Hot Lava (5 page)

“Aloha,” we said, introducing him to Will but neglecting to inform him of Will’s connection to the US government. Deceitful, but wise, all things considered.

“Yikes,” the lad said, taking in my new beau. “The thermometer just shot up to
hot
.”

“Down, boy,” I cautioned. “Better yet, go cool off in the ocean.”

“Better still,” Will said, pointing to the yellow catamaran with the red and yellow striped sails, the
Na Hoku II
, which was roped in just to our right, “let’s all go in. On that.”

Brandon yelled to the man with a clipboard who was standing where the rope ended. “Is there booze on that there boat?”

The man nodded, hollering back, “One low price, all-you-can-drink margaritas.”

If the guy only knew how much we two could drink, he might’ve not made that offer. In any case, we were up in a flash, jumping over the barrier between our private lot of sand and the,
blech
, public one. The guy took our names and our money, a paltry twenty dollars each, and told us to watch our steps going up and on. For twenty bucks, all you could drink, it wasn’t the going up he should’ve been cautioning us about. In fact, I couldn’t imagine how we’d ever make it back down. (Or even want to.)

It was our first catamaran ride. None of the four of us had ever been on one. For Brandon and I, though we live a mere five miles from the water, our particular stretch of ocean is always cold, always choppy, and usually fogged in. In other words, the closest we ever get to boats are the ones that float by us with sushi on top of them. (And sake nearby, of course.) Needless to say, we were all excited, and showed it by graciously accepting the first margarita. None for our underage friend, though, try as he might to lay his grubby little mitts on one.

Minutes later, with the catamaran full of grinning tourists, the rope was untied and we were off, the engine pulling us quickly out to sea as a crewman, one of three plus a waddling dachshund, blew a conch shell, warning the swimmers and surfers in front of us to move the hell out of the way. We four watched, mesmerized, as our beautiful hotel and banyan tree grew smaller and smaller, our line of vision growing wider and wider, taking in the whole of the stunning Waikiki coastline. Long, narrow, and lush. (Which, ironically, could also be used to describe Brandon.) The ocean was calm (enough) and a deep, cool blue. Diamond Head, off to our far right, towering high above, loomed ever-present. Picture-postcard perfect!

“Beautiful,” I yelled into Will’s ear, over the sound of the whipping breeze and engine roar.

He locked eyes with me and grinned. “Yes,” he said, lustfully, sending a ripple through my bathing trunks and a pounding to my heart.

We stood up and leaned over the railing, our bodies rising and falling and swaying with the waves. My eyes scanned the shore, moving from hotel to hotel, from palm tree to palm tree, to the mountains that rose up just beyond Waikiki, dotted with endless houses nestled among impossibly steep slopes. The clouds, white and billowing, moved in and around the top of the green peaks. Breathtaking. As was the company. Will’s hand covered my own as he leaned in tight against me. Snug as a bug in a, um, boat.

And then he was pointing and hollering. “Whale!” he shouted, his voice full of excitement.

All of the boat’s passengers ran to our side, all of them pointing, all of them shouting. A whale had breached the surface not a hundred feet to the right of the bow, the beast massive in size, dark and knobby, its humongous frame lunging sideways with a fin that seemed to wave to us before it crashed back down. My smile was so wide that it hurt, and my breath was caught in my throat. A whale! A fucking whale!

“A whale! A fucking whale!” Brandon yelled. (Yes, I know, scary that our minds are in sync like that.)

All those around us watched in stunned silence. And then the peace was shattered by the dog barking behind us. We all ran to the other side, thinking that the whale had swum around us and breached yet again. Sadly, it wasn’t the whale that had breached; it was a body, upside down and bobbing with the current. Lifeless and blue as the water.

Most of the people on the boat averted their eyes, save for Will and the crewmen. The captain steered us closer, and two of the men pulled the body out. Again there was silence, except for a few sobbing passengers. The body was then dragged up front and flipped over.

It was Will who spoke first. “Lenny,” he whispered, making the sign of the cross over his chest.

