The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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SEPTEMBER endings and beginnings 03 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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While they hightailed it cross town to the municipal building, Jean-Claude had no choice but to leave Denny O'keefe alone, which meant more or less the office ran on `auto-pilot'. Mainly Denny worked on completion to every last detail of his idea for the civic center entrance. Taking a break often, every twenty minutes or so, he spent his free time checking out the progress on the backyard renovation; or at least the nice view!
"Looks good!" Denny remarked for the third time within the perimeter of about sixty minutes.
"Thank you," Emre responded, measuring, then reporting back to his crude blueprint. "We need to set these blocks another quarter of an inch towards the fence, Kevin."
"We?" Kevin questioned his lover, adding a smile.
"I appeciate you help me," Emre tells him.
"No appreciation needed," Kevin replies, then on the sly, "until later?"
Almost camoflaged as part of the door frame, Denny stood. His eyes set on course acrosst the courtyard where Kevin attended to bending, lifting, contorting his bod. The afternoon sun played a part in Denny's slight salivation, Kevin's moving bod glistening, the sun reflecting off his sweaty back or as he stood, bare chest illumined under the same atmospheric conditions. Intermittenly, Denny would check out Kevin's lower anatomy, but other than what he summed up as Kevin's restive state, not much activity was occuring at crotch level.
Suddenly Denny spat out some coffee, coughed when he heard Kevin yell across the courtyard, "Why don't you come get a better look at what we're doing Denny?"
Sure,' Denny said breathlessly, I'd love a closer look!' Placing his coffee cup on the edge of a sawhorse, he made his way across the gravely surface till he stepped on newly installed slate. "So, what is it you are trying to accomplish here Emre?" Denny asked, but set his attention on Kevin.
Knowing he was being `stalked', Kevin says, "Um Emre is like, over there?"
"Snagged!" Denny replied.
It wasn't any secret, except for Emre, his mind on his work.
"You drink too much coffee," was Kevin's way of telling Denny he took too many outdoor breaks!
"I know I should cut back," Denny replied as he looked over Emre's drawing, "but caffeine is so `addictive'!"
With Denny's statement, their back and forth slinging of phrases which said one thing, but meant another halted, Emre calling attention to, "The slate will go to here," he pointed out the far side of the fence, "the gravel, it extends to here and a huge square planter will hold the first of a row of eight green, tropical plants."
"Mighty fancy." Then Denny exclaims, "Oh, the phone!" He rushes back inside.
Kevin laughs.
"What is funny?" Emre asks.
"Denny."
"What is funny about Denny?"
"His eyes. Didn't you see it?"
"Denny was looking at the garden. Then he compare it to my drawing," Emre replies.
"You've got a lot to learn bro," Kevin takes his boyfriend under his wing.
"Bro?"
"The whole time, from the moment Denny appeared at the door, till he left us, he was checking me out. Don't tell me you didn't notice Emre?"
"Oh I see that," Emre replies with a smile.
"Oh well that's what I meant," Kevin says, dropping his arm.
"It is okay," Emre says, then comically, he raises his hand and says, "but if he touch you... then I have to give him karate chop!"
Kevin busted his gut laughing out loud.
"Hey guys," Denny interrupts, this time with all seriousness about him, "That was J-C. I have to get to the bank. There's nobody else to leave in charge, so you're it. Let the phones go to the answering service. If anybody comes around, tell them to come back tomorrow or call."
It seemed like he said it in one breath and as quick as he was there, Denny was gone.
"I wonder what that was all about?" Kevin asks.
"I think about Cody, because he say he talk with Jean-Claude," Emre supposes.
"Yeah," Kevin points his finger in no particular direction, "I've seen stuff like this in the movies. I betcha Cody's been arrested and J-C is bailing him out."
Emre leans with one arm on the table, supporting his bod on a slant as he asks, "Do you think Cody kill Jaime?"
