Puzzle Me This

by Eli Easton

  Then again, there were more things in life than finding his secret admirer.

  An hour later, Luke found himself giggling his way up the stairs to his apartment with “James” in tow. The sex was fine, if perfunctory. The lonely stillness of his apartment after James left was depressing. It made Luke realize how unlikely it was that he’d attracted the attention of anyone with substance at Chumley’s. There were too many fishermen there and too much bait for any one small fry to make an impression, let alone an impression deep enough to inspire crossword puzzles.

  Enigma 3, Luke 0.

  Saturday and Sunday Luke did the crosswords by A Ecrivain with anticipation, but he found no secret message. Then Monday’s edition came.

  1 across – Gospel writer _ _ _ _

  10 across – RV date? _ _ _ _ _ _

  18 down – Fish Fri _ _ _ _ _ _

  19 across – Time for bed _ _ _ _ _

  20 across – He has less fun _ _ _ _ _ _

  35 down – Two-wheeler _ _ _ _ _

  36 across – A lonely feeling _ _ _

  [Luke hookup Friday night brunet biker sad]

  Luke stared at the paper. Suddenly the game wasn’t funny anymore. He’d been watched—or at least seen—the night he brought James home. That was both creepy and made him feel guilty, like he’d cheated on someone and been caught. But he hadn’t even met A. Ecrivain yet!

  Hello! If you want me to be monogamous, maybe consider introducing yourself in person, Shakespeare.

  But despite the fact that Luke was absolutely right and had no reason whatsoever to feel guilty, that word, sad, lingered and unnerved him.

  Luke put the puzzle away and went to work, answering Monday morning emails and putting together a scene description he’d promised to deliver by noon. But the crossword puzzle would float to his mind every so often and bring with it an uneasy feeling. He told himself he didn’t care. But he did. The lure of the puzzle had been great, the cleverness of it. And the fact that someone would do this for him and publish it in a national paper was so, well, flattering.

  It had made him feel anticipation and… hope. Hope?

  Yes, hope.

  And now he’d fucked it up.

  Chapter 4

  Luke Answers

  Luke was not surprised when Tuesday’s and Wednesday’s papers held no message. But by the time he’d finished the Sunday crossword and found nothing in it, Luke knew he’d been abandoned. It had been over a week since his last “special crossword.” He’d driven off his admirer with his floozy ways.

  And goddamn it. That was not going to work for him at all.

  On Monday morning Luke called the Examiner and asked for the editor of the Entertainment section. He was connected to a Paul Reardon.

  “Hi. My name is Luke Schumaker. I’m trying to reach the person who designs your crossword puzzles, A. Ecrivain.”

  “Oh? And why is that?” Reardon asked.

  If Luke said Because they leave hidden messages for me, he’d sound like an utter loon.

  “Um. I’m a game designer for City Shark Games, and I thought that maybe he or she would be interested in doing some work for us.” It was a lie, but Luke could probably talk his boss into including a crossword somewhere in Saints and Sinners if it meant talking to A. Ecrivain.

  “I can’t give out that information. But send me an email, and I’ll forward it to him. Or you can send a letter to the paper to the attention of ‘A. Ecrivain.’ Those get sent to him unopened. He often gets fan mail and reader suggestions.”

  Him. The crossword puzzle designer was a him. Luke felt a flush of hope again. Hormones were a damned nuisance.

  “Awesome. Thanks,” Luke said. “I’ll send a letter.”

  It would have to be a letter, too, not an email. Because Paul Reardon would probably read an email. Which meant Luke would have to be patient waiting for a response.

  In a way, it felt right. A. Ecrivain had reached out to him through an old-fashioned pencil puzzle. So Luke could put pen to paper to reply.

  He contemplated what to write. What if crossword puzzle man was really scary or hideous? The secret messages hadn’t been blatantly flirtatious, but they weren’t not either. Finally Luke went with this:

  “Dear A.,

  I don’t know you, but your puzzles have me dead curious. In fact, you’ve triggered the dreaded obsessive gamer in my soul. Can we meet for coffee? How about Diggits, 6 pm on Wed. the 20th?

