Secrets and Charms

by Lou Harper

  “How old are you?” he asked Olly as they sat down.

  “Twenty-two,” Olly replied.

  “Has either of you acted in porn before? Xtube?”

  Rich took over. “Mr.…Brian, we’re here on another matter.” Rich glanced to Olly, who already had his phone out. “Are you familiar with this video?”

  Olly held the phone out as the clip fragment played.

  Brian took it and played the thing again. “Yeah, I recognize it. That’s Hairy Harry, poor bastard. Best sound man I ever had. It was his last shoot.” He looked up, eyes narrowed. “How did you get this?”

  Rich knew he had to proceed carefully and not bring his sister’s name up. “Someone tried to sell us this movie.”

  “That makes no sense. We never released it.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “The production was cursed from the start. Equipment troubles, actors bailing, a disaster from start to finish. We only shot a scene and a half when Harry had a heart attack right there on the set. He was rushed to the hospital and later had triple bypass surgery. Now he lives in Riverside with his sister. Retired.” He shook his head. “By the time we found a new sound guy, one of the girls dropped out, and we had to replace her too. Finally finished the shoot, but before we even could edit the film together, we found out the new girl, Kandy Hart, was only seventeen. Fuck me sideways with a hockey stick. She looked twenty-five and had the driver’s license to prove it. How was I supposed to know it was her sister’s?” Brian scowled. “Goddamn mess. But it was a sign, I knew it then. I haven’t tried to shoot another lesbian flick since. It was a bad idea to begin with. Totally different audience. I’ve stuck to cocks ever since. Stick to what you know, right?” He handed the phone back to Olly. “Who could’ve—” Brian’s face turned puce, and he slammed his hand on his desk. “Son of a bitch! Jimmy. I’m gonna kill the motherfucker!”

  “Jimmy?”

  “James Boyd. He was an intern till I fired his thieving ass. His job was to convert our older movies that we’d shot on film to digital. So he had full access to the archives.”

  “You have archives,” Rich said, surprised.

  Brian took affront. “Why wouldn’t we? Only the Library of Congress allowed to have them?”

  Rich backpedaled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. Why did you fire Jimmy?”

  “For stealing. Small stuff started disappearing, then I caught him trying to walk away with a camera. I shouldn’t have taken him on in the first place, but he gave this sob story about not having the money to finish film school. I have a soft heart, unfortunately. Goes with a hard cock.” He winked.

  Rich, who’d felt hot under the collar ever since they’d entered, thought he might spontaneously combust. He took a deep breath. “Do you have an address for this Jimmy?”

  Brian leaned back in his chair and scrutinized Rich and Olly—but mostly Rich—through narrowed eyes. “Who are you, and what do you want it for? No, wait. I don’t want to know.” He picked up the phone. “Linda, you got that little bastard Jimmy Boyd’s address? Yes, I’ll wait.” He pulled out a notepad and picked up a pen. A moment later, he scribbled an address on the paper and hung up. “Here,” he said, ripping the page out and handing it to Rich. “I don’t know how he pissed you off, but when you find him, break his other kneecap for me.”

  They thanked him and got up to leave, but he called after them. “Hey, and if you change your mind about acting, you know where to find me. I could always use a ginger.”

  Rich couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He could hear Olly quietly chuckling.

  “You watch porn?” Rich asked in the car. He turned the AC on full blast.

  Olly pulled something out of his pocket, leaned across Rich and stuffed it into the glove box. Rich saw a flash of red. “Sure. Don’t you?” He took out his phone and entered Jimmy Boyd’s address into a GPS map app.

  “Not really. Especially not gay porn.”

  “Your loss.” Olly looked up. “This isn’t far, just over in Glendale. We could drive over there right now.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  After about twenty minutes of navigating on surface streets, Olly pulled into a tiny residential pocket between warehouses, office buildings and the freeway. He pointed at a brand-new construction on the main road. “This whole neighborhood is Disney, except for the DreamWorks campus down the road.”

  “You know this stuff.”