Brandon and I couldn’t help but look. The man was naked, blue, as I’ve said, and bloated. Still, it seemed he’d not been dead all that long. It was clearly the man we’d been searching for, his neck slashed, the wound gaping, jagged. We retched and quickly turned away.

Koni walked over and had a look, then came back over to our group. “That the guy you were looking for, dudes?” he asked.

“
Were
looking for, yes,” I replied, with a whimper.

“Hmm,” he hummed, pulling on the small goatee that managed to sprout from his chin.

“Why
hmm
?” Brandon asked.

“He’s the drug smuggler? I mean,
was
the drug smuggler?” Koni asked.

“Supposed drug smuggler,” I replied. “Again, why?”

“Dude was dumber than dirt. I mean, I don’t know how smart you have to be to be a drug smuggler, but I’d think it takes a bit of, I don’t know, common sense.”

“But you told us that you didn’t know Lenny,” I reminded him.

“I don’t. Didn’t. Not by name, anyway. Used to see the guy at the bars. Hard to miss. He was cute. And stupid. Ditzy. Nellie as the day is long. Flight attendant, I can believe. Drug smuggler, nah, no way. But that’s just my opinion. Guess anyone can smuggle drugs up their ass, even idiots. I suppose it made for a good cover.”

Brandon and I looked at each other, clearly thinking the same thing. You had to be stupid to smuggle drugs, but to get away for it for a year, at least, you couldn’t be that big of an idiot. Maybe we were seeing things as we wanted to see them, but still, it was proving our hunch correct. Then again, seeing as the dead told no tales, we weren’t going to find that out from Lenny.

I leaned in to Will and held my hand over his ear. “I know you’re not going to want to hear this, and I know it’s inappropriate to say,” I whispered, “but you’re off the hook now. The authorities can’t tie his escape to you, or us, anymore.”

He frowned and whispered back, “True, but his death is my fault. He’d still be alive if I hadn’t gotten into the limo with you two. But at least now I can offer my services to the local police under the pretense that I brought him in, and the murder of an interstate drug smuggler falls under the FBI’s umbrella.”

“
Supposed
interstate drug smuggler,” I corrected.

“Maybe,” Will said. “Still, he knew something about something, or he wouldn’t be wearing that new neckline of his. And the kid was right about one thing: a stupid flight attendant does make for a good cover. In any case, you two are out of this now. Too dangerous.”

I looked back at the Waikiki coastline, our hotel growing closer and closer, beautiful, majestic, tainted forever by what lay behind us on the boat. He was wrong, though; we’d still help. Had to help. It was our fault, too. Inadvertently, but still our fault. I could see it in the crease in Brandon’s forehead that he was thinking the same thing. (Or maybe he was just thinking that he needed a drink, his cup now empty.)

“Okay, no more helping,” I lied to Will, and then leaned in to Brandon’s ear. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“What? That I need a drink? Or three?” -- See! -- “Or that we need to do some Judy and Liza shopping when we get back? Our drag alter-egos are about to make a comeback, I take it.” (Too bad our minds were in sync on that one. I liked the drink option a whole lot better.)

“Well,” I said, forcing a smile, “at least we get to do some clothes shopping.”

“Way to go, Chase. Always look on the bright side.”

We both turned and stared at the corpse not twenty feet from us. “Let’s hope there is a bright side, Brandon. ‘Cause right now things are looking kinda dark.”

And they were going to get a hell of a lot darker.

(Cue the ominous music.)

Chapter 3

Information Gained

The body was taken away. Brandon and I, along with Koni, returned to our beach chairs. Will, not wanting to let on to Koni about who he really was, said he was going back to his hotel, when in reality he was following poor Lenny. Or Lenny’s remains, at any rate.

“That was fucked up,” our newly-acquired friend said, stating the obvious.

“But you’re still gonna help us find Jed, right?” I asked.

“You still want to find him? What’s the point? His boyfriend is dead. Case closed.”

Brandon looked my way and shrugged, replying, “Humor us, kid.”

“Fine,” he agreed, “just so long as I still get the room for the night. And board.”

We both turned to look at him. “Who said anything about board?” I asked.