"Naw," Kevin replies. "Any of a number of things could have happened. Maybe after Cody left, Jaime was leaning on the railing... it gave way... and kerplunk! Jaime fell into the water and on his way from the pier to the water he hit his head. That's what I think happened."
"It sounds right," Emre agreed.
"Hello! Anybody around?" came a voice from over the wooden gate.
"We're here!" Kevin shouted, going for the latched gate.
"Uh hi. I'm looking for one of the person's who's name appears on the sign at the front door?"
For seconds Kevin stood there, a smile on his face, which probably the person thought was a smile to welcome him, but Kevin's thoughts encompassed the same ideas he had about Denny checking him out! At least it's what Kevin gathered when eyes dropped and a second later connected at eye level.
"Um, they aren't here," Kevin replied. "If you want I can find some paper and you can leave a phone number."
"And who might you be?" the guy's eyes remained glued to Kevin, not even aware of Emre's presence just yet.
"Kevin Halpenny. I do odd jobs around here." Then a matter of introduction, "Right now I'm helping Emre with his garden designing." And thinking this a feather in his boyfriend's cap, an `in', he says, "C'mon over and meet him."
Having his stats all summed up, Kevin figured the dude to be in his late thirties, about 5'10, athletic build. He `had' to hang at a gym a few times a week. He rounded out his opinion, the blue eyes went perfectly with the blond hair!
"This is Emre Temel," Kevin formally introduced his boyfriend. "His name hasn't been added to the list on the front door yet, because he's new around here."
Taking Emre's hand, the dude finally revealed his name, "Well, I'm always an admirer of young people wanting to get ahead." And then he said as he extended a hand, "Josh Dunzinger."
"It is good to meet you," Emre replies.
Gazing over their handshake, Dunzinger sees the drawing Emre is working from, "I see you have a layout of a garden. Is this your design?"
Kevin stood in the wings, his butt cheeks lodged against a pile of bags of cement. He lounged with his legs crossed, arms across his middle. How quickly Joshie', Kevin already had a nickname for him, turned from checking out him, to giving his full, undivided attention to Emre. Classic', Kevin thought, watching Joshie still holding Emre's hand. From his position across the yard, of course sitting in the shade, he couldn't make out the words, but knew from experience Joshie had just apologized for holding Emre's hand longer than necessary. He'd let it go on for awhile, then go over and be more assertive!
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"Thanks Mike," Brendan says.
"Yeah, thanks very much Mike," Jean-Claude reiterated, shaking Mike Knight's hand.
"Eh, it was nothing. I'm just glad to help out."
"Thank you very much," came a down-played, cordial vote of thanks from Cody.
As they left the municipal building, Cody would not shut up, thanking Jean-Claude and Brendan for coming down to bail him out, especially when it took a quarter of a million bucks out of Jean-Claude's bank account.
"Things are going to work out Cody, but as the attorney says, we have to keep everything said, private," Brendan reminded him.
"Oh I will. I just can't believe this is all happening." Stopping at the car, Cody repeats what he's said at least three times, once to Jean-Claude when he first saw him, then twice to the attorney and now again, "I didn't kill Jaime. I might have not liked what he was doing behind my back, but I loved him."
"Of course you did. I mean about loving him, not.. well.. ahem..." Jean-Claude replies. "All couples have their little squabbles from time to time."
Brendan puts in, "Even though we haven't had our first yet!"
"But this was more than a few words. I kicked Jaime out of my apartment. It was as much as telling him to get out of my life. This wasn't some puny disagreement, J-C."
Then, seeing Cody losing it, breaking down, Jean-Claude and Brendan got him into the car.
"You're staying at my place tonight," Jean-Claude said, without thinking.
But Brendan thought ot it. "Um, where we going to put him?"
"I've got two more sleeping bags in the bottom of the guest closet."
He asks Brendan, "Did I ever mention I have a younger brother?"
"No. You didn't."
"Alain," Jean-Claude replies.
"No hyphen?" Brendan inquires.
