Coming Out - 6. Like a Bad Penny

Professor Étienne Duvalier accompanied me out of the conference room. Seeing how shaky I was, he kindly grasped my elbow and guided me. I had just defended my Master’s thesis in industrial engineering, and I was exhausted, wondering if I had lost everything I had worked so hard for over the past three years.

“That was an outstanding defense, Bruce.”

Shocked back to reality, I turned and stared at him, unable to decide if he were serious or simply trying to cheer me up. “Really? It didn’t seem like that.”

He put a fatherly hand on my shoulder. His French accent was endearing and calming. “Well, you were aware that they were likely to be hard on you.”

Hard? They came at me like a damn Kamikaze attack.

He gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze. “After all, you are the best student in your class, you’re going for a double degree, and you have one of the highest GPAs I’ve seen in the program. So of course, they wanted to ensure they were asking all the right questions.”

He winked at me. “And you gave them all the right answers, by the way.”

I sighed and thought, At least he didn’t bullshit me. I thought things started well, but I began feeling more and more unprepared as they bombarded me with tangential questions. I guess he’s right—they were trying to figure out how far I had gone with the idea.

Reacting to my silence, my professor chortled, “I believe the expression is you nailed it, Bruce!”

He shook my hand, and I smiled in relief. We had reached the end of the corridor, and Professor D headed toward his private office while I made my way to the exit and stepped out into the bright spring sunlight and fresh ocean breeze.

As I shuffled down the steps, still feeling like I had been screwed eight ways from Sunday, a classmate, Chuck Barnes, hustled up to me.

“How’d it go?”

“OK, I guess.”

“You aced it, so don’t gimme that bullshit.”

“Maybe.”

“What did Doctor Duvalier say?”

“He said I did fine—that they were pushing the limits to figure out how much I really know.”

“And?”

“I think they were satisfied.”

“But you weren’t?”

“I dunno. I’m still reeling from the mental rape. My asshole has been squeezed so tight for the last ninety minutes that I doubt I could shit to save my life.”

Chuck laughed. “You do have a way with words, Brucie.” He knew I hated being called that, so I glared at him.

He backtracked. “Just trying for a little comic relief, buddy. You look like you could use a beer—or a glass of Chablis or whatever crap you drink. Whaddaya say?”

I shook my head. “What I need now is to get home and put this behind me.”

He laughed again. “You mean, you need to get home and put David’s dick in your behind! You’d think that after all this time together you two would have done everything there is to do and would now be as bored as an old married couple.”

I couldn’t help myself. I roared with laughter, partly at Chuck’s insolence, and partly because he was dead right. A sense of relief replaced the turmoil that was roiling inside me.

I need David’s love and to have wild, mind-blowing sex with him—and right now, dammit.

I nodded in agreement. “That sounds about right, Chuck. I’ll defer the Chablis until I hear the results of my inquisition.”

“Well, I’m sure your thesis was golden, and those old farts will have to admit it. The question is—how jealous are they, and how much will they dare take it out on the department’s star pupil?”

I checked to see if he was showing any jealousy. By my sophomore year, I had begun working on a dual degree—a bachelor’s in industrial engineering and a master’s in aeronautics at the same time. The work was hard but stimulating, and I loved every minute.

Chuck gave me a high-five and a light punch on the shoulder. He hurried off to find that beer, and I was “home” (David’s apartment) in fifteen minutes.

After I parked my car, he was waiting for me with the door open. Without a word, he handed me an ice-cold glass of Chablis.

“You look like you need this.”

I smiled. “More than I can say.”

He drew me into a bear hug and kissed me, teasing. “Do you need...something else, Babe?”

I broke the kiss and let out a deep sigh. “You know damn well what I need, so when the hell are you gonna give it to me?”

Grinning, David took my elbow and guided me into our bedroom. He took my wine glass as I gazed in surprise at a new addition to the furnishings.

What the hell is that thing? It looks like some kind of portable table, and it’s covered with a satin sheet. What is he up to? And how long am I going to have to wait to find out?

