Bucky: Lyle 2

By Timothy Lee

Continuing from where book one left off, Lyle heads back out to the mean city streets in search of murder and mayhem and all kinds of other fun 'cop things'. Surprisingly, a routine traffic stop results in something most unexpected - named Bucky, and he's got all the qualifications for a runaway romance. Dieter and Michaels are back as well, both of them harboring startling secrets of their own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy Lee
• Release date: Aug 19, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452382562

Timothy Lee

Timothy Lee was born in Concord, California, and raised in South Lake Tahoe, California. Eventually he migrated northward and finally settled down in Olympia, Washington, where he now resides with his two cats, Kodora and Koji. Timothy takes his yearly vacation to the Disneyland Resort where he is allowed to wear silly mouse ears hats and act like a 10 year old.

Book preview

BUCKY

Lyle 2

Timothy Lee

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Timothy Lee

Published by Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

What readers are saying about

Bucky – Lyle 2

Very well written, just as good as the first one. A book you can read again and again

Second in the series and it was just as wonderful as the first. The characters were exceptional!!!

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1 - Recovery

Chapter 2 - Passing the Bucky

Chapter 3 - You Can Bank On It

Chapter 4 - Spying, Italiano Style

Chapter 5 - Levi and Pink Hi-Tops

Chapter 6 - Your Lance, Sire

Chapter 7 - Bringing Down the House

Chapter 8 - Strike One

Chapter 9 - Lyle and Bucky and Lance and George

Chapter 10 - Shaken, Not Stirred

Chapter 11 - A Moving Experience

Chapter 12 - The Binds that Tie

Chapter 13 - Miguel

Chapter 14 - A Dinner to Remember

Chapter 15 - Seattle

Chapter 16 - Miguel Revisited

Chapter 17 - The Ride

Chapter 18 - The Titanic Sails Again

About the Author

Other Titles

Chapter 1 – Recovery

It had been a tough decision. Not an impossible decision, but definitely a tough decision. One that had plagued Lyle Bogart ever since having dragged himself out of bed this morning. Adding insult to injury was the fact that the longer it took for him to make up his mind the more it weighed on his mind. Logically, he knew that, no, it should not have been such a big deal in the first place. Yes, he was blowing it all out of proportion. The longer he procrastinated the harder it had become to choose. There were, after all, only two choices: chicken or beef. Simple, yet somehow difficult. The major stumbling block was that for some reason Lyle just was not able to think straight today. Decisions were an off-the-map struggle.

His mind was on too many other things of greater importance. Things like whether to wear his blue jeans or sweats today. Admittedly, the blue jeans lost the battle early on solely because they were farther from the bed than the sweats so that made for a relatively easy choice. Following close on the heels of the pants debacle came the conflict of which aftershave to wear. Once again, a decision was achieved by the fact that the chosen bottle was nearest the medicine cabinet door and therefore took a minimal effort to retrieve. So, if these and other mind-numbing questions were so damned important yet so easily solved, why was it so difficult to make just one other teensy-weensy dinner decision? It was not as if lives hung in the balance.

He sat at his big desk in the third bedroom of his home that had been converted into an office, paying a couple bills that had come in the day’s mail. Childishly, his time was divided between writing checks and drawing a picture of a stick-kitty on a scratch pad. A quick peek at his email showed an empty mailbox so at this juncture he had pretty much run out of things to distract him from the nagging problem of dinner.

In a show of strength and resolve, he decided that it was getting too late to put this off any longer. With a heavy sigh, Lyle forced himself to get his act together enough to make that all-important decision. He plodded softly along the carpet in his bare feet, around a corner and into the kitchen where he then stopped in front of the refrigerator. It was watching him and he knew it. Probably even smirking at his indecisiveness as well. And did he just see it grinning?

Okay, here goes, he thought. Decision time. Taking a deep breath he opened the top door revealing the contents of the freezer. Again the problem stared him in the face. Which entrée to choose? The left side of his stomach wanted chicken but the right side wanted beef. In the custom of all great judgments, Lyle closed his eyes and grabbed something.

