Secrets and Ink (2 page)

He let out an embarrassed laugh. “That was Kurt’s fault—my old partner from my street-patrol days. He’s retired now but makes nice money on the side by doing movie-set guard jobs. He had to pull out of this one at the absolute last minute and couldn’t find anyone else to fill in on such short notice.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Come to think of it, others I’ve seen on sets before were older.”

He nodded. “They’re all retired cops.”

Nick proved good at asking questions and listening—useful skills in his chosen profession. I can blabber on once started. We chatted about movies, weather, family, the usual stuff. I learned that Nick worked robbery and homicide at the LAPD Hollywood division. He’d made detective only a couple of years ago after close to a decade on street patrol. He didn’t share details of his job, but robbery and homicide is not exactly first date material.

Skipping over the misspent years of my youth, I gossiped about life at FTP, coworkers, customers and trade secrets. “You know those chicken cilantro mini dumplings you like so much?” I asked.

“How do you know how much I like them?”

“Well, you keep buying them week after week. Three bags last time.”

“You got me. What about them?”

I leaned forward for a conspiratorial whisper. “You can buy them cheaper at Costco, if you don’t mind getting three pounds at once.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised and too loud.

“Shh! Keep your voice down. If Fred learns I gave you the secret, he’ll make me walk the plank.”

“Is Fred real?”

“As real as Santa Claus,” I said solemnly.

We both knew Fred was as fictional as Aunt Jemima, but Nick remained attentive while I prattled on about Fred’s supposed exploits, traveling to faraway lands in pursuit of exotic TV dinners. I made them all up on the spot.

In the end, we exchanged phone numbers and met again later that week for lunch. It was a casual affair at a sandwich shop next door, since we both had jobs to get back to. I’d been on edge the whole time waiting for the first shoe to drop. My dating history of the past years had been littered by disasters so ridiculous they could’ve filled a Mr. Bean movie. If Mr. Bean was gay, and I would’ve totally bought that.

I’d eliminated the obvious hazards from my dating menu—like bikers with neck tattoos and unemployed artists, actors and musicians, but that didn’t help. How could I have known that the seemingly straitlaced investment banker had a hard-on for a certain purple dinosaur? He’d wanted me to don a furry suit and have a “play date” with him. He was going to dress as an oversized yellow bird. I hadn’t been opposed to a bit of kink, but that had gone over the line. Not to mention, purple and yellow would’ve clashed so badly. He’d only been the tip of the iceberg.

I didn’t tell any of this to Nick, but if he ripped his face off like a rubber mask to reveal the exoskeleton of an insect-like alien, I wouldn’t have been the least surprised. But instead, he became more likable. He could even be funny.

Nick regaled me with a story from his uniform days. “So the guy finally pulls into a Ralph’s parking lot and stops. We got out of the patrol car, me taking the lead and Carol, my partner, hanging back.”

“Wait, I thought your partner was a guy.”

“This was after Kurt retired.”

“Oh, okay. Go on.”

“I would’ve just given the guy a ticket for running the stop sign, but he was acting squirrelly, and I thought I smelled pot. So I signal Carol and ask the guy to step out of the car and pat him down. Sure enough, I find a joint in his pocket, but it doesn’t seem to bother him much. I ask if we can look into the trunk, and he cheerfully agrees.”

Our waitress chose this moment to show up with the appetizers. I smiled politely and resisted the urge to shoo her away. She left at last. I ignored my warm salad, but Nick had already started on his steamed mussels.

“Don’t you dare take another bite until you finish the story,” I growled at him.

He unhurriedly chewed, swallowed and dabbed his lips with the napkin. I could tell from the crinkles in the corners of his eyes he enjoyed making me wait. Controlling bastard. He dropped the napkin back into his lap. “Right. So the trunk opens, and I hear Carol gasp. Meanwhile my guy says ‘oops’.”

Nick picked up his fork again, but I grabbed his wrist. “What was in the trunk?”

“One and a half dead bodies.”

“No!”

With my jaw dropped, I watched him devour one mollusk after another. When the last one disappeared, he pushed his plate away. “So I radio it in and put the asshole in the cage. He keeps saying he can explain, but I tell him to save it for later. And then Carol, who’s been staring into the trunk, starts laughing like a hyena. I thought she’d lost her mind. Are you gonna eat that?” He gestured at my salad.

