Chapter 9Although I’d successfully managed to persuade Pretty Boy to overlook my twenty-seventh birthday on January 1—being three years closer to hitting the slippery slope of thirty made it a less than fun occasion—2002 didn’t start well. A few days into it, we were stunned by the news that Delilah Carson was found murdered in her condo, stabbed numerous times. We’d worked a threesome with her just a week or so before. Her boyfriend had set it up. She’d been uncertain of her john, unusual for a woman with her experience, and wanted the encounter filmed, so Pretty Boy and Spike worked with her, and I hid out in the crawlspace and filmed it. After the john had left, she’d laughed at her nerves. “Neal was so jumpy about this; it must have rubbed off on me.” But she’d agreed when I suggested making copies of the tape for insurance.
I’d never had the chance to give her the tapes.
Her boyfriend was the prime suspect, even after his body was discovered on the sidewalk at the back of her building with his face smashed in, having apparently hurled himself from the roof and done a face-plant on the concrete below.
“Remorse!” the newspapers decreed. They had a field day, going into loving detail over the many knife wounds, any one of which could have been fatal and all of which had bled profusely.
Spike was as white as his hair. Paul looked sick. I felt hollow myself.
All the boys and girls of DC’s party community came to her funeral, and Babe, Delilah’s BFF, arrived from out of town with her little boy to be there to honor Delilah’s memory. Charles, who I’d wound up spending a single night with, stood on Babe’s other side. For a change he didn’t snark at me—he hadn’t taken our breakup well—but I hardly noticed him. Well, I was so blinded by tears I hardly noticed anyone.
“Right,” I said after the service was complete and we’d returned to our place. “We’re going out of town. On vacation.”
“Disney World?” Spike asked hopefully, color coming back to his cheeks.
Disney World was in Florida. “How about Disneyland instead?”
“California?” He gave a little bounce. “I’ve never been there.”
“That’s settled, then.” I booked us a flight out to the west coast. “Do you want to stay in the park or in Anaheim?”
“Can we stay in the park? It’s gotta be more expensive, but….”
“We can do whatever we want.”
After the first couple of days of touring the various parks, Paul and Spike began to find excuses to stay at the hotel.
“You don’t mind, do you, Sweets?”
“Just make sure you leave the room long enough for housekeeping to make the bed.”
“Why? We’re just gonna mess it up again.” Spike tried for tough, but he fell short of it, hitting adorably naughty instead, but that seemed fine with Paul.
I laughed and shook my head and went back to Main Street, USA. I really loved that place. I bought a cone at one of the ice cream parlors along Main Street and sat at an outside table, watching the crowds stroll by.
“Excuse me.” A young man stood beside my table. He might have been my age, maybe a little younger. Not that it was important. I’d always believed age was simply a question of mind over matter. He had ash-brown hair and the most amazing blue eyes I’d ever seen. Although he was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, I could tell by his bearing that he was military. “All the tables are taken. Do you mind if I share yours?”
“Help yourself.” I liked the way that shirt fit over his torso.
“Thanks. My sundae was starting to melt.” He sat down and took a spoonful. “I didn’t realize it would be so crowded.”
“This is the normal state of affairs for Disneyland. The best time to come is during Magic Mornings.”
“Oh? What are they?”
“If you’re staying at one of the park hotels, you can get in before the parks are open to the general public.”
His face fell. “I’m staying at the naval base.”
“In San Diego? I had a feeling you were a military man.”
A blush colored his cheeks. He ducked his head and took another spoon of ice cream.
“You’ve got some whipped cream on your nose.” I leaned forward with a napkin and wiped it off.
“Thanks.” He looked away, but not before I saw a small smile and the blush rise up again. He did blush easily.
“My name is Paul,” I said, stretching my hand across the table. We shook hands, and I grinned to myself. What would Paul think of me appropriating his name?
“Hi, Paul. My name is…er…you can call me Al.”
A horse-drawn streetcar was passing by, and I watched as kids bounced in excitement and parents smiled indulgently. I took a lick of my strawberry cone and glanced at my companion, to find his eyes fastened on my mouth.
I took another lick and wondered if I were in the mood for a busman’s holiday. “Have you been to Disneyland before, Al?”
“A long time ago, when I was a kid. My dad took me. It’s changed so much. How about you?”
“This is my first time.”
“Oh! Maybe I could show you around?”
