Chapter 8

Chapter 8

David awoke the next morning as if he’d been sleeping on a cloud. After Joseph left, he’d gone back to bed for an hour or so, and woke feeling more refreshed than he had in months. He did some quick mental math and realized he hadn’t gotten anywhere near eight hours of sleep, which would usually have left him groggy all day.

The last thing he’d done, after their textual professions of love (well, implied professions), was to suggest they go dancing tonight. It would be Friday, so Boystown in WeHo would be much livelier than on the Tuesday they met. Joseph replied just before he went into his meeting, and David didn’t expect to hear from him until later, but he got the go-ahead to make plans. With things still slow at work, plotting out their evening was the main activity of his day.

On his way into the production office, he stopped in Hollywood at a corner lot lined by stores that featured a Starbucks and a donut shop and picked up coffees for himself and Dana and a dozen glazed to share with the office. It wasn’t something he usually did (that was for the much higher-paid writers on staff or the show runners), but David was feeling especially good, and he felt like spreading the joy.

As he drove over the Cahuenga Pass to Barham, he noticed the huge cumulous clouds creeping over the San Fernando Valley. They were an unusual sight in LA, which was normally beset by unrelenting sunshine. The clouds were beautiful, though. Enormous, billowy balls of cotton, just floating in the air. They got him thinking about what it must have been like to be a human thousands of years before anyone had any inkling about the water cycle or what those titanic poofy things in the sky could be. Looking at them as the traffic crawled towards the studio lot, he could understand how people thought there were cities up there with gods living in them. David couldn’t help but stare and admire the beauty. Which reminded him of Joseph smelling flowers along the sidewalk, and that just made him smile more.

When he arrived in the office, Dana eyed the box of donuts suspiciously. “What did you do…?” she asked slowly.

“Nothing bad; I just wanted to treat everyone,” David replied, handing over her coffee.

“You know, we have Starbucks in the machine here,” she chided.

“Yes, but this way someone else does all that work for you, and you don’t have to go to all the effort of walking all the way to the kitchen,” he pointed out, playing her little game.

She took a sip. “For sure,” she agreed, “and it’s also not so hot. Like, not even hot at all. Like barely warm this way. You’re the bestest, thank you.”

David reached for her cup. “If you don’t want it, I’m sure I can find someone—”

She growled and pulled the treasured liquid closer to herself. “No! I wants it. My precious…”

They laughed as David deposited the donuts on the table in the center of the room and announced they were for everyone. There was a comical rush of people dropping what they were doing and moving to the table but trying not to look like they were dropping everything and rushing to get the sweet, sweet, delectable treats.

Dana took David by the arm and led him to his desk, which was further from the donuts than hers. “So, spill the tea, BooBoo! You had your date last night?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “He took me to the Magic Castle.” He tried to say it like it was a disappointing thing, but Dana didn’t take the bait.

“Omigod, was it cool? I’ve heard it’s cool, like there’s magicians everywhere—

Ooooh I’m so jelly, tell me everything!”

She was bouncing from excitement so David dropped the pretense. “Okay.” He leaned in. “It. Was. Amazing.”

They sat conspiratorially at David’s desk, and he recounted everything about the night. He told her about Open Sesame, and Irma the Ghost, and as much of the magic shows as he could remember. Dana was rapt with attention, asking for more details here and there, and otherwise making jealous sounds of disgust. He even told her the highlights of the incredible sex, because she was one of those girl friends who thought that boys putting penises in butts was super hot.

“David…” Dana began as if she knew the answer already, and it was the biggest news of the day. “Are you like, really, really into this guy?”

“I really, really am, D. I mean, as far as I can tell, he’s perfect. He’s sweet, intelligent, seems to be doing pretty well for himself, and he’s soooo fucking sexy.” David leaned in and whispered the last bit, feeling a blush just talking about Joseph.

“Whoa, you are really, really into him…” Dana enthused, then turned all gooey. “Ohhh, I’m so happy for you! After what’s-his-piss from Orange County, you deserve someone nice!” She grabbed David in a one-armed hug, decided it wasn’t enough, and put her coffee down to bear-hug her friend.

