2 comments/  1596 views/  2 favorites

Summer Rains Ch. 03

By: Transverse



I didn't call the police.

I didn't have any information to give them, and I didn't know if Rio wanted to get the police involved. Hell, he didn't even want me involved, and if he found out that I'd called them, he might never have spoken to me again. I didn't know who this stranger was, or what he might do to Rio if he found out I'd involved law enforcement.

I know you're getting tired of hearing about my stupid and reckless decision making, but this is what happened, and I want to stay as close to the truth as possible. It would be easy for me to lie to you, to tell you that I did the right thing, the smart thing, every time, but stories like that don't help anyone. 

Almost two weeks later, it was sweltering as always and the glare on the red ground made me squint. I was parked around the back of the stable and I stood under a lean-to beside it. Rickard was watering the horses inside; their whinnies echoed against the corrugated steel roof. 

He came out, wiping his neck with a dirty towel.

"He here yet?"

"No." I wiped my palms on my thighs. "He hasn't called me back about the car either. He's not at his place, and he won't answer the phone. I figured if nothing had happened to him, he'd be out here today to see about the dogs."

He stepped under the lean-to with me and overturned a bucket. He sat on it, and one of the collies ran over and rested its chin on his leg. He petted it.

"How's he gonna get out here without the car? Or the horse?" His white hair was stringy with sweat. He ran a hand through it. "Walk?"

"You got me," I said.

Rickard was an old man, and he'd lived out in Chatsworth for over seventy years. He'd inherited the farm from his father, another Rickard, and the place must have had some kind of divine blessing. It was the only explanation for the success of the crops in that kind of terrain. As a kid, I'd visited the place five or six times a year on field trips. Rickard always let us take home whatever crops we picked, even giving us baskets his daughter weaved for sale at festivals. 

He was tall, taller than me, and lanky with long limbs and big hands. He was quick to smile and had a witty demeanor, and high brows that gave him a look of perpetual surprise. He was rarely startled, though, reacting to almost every problem with plan and a calm resolve, sure of foot and steady of hand.

"Something wrong?"

I'd been quiet. "Nothing you can help with." I gave him a weak smile.

"Aw, now, don't think that. I've seen more of life than most folks have. You shouldn't write an old man off while you're sitting under his lean-to."

I sighed. 

"I think Rio's in trouble."

"The Law kind of trouble or The Clap kind of trouble?"

I laughed, surprised at myself. "Maybe a little of both."

"Well, if that's all you got, I don't have any specific advice," he said. "Never had either kind of trouble, myself, and I'm not a lawyer or a doctor." The dog trotted away, headed into the barn, and Rickard dusted his hands against one another. "Though...you might want to find him an attorney and some penicillin. Those two are the kind of troubles that's not likely to clear up on their own."

The sound of tires rolling over rocky ground reached our ears before I could answer, and Rio stepped out of a late model SUV. He couldn't see me from where he was, so he approached Rickard as if he were alone, waving. His golden hair glowed in the desert sunlight and he was smiling, but he looked older, like he'd been digging holes in the sun for half his life.

One of the collies trotted over to him, standing on its hind legs and nuzzling at his hands. He smiled.

"I guess they're feeling better," he called, pushing the dog to the ground and walking toward us. "You finish off all the pills, Rick..." 

He walked up to the lean-to and stopped. 

"Yeah, they're gone," Rickard said, standing. He turned the bucket back over and another one of the dogs ran out to join the first. "Looks like they worked, too, they've been up and around all week."

"Good to hear," he said slowly, his eyes trained on mine. I looked back at him. 

"Nice to see you, Rio. I've been trying to get a hold of you. Ryder wants to start working on your car, but he wants half the money up front."

He frowned. "Ryder? Who's Ryder? I thought you were fixing it."

I thought fast. "The guy with the parts. He's helping me." 

Rickard gave us a curious look and walked back into the barn, the dogs whining and following him. 

"But what's it matter anyway, if you won't even return my damned calls?"

"Forget the car." He forfeited our staring contest and examined the backs of his hands. "I've got a new one, now. Five thousand was too much to fix that other one, anyway."

I scoffed. "You want to call and say something next time?"

"There won't be a next time."

"What?"

"You heard me." He turned away and started to walk back to the SUV.

"What the fuck?" I followed him, catching his shoulder. He turned to face me. 

"Nothing," he said. "Just forget it. It's none of your business."

"None of my business? I think it is my business when folks walk into my store threatening me."

He stopped breathing and his expression fell off his face, leaving nothing.

"What?"

"Yeah, a friend of yours, I think." I reached up for his face, but he swatted my hand away. "The same one who called you, am I right?"

Tears filled his eyes.

"Lan..." He was whimpering, like Rickard's collies. "Just please let it go, okay? He won't come back, I promise, I told him..."

"Who is he, babe?" This time he let me touch his face. 

