Porcupines - 2. Chapter 2 - The Thief in the Night

Chapter 2 - The Thief in the Night

“There’s a new table at B-6,” Lynora growled to Dylan as she passed by on the way to the kitchen. The restaurant had been crazy busy ever since he’d come in a 5:30 that evening. It was only seven now but Lynora was being pissy. She had a date tonight and it wasn’t looking like she’d get out of there any time soon. Dylan hoped she’d leave soon; her mood wasn’t too pleasant tonight. But, he was glad it was busy because Lynora hadn’t had a chance to ask him about the previous night. He’d chalked it up to a Bad Date and tried let it go. He figured it was the cost of being single.

“We’re still on a wait,” he heard her say from the kitchen. Dylan rushed over to the new table and greeted them warmly. His foul mood from last night had dissipated along with his throbbing headache and sense of embarrassment. Dylan made it home about three in the morning. His stomach had rumbled with post-drunken distress and his head hurt but at least he was comfortable in his own bed. Dylan slept fitfully and woke up sad. So much for a real man of substance. He had met up with another coupled loser who was only looking for a piece of tail. His walk of shame had felt terrible but it wasn’t anything the waiter hadn’t endured before. He was just glad he’d seen the ring. He didn’t want to be in a twisted situation like that again. After a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, Dylan shrugged off the night’s festivities and was ready to face his boring job. Well, at least he had one.

“Can I get you a drink from the bar or one of our delicious sweet tea drinks?” Dylan asked the couple at B-6. After taking their order, he went over to Kenny to get their beverages. Kenny was a dreamboat. The kind of guy Dylan would love to catch but is unfortunately as straight as they come. The bartender was taller than Dylan’s 5’7” by at least a half a foot. He had dark brown hair, brilliant blue eyes, and built like a model with an ass that didn’t quit. However, as attractive as he was, Kenny knew it. That is both his blessing and his curse. He could rock the ladies but sometimes that made him a bit arrogant around others. It was both endearing and infuriating.

“Dylan,” Kenny leaned over. “We don’t have any Jacobsen merlot. It’s on the 86 board. Can’t you read?” His eyes were flashing.

The waiter ignored his insult. “Check behind you dumbass,” Dylan quipped. When he got to the restaurant, Dylan found an errant case of the said merlot in the liquor room. He’d brought it up to the bar, stocked it, and erased it from the board. Kenny had been schmoozing a couple of young girls at a table. He hadn’t responded when Dylan told him about it.

“What the hell...?” Kenny looked at the wine bottles behind him. “I thought we were out.” He said with a subtle hint of pink on his beautiful cheeks. He grabbed a bottle, ratcheted it open and spun around to seize a wineglass. The waiter could tell Kenny was even more annoyed at his oversight than Lynora was in general. He didn’t like being wrong, especially with Dylan. Dylan never could figure out why. “Fine,” he said gruffly and placed two glasses on the wait station. “Here it is. Drink in good health.”

“I’m sure they will,” Dylan answered taking the two glasses and putting them on his tray with some napkins. “If you weren’t so busy trying to pickup some underage girls, you’d have time to stock your bar.”

“Nothing illegal about those girls,” Kenny smirked. “But, I wonder what you were up to last night at 3:00 in the morning sitting at a bus stop crying your eyes out. I would’ve given you a ride but you looked like last night’s hash warmed over.”

Dylan looked at his grinning, infuriating face and steeled himself. “Better get that chew outta your cheek Kenny or Lynora will kick your ass.”

“Better kicked than screwed like yours was last night,” he whispered. “Glass houses…”

Dylan took the wineglasses and retreated. He cursed himself for ever opening up to that asshole. A few weeks ago they’d had a few cocktails and he’d opened up to the bartender about his nocturnal transgressions. Now the bartender was throwing it in his face. Kenny was a devastatingly handsome guy so he’d let his guard down. Dylan was now paying the price for his openness.

Lynora got out of there about a half hour later. The restaurant was still busy but not so crazy she needed to stick around. The entire staff all relaxed a little after she left. The evening flowed well and Dylan made great tips. Kenny’s behavior also improved and the two of them all got along better.

His friend and occasional coworker Sarah stopped by after she got off from working her second job at the Gap. Dylan chatted with her at the bar. “So, any luck last night?” she asked around the Cosmo she was drinking.

“Naw. Just relaxed and danced a little. Nothing much was going on. I’m not really up for country music.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she said taking another sip. “Kenny said you were at the bus stop early this morning.”

“Someone has a big mouth,” Dylan said looking at the busy bartender whose luscious rear was sticking up while he washed some glassware. “But, Gawd, he has a nice ass.” Sarah looked too. She nodded in agreement but wasn’t distracted by Dylan’s attempt to change the subject.

“Bars close at two, what were you doing?”

“I picked up a guy. He was a drunken loser with a husband. I was just going home.”

“Kenny said it looked like you were crying,” she said placing her hand on her friend’s.