  Luke Schumaker”

  Neutral ground and a tone that implied nothing beyond inquisitiveness. Filled with a heady anticipation, Luke mailed it.

  * * *

  Alex Shaw read over the letter a half dozen times. It didn’t take long since it was so short. But he could still hardly believe it. Luke had seen his crossword puzzle messages. And he’d gone to the trouble to write back and find out how to get it to his editor at the Examiner.

  “Dear A.,

  I don’t know you, but your puzzles have me dead curious. In fact, you’ve triggered the dreaded obsessive gamer in my soul. Can we meet for coffee? How about Diggits, 6 pm on Wed. the 20th?

  Luke Schumaker”

  Alex tucked the letter between his leg and the side of his wheelchair and rolled back from the door. He went down the hall to his bedroom where one of the windows faced the parking lot. The blinds on that window were always closed, but now he separated a few slats with his fingers and peered through. There was no sign of Luke and no reason why there would be this time of day. But he stared at Luke’s building all the same.

  Alex’s unit, the only wheelchair-accessible one in the complex, was number 30. It was the last unit on the right and the one closest to the woods and the trail up Henneman Hill. That was the view his living room window overlooked. On any given morning, he sat at his desk with his coffee and watched Luke and his dog set out between seven and eight and return an hour later.

  At first, Luke had merely been eye candy. He looked around Alex’s age or a bit older, late twenties to early thirties, and always wore sweatpants and a hoodie to hike. His most striking feature was long, blond hair. It reached the middle of his back, was stick straight, and it was the color of sun on a field of wheat. In the summers, Luke wore it back in a ponytail, but in the fall and winter, he left it loose and a bit tangled, like he’d just rolled out of bed. It had been nice, watching the cute guy and the dog set out each morning, and it made Alex smile, even if he was a little envious. What he wouldn’t give to be able to take a long morning walk every day.

  Soon Alex found himself getting up earlier so he didn’t miss Luke setting out. And then he’d casually asked Judy Miller, the complex manager, about the guy with the dog.

  “Him? That’s Luke Shoemaker, apartment 28a. Nice boy. He works on them computer games. Told me he makes up the puzzles and story and whatnot. And he works for a company all the way over in San Francisco.” She huffed. “Nice work if you can get it.”

  Luke was a computer game designer? He designed puzzles? That was almost, kind of, sort of, what Alex did. Which meant they were perfect for one another.

  Okay, not really. But at least they had something in common.

  His interest grew exponentially from there. And before he knew to stop himself, he’d developed an honest-to-god, old-fashioned, gut-churning, pulse-racing crush.

  Still, Alex might have never acted on it. Then one day the UPS guy delivered a small box with a red and black cover and a graphic of fangs.

  “What is that?” the UPS guy asked curiously.

  “This?” Alex held it up. “It’s a HorrorPack. It’s a subscription where you get four horror blu-rays a month, sometimes rare and obscure stuff. It’s a good value.”

  The UPS driver made a huh face. “Okay. Cool. I’ve seen a few of those lately. Just delivered one next door.”

  Alex’s heart gave a little jolt. “W-where? Here? In this complex? Like—”

  The UPS guy looked at Alex like he was hard of hearing. “Yeah. Just now. In this complex.”


  “It wasn’t, by any chance, to Luke Shoemaker in 28a, was it?”

  “That’s right. You guys buds?” The delivery man smiled.

  “Something like that,” Alex said, feeling his face heat.

  Sometimes life is subtle. And sometimes the signposts are so big and glaring you might as well be in Vegas. That night Alex designed the first crossword puzzle.

  He’d had no idea if his ploy was working or not. Then last weekend, Luke brought home a hunky biker dude for a hookup. And Alex realized he was building castles in the air, setting himself up for heartbreak. Even if Luke found the messages, he would never be interested in Alex.

  So. He stopped.

  He rolled back from his bedroom window. There was no point in staring at Luke’s building. Alex went to his desk, parked at it, and set the brake. He put Luke’s letter on the desktop and looked at it once again.

  Can we meet for coffee?

