Waterlogged

By Byron Rider

Trouble follows a young man as he tries to run away from his troubles. Your adventure starts with Stacey Prince pulling himself from the depths of Galveston Bay, having been thrown, tied to heavy weights, into the depths. His skills as a swimmer and a good head on his shoulders are all he needs to break free, but a friendly arm in a small motorboat saves his life.

Clive Turner is a former police officer, sidelined by a gunshot wound that tore through his body. He has taken an immediate liking to the young Stacey. It doesn't hurt that the young man is a killer cook.

Misadventure seems to follow the pair, from the jealous ex-lovers on both sides, to nightmares, and real threats.

Can Stacey and Clive find their way to stay together and out of danger?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Byron Rider
• Release date: Dec 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310002359

Byron Rider

Byron's love of books came early in his life; exposed to all the adventures of the past and present and speculative futures through the books his mother painstakingly purchased through his life. Byron loved to organize, catalog and otherwise stay involved in the acquisition and enjoyment of books. He learned about exotic places, adventure, suspense, horror and even love through the pages of paperback books. He has enjoyed reading since his older brother taught him to read at five years old. There were no books that were too boring or mundane to open and peruse. This behavior created the person who now not only loves to read, but loves to write. His biggest obstacle is not in writing the books, but in how others would view him for what he put in the books. His sense of propriety needed to be overcome to truly write what he wanted. He has overcome this obstacle, somewhat. The LGBT, specifically gay romance, has become the genre of choice for both Byron's reading and writing adventures. His life has been a road traveled under the guise of complacency and obedience. From parents who expected it, to the military that commanded it, and to corporate America who required it. There is no time in his life when he found himself; he is always that which others thought he should be. He is lost in his own time while seeking that which he is. Byron found that making waves makes conflict. He avoids conflict by conforming; he prefers invisiblity. The choices one makes are usually those that guide your future. Byron is no different. Necessity guided him toward writing. He writes to earn money to supplement his meager salary as an adjunct college professor--his expertise: Psychology. The economic status of his household dictates that he write, or find other venues to supplement the small income he acquires doing that which he does love--teaching. Today he is seeking out his own personal and unique identity as Byron Rider - Author.

Book preview

Waterlogged

Copyright 2015 Byron Rider

Published by Byron Rider at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

Thank you for downloading this e-book. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

Disclaimer

The locations, movies, products, and such, are mostly all real. I looked up much of these using internet search engine, Google. The active story characters, however, are not. If I accidentally managed to make any one of my characters seem like you, it was not intentional, and I hope they are the good guys.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Special Acknowledgements

About the Author

Acknowledgements

First, I would like to thank anyone who has given me a chance to share my words with them. I love to write and hope that my stories resonate in the minds of my readers.

Second, I would like to thank my relatives. Those who supported me have been invaluable. Those who chose to turn their backs on me? Without you I would never have been able to say Watch me.

Third, I would like to thank anyone and everyone else. I have learned a lot through reading the works of others, have learned through my experiences in day-to-day live. I appreciate the love you taught me and I hope I have brought it to life in the pages of my story.

Prologue

The splash was loud. With the corresponding grunt, the men in the boat looked around. No one was near them; it was too early in the morning. We need go. one of the men whispered.

The other three men nodded, but one spoke out. We should make sure he sink.

Another of the men turned the bright spotlight down into the water. They saw the red shirt as it faded into the murky water of Galveston Bay. He sink. We won’t worry about him. the man with the spotlight said.

The other three men agreed and they started the engine. If water doesn’t kill him, sharks will.

They laughed, sounding relieved, when they drove away in the small motor boat.

The man was tied, hand and foot. Something heavy was in the sack that was pulling him to his murky, wet grave. He was not resigned, however, to his fate. He cried out; bubbles of precious air escaping his mouth and nose. He shut his mouth quickly. ‘How do I escape this?’ he asked himself.

Then he took inventory of his situation. Sure, he was tied hand and foot, but they had tied his hands in front of him. ‘Lift your hands. Bite the knots loose. Save yourself.’ he thought. A shark was swimming dangerously close to the incapacitated man.

Fighting through the panic, he was able to pull his numbing hands to his mouth. He felt along with his tongue, looking for a knot. ‘Eureka!’ he cried out in his head.

It did not take long to use his teeth to untie the knot. The abductors were sloppy. He kept his eyes closed and visualized the act and within only a second or two he was released. Then he bent over and untied the rope from his ankles.

Within a few more seconds he was free. But now what? He was in the middle of the bay; no one would be out at 4:00 in the morning. How would he find help?

He let the water lift him to the surface; a slow, painful process that forced his lungs to feel as though they were caving in on themselves.

‘Come on, Stacey. You know how to swim.’ he scolded himself. Finally, and with his very last bit of energy, he pushed himself hard toward the surface and the fresh, musky morning, Galveston air.

