Читать книгу Code Of Conduct - Rich Merritt - Страница 15

“You’re strong,” the Sailor said. “I like that in a man.”

Jay wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and gave him a firm squeeze. “You twenty-one?” He hoped his playfulness seemed sincere. “They gonna arrest me for buying you drinks?”

“Well, thank you!” The Sailor slurred his words. “You’re so sweet! I’m almost twenty-two!” Turning his glass upside down, he swallowed the last of his vodka. “Whoops! All gone.”

Jay ran his hand through the Sailor’s hair. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“I told you already. It’s Jerry.”

“Just ‘Jerry’? No last name?”

“My my, you ain’t supposed to ask that until the second date,” Jerry whispered in Jay’s ear. “Tell you a secret. It’s Giles. With a G.” Jay grabbed him as he stumbled. “Wanna know another secret? My last name ain’t all I’ll give up on the first date.”

“Something tells me it’s no secret you’re easy, ‘Jerry Giles.’ Your name is easy, too. Easy to remember.” He pointed to the anchor and USN on Jerry’s chest. “Like your tattoo.”

“That old thing?” the drunken Sailor asked. “You can lick it if you want.”

“I’ll wait.” Jay winked, asking, “Your friends in the Navy?”

“Why? You interested in them?” Jerry pouted. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do. But I like to hang out with you military guys. You’re so sexy.”

“We are? Aw, you say the sweetest things.” Jerry looked across the pool table and pointed. “He is. He used to be. That hottie’s a SEAL. That one pretends to be whatever will get him laid. And this one’s a Marine.” Jay congratulated himself on his correct assumptions. “A lot of the military guys are stuck up. They hang out on the roof.”

“The roof?” Jay asked. “They let people on the roof?”

“Oh yeah!” said Jerry. “It’s nice up there. Want me to take you?”

Before Jay could say “yes,” one of Jerry’s friends interrupted. “No you don’t, Jerry. Time to go. You been falling down for an hour. We’re taking you home and putting you to bed.” Jerry mumbled his dissatisfaction.

“See ya next week!” Jerry waved as his friend helped him leave. “I want my second date.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Patrick prayed the answer was “yes.”

“Tomorrow? Um, sure,” Don said. “What’re your plans?” Patrick rattled off a list of moving-related activities. “I’ll give you my number. Call and tell me what time to come over. I’ll pick up dinner and sneak into the Bachelor Officers’ Quarters.”

“Sounds like an outstanding plan,” Patrick said. The two men smiled at each other for a few seconds before Patrick asked, “Do—you—want to give me your number?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah.” Don searched his pockets and looked frantically at the bar for paper.

Karl smirked and handed his friend a book of matches. “These come in handy.”

“You’d be the one to know,” Eddie said.

“Thanks,” Don said as Patrick handed him a pen from his jacket. “This looks nice.”

“What kind of pen is that?” Eddie asked. “A Mont Blanc?”

“Yep. Too high class for me,” said Patrick. “Graduation gift from my fiancée’s dad.” Don’s expression told Patrick he should’ve broken the news of his former engagement more gently.

“Robbi’s my fiancée,” Karl said. “We’re dropping her off at her girlfriend’s lesbian bar later. You and your fiancée swing that way?” Robbi rolled her eyes. “What? What’d I say now?”

“I assume your fiancée situation is—real?” asked Don.

“No. I meant to say ex-fiancée. Karen is—was—I just broke our engagement.”

“Ah.” Don gave the matchbook to Patrick. “Can you read my writing? More important—do you know where Vista is? It’s just a few miles inland from Oceanside.”

“A map came with my rental car.”

“Oh shit!” Karl exclaimed. “A lieutenant with a map? Alert the search team now.”

“Is he always like this?” Patrick asked. “Or is this my initiation?”

“Always!” Don, Eddie and Robbi said in unison.

Patrick repeated the number aloud. He fumbled with the matchbook. “I don’t want to go but I need some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Waving good-bye, he turned toward the exit.

“Good night,” said Robbi and Eddie while Karl scoped out the dwindling crowd.

