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  Roby sensed that his dads were getting along, and he clambered up on the sofa and snuggled between us.

  I looked at my watch. It was just after seven in the evening. “When do we need to leave?”

  “Can we go on Saturday? The time share is for seven days.”

  I picked up my cell phone. What the hell—my boss called me at home all the time.

  He answered on the first ring. “Sampson.”

  “Hey, Lieutenant. I was wondering. Any chance I could get next week off for vacation?”

  “Where do we stand with the phony valets?”

  My partner, Ray Donne, and I had been working on a case for the last two weeks. Young guys in generic valet outfits had been lurking around fancy hotels and restaurants. As soon as the real valets were occupied, a phony one would jump in, hand over a fake ticket to the guest, and drive off with the car. They went straight to a chop shop that either cut them up for parts or filed off the VIN number and shipped them to Asia.

  It had taken us a while to figure out the operation, and then Ray and I had swooped in and arrested four young guys, who fingered the boss of the operation. We had pulled him in that afternoon.

  “With the arrest we made today, all that’s left is the paperwork,” I said. “I can have that done by Friday.”

  “Then take the week. You and Mike going somewhere?”

  Lieutenant Sampson had taken a chance on me when no one else in the department would, when I had just been dragged out of the closet. Ever since then he’d been very supportive, and I appreciated the way he treated Mike as my spouse, just the way he did with Ray’s wife Julie.

  “Looks like we’re going to Kauai,” I said.

  Mike called Ben to make the arrangements, and I dialed my brother Haoa and asked if Roby could come stay with him and his family while we were gone. “I don’t know, brah,” he said. “He might like living with us better. You come back, he won’t want to leave.”

  “Hah. Nobody could spoil that dog the way we do.” I made arrangements to drop Roby off on Saturday morning and booked an early afternoon flight and a rental car for the two of us to pick up at the airport in Lihue.

  When both of us were finished with our phone calls, Mike said, “You think maybe we could get a head start on our vacation?” He tickled the inside of my thigh with his big toe.

  I pushed the dog off the sofa and cuddled up next to him. Even though his body was as familiar as my own, I still loved just being next to him, our thighs and arms touching, leaning forward for a kiss. His lips met mine lightly and I turned my head a bit so we could move even closer. I reached around behind him and snaked one arm up under his T-shirt, tickling the light dusting of hair over his shoulder blades.

  My dick stiffened as we kissed. He reached over and tweaked my right nipple and I groaned. He was right: we had been ignoring each other for too long. He pushed me back down onto the sofa and climbed on top of me. That was my favorite position of all, feeling his whole body pressing down on me. I even liked the way I got short of breath if he was compressing my ribcage. I think it made my orgasms better. And what the hell, he had been trained as an EMT when he was an active-duty firefighter, so he could always revive me if I passed out. I wondered if I’d like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from him. Probably.

  We kissed again and he began rubbing his body against mine, the friction of our clothes providing an exquisite pain as my stiff dick chafed against the cotton fabric of my boxers. Precum began to dribble out of my piss slit. I could feel my orgasm rising, and I banged my head against the pillows.

  Then his cell phone rang.

  I wanted to tell him to ignore it, but I knew he couldn’t, just the way I couldn’t ignore an emergency call from HPD.

  He backed off and reached for the phone. I took a couple of deep breaths but my dick didn’t go down. I could tell his didn’t either.

  He listened to the caller for a minute, then said, “Shit. All right, I’m on it.” He hung up and extricated himself from the couch. “Suspicious fire out in Kaimuki. I’ve gotta go.” I watched his ass as he left the room, and rubbed my dick a couple of times with my right hand. But it wasn’t the same.

  Mike changed from his T-shirt and shorts into his standard work outfit of khakis and an HFD polo shirt and was out of the house in minutes. I thought about pulling up some Internet porn to relieve my blue balls, but decided it was better to wait for Mike to return.

  He didn’t get home until I was already asleep, though, and we were so busy the next few days that we hardly spoke. Saturday morning I woke to find him standing by the side of the bed fastening his watch. He was already dressed. “Where are you going?” I asked, then yawned.

