TAKE ME HOME (11 page)

He found Rebecca in the enclosed vestibule between cars. She was jumping up and down, trying to look out the window facing away from the passenger platform, her shoes lighting up as she landed with each jump, the twin braids of her hair flying in the air, then slapping against her back.

Kyle laughed. “What are you doing?”

She stopped and pointed to the window. “There are more trains over there. Bigger trains.”

“Yes.” He crouched in front of her. “But your mom wants you to get back to your seat.” She slapped her hands over her mouth.

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He smiled and nodded. “I think you’re in trouble.”

She giggled again and said, “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. Don’t tell on me.” Then, in a flash, she sprinted back the way they’d come.

He stood and followed her, apologizing to most of the same people on his way through the car. Evan and the mom were headed his way. He pointed toward the little girl in front of him, since the other passengers in the aisle blocked the short mother’s view. Her face lost most of the tension she’d been sporting. She mouthed thank you.

Rebecca zigzagged her way through the crowd, crawling on the floor in between one woman’s legs and under her skirt when she found no way around her. Most people were taking their seats as Kyle made his way after Rebecca, although he chose to wait for the woman blocking the aisle rather than crawl between her legs.

The young mother scooped Rebecca into a hug. “You are in so much trouble. You have to stop running away.”

“I wanted to see the trains.”

“Yes, but you have to wait for me.” The mom spoke to Kyle as he reached Evan’s side.

“Thank you for stopping her.”

“I didn’t stop her. More like found her and sent her back in your direction.”

“Well, thank you. I was trying to load our bags in the overhead compartment when she took off.”

Kyle gestured toward her bags on the seat beside the one she’d been standing on. “Let me help you.” He tried to step forward, but Evan was blocking his way, staring at him, his mouth hanging open.

“Hey, Ev, can I get by?”

Evan blinked and snapped out of the trance he seemed to be in. “Yeah.” He turned sideways.

Kyle slid between Evan and the row of seats. He paused when they were face-to-face.

Evan was still staring up at him, biting his bottom lip. Kyle wanted to bend down and give him a kiss, wanted to take a taste of those lips again. “I’ll be right back.” Evan nodded and watched him walk away. Kyle could practically feel Evan’s gaze on him as he lifted the woman’s two bags into the overhead compartment.

“Thank you again,” she said as she got her daughter situated in her seat next to the window.

“No problem.” He smiled at Rebecca. “No more running off to see trains, okay?” She pointed out the window. “I can see them from here now.”

“Yeah, you can.” He gave the mom a wink and stepped away. He didn’t want to be the one to tell Rebecca once they started moving, they wouldn’t be seeing too many other trains.

Evan had moved out of the main aisle into the space before an empty seat to let people pass, but he was still staring at Kyle.

Kyle took his coat and duffel bag from Evan and said, “Let’s go check out the digs.” Evan snapped his mouth shut. “Sure.”

What did that look mean? Now that they were on the train, about to be alone for three days, was Evan regretting his actions in the cab? Like the night before.

54

Sloan Parker

After moving through another section of coach seats, the observation car, and an empty dining area lined with booth-style seating, they reached the first car with private rooms.

“Happy holidays,” a train employee said as he walked toward them. “Tickets?” They handed them over. The man smiled, revealing bright white teeth with a wide gap between the front two. It was the kind of smile that had you immediately smiling back. He wore a dark blue shirt and pants, both neatly pressed, with creases along the pants like a military uniform. He also had on a red Santa hat with a white ball at the end swinging back and forth as he moved. He was a huge man, taller than Kyle and three times as round. How did he navigate the train’s narrow aisles without smacking into everything?

“You guys are in a sleeper,” the man said.

“Yes.” Evan sounded more excited than Kyle wanted to contemplate right then. Or maybe he did. Maybe Evan wasn’t regretting anything. Maybe he was also imagining everything they could do together in their shared room all the way to Chicago.

“Well,” the train guy said, “why are you coming from that way? You must have walked right by this car on the platform.”

“It’s our first trip on a train.” Evan was smiling back at the train attendant. “We got on at one of the coach cars.”

