A Champion for Tinker Creek, page 2
“Ahem,” he said.
“Oh, Mr. Porter, look, Manny’s home.”
“I can see that, yes. Hello, son.”
“Dad.”
“Rosa, Manny’s here for an interview, so please hold my calls until it’s over. Can you stay for lunch, Manny?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Rosa, please call Alfredo’s and make a reservation for three, if you can join us, of course.”
“Yes, Mr. Porter.”
Turning to me, he motioned to the inner office. “Shall we get started?” He walked behind his desk and directed me to one of the deep chairs facing it. I began to sit down when he held up his hand.
“Let me get a look at you,” he said. “You’ve added a little bit to your height.”
“I just learned to stand up straight.”
“Put some muscle on too, I see.”
“A little. Nothing extreme, but I like to stay fit.”
“Well, I’m not going to jump around the room, but it’s good to see you. Your mother will be ecstatic.”
I shifted my stance slightly and sat down. “About that…” I started to say.
“Don’t bother. I’ve already had a talk with her about your moving back in with us. You don’t want to do that, do you?”
“God, no.”
“Good. Any other personal details?”
“You’re looking good,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m okay, I guess. I stopped smoking except one cigar on Sundays. Cut my drinking back to weekends only. Doc says my cholesterol is not bad, my blood pressure is on the high side of normal, and my heart beats like a machine. Can’t do much about my hair, though.”
“I wouldn’t sweat it, Dad. You actually rock the bald.”
“Thanks. Your mother says she likes it too, so I guess it’s a consensus. Now, are we done with the personal?”
“Yes.”
“So, now I am officially putting on my publisher hat.”
“Okay.”
“You know how I feel about nepotism. If I didn’t believe you had skills and talent independent of being my son, you wouldn’t be sitting there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, because I want to be clear about that. I know we haven’t communicated a lot, but I have been following your work, and I don’t mind telling you that I am eager to hire you. But I don’t want either you or the paper to be open to the charge that you got the job because of your last name.”
I nodded.
“Okay, I have a couple of things. You’re going to start in business. Then if you can show through your stories that you belong on the beat in the first six weeks, we’ll keep you there,” Porter said. “How’s that?”
“Sounds fine to me.”
“The second thing is that we don’t currently have a business editor.”
“What happened to Ms. Owen?”
“Extended medical leave. We’re holding her job for her and won’t hire anyone else, but that means you start by reporting to me.”
“Okay, I guess.”
“What do you want to be paid?”
“What are you offering?”
“Our reporters in the first two years start at between twenty-seven and thirty thousand,” he said. “But you’re coming in with more experience, so how about thirty-six to start? Performance bonuses possible up to forty. When you pass eighteen months, we’ll review.”
He stood up and extended his hand. I rose from the chair and shook it.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Porter. Someone from HR will contact you with the details. I look forward to working with you.”
“Thank you, sir. I expect to contribute a great deal to this paper and to make you proud.”
Five minutes later, I poked my head around the door frame into Tommy’s office and saw he was on the phone.
“On hold,” he said, taking the handset away from his mouth. “How’d it go?”
I gave him a thumbs-up, and he shot me a wide grin.
“See you back at the house,” I said.
Later that day, after a light supper, we debated on how to celebrate. Tommy wanted to take in a French film debuting at an art house theater, but I craved going out to a club. The move, finding a place, and then the interview with my father had left me tense and wanting to cut loose. Once upon a time, Tommy would have been my partner on these evenings, but now I met resistance.
“You were always more of a club boy than I was.” Tommy laughed. “Plus, Danny and I agreed that discos on our own are off-limits. But I can still help you pick one out and take you, if you want. You can rideshare back.”
“The L&F was always my favorite. If it’s open, of course.”
“Oh, it’s open all right,” he said. “I’ll drop you in front about nine.”
Chapter Two
Hooking Up
The St. Michael’s contract news arrived like a jolt of adrenaline at Bonne Chance Motors.
“We should do something to mark the occasion, boss,” Christine proposed. “This is our first public contract.”
She was right. In all the years my dad ran the shop—and in the time I owned and ran it after he died—we had never received the vote of confidence a public bid represented. That deserved some recognition.
“Okay,” I said. “On the day we deliver our first St. Michael’s vehicle, we’ll have a staff dinner. You all handle choosing the restaurant and making the reservation. Bonne Chance will handle the bill.”
“Alllll right,” Joe crowed. “Barbecue!”
I laughed. “You all will have to negotiate the cuisine, but I trust you can work it out.”
The boost of enthusiasm Mr. Corde’s decision brought into the business infected me too. By nature I am a loner. But when I feel like company, I most often call one of my oldest friends, Eva Almisra. I walked into my office and closed the door.
“Darlllling Lyle,” Eva said, answering my call. “Are your ears burning? I was just thinking it had been too long since we hunted together,” she purred.
“Great minds. What are you up for, tonight or tomorrow night?”
