Chapter Thirteen

Charlie sat in the Black Bean Eatery across from Carrie. It was the place where they'd cried over bad dates, where Charlie had come out and where Carrie had made her decision about an unexpected pregnancy.

Charlie was still a bit drunk. He'd given up trying to keep up with Declan after the first few drinks.

Carrie looked at Charlie and said, "Well, I think you should tell him how you feel, then quit."

"What would you know?"

"What I know is you have done nothing but talk about the guy for the last two hours."

"But I think he kinda needs me." Charlie's phone went off. He checked the screen. "Oh my God. It's him! What should I do?"

The phone continued to ring.

"Charlie, if you aren't going to answer, I will," Carrie blurted out.

"Okay, okay," he said. Charlie took a deep breath and took the call. "Hello," he said, hesitantly.

"May I speak to Charlie, please?"

"Uh, speaking."

"Hey, Charlie. My name's Mateo. I'm calling for Declan. He asked me to call you." The voice was gentle, with a slight Hispanic accent.

"Look, Mateo, if Declan is trying to set you up with me, tell him thank you—I'm sure you're a really nice person, but—"

"No. That is not the reason I am calling. Declan is a little too drunk to leave here, and we were hoping that you could come and get him. He told me to look you up on his phone and call you."

"Oh, he did, did he?"

"Yes. I'll text you the address. See you soon. Bye-bye."

Mateo disconnected and a moment later Charlie's phone chirped with a text.

"Declan wants me to pick him up because he's too drunk to find his own way home. If he thinks he can just call me at any hour, just because he needs my help…" Charlie muttered.

"You're going to go get him, aren't you?"

"Of course I am! He needs me."

* * * *

The address was a few blocks east at some place called The Greek. The Greek what? he asked himself. His question was soon answered. No way. I can't go in there! What if it gets raided and I get arrested? What would my parents think?

A hot young blond guy came out of the building. He was wearing an old hockey jersey cut off above the navel and a tight pair of jeans. He paused for a moment to check Charlie out. He cracked the gum he was chewing and blew a bubble, then said, "Are you heading in?"

"Uh…" Charlie muttered, then checked to see if anyone was watching.

"‘Cause if you are, I might just have to go back in there," he said, before reaching up and rubbing the back of his hand against Charlie's chest.

Charlie took a deep breath, mustered all of his self-control and said, "Just heading in for work."

"I've never seen you before. I'll look for you next time," the blond said before sauntering away.

Charlie walked cautiously up a flight of stairs, where he found what looked like a ticket booth with red velvet curtains on either side. A handsome Latino man sat behind the glass. He was reading a book. This struck Charlie as odd for a place like this. The book didn't even seem to have any pictures.

Charlie cleared his throat. "Ah, excuse me."

"Yes?" The man closed his book. Charlie noticed the title—Nietzsche on Truth and Philosophy. A man exited from behind the red curtain. He wore full cowboy regalia. What wasn't covered in clothes was covered in sweat.

"Ah…" Charlie couldn't focus.

"You must be here for Declan. I'm Mateo," said the man in the booth.

Mateo hung a ‘Be Back Soon' sign on his glass window. It bore an image of a muscular male back, used in place of the second word. Very Nietzsche, Charlie thought.

Mateo led Charlie behind the red curtain into a world he had only fantasised about. Men of all shapes and sizes wandered down hallways, in all states of undress. Pulsing techno-beat music thrummed in the background. This world seemed to have an unspoken language—a quick glance for "no thank you," a lingering gaze for "I want you." Charlie picked up the language quickly. It was primal. One handsome, well-toned man—Charlie guessed he was in his fifties—locked eyes on him. Charlie stopped in his tracks, held in a trance. The man's hair was silver, his metallic-grey beard was a well-trimmed half-inch in length and his eyes, steel blue. Charlie felt himself being drawn towards him.

"Charlie," a voice said. "No shopping unless you pay. Come." Mateo took Charlie's hand and led him down the hallway.

As they approached a dark-red door, Charlie could make out the sound of a voice he recognised. Mateo opened the door and there was Declan, fully clothed, slumped in a chair and mumbling to a tightly T-shirted burly man. The man looked up at Charlie and smiled.

"I think you're going to need help with this one. At least until you get him to the street," he said as he threw a beefy arm under one of Declan's arms and around his back.

"Okay, my friend, up you go," he said as he lifted Declan onto his feet. Declan's head pivoted around until it faced Charlie.

"Charlie! My dear, dear, dear, dear friend. They found you." Declan's face lit up with a liquid smile. He spun his head towards the burly man and whispered, as if revealing a great secret, "This is my friend Charlie. He's waaaaay smarter than me."