  “Used to date a guy who worked for the rat. It didn’t work out. This is it.” Olly pointed at a squat house. An old orange Chevy Camaro, not in the best shape, was parked in front, so Olly pulled over farther down the street, and they walked back.

  A forty-something woman in a kimono opened the door. Her hair was blonde with dark roots. She eyed them with the wariness people save for Jehovah’s Witnesses. “Yes?” The racket of a television filtered through from behind her.

  Rich gave her a wide smile. “Hi. We’re looking for Jimmy. We’re old friends.”

  Her look hardened. “My son’s not here.”

  “Can you tell us where we can find him? It’s kinda urgent.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Leave your names, and I’ll tell him you were looking for him.” The murmur of the television changed, as if someone switched the channels.

  Rich didn’t feel like telling her his name. “We’ll come back later. You know what time he’ll be home?”

  She shrugged again. “Jimmy comes and goes as he pleases.” She stepped back into the house and closed the door.

  There was nothing to do but get back into the car. “I bet she was lying,” Olly said.

  Rich thought so too. “Yup. Drive around the block and park over there around the corner.” He pointed at a spot that would give them a good view of the house without making them conspicuous.

  Olly did as he was told and parked the little car under the shade of an old tree. For minutes, the only thing to see was a pair of crows hopping on the road, picking at a piece of garbage by the curb.

  The guy who finally came out of the house was tall, twenty-something, with a blond buzz cut and a tattoo all around his neck. He got into the Camaro, and a second later, the stereo started blasting rap, loud enough to rattle the windows on the whole block.

  Olly put his hand on the ignition. “That must be Jimmy.”

  “Not yet,” Rich said. Jimmy pulled off the curb. “Now go, but follow him from a distance.”

  “I know. I’ve seen the movies.” Olly started up the car and puttered down the street.

  “Don’t lose him,” Rich fretted.

  “Don’t worry, he’s not exactly subtle. I could follow him with my eyes closed by sound alone. Jimmy is a flashy guy, isn’t he? The neck tattoo is so overkill.”

  All this talk of tattoos drove Rich’s thoughts to another direction. “The guy who did yours, what was he like?” he asked casually.

  Olly seemed eager to fulfill Rich’s curiosity. “Wade? Well, let’s see… Ink all over, of course. Average build, shaved head but a full beard. His cock had a slight curve and leaned to the left. His left.”

  It was more than Rich bargained for. “Ugh! I didn’t need to hear that.”

  “You asked.”

  “Not about his dick.” Rich realized with horror that the tattooed guy with his left-leaning cock had just joined his fantasy of Olly. A fantasy he shouldn’t have had in the first place.

  Olly chattered on, oblivious. “It’s funny how some penises don’t match their owners. I knew a guy who was five-two but hung like a horse. Seriously, it was scary. I felt sorry for him—I wouldn’t let him anywhere close to me with that thing. And he probably passed out when he got an erection from all the blood rushing there.”

  Rich didn’t need any more cocks invading his imagination. He said nothing, hoping Olly would get off the subject. No such luck.

  “Do you have a picture of yours? You know, on your phone?” Olly asked.

  “No!” Rich whipped his head and stared at O
lly in disbelief.

  Olly returned his gaze with an expression of innocence. “I do. Wanna see?”

  “No!” Rich protested, but it was a lie. “Could we please not talk about genitals? And keep your eyes on the road.”

  “Okay, no cock will pass these lips,” Olly replied, trying to keep a straight face, but his dimples were showing.

  Rich groaned and looked away.

  They drove toward the hills, and the higher they went, the nicer the neighborhoods got. Soon they passed the warehouses and mini-malls and were making their way through narrow, winding streets. Olly had to drop quite far back, and after a turn, it seemed they might have lost their target. But then Rich spotted the Camaro parked in front of a house painted in sunflower yellow. “There it is.” He pointed.

  Olly drove past slowly, and they just caught sight of the door closing. Olly drove to the end of the street, where he turned around. There was a perfect spot, just big enough for Olly’s car, halfway down the block, to keep an eye on the house. As Olly turned off the engine, his face was full of furrows. “The car in the driveway.”