“Definitely tonight, baby. I have a bridezilla rehearsal dinner tomorrow night, and she wants the whole ghastly thing shot, including the crumb crunchers. If I don’t burn off some of this frustration beforehand, who knows what could happen.”
“Nothing good. Where? I’m in the mood for Blitz or L&F.”
“Hmm, the L&F, darling. I got a tip that the Edwards College crew team won one of those rowing things this week.”
“A regatta?”
“That’s it. It’s so good to have literate friends. Anyway, whatever it is, they won it and they’re holding their victory party there tonight, so I thought we would both stand a good chance of getting some action.”
“I’ll be by your place at eight,” I promised, and I arrived right on time. She, however, came to the door in her bathrobe and parked me in a comfortable chair outside her walk-in closet while she dressed.
Until about five years ago, anyone who followed international news knew Eva’s photographs, though they might not have known her name. She became known as one of the bravest—or most reckless—conflict photographers in the business, winning prizes along the way for her photos.
But she stopped chasing and dodging bullets after her mother died, dropping out of sight, moving here, and founding the Femme Formidable photo service, along with teaching classes in yoga and self-defense for women.
We met when she drove her beaten-up Mazda Miata into Bonne Chance after discovering stop signs in the U.S. really mean stop. We get along because she learned I didn’t want to sleep with her, and I didn’t mind competing with her. I discovered a serious and active woman whom I could befriend without feeling alienated and who could give me a good kick in the ass when we decided I needed one.
“But you really perturbed me when you told me you weren’t just burning to take me to bed,” she said as she rolled the black stocking up her leg.
“Really?”
“Of course, darling. I did everything short of throwing you my panties, but you remained aloof as an old stump. I thought I had lost my touch.”
She adjusted the red vinyl skirt with a tug and brushed her hair in her dresser mirror.
“But surely you clued in that…”
“Of course I knew about gay men, love. We had those in Lebanon too. But the gay men I knew helped my mother choose curtains and sometimes wore more makeup than she did. None of them ever looked or acted like you. You were, are…unique. Now, which one?” She held up two red lipsticks, one slightly redder than the other.
“The darker one.”
“Darker?”
“I don’t know. I never get lipstick right. The less shiny of the two.”
“Okay.” She deftly applied the color and turned to me, pursing her lips.
“Are we ready, honey?”
I nodded.
“Then let’s go.”
We had played these evenings so often together, we could perform them seamlessly. We arrive as a couple a little older than the median age for whatever venue we choose, but not old enough to qualify for the sugar daddy or cougar category. We flirt, both with each other and with bystanders, leaving the impression we might be open to a threesome with the right young man. When Eva decides the hook is set, she signals me. I suddenly need some air. While I’m gone, she convinces the youth they don’t want me, and they leave together, either to her place or his. Someplace private enough for him to learn, to his surprise, that Eva has taken firm control of the rest of his evening.
Later, when I return from catching a breeze, I act the disappointed partner and find a young man for my own bed. It’s a strategy that has worked more times than it hasn’t.
* * *
As our ride dropped us off in front of the Lost and Found, popularly known as L&F, I noticed the parking lot was two-thirds full. SUVs topped with boat racks confirmed the crew team was in the club, and from outside we heard the music’s beat. The L&F is one of three gay-friendly venues in St. Michael’s Harbor, all of them here in Tinker Creek.
We strolled up the walk past the line of people waiting to pay the cover charge, and Clem, the L&F’s six-foot-two bouncer, waved us through. I don’t think I’ve ever been asked for a cover charge with Eva. Inside, a banner stretched across the center of the dance floor reading “Congratulations Edwards Crew!”
And the club had done some work for the party. They changed the lighting, giving the entire room an underwater tinge. I found this charming at first, but then I observed the special effect turned us all an unhealthy, pale shade of green.
Not that anyone in the crowd appeared to notice. About a third of the dance floor had couples on it, same-sex and mixed, and the press of people in front of both bar rails was two deep. I spied an open two-top table on the edge of the dance floor with a bright red Reserved sign on it. I steered Eva that way, and as I expected, she sat right down. I followed.
A young man wearing board shorts, sandals, and nothing else but a muscular chest appeared in front of us as if by magic.
“Ms. Almisra, so nice to have you back,” he said. “And Mr. James, you are looking fabulous as well. What can I bring you to start off your evening?”
“Something bubbly, love,” Eva said. “It doesn’t have to be champagne, but something in a flute would be nice.”
He waited for me.
“An old-fashioned, but with rye whiskey instead of bourbon, and hold the cherry,” I said. The waiter vanished as silently as he arrived.
It took me a minute to adjust to the eerie lighting, but I could tell our entrance had drawn attention. From three tables down, a young blond I’d left with before waved slightly. His date wouldn’t notice, and I didn’t let on that I saw him.
Another set of eyes followed us. One of the booths diagonal from our table had three of the Edwards crew members. They wore the team’s maroon baseball caps, jeans, and polo shirts. Two of them were big men, tall brunettes with shoulders that could have supported London Bridge. But the third was smaller, slighter, and blond.