  Alex chewed on a fingernail for a while, then googled Diggits. He’d ridden by it but never gone inside. Their Facebook page didn’t specify that they were handicap accessible, but most places downtown were. He could always call and ask.

  He closed the window. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  Was he going to do it? Go to Diggits and meet Luke Shoemaker in person?

  Up to now this had been a game. He hadn’t even been sure Luke would see his messages. Now it was real.

  A real chance for joy. And a real chance for heartache.

  Chapter 5

  Man with a Grid

  On Wednesday Luke worked through his day in a rush. In the afternoon he took a bath and dressed carefully—fitted jeans that were perfectly broken-in, hiking boots, and a soft purple Henley under an open gold-and-purple plaid flannel shirt.

  Okay, maybe he was pushing the gay woodsy thing a bit far, but he thought it was hot. Anyway, the gold in the shirt set off his hair, and that was his finest asset. He blew it dry and applied a glossy spray that made the long, blond length shine.

  His stomach swarmed with butterflies, like he was going off to prom or something. And he was especially horny, his body already ramped up and expecting something a lot more intense than a casual coffee date. His palms were damp with nerves. Luke’s brain insisted it was no biggie, but he couldn’t seem to convince himself of that. So much for avoiding the chance of a huge disappointment.

  He arrived at Diggits at five, got a coffee, and took a seat. He opened up his laptop and surfed the web. He nervously studied everyone who came in the door. No one looked his way.

  By six fifteen, Luke figured A. Ecrivain wouldn’t show. By six forty-five, he was sure of it.

  He told himself it was for the best. There was no way the reality could ever have lived up to his stupid romantic ideas. Game over.

  Luke went up to the counter to drop a tip in the jar and saw an envelope propped up against the cash register. On the front was scrawled “Luke Schumaker.”

  “Hey!” Luke grabbed the attention of the blue-haired barista. “Do you know who left this here?”

  Jazzy looked at it and shrugged. “No idea. But it’s been sitting there since this morning. Is that you?”

  Luke nodded, his mouth dry.

  “Good. It would have gotten tossed at closing time. Have at it.”

  Luke took the envelope and went back to his abandoned seat. He distractedly took off his coat. Inside the envelope was a crossword puzzle. It was marked on grid paper with the clues neatly handwritten on the left, and at the bottom, it was signed “A. Ecrivain.”

  This must be how his admirer submitted puzzles to the newspaper. But this one, Luke knew, was just for him.

  Fucking awesome.

  With a dizzying sense of anticipation, Luke began working the puzzle.

  1 across – A measure _ _ _ _

  10 across – Where Sherlock lives minus two _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

  11 down – This evening _ _ _ _ _ _ _

  21 across – Be-, Out-, or In- _ _ _ _

  21 down – ___ the hill _ _ _ _

  23 across – Without (s’il vous plait) _ _ _ _

  25 across – Mobile on Mars _ _ _ _ _

  [Unit twenty-one B tonight. Come over sans Rover.]

  Luke tossed down his pencil and stared at the words with delight. He laughed aloud. “Holy shit.”

  “You’re having way too much fun over there,” Jazzy said dryly. “I may have to call the vice squad.” But she smiled.

  Luke felt positively giddy. He stuffed his pen back into his laptop case and his arms into his coat. “Hey, make me a coffee to go, will ya?”

  “I live. To serve,” Jazzy said in a flat robot voice.

  He waited while she made it and took it from her with a wink. “Hot date.”

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Jazzy gave him a wary look. “Which leaves out, basically, farm animals.”

  “You’re baaaad,” Luke said, mimicking a goat.

  Jazzy laughed. Luke walked on air all the way to his car.

  * * *

  Luke stood outside unit 21. It was the end unit in the complex. Apartment B was downstairs on the right and had a perfect view of the trail up Henneman Hill. Luke knew in his bones this was it. And he had a feeling he knew who lived here. He hesitated for a long moment, trying to work up his nerve and giving himself a silent lecture on how this was just a friendly thing and really, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all, dammit.

  He knocked on the door.

