9. Wylie #2
“You are a menace,” Diego replied, but there was good humor to it too, and judging by the rod pressed up against his hip, Wylie wasn’t the only one thinking about fucking.
“You’re lucky I don’t spank your ass for that mouth of yours.
” Diego stood and brushed himself off, subtly adjusting his swim trunks, which were tight around his dick and then, with a final head shake at Wylie, turned and jogged off to the water.
Well, if that wasn’t an invitation… Wylie tossed aside his ball cap and sunglasses to pursue his prey. The water wasn’t much cooler than the air outside, but it was refreshing nonetheless.
“Did your mother have blue eyes too?” Diego asked after they’d waded around for a bit.
Wylie blinked at the unexpected question. “No, green. Like bottle glass.” Diego nodded. “Why?” Wylie wanted to know. He couldn’t ask a question like that without any follow up.
“They’re striking,” he said, then splashed him in the face and turned away to swim laps.
Cat and mouse, that was fine, Wylie could play.
Wylie watched Diego for a few minutes, his muscular body cutting through the water like a tiger shark, and thought about how none of his exes had ever given him such a nice, albeit reluctant, compliment.
Christ, was he catching feelings already?
Time to plan their first wedding song. He had to play it cool, though, or else Diego might head for the hills.
Judging from his freak out earlier that week, he seemed the type to bolt if things got too serious.
Wylie was just about to dunk himself under the water to cool off when something grabbed his ankle.
“Eeeek!” Wylie let out an unmanly shriek and jumped about five feet into the air, thrashing to get away, as Diego rose from the depths like a shredded Poseidon with a full belly laugh.
“What the fuck?” Wylie spluttered. “That shit ain't cool. There’re sharks in these waters.”
“I’ll protect you,” Diego said, then lunged at him again.
Wylie fought him off, barely, and the two tussled in the water, dunking and shoving each other, attempting to throw one another in the air, but being mostly unsuccessful at it.
Finally, half-drowned and with saltwater burning his nostrils, Wylie dragged himself out of the water with Diego nipping at his heels, and they both collapsed with exhaustion on their respective beach towels.
“You might be stronger than me, but I’m scrappy,” Wylie said, in case Diego thought he’d been beaten.
“No doubt. I wouldn’t want to meet you in a back alley. You probably scratch and pull hair.”
Wylie certainly wasn’t above it. He knew it was stupid to think this way, but he didn’t want Diego thinking less of him because he didn’t know how to fight. “Just because I’ve never been in a fight, doesn’t mean I couldn’t hold my own,” Wylie said.
Diego’s teasing expression changed into something more thoughtful. “I could teach you some moves if you want. Some basic self-defense.”
“Okay,” Wylie said slowly. “I mean, couldn’t hurt. I’mma have to beat Fuckface MacPherson’s ass one of these days, anyway."
“Facts,” Diego said and reached for the cooler to pull out his sub, offering the other one to Wylie. They ate lunch while shooing off the seagulls who tried to encroach on their territory.
“So, criminal law,” Diego said between bites. “What’s up with that?”
“I have a plan. I’m going to be a public defender until I get my loans paid off, and then I’ll transition into private practice and start raking in the big bucks. By then, I’ll have a ton of experience and know all the judges. They’ll all love me, obvs, so it’ll be easy.”
Wylie hoped it would be easy. He was good at arguing, good at getting his way, and he enjoyed reading and writing when he was able to focus. Nancy had said he’d make a great lawyer, and that had to count for something.
“Why defense? I mean, what if you know they’re guilty? Would that be hard for you?”
Diego wasn’t the first person to ask him that.
“It’s not really about whether they’re guilty or not, it’s whether the state has enough evidence to prove it.
That’s the cool thing about our legal system.
When applied fairly, only those with enough evidence against them get convicted.
Otherwise, we’d be imprisoning people based on hunches and gut feelings and things other people said, and they might be lying.
Of course, there’s human bias, and some laws are just bullshit, but overall, it’s a pretty decent system. ”
Diego had his thinking face on, eyes squinting beneath a furrowed brow. “What about, like, serial killers who are really good at hiding the evidence?” he asked.
“It’s a lot harder these days with DNA analysis and phone data, but sure, it’s possible.”
“Would it bother you to defend someone like that?”
“It might, but everyone deserves a solid defense and a chance to plead their case. It’s what separates us from the animals, you know?