Don followed a few steps behind. “Want me to walk you to your car?”

Patrick squinted and gave Don a look of embarrassment. “I parked far—to be discreet.”

“I did that when I started going to gay bars. It’s smart. All the talk about Clinton lifting the ban has made our nightspots visible. One of the network news shows was here last night trying to talk to active duty military people.”

“Military people talking to a reporter? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“You get tired of the forced silence. Other than that, I—don’t—” Don’s words faded as he edged closer to Patrick. They gave each other a goodnight kiss, which, to Patrick’s delight, was even more passionate than before.

“Tomorrow,” Patrick said, bounding down the stairs with a huge grin.

As he drove to his motel, he couldn’t stop thinking about Don—not that he tried. The memory—Don’s musky aroma, the thick five o’clock shadow, his tan skin and deep-set eyes—excited Patrick in a way he’d never felt. His hands sweated, requiring extra effort to hang on to the steering wheel. He’d loved Karen, but she’d never made him feel like this. He knew so little about Don but couldn’t wait to learn more. “Guess that’s what tomorrows are for,” he said, turning into the motel’s parking lot. Even though he felt too excited to sleep, he wanted to hurry up and try so that tomorrow would arrive as soon as possible. Tomorrow was a chance to see Don again. He wanted to know the man who’d awakened him to this unknown ecstasy. Parking the car near his room, he looked at Don’s number, with its bold swift strokes. In the room, the clock showed it was past midnight. “Awesome! Tomorrow’s already here!”

“And the party continues,” Eddie mumbled to himself as the men danced in front of him. WC’s lower bar held good memories of the days when he and Ray had been the life of the party. He laughed as Sheffy, an old friend from the South, took the stage as Elton John, along with a stunning black drag queen. They did a remake of Elton’s “Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart,” with someone named RuPaul taking the place of KiKi Dee. “Even the music’s kind of the same.”

“What?” a bartender he didn’t know shouted over the noise. “You want something?”

“No—sorry.” Eddie didn’t realize he’d vocalized his thoughts.

He’d been away from the scene and it had gone on without him just as Ray had gone on without him. He didn’t miss the scene but he missed Ray more than he could bear. Now he wondered why he’d stayed at WC’s after his friends left. Maybe the magic between Don and Patrick had given him some optimism. He couldn’t think about finding someone else, but maybe the sparkle that had returned to Don’s eyes was a sign that overdue good times were on their way. Perhaps Clinton’s inauguration and his promise to lift the ban were good omens. Or maybe Eddie should go home and rest. Tomorrow he’d clean the gutters and fix a window because there’d be no football games. The Cowboys and Bills were prepping for the Super Bowl.

“I see your friends abandoned you.” Eddie assumed the voice behind him was addressing someone else so he sidestepped out of the way. To make certain, though, he glanced over his shoulder. To his surprise, a man looked at him. “Your group. Upstairs it looked like you were joined at the hip.” The man moved closer. “Glad I caught you alone. Name’s Stephen.”

Eddie hesitated. After fifteen years in the Navy, he was suspicious about meeting people, especially unfamiliar faces in gay bars. He’d seen too many careers destroyed after people became overly friendly with beautiful strangers too quickly and he’d survived too much to suffer the same fate. “Good to meet you, Stephen.” He measured his friendliness. “New in town?”

“Pardon?” Stephen scowled at the speakers, indicating the music was too loud.

Sheffy had left the stage and the DJ had switched to nonvocal techno that sounded like someone was beating pots and pans. Leaning forward, Eddie shouted, “Wanna go upstairs?”

“Upstairs would be great!” Stephen grabbed his beverage.

A thirty-minute conversation couldn’t hurt. Eddie motioned for Stephen to follow him. The crowded stairway forced the two men to climb single file. Glancing back, Eddie said, “It’s easier to hear up top and the music’s better. I can’t stand most of this crap anymore. Never thought I’d miss Blondie so much.” On the second flight of less noisy stairs he said, “For lack of a wittier question, I asked if you were new in town.”