“I really hope it stays good. We’re going dancing tonight in WeHo, do you want to come?” he offered, half-hoping she’d say no. He felt bad about abandoning his bestie but wasn’t ready to share Joseph with anyone quite yet.

Dana answered like she was reading his mind. “I would, but I think it’s too soon to be introducing him to your friends. Especially me. I’m a lot.”

“Are you suuuure?” he pushed, adding a little sarcasm this time.

Dana caught on. “You little bish, you didn’t want me to say yes! You are devious!”

They bantered a while longer, and when David said he had to come up with the plans for the night, Dana helped with those, too. At one point, they had to take a break to read through one of the scripts that had been drafted by the writers, but afterward, they got right back to goofing off and planning a night out dancing.

It wasn’t until one of the interns casually mentioned it looked like rain that either of them thought to check the weather. Why would they? This was Los Angeles, the land of dreams and sunshine. Even with the big puffy clouds this morning, it never occurred to David to check a weather app unless it was literally physically precipitating. Outside of the winter months, clouds were more of a tease than an actual portent of rain. Like Mother Nature delighted in dangling the possibility of moisture over the semiarid landscape but never actually giving it.

David was disappointed by the forecast they found for showers all evening. He tried to text Joseph to see if he wanted to change plans but got no immediate answer. He explained to Dana what Joseph had said about not being able to answer messages until later.

“What does he do? Is he a doctor or something?” she asked incredulously.

David thought, searching for a memory where Joseph might have disclosed his job. Nothing sprang to mind. “I don’t know, but it seems important. He wears nice clothes and seemed really chummy with the guys at the Magic Castle.”

Dana looked disappointed in David. “You never asked his job? He could be unemployed for all you know?”

“Or he could be a prince who is disguising his wealth until he knows if I love him for who he really is rather than for his money.” David cocked his head, realizing something. “Actually, he does have a hint of an accent…”

“Oh, yeah, that’s much more likely,” she shot back. “A gorgeous guy in Los Angeles who isn’t just an unemployed actor or model or something and who didn’t just max out his credit cards to look more important than he truly is.”

“Hey, I’m not an unemployed actor or model or something,” David pointed out.

“I did say gorgeous, though, soooo…” She batted her eyes and gave her innocent What did I say? face, and he tried to look pissed, but they both broke and the moment was a pure joke again.

“But seriously,” she told him, “This is night three, and you’re super into him; it’s time to find out what he does.”

David continued with his pro-Joseph train of thought. “Maybe he’s just cautious about letting new people into his life. All I know is, everything I’ve seen so far has been amazing. So even if he doesn’t have a great job—”

“Or no job.”

“—or no job, that’s not a deal breaker. Did I tell you he literally stopped to smell the roses our first night walking back to my place?”

Dana looked at her friend and saw the adoration in his face. “Okay, that is pretty freaking sweet. Who does that?”

The end of the day finally came, and David walked to his car. He had his parking spot in a garage on the lot, but he still had to walk across the studio in the rain to get there. As far as rain went, it was more of a heavy misting, but the clouds were blocking out the sun just the same, and the late afternoon was gloomy and grey.

The drive home was slow and plodding. All the studios tended to get out around the same time, at 6:00 PM, so traffic heading to Hollywood along Barham was congested in the same way as it was in the morning, just in the opposite direction. The rain made everything worse. Even though it barely required the use of windshield wipers, Angelenos as a group completely lost their minds and forgot how to drive when water falls from the sky in even miniscule amounts.

When he was just cresting the top of Barham heading to the Cahuenga Pass, David’s phone rang through the Bluetooth of his Accord. It was Joseph.

“Hey, hot stuff,” David answered using the hands-free button on the steering wheel. He winced a bit, not sure if they were at the point yet where that kind of greeting was appropriate. Joseph’s reply put him at ease.

“Hey yourself, sexy. How was work?”

