Chapter 3: Chronicle
884 Words
Chapter 3: Chronicle
May 31. Memorial Day. Barefoot Beach was intense with pre-summertime parties. It was as if a door had opened and welcomed the month of June with delight. Schooners, a small yacht, two sail boats, and other boats were on the Gulf. Bare-chested and queer men and their hot husbands, hustlers, or boyfriends heavily drank, partied, and enjoyed the holiday at hand. The smell of honey-basted barbecue tainted the air, as well as wheat-made beer and beef hot dogs. No longer was the holiday a time of memorial and showing respect to those fellow soldiers in the five branches of our military who were alive or deceased; a certain group of men and women who exulted bravery on various levels during their careers as protectors of our nation. Instead, it was a festive and partying holiday which welcomed warm weather for the entire country, a reason to drink, overeat fatty foods, and swim once again.
TBP was closed for the day, of course, recognizing the holiday, which allowed me to sleep in, read the morning paper, consume a fruit salad for breakfast, and follow up such activities with some refined prying. Perhaps I was challenged by Brayden York, captivated by his forwardness, honesty during our shared lunch, and caught up in his good looks. I tried not to judge men like books, relishing their illustrated and bursting covers instead of their interior content before reading, but it did happen on a few occasions. Of course I found men interesting for their logical minds and textbook skills, whatever their careers entailed, but I was not beneath craving a certain male acquaintance because of his masculine beauty, particularly sexy and handsome blondes, like Mr. York.
To my surprise, Brayden caught me in the strangest manner, which I had no defense for. Following our luncheon at Mostel’s Beach Bistro, I couldn’t push the man out of my mind. Not only did his good looks sting me in a positive way, but I discovered his richness as mysteriously brazen, a raw aphrodisiac that I wanted to learn more about and digest in full. I had honestly hoped that there wasn’t going to be a list of painful side effects thereafter because maybe I found him far too attractive in just a short period of time, and wanted to get to known him a little more, in depth and up close, perhaps even romantically, if that was even possible.
The Internet came in handy to learn of one’s history, present conditions, and naughty secrets, if any even existed. As the city of Barefoot Beach partied like rock stars, celebrating the summer months ahead, I clicked numerous keys, studied various websites pertaining to real estate, and compiled a readable list of interesting details about Brayden Robert York:
Birth date: September 5, 1987
Mother: Charlotte Rues-York, age 63
Father: Peter William York, age 65
No siblings.
Attended Eagle Elementary & Middle School near Salem, Massachusetts
Attended Prospect High School in Boston
Obtained a business degree from Boston University four years ago
Moved to Barefoot Beach approximately three years ago after being licensed in real estate.
No f*******: page.
No Twitter account.
No newspaper articles regarding theft, drugs, or drunk driving.
No murder charges.
No children.
No ex-wives.
No current boyfriend(s) or racy pictures on the net.
No amateur s*x scenes: solo c**k-acts and group participation.
No hospital stays.
NRA affiliate.
ASPCA member.
Owner of six beachfront properties in Barefoot Beach on Barefoot Drive. Seller of seven properties in the last three years.
Last year’s income: $720,000, not including side jobs he didn’t turn into the IRS.
Proud owner of a 2011 silver Mercedes 250i, which was purchased at Turtle Bay Motors, just outside of Barefoot Beach.
Current residence: Bungalow 22 on Barefoot Drive.
* * * *
I scanned page after page of fluff on the net regarding the young man and learned nothing more than a few more basic facts: he enjoyed flipping houses and earning money from his real estate projects, he loved animals, particularly horses, and was a registered Democrat.
Frankly, the young entrepreneur was dull by what I had unearthed from the many perused websites. Brayden’s doings were all legal, his s*x life was very private, whatever it entailed, and the man came across as an Average Joe, without a long list of baggage in his Gulf-side life. I deemed him a healthy man who seemed to enjoy what he was doing in his career, not a scoundrel, particularly honest in his business doings, and an upstanding member of the Barefoot Beach society.
* * * *
Before I realized it lunchtime was long over and it was almost three o’clock in the afternoon. How could I have possibly surfed the Internet for almost four hours straight? No wonder my ass hurt and I was hungry.
Following my marathon of prying, I showered, dressed in a pair of shorts, a tight T-shirt, and ragged sandals. I too had a Memorial Day party to attend, which was next door to my property, hosted by Ging and Nick. The duo was cooking gourmet burgers on the grill, serving a variety of festive picnic foods, and provided an open bar for their guests, which I was looking forward to.
Of course I never attended a party empty-handed. Therefore, I strapped a plastic-covered fruit tray to the rear of my ATV, careened over the smooth Florida sand, and arrived at the celebratory party just as things were becoming heated.
- Writer
