walked faster than I thought. I tended to move quickly when things got ugly. His beautiful jade green eyes held nothing but pain.
After that he took off running, and I let him go.
* * *
St. Nacho"s sits poised on the most awesome crest of land overlooking the endless sea. Once what little sun there had set and the breeze dissipated the fog, the moon rose high in the sky, peeking every now and again from behind a veil of swiftly moving clouds. I don"t know how long it took—hours maybe—until I stepped down from the pier into the sand. I could hear the music from Nacho"s Bar in the distance, and I made my way toward it. Cars parked everywhere on the streets around the brightly lit building. The violin music of dinnertime had given way to the heavy, rhythmic thump, thump of dance music.
The first thing I noticed when I got close was the number of people milling around outside. Some were chatting, away from the noise. Some had left the building to smoke. Most were openly affectionate gay couples. They had to be coming from outlying areas, towns and cities stretched along the coastline, north and south. As I got closer, I saw people I recognized from walking around town.
Apparently Nacho"s Bar was the official place to see and be seen. There were straight couples too. When I entered, I recognized Candace at a table with a man I"d never seen before. She smiled politely at me, and I waved back.
At the bar I ordered a draft beer and a shot of bourbon. It had been a day since I"d taken the pills they"d given me for pain. I was no longer sick. I knew if I felt like St. Nacho’s 3: Jacob’s Ladder
61
it, I could drink safely. There was no one to answer to and nowhere to go but back to my motel room on foot.
“Here you go,” said the bartender. “Bourbon, beer back. Eight bucks.”
“Thanks.” I slapped a ten down on the bar and said, “Keep it.” The music was loud, but not painfully so. The mix was good—dance tunes with a romantic ballad thrown in every few songs for the gropers. I ordered a plate of nachos, and they were damn good, cheesy and hot, with plump tomato bits and shredded chicken, topped with avocado slices and jalapeño discs. Someone reached over my shoulder for one of my chips, and I looked up to see Cam grinning at me.
Why is it always so easy to hook up with the one who doesn"t make your heart race?
“Whatcha up to?” he asked, taking a big bite of one of the few remaining chips.
He got sour cream on his lip, and I thought then that if it had been JT, I"d have licked it off and promised to follow up on that anywhere else he…
“What?” he said, surprising me. “What"s that look for?” I shook my head. “Nothing. I thought you were working?” Cam rolled his eyes. “What does it say about me that I hang around the firehouse even when I"m off shift? There"s always something to do, and resources are a little thin. Plus, it's easy money playing poker with the boys.” I pushed my nachos toward him, indicating he could eat as much as he liked, not that he wouldn"t have eaten them anyway.
“Come dance with me.” Cam pulled me off the bar stool and asked the man sitting next to me to watch my food.
“You"re not supposed to do that.” I pulled away and sat back down, wedging him in between me and the other guy. “I don"t leave my drinks unattended.”
“That"s "cause you live in the wicked city,” he told me, already grooving, waiting for me to finish my beer but dancing so close he was practically humping my leg. “Here you can leave your stuff. It"s safe.” At the risk of seeming paranoid, I finished my beer and put it down on the bar.
Cam sashayed backward as he pulled me into the throng. We danced for a few minutes, and I became fully aware that I was in no shape to be doing it. I was a little loose from the booze, although not yet drunk, but I was tired and grateful when they played a slow song that I didn"t recognize. Cam was a man you could grab onto, and he"d hold you
After that he took off running, and I let him go.
* * *
St. Nacho"s sits poised on the most awesome crest of land overlooking the endless sea. Once what little sun there had set and the breeze dissipated the fog, the moon rose high in the sky, peeking every now and again from behind a veil of swiftly moving clouds. I don"t know how long it took—hours maybe—until I stepped down from the pier into the sand. I could hear the music from Nacho"s Bar in the distance, and I made my way toward it. Cars parked everywhere on the streets around the brightly lit building. The violin music of dinnertime had given way to the heavy, rhythmic thump, thump of dance music.
The first thing I noticed when I got close was the number of people milling around outside. Some were chatting, away from the noise. Some had left the building to smoke. Most were openly affectionate gay couples. They had to be coming from outlying areas, towns and cities stretched along the coastline, north and south. As I got closer, I saw people I recognized from walking around town.
Apparently Nacho"s Bar was the official place to see and be seen. There were straight couples too. When I entered, I recognized Candace at a table with a man I"d never seen before. She smiled politely at me, and I waved back.
At the bar I ordered a draft beer and a shot of bourbon. It had been a day since I"d taken the pills they"d given me for pain. I was no longer sick. I knew if I felt like St. Nacho’s 3: Jacob’s Ladder
61
it, I could drink safely. There was no one to answer to and nowhere to go but back to my motel room on foot.
“Here you go,” said the bartender. “Bourbon, beer back. Eight bucks.”
“Thanks.” I slapped a ten down on the bar and said, “Keep it.” The music was loud, but not painfully so. The mix was good—dance tunes with a romantic ballad thrown in every few songs for the gropers. I ordered a plate of nachos, and they were damn good, cheesy and hot, with plump tomato bits and shredded chicken, topped with avocado slices and jalapeño discs. Someone reached over my shoulder for one of my chips, and I looked up to see Cam grinning at me.
Why is it always so easy to hook up with the one who doesn"t make your heart race?
“Whatcha up to?” he asked, taking a big bite of one of the few remaining chips.
He got sour cream on his lip, and I thought then that if it had been JT, I"d have licked it off and promised to follow up on that anywhere else he…
“What?” he said, surprising me. “What"s that look for?” I shook my head. “Nothing. I thought you were working?” Cam rolled his eyes. “What does it say about me that I hang around the firehouse even when I"m off shift? There"s always something to do, and resources are a little thin. Plus, it's easy money playing poker with the boys.” I pushed my nachos toward him, indicating he could eat as much as he liked, not that he wouldn"t have eaten them anyway.
“Come dance with me.” Cam pulled me off the bar stool and asked the man sitting next to me to watch my food.
“You"re not supposed to do that.” I pulled away and sat back down, wedging him in between me and the other guy. “I don"t leave my drinks unattended.”
“That"s "cause you live in the wicked city,” he told me, already grooving, waiting for me to finish my beer but dancing so close he was practically humping my leg. “Here you can leave your stuff. It"s safe.” At the risk of seeming paranoid, I finished my beer and put it down on the bar.
Cam sashayed backward as he pulled me into the throng. We danced for a few minutes, and I became fully aware that I was in no shape to be doing it. I was a little loose from the booze, although not yet drunk, but I was tired and grateful when they played a slow song that I didn"t recognize. Cam was a man you could grab onto, and he"d hold you
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