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