  “Ben was supposed to be on call this morning but he had to take his daughter to the ER. I’ve got to run out to Nanakuli and check out a fire. Can you pack for me?”

  Nanakuli was on the Leeward Coast, way out the Farrington Highway. If he got caught up there he’d have trouble making it to the airport for our flight. “I don’t understand why you had to take it over. He knows you’re going to his timeshare.”

  “His daughter is sick,” Mike said, enunciating every word. “Have a little compassion, asshole.”

  “What the fuck!” I sat up in bed. “You make these plans without even asking me and then you run off?”

  “I’m going to work. You don’t want to go to Kauai, you can stay right here.”

  He stalked out of the bedroom and a moment later I heard the front door slam.

  Roby clambered up into bed next to me and settled down on Mike’s pillow. “That went well,” I said to him.

  I tried to go back to sleep but I was too antsy. Instead I got up and started to pack—for both Mike and myself. I ran out to the local Long’s Drugs to pick up some travel-sized items, then went back home and got Roby, along with everything he’d need for a long weekend with his aunt and uncle and their brood of four human kids and one furry one. Sometimes I swear the dog needs more travel stuff than Mike and me: a bag of food, bowls for food and water, glucosamine and chondroitin for his joints, a selection of toys and a couple of rawhide chews, and a bag of treats shaped like little T-bone steaks.

  It was noon by the time I got back to the house, and I hadn’t heard from Mike. I tried his cell and the call went direct to voicemail. Was he ignoring me? Out of cell range? Had something happened at the fire?

  We had a 3:00 flight on go! Airlines, and we needed to get to the airport at least an hour earlier for check-in. I started to get irritated, but stopped myself. This was going to be our vacation, and I didn’t want to kick it off with more fighting. And I’m a big believer in karma: I always worried that if we argued before leaving each other, we would tempt fate to cause some accident that would make us regret our words forever.

  I paced around the house for a while, then gave up and loaded the Jeep with our luggage. I tried Mike’s cell again as I was driving away.

  This time he picked up. “I’m just leaving the fire now. Couldn’t get a signal out there. It doesn’t look like I’ll have a chance to get home. Can I just meet you at the airport?”

  “Sure. I’ve got the bags. In case you’re really late and I’m already at the gate, you can check in with your driver’s license.”

  “Will do. Sorry, babe. I’ll make it up to you on Kauai.”

  “You will. Love you.”

  He said he loved me, too, and hung up. I drove to the airport, parked, and lugged both our bags to the check-in desk. The airline was flying the Bombardier CJ-2000, so I had to check everything except a little daypack with our reservation information, a couple of granola bars, and a book. I walked down to the gate, resisting the urge to bug Mike by calling his cell again and asking where the fuck he was.

  The gates at the Interisland Terminal are open-air, sheltered from the elements by a hipped roof, low stone walls, and hibiscus hedges. I paced around waiting for Mike as the minutes ticked by.

  The plane began boarding and Mike still wasn’t there.
I finally broke down and dialed his cell. “We’re boarding. Where are you?”

  “Waiting in line for the security check. I’m almost there. Don’t leave without me.”

  “I’ll stand in front of the plane,” I said dryly, and hung up. There was a sudden gust of wind and rain began to beat down on the tarmac. The last couple of patrons scurried over to the plane’s staircase and began to climb. The wind turned and the rain began to blow into the open gate area. I huddled in a corner, rubbing my upper arms against the sudden chill.

  The gate was empty except for me and a couple of agents when Mike came running up. We handed over our boarding passes and hurried out over the tarmac to the plane, getting soaked in the process. We rushed up the slippery staircase and I nearly fell once as I got close to the top, but Mike was right behind me.

  We made our way to our seats, dripping down the aisle, and then the flight attendant closed the door and we pushed off. “Sorry I was late,” Mike said. “I really did try to get through as fast as I could.”

  “You talk to Ben? How’s his daughter?”

  “She’s better. They had to put her on a respirator to help her breathe until she gets over the infection.”