“Yes! What happened next?”

“Well, it turned out the asshole was a junior prop guy on the set of a zombie movie. They had some mix-up, and he ended up transporting a couple of very realistic corpse dummies in the trunk of his car. I can imagine how shocked Carol was when she first saw them, but then she noticed that the half corpse ended in a green plastic piece at the waist.”

“Whoa. I would’ve had a heart attack.” My warm salad was more like lukewarm by then, but still good, thanks to bacon.

“Yeah, Carol told me I could be the one opening trunks from then on.”

I saw him eyeing my salad, so I pushed the plate in his direction. “What happened to the driver?”

“We booked him for possession and for making us look bad. We were the butts of jokes for years. It even went beyond the squad,” he said, pilfering slices of mushroom.

“He probably never ran a stop sign again.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Nick had a hearty appetite, and I liked watching him eat. As the starch went out of his demeanor, my fears and reservations gradually peeled away, and by dessert we fell into an easy rapport. I started to think that at last my curse had dried up. One thing was sure: I was ready to take it to the next level. When Nick gave me a good-night kiss, pin-prickles of anticipation raced up and down my spine.

I got ready for our Friday night date with extra care. Green is a color nature can pull off without effort but the fashion industry struggles with. What looks good on a tree can be drab on a person. I had exactly one shirt in the right shade of green that said I’m friendly, fun, and most importantly, available. The sensuous finish of the silk-cotton blend was a bonus.

At Nick’s suggestion, we met at Ombre, a hot West Hollywood nightclub. I arrived with a slight unease. I’d been staying away from WeHo for years, mostly to avoid running into old acquaintances. From the entrance, I scanned the place for familiar faces.

Nick picked up on my unease. “Looking for escape routes?” His voice carried easily over the noise.

“Sizing up the competition. It’s been a while since I’ve been out clubbing.”

“Really? How come?”

I shrugged because that was not a subject I wanted to discuss. Not now, possibly not ever. “Are you gonna buy me a drink or what?”

The buzz of alcohol muted my worries and set my nerve endings on fire with anticipation. On the dance floor, you had to shout to be heard, but fortunately, words were unnecessary for the mating dance of the North American gay male. As time went on, the volume of the music seemed to increase to testicle-busting level. Sweaty bodies writhed everywhere you looked, and the smell of men and desire in the air was thick enough to choke a horse. God, it was exhilarating. I sent my brain on vacation and let my body have some fun. I was in the company of an officer of the law, after all. I felt safe and electrified at once. Nick must’ve felt similarly—his powerful body moving with the beat had me mesmerized.

Much later that night, I found out why he picked Ombre—we only had to take a short walk from there to his place. Nick’s place was a typical two-story complex with scant personality or style—a lot like my own. Boxy with beige stucco. However, he had a swimming pool. His place was on the second floor too. The rent must’ve been higher than mine, though, because of the plum location.

The moment we got inside, Nick pushed me against the wall and pressed his lips on mine. I sucked on his invading tongue—the sharp tang of whiskey cut through the lingering flavor of the appletinis I’d had. I pushed my hands under his silk shirt, but he grabbed them by the wrist and pinned them over my head. I groaned in frustration and felt his smile even as we kept kissing. Switching to a one-handed grip, he used his free hand to unzip my jeans. He swept his thumb over the sticky head of my cock, eliciting another groan from me. I canted my hip for more friction, but he pulled back.

“C’mon, Jem, we made it this far. The bedroom’s only a few more yards.” His voice rumbled like distant thunder.

I tried to keep mine even, with limited success. “Lead the way, oh fearless one.”

I followed him through the dark apartment. Between the living room door and the bed, we managed to lose most of our clothes. All I had left on were my unbuttoned shirt and my briefs when Nick pushed me down on the bed. Cool sheets soothed my hot skin. I lifted my hips to allow Nick to tug my underwear off.

He licked a swath across the length of my cock and swirled his tongue around the head. I had to think seriously unsexy thoughts to avoid embarrassing myself. Fortunately, he moved on and nibbled his way up my stomach and chest till his body covered mine and we were nose to nose and dick to dick. My whole being reduced to the sensation of friction of skin slick with sweat, scratch of hair, and the feel of the hard globes of his ass undulating under my fingers. My nostrils filled with the scent of Nick and our combined arousals.