My lover sensed my thoughts. “This, Dear One, is a massage table, and I am going to rub and grind and pound all that tension and anxiety right out of you—and maybe do something else, too.” He drew me into his arms and kissed me again.

After a moment, he stepped back and began to unbutton my shirt. When he had it off, he reached for my belt buckle, but I decided to speed things up, pushing my shorts to the floor and kicking them aside.

David dropped to his knees and slipped my sandals off. He smiled up at me as he slid my briefs down and off. My hard cock popped up and almost hit him in the face, making us both laugh and relieving some of my tension.

“Now, Bruce, all you have to do is stretch out on that thing, with your face in that little hole at the top, and try to relax. I’ll take care of the rest.”

A thrill shook me as I did what David ordered. Once I was flat on the table, the worry and tension flowed from my body. Breathing deeply, my body hummed with anticipation for whatever he was going to do. I didn’t have to wait long.

His hands were warm and gentle, and he had moistened them with scented oil. He started with my feet, massaging the soles. I was surprised it didn’t tickle, but he was clearly experienced at what he was doing.

If he makes me feel this good, I can only imagine how the rest of me will react as works his way up to the top of my head.

He moved up to my ankles, squeezing and caressing them. His touch was so healing my muscles went limp as I relaxed inch by inch.

My lover-masseur began using his palms on the backs of my calves, pressing hard on each band of tense fibers. Moving up to my thighs, he used both hands to clench one leg, then the other. He gripped them, digging his fingers in deep to drive away the stiffness.

“Can you feel the toxins fleeing your body?”

“All I feel is like I’m floating, and nothing hurts any more.”

With a delighted laugh, he reached my butt and started massaging my glutes with a circular motion, one hand on each cheek. Pulling my cheeks apart, he exposed my hole. When I felt the cool air hit it, the dumb thing quivered with anticipation. I was dying for him to stick a finger—or something bigger—inside me right now.

He pressed his middle finger on my bunghole as if he had read my mind. The familiar digit swirled around and teased my pucker but went no further. He moved up to my lower back. That was where the most pain and stiffness was—except for my stiff cock which was squashed under my belly! Using circular motions, he found and rubbed away every kink and knot.

“Mmm. David, that’s exactly what I need.”

“I can tell, babe. All your stress and anxiety is knotted up in these muscles.”

“Are you gonna help me relieve all that?”

In response, he removed his hands and stepped back from the table. I peeked and saw him pulling his shirt over his head. When he slipped his shorts off, I saw with delight that he was hard, too.

My eyes closed as he took up a new position at the head of the massage table. Leaning over my head, he pressed from side to side and up and down my back and shoulders.

His perfect abs nestled the back of my head as he extended himself, reaching all the way down to my buttocks, and his warm hairless chest pressed down on my shoulders.

It felt right to keep my eyes shut, blocking out all light and letting my body enjoy the ministrations of David’s hands. But the temptation to open them won out, and an up-close view of his hard cock, millimeters from my face was my reward.

When I opened my mouth and drew it in, he moaned with pleasure. “Mmm. I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

I chuckled, “It can work both ways.”

He straightened and used his magic hands on the sides of my neck. The strong sensation of release almost made me come. I tried to keep his cock in my mouth, but it didn’t seem important to him that I did that, so I let it slide out. I closed my eyes and allowed all the pent-up tension to drain away.

David went back to the foot of the table. I heard him open a bottle and then rub his hands together. I smelled an exotic fragrance and felt the touch of his hands as he applied the ointment to my body. His firm, healing touch traveled from the backs of my toes up to the hairline on my head.

I wondered what was next, but my curiosity was soon satisfied. I was shocked and pleasantly surprised when he climbed onto the table and lay on me. His body covered every part of me, and he entwined his fingers among mine.

I wonder if he’s going to fuck me now.

Anticipating my question, he explained, “This is called Nuru massage. It’s a Japanese technique—erotic, but also very potent.”