Peeking, he found that he had withdrawn a frozen chicken breast. That finally having been settled, Lyle was able to relax. Both sides of his stomach were again in sync. Both in perfect harmony once again. He closed the door, satisfied in his decision, and had almost set the package down when he found himself opening the door again and exchanged the breast for the steak.

That now sounded more like the ticket. A big fat juicy melts-in-your-mouth corn-fed beef steak, medium well. Maybe a little baked potato with butter and sour cream, a few string beans; crisp but tender. Already his mouth was watering and he still had about six hours to go before dinner. Amazingly, Lyle then thought he heard the chicken in the freezer tapping at the door. Was it Morse Code? The chicken seemed to be suggesting itself with rice pilaf and maybe a fresh ear of corn dripping with butter. In the end, the chicken won and the steak ended up back in the deep freeze. Lyle’s only hope now was that somewhere in the kitchen he might find rice pilaf and an ear of corn.

The fan to the heat pump come on outside below the kitchen window, indicating to Lyle that the air conditioning must be swinging into action which could only mean that Mr. Sunshine was bringin’ it on out there. The forecast had predicted a high of 90 degrees for the day which, Lyle reasoned, really was not that bad in lieu of the fact that things heat up to 130 degrees in the Sahara desert. Death Valley was a balmy 134 and a mere 15 million degrees in the center of the sun, Lyle told himself, so why the hell was he worried about a downright frigid 90 degrees?

In spite of the threat of a global meltdown, Lyle had to admit that it was a beautiful day outside. A perfect day for playing. Consequently, he poured himself another cup of coffee and headed out back to relax and soak up a couple ounces of vitamin D, and, while he was at it, maybe tackle a couple of weeds that had sprouted in his flowerbed. Laying the coffee cup aside he swiftly swept around the beautifully fenced-in back yard of the home.

Trees, flowers and shrubs bordered the lush back lawn which covered most of the yard. In the center sat the gazebo which was a favorite spot for relaxing and occasionally having dinner on perfect warm nights with cooling breezes. Although weeding was a bit of a chore at times Lyle did find this routine to be somewhat relaxing, one he seemed to enjoy while listening to the birds talking to him as he worked. Being a little bit warm on this particular afternoon, however, he tried to hurry this chore along and finish before becoming drenched in sweat and ending up having to take a second shower for the day. Was that another decision in the making?

Once completing the task to his satisfaction, Lyle took his cup over to the gazebo to down his coffee and just plain relax. It was, to his relief, a little cooler and more conducive to staying outdoors beneath the cupola - at least until the temperature deemed to hint of its highest point for the day.

The smells of summer were intoxicating; the lilac bush against the side of the house being particularly obvious due to the breeze that carried the sweet scent directly to Lyle’s nostrils. This brought forth memories of Keon, his first real love. Keon often commented on the sweet smells of the lilac bush and would often wheel himself over in his wheelchair just to languish in the scent for awhile. These memories held Lyle in a state of warm yet painful recall for several seconds until a bird’s call snapped him out of it. Lyle wanted to keep the memory of Keon alive, and yet they were still new enough to feel like the touching of an exposed nerve. Therefore, he made a conscious effort to keep the memories at bay until he was ready to deal with them at a later time. This was successful to a certain extent, excluding the occasional recollection that would slip under the wire. In time he would deal with it. In time.

His thoughts then shifted to the fact that he would be heading back to work tomorrow, and this led to his need to press his black police uniform at some point this afternoon. Maybe this evening. There were several identical uniforms but they were all in the wash so his work was cut out for him. Then again, not having to leave the house until a little past noon the following day he could put the ironing off until the morning if he chose. Nothing was so important that it could not be put off.

A hot breeze brushed across Lyle’s face, reminding him of the rising temperature, even under the protective cover of the gazebo. Almost unwillingly, he dragged himself back across the yard in the blazing sunshine and slipped into the house to languish in the cooling constant inside temperature of 72 degrees. Making things that much better was the addition of a glass of iced tea and a little soft Classical music on the stereo. These combined to make the ironing of his uniform not so unpleasant, and when that was done he then seasoned the chicken breast and shoved it into a slow oven, all the while regretting not having chosen the steak.