"Yes, matter of factly, `Alain-Duran', but he goes by first part only."
"I can guess why," Brendan replies. "I mean it's not as catchy as," and he says it pompously, "Jean-Claude!" And to stimulate conversation, he asks, "What do you think Cody?"
He wasn't even listening. "Huh?"
"Never mind," Brendan replies.
Summing things up, Jean-Claude says, "I'll drop you and Brendan off at my place. Then I'll take your keys and go over to your apartment and grab a suitcase full of clothes and other things you'll need."
"Thanks J-C. Last thing in the world I want to do now is go home," Cody replies. Off the cuff, he remarks, "I never want to go back."
Jean-Claude thought, at least for now, it would be a good thing to stay away. And continuing with his plans, "Tomorrow you will stay here with Brendan."
"I can go to work," Cody replies.
"I don't think it would be a good idea. I think you need some time off to yourself."
Light-heartedly Brendan says, "Yeah, we can get to know each other, take a walk and if you need somebody to talk to, I'll be here for ya."
"I better get going before prime time traffic kicks in."
It took ten minutes, tops, for Jean-Claude to drive Brendan and Cody to his place. From there, he traveled all of ten minutes to Cody's apartment. Parking, he pocketed his keys and retrieved Cody's keys from his pocket. He walked the three flights instead of taking the elevator, then walked the hall till he stood in front of 3B. Inserting the key, he found it unlocked. Walking right on in he came face to face with another dude. "Who the hell are you?"
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"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
"Shhhh!" D'Artan said, cupping his hand over Gazi's mouth. "You'll scare away the customers!"
Gazi physically removing D'Artan's hand, says, "It hurt!"
"So I see, but guess what?"
"What?"
"I think I got it all."
Gazi sits up on his elbows and pulling at his skin, looks at his pec. "This is bad."
D'Artan tries cheering him, "The spot isn't even as big as I thought it was going to be."
"It does not match," Gazi says, running his hand over the smooth patch in the middle of his forest of chest hair.
Getting up, D'Artan rationalizes, "As I see it we can do one of two things."
Gazi is silent, waiting.
"You could wait until it grows back, which would probably be no longer than a few months..."
"A few months?" Gazi questions him, running a finger over the smooth skin. "I then have to keep my shirt on at the beach. How am I going to pick up guys?"
Cocking his head, D'Artan's hips shift, a hand going to the side of his torso. "Gazi, if you plan to hang with me, your `picking up guys' days are over. Like ended? Kapeesh?"
"Oh! I forgot. You and me. Yes," Gazi tries smoothing it over. And then to set D'Artan off course, "What is second choice?"
"And easier option. Make the rest of your chest look like the smooth patch?"
"Do you mean shave off all of this?" Gazi refers to his covered pecs.
"Sure. We could leave a small patch in the middle or shave it and you can still have the stripe running down the middle."
"Ugh!" Gazi says, slapping his back down onto the surfboard. He puts his hands over his face. "What will they think of me?" meaning `guys'. "I will not be so macho!"
D'Artan laughs.
"It is not `your' chest!" Gazi complains. Again he looks and is reminded of the small patch of skin, minus the hair.
"Are you kidding Gazi? You're so fuckin' good lookin'," and D'Artan giving an inch, "guys wouldn't even notice."
"You think?" Gazi replies, still sketchy.
"Sure. Hey, why don't we close early, stop and get something to eat, then cut out and go home?"
So, rushing about to put everything in the surf shop `to sleep', in no time D'Artan was locking the door, the two on the outside.
"Pizza or seafood?" D'Artan asks. He smiled because he didn't get an answer. "I guess seafood," he chose for them.
And the whole time they traveled the boardwalk, Gazi was either picking up his shirt and looking or pulled at the front of his muscle shirt to look down it.
"Forget about it Gazi. I bet when we get your chest shaved you will like it."
"I like it hairy," Gazi replies.