“You can say that again!”

I lay at peace as he gyrated on top of me, his full weight pressing me down into the table. Every part of my lover—feet, hands, arms, legs, even his head—made repeated contact with the same parts of me.

This feels fantastic! It’s like he’s using all of himself, not only his hands, to give me a full body massage.

I shuddered when his hard cock began sliding up and down my ass crack

I wonder if he’s going to slip it in. I hope he does.

But instead, he got off and stood by the table again.

“Time to roll over on your back, Babe.”

Whatever you say, lover-man. I was tired of crushing my erection onto the table when you were on top of me—but I loved that part, too.

He came around and stood at my head again.

“Close your eyes.”

With a loving touch, he massaged my face, my forehead, around my eyes and cheeks, and then my ears. He lifted my chin and rolled my head back to massage my throat and the back of my neck.

His hands moved down to my nipples and then across my abs. I opened my eyes and saw that his erection was an inch above my face. With a smile, I opened my mouth and pulled it inside.

David whispered, “Fuuuck!”

It’s not easy to suck a cock upside down, but I had mastered the task and knew how to please him.

Resting his hands on my shoulders, he inquired, “How’s that feeling, Babe?”

“I’ll show you.”

I rolled back onto my stomach and inched up toward David, who stood at the top of the table with his hard cock aimed right at my face. I opened my hungry mouth enough to take the head in. Drawing my cheeks inward, I sucked his cock down my throat.

Despite his intention to remain in character for his role as my masseur, David couldn’t resist my expert cock-sucking skills. He began to slide his cock in and out of my mouth while his hands riffled through my hair as he applied light pressure to the back of my head.

Soon he was fucking my face for all he’s worth, and I sensed that the tide had turned from massage to sex. “Come up here and kiss me, Bruce.”

“My pleasure.” As I rose to my knees, I replaced my mouth with one hand and began stroking his hard-on as we hugged and kissed.

“Feeling better?”

“A lot, but one part of me is still filled with tension and pressure.”

“There is?” He smiled as though he didn’t believe it. “And where would that be?”

I swiveled around on my knees and bent forward. Using both hands, I spread my ass cheeks and presented them to David. “Can’t you guess?”

Come on now, David. Take all of me. Shove that monster cock that you were just choking me with all the way up inside me. I’m ready!

I stayed on my knees and put my weight on my forearms. I arched my back and turned to look at David, standing at the side of the massage table. He leaned in and kissed me, wrapping his arms around my chest.

With a wicked grin, he slid his cock up and down my crack. “Oh, I don’t think any guesswork is called for.” Without another word, he pressed against my hole and entered me. He gripped my chest, more to steady me than to control my actions.

Teasing me by entering in slow motion made me ache for a slam-bam crashing thrust that would nail me to the table. I decided to take charge. Pushing back hard against his erection, I rammed it deep inside myself. I realized he liked it because his breathing stopped and the two of us remained motionless, joined together in the special way that lovers know. Our bodies were one, linked by his penetration and my eager reception.

Unable to hold back, I rode his cock, pumping my hips back and forth. My lover—what he had been for three years now—countered my every maneuver, charging deep inside me as I surged against him and then withdrawing almost all the way as I retreated. David knew what I liked, so I was not surprised when he climbed up on the table behind me, keeping his hard-on buried in my ass. With a gentle touch, he guided me down onto my stomach again, taking control of our love-making

He must have been as horny as I was because he pounded me, roughly pursuing his release. With one final massive thrust, his body quivered with lust as he shot his load into my ass. He pounded me six or seven times, shouting “fuck” and “shit” repeatedly. Words that we use without thinking in everyday conversation take on a new meaning when they accompany the thrill of release and total connection. Spent, he began taking massive gulps of air. His body went limp on top of me and lay still, not moving as he had done during the Nuru massage.

After a while, he rose and got off the table. “Your turn now. Roll over, please.” He began to jack my cock, wetting it with his warm lips. I relaxed and lost myself in the erotic play.