Chapter 1

Clive tossed his line into the Galveston Bay water once more. It was perfect trout weather. The specs were biting and he had his share in a cooler filled with water. If he caught another, he’d measure it against those he had and choose the larger ones.

He sat there, the silence deafening. It was much too quiet, but Clive Turner liked it that way. He could think; reflect. He could figure out what went right and what went wrong in his life, in his career, in his relationships. He took advantage of the peace; the solitude in the middle of the bay complete. Especially when he left his cell phone in his truck.

Clive looked out before casting his line one more time when the water looked more disturbed than what a few fish might make it. He thought, at first, that it was a large school of fish. That is before he saw an arm shoot out from the surface and immediately drop back below.

Stacey couldn’t breathe. His air was being stolen from his lungs. The water rushed into his eyes, his nose, and his mouth. There was nothing left to give; the water was consuming him.

He reached up, one last-ditch effort; there were arms, soft, warm, strong arms that reached down and pulled him up into a small motor boat. He gasped, gagged, and vomited up what he swore was gallons of water. He was alive; somehow he had lived through it.

Damn, man. What were you thinking? Are you alright? Clive Turner asked as he held onto Stacey Prince.

Stacey stayed on his hands and knees in the boat, retching over the side. Clive looked from the sad small blond man who was spitting up water to his tight backside, pointing up, right toward him from the kneeling position he had taken in his boat.

Clive cleared his throat to put his mind’s priorities back into perspective. Kid. Are you alright?

I...pushed...thrown over... the younger man stuttered through gagging. Murdered. he finally said.

Pushed? Someone pushed you? What do you mean, ‘murdered’?

Yes. Stacey said nodding; finally able to tear himself from the edge of the small fishing boat. I was pushed. More like tossed. They wanted to kill me.

"Where is the boat that pushed you?’ Clive asked, looking around suspiciously and then back to the young man.

I was b...boun...d. Tied. Toss...tossed over...board. Stacey answered, trembling from cold, fear, and a bit of anger. He showed the raw flesh at his wrists and ankles. Clive noticed, then, a bandana tied around his throat.

We need to get you to the authorities, mate. Clive said.

No. Stacey said, shaking his head rapidly from side to side. They’ll kill me. he whispered. They said so.

Well, kid, it seems they may think you’re already dead, based on what they’ve already done. Clive said, trying for logic.

But...but they’ll know I’m not dead if I go to the police.

Let’s start this differently. Name’s Clive. Clive Turner. And you are?

Stacey Pr...Just Stacey. the young drowning man said.

"Alright, Just Stacey, why don’t we get you to shore and dry you off some. I’ll just take you to your place. Would that be alright?"

Sh..sh..sure. Stacey said, rubbing his hands against his arms.

Clive powered up the boat and took it back to the bank of the large lake and tied it off at the pier. His muscles twitched and tightened with every forward and backward motion of the oars.

When they did reach the pier Clive jumped out and said Come on, then. reaching out to take Stacey’s hand. Stacey was too unhinged to appreciate the strength in the man who had saved his life. Instead, he lay down on the bottom of the boat, his eyes tightly closed, breathing steadily to squelch his nerves.

Stacey looked uncertain about taking the larger man’s hand but finally, with some coaxing, shrugged and figured he’d cheated death already this day.

When Stacey’s feet touched the 4x4’s of the pier, he grasped onto Clive as though he was a lifeline; the only thing that was keeping him alive.

Th...thank...k...kew. Thank you. Stacey finally was able to say as he nestled his nose in Clive’s chest and held on for dear life. He noticed that Clive did not smell like the water, but smelled like chocolate and cinnamon.

It’s alright, kid. You’re on solid wood, now. Not in the boat anymore.

Stacey looked up at Clive once more, not willing to let go of him just yet. You saved my life. he croaked out.

When Clive looked down, the smile on his face froze. He was staring into the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Something switched on his insides and all he wanted to do was protect this young man. Hell, no. He wanted to kiss him, right there on the dock.

When his head finally caught up with his heart, he pulled back. Come on, Stacey. Let’s get you something dry to put on.

Stacey scrambled to keep up with the much taller Clive. At 5’7", and 145 pounds, Stacey was a slight man. He hoped, by the time he had reached 22, he would have filled out some, but he didn’t have that kind of luck.

Clive, on the other hand, was all muscle. He was well over 6 foot tall with broad shoulders and a healthy ‘work outside’ tan. His arms, his neck and chest, and his calves beneath cargo shorts, were dark brown; tanned healthily.

Clive did as promised; he brought Stacey to where he could find a blanket and some warm coffee; Clive’s truck. How do you have these things in here? Stacey asked as he sipped some of the bitter, strong, brew. He wrinkled his nose but was very thankful for the warmth.

I spend a lot of time on the water, kid. I have to be prepared, yep? Clive answered.

Stacey nodded, but frowned. Do you have to do that?

Do what?

Call me kid.

"Oh, sensitive about your age? I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember, Just Stacey."