"That's because it's always been that way. I mean, since it started growing in."
Adding a big of history, Gazi says, "It started when I was sixteen. Little tiny hairlings covering my pecs and stomach."
D'Artan smiled, thinking, `hairlings'!
"Then when I am seventeen it exploded! I get hair around my nips and center of my chest and below my navel. Then half year later I get more. When I am in my last year of school I have full cover."
"Thanks for the history lesson," D'Artan says, "But can we forget about your chest for now?" he asks, taking Gazi's arm, dragging him inside the seafood restaurant.
"We dress okay for this?" Gazi says of the fancy place.
"No problem. I know the owner."
As they sit, the waiter comes over, issuing them menus. While D'Artan peruses the menu selections, Gazi's eyes case the pricing.
"I think we better get pizza!"
"My treat," D'Artan says.
"Someday I treat you," Gazi replies.
Smiling, D'Artan says, "How about tonight after we get home?"
"No shave?" Gazi says with uplifted attitude.
"'After' we shave you!"
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"Say, you guys hungry?"
"Uh," Emre says, looking to Kevin.
"Are you kidding Joshie?" Kevin finally awards Josh his nickname. "Don't you know?" he places his arm over Josh's shoulders like they've been friends since birth. "Teenagers are always hungry!"
Most of the past twenty minutes, Josh has spoken to Emre, Kevin butting in to place his two cents worth of conversation, but they never got around to `why' Josh dropped by the architectural firm. "Great. We'll take my car."
"Um," Kevin says, "I like... need a shower?" He reinforced the issue, holding up both arms, parking them behind his head, flaunting his bushy, dark brown pits.
"Not a problem." And then more upbeat, "We can stop by my place, you can freshen up, we'll have a quick drink then head out."
Emre was having second thoughts, not sure if this was kosher, but Kevin replies, "Cool!"
First to strike them, telling them something about Josh, was what he was driving.
"Fan-n-ncy!" Kevin says. One hand holding his shirt over his shoulder like a coat hook, the other played along the surface of the silver BMW.
"Here! Catch!"
Kevin's quick reflexes kicked in and he caught the wad of keys on his right pec. "You want me to drive?"
"You `do' know how to?" Dunziger asks.
"Sure I do." He forgot to mention the expired driving license!
"Allow me," Josh said, holding the front door to the convertible open.
"Where you sit?"
"Right back here," Josh replies, "where I can keep an eye on you two!"
Kevin and Emre exchange looks and laugh out loud, because Josh followed his comment with the same and it sounded hilarious to the two.
"Where to?" Kevin asks.
"Make a U, then head up the road. I'll tell you when to turn."
It's been a long time since Kevin drove, at least legally, but knew the rules. "Um, I don't think we're supposed to make a U over a yellow line?"
"Fuck it!" Josh replies. "Don't worry your pretty little head Kevin. I know `all' the cops in Asbury!"
`Here goes', Kevin thought, reved up the engine, carefully backed up, turned the wheel to the left, pulled forwards and outwards a little, backed up, pulled forwards, backed up, pulled forwards and then after making sure no traffic was coming from the rear or headward, zipped across the yellow divide.
In the meantime, Emre, upon hearing Josh's comment about knowing all the cops, asks, "You know Brendan," he forgot his last name, but knew this cop-dude, "and Mike Knight?"
"Mike Knight?" Josh exclaims. "Mike and I went to Catholic school together. Man was he a rip!"
"Rip?" Emre asks Kevin for a translation.
Headed back up Lake Ave., Kevin shrugs his shoulders.
So, the two let it go over their heads.
Kevin yells, "So you know Mike?" And with hidden motives, "You know Mike pretty well, do you?"
Josh wasn't any dumb bunny, tells it like it is, "Yeah. We've been fuck buddies since eighth grade!"
"Still are?" Kevin holds the reins on the conversation.
"Occasionally."
And not afraid to ask, figuring Joshie isn't afraid of a question as such, "Mike fuck you or?"