One of the auburn-haired guys locked his eyes on Eva, and I leaned toward her to speak softly.
“Turn in your seat to your right and then tilt into me. Yeah, like that,” I said as she adjusted herself. “See the pair of brunettes at seven o’clock?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“The one on the left hasn’t stopped watching us since we sat down. What do you think?”
“He’ll do nicely,” she said with a quiet coil in her voice.
I gently pulled her close. “Let’s give him a show,” I said, sinking my face into her perfumed neck as she arched her back. With my lips still pressed to her rose-smelling skin, I traced the outline of her breast with the fingers of my right hand and circled the nipple as it stiffened while my left slid under the red vinyl skirt. I brushed over the cord of her thong and then played on the field of bare flesh.
She moaned softly. “Did I ever tell you how good you are at this?”
“Once or twice.”
“I’m officially telling you again.” She gasped as I found her little soldier standing at attention.
My own cock was a pillar of iron beneath layers of cloth. It didn’t matter she was a woman. The delicious reality of what we were doing in public with an audience sent frissons of excitement flashing throughout my nervous system, including my crotch. I kissed my way up her neck to the edge of her bangs and paused there, exploring under her earlobe.
“Oh my gawd, Lyle,” she whispered as she tried to force my hand more firmly against her slick skin.
“No, no, no,” I replied, easing my hand free and sliding back up and out from under the shiny red material. “Our drinks are here.”
We parted, and she pulled away slightly to acknowledge the waiter, standing to our side, blushing a faintly brown color under the lights. How long had he been there, I wondered. Enough time for a lengthy, thick ridge to appear in his board shorts.
Eva straightened in her seat and shook her head like she was trying to wake up before motioning the server to her side of the table. I cocked my ears to be able to hear.
“Do you see the farthest away of those three gentlemen seated at that booth? Excellent. Please find out what he is drinking and buy him another one. When he asks, tell him it’s compliments of the lady.”
The bare-chested youth nodded and disappeared as Eva rearranged herself in her seat. She was still close to me, but not as evidently in a clinch. From where the trio sat, all they could see was my right hand vanishing behind her. It rested on the small of her back, but it could as easily have been playing with her ass.
Now it was a matter of waiting. The dance floor had continued to fill, and I suspected no spaces remained in the parking lot. In about half an hour, the club would be at capacity, and they would restrict entrants.
“Have you seen any other prospects?” I murmured to Eva. “Over my shoulder, the blond at the bar looks like he might be fun.”
But she shook her head. “I’m all in. That boy’s getting an education tonight, and I’m going to be his teacher.”
I took my first sip of my drink, pleased the bartender remembered to keep it from getting too sweet.
“How about you?” she asked. “This has gone fast tonight. Seen anybody you like?”
“Could be,” I replied. “We might both entertain members of the Edwards crew team this evening.”
At the other table, our waiter arrived with what looked like a mai tai, and I chuckled as I watched Eva’s prize protest at first and then blush when he learned who sent it. Eva was observing too and shot him a provocative stare. The poor lad reddened more.
That was my cue to leave. I made a show of getting up, stretching, taking my drink, and heading out across the dance floor and out onto the deck. Connecting with rower boy, luring him home and into her bed was up to her now. I was free to hunt on my own.
I passed by one of the of moveable walls and checked out my reflection. I wasn’t twenty-five anymore but looked closer to twenty-seven than thirty. I showed some gray, but my short side cut kept it from being noticeable. My body was beefy, but solid. Nothing moved when it wasn’t supposed to, I didn’t have to use a flyswatter, and I still ran a hundred meters in under thirty-four seconds, so I felt pretty confident.
Generally, when I’m out, I’m all about looking sharp, but Eva wanted to do Beauty and the Beast tonight, so I agreed to step it down. This evening I wore a plain white tee that had been washed so many times it revealed my nipples, a vintage black leather jacket, older jeans that showed off my ass and crotch, and a pair of boots. The overall look was construction worker drag, but classier and definitely hot if you like that type of man.
I reached the railing at the edge of the deck and stood for a bit, enjoying my drink and the play of the lights on the water. I tried to leave enough time for Eva and the boy toy of the evening to clear out before returning, and I headed back in after what I judged a suitable interval.
I weaved my way through the crowd to the second bar and ordered a Diet Coke. The management had rented the back room to the Edwards crew party, but the bartender said they were not being exclusive, so I made them my next stop.
They welcomed me with a distracted, boozy hospitality, taking me as an older brother, cousin, or alumnus. I sipped my cola, made myself amiable in a mysterious yet unalarming way, and carefully observed the group dynamic.
The prospects weren’t promising. The Edwards crew team clearly had an active fan base, and many of its female members had come to the party. I strolled my way back to the main room and kept on circulating.
I wasn’t having a lot of luck. A forest of twinks overran the south bar in skinny jeans and tight tees, some with made-up faces, but they all looked like teens. Though I knew Clem blocked the underage at the door, none of them appeared old enough to drink, much less take to bed.