“Sure. It’s more fun doing stuff with someone else.”
He gave me a shy smile, pulled a map from his back pocket, and spread it on the table.
We went on the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, waited in line for two hours for the Indiana Jones Adventure—that was worth it, if only because he kept clutching my arm in the dark and ducking his head against my shoulder—then strolled from Adventureland to Tomorrowland and rode the cars of Autopia.
“Do you want to go on Space Mountain?”
“Um…” He was suddenly pale.
“Or we could go to New Orleans Square and see if we can find the Haunted Mansion from there, if you’d rather?”
His sigh was relieved. “The Haunted Mansion, if you don’t mind.”
We walked back. I bought him a set of Mickey Mouse ears, and he bought me a Goofy hat. We entered the Haunted Mansion, and this time we took advantage of the dark to hold hands.
“That was fun.” Al was laughing when we stepped out into the dimming sunlight. “Oh! I didn’t realize the time.”
I glanced at my watch. “Do you have to go yet?”
“No.” There seemed to be a hint of defiance in that one word.
“Come on, then. The Blue Bayou is right this way, and I’ve had dinner reservations since this morning.”
His cheeks pinked. “Dinner sounds good.” But he swallowed when he opened the menu. “Maybe we should go someplace else?”
“Isn’t there anything on the menu that appeals to you?”
“It’s not that.” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “It’s all a la carte. I…I didn’t expect it to be this expensive.”
“Don’t worry about it. My treat.” He looked a little uncomfortable. “Al, my friends bailed on me, and you saved me from being bored with my own company.”
“But…the cost….”
One of the first things I’d learned was not to make a client uncomfortable, and even if he wasn’t a client, my companion still deserved my consideration. “Al, cost isn’t a problem. However, if you’d rather go somewhere else, that’s fine with me.”
“But what about your reservations?”
“Someone else will take them, that’s all.”
He looked around wistfully. “I’d like to eat here, but I just can’t afford it on a…a sailor’s pay.”
And he obviously didn’t feel right about me paying for the whole thing.
“Y’know what? There’s a place in Tomorrowland that has decent pizza. What do you say we go there? We could take the Disneyland Railroad.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all,” I lied. I’d been looking forward to the Blue Bayou’s steak Diane since I’d heard about it at our hotel. I flagged down our waitress. “I’m sorry, we have to leave.”
She looked alarmed. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine.” I slipped a twenty into her hand. “For your trouble.”
“Thank you. I hope you’ll be back.”
I smiled at her. Maybe the next day. If I was lucky, Paul and Spike would be ready to come up for air at that point. Otherwise, I’d give Tom and Mike a call and see if they wanted to come down from LA and have dinner with me.
We found the place that offered pizza and both ordered a couple of slices, washed down with soda. The pizza was hot enough to burn the roof of my mouth. Strings of cheese extended from the slice to my mouth, and I had to break them off with my fingers. Al had sauce on his upper lip. I wondered what he would do if I licked it off.
“This has been a fun day.” He sighed happily and used a napkin to wipe his mouth.
“It has. Can you stay for the fireworks?”
“Oh, yeah!”
“Cool. Once we’re done, let’s see if we can find a good spot.”
Fantasmic, the water, laser, and fireworks display, was fabulous and breathtaking. We leaned against each other and pointed out particularly amazing sequences.
I didn’t expect the evening to end with s*x, although I did wonder about kissing him. I walked him toward the parking lot.
“I had a great time today, Paul.”
“So did I. I’d invite you back to my hotel room, but….”
He was shaking his head frantically. “I have to go. My…my ship is sailing.”
“Well, thanks for keeping me company today. Have a safe cruise.” I straightened his mouse ears before holding out my hand, but instead of shaking it, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching and pulled me close. I knew my gaydar couldn’t have been off—not only had he not slugged me when I’d reached for his hand in the Haunted Mansion, but there was also the way he’d grabbed me and squealed during the Indiana Jones ride. I offered him my mouth.
His kiss landed beside it, on my cheek. Deliberately.
“Goodbye, Paul.”
“Goodbye, Al.” I sighed.
He hurried to his car, gave me a final glance and a wave, then got in and drove away.
The smile on my face felt wistful. What would it be like to spend a day like this with someone I knew I’d be going home with?
Oh, well. No use wishing for the moon. I walked back through the thinning crowds to the hotel where we were staying.