“Boring. Still not a lot to do until the season starts to go into production in two weeks.” The wipers squeaked as they made an intermittent swipe across the windshield, and David looked over to check his blind spot, changing lanes to avoid a bus he saw several vehicles ahead. “How was yours?”

“Pretty boring too, practically slept through it. I just got your text about tonight.”

“Yeah, the rain. It’s not too bad, do you still want to go dancing?” David hoped Joseph would say yes. Not only did he love dancing, but he kinda wanted to be with Joseph in public. His desire was a mix of mild exhibitionism and a bit of showing off to the world that he had a hot man on his arm after too many nights alone.

“I can certainly deal with the rain. I’ve lived in places with actual weather, so this doesn’t bother me.” Joseph laughed on the other end of the line.

David suddenly realized he was hungry. All he’d had besides a donut and coffee was some vegetables and hummus he kept in the staff fridge. “Do you want to grab food first?”

“Actually, I’ve got some stuff I need to wrap up here,” Joseph answered. “Why don’t you eat if you’re hungry. I’ll grab something on the go, and we can meet later, say, 9:00 PM?”

“Sounds perfect. Fiesta Cantina?” David picked a place that was central to all the bars, and easy to find.

“Fiesta á nueve. See you then, handsome.” Joseph was smiling, David could hear it in his voice, and his heart melted a bit at being called handsome by someone he thought was so hot.

“Perfecto. See you then.”

A couple of hours later, David finished his dinner of salad with lentils and cottage cheese and got ready to leave. The rain had reduced to a mere mist, but he suspected it would be enough to keep the gays home and out of the clubs. Not all of them, of course, but it wouldn’t be quite so lively in downtown WeHo as a usual Friday night. Which suited David just fine. Usually, when a night out dancing alone was a numbers game of finding a piece of ass, the more asses the better. But tonight, he had a piece already. Guaranteed! So, a little more room on the dance floor was kind of perfect.

At 8:30 PM he was dressed and heading out the door. The weather created a conundrum in that David’s normal attire for Boystown was tight and revealing. But the air had a chill, and it was wet. So the delicate question was whether to don a jacket or long-sleeved shirt, or, God forbid, carry an actual umbrella. He was sure he had one somewhere, if he looked hard enough. He could avoid that issue altogether by taking a Lyft to the bar, but it was so close that seemed wasteful, and he imagined such a short ride would annoy a Lyft driver.

Then he remembered that West Hollywood had started a free trolley service that ran up and down Santa Monica Boulevard on weekends. He wouldn’t have to walk in the rain. It suddenly solved every problem, and he was out the door, looking sexy in a fitted short-sleeve shirt that showed off his physique.

David’s apartment was only a block south of SMB, and the trolley stop was right by the intersection on the other side of the thoroughfare. He got to the bus stop and saw the westbound trolley was less than a block away. They only ran every twenty minutes or so and he felt very lucky indeed.

The streets were busy as they always were with vehicles of all kinds, but the trolley was virtually empty. David was mildly surprised to be getting onto an empty bus, but then understood it was still early for a Friday. Things didn’t tend to pick up until ten-ish. The WeHo Trolley was made up to look like a trolley car from San Francisco. The seats were wooden benches on either side of a central aisle. Being West Hollywood, the front of the ride was home to bowls of condoms and cards featuring deals at the various establishments along the boulevard. One dollar drinks at FUBAR, no cover at the Factory, and so on.

The condoms gave David pause, as he realized he and Joseph had not only fucked bare every time they had had sex, they hadn’t had the STI conversation he usually encouraged with every sexual partner. David got tested for the full panel of potential infections every three months as part of his Pre-Exposure Prophylaxis program, a daily pill he took designed to prevent HIV infection, and the PrEP itself reduced that biggest worry to a statistical zero. But still, there were things other than just HIV out there, so he usually used condoms with new guys, and always had the STI talk, verifying that potential partners were tested regularly and knew their status. He even usually insisted that partners be able to share results. A lot of guys balked at this and called him paranoid, but he got his test results sent to his phone automatically, so David figured it was so easy, it was a good habit to have and encourage in others.