"Nobody you need to know about, okay? Just...just let it be." His eyes were glassy and swimming. "And I'm sorry about your nose."

"It's fine," I told him. "They said it would only take a week or two to heal. It was a very minor break."

"It looks terrible." He backed away and started for the SUV again. "This is all my fault..."

"I can help you." He stood next to the driver's side door, back to me. "If you'll let me. You don't have to be afraid of this asshole-"

"It's not him I'm afraid of," he said. "Not really-"

"It should be him you're afraid of, he's crazy as hell-"

"It's everyone else."

"What does that even mean?" I put both hands on his shoulders, squeezing. He leaned into my touch and sighed. "Everyone else who? Does he have partners?"

"I have to go, Lan." He shrugged out of my grip and opened the door. The car pinged. "Just forget about me."

He tried to close the door, but I stood in the way, leaning in toward him. "What if I can't forget you?"

He leaned against the seat, his expression a combination of exhaustion and heartbreak. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, his golden skin shiny with sweat. 

"You have to," he said. "And if you can't, you should...you ought to remember me like this, Lan. You don't want to know any more about me. There's nothing good there. It's all wrong."

I took his face in my hands and kissed him, deep and hard. He responded, and I was unbuttoning the first shirt button when he shoved me away. 

"Don't make me do this," he said. He wasn't crying anymore, just mumbling in a low voice. "Don't make me go through this again."

I grabbed his cheek and turned his face to mine. "If I have to follow you to town and to wherever you're staying now, I will. If I have to wait outside that shitty apartment all day and all night until you come out after you run out of food, I'll be there waiting. I've never met anyone like you, Rio, and I won't be losing you to some underwear model from the seventh circle of hell." I kissed him again. "Come home with me, now, after we leave here. Or I'll have to scour the earth for you."

He wanted to refuse, I could tell, but I think he was too tired to fight me, to fight anyone, anymore. He'd been running for a long time, you see, and running takes it out of a person, even someone with as many resources as Riordan Eastlake had. It's the reason fugitives always get caught in the end. After a while, you just have to stop running and sit a spell on someone's porch and tell your story over a glass of lemonade or iced tea. 

"Follow me home," I said.

He did; I never even lost sight of him in the rearview.

He parked behind me in the driveway and followed me inside without a word. He looked even older than he had out at Rickard's, and his walk had a forlorn and surrendered quality about it, as though he was walking the plank on an enemy ship while his own crewmen looked on with satisfaction. I'd never seen someone so beat down before, and I worried that, for all my talk, I might not be able to help him after all.

He sat on a plum suede sofa in front of one of the picture windows at the front of the house and pulled his legs up under him. The couch had orange pillows and the wall was teal. A curious expression passed over his face as he pulled one of the pillows onto his lap and examined the fringe.

"You hardly seem the type for fringed pillows, Lan."

I sat on the other end of the couch, facing him, and kicked my shoes off. "Everyone needs a bit of fringe in their life, I think."

A small smile graced his lips, and some of my anxiety abated; it was good to see that tired frown ease up a little.

"Where do you even get something like this?"

"I bought it at a Bed, Bath, and Beyond in Phoenix." His arm rested on the back of the couch; I extended my own and took his hand in mine, playing with his fingers. "All the rooms in the house are um...odd as far as decorations and such go."

His eyes moved from our entwined hands to my face. "Why?"

Such a simple question, and yet it seemed to be about so much more than just my home décor. That's how Rio was, and still is, to some degree. He doesn't use many fancy words, but his little ones mean something, and have a way of digging up and dusting off and polishing buried things from inside you. 

"I dunno," I said. "Hidden wild streak, or something. I'm a pretty mellow guy, I guess, and I like it that way, but sometimes I want to do something crazy, like go streaking at noon, or buy and airplane, or a canned whip cream factory, or something. I dunno."

"Wild streak." He looked thoughtful. "I have one of those, too."

"Mmm?"

"Yeah." He looked out the window. "Done some crazy stuff."

"Like what?"

"Dated a Brazilian Japanese gang tattoo artist, once." He chuckled. "Gorgeous. Horrible lay. Did this twisty thing with his hips that nearly broke my dick off."

I laughed, and he laughed back, turning to look at me again. "I worked for my uncle for a while after that."

"What's he do?"

"Private security."

"Whoa."

"Yeah, I was a regular James Bond."

"You're making me look stupid," I said. "The most I got is orange fringed pillows and some ladies underwear."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"They don't sell men's thongs in Phoenix."

He laughed again, but only for a moment. 

"After I got out of my uncle's thing, I came back to Chatsworth. Needed something simpler, you know?"

"Not really," I said. "What with purple couches and purple skies, this place is second only to Vegas as far as excitement goes."

"Don't do that," he said. "Wild streaks are overrated. If they get too long, they can lead you to places and things you don't want." He looked down at his lap. "Be happy for your flamboyant pillows, Landon. I wish I had stopped there."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I took his other hand and scooted closer to him. 