“They should’ve directed you back this way so you didn’t have to walk through all that chaos.”

“It’s okay,” Evan said, then his smile broadened, his dimples flashing. “Kyle made a new friend.”

Kyle rolled his eyes and fought the urge to smack Evan on the ass. Or to lean in and brush his thumb over one of those adorable dimples.

He was losing it.

“That’s what we like to hear,” the train guy said. “The friendliest people ride the rails. I’m Oscar, your car attendant. I’ll be taking care of you all the way to Chicago. Come on. I’ll show you the way.”

Oscar took one of Evan’s bags and led them through the car, the ball on his Santa hat swaying as he went. They walked a center hallway lined on both sides with rooms large enough for only two seats in each, no space to stand and move around. Only to sit in the facing seats and stare out the window, or at each other. Good thing Evan had gone for a larger room. Oscar moved gracefully through the train, smiling at passengers and bowing his head as they went by, the ball on his Santa hat never still for long. Either it was a standard part of the uniform this time of year or Oscar was one of those rare customer service employees who enjoyed his job, as well as the Christmas season.

“So, your first time on the train,” Oscar said.

“Yeah,” Evan said. “I’m looking forward to it. We usually fly. This looks like more fun.” He glanced over his shoulder at Kyle.

Fun?

After the cab ride, they’d barely talked on the flight from LA to San Francisco. They’d been in a two-seat row by the windows, and Evan had spent the forty-five-minute flight looking over the pages of his script while Kyle had faked a nap. After the grope in the cab, he’d hoped to avoid any accidental touches, sidelong looks, or conversation, for that matter. He’d never been Take Me Home

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reserved when it came to sex. Not even public sex. But his first time with Evan—maybe his only time now that Dickhead was angling his way back into Evan’s life—was not going to be something that would qualify them for the mile-high club. He wanted more than a handjob while crammed into a public bathroom stall, their clothes on, no room to touch Evan like he wanted to do, like he needed to do.

“You boys’ll like your sleeper,” Oscar said. “Much roomier than those crowded coach seats.”

They rounded a curve to another section where the hallway stretched the remaining length of the car with a bank of windows along one side and larger rooms lining the other. Each room had a sliding glass door with a blue curtain that could be pulled closed for privacy.

Oscar stopped at the other end of the hall. “This here’s your room. Let me show you the place, and then I’ll let you boys settle.” He gave them a brief tour by standing in the center of the room, spinning around and pointing while he explained how the fold-down table, thermostat, and call button worked. Kyle and Evan listened in from the open doorway.

Roomier? Than those two-seaters they’d passed, but that word couldn’t be used to describe the bedroom he and Evan would be sharing.

“I’ll stop by later to see if you need anything,” Oscar added. “And I’ll check with you on dinner. You can give me your orders if you prefer to eat here, or you can head to the dining car as soon as I give the word.” He stepped out into the hall. “I’ll also come by tonight to set up your beds.”

Kyle glanced at Evan, who had moved backward to the wall of windows facing the train platform.

Was he thinking about going to sleep that night? Or about the night before when they’d been lying in their own beds touching themselves at the same time?

Did he want something to happen on the train? It sure had seemed like it in the cab.

If he didn’t, how were they supposed to spend three days and two nights together in the smallest bedroom known to man?

Kyle thanked Oscar as he left, then stepped into the room for a better look. “Uh, it’s small but nicer than the ones at the other end of the car.”

Evan nodded from where he still stood outside the door.

Maybe nothing would happen between them. Maybe there’d be no talking or joking or anything all the way home. Kyle set his bag and backpack on the long bench that took up one side of the room. On the other side was a single seat next to an enclosure that had to be their private bathroom. In front of the lone oversize window, there was a flip table that could be raised and lowered between the bench and the chair. The room was covered in blues. Blue carpet, blue bench and seat cushions, blue curtains pinned back from the window. Wasn’t blue the color of tranquility? With that much blue maybe there was usually a need to keep passengers calm. Why?

It wasn’t like they were on a plane with turbulence or the potential for the engines to cut out, leaving them plummeting to the earth. What could go wrong on a train?