"And hopefully a good deal more sober," the other man replied, then laughed. "Come on, my friend. Let me get you downstairs where your best friend Charlie can get you home."

Declan didn't walk down the stairs as much as he was carried, then was placed in the back of the Uber which Charlie had managed to order on their way down.

The driver took one look at Charlie and said, "He pukes back there and it'll be a hundred-and-fifty-dollar charge."

"If he pukes back here, you'll have to make it three hundred, ‘cause I'll be joining him," Charlie added, only half-joking.

"This is my friend Charlie," Declan loudly announced to the driver. "He helps me when I need it."

"Lucky Charlie," the driver commented, with only a hint of sarcasm.

Declan lolled his head onto Charlie's shoulder, snuggling into it like it was a pillow. "You saved me," he whispered.

For a hefty tip, the driver helped Charlie extract Declan from the back of his, thankfully, un-puked-in car. It was only then that Charlie realised that what the muscular man at The Greek had managed to do going downstairs, Charlie was going to have to do going upstairs to the office.

He stood outside the street-level door, wedging Declan against the wall with his shoulder.

"Declan," he shouted, which got some response. "Wake up!" He slapped him lightly across the face. "Oh, please wake up." He slapped him a little harder.

Declan gave out a giggle. "You little bitch."

"What did you call me?" Charlie yelled, then slapped him as hard as he could. That seemed to do the trick.

"Hey," Declan slurred out. "You hit me!"

"Call me bitch one more time and you'll see just how hard I can slap! Now, wake up." Charlie pulled away from him, and Declan stumbled away from the wall. He balanced himself by throwing both arms around Charlie's neck.

"Okay," Charlie said, "this is a good start."

Charlie managed to get his key out of his pocket and open the door. If he was going to make this work, he was going to have to take control.

"Okay, you with me?"

"Yeah," Declan said as more of a breath than a word.

"One step at a time. Got it?"

"Hey, you're really cute close up. You know that?"

"Great. Let's go."

Charlie had no idea how long it took to manipulate Declan's mass of muscle, bone and booze up two flights of stairs, but it felt like hours.

He manoeuvred Declan towards the bed where he planned on leaving him. Charlie turned his gaze towards his boss and found him staring back.

"Thank you for being my Prince Charming," Declan whispered. Then he kissed Charlie lightly on the lips and crumpled into a heap on the bed.

Charlie rearranged Declan's body into what he thought was a more comfortable position, and was headed towards the stairs when he heard rustling from the bed. He turned to see the beautiful man struggling as he tried to remove his top. He had gotten himself trapped. Declan collapsed back onto the bed, a tangle of man and shirt.

"Here. Let me help." Charlie pulled the shirt back down over his torso, then unbuttoned it. He pulled it open then slid the sleeves down his arms. He soon had Declan lying shirtless on his back. Charlie noticed the blue-black bruises covering his ribcage. He caressed them. Who did this to you?

Charlie watched as Declan's muscled chest rose and fell with each breath. His washboard stomach pulsated with the rhythm of his heart.

Declan began to fuss, pulling at his pants.

"What the hell," Charlie muttered. He reached down and undid Declan's belt, followed by the button. Charlie's hands shook as he contemplated unzipping the fly. He took a deep breath and unzipped his pants.

"Okay, I'm just going to pull off your pants now." He felt like a doctor describing a physical exam in as much detail as possible in order to de-sexualise the process.

Removing a pair of pants over a well-developed set of buttocks was far more difficult that Charlie had imagined, given that he was attempting to avoid touching Declan's body and keep from removing his underwear.

Declan lay there, stripped of all clothes, other than his tight briefs. Charlie stood there taking it all in. He kissed me.

He scanned Declan's body. He wanted to remember every inch of it. He noted how well-endowed Declan was. Charlie's whole body trembled at the sight. There was a magnetic attraction that seemed to draw his hand towards the sleeping man's crotch. He felt the heat emanating from Declan as his hand floated an inch above it. He thought of all the lucky men who had been able to caress what was just below Charlie's hand.

The paralysis that kept his hand hovering was broken when he heard a sound. It pulsated and filled the room. He was frightened that it was so loud it would wake the sleeping giant. Charlie realised it was the sound of his own breathing.

He rushed downstairs and glanced at the clock on the wall across from his desk. It was 2:10 in the morning. He thought of calling for an Uber, but…what if Declan needed him? He was pretty drunk…so he texted his parents that he was working through the night on a case, then curled up on the couch in the reception room and closed his eyes.