I can’t say how long I was in that dream state, but at some point, I felt my balls tingle, then contract with sudden violence as I shot my load past my head. After the first spurt, David lowered his mouth around it and swallowed every pulsing ejaculation.

When I was spent, he rose and faced me. “So, I take it you like Nuru massage?”

I pulled him toward me and down into a kiss. I tasted my cum, mixed with his saliva. “I like whatever you want to do with me.”

David smiled as he stood up and helped me to my feet.

What just happened? My whole body is quaking, and I’m as weak as a newborn baby. I guess the massage not only relaxed me but also drained me of practically every drop of energy I had left in me.

My lover guided me to the bed, shrouding me with the soft, silky blanket as I stretched out. He pressed the button on the remote that closed the curtains without a sound and put one hand on my shoulder.

“You’ve had quite a day, Bruce, but you aced that thesis defense. So close your eyes and zone out, for as long as you want. If you’re up for it later, we’ll go out and have some dinner, but you don’t have to if you’d rather crash and sleep all night.

He leaned over and kissed my lips, tussling the hair on my forehead. I remember smiling at him, whispering “I love you.” Then my eyes closed, and the next thing I knew, morning had arrived.

I opened my eyes and blinked at the light. The drapes were open, and I was in David’s massive round bed, naked as usual. He was cuddled up against me, naked, the way we liked sleeping together.

I stretched and inhaled a deep breath. The bed wasn’t moving. The satin sheets on my bare skin felt so delightful.

I should go back to sleep. Nobody’s up this early. But I’m a morning person, so once I wake up, I’m going for the day.

I stretched again. Something hot and stiff was pressing on my back. I reached behind me and grasped David’s morning wood, guiding it inside me. He woke with a sigh and began slowly thrusting.

I love this man and everything about him, but the idea of something so long and thick going inside me and feeling so amazing still astounds me every time.

Our morning sex had always been gentle and protracted. We were never in a hurry, so we took it slow and easy. Once inside me, David would propel our sex until he brought me to the joyous moment of release. Minutes later, I was seated on top of him. My balls contracted and my juice spewed between us, smearing all over our bellies.

The contractions of my ass muscles brought David to his climax, and I felt the familiar flood of his cum inside me. I was so grateful that we had stopped using condoms about six months into our relationship. The fact that we were exclusive to each other confirmed my love for him. Slowly coming back down to earth, I reached up and put both arms around David, pulling his face to mine and giving him a loving kiss. He responded with his tongue and ran his hands through my hair.

With a deep sigh of contentment, David slid his dick out of my ass, releasing the gush of semen he had planted in me. I had often wondered what our housekeeper must think, having to change and wash the satin sheets every day because they were covered with dried-on cum, but I guess she was paid well enough for her not to have an opinion.

When I rolled off him, David sighed, turned to smile at me, and said, “Good morning, babe. I love you.”

I smiled back at him, “I love you more.”

We kissed, our tongues teasing, and bit each other’s lips. This was our morning ritual, at least when we were both home. After showering together, we often sat naked on the balcony with coffee and a bagel, enjoying the new day. I wonder whether the neighbors ever noticed us since it was early and they were either just waking up or out jogging somewhere. All I can say is no one ever said anything about the two bare-assed dudes sitting on their balcony drinking morning coffee.

“You’re still going to Honolulu today?” I asked, wishing his schedule might have changed.

“Fraid so. Gotta go kiss some executive ass to prove I’m earning the big bucks they pay me.” We both chuckled.

“Well, you’d better make sure the only ass you ever actually kiss is this one right here!” I leaned to the side and wiggled my butt in his direction.

“Don’t worry, Bruce. I’ll be the youngest person at the meeting, and nobody could even begin to compare with you. I’ll miss you every night and every morning.” He leaned over and kissed me.

We finished our coffees and went inside to dress—David in his business attire and me in the standard uniform of an engineering student at Stanford—chinos and a polo shirt.