Now having all the ‘important’ duties relinquished to space in the past, Lyle was able to recline on the couch in the front room. He reached over his head and fumbled around behind him for a moment until locating the cordless phone. A memory key was pressed and he then waited for an answer with his eyes closing.

Hey, Mike, Lyle said cheerfully when the call was answered by his best friend and fellow policeman, Darren Michaels.

Hi, Lyle. How’s life treatin’ you? Michaels asked in his profoundly deep voice.

Could be better. Could be worse. Would it do any good to complain? How’s your sympathy level today?

Pretty low.

Yeah, figures. I just cannot get a break.

Speaking of dates… Michaels said with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

We were?

When are you gonna let me set you up with that guy I’ve been telling you about, man? he asked, almost eagerly.

I dunno. I’m just not quite ready to start dating again, I guess, Lyle confessed with yet another brief remembrance of the tragic end of his previous relationship.

Yeah, I understand. Well, when you decide that you are ready let me know. I think the two of you could really hit it off.

How’d you two meet again? It wouldn’t have been on some dark street corner, per chance, would it?

Michaels laughed. No, it wouldn’t.

Drug bust?

Nope.

Chinese laundry?

Are you going to keep this up all day, or let me answer the question?

I had about ten more guesses, but seeing as how you sound like you had a bowl of Cream Of Bitch for breakfast, he told Michaels lightheartedly. Go ahead. I’m all ears… until tomorrow when the plastic surgery takes care of that problem.

Derek’s a guy who used to live next door to me.

So why don’t you date him if he’s such a catch?

The man on the other end of the phone went silent for a moment before answering Lyle’s question. Because you know I’m not that way.

Isn’t that odd, because word has it on the street that you’re a pretty hot little number with the closeted gay boys, unless I’ve been misinformed, Lyle said sarcastically.

Michaels was quiet for a few moments. Well, in all honesty I don’t know what I am any more. Being gay is a natural part of your life, Ly. For me every experience has been an unmitigated disaster.

But you’ll have to admit that when you were acting on it, it was a whole lot of fun. Right?

Yeah, all right. I’ll admit that.

Let me ask you this; when was the last time you were with a woman? Lyle then asked, though with no malicious intent.

A couple years ago.

And with a man? Lyle probed.

Last year with Roger. You know that. But look how it turned out. It was awful.

You just got hold of the wrong guy. What about the guy you slept with at the Academy years ago?

What about it?

Was that a disaster?

Pretty much, yeah. He decided to go totally straight after being with me.

Come on, Mike. I know you want it. Give in to the urge. Renounce your heterosexuality completely and come over to the dark side. I seem to recall you saying that you liked what taste you had of it. Remember? he asked.

Ly, this is not about me. It’s about you. Now, do I set you up with Derek or not?

Lyle shook his head, just then realizing that this could not be seen. Let’s not push it right now. Okay?

Sure, no problem. So, what’s on your agenda today, dude?

Nothing. A little laundry, a drag race in City Hall, drawing mustaches on all the faces in an art gallery, sucking lemons in the front seat of a concert. Got a chicken cooking for dinner.

You’ve really got to get out of this rut, man. You hibernate in that house of yours 24 hours a day. It isn’t healthy.

While not having considered himself to have been hibernating, Lyle did have to admit to the fact that he was spending an inordinately large amount of time inside his house. He was grieving a loss, after all, so to him this seclusion seemed justified. I’ll be just fine, thank you, Lyle said with a frown that only he knew existed. Michaels was a dear and trusted friend and colleague and Lyle knew the man meant well, but only Lyle knew when it was time to get back on the horse and start riding again. The loss of Keon was devastating, leaving behind a void in Lyle’s life that was going to take an inordinate amount of time to fill.

Ly, we’re just really worried about you, that’s all, man, Michaels told him.

We? You got a mouse in your pocket?

I mean Deet and myself, Michaels said, referring to Lyle’s patrol partner, Dieter Baldwin.

Yeah, yeah.

No, I mean it, Michaels lectured. Look, I don’t mean to sound insensitive and don’t go off the deep end and take it that way, but let’s face facts; Keon died, not you. It’s time for you to move on and let...