” Wylie loved law because it wasn’t black and white, but infinite shades of gray with different ways to maneuver and outflank your opponent.
Winning was part of it too, for Wylie. He said to Diego, “Not gonna lie, a lot of what I know about law, I learned from watching Law and Order with my mom. That was her favorite show when I was growing up.”
“I watched a lot of Perry Mason with my grandmother. But aren’t the defense attorneys the bad guys?”
Wylie shook his head. “Injustice is the bad guy, and sometimes injustice wins. In real life too. Once I get into law school, I might change my mind. There are a lot of different practices to choose from. Or, I might hate it altogether. I gotta shoot my shot though, you know?”
Diego nodded. “I think it’s really cool that you’re pursuing it. I bet your mom would be proud. Did she know you wanted to be a lawyer?”
“No, I used to want to be a professional water slide tester, among other things.”
Diego erupted with laughter at that, his whole body shaking, and he nearly choked on his sandwich. Wylie thumped his back and was prepared to do the Heimlich, but he recovered soon enough. He loved that he could make such a serious man crack up like that.
“Fall back, I guess,” Diego said, still wheezing.
They finished up lunch and laid out in the sun to let their food settle.
Wylie donned his sunglasses and admired Diego’s resting form while pretending to nap.
He wanted to lick every inch of the man’s skin from head to toe.
He wondered how Diego might feel about foreplay–would he enjoy a long, drawn-out session or would he prefer to bump uglies right away?
A lot of his exes hadn’t had the patience for any sort of build-up, which put edging out of the question, but maybe with Diego…
Wylie must have fallen asleep because he stirred again to Diego shaking his shoulder and the sounds of an air horn blasting across the water.
“You know those women?” he asked.
Wylie boosted himself up on one elbow and shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun.
Rita and Pamela waved to them from where they’d anchored their Boston Whaler in the shallow water near the pier.
Pamela was wearing her trademark teeny bikini while Rita wore a long-sleeved sun shirt, shorts, and a wide-brimmed boating hat to protect her freckled and fair skin from the sun.
Rita was about to blast the horn again when Wylie sat up and waved back.
“Righteous. They came through.” He turned to Diego. “Those are the friends I told you about, Rita and Pamela. Want to go for a ride?”
Diego glanced from the boat to all of their stuff littered on the beach.
“We can leave all this shit here. No one will mess with it, probably. Just bring your wallet and your phone. It’s shallow enough that we can wade there.”
“Okay,” Diego said, seeming cautious but willing to go with it. They stood and grabbed their stuff, then made their way out to the boat, aptly named, Scissor Me Timbers.
Rita dropped the floating deck and they both climbed aboard.
Wylie made introductions and Pamela offered them towels to dry off while shooting him a look that said, Damn, he’s fine, to which Wylie smugly nodded.
They chatted for a bit about the weather–hot as hell–and the pit, same as always.
Pamela had worked there for a spell before she got a big-girl job in finance, and she wanted to know about Frank and Hannah and Fuckface MacPherson, which Wylie was happy to share, including the latest incident at his birthday party.
“She’s still with him though?” Pamela asked. She knew all about the trials and tribulations of Hannah and her loser sperm donor.
“Yeah,” Wylie said with a sigh of disappointment.
“Too bad,” Pamela said, shaking her head.
“You don’t drink?” Rita asked Diego, who had declined her offer of an ice-cold craft beer.
“No, not anymore,” Diego replied.
“It’s bad for you,” Pamela agreed as she took another sip of her White Claw. “Bad for your liver, bad for your skin.”
“Bad for decision-making. For me anyways,” Diego agreed.
“So, how’d you meet?” Pamela asked, gesturing with her can to the two of them.
“We met at work,” Wylie answered. “You should see the way Diego handles the meat.” Wylie winked at Diego, who rolled his eyes and blushed adorably as Wylie continued, “I’ve been eyeing him for a while now, finally convinced him to give me a shot.”
“You’re very persistent,” Diego said as his own defense. Pamela nodded in agreement.
“Are you in school?” she asked Diego.
“No, I never went to college. I’m thinking about taking some business classes though.”
“That’s cool,” Wylie said, since this was the first he’d heard about it. “SPC has a good business program. Weren’t you in their business school before you went to USF?” he asked Pamela.
“Yeah, I got my AA from there and then transferred for accounting. There’s a lot of online options for people who work full-time jobs. And they have a foundation that offers tuition assistance.”