David’s taxi arrived and we kissed goodbye at the door. I lingered a few more minutes, going into the bedroom and lying face-down on the bed, inhaling the heady masculine pheromones of my lover and the raw odor of the sex we enjoyed a couple of hours earlier.

********

I headed over to my own apartment, two buildings away, to pick up a few things I needed in classes during the day. As a senior, my course load wasn’t much since I had an internship for twenty hours a week with a local civil engineering company. They had offered to hire me when I graduated and got my license, but I planned to continue in grad school and get an MBA.

I had never pictured myself leading a surveying crew through some stinking swamp or poking around under decaying bridges. With a management degree on top of my other two and some more interning at one of the major firms like Boeing or Magnussen, I expected to work my way up the corporate ladder and start my own company in about ten years.

Of course, my parents had hoped I would join Dad’s company and run it someday, but I couldn’t live near them, under constant scrutiny—not to mention the pressure to marry and “keep the bloodline going.”

Rounding the corner, I noticed a nondescript black sedan parked in front of my building. An ominous sense of foreboding struck me. As I neared the front door, the driver’s door opened and a tall, Black man of about forty got out. When he approached me, I recognized him and felt a chill.

“Detective Buchanan!” I greeted him warily. “What brings you back here?”

He frowned at how loudly I had said his name. Brusquely shaking his head at me, he said, “Let’s talk inside, Mr. Hutton.” Gesturing to indicate I should move my ass and get off the street, he started to scare me a little.

Detective Lieutenant Winston Buchanan was the officer who investigated my freshman dorm roommate, Carl Baker—my former roommate who assaulted me and was arrested for selling drugs on campus. Out on bail, Carl bolted to Mexico or Central America, never to be seen again. With outstanding warrants waiting for him, he was unlikely to ever show his face here again. At least, that’s what Buchanan led me to believe. So what’s he doing here now?

Without another word, I led the way up the two flights of stairs to my landing, unlocked the door to my apartment, and started to enter. Stopping me with a hand on my shoulder, the policeman spoke with quiet authority, “Wait here.”

He unholstered his gun, raised it to his shoulder with his finger poised along the side of the barrel, and slipped past me into my apartment. I couldn’t hear him, but I saw his shadow from time to time as he executed a thorough search of my small home. Two minutes later, he returned and opened the door wide, nodding for me to come in.

“What the—” I began as he closed and locked the door.

“Please keep it down, Bruce. Let’s have a seat.” Buchanan led me to the couch and sat in the chair across from me.

“OK, dammit,” I said, “what the FUCK is going on?”

Buchanan frowned and his voice took on a somber tone. “Your old roommate, Carl Baker, has been spotted in the area. I’m sorry to have to tell you he’s back.”

“Carl is back? But I understood he would be arrested on sight if he tried to cross the border.”

“He would have been—if he had come crossed at a legal point of entry, but it’s easy to sneak across the border in any of a thousand places, and I would guess he did.”

“What does he want here that’s important enough to risk arrest for?”

“He’s probably here on business for one of the cartels, but we figure he’s still pissed at you for turning him in, and he might be planning to try to settle the score with you.”

“Dammit!” I exclaimed as a jolt of pure terror ran up my spine. “That bastard still blames me because he got caught with his drugs and cash hidden in our room? What the hell is the matter with him?”

“I would guess there’s mucho money involved—enough to make risking coming back worth it. I doubt he came back only to find you.” He paused. “But, as long as he’s here for some other shit, he might think it would be convenient to retaliate against you, even kill you.”

He let his words sink in. “The DEA tells me he’s grown into a major player in the Central American drug cartels, and I’m sure he’s got the resources to go after anybody he wants to.”

“So why wouldn’t he order a hit on me—isn’t that what you call it?”

“Yeah. And since he didn’t, it tells me this is personal. He wants to face you man-to-man.”

“Goddamn! You’re scaring the shit out of me, Detective.”