"Make a right at the next light!"
Kevin didn't get an out right answer, being after he made the right turn, along with a new street, a new conversation ensued, all about his and Emre's relationship.
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"I'll get it. You alright?" Brendan answered and asked at the same time; the knock at the door and Cody sitting there at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea.
Wading through the rooms, Brendan places his hand on the knob and out of habit shouts, "Who is it?"
Twisting the knob, he opens the door to a short, Mid-Eastern man dressed in khaki shirt and pants, eyes picking up the carrying of a metal toolbox.
"Hello. Is Mr. Lomberiou at home?"
"Um," Brendan lifts his hand, his finger pointing at the guy and says, "you must be the repairman?"
"I am Cheb Cicek. I work here for plumbing problems?"
It was good enough for Brendan, him acknowledging, "The leaky drainpipe in the kitchen, right?"
"I am sorry Mr. Lomberiou call yesterday, but I could not come until today."
"No problem," Brendan said, welcoming Cheb inside. Any other dude, one who wasn't as so fucking-good-looking, might not have passed Brendan's test of looks and could have suffered a more subtle comment.
Cheb seemed to know his way around and made a beeline for the kitchen. "Oh hello," Cheb spoke cordially to Cody.
"Hello," Cody said somberly, looking up for a second then going back to staring at the `Asbury Park Pride' banner on the side of the mug.
Brendan set his ass back down in his chair adjacent to Cody. He informs Cody, same time letting Cheb know the malady, "Cheb is here to fix the drainpipe under the sink, which must have a slow leak."
"Okay," Cody replied still giving his mug attention.
He set his toolbox on the floor to the left of the cabinet door. Even though each unit was a smigeon different, varied styling, they all had two door access to the sink workings. He stood there for a moment eyeing the lower sink, Cody's chair smack dab in front of the two doors.
"Ache-scuse me, but I need you to move a lit-t-t-tle over that way?" Cheb confronts Cody.
"Cody," Brendan jumps on it, placing his hand on Cody's forearm, "you need to move your chair."
It wasn't any of his business, but being curious and with empathy, Cheb puts it in his own words, "You have troubles?"
Brendan is the one to announce, as he takes Cody's mug and shifts it to the other side of the table, facing the sink, Cody moving his own self. Brendan is the one to inform Cheb, "Cody has had someone close to him pass away."
"Oh. Cheb is so sorry to hear this." And Cheb never says anything he doesn't mean. It's always been this way, so furthers his comments, "I know how you feel."
Blowing up, like dynamite placed under his ass, Cody jumps up out of his chair, knocking it over and with both fists pounding on the table, "You fuckin' don't know anything of how I feel! How could you!"
"Easy," Brendan says, pulling the hot mug away from Cody, grabbing a few paper towels to quickly soak up the flow. "I'm sure Cheb is only trying to... Cody has had someone close to him pass away."
But Cheb gets a little hot under the collar. With more restrained climate, tells, "Cheb," he pertains to himself, "know how it feel to have loved one taken away. I see my whole family," he names, "my two sister, my brother... my mother, my father... they come take away and shot. I little, but I remember. My whole family die. So I know what it mean when someone loved and they not there anymore."
"OMG!" Cody was stunned. He stood there, his fists glued to the table, keeping him from caving in. "You poor man!"
"I am sorry," Cheb says. "Maybe it not same as you."
Cheb's words struck him like a dagger going through his heart. Could be Jaime's passing was sidelined by Cheb's tragedy, "How old were you?"
Brendan became the spectator, telling Cheb to sit for a moment. He placed a fresh cup of tea in front of him. What began as five minutes of talk turned into more than an hour, Cheb swapping his story for Cody's life with Jaime, from beginning to end, even though he was warned not to discuss the current matter of Jaime's death.
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Copyright 2009 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author. If you don't adhere to this condition, you run the risk of having your pants sued off you... might lose your shirt too!
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....