Chapter 3 Kris
“What are you doing here?” I’m wondering if this is some kind of joke. Why is barista Dave here instead of my hookup?
“I live here. What are you doing here?” He leans against the door frame, all tense and tight.
“Do you have a roommate or something? This is apartment 201, right?” I try to look around him, but he blocks my view. Both of our phones chime at the same time. That distinctive, telltale sound of a hookup. “Wait. You’re HAL69000?”
“Fuuucck.” Dave exhales.
The moment stretches as I notice his flimsy clothes and his damp hair curling softly against his neck. My eyes run over his lightly muscled arms and legs, dark hair contrasting with his pale, smooth skin. I wish I could see his ass.
I look back at his face. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he realizes I’m his hookup, and that this is an embarrassing situation. At least, it’s embarrassing for him. I think it’s fucking hilarious.
“It’s clear this was…an error. I think you should go,” he says, closing his eyes.
I fully intend to do just that, but I can’t resist making him squirm a little. I pull up the app and read his profile out loud.
“5’9”, Brown hair, twunk, bottom. I guess it all tracks. But we could have both saved some time if you had told me you wanted me earlier.”
His cheeks go red, and he glares at me. Fuck, this is priceless.
“Believe me, you would know if I was interested. I most definitely am not.” He steps away from the doorframe.
“Ouch. So, why’d you swipe right?” I lean in just a little to see how he’ll react. He doesn’t back down. In fact, he takes another step closer.
“Because I wasn’t paying close attention and you’re the only top in a 3-mile radius.”
“Stop, or you’ll hurt my feelings. You haven’t asked if I guessed it was you,” I say in a low voice.
“Because I don’t want to know.”
“I didn’t guess. I just wasn’t feeling picky tonight.” I smile at him, and he looks like he’s going to punch me.
“Get out,” he practically growls.
“Sorry. You’re fun to tease.”
His dark eyes blaze into mine, and for a moment, all I can think about is pushing him against the door and ripping off those silky shorts he’s wearing. Whispering something filthy in his ear. Spreading him. Hearing him moan.
Something must show in my expression, because he blinks and steps back.
“Go home Kris. I’ve got more important things to do.” His hand slides back to the door handle.
“Sure. Of course you do.” I step back and give him one last look. That is one fuckable barista. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the last remnants of my fantasy. “Next time I won’t let you off so easily,” I say as I turn away.
“There won’t be a next time.” He pushes the door closed and I hear the lock click.
On the train home I’m hopping with unspent energy. When I left Dave’s place, I grabbed my phone to find another guy but then stopped and slid it back in my pocket. Failing to fuck Dave was more fun than actually fucking most other guys I meet. The look on his face! The way his shoulders tensed, and cheeks reddened as I teased him was total perfection.
I can’t wait to go to work on Tuesday. Is he going to be all uptight and awkward? Angry? I feel like I’m either going to get fired, punched, or maybe, get the chance to fuck him the way I imagined. What’s funny is, it will be a win no matter what. I like the idea of tussling with him, whether it ends in bruises or boners. Maybe both?
The train pulls up to my stop and I hop off when the doors open. This is the only part that sucks about the evening: the going home to my empty apartment.
I would usually take the bus, but I need to burn some of this energy off or I’ll never sleep. I could go to a bar, or get in a fight, something, but I’m getting too old for that shit. I just want to calm down and chill.
I walk south past the parking structures and fast-food joints, in the opposite direction of the fancier neighborhoods of Los Feliz and Silverlake. As I get deeper into East Hollywood, the streets narrow, and the businesses fade into small houses and apartment buildings. It feels like home to me, maybe because it’s rough around the edges. My boots click against the cracked sidewalk as I turn down my street. There’s a bus stop, a liquor store, and a gas station on the corner.
Someone’s slumped against the bus stop wall. It’s one of those stops where the bastards took away the bench so no one could sleep there. I’m about to leave when I recognize the skull ring glinting on the man’s hand. I stop and look closer…there was this old roadie I used to work with, Jerry. He had a ring like that.
I remember because whenever he would slap my back or shake hands, that thing would poke me good. I’d curse him out and tell him to throw it away, but Jer would just laugh. He was a good dude, someone you could trust, which wasn’t too common in the music business.
I step closer. In the dim light it’s hard to tell, but the guy with the ring is roughly the same size as Jer. His long gray hair is covering most of his face, but I feel in my bones it must be him. I reach out and tap his shoulder. He flinches but doesn’t awaken. I tap again, harder. His eyes flash open and he swats my arm away. I think he might jump me. I do not want to fight Jer, so I quickly step back.
“Hey Jer, it’s me, Kris. I was a roadie with you, remember?” He stills, then shakes his head like he’s clearing the cobwebs. “We worked a show at the Roxy together in 2015. It was you, me, and my friend Jules,” I continue.
“Kris?” He looks at me and it’s obvious he’s struggling.
“Yeah, Kris from Spokane. Do you remember?”
“Of course! Kris from Spokane. Haha! Say hello to the cows for me. I remember you.”
Jer always would tease me and Jules for being rednecks, which was a fair assessment.
“Are you alright, man?” I ask, now that Jer seems like himself again.
“Yeah, doing great. Just another wild night. You know how it is.”
I do know, but my gut tells me Jer isn’t telling me the whole story.
“I’m on my way home. I live right by here. Do you want to crash on the couch or something? Like old times?” I ask.
He looks away and rubs his hands over his face. He’s got about a week’s worth of silver stubble on his cheeks and his fingernails are dirty and cracked.
“Don’t want to put you out, Kris. I’m doing fine. Just heading home.”
“Of course. You can stay over until the sun comes out. Have a bite. Take a shower. You’ll be doing me a favor. It’s as boring as shit there by myself.”
“You never could stand being alone, could you?”
I groan. I had forgotten that Jer witnessed some of the embarrassing mishaps of my youth when I was homesick and afraid. Ah well, it was long time ago.
“Alright, I’ll keep you company.” He grins.
“Follow me. I’m just down there.”
“You got it, Skipper.”
Damn, that nickname. Jer smiles at me and slaps me on the back. I feel the familiar sting of that blasted ring, but also that comfort he always used to bring.
“Come on, old man. I need my beauty sleep.”
He laughs loud, and it echoes through the quiet streets. I smile to myself and start walking.