“My price went up when the dead dude floated by,” he informed us, his arm raised, motioning for a cocktail waitress to come over. “You guys want anything?”

“Drinks!” we hollered in unison. (See, there goes that scary mind-meld again. Sometimes, I guess, it comes in handy.)

***

Exhausted by the day’s events, we soon lumbered back to our rooms for a much-needed nap. Brandon and I went to his room, Koni to mine. Strangely, I didn’t mind the company, all things considered. (There’s safety in numbers, you know.)

“I have to say, I agree with the kid,” Brandon said, behind closed doors. “That was fucked up.”

“Truly,” I concurred. “And let me guess, you’re feeling a tad guilty about poor Lenny, right?”

“One needs a conscience, dear friend, in order to feel guilty.”

I shook my head and hopped into bed; he followed close behind. “Please,” I said, “I know you better than that.”

“And I know you, too. You’re in this to help Will; Lenny is more of an afterthought.”

He did know me, all too well. I dropped the subject and moved on. “And what about Koni?”

“What about him?” he asked, his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

“He’s not spending just one night, is he? I mean, we’re not letting him go back to that nasty grocery store, are we?”

He didn’t answer, not immediately. “We’re in danger now, Chase. What with Lenny and Jed and all. Is it safe to keep the kid around?”

“Is it safe for him to be alone on the streets?”

He sighed. “I’m in bed with Mother Fucking Teresa.” And then he paused before eventually replying, “Fine. Besides, we’ll need a guide. Might as well be a cute one.”

The cute one in question knocked on the door a short while later. We opened it up and let him in. He had a cell phone in his hand and a beguiling smile on his face. “I called my friend. He’s meeting us at Hula’s at ten. I’d advise bringing some cash along; he’s going to strike a hard bargain.”

“I thought you said he owed you one,” I politely reminded him.

“He does, which is why he’s willing to meet. Information is extra, kind of like fries and pickles. Which, by the way, we’re getting beforehand. There’s a restaurant, Cheeseburger in Paradise, near the bar.”

“Do they have drinks there?” Brandon asked, beating me to the punch.

“Big ones, and very potent,” came the glorious response.

“Good choice, then,” said Brandon. “Now let the adults get some rest. I fear it’s gonna be a long and painful night.”

***

The burger joint was just up the street, past the substation and down a beautiful stretch of sidewalk, with the ocean to our right and hotels and shops and restaurants to our left. Dusk was fast approaching, and brightly lit tiki torches appeared on all sides. As we strolled along, we passed endless varieties of trees, none of which I’d ever seen before, each with its own signature flower and bouquet. The sun, descending rapidly now, cast a brilliant orange and pink tinge across the sky, which was stunningly reflected in the ocean below. It was hard not to get swept up in the moment.

Within minutes, we reached a statue of Duke Kahanamoku, the Father of International Surfing, his arms outstretched, dozens upon dozens of purple and white leis festooned over them, draping beautifully downward. Koni pulled us over onto the public (yuck again) beach, already lined with hundreds of people waiting for the inevitably brilliant Hawaiian sunset.

We plopped down on the warm sand, Brandon and I sandwiching our new friend, temporarily forgetting the awful circumstances that had brought us together. Cruise ships massed along the horizon, each trying to provide an optimal view of the sun as it made its expected plunge. We watched from our own vantage point, stunned by the natural beauty, awed by the grandeur of it all.

“Not like back home,” I commented.

“Back home the buildings are too tall or the fog too thick,” Brandon responded.

Koni coughed and looked wistfully forward, not saying a word. Perhaps the mention of
home
was too depressing. I instinctively put my arm around him. He turned my way and smiled. “Pretty, ain’t it?” he asked. “The free things in life always are.”

I nodded and again stared ahead. The sun met the ocean in a blaze of red, turning the coast a golden hue. “Beautiful,” I finally answered him, with a heavy sigh.