And there’s an expiration date on grief? Lyle asked, interrupting the man’s lecture midstream. He had meant this to be a lighthearted remark but realized after having said it that he actually was a bit miffed over somebody else having decided on such a time for him.

No, of course not, Michaels told him, now sounding apologetic. Sorry, didn’t mean it to sound that way, man.

Look, I know I need to move on and all, but it just doesn’t seem right for me yet. When it does I’ll go for it, Lyle assured him.

At least go out on a date.

When I’m ready, I’ll…

Look, what would it hurt to at least give this guy a call, dude?

Oh… Lyle grumbled.

Just call him. He’s been told all about you and he’s anxious to hear from you, Michaels told him energetically.

Lyle again frowned. Why hasn’t he called me if he’s so anxious?

Because he doesn’t want to rush you, but you really need to motivate a little, man. It’s time.

All right, all right, Lyle acquiesced, if only to get his two partners off his back. Give me his name and number. I’ll call him tonight.

Excellent. Chicken?

What’d you just call me? Lyle asked defensively.

No, Michaels said with a laugh. I mean, all week you’ve been crabbing about how you’ve wanted a steak and on your days off you have chicken?

Oh. Yeah, I know. I have to tell you, though, it isn’t happy being in that hot oven.

Oh?

Oh yeah. Squawking up a storm. Do you think maybe I should have killed it first? Probably wouldn’t have pissed it off as much when I shoved it in the oven.

Probably. Okay, let me grab Derek’s number for you.

Jotting down the information about one Derek Lex, Lyle ended the call. At that point he began alternating his glance between the phone and the number written on the small pad now laying beside his wrist on the arm of the couch. A forced encounter was probably the very last thing that he felt comfortable with at this point in his life, but maybe Michaels was right. Maybe he had dragged out his anguish over Keon’s death a little too long. There was no denying that the hurt was still there. The absence. The downright misery of the space within that felt like a cavernous hole in his soul. But perhaps it really was time to start looking ahead instead of back.

Taking a deep breath, he dialed the number. To his relief Derek was a very pleasant man who expressed his hopes that Lyle would call. A meeting was quickly cemented and Lyle hung up the phone, realizing at this point that he was most definitely not ready to start dating yet. It felt uncomfortable and foreign, compulsory even. Compounding this was the persistent notion that, even after an entire year, Keon’s spirit was still looking over Lyle’s shoulder, judging his acquaintances. This was not at all like something Keon would do, he knew, but Lyle had difficulty shaking the image from his mind. He admitted to himself that it was probably his own guilt conjuring up these thoughts, which again led him to the conclusion that he was not yet ready to date.

Changing into a t-shirt, Levi’s and leather sandals, Lyle lowered the oven temperature and then drove to the pre-arranged coffee shop. The butterflies that accompanied him the entire drive made it quite difficult for him to not turn around and head back home, dive under the bed and hide. Holding strong, though, he made it to the coffee shop and was immediately hailed over to a table by a man matching Derek’s own description.

If this was Derek, Lyle thought as he crossed the room, then the man looked nice. He was not an exceptional beauty, but neither was he somebody from whom one would run away screaming. Lyle immediately hated himself for judging Derek on his physical attributes alone, but after all, he had been trained for the job to size people up by their appearance so he could not help but pass a modicum of judgment. Anyway, he reminded himself, inner beauty was just as important as looks, if not more so.

Derek? Lyle asked stupidly, stepping up to the table.

Oh, sorry. The man smiled up at him. I thought you were somebody else.

Lyle flushed. Oh, I’m sorry. This was not only embarrassing but somewhat disappointing. The more he got to looking at the man the more Lyle saw to like; the hauntingly hypnotic hazel eyes, the short black hair cut in the high and tight military style, the smile that looked to be an automatic part of his full lips. Actually, just before turning away to search for Derek, Lyle found himself contemplating stealing a kiss before moving on.

No, the man told him with a laugh, standing. I’m Derek. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I think it’s my nerves.

Lyle smiled more inwardly than out to avoid showing his delight. Score!

Have a seat, Derek said, pulling the chair out beside him.