"You really should stay out of this, Lan," he said. That peculiar sadness had crept into his voice again, and he pressed his forehead against mine. "I wish you would listen to me." 

"I am listening," I whispered. Our lips floated closer together. "I don't care."

"You should..." I could barely hear, he spoke so softly. Then our lips touched, lightly at first, then harder. His hands slid from my waist to my pecs and he pushed me until I was on my back and he was between my legs. I could feel his cock between my legs through my jeans, an ill-defined but unmistakable bulge pressing against my thigh. I reached for it, squeezing and kneading and he moaned into my mouth, pressing down harder on my chest.

He broke the kiss. "I'm getting inside you this time," he growled. 

I chuckled and then groaned when he twisted one of my nipples. My own cock was straining against the confines of my underwear, and the pressure of Rio's body only made me ache harder. 

"That funny?" He crushed our mouths together again, forcing his tongue between my lips. 

"Is this that wild streak you were telling me about?" I humped against him and he twisted my nipple again. 

"You haven't seen wild."

He'd undone my zipper somehow and his hand was creeping in through the side of my tightey-whiteys, raising gooseflesh on my thighs and coaxing precum from my cock. I opened my legs wider for him, praying he didn't take my clothes off; the feel of his bare hands on my cock while it was inside my underwear was so frightfully erotic I thought I might go soft if it stopped.

"Mmm..."

"We'll have to try this with those thongs sometime, since you love this so much..." 

His blond hair hung in his feral eyes and the muscles in his forearm worked as he stroked the underside of my cock and played with my slit. His other hand petted the top of my cock through my underwear, and the feel of the cotton and his palm at the same time had me on the brink of orgasm after only a few minutes. I was a bit embarrassed, to be honest, but I even liked that part; there was something dangerous and primal about being so easily manipulated and brought under control by a man. I'd never experienced it before, and it'll be clear as a bell in my memory forever now, on account of what happened next.

It remains the most horrifying and the most erotic moment of my life. I know that sounds odd and idiosyncratic, but it's true. I haven't even told Rio about this, not all of it, anyway, not everything I'm telling you. I still think of it when I jack off alone and I can get off in thirty seconds or less, even after all this time. I feel bad about it afterwards, and swear to stop, but the next time I'm alone and horny, there it is again, dancing in my mind and tempting my hand.

Rio stroked me rough right under the head, and I cried out. My balls started to pulse and the fluttering in my belly started in earnest and I was cumming, I could feel it, it was starting and then the glass beside us exploded.

Rio fell onto the coffee table, covered in glass and blood. I lay on my back looking over at him as he tried to stand. I couldn't hear anything and there was glass all over my jeans, but my cock was throbbing so hard I thought it was going to blast off and all I could think of was cumming and how badly I needed it. I didn't move, couldn't move, and I just laid there, throbbing and wondering why there was so much glass everywhere and when someone was going to help me cum.

Then Rio was sitting up and shaking me and there was a foul-smelling smoke wafting into the room. There was glass in his hands and it cut into my arms as he tried to rouse me. He was talking, I could see his lips moving, but I couldn't hear anything. Then he was standing and pulling me with him and we were stumbling into the kitchen and out onto the back patio. Something else broke inside and then the glass door to the patio shattered. Something whizzed past us but before I could go see what it was Rio hauled me behind him into the wilderness behind my house and into the hills. 

The rocks on the ground cut my feet and I tried to tell Rio to slow down but he pulled and tugged and yanked me forward and the whole time I was throbbing and aching and I couldn't believe how badly I needed to cum. We were high in the hills, so far in that I couldn't even see my house, when we stopped behind some shrubs and Rio sat me down and started shaking me again.

I don't remember how long that went on, but I know that after a while I could hear him talking again, and I guess he could tell I was back because he stopped shaking me and took my face in his glassy hands.

"Landon, listen to me, Landon!"

"Yeah?" It hurt my ears to speak. 

"It's okay," he said. "It's okay. I need you to stay here, okay, Lan? Just lay right here in the dirt until I get back, do you understand? I'm going to get what we need and then I'm going to come back for you. Don't move from this spot, Lan. I'm going to come back, okay?"

I laid down behind the bushes, and I remember thinking about a lot of things as I lay under the stars that night. The sun had set some time before. I didn't notice it, but I looked up at the stars while Rio was gone and I counted them, and looked for the biggest ones and tried to make shapes with them. He returned what seemed like only minutes after he left, but later he told me that it was over three hours and he'd been running as fast as he could in case I got disoriented again and wandered off.

He had a pack with him. Inside there were shoes and food and new clothes for us, clothes that I vaguely recognized as mine. This time is a bit hazy in my memory, but I remember that we ate and Rio held me and told me that he was sorry and that everything was going to be okay, he would make sure of it. He promised.