“You could say I am. Been here a few weeks. I’ve gone out—till tonight, every bar and club was dead. I was beginning to think San Diego didn’t have any nightlife.”

“It’s different. We’re a lot more laid back than L.A. or San Francisco. And proud of it.” Eddie waved to Lance as he and Stephen located an isolated spot at the edge of the patio. Lance smiled and nodded as he handled bottles and mixed drinks for WC’s thirsty gay men and women. “Time for another drink. Get you anything?”

“A diet soda. Whatever they have.”

“Smart man. These cops like to go after guys leaving gay clubs.”

Eddie found a vacant spot at the bar. To the annoyance of the men in line, Lance stopped to make his friend a martini. “Those girls have had too much already,” said Lance.

“Easy killer.” Eddie motioned for Lance to hold back on the gin. “I’m a lightweight compared to what I used to be. My judgment’s already off tonight.”

“You kidding me? Your judgment’s right on! Your friend is the catch of the day.”

“My friend will have a diet soda.” Eddie smiled in Stephen’s direction. “Seems decent. He just moved here. Appears levelheaded and reasonably sane.”

“Reasonably sane? That’s a rare find at this hour.” Lance handed the drinks across the bar. “It’s great to see you. You’re one of the few guys I miss when you don’t come around.”

“Thank you, Lance. You’ll be seeing more of me.” Taking the glasses, he added, “Karl was a damned fool to let you go.”

“You’re a kind soul for saying that but I was the fool to think I could domesticate the boy. That’s a job for someone with a much more forceful personality than mine. But yeah, he’s a fool too. I’m quite a catch, ain’t I? Shit! Speaking of Casanova—” Lance pulled a brown paper bag from under the bar. “He left his sweatshirt here. You’ll see him before I will.”

Eddie grunted as he tucked the package under his arm. “Always picking up after Karl.”

“Embrace it. We exist to serve the gods. It’s our destiny!” Lance returned to his customers.

Eddie preferred the roof, not only for the music, but also because the patio lights and the moon allowed him a clearer look at Stephen than in the dim lights below. “Here’s your drink.”

“Thanks,” Stephen said as they leaned against the ledge. “You didn’t have to get me a gift.”

The comment threw Eddie until he remembered the paper bag. “This? My friend has a habit of leaving his clothes all over San Diego.”

“Here’s to good friends looking out for each other.” Stephen clinked his soda glass against Eddie’s and they sipped their beverages. Eddie maintained a semialert posture but he warmed to the new guy. Stephen had a dark—but not artificial—tan and big brown eyes. He wore the de rigueur faux-butch club outfit of tight T-shirt and jeans, but on him, they had the intended effect. With his masculine features and lean body, he fit into most gay men’s “desirable” category. Physically desirable men, though, were commonplace at WC’s on a Saturday night, especially after he’d had three strong martinis.

Stephen’s most alluring feature was his eyes. Eddie knew the look well. All the masquerading in the world couldn’t hide sadness from someone who shared it. Stephen had known real hurt and his big smile couldn’t cover the pain. “What brings you to San Diego?”

“Same as everybody. The sun, the ocean, the climate—and the men. I was a security guard in Baltimore when I had this revelation. I was newly single and one morning I woke up and said to myself, ‘I can do this same fuckin’ job someplace a hell of a lot nicer than Baltimore.’”

Eddie raised his martini glass. “Here’s to sky-high rents, low-paying dead-end jobs and perfect weather.” Stephen laughed as he touched his glass to Eddie’s. “Welcome to San Diego.”

“And to friendly men.” Stephen scanned the busy roof. “You know the bartender?”

“You interested in Lance? I’ll introduce you. He’s a great guy—smart too—has a goal of getting a Ph.D. in nuclear physics—or molecular biology, somethin’ brainy like that.” Eddie’s slight buzz was just enough to override his rule against divulging friends’ personal information.

“Really? He looks too sexy to be that intelligent.”

