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I looked to my right and saw him just as he was turning.
Like a lion stalking its prey, I followed after him, not exactly sure of what I’d find but trusting my instinct to follow. I turned onto the busy street. It was lined with classic cars, all sporting freshly waxed paint jobs, their bold reds and bright blues glittering like gems under the sun. There must have been some kind of car show in town. A fresh ocean breeze drifted in and helped keep the heat manageable, aided further by fans on restaurant patios spraying clouds of mist onto the sidewalk.
Jesse was up ahead, walking with his head down, focused on his phone, typing furiously and almost knocking into six pedestrians and two skateboarders.
As I followed about seven feet behind him, I realized there was another instinct at play, too. One that was pulling me toward Sam, one that roared to life when that text message came through.
I wanted to follow Jesse if only to keep an eye on Sam.
Sam, Sam, Sam.
7
Sam Clark
“Thanks, Sam, have a great day!” the hairstylist cheerily said.
I walked out of the hair salon feeling like an entirely new man. It felt like the birds were all singing a little louder, and the sun was shining a little brighter, and the people I walked past all turned to look at me before bursting out into colorful and perfectly choreographed dance.
Yup. That’s how getting this haircut made me feel.
I checked myself out as I passed a heavily tinted SUV, admiring the sides of my head, which were no longer covered by a curtain of unkempt hair. I’d let myself go for way too long. Now, with the sides faded and the top cut short and styled with a matte paste, I felt like I could do a decent job at brokering world peace. Like I could tackle any kind of problem and solve it without even breaking a sweat.
At the corner, I pulled out my phone and went to Jesse’s number, deciding that maybe world peace was out of my reach right now, but I could still try to use my enhanced gay superpowers to broker another kind of peace.
My fingers dashed across the screen, the message practically writing itself.
“Jesse, I need to talk to you. I get that we haven’t been the best of friends, but this all has to end today. I want to put everything behind us, and I know Hazel wants to do the same thing. Let’s give this a shot, come and talk things out with me. Let’s meet at Cafe Cubano in thirty minutes.”
I hit Send, not wanting to overthink things. I’d been doing that lately, obsessing over things I totally shouldn’t have.
Obsessing over people.
Well, a person.
All right, fine, Rocky. I was obsessing over Rocky Hudson, the asshole detective with the pouty lips and the blizzard-blue eyes who kept popping up in my sexiest and steamiest dreams. It was almost annoying, how often I thought about him. Sometimes I’d think of how stupid he must be to suspect me of stealing my best friend’s underwear and hoarding them under my mattress. And then, other times, I’d think about how that was his job and that I was the stupid one to assume he’d see the innocence in me.
But (most of the time) I’d think of how Rocky Hudson had lit up some dormant fire inside me, a distant flame that flickered stronger and brighter the longer I thought of him, growing more and more intense by the day, surprising me with how often the inside of my core was licked by the heat.
My phone buzzed with a response from Jesse. “I’ll be there” was all it said.
The crosswalk sign blinked on, and I followed the flow of people. The road ahead, lined with tall, skinny palm trees, seemed to stretch out into the ocean, as though the concrete blended in with the sand, which then blended into the water, to then merge with the sky. The bright blue water mixing with the soft blue of the sky reminded me of Rocky’s eyes, painting them across my vision.
Yeah, Rocky has me all kinds of messed up.
I took a turn, away from the beach, toward the coffee shop I told Jesse to meet me at. It was a Cuban coffee shop, so you knew you were in for a massive shot of adrenaline with every cup. As I got closer, I could smell the sweet coffee beans being ground up, the scent alone already making me feel more awake.
Good. I’ve got to be on my toes right now.
The coffee shop was a trendy establishment, with plenty of outdoor seating underneath a large silky blue tarp, protecting the chatting coffee drinkers from the hot Miami rays. It was midafternoon and the sun beat down hard on the pavement, reflecting off the glass door as I opened it and stepped inside, instantly being hit with a blast of cool air and an even stronger scent of delicious coffee.