Animal urges kept us grunting and rutting against each other till I couldn’t hold back anymore and my release erupted and coated our stomachs. Nick thrust a few more times; then he came too, groaning into my neck.

After a minute, he rolled off me, and we were quiet for a few breath-catching moments. Conscious thought trickling back, I realized if anything, I wanted Nick even more now. I wanted to fall asleep in his arms, wake up later and make love again, slower this time. I wanted to wake up next to him tomorrow, just to see his morning face. I was afraid if I wasn’t careful, I’d burst out my cravings too soon. So I said, “That was nice.”

“Understatement of the year.”

I squinted down at the mess on my belly. “Do you have something—”

He pushed a box of Kleenex at me before I could finish the sentence. He also flipped the reading light on, so I could actually see the damage. I dabbed our combined jizz up the best I could, while he did the same on his end.

“Are you always this full of yourself, or were you saving it up for me?” I handed him the crumpled tissues.

He dropped them in the wastebasket. Yeah, he was the kind of guy who had one of those in the bedroom. “There’s more if you’re not in a hurry.”

“I have all night,” I said with a happy grin.

He turned to his side, and so did I, fitting my buttocks into his groin. He brushed a hand down my side and stopped at my hip. He traced his thumb over a spot on my lower back. Oh yeah, my spider tattoo. It was an unusual design. I’d gotten many comments on it, especially back when I’d been prone to show it around. Nick didn’t say a word, but his grip went tight. I swear the temperature of the room dropped two degrees.

I rolled around to see what was wrong. Nick’s face was a frozen mask, and I couldn’t understand why, but my heart began a skittish gallop.

He stared into my face, searching for something. “Sasha.” The word dropped between us like a venomous snake.

I froze. Nobody had called me by that name in ages. He couldn’t have known—and then I recognized the utter revulsion in his eyes. It hit me like a sledgehammer: Nick and I had met once before, and nobody else had ever looked at me with that level of loathing before or since. Shame and humiliation flooded me in a hot wave as I leapt out of the bed. I snatched my clothes off the floor and yanked them on as I fled. I had my shoes and jeans on—the latter still unzipped as the front door slammed behind me. Oh yeah, the curse was still firmly in place.

I managed to catch a cab on Santa Monica Boulevard. Sitting in the back, still in a state of shock, I started to swear at fate that had brought me together with the man I least wanted to ever meet again. For additional irony, I reeked of his spunk. The Armenian cabbie caught it too, judging from his disgusted silence. I wiped a tear of misery and frustration from the corner of my eye.

Up in my apartment, I took a hot shower, scrubbing till my skin turned red. I seriously contemplated taking a prescription sleeping pill but decided I’d better not on top of the alcohol. With my luck, I had a good chance of ending up like poor Heath Ledger. I swallowed a handful of valerian capsules instead.

Chapter Two

The night was warm, but I wrapped the blanket around me like a protective cocoon. Unfortunately, it couldn’t shield me from the memories. Sasha was my middle name, but in my teens I’d dropped Jeremy completely in its favor. I loved the way Sasha sounded—exotic, romantic, a bit swishy. That was me at seventeen. My way of rebelling was dressing up like a tart and engaging in casual sex with strangers in exchange for money.

When I’d grown my hair out longer than my sister’s and dyed it raven, my parents had taken it with jaw-clenching exasperation. They hadn’t batted an eye at my matching fingernails. Mom and Dad thought I was having a goth phase, but they had no idea about my secret life that had gone along with the clothes. Many nights I’d squeezed myself into my skinniest black jeans and put on a gauzy shirt before sneaking out of the house. Complete with eyeliner and lip gloss, I’d rocked the androgynous look. I’d meet up with Riley at the corner, and the two of us would set out to have some fun.

West Hollywood boasts more gay bars and nightclubs than you can shake a dick at. We had our false IDs, and a couple of cute twinks like us got all the free drinks we wanted. Hollywood, on the other hand, had offered skeezier entertainment, and we’d liked it exactly for that reason. There, tourists mingled with locals, Scientology clones, street entertainers, runaways, the homeless, hustlers and partygoers. You never knew who you were gonna run into.