost somewhere between his memories of the night before and his fantasy about Mark’s life, Derek asked, “Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

  “That was yesterday,” Mark said. “I fly out at two. But I don’t have to check out—”

  “Until noon,” Derek said, knowing that all too well.

  When he stretched, trying to feel more awake, Mark pushed the sheets down to their hips. First he kissed him, then he moved his mouth down Derek’s body. Derek’s back arched with pleasure, but Mark didn’t let things get too far before he came back for another kiss.

  “Will I make you late for class?” he asked.

  “I’m not a student,” Derek said. “I work here. At the mall, I mean.”

  “I don’t know why I thought you were in college,” Mark said. “I was having a little fantasy of you in a frat house.”

  “I live at the mall, too,” Derek said, shivering as Mark traced his ear with his tongue.

  Mark pulled away and said, “Really? I’m meeting a real live Mall Mole?”

  Derek laughed and said, “I read that article, too. I guess I am, although I do leave the mall and see sunlight occasionally.”

  “You must have a million stories, considering all the people who pass through here,” Mark said.

  “Something like that,” Derek said. Hoping to cut off the conversation, he dove for Mark under the covers.

  “Come on,” Mark finally said, dragging him from the bed. “We have to fuck in my fantastic bathroom. It’s part of the Congreve experience.”

  It was hot to stare at their reflection in the mirror, and the carnelian-colored granite counters, along with the soft lighting and copper fixtures, made their skin glow. If Derek wasn’t already familiar with this “Congreve experience,” he might have enjoyed it even more. He felt better when they got into the glass-walled shower and lathered each other up, as if some of his guilt was washing down the drain.

  Reality had hit, and again he wondered if he’d lost his mind. If the mall was like its own little city, the hotel was a neighborhood in which everyone gossiped. Juanita was going to know neither bed in his apartment had been slept in. Steve had seen them make their connection in the Aurora. There was no way of knowing what the desk clerks had noticed or what hotel security might have seen. At least Riley had left the Aurora before Derek did.

  Later, when they were dressed, Mark said, “I travel to Indiana a few times a year. Can I call you?” He noticed Derek’s hesitation and said, “Never mind. I’ve never been very good at this trick stuff.”

  “You have a boyfriend,” Derek surmised.

  “And I gathered last night that you do, as well.”

  “Sort of. Does yours know?”

  “Yeah. It’s a rare thing, but he knows. Yours?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never—”

  “Damn,” Mark said, looking contrite. “I hope I didn’t just fuck up a relationship.”

  “I had a great night. A great morning. No problem.”

  Later, in his own room, grateful that Juanita had already come and gone, Derek wondered if they should have traded numbers. Mark had been nice. But what would they talk about? He knew nothing about him. They’d exchanged less details with each other than body fluids. In fact, their personal histories were as safe as the sex.

  And if Hunter asked questions…

&n
bsp; He rolled his eyes. Hunter would never exert any effort to find out what Derek did while he was away. Nor would anyone tell him. That had been some kind of paranoid delusion.

  At least I didn’t tell Mark stories in bed, Derek thought.

  But he’d still cheated on Hunter. The sad thing was, it didn’t matter whether it was the first time or the last time. Derek was the only one who would ever regret it; Hunter wouldn’t care.

  18

  Smells Like Teen Spirit

  Christian wasn’t aware of the time until a persistent whispering sound made him look up from the notes he was writing at his table in the Brew Moon Café. He located the source of the noise—four teenaged girls in school uniforms sitting a few tables away. He had a fleeting concern about whether it was advisable for teenagers to be addicted to caffeine, then nearly spit out his own coffee upon finding it stone cold. He glanced at his watch and realized he’d been taking up space at the café for nearly two hours.

  He’d met with Emily-Anne Barrister and Hershel Wicks, Drayden’s store manager, at the department store before it opened that morning. The event that Christian was helping Emily-Anne plan, the Big Bang Benefit for Breast Cancer, would be hosted by the planetarium. Costs had to be offset, so he and Emily-Anne had intended to pitch ideas to Hershel in hopes of getting corporate sponsorship from Drayden’s.

  The meeting had not begun on a high note. The Barrister dogs were in tow, and Jitters had nervously popped out what Emily-Anne euphemistically called a Tootsie Roll. Christian had grabbed a napkin, scooped it up, and tied it in a plastic bag while talking nonstop to keep Hershel’s attention focused on his words rather than on what he was doing. Somehow in the confusion, Christian had ended up promising to arrange not only the catering for the event, but also the entertainment.