Um, let me get a coffee or some vodka or whatever it is they sell here. I’ll be right back.

No, come on, sit down. I’ll get it for you. I invited you, after all.

Well, Lyle said, embarrassed by the silly smile that he knew had to be upon his lips now. All right. But nothing stronger than 800 proof. I have to drive home, you know. He took his chair and then watched the man (who was dressed similarly to himself) walk up to the counter to his left.

The jeans hugged the man’s body loosely enough to keep Lyle guessing at what lay hidden beneath the fabric, although the curves hinted of a fit, tight body. Derek was somewhat skinny, very tall and growing on Lyle minute by minute. It was this mounting attraction that suddenly had Lyle wondering if maybe he really might be ready to start living again. After all, kick-starting his love life again did not mean that he cared any less for Keon, and Lyle wanted to believe that his former lover would certainly not want him to continue to grieve and never get on with life. Yes, it must be time.

Derek returned empty-handed, looking a bit befuddled. I forgot to ask you what you wanted. How stupid is that?

Well, a tall toxic waste sludge would hit the spot now. But if they’re out, then I suppose I could be talked into a cappuccino. Decaf, please.

Wow, cappuccino’s what I’m drinking. I think this is going to work quite well. With a smile Derek sauntered back over to the counter and placed the order while Lyle caught himself looking at the man’s butt again. Realizing this he quickly turned away.

For crying out loud, he chastised himself. I’ve just met the man and I’m already mentally undressing him. Is that desperate or what? How gay can I be? Again he caught himself looking Derek up and down, this leading to a somewhat dreamlike state in which Lyle fantasized about Derek naked. Distant movement startled Lyle back to reality, and it was then that he saw Derek smiling in a way that told Lyle that he had been caught staring. Lyle quickly glanced away.

There was no mention of Lyle’s indiscretion throughout the rest of the meeting – much to his relief. The conversation netted each man more and more information about the other and Lyle found himself running hot and cold. Certain aspects of this guy were good, others questionable, others bordering on downright incompatibility. Still, Lyle could do worse, and considering his past year of celibacy following the loss of Keon he figured he might be well advised to hang in there and see where this might lead. Unfortunately, where it led was to an unexpected disaster. Just before Lyle was to suggest they make another date for dinner, Derek suddenly stood, excused himself and darted out of the shop.

Bewildered, Lyle crumpled up his cup, tossed it in the garbage can and drove home beneath the gloom of a dark cloud. The same cloud followed him to work the following day and Dieter picked up on it the minute Lyle sat down at the weight bench for his usual workout before going on duty.

All right, what’s wrong with this picture? Dieter asked, his long skinny arms curling the dumbbells as he stood in place.

Lyle looked over, surprised. Wrong?

I’ve seen happier people at funerals.

Yes, but were they as handsome and well dressed? Lyle asked, laying back on the bench. Reaching up he grasped the barbell overhead without lifting it off the hooks. I went out on a date last night, and…

A date? Well, it’s about time, Dieter said, knowingly. Mike and I have been getting a little worried about you, my friend.

Yeah, I know. This was with a guy Mike knows who was really nice and I thought we were having a good time, but then he suddenly excused himself and left. It’s my eyes, isn’t it? They’ve always been the wrong color for my skin tone. Puts a lot of people off.

The chemistry must not have been right, Dieter said, setting the dumbbells down and then taking a seat on the bench next to Lyle.

See? There’s the problem. I never studied chemistry, Lyle confessed with a huff as he pushed the barbell upward and off the hooks. What confuses me is that, up until that moment, we were getting along fine. It was like a switch had been turned inside his head or something. Real Jekyll and Hyde stuff.

No explanation or anything?

None, Lyle admitted, lowering the bar to his chest before pushing up. I swear to you, this time I didn’t forget my deodorant.

I don’t see why he wouldn’t go for you; a big strong handsome strapping guy. If I turned gay I’d certainly go after you.

Deet, if you turned gay the whole world would burst into flames.

I’m just proving I have good taste, he said. Take the compliment.

Thanks. One thing it did prove, though, is that I think I’m ready to start meeting people again. I really found him attractive, Deet.

