jobs and perfect weather.” Stephen laughed as he touched his glass to Eddie’s. “Welcome to San Diego.”
“And to friendly men.” Stephen scanned the busy roof. “You know the bartender?”
“You interested in Lance? I’ll introduce you. He’s a great guy—smart too—has a goal of getting a Ph.D. in nuclear physics—or molecular biology, somethin’ brainy like that.” Eddie’s slight buzz was just enough to override his rule against divulging friends’ personal information.
“Really? He looks too sexy to be that intelligent.”
“He showed up about five years ago. I think I was on my second tour here—I mean it was the second time I worked in San Diego.” Eddie cursed inwardly for his slip. The distinction was that when civilians “toured,” they went on a tour, as in going on a tour of the Sistine Chapel while on vacation, as he and Ray had done years earlier. When they changed jobs, though, civilians “moved” or “relocated.” It was a stupid mistake and he should’ve known better.
If Stephen caught Eddie’s sudden word change, he didn’t let on. “I left Michigan at seventeen. Like a fucking idiot, I moved to Baltimore to live with a cousin. All the places in America, I had to move to goddamned Baltimore.”
Eddie liked laughing again. “Good old seventeen. We’re expected to make all these life-changing decisions at the very age when we’re least capable of making them.”
“Ain’t it ironic? What life-changing decision did you make at seventeen?”
Eddie had set a trap for himself. At seventeen he’d joined the Navy. Maybe it would be easier to trust Stephen with the truth than to continue the game. Loose lips sink ships. The mantra repeated itself in his mind and he decided the game was safer. “Ran away from home.”
“Where’d you run to?”
Eddie stared at Stephen for a moment to determine if he was nosy or genuinely interested. It was a thin line but he settled on the latter. “Florida for a while. Then Virginia. After that I went to Europe and then here—twice.” He omitted his stint in Japan because that would be a dead giveaway. Few Americans—and no African-Americans he knew—ever ran away to Japan.
“That’s a lot of running.”
“You’re right,” Eddie said, sipping his martini. “But this is home now.”
Several minutes of comfortable silence passed. “You haven’t said your name.”
“You never asked.”
“Didn’t want to pry.” Stephen’s smile was coy. “If you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”
“That’s mighty polite of you. It’s Ed.” He chose the name he always gave new acquaintances. After Stephen spent time with his friends, Ed would become “Eddie.”
The music changed and the volume increased. Eddie scowled at a video screen when a dance-techno group played a song he didn’t like. “Thought we’d be away from this music here.”
Stephen moved in, his body touching Eddie’s. “Wanna go someplace where we can choose our own music?” he whispered. Eddie bristled. In the world of gay men, Stephen’s question always meant one thing and only one thing. Perhaps it was the same between men and women, but among gay men, it was gospel truth. Wanna go someplace translated directly to Let’s fuck.
“Stephen, you’re a very good-lookin’ man, I’m just not into anything sexual. Haven’t been for a while. Probably won’t be in the near future. Nothing to do with you. Back in my day, I woulda been all over you.”
“Back in your day’? You’re young.” Stephen rattled the ice in his empty soda glass. “I’m not looking for sex. I’m new in town. Just looking for friends, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” Eddie had heard this line before but judging from Stephen’s face, he was sincere or a great actor. He decided to violate his rule against bringing strangers home. “I’m ready to go and I don’t live far. You can follow me to my house if you’d like to come over and talk for a half hour or so.” In a tougher tone he added, “But I mean it, Stephen. I’m not interested in sex. If that’s what you’re after, there are a lot of guys in this place who’d oblige you.”
“I hear you, Ed. No sex. Been around the block enough times to know the value of my currency in the meat market. Not being vain when I say I could hook up with ninety percent of these guys if I wanted—just being realistic.” Looking at Eddie intently, he explained, “What you and your friends have—that’s what I want. It’s what I had in Baltimore. I almost didn’t move ’cause I didn’t want to leave my friends. It’s hard to find quality people.”
“How d’you know we’re quality people? I think we are. But you don’t know that.”
“It’s what I want to find out—why I want to get to know people outside of bars. Come to a place like this, meet nice people, get to know them someplace else.”
Eddie liked Stephen. What he said made sense and Eddie felt that perhaps he’d make a good friend and addition to their little family. He wasn’t a military person but being in the service wasn’t a requirement—it just happened that way most of the time. “Sorry if I implied you’re just another horn-dog but come on—it’s almost last call at WC’s.” Stephen laughed, his nod communicating Eddie had nothing to apologize for.
“Y’all ready for this?” said a voice on the television.
Eddie smiled at Stephen and said, “I’m ready if you are.”
8
“I thought you two might fuck on top of the bar.”
“Sorry, sport. I’m not you,” said Don to his friend in his jeep’s passenger seat.
“That’s right.” Karl laughed. “Forgot I told you how, at the end of Lance’s shift, I’d pull his jeans down and flip him over the bar. He’d get off work then we’d both get off! Damn, I miss that ass. Too bad it’s attached to someone so needy.”
“Of course you told me. You used to tell me everything, remember?”
Karl was quiet for a few minutes but it was too dark for Don to see his facial expression and tell what he was thinking. “I tell you—like, I told you about those two behind Peacock Alley.”
“That was nine months ago. Buddy, it’s your life. No law says you gotta tell me about your business. But for three years you hooked up with a lot of guys and you always gave me the gritty details. Lately you haven’t said shit about anyone. Makes me wonder, that’s all.”
“Fuck you. You get on my case for too much sex. Now you’re telling me I don’t have enough. What the fuck?”
Karl’s sudden outburst caught Don by surprise. Because he was still enraptured by his experience with Patrick, he wasn’t up for a verbal brawl. “Forget it. Sorry I upset you.” He reached across the interior of the jeep and gave his friend a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.
“I’m not upset. It’s just—it’s just there are some things—things I can’t tell you.”
Karl’s comment was alarming. “You can tell me anything. I thought you knew that.” He diverted his eyes from the darkened interstate long enough to see Karl look out the passenger’s side window into the night air.
“No, Don,” Karl sighed. “I want to, but there are some things I can’t tell even you.”
Jay’s simple plan was to earn the Sailors’ and Marines’ respect by passing himself off as something similar to a serviceman—a cop, a fireman or a security guard. He didn’t speak the military’s language with its thousands of unique phrases, acronyms and abbreviations. Only the men and women who endured the armed forces’ intense initiation rituals were fluent in what he thought of as mil-speak.