The rest of the room, including the walls, was devoid of color. He peeked into the open door of the bathroom. Also stark white. Small. No, minuscule. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

Evan didn’t say anything.

56

Sloan Parker

“Ev?”

“Yeah.” He finally stepped into the room and placed his bags next to Kyle’s. “What am I not going to believe?”

“The bathroom is the shower.”

“What?”

“The toilet’s in the shower.”

“No way.” Evan walked the two steps it took to reach the bathroom and poked his head inside, trapping Kyle against the far wall. “I don’t understand.”

“They have to save space somehow.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Evan laughed. “It’s kinda cool. I think the bench is one of the beds.”

“Yeah. The other one folds down so they’re like bunk beds.” Kyle sucked in a slow breath.

Evan hadn’t moved from where he’d practically pinned him to the wall with his shoulder.

He’d thought sleeping in separate rooms in his apartment had been bad.

Evan finally stepped away and crossed the room. He picked up a magazine from the seat by the window and laughed again. “Look what they left for us.” He held up the magazine. Jake Gallagher was on the cover. He wore a white T-shirt and jeans, his feet bare, his hands tucked into the front pockets on his jeans. His hair was disheveled, and he had a five o’clock shadow.

Kyle laughed with Evan. It felt good. Normal. Like them. “Nice of them to provide you with some one-handed material.”

“Me?” Evan said. “You’re the one dreaming about him.”

Kyle couldn’t stop the smile. Yeah, this was better.

Then they grew quiet as Evan stared at the magazine in his hands. Kyle pictured the night before. Evan in his running shorts. Evan lying on the couch in his underwear. The two of them kissing in the hallway, their bodies thrusting together, both of them tugging and clinging and coming so close to more.

Jerking off while Evan was doing the same, knowing they were each hearing the other, thinking of each other, had been one of the most erotic moments of his life, and it had involved nothing more than his own hand, and the grunts and slick sounds from Evan.

“The room’s not bad,” Evan said as he tossed aside the magazine and opened his bag. “At least it’ll be quiet so you can write.” Maybe his thoughts weren’t running along the same lines as Kyle’s. He slipped by Kyle and went into the bathroom, carrying a bottle of contact solution.

Speaking of writing…

Kyle moved away from the wall and tried to bury the thoughts about jerking off. About Evan’s body. He opened his bag. He had to get to work. He spotted the journal tucked inside. He also had something else to take care of.

Writing would have to wait. He sat and read the next entry of the journal.

Chicago. September 1, 1952

The bar was one of those places I had only read about. Like nothing I’d seen in my youth in Ohio. I just knew every guy in the place had a gun tucked under his jacket. Joe understood I was nervous. I didn’t have to say anything. Neither did he.

He smiled and held the door open for me. It was stupid to be scared. I’d been through Take Me Home

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a war. I’d carried a gun slung over my shoulder for months. I’d killed men. Walking into a mob-run bar should not have been a big deal.

I stepped inside, and Joe followed close behind. I felt him at my back. Normally such close proximity out in public would have bothered me. I didn’t want anyone to jump to the right conclusions about us. But at that bar, at that moment, I needed his strength at my back. I needed his reassurance. I had a very bad feeling about the next couple of hours.

The bar and what we were going to do inside was only the first entry on Joe’s list of adventures. He wanted to feel alive after all we’d seen in the war, and I wanted to give him everything he desired.

We headed to the door that led to the back rooms we’d learned about the night before at the Gold Star Casino. A man sporting a scowl and a scar that ran from his forehead to his chin and cut through one eye stood guard at the door. It reminded me of Joe’s scar and how lucky he’d been he hadn’t lost his eye. How lucky we both were to come home from the war.

Joe gave the code word and handed over the cash. Without speaking, Scarface led us inside and down the long hallway to the last door before the rear exit. The sounds of live music, conversations, and the clinking of glasses from the bar were gone as we stepped inside the silence of the small room and Scarface shut the door behind us.

One man stood in the corner next to a rolling cart that held bar glasses and bottles of liquor. His hands were clasped in front of him. He didn’t move a muscle. A round poker table took up the bulk of the room. Five men were seated evenly around it.