Well, that’s good… in a sick, twisted and perverted sort of way, he teased.

Oh, Lyle said with a quick sideways glance, you’ll never know unless you try it.

You’re right, I’ll never know. He chuckled and leaned back to do his own set on the adjacent bench. How'd the rest of your days off go?

Not sure. I haven’t been awake enough today to remember.

Well then, Dieter said sarcastically, how do you think your days off went?

Probably good. I may never know.

You ladies are in early, Michaels told the two, strolling into the room in his white gym shorts and shoes.

No, you’re running late, Lyle told him, hooking his bar above his head.

No I’m not. Michaels looked down to his watch, then to the clock on the wall. I guess I am. This thing’s slow. So, how’d it go last night? he asked, giving Lyle’s bare knee a squeeze.

I think you might have gone a little overboard in the tanning booths, Lyle teased his African American partner, the darkness of Michaels’ skin standing out strong against the sea of white that bathed the room. Didn’t you used to be white?

Yeah, I did, until Deet fucked me and the trauma turned me black, he replied.

Hey, you two leave me out of your sick affairs, Dieter told the two men as he lowered the barbell to his chest. This stud only goes after 100% , grade-A pussy.

Lyle hooked the bar and sat up, turning to Dieter. Now there’s an image that I could have gone the entire day without envisioning. He then turned his attention to Michaels. How about it, Mike? Can you imagine our little Deet doing a woman?

Michaels shook his head. Hell, man, I can’t even imagine him doing himself without wanting to throw up.

Funny, guys. I’ll remember to tell that one at your funerals, Dieter said sarcastically.

Michaels plucked the dumbbells that Dieter had been using up off the floor and began pumping them alternately. So, what happened last night with Derek?

I called him, Lyle admitted, wiping his forehead with the white towel he had draped over his mid-section.

Good, man.

And we went out for coffee and everything was going fine until he suddenly got up and left.

Left?

Vamoosed. Exited. Went away.

Michaels frowned. Did he say why?

Other than commenting on my uncontrolled flatulence and persistent drooling, no. He just said he had to leave and that was that.

I’m sorry, Ly. I don’t know what to say.

Dieter hooked the bars and sat up. I do: Damn, Lyle, you must really be one hell of a rotten date.

That’s not what your mama said, Lyle retorted, receiving a chuckle from Dieter.

Don’t worry about it, Michaels said.

Lyle shook his head. I’m not worried. After all, I couldn’t expect to hit a home run the first time at bat. He was pretty good looking, though, in a plain sort of way.

I had such high hopes for you two. Well, back to the drawing board, huh?

Yeah, sure.

Michaels continued his curls, eyeing Lyle suspiciously for a couple moments. You’re not gonna give up, are you?

Uneasy under his friend’s stare, Lyle said, Giving up is not in my dictionary, Mike. Lyle thought about this a moment before adding, At least I don’t think it is. I’d better look it up when I get home and make sure.

Hearing footsteps echoing in the room, Lyle turned to find Sergeant Matt Anderson, their boss, walking through the door with another man in tow. So, how about heading on over to Murphy’s for a couple belts before we hit the streets? Lyle asked loudly for Anderson’s sake. After stocking up at the meth lab, of course.

The boss smiled. You go without me and I’ll string your hides up a flag pole. Guys, this is Claude Jackson. That’s Mike, Lyle and Dieter, he introduced while they all shook hands, Michaels having to place his weights on the floor beforehand. Claude’s replacing Roger.

Roger, Lyle suddenly recalled with distaste, had been a mistake right from the beginning. He never did fit into the program, and after causing a whole truckload of problems within the Department he had willingly transferred to another city. Claude, on the other hand, looked like a decent sort. Lyle immediately honed in on the wedding band on the man’s finger but did not hold it against him. The young man looked to be in his late 20’s and appeared as if he had never stepped out into the sun a day of his life; his skin being so white that it was almost blinding. His height was around six foot one, and although not bulky or showing any appearance of having worked out much, he did look to be promising officer.