The sky just as quickly changed to a darkening purple and the temperature comfortably dropped. We stood back up and continued on to our destination, a mere few short blocks away. It hit me how all the beauty, the spectacle, was oceanside, and several blocks away, life, dirty and sometimes cruel, reigned supreme. A strange dichotomy. Easy to turn a blind eye to. Unless your eyes were suddenly pried opened, as ours had been merely by our chance encounter with Koni. I ached to know his circumstances; sadly, we had other fish to fry. The timing just wasn’t quite right, not yet. But soon. Unavoidable as the sunset we’d just witnessed.

“Busy restaurant,” Brandon observed upon our approach.

“Tourist trap,” Koni explained. “Big burgers, big fries, big drinks. Cheaper than hotel food. Sometimes they give me leftovers out the back door. Nice to be entering through the front for a change.”

Brandon and I frowned. “I need a drink,” I proclaimed.

“Oh, God, yes,” Brandon agreed.

Koni laughed. “Sorry, dudes. I forget how depressing my life is. I’ll try to perk things up for the rest of the night, promise.”

Trust me, perking up is just what we needed. Or at least soon would. Luckily, we got the last table. Then again, given Brandon’s flirting with the host, I wasn’t all that surprised. (Sometimes it pays to have an easy lay for a best friend.) Drinks and dinner were quickly ordered, the drinks being downed lickety-split and just as quickly re-ordered.

“You guys have a serious problem,” Koni said.

“Not a problem so much as a mild addiction; we could stop if we wanted to,” I replied.

To which Brandon promptly added, “We just don’t want to.”

“No,” Koni told us, his face scrunched up. “I mean, you guys have a problem.” He was pointing outside the window. A cop car was across the street, its lights whirling red. Two officers were shoving a man inside. “That’s my friend, Buck. The one we were meeting in a couple of hours.
Were,
as in not anymore, obviously.”

“Fuck,” I cursed, with a groan.

Koni grinned. “Maybe not. This could be a blessing in disguise.”

“How so?” Brandon asked.

“Buck works for Jed. Well, worked, anyway. With Jed gone missing, Buck is pimpless.”

“Ah,” Brandon ahed. “Meaning no one to bail him out.”

“You catch on fast,” Koni said.

“Not normally,” I corrected. “The booze must’ve lubricated his brain. In any case, what you’re saying is we’re not done scratching backs just yet, are we?”

“That’s right,” came his reply. “Besides, he’s probably pissed off that Jed flew the coop. Your bailing him out might be just the thing to get his tongue to wagging.”

“So let me get this, for lack of a better word,
straight
. We’re not leaving here and going to a gay bar; we’re leaving here and going to a police station?” Brandon asked with a scowl.

Koni nodded and took a giant bite of the burger that had arrived.

“Goody,” I said, shoving a fistful of fries inside my mouth.

“I hate police stations,” Brandon commented.

“Trust me, I know,” Koni agreed, in between chews and swallows. “But it’s for the greater good. Plus, he’ll owe me one, too. A win-win all the way around.”

I raised my hand for the waiter. “Speaking of rounds, how about a drink-drink,” I said. “I think we’ll be needing them-them.”

***

We finished our meals and took the short walk back to the substation. Needless to say, the reverse stroll was not as pleasant. There was, however, a silver lining: my itsy-bitsy bladder proved beneficial, for a change.

Brandon and Koni went up to the front desk to see what they could do about bailing Buck out. I veered to my right, into the john. I caught sight of him immediately, a smile spreading mischievously across my face. “We have to stop meeting like this,” I announced, zipping down my fly and walking over to the urinal next to him.

Will looked over and grinned. “Not smart to pick up men in police bathrooms,” he cautioned.

“Safer than a bar, I’d imagine,” I replied.

“Good point. Mind if I ask what you’re doing here? I mean, you’re not really here to pick up men, are you?”

I grinned. “Jealous?”

He grinned back, shaking his burgeoning prick at me, the head already slick with copious amounts of precome. “Not jealous so much as curious.” He started a slow, even stroke on it.

“Well, in fact, we are here to pick up a man, only not how you meant it.”