Stacey smiled and nodded. His lips were still a bit blue-ish and they trembled. Clive, once more, had a near overwhelming need to kiss them warm. He shook his head; the young man was not in any shape for his poor attempts at seduction.

Where do you live? Clive finally asked after getting his head back in the game.

Portland. Stacey answered.

Clive choked. Portland? Son, you are a very long way from home.

Stacey nodded. I know. I came down here looking for work. Haven’t been so lucky, though.

Clive nodded and then turned toward the pier.

Wh...where’re ya going? Stacey asked.

I have to get my boat. Don’t worry, ki...Stacey, I’ll be right back. You can see me from there, yeah?

Stacey looked out the windshield and saw the boat floating in the water. Yeah. he nodded.

Clive smiled a friendly smile to the young man and then turned back to get his boat. ‘Something’s fishy here and it’s not in my cooler.’ Clive thought to himself. He wondered how a kid from Portland made it all the way to Bolivar, Texas. It made sense, he supposed; there was work in Texas, but not Bolivar. Liberal Oregon was not that great for workers, but why would the kid find himself bound and gagged and at the bottom of the bay?

Clive pulled the boat up onto the pier, flipped it over and lifted it like it weighed nothing. He put it into the frame in the back of his truck and then got inside.

Y...you’re strong. Stacey said.

Son, do you have a place to stay?

Stacey looked down; his cheeks turning pink. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

Well, if you tell me, I can get you home. Hell, it would be my pleasure to make certain you get someplace safe. I feel like a damn hero.

You are... Stacey said, looking at Clive for the first time since being pulled from the water. His wide, innocent green eyes flashed with a spark from the moon. Clive swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes closed.

After a sigh, he answered. Nah. I just did what anyone would do. He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. Come on, now. Tell me where I can drop you. Do you live alone?

Stacey nodded but looked down again. I live in...there. Stacey said, pointing at a small shack near the ferry landing.

You live there? Clive asked, horrified. A small, 5x5 shack was standing off to the side of the northbound side of the main road. You can’t be serious.

Uh huh. Stacey said, blushing on all exposed parts of his body.

Over my dead body. I’m going to take you to my house. You need to get some warm food in your body and dry clothes.

N...n...no. I d..don’...t need h...hel...p. Stacey said, clearly freezing; hypothermia was setting in.

You will come with me at least until you’re warm, deal? I’ll bring you back here when you feel better.

Stacey looked at the kind expression in Clive’s dark brown eyes. He wrinkled his nose; Clive thought it adorable, and nodded. Alright. he said quietly.

Good. It’s settled then, son. You’ll come to my house. Tell me, you like fish? Clive asked.

Stacey’s face lit up and he grinned; nodding. I do. he said.

Clive felt the odd sensation of his hair standing on edge; like he was cold. He nodded as he drove up to the ferry and parked. Have you been on the ferry?

Stacey nodded, showing an innocent, child-like grin. I like to watch the dolphins.

Me too. Let’s get out of this tin can and enjoy the breeze.

Stacey nodded but then looked at the blanket wrapped around him.

Clive understood. He reached behind the seat and pulled a jacket from there. This will be better.

Stacey looked at him thankfully and pulled the blanket off, putting on the warm and overly large jacket. It hung nearly to the smaller man’s knees. You are being so kind to me. he said to Clive.

Hell, ki...Stacey. Nearly everyone in Texas is friendly. You haven’t been here long, have you?

No. I had a problem in Portland. My boyfr...I had a fight with a friend of mine. I had to get out of there.

Clive’s lips tilted up. ‘The kid’s gay?’ The cutoff word was the best word that Stacey could have misspoke. A single, gay kid in Bolivar, Tx was going to be an easy target. Clive was glad he got to him first... or did he?

You didn’t tell me; who put you in the bay?

Some guys. I don’t know who they were. They said all kinds of mean things. Called me names. Asians. Don’t know what kind. They were talking about God and stuff, but I didn’t really understand them.

Clive nodded. Of all the tolerance in Texas, there were still the Bible-thumpers who thought that their own shit didn’t stink and so they would go after the easiest prey. But Asian Christians? Didn’t add up somehow.

Stacey, can I ask you something? Clive asked. You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, OK?

Ok. What did you want to know?

Are you...erm, do you prefer the company of...men?

Stacey’s eyes watered and he looked out into Galveston Bay, looking for dolphins. He didn’t answer the question.

Fair enough. Clive said and nodded. Then he thought he heard a whisper on the wind that told him Yes. He didn’t respond but his heart did. It started beating strong in his chest.

Stacey’s eyes began to water, and not from the breeze across the bay. He wondered if admitting that would put him in more danger with this man. He’d had to spend many nights on his knees to pay for rides from Portland to Texas and more after that to get even the small

Reviews for Waterlogged

[Kathryn Perez · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I would love to read more adventures. the Galveston connection, and realistic locations that I could identify with made the story come more to life.