“It’s Winston, Bruce,” Buchanan told me, trying to lower the temperature of the conversation. “But you’re right—I’m trying like hell to get you to take this seriously.”

I stared at him, speechless. He consulted his watch. “You just coming home?”

“Uh, yes. I needed to pick up some books and things for classes today.”

“So, you aren’t staying here full-time?” He was obviously fishing for information.

I hesitated. “I guess you’ll find out anyway. Most of the time I stay with a friend who lives in another building here.”

“Name?”

“Why do you want his name? He’s not involved. He doesn’t even have any idea who Carl is.”

“I hope you’re right, and we’ll both rest a lot easier if you give me his name and we clear him from any involvement.”

I couldn’t come up with a reason not to tell him. “He’s David Liu. He sells insurance to rich pricks.”

Buchanan chuckled, “Well, that lets me out. Where is he right now?”

Checking my watch, I answered, “He boarded a flight to Honolulu five minutes ago. He’ll be gone all week at a business conference.”

“Nice gig—conferences in Hawai’i.”

“Now I wish I had gone with him!”

“So, you two are an item?”

I wanted to say it was none of his business, but he was a police detective, so I admitted, “We get together from time to time to have a little fun.”

He nodded in understanding. “Hmm. You might be safer staying at his place for a few days in case Carl finds out where you live.”

I was stunned to silence.

“Of course, if he was after you, it wouldn’t take him long to find the other apartment, since it’s right near here.”

“You’re making me extremely nervous, Detective...uh, Winston.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He paused. “Listen, Bruce. I’d like to keep your apartment under surveillance, at least until we understand why Carl is back here. It might have nothing to do with you. He might be setting up some kind of drug deal here.”

“Why am I not comforted by that thought?”

“Well, I’m trying to put your mind at ease, at least a little.”

“It’s not fucking working!”

“Again, sorry. So, what do you say I arrange to keep an eye on you? Will you be staying local while your...friend...is in Hawai’i?”

“There’s no reason to stay anywhere else.” I was being coy, not wanting to reveal that David and I lived together and slept in the same bed every night.

“Fine. You won’t ever see anybody watching you, but you can rest easy knowing they’re around.”

“Please don’t upset my neighbors or anything.”

“Don’t worry. They won’t know anything. We’re damn good at what we do.”

He gave me a grin that meant a hell of a lot more than his words said. I remembered his tender touch on my arm when I was in the hospital three years ago. I almost got a hard-on right then and there—his touch was like electricity.

Whoa! Hold on, Bruce! What’s this thing you’ve got for older men? But I couldn’t answer myself.

After explaining the procedure for signaling an emergency, Detective Winston Buchanan—hot cop, hunky dude, and arrogant prick—left me alone in my apartment.

********

The next morning, I opened the blinds in David’s apartment and peeked out. I couldn’t spot anyone I didn’t recognize in the pool area or nearby park. I dressed and cautiously left for class, still not seeing anyone or anything out of the ordinary.

I followed the detective’s instructions and took a route I had never used before. I would be doing a lot of that until Carl either left or got his ass arrested. But the longer this went continued, the more I questioned the trouble and hiding. I convinced myself it was much ado about nothing, imagining how I would tell off Detective Buchanan when I saw him again.

At that time of year, Hawai’i was three hours behind California time, so I waited for David to call each night before going to bed.

“Are you scared with that bastard Carl somewhere in town?”

“I was at first, but it’s beginning to get old. I think if he was going to do something, he would have tried it by now.”

“Shit, I wish I could be there with you.”

A lot of help you’d be, David. You couldn’t fight your way out of a paper bag! It's too bad your extensive education in sexual techniques didn't also include some martial arts.

“Thanks, babe, but I guess I’m safe enough with the police watching me all the time.”

“Are you sure that’s what they’re doing?”

“I hope so—”

In the brief silence, I thought I heard a cough in the background.

“Is somebody with you there?”