  I realized how lucky we were to both be healthy, to have good jobs and a safe place to live and the chance to go on vacation together. I resolved not to argue the whole time we were on Kauai. If I could manage it.

  The flight was brief, and while Mike dozed I looked out the window at the endless miles of ocean. We landed and walked right over to the car-rental counter. The clerk was a ditzy blonde, a recent transplant from the mainland, and she had a lot of trouble finding my reservation. “All of these names with apostrophes,” she said. “It’s so confusing.”

  “It’s called an okina,” I said. “Not an apostrophe.”

  “Enough, Kimo,” Mike said. “Let Mary Sue focus on what she’s doing so we can get a move on.”

  Her name tag actually read Louise, but I wasn’t going to correct him. She gave us directions out of the airport to Route 56, which of course were wrong and led us in a big circle. “I thought you’d been here before,” Mike grumbled.

  “Twenty years ago. Can’t you read the map?”

  Both of us were pretty ragged by the time we got to the timeshare. All I wanted to do was get into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt with a very tall, very cold tropical drink in my hand. But as soon as we walked into the one-bedroom condo with a view of Poipu Beach, Mike said, “I’m going to hurl,” and rushed to the bathroom.

  So much for our romantic getaway, I thought. I brought all the luggage in and then went back out to get him some over-the-counter medication. He took the pills, crawled into bed, and zonked out.

  I walked down the beach and stopped at the first bar I found, where they were playing Jawaiian music—a combination of Hawaiian and Jamaican reggae—and ordered a strawberry daiquiri. It was an open, thatched-roof place with a gorgeous view of the beach. The sun sparkled on wavelets that lapped at fine white sand. The shore curved around and disappeared into a lush rainforest.

  I sat on a stool and drank, tapping my foot on the bar rail.

  “I see you like this beat, too.”

  I looked to my right and saw a forty-something haole tourist with thinning brown hair and a bit of raccooning where he’d fallen asleep in the sun with his sunglasses on.

  “Yeah, it’s kind of infectious,” I said.

  “You mind if I join you?”

  “Sure.”

  He sat on the barstool next to me and motioned to the bartender for a refill of his frozen margarita. “I’m Reed.” He reached out to shake my hand.

  “Kimo,” I said. “Where are you from?” He had a good strong grip, which I liked, and he made sure to make eye contact.

  “Omaha. Here for a convention of financial planners at the Hyatt. Turns out not to be as much fun as I was hoping. Everybody else brought a wife or a girlfriend.”

  “Let me guess. You don’t have either of those.”

  “And haven’t wanted one since I was about seventeen and figured myself out.”

  I nodded. “Took me a lot longer than that.”

  The bartender brought his daiquiri and Reed raised his glass toward me. I clinked with him and we both smiled.

  My dick was swelling in my pants. Shit. What was I doing here, flirting with another guy, when I was supposed to be on a romantic weekend with Mike? But it had been a long time since another guy had expressed some interest in me. It was shady behavior and cruel to Reed, but I just wanted to savor the feeling for a few minutes. There was no real harm in flirting, anyway. I’d still end up with Mike, though if he was sick we’d probably be in separate beds.

  We were the only people in the bar, and I noticed both Reed and I were tapping our feet to the beat. “You want to dance?” I asked.

  “You think we can?”

  “Nobody here to complain.”

  “Then hell, yes.”

  When he stood up and I got a good look at him, I could see Reed had more middle-aged spread than I’d expected, but he had some moves. He had a great sense of rhythm and he was comfortable in his body, and that came through as he danced. At first we were just doing our own thing, rocking and swaying, but then Reed took my hand and pulled me toward him and then back, and swung me around.

  We danced through three songs. Out of the corner of my eye I saw some other people start to come into the bar, but nobody said anything. They were all on vacation, after all, and who wants to get worked up when there’s warm weather, a beautiful view, and a well-stocked bar?

  We finally quit and returned to the bar, where we ordered another round of drinks and a pupu platter to share—some bits of roasted pork, Chinese dumplings, and pineapple. We kept eating and drinking and talking and laughing, and I felt a lot of the tension in my gut begin to go away.

