Miami Manhunt. Johnny Diaz

and the other on Richard. There’s something about this guy. I’ve never seen him out. He seems to be passionate about books and writing. There’s an unassuming twinkle in his blue eyes. He must work out or at least run, because his calves are well-defined, so tight that I could just bite into them. He seems a little older, but maybe that is what I need, a mature guy, not these club twinks or fame fuckers.

      “If you go to the cashier, you’ll be able to buy some of these books new or used. Thank you all for coming, and I look forward to meeting with you again,” Richard says, getting up and shaking each of our hands. “Feel free to hang out here and get to know each other.”

      As the other guys pull away in different directions, I use this chance for some one-on-one time with Richard. He smiles as he sees me head his way.

      “Thank you for coming out Ted,” he says, standing in the middle of the circle of chairs as the other guys head to the cashier to buy the two books. Ray waits for me in the romance section, and he points up at the sign and starts laughing.

      “Thank you, Richard. I can’t wait to read these two books. I’m a big reader, you know.”

      Ray hears me and pretends to gag his finger into his mouth without Richard noticing.

      I turn around and glare at him to stop it and then regain my composure to flirt with this Magnum, P.I. silvery clone.

      “I see you all the time on Channel 7 doing your news stories and Deco Time. Maybe you can do a story on the book club one day and show people that South Floridians do enjoy a good book now and then and we’re not all about the beach and the bars,” Richard says, leaning closer to me.

      “That sounds like a good story idea. Maybe down the road once the club finds its rhythm,” I say to him, paralyzed by his eyes and his friendly presence. I can see Richard and me having dinner one night on South Beach, taking a long walk along the seawall on Ocean Drive, maybe even having a picnic at Vizcaya’s lush gardens. As I drift deeper into the daydream imagining him hugging Max in my house, I hear his voice summoning me from the dream.

      “Ted…Ted…are you with me?” he says, and oh yes, I’d love to be with him I think to myself.

      “Yeah, still here.”

      “Well, it was nice meeting you. I have to go help some customers and make some phone calls on some orders in the back. Thank you for coming, and we’ll see you next month,” Richard says as Enya softly begings her Orinoco Flow on the store’s speakers. I haven’t heard this song in ages. I shake his hand firmly again.

      “Yeah, same here. See you soon.”

      He walks off and thanks Ray and the other guys for coming as well.

      Ray walks toward me with a mischievous look on his face.

      “So I guess you scored at Books & Books,” Ray says, carrying his two books around in his arms as if he was in high school. Ray really does have this boyish thing about him. Because of his black hair, blue eyes, and slight build, he reminds me of a real-life, adult version of Pinocchio but one who smokes Marlboro Lights.

      “Well, not exactly. He didn’t ask me out or anything. The way I see it, I can win him over with my deep understanding of gay fiction. It will be like reading books for our lit courses at UM all over again.”

      “Don’t you mean gay dick-tion, Ted?” Ray teases, making a phallic gesture with his tongue and the side of his cheek.

      “Yeah that too Cuban boy! Did you like any of the guys from the book club?” I ask, standing behind Ray at the cashier.

      “No one is really my type. I can’t imagine bringing any of these guys back to my parents’ house.” Now I’m rolling my eyes at Ray.

      “Just because you can’t picture it doesn’t it mean it can’t happen. Look, I found Richard to be interesting. Maybe you can find one of the other guys interesting too,” I say, as Ray pays the elderly woman working the register.

      “What are you, the gay Yoda?”

      “No, just a friend who wants you to give someone a chance for once,” I say.

      “We’ll see Ted. We’ll see,” Ray answers. When he doesn’t know how to respond to something, he says “It depends,” or “We’ll see.” They’re his diplomatic answers for any situation, and you know what? It works.

      “I’m looking forward to reading the Tommy Perez book. I’ve never read Hispanic gay fiction before. His picture is cute too. Now see, Ted, this is my kinda guy. Young, Cuban, a writer. Too bad I never had a chance to meet him when he was at the News. People think everyone knows each other at the paper, but it’s like one big city with bureaus all over the county and Broward. So sometimes, we meet other writers and editors by accident.”

      “Well Ray, maybe your fellow cubanito writer may come down and do a book reading or something here since he’s from here,” I say, paying for my two books.

      “We’ll see. We’ll see,” Ray says. And with that, we leave Books & Books and head back outside in the unforgiving Sunday heat to my BMW. We both put our sunglasses back on.

      “Gilbert’s Bakery?” Ray asks, as soon as he hops back into the passenger seat.

      “Definitely,” I say, as I pull away from Andalusia Avenue and head to Gilbert’s. The whole drive there, I notice Ray skimming the Perez book as if it were a lost treasure he just discovered. I really do think he’s going to like it as will I. But I have something else sweet on my mind besides the Cuban pastries, and his name is Richard.