David hesitated a few seconds more than necessary. “Oh, yeah. One of my colleagues. We came up to have a drink before we go out with friends. The nightlife here in Maui is amazing. I wish you were here, babe.”

I thought a moment. “Me, too, David. I hope you’ll be home with me soon. I really miss the hell out of you.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, and then he said he had to go.

Am I imagining things? Why do I always think the worst? Of course, he has to go out with business colleagues. That’s how he works his way up the ladder of success. I can’t begrudge him that.

********

Leaving the Engineering Building at lunchtime a few days later, I turned a corner and almost collided with a tall Black man in a dark suit. Surprised, I said, “Well if it isn’t Sherlock Fucking Holmes!”

Buchanan smiled at me. “I wanted to reassure you we’re keeping tabs on you.”

“We?” I demanded, “or just you, once in a while, so I’d believe the load of horse manure you handed me about protecting me from Carl?” I was seething. “Did you make it all up? Is he really here somewhere?”

Looking offended, the detective said to me, “Listen, Bruce...”

“That’s Mr. Hutton.”

“OK. Listen, Mr. Hutton. Like I said, all we know is that Carl is back in the area. Nobody and say whether he’s here to sell drugs, or recruit for his cartel, or beat the living shit out of you.”

He frowned, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I thought—for your own safety—you should be warned about him, and I also believed we owed it to you to try to protect you in case he does want to do you harm.”

I was pissed. “Well, Detective, I haven’t seen a single sign that you or any of your force are ‘keeping an eye’ on me.”

He laughed. “And if you did, what would you think? That we’re a bunch of Keystone Kops? You’re not supposed to see anybody—and neither is that asshole, Carl. If you spot us, we’ve failed!”

Stymied, I mumbled, “Well, whether you’re there or not, I definitely don’t feel safe.”

To my surprise, Buchanan regarded me with something approaching compassion. “I’m sorry about that, Mr. Hutton...”

I softened. “You can call me Bruce.”

“Thanks, Bruce. I realize this isn’t easy for you, and if I were you, I’d be scared shitless and thoroughly pissed off at the police, but I’m pretty sure this’ll all be over in a couple of days.”

Resting a reassuring hand on my shoulder, he added, “Carl has to be aware he’s risking his ass by being here, so I guess he wasn’t given a choice in the matter. He’ll be eager to get whatever his business is over and done with, and high-tail it back over the border faster than the fucking Roadrunner.”

Buchanan withdrew his hand, swallowed hard, and smiled shyly. “I’m afraid we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, and I’m sorry for my part in it. It’s my job to be a hard-ass, and sometimes I forget that the public is not supposed to be on the receiving end of that.”

“It’s OK, Detective.”

“Winston.”

I smiled back. “Winston. Listen, I’m sorry I’m being such a jerk about this. And you’re right. I’m nervous about the whole damn thing. Listen, I am grateful for your protection. I–I wish I felt safer. With whoever is watching me all but invisible, it’s hard to have much confidence that everything is all right.”

He put a hand on my shoulder, causing me to jump in surprise.

“Can we call a truce? You go on living your life, and let me do my job?”

Stepping back to remove his hand from my shoulder, I snapped, “Whatever.” I turned and hurried away.

I heard him whisper “asshole” behind my back and ignored him.

********

The following few days were uneventful, but I was still on edge at every waking moment. I kept trying to convince myself that, even though I couldn’t see anyone, the police were keeping a close eye on me. I went out of my way to be obvious about my movements and location, fearful I might lose my “tail.” After a week, I started to relax a little.

David had phoned to say he would be in Honolulu longer than planned, but he promised to call right away when he was coming home. I decided to accept an invitation to a kegger at a nearby dive my fellow students and I considered our second home. I needed some way to unwind, and relaxing with friends fit the bill.

I returned to my apartment, changed into some glad rags, and set my mind on drinking and partying into the wee hours of the morning.

If I tie one on tonight, I won’t have to think about David or Carl or Buchanan, or any of them for a couple of hours at least.