“I wasn’t crying,” Dylan said sharply. “I was just kinda drunk and it wasn’t my finest hour.”

“You need to find a nice guy.”

“Now you sound like Lynora. She’s always telling me to find a ‘nice boy and settle down.’ I just don’t know if that is possible. Stop making me feel bad,” Dylan said suddenly, pulled his hand away. “I just think there aren’t any good guys left.”

“Of course there are,” she said and patted the waiter’s hand again. “Maybe they’re just hiding in plain sight.”

Dylan shook his head and went back to the wait station. He wanted to forget about last night, his empty bed, and his empty life. The waiter began filling sugar caddies and blanked out his mind. What he really needed was a good, calm night of sleep without worrying about things.

The restaurant and bar emptied out and Dylan closed the place. After counting the money and putting it into the safe, he turned out the lights and returned to the bar for an after shift drink with the other closers. They chatted a bit about the busy night and the crazies they’d met that evening. One by one the staff left until it was just Dylan and Kenny. The bartender was having a second beer and looked over at the redheaded man. “Sorry about busting your balls earlier. I was just bugged you mentioned those girls. They weren’t underage and Lynora had been on my case about it too.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t in the best mood either. Friends?” Dylan said extending his hand.

“Friends,” the bartender responded and took his hand. “So what was up with you last night? I was going to stop but you looked so, I don’t know, forlorn, I didn’t want to intrude.”

Dylan found his gin and tonic especially interesting at that moment. He stirred it and cleared his throat. “Just another lonely night,” he said cryptically. “It was late. I was tired. I was just feeling sorry for myself.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” Kenny said. “Happens to the best of us. Sometimes I get a little down myself. But, I don’t let it get to me. Life’s too short.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said and took a drink. “And sometimes it feels too long.” He wondered about what made Kenny feel down. He knew the guy had gone to school for web design but couldn’t find a job. He mostly hung out with artistic types. Dylan imagined Kenny felt he wasn’t making a life for himself either. He was just existing with his flirting and living from bartending shift to shift. Both men had that in common. The two sat in comfortable silence with their own thoughts.

Kenny tossed back the last of his brew and said his good night. Dylan just listened to the door shut behind him and finished his drink. He figured he’d go home and listen to some music or watch a little T.V. Some down time would feel good. Even alone would be okay tonight.

Dylan turned off the rest of the lights and grabbed his stuff. He locked the door behind him and looked at the darkened mall. It was gloomy. He felt gloomy. Shadows seemed to move about the place as the outside lights and the shimmer of the moon changed with the passing clouds and cars. The lonely man stood for a moment in the gloom and sighed. ‘Enough feeling sorry for myself. I’m getting maudlin,’ Dylan said to the shadows.

He pushed the latch on the mall doors to go outside. The parking lot was silvery, bathed in both natural and artificial lights. Dylan saw a shadow move toward him. “Give me your wad,” a low voice said and Dylan felt a fist hit his cheek. “Whaaaa…” the waiter managed to get out as another fist hit him from the other side.

“Give me your fucking money. I know you got a wad of cash. Hand it over,” the voice said and it stank like cheap whiskey.

Dylan reached into his pocket and the hand was replaced with something sharp poking him in the neck. “Here,” he said throwing the money at the shadow. “Take it. Just don’t hurt me.”

The shadow pushed him into the door. Dylan banged his head and felt a trickle run down his cheek. Then, it all went dark and the silver disappeared. The last thing he heard was the sound of feet running away from him.

Moments later…

“Hey, what happened to you?” Dylan heard a voice and felt he was being shaken. He opened his eyes and an impossibly white face with pale lips and light blue eyes was there. He jumped, scared, shaking. “Holy shit, you’re bleeding,” the face said. He had a pencil thin line of hair under his jaw and an absurd sprinkling of hair on his upper lip. Was this the mugger? Dylan heard himself squeal in fear.

“Did you get mugged?” The guy asked and squatted down so the two were on the same level. Dylan’s back was against the glass door to the mall. He was sitting up and his head and face hurt. He just hurt. That was the only word to describe it.

“I need to call an ambulance for you,” the mouth said. Dylan shook his head wildly.

“Don’t have insurance. I can’t afford it.” At least his brain was working somewhat. The pinched face just stared at him. It was slowly registering what it was seeing.

“I gotta call the police,” he said. He didn’t move. He was just looking at the injured man. Dylan then noticed it was the mall cop he’d seen yesterday. His mouth was set in a grimace. He reached over to touch his forehead and Dylan moved away from him.

“I didn’t see who did this,” Dylan said. “It was just a shadow.” He moved and felt the moisture on his cheeks again. Dylan touched it and looked. It was blood. “Help me up,” he said to the pinched face with the smattering of facial hair one associates with a redneck. Or a young white gangbanger. But, this man had on the gold badge and dark uniform of a mall cop. His face looked young but the skin around his eyes was bruised and wrinkled at least that’s what Dylan saw. His eyes looked old.