  Rich looked and saw a silver SUV. “Yeah?”

  “I’ve seen it before. On Friday in front of your house. The photographer.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Olly nodded. “Positive. Dent on the bumper, right next to the AAA sticker.”

  “Son of a bitch! I’m gonna wring his neck.” Rich reached to undo his seat belt.

  Olly laid his hand on Rich’s arm. “No, wait. Let me think.”

  “What is there to think about? One asshole stole the video of my sister, and the other asshole left the blackmail letter.”

  “Yeah, but I’d like to know who this second guy is.” Olly took his phone out and started furiously typing. “I’m sure there’s a way to find out the name from the address. There must be a website for this stuff.”

  While Olly was picking away at his phone, the door of the house opened, and Jimmy came out.

  Rich watched Jimmy speed away and couldn’t hold his temper any longer. “Fuck this shit.” He jumped out of the car and marched up to the house.

  The man answering Rich’s banging was older, late forties, early fifties. He was shorter too, and balding. “Jimmy, what—” The words stuck in his throat at the sight of Rich. His eyes got big, and Rich saw recognition in them.

  Rich lifted a hand, his index finger pointing into the man’s face. “Listen, motherfucker, you stay away from my sister, or I’ll rip your lungs out and feed them to you.”

  The man tried to take a step back, but Rich grabbed his shirt and yanked him through the doorway. “Who are you? What do you want? I don’t understand,” he squealed.

  Rich leaned into the man’s face and growled, “If you come as close as a mile to my sister, I’ll make you sorry you were ever born.”

  “Let me go! I’ll call the police!” the man squeaked.

  “Sure, go ahead. I bet they’d love to know what you and Jimmy Boyd are up to.” Rich was bluffing—he didn’t want the cops involved any more than this bozo did—but it worked. The man turned paper white.

  “What’s going on? Mr. Kane?” An old woman stood at the porch of the next house, glaring at them.

  At the same time, Olly clasped Rich’s arm and tugged. “Rich, c’mon, let’s go.”

  Rich let go of the man, who put on a fake smile and waved at the neighbor. “Nothing to worry about, Mrs. Peplinsky. Just a misunderstanding.”

  Rich shot one last murderous look at the guy and let Olly drag him away.

  “Sheesh, Rich, way to go Rambo. Do you always go off half-cocked?” Olly griped, driving down the hill.

  “I was fully cocked, I can assure you,” Rich retorted.

  “I thought we agreed not to talk about cocks.”

  “You started it.”

  Olly huffed. “My point is, the guy still has a copy of the video clip, and you getting up into his face didn’t help. He could cause a lot of trouble if he wants to.”

  “I’ll break his face if he does.” Rich clenched his fist and imagined punching the guy right on the kisser. It felt red-hot good to find a focus for his anger at last.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, could you dial back the he-man shit for a minute? Unless you enjoy being a walking, talking cliché.”

  Rich didn’t appreciate being told off, and it took an effort not to say something he’d regret later. He took deep breaths and stared out the window. They rolled past malls, car dealerships, fast-food joints and stucco mini-malls that all looked the same. Compared to Chicago, LA, or at least this part of it, was an architectural wasteland. Was he homesick? No, definitely not, but he was missing something. “All right. What would you do?” he asked calmly.

  Olly jumped on the question. “Well, first of all, we need to learn more about this guy. The neighbor called him Kane, and we know his address. You can find out a lot about a person from public records.”

  “Then what?”

  “Depends what we find. Know thy enemy.”

  Rich nodded. “Sun Tzu.”

  “Huh?” Olly gave Rich a sideways glance of bafflement.

  “Art of War.”

  “HBO. Fangs. You know, the show your sister’s on? Do you ever watch it?”

  “No. I prefer not seeing my sister naked.”