The evening was pleasantly warm with a full moon, and I walked the familiar sidewalks with a bit more spring in my step than I had managed over the past several days. I was almost beginning to relax and believe that the threat was over.

I stopped at a corner, waiting for the WALK light, and a familiar voice behind me growled, “How you doin’ motherfucker?”

I froze, a chill running down my spine. The raspy smoker’s voice was unmistakable: Carl!

I started to turn, but something hit me hard in the back of the head. I fell to my knees and landed on my chest. Groggy, I turned and saw someone leaning over me with a shiny-bladed knife in one hand. I blacked out.

********

The concrete was cold and rough. I tasted dirt in my mouth, and my head was spinning and pounding at the same time. Remembering the knife and Carl’s sudden appearance, I writhed, trying to stand up and run.

“Whoa, buddy. Take it easy, Bruce.” The familiar voice expressed concern.

“Wha?” I croaked.

“Don’t move till the medics get here.”

I opened my eyes and tried to focus. A three-headed Black man was spinning in circles about a foot from my face. I panicked, but as the three heads merged into one, I recognized concern on the face of Detective Winston Buchanan.

“Carl?” I managed to squeak out.

“His worthless ass is on the way to the station. He won’t make bail this time, and, on top of the ten to twenty he was already looking at for the drugs, he now has assault and battery with intent to do bodily harm and attempted murder on his rap sheet. The son of a bitch isn’t going to bug you ever again.”

I tried to smile my gratitude, but everything was so fuzzy I couldn’t wrestle my face into the right configuration. Soon, I was in the back of an ambulance, headed for the hospital. The scene was eerily familiar. I had taken the same ride the day Carl attacked me and got arrested for drugs.

Later, in a private room with the lights turned down low, I began to piece together what had happened. Carl must have found out where I lived and waited for me to come out. Convincing myself I was safe, I had thrown caution to the wind, walked down my street, and stood in the open, waiting for the light. He must have appeared from some bushes or somewhere nearby. He clubbed me from behind with something and came at me with the knife. I shuddered at the terrifying memory.

Detective Buchanan had filled in a few more details. His men were also watching my every move. They reported to him that I had stopped observing the precautions they had taught me. Buchanan himself was about ten yards behind me, keeping to the shadows. He saw Carl jump me and pull out the switchblade to end my life. So he tackled the asshole, cuffed him, and smashed his head into the concrete pavement a couple of times to make it clear he’d better not resist.

I was released from the hospital the next morning, which was Saturday, and told to stay in bed until Monday at the earliest. I wasn’t in any condition to object. A police cruiser was waiting at the hospital entrance to give me a ride home, and I thanked the officer and invited him in for coffee, but he said it was his pleasure and he was on duty.

I hesitated at the door, remembering how Buchanan had checked my apartment before he would allow me in. Then I remembered that my nemesis was in jail, where I hoped he would spend the rest of his worthless life. Entering the apartment, the first thing that caught my eye was the blinking light on my answering machine. After I punched in the code to listen, my heart skipped a beat. The voice was my beloved David’s.

“Bruce—” the recording began. “Bruce...oh, shit, Bruce!” I was confused. Had David learned about Carl attacking me? Had something bad happened to him in Hawai’i?

He took several deep breaths, and it sounded like he took a long swallow of something—expensive Chardonnay, I guessed.

“Bruce...I just have to say it, goddammit!” Now my knees were weak and my stomach was churning.

This can’t be good.

“OK, here it is... I ran into an old friend in Maui this week—somebody I used to work with.” He hesitated before confessing, “He’s somebody I used to date.”

My blood ran cold as his voice droned on.

“The long and the short of it is that he’s got his own company, out here, and he’s invited me to be a partner and to run my own line of insurance—”

A long silence followed. “So...I’m not coming back. I’ll bunk with him until I get my own place set up, but the job starts right away, so I can’t make it back to say good-bye to you. I’m s–”

I don’t know what else he said because, at that point, I threw the answering machine across the room, smashing it to pieces.