I explained the sordid details as I led him into the lone stall. My lips were on him in two seconds flat, my hands yanking down his shorts. “Interesting story,” he replied, in between hungry sucks and slurps on my neck. “And after I get you off, I’ll see what I can do about Buck out there. Getting him off, I mean. Or out.”

“Sounds hot,” I groaned. “Now bend over and let’s see that asshole of yours.”

“Right to the point, huh?” he said, turning around and bending over.

“I give us three minutes before Brandon comes looking for me. He can smell sex from fifty feet away. Like a homo-homing pigeon.”

“Then suck away,” he offered, spreading his cheeks apart and winking his hole at me. I took a whiff and a suck, wetting him up before sliding one, then two, spit-slick digits up and in and back. He groaned and pushed his ass down, stroking his massive member as I released my own from my trunks, matching his rhythm pump for pump. His prostate grew hard in less than a minute flat. “Almost,” he rasped.

“Wait,” I told him, stroking faster, feeling the come rise from my balls. “Now.”

With my fingers ramming up against granite, I watched from between his thighs as he shot and shot and shot, the come splattering up against the wall before sliding down the tile. My own cock quivered and erupted, the white, hot spunk coating the floor beneath us. We muffled our moans as best we could, our bodies trembling in delight.

He turned around and I stood up to get eye to eye with him. “Nice,” he purred, his lips soft and tender on mine.

“Ditto,” said I, with a sly grin, my attraction to him quadrupling with each encounter. “Now, let’s go rescue this Buck guy before the cops throw Brandon and Koni in with him. By now, my friend out there has probably aggravated half the police department.”

We hurried out, Will to a side door for personnel use only, me back to my friends, who hadn’t made the least bit of headway. Brandon gave me a strange look and a sniff of his nose. “Again?” he whispered in my ear. “What’s with you and bathrooms lately?”

I held my finger to my lips, hushing him up. “I’ve got it covered. Go sit down.”

“I wouldn’t get that finger any closer to your mouth; smells funky.”

I laughed and pulled the two of them to a sitting area. Twenty minutes later, Buck emerged. He looked at us, confused. (Par for the course, right?)

“Dude,” he said to Koni. “How did you know I was here? Did you bail me out? And who are these two geezers?” (Yes, I took an instant and obvious disliking to him.)

Koni chuckled at the comment. “We saw the cops take you in and thought we’d help. These are my friends, Chase and Brandon.” He paused, obviously contemplating his next move, and then lied like a rug, much to our pride and delight. “And, yes,
they
bailed you out.” So much for going undercover, as planned. Then again, the rules seemed to have changed all of a sudden.

Buck was short and runty and baby-faced. What he lacked in stature he clearly made up for in attitude. He didn’t so much as thank us, merely nodded and pushed on by, out the door and onto the sidewalk. “Let’s go to Hula’s, I need a drink,” he proclaimed, not waiting for our response. (Though clearly we agreed wholeheartedly with him on that one.)

We arrived at a hotel, the Waikiki Grand. Sadly, by the looks of it, there was nothing
grand
about it. The club was on the second floor, through the dated lobby and up a flight of dirtied stairs. Brandon and I looked at each other but kept our mouths shut. The only difference between this place and any other strip-mall bar was the spectacular, though somewhat blocked, view of the ocean and Diamond Head. The place was sparsely populated, mostly by tired-looking tourists. The dance floor was small, the pool table dimly lit, and the music lamentable. In other words, not our scene, not by a long shot. Luckily, the drinks were strong if not super pricey. Buck chugged two shots of vodka right off the bat. Koni had a Coke and a smile. Brandon and I, naturally, went tropical: lots of fruit and booze. Then we got down to business.

“Thanks for bailing me out,” Buck managed, barely looking at us. “Fucking cops have been all over my ass lately.”

“No problem,” Brandon and I said.

“Must be tough,” Koni interjected. “Being without Jed and all.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, starting in on his third drink, slower this time. “Sucks. Jed used to set everything up for me. I don’t know how you do it on your own, dealing with all the scum.”

My stomach sank at hearing him say this. I’d temporarily forgotten about Koni’s awful circumstances, his choice of employment. If choice was even the right word.