  “Oh.” The expression on Olly’s face suggested he had no problem seeing anyone naked. Probably because of his upbringing. “Well, anyway, the show’s centered around a pack of werewolves living in a small town in Texas. Of course, the regular citizens don’t know. In season two, a stranger arrives and opens a strip club. Rafael, the alpha werewolf, sends one of the girls from the pack to work at the club, and she discovers the new guy’s a vampire. What follows is a lot of sex and gore. It was the season where Sandy first appeared.” Olly seemed ready to recap the entire series if Rich so wished.

  Rich didn’t. “Uh-huh. And how’s this useful to us?”

  “It illustrates my point. You need to learn what you’re dealing with before you go charging around like a mad dog. Or werewolf.”

  “Okay. You go learn. I have a home renovation to finish.”

  “Need help?”

  “It’ll be easier without you being underfoot.” Rich knew right away he’d said the wrong thing again, and Olly’s silence confirmed it—it was drowning out the traffic noise. Rich spent the rest of the drive trying to decide if he should be relieved to have Olly disgruntled and out of his hair for a while at least, or try to make things right. Guilt won out.

  As they turned onto their street, he said, “Sorry. It came out wrong. What I meant…” What he meant was that Olly was a constant distraction—his mind kept wandering in the wrong direction with Olly around. Like right then, watching Olly’s profile, the curve of the jaw, the shell of an ear between blond locks, and the smooth skin—did Olly even shave? Didn’t down below. The image of Olly showing him the tattoo flashed into Rich’s memory. Case in point. “I work better alone.”

  Olly didn’t even look in Rich’s direction. “Whatever.” He pulled up in front of the house and kept the engine running.

  There was absolutely no reason for the heaviness in the pit of his stomach, Rich told himself as he slammed the car door shut behind him. Before Olly could leave him in the dust, Sandy stumbled out of the house, spilling bags, the cooler and a beach umbrella over the lawn. Rich jumped to help her gather them back up, and, of course, Olly was there too a second later.

  “Where have you two been running off at the crack of dawn?” she asked, looking from one to another.

  “Just driving around,” Olly rushed to reply. His voice was an octave too high, his cheeks flushed, and he was looking everywhere but at Sandy. Olly couldn’t lie to save his life, Rich realized.

  “I asked Olly to show me around so I won’t get lost if I go for a ride,” Rich lied with far more expertise.

  Sandy wasn’t so easily fooled, though. “You look guilty again.” She shrugged and opened the trunk of her car.
“Well, it’s your business. Put those in there.”

  “Where are you going?” Rich asked, arranging the bags and things in the trunk.

  She grinned from ear to ear. “I have a hot date. In Santa Barbara. Don’t wait up, I don’t plan to be back till late tomorrow.” She hopped behind the wheel of the red mini and backed out of the driveway. “You’re in charge, Richard. Olly, don’t let him push you around,” she shouted out the window before driving away.

  “A date with whom?” Rich wondered out loud.

  Olly frowned as his gaze followed the mini. “No clue. Honestly, I’m hurt. She hasn’t told me a word of a new beau.”

  Rich seized the hint of camaraderie in the air. “Women. Nothing but trouble.”

  Olly turned his gaze to Rich. “What did you mean go for a ride?” he asked after a moment of contemplation.

  Suddenly invigorated, Rich made a follow-me gesture with his head. “I’ll show you.” He led Olly through the house, out into the backyard and into the garage. There, behind the still unfinished sideboard, hid his pride and joy, covered in blue tarp.

  “I wondered about that,” Olly said as Rich took hold of the tarp.

  Rich yanked it off. “Ta-da!” The bike was beautiful, sleek and sexy like a jungle predator. “Meet Shadow.”

  “You named your bike?”

  “Well, it’s a Honda Shadow Phantom.”

  “I see.” Olly brushed his fingers over the black leather seat and black chrome. His eyes caught the light of the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling when he turned to Rich. “I would’ve figured you for the monster-pickup-truck type. This is butch on a whole different level. More fun, less self-compensation.”

  Rich ignored the last bit because he didn’t want another story about dick sizes. “Have you ever ridden on a bike?”

  “Nah.”

  “I’ll take you out for a spin.” Rich regretted saying it at once, but it was too late to take it back.