“He showed up about five years ago. I think I was on my second tour here—I mean it was the second time I worked in San Diego.” Eddie cursed inwardly for his slip. The distinction was that when civilians “toured,” they went on a tour, as in going on a tour of the Sistine Chapel while on vacation, as he and Ray had done years earlier. When they changed jobs, though, civilians “moved” or “relocated.” It was a stupid mistake and he should’ve known better.

If Stephen caught Eddie’s sudden word change, he didn’t let on. “I left Michigan at seventeen. Like a fucking idiot, I moved to Baltimore to live with a cousin. All the places in America, I had to move to goddamned Baltimore.”

Eddie liked laughing again. “Good old seventeen. We’re expected to make all these life-changing decisions at the very age when we’re least capable of making them.”

“Ain’t it ironic? What life-changing decision did you make at seventeen?”

Eddie had set a trap for himself. At seventeen he’d joined the Navy. Maybe it would be easier to trust Stephen with the truth than to continue the game. Loose lips sink ships. The mantra repeated itself in his mind and he decided the game was safer. “Ran away from home.”

“Where’d you run to?”

Eddie stared at Stephen for a moment to determine if he was nosy or genuinely interested. It was a thin line but he settled on the latter. “Florida for a while. Then Virginia. After that I went to Europe and then here—twice.” He omitted his stint in Japan because that would be a dead giveaway. Few Americans—and no African-Americans he knew—ever ran away to Japan.

“That’s a lot of running.”

“You’re right,” Eddie said, sipping his martini. “But this is home now.”

Several minutes of comfortable silence passed. “You haven’t said your name.”

“You never asked.”

“Didn’t want to pry.” Stephen’s smile was coy. “If you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”

“That’s mighty polite of you. It’s Ed.” He chose the name he always gave new acquaintances. After Stephen spent time with his friends, Ed would become “Eddie.”

The music changed and the volume increased. Eddie scowled at a video screen when a dance-techno group played a song he didn’t like. “Thought we’d be away from this music here.”

Stephen moved in, his body touching Eddie’s. “Wanna go someplace where we can choose our own music?” he whispered. Eddie bristled. In the world of gay men, Stephen’s question always meant one thing and only one thing. Perhaps it was the same between men and women, but among gay men, it was gospel truth. Wanna go someplace translated directly to Let’s fuck.

“Stephen, you’re a very good-lookin’ man, I’m just not into anything sexual. Haven’t been for a while. Probably won’t be in the near future. Nothing to do with you. Back in my day, I woulda been all over you.”

“Back in your day’? You’re young.” Stephen rattled the ice in his empty soda glass. “I’m not looking for sex. I’m new in town. Just looking for friends, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie had heard this line before but judging from Stephen’s face, he was sincere or a great actor. He decided to violate his rule against bringing strangers home. “I’m ready to go and I don’t live far. You can follow me to my house if you’d like to come over and talk for a half hour or so.” In a tougher tone he added, “But I mean it, Stephen. I’m not interested in sex. If that’s what you’re after, there are a lot of guys in this place who’d oblige you.”

“I hear you, Ed. No sex. Been around the block enough times to know the value of my currency in the meat market. Not being vain when I say I could hook up with ninety percent of these guys if I wanted—just being realistic.” Looking at Eddie intently, he explained, “What you and your friends have—that’s what I want. It’s what I had in Baltimore. I almost didn’t move ’cause I didn’t want to leave my friends. It’s hard to find quality people.”

“How d’you know we’re quality people? I think we are. But you don’t know that.”

“It’s what I want to find out—why I want to get to know people outside of bars. Come to a place like this, meet nice people, get to know them someplace else.”

Eddie liked Stephen. What he said made sense and Eddie felt that perhaps he’d make a good friend and addition to their little family. He wasn’t a military person but being in the service wasn’t a requirement—it just happened that way most of the time. “Sorry if I implied you’re just another horn-dog but come on—it’s almost last call at WC’s.” Stephen laughed, his nod communicating Eddie had nothing to apologize for.

“Y’all ready for this?” said a voice on the television.

Eddie smiled at Stephen and said, “I’m ready if you are.”