Claude’s fresh out of the Academy so go easy on him. Mike, he’s riding with you for now. You three behave, and I mean it. Anderson turned to address Claude. These clowns call themselves the Three Musketeers. They’re a good group, but watch ‘em like a hawk. Having said this he patted the newcomer on the back. Better you than me. Good luck. He winked and walked out the door.

Why the ‘Three Musketeers’? Claude asked nobody in particular.

It started out as a joke years ago, Lyle told him as he lay back down on the bench, and it’s stayed with us ever since.

That’s great, Claude said cheerfully.

Dieter sat up. So, you married?

Yes. Three years.

What’s your wife’s name?

Janice… Jan.

Ah.

How about you three? Claude asked not realizing what he was getting himself into.

Dieter took it from here. I’m single, Mike’s between whoever he’s into this week, and Lyle’s a widower.

Claude gave Lyle a sympathetic glance. Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Were you married for long?

We were together all of two months, Lyle commented without looking at Claude and resuming his weightlifting.

Gee, that’s tough. Sorry.

Thanks.

You guys been here long? Claude asked the group as a whole.

Lyle’s been here five years… Dieter began to explain.

Six, Lyle corrected, interrupting.

Dieter turned to him. Six? You sure?

Yeah. Mike and I started at the same time. It’s six years.

Yeah, okay. And I’ve been here five.

Oh, Claude acknowledged with a smile. This a good place to work?

One of the best, Michaels told him while reclining to the floor for some sit-ups.

Great. I’m looking forward to working with you all.

A word of warning, Michaels told him as he lifted his torso up, his arms crossed over his chest, it’s a really diverse group of guys here. If you have any prejudices you’d be well advised to leave them at home. At this point he held his eyes on the newcomer long enough to drive home the gravity of this point. Lyle saw this look and thanked his lucky stars that he had not been on the receiving end of it lest he go running from the building.

Oh. Well, don’t worry about that, I’m not prejudiced in any way, Claude assured him with a smile.

Good. Michaels then resumed his sit-ups.

Lyle hooked his bar and stood. Claude, welcome to the neighborhood, he said, again shaking the man’s hand. He then added, If you only knew what you were getting yourself into. He smiled and headed off to shower and get dressed for work.

The remainder of Lyle’s afternoon and evening went by slowly with nothing spectacular happening for either himself or Dieter. There were a couple traffic stops for burned-out taillights and running a traffic signal. All routine. All boring. Stopping at a favorite restaurant for dinner around nine o’clock, he and Dieter then headed back out to the streets where still more of the same ‘nothing’ was waiting. Although it was nice to have an uneventful evening once in awhile, it did make for an excruciatingly long shift.

Lyle dragged himself into his dark house at the usual 2:45 am, draped his jacket over the back of the high-backed chair in the front room of the big empty house and ambled lazily into the kitchen to get a drink of some kind before heading off to bed. Eyeing the flashing light on the caller ID box, he retrieved a bottled water on his way past the fridge and plucked up the phone and dialed… and was extremely surprised at what message awaited him.

Hi, Lyle, this is Derek. I was hoping to catch you at home but obviously I missed you. Hope you don’t mind me calling you… I got your number off the Caller ID. Anyway, I wanted to apologize for walking out on you so quickly last night. It wasn’t you, it was my stomach. I’ve been having problems the last few days that, um, I’d rather not get into it because it’s kind of embarrassing and definitely disgusting. Anyway, I was hoping that you and I could get together for dinner sometime soon. I really like you and you’re… well… I’ll be honest with you; I think you’re extremely attractive. Hot, in fact. Did that sound too forward? I hope not. Anyway, I’d sure enjoy seeing you again. I’m going to have to be away on business for a couple of weeks, but when I get back I’ll give you a call. Maybe we can do dinner or something. Take it easy. Oh, and thanks for meeting me at the coffee place. Bye.

Lyle instantly felt himself floating and this sensation followed him all the way from the kitchen into the bedroom. He seemed to float even higher as he began entertaining thoughts of what he would like to be doing with this man right now.

The following morning Lyle called Derek back but had to leave a message as well, repeating Derek’s message practically word for word – minus the stomach disorder. He informed Derek of his days off for the following month and asked him to decide which day would best fit their schedules. Hanging up, Lyle