  Then I looked up and saw Mike in the doorway of the bar. “You left me in that condo with nothing to eat,” he said.

  “Well, come on over here and order something.”

  I didn’t mean to sound irritated, but even though I knew I wasn’t going up to Reed’s room with him, I was enjoying the delicious sensation that something might happen, and Mike’s arrival harshed my mellow.

  Despite his mood, Mike was still a very handsome guy, with wavy dark hair, a black mustache with just the faintest touches of gray, a strong jaw and a killer body. Reed’s mouth hung open as he stared at Mike. “Friend of yours?” he asked me.

  “Partner.” I know I sighed as I said it, and I shouldn’t have.

  Reed’s body sagged as he realized what was going on. Then Mike stepped into the bar and crossed over toward us, sliding onto a stool next to Reed. He stuck his hand out. “I’m Mike.”

  Reed was almost too flabbergasted to respond, but he did shake Mike’s hand and introduce himself.

  “They have burgers here?” Mike asked.

  Reed pushed a menu toward Mike.

  “You’re feeling better?” I asked.

  “Right as rain. Shouldn’t have grabbed that chili on the way to the airport.”

  I wanted to say that if he hadn’t, he’d have been on time, and we wouldn’t have gotten soaked on the tarmac either—but for once I kept my mouth shut.

  The bartender came over, and Mike ordered a Fire Rock Pale Ale and a mushroom burger, medium well. “Sounds good to me,” Reed said. “I’ll have the same.”

  I had to be contrary, so I ordered a bacon cheeseburger, medium, and another strawberry daiquiri.

  When the bartender left, Mike turned to Reed. “So where are you from?”

  Reed wasn’t quite sure what was going on—and neither was I. But he played along, and soon he and Mike were flirting just as he and I had been. I sat on the far side of Reed, feeling left out. This was supposed to be a sexy getaway for Mike and me—so why was Reed still between us?

  I had a sexual history longer than some modern novels, first with women, then, after I came out of the closet, with a lot of differ
ent guys in different situations. By the time I met Mike, I was ready to settle down and commit to one man. He was my first real boyfriend, the first guy I fell in love with.

  I was his first love, too, but he didn’t have anywhere near the sexual background I had, and sometimes I thought he regretted not having sown enough wild oats. We’d see a guy covered with tats, for example, and Mike would wonder what sex with him would be like. Or we’d be watching a porn movie and see a guy with a Prince Albert, with pierced nipples or bars through the frenum, the scrotum, or the perineum, and he’d wonder what that would be like.

  He’d never been with a black man or a guy in his senior years, though he’d had some interesting experiences with a leather daddy in Waikele that he remembered fondly.

  The bartender delivered our burgers and Mike bit into his lustily. “This is great,” he said. Then he turned to Reed. “So, you into threesomes?”

  I nearly choked on my burger. Mike knew damn well that I didn’t want to share him; he was all mine. He’d expressed interest in threesomes in the past, but only in the most general sense—and I’d shut him down every time.

  Reed was quicker on the uptake than I was. I figure he guessed Mike’s interest as soon as he sat down at the bar with us. He looked Mike in the eye and said, “Having sex with a stud as handsome as you is a wet dream for a guy like me. The two of you, as gorgeous and built as you are? I’d feel like I died and went to heaven.”

  “Well, don’t die on us just yet.” He licked his lips. “What about you, K-man?”

  Mike has a million nicknames for me: K-man, Keeper, King Kong Kimo. When he uses one of them I know he’s teasing. But who was he teasing—Reed? Or Me?

  My dick had already made its vote. I was hard the whole time I danced with Reed, and I was sure he’d noticed the tiny wet spot on my jeans. I shriveled up as soon as Mike walked in, like an embarrassed kid caught with his hand in the candy jar. But once Mike mentioned a threesome, my dick pronged up again.

  I took a deep breath. I knew couples who had broken up, and one of the first signs their relationship had shown of going south was when they opened up to other people. But I also knew a couple in Kahala who had been merrily engaging in all kinds of sex, either together, separately, or with one or more others, and they were just as much in love as they’d ever been.