  The door opened, pulling back slowly. At the door was the guy in the wheelchair Luke had seen from his window. He was… wow… still a librarian-type this close up, but he was even cuter than he’d looked from afar. He appeared to be around Luke’s age, and his eyes were big, brown, and intelligent behind the glasses. With his thick dark hair and hunky physique he was, in completely objective terms, hot. Or adorable. Maybe h’orable. He was worthy of coining a new word.

  Luke’s heart flopped over in his chest like Trevor collapsing after a tiring run. It felt suspiciously like offering up his belly in surrender.

  He held out the paper cup. “Hi. I picked you up a two percent latte, unflavored. I figured it was the least likely to offend or cause a deadly allergic reaction.”

  The guy reached for the cup, then dropped his hand with a blush. “I’d better wheel myself inside before I take it. Would you like to come in?”

  Gee, way to go, Luke. First thing you do is offer a guy who needs both hands to wheel his chair a steaming hot beverage.

  “Sure,” Luke said, feeling like an idiot.

  “I’m Alex Shaw, by the way.” Alex held out a hand and gave him a smile.

  “Luke Schumaker. I, uh, guess you already knew that.”

  Luke passed the coffee to his left hand so he could shake Alex’s hand with his right. Alex’s palm was callused. His grip was nice, firm but with soft skin. His palm was a little bit damp like Luke’s. Luke didn’t let go at once, and neither did Alex. Alex’s eyes looked steadily into his. They were open and friendly but shy. Luke found himself getting warm.

  “Come on in,” Alex repeated, dropping his hand.

  “Thanks,” Luke said, thinking, Dear Lord, I am way too worked up over this.

  Alex wheeled himself into the living room and Luke followed. The lines of the room were familiar from Luke’s own apartment, but Alex’s place was neat and homey, with a canvas-covered couch, a navy plaid recliner, and a large TV. A round, knotty pine dining room table with four chairs and navy cushions sat in the dining nook where Luke had a retro aluminum table covered with magazines and other crap. A desk loomed in front of a window—a window that overlooked the trail up Henneman Hill. Every inch of the walls was covered with bookcases.

  Alex stopped his chair near the couch. Luke handed him the coffee with a sheepish smile. Feeling ridiculously anxious, he went to look out the window.

  “It’s all making sense to me now,” Luke teased, nodding his chin at the view of the trail.

  “Yes, you’ve found me. You
r stalker. I hope I didn’t freak you out too badly.”

  Luke shrugged. “It’s been fun.”

  “I noticed you walking your dog—well, obviously. I wasn’t sure how to….” Alex seemed flustered. “You have an awesome dog.”

  “Yeah. Trevor is great.”

  “It looks fun, taking a hike in the mornings. Do you go all the way to the top?”

  Yeah, I like to top, almost, horrifyingly, came out of Luke’s mouth. But Alex didn’t know his sense of humor yet, and that would be bad. Luke cleared his throat. “Yeah. It’s a nice view.”

  “I’m sure. Three miles a day—that’s a decent workout.”

  Luke wanted to ask if Alex ever hiked, but obviously not. And then he wanted to say something about working out, but that felt like a minefield too. God, when had he ever been this tongue-tied?

  Alex seemed to read his mind. “I hike sometimes. There’re handicap-accessible trails, and I have a fat-tire chair for rugged terrain. I like getting out.”

  “That’s cool,” Luke said, oh so brilliantly. Sheesh, he was going down in flames.

  Alex’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I asked Mrs. Miller about you, and she said you were a game designer and that you worked from home. So I thought the puzzles would be an… interesting way to introduce myself.”

  “I wouldn’t call it ‘interesting,'” Luke said.

  “Oh?” Alex looked disappointed.

  “Outrageous, maybe. Strange—in a good way. Insane. Clever. Cool. Classy. Scary, a bit. Possibly playful. Still thinking about that one.” Romantic, Luke added in his head. Hot. If brainy was the new sexy, it had definitely been hot.

  “That’s… a lot of adjectives,” Alex smirked.

  “I’m generous that way. I buy adjectives in bulk from Amazon, so I can afford to be.” Luke inwardly cheered that his brain had finally decided to show up for this conversation. “What would you have done if I didn’t like crossword puzzles?”