“You need an ambulance and the police,” the guard said again. He just stared at the waiter and his pale icy blue eyes showed concern.

Dylan started crying at that recognition. His lips became thin lines. “Please, I just wanna go home. I’m not hurt that bad. I can’t tell the police anything. What a fucking horrible life,” Dylan exclaimed.

The mall cop just stared. Then, without a word, he stood up. “I’ll get you home,” he said and reached down to the weeping guy. Dylan grasped his hand and he pulled the redhead upright. Dylan’s head throbbed as he became vertical.

“Oh, God,” Dylan said as he swayed.

The mall cop reached out and steadied him. “You can’t drive,” he said. He leaned over and looked into his eyes. Dylan was struck by how icy, cold and steady they were. His face was also expressionless now. His arms were strong though as he held onto the waiter’s shoulders. “I’ll drive you home. At least let me do that,” the guard said. Dylan nodded though it hurt to do so.

The mall cop put his arm around the waiter’s shoulder and he gestured toward the parking lot. There were only a couple cars left in the almost empty lot and they found Dylan’s Dodge Dart without much trouble. He handed the security guard his keys and he helped Dylan into the passenger seat. The redhead felt dazed. Dylan told him his address and the guard got into the driver’s seat. The wounded man lay back on the seat and blackness enveloped him again.

… Dylan awoke when the car stopped. They were at his apartment building. The mall cop was looking at him, scowling. “I should take you to the hospital,” he said and reached over to the other man’s injured face.

Dylan turned away from him and without notice began to cry again. Hot streaking tears spilled over onto his cheeks. “I told you, I don’t have insurance and I don’t have any money.” Dammit, this guy was infuriating, Dylan thought.

“Fine, I’ll help you get inside,” and the guard unbuckled his seatbelt. He came around the car and opened the passenger door. Dylan stepped out and almost fell. The mall cop’s arms went around the injured man and held him up. Dylan sobbed into his golden badge. They stood there for a minute.

Then, Dylan pushed him back. “Just give me my keys and I’ll get inside myself.” Those were the words Dylan used but not how he felt. He was scared. He was hurting. Dylan just wanted someone to help him. Anyone. He wanted someone to make things alright again.

“Nope, I’m getting you inside before I go back to the mall,” the guard said and gingerly pulled his arm. Dylan let him lead to the front door. He opened it and the guard followed him up two flights of stairs to his apartment door.

Dylan opened the door and turned to him, “I’m really okay now. Thank you for helping me home. I just need to wash up and crawl into bed.” But, his injuries betrayed him and he began falling forward.

The guard once again just steadied Dylan and walked him into his apartment. “You may have a concussion,” he said and sat Dylan down on the couch. “Where is your bathroom?” Dylan pointed the way and the man disappeared. He sat there and tears began to leak out again. What the hell was wrong with him?

The guard returned with a washcloth and began wiping his forehead and cheeks carefully. His icy blues appraised Dylan’s face as he cleaned him up. Those eyes didn’t look as cold now. They even looked concerned and caring.

Without a word, the guard stood and walked to the kitchen which was open to the living room. He dug around in the freezer and returned with a bag of frozen peas. “Hold this on your eye. You’re gonna have a real shiner in the morning,” he said and rubbed his shoulder.

Dylan held the cold, lumpy bag to his right eye. It felt good on his throbbing head. “I better go now,” the guard said beginning to stand. “How will you get back?” Dylan asked him. He was pouting. He didn’t want him to leave. Dylan was trembling as the post-mugging fear rose in his throat. His feeling of neediness had overcome his pride. All he wanted was the man to hold him and make it all better. Dylan’s fear was that great at the moment.

“Hoof it back I guess,” the guard said hitching up his pants. He was very thin and almost rangy. His arms were ropy without an ounce of extra flesh. Dylan knew he was strong though. He’d felt that and he needed his strength right now. Dylan’s eyes began leaking again. Must have been the frozen peas.

“I’ll pay for a cab,” Dylan said trying to get up. He felt nausea hit.

“You need to get into bed,” the guard said. He slowly helped the other man get up.

‘Should I go to bed? What if I have a concussion and don’t wake up? Wasn’t that a danger? But, I just wanted to sleep.’ Dylan thought, confused. Waves of exhaustion were flowing over him. His exhaustion was worse than his neediness now.

The mall cop helped Dylan get up slowly and walked him to his bedroom. Dylan threw the bag of peas on the floor and crawled up onto the mattress. “Please lock the door on your way out.”

The guard stood and looked at the hurt man. Then, he walked over and started unbuttoning Dylan’s shirt. He helped Dylan get his shoes off and then his pants. Dylan tried to help but he was now feeling so sleepy he couldn’t do much. He whimpered as the other man helped him. There was something about him that was so warm and sweet. Why was he helping Dylan so much? The injured man didn’t really care about the why. All he felt was safe again. The fear was close by but the guard kept it away.

Dylan closed his eyes as he lay on the bed. Dylan felt the covers coming down over him. He turned on his side and the world disappeared.