Have the talk. David nodded in agreement with his own pledge and resolved to talk to Joseph about it.

The nearest trolley stops to Fiesta Cantina were two blocks away in either direction, so David got off on the first one, just past the car wash. He crossed Palm Avenue towards Fiesta and saw that there was a big commotion by the bar that used to be Eleven but was something else now that he couldn’t remember the name of. There were lights and photographers and a step and repeat which meant celebrities or people who thought they were celebrities. It was craziness and David had no desire to try to push his way through throngs of wannabe influencers. Fortunately, he knew a shortcut through an alleyway behind the clubs he frequently used when nights got busy and the packs of college twinks were just too much.

He turned right on Palm and then left down the alley. The noise of WeHo died down significantly behind the buildings, as did the illumination of the streetlamps. What light there was glowed as the misting rain diffused it and created a sheen on every surface. The laughter and the honking cars and the demands of paparazzi to “Hey, look over here! Over here! Over here!” became dulled by several stories of brick and the moisture in the air.

David had his hands tucked into his jeans, his bare arms glistening below the sleeves of his burnt orange Henley shirt. His head was down to keep the chill drizzle out of his face, so he didn’t see the couple standing directly in his path until he practically ran into them. He was stopped by a man’s hand on his chest.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, mate!” the man scolded with a detectable European accent.

David initially flinched at the direct physical contact that seemed to come out of nowhere. It wasn’t like he was zoned out. He should have been able to see someone coming towards him with plenty of time to veer his path. “Oh, shit! Fuck, I’m sorry, dude. You okay?” He didn’t know why he asked. It was reflex, he supposed. He had stopped before colliding with the pair, thanks to the man’s outstretched hand. His companion, a woman with dark hair and caramel skin, giggled. David didn’t wait for a response to his question; it was mostly meant as an “excuse me” as they each proceeded on their way, so he took a step to his right and resumed walking.

The man blocked his path.

“Am I okay? Listen to him, my love, he wants to know if I am okay. Such courtesy.” He leaned in closer to David. “We have not experienced this since arriving in your city. I would say most people have been downright rude.” He looked at the woman over his shoulder but maintained eye contact with David. “Wouldn’t you say, Roxana?

“So very rude, my batal,” she replied, her voice silky and smooth.

Deep for a woman her size, David thought. He wondered casually if she was trans but a growing part of his brain was sounding an alarm. This was not usual.

“I’m … really sorry people have been rude to you. Uh, sorry, I’m meeting friends,” David stammered, trying to step around the man, who was wearing all black like he was coming from a funeral.

The woman tsk-tsked as the man blocked his path again. “He is sorry even for other people,” he said to the woman, Roxana, and turned back to David. “But he does not know what he is really sorry for…”

David’s mind flooded with panic. Oh fuck, oh fuck, is this a gay bashing? He had taken ten years of Soo Bakh Do martial arts training, but in this moment, off guard, his black belt meant nothing. He forgot every lesson, every combination of moves. This man radiated menace, and he was clearly out to impress his girlfriend, or maybe they were a psychotic pair like in Natural Born Killers. A homophobic Bonnie and Clyde. The only thing David could think to do was put distance between them, and he began to back away. He took two steps and was stopped by something. Fuck, oh shit, there are more of them! He turned to see what was in the way and saw it was the woman. Roxana, her name is Roxana, his brain somehow thought it important to remind him. David whipped his head back to the man who should have had a woman standing next to him. She was gone. Somehow, she had moved fast enough to block his exit. He was trapped.

“He is afraid, my darling,” the woman purred, her accent unfamiliar.

David tensed his body, making himself ready to fight. The awful irony of being attacked in the middle of West Hollywood, a place created to be a safe haven for people who weren’t welcome elsewhere in the world, suddenly surfaced. “You’re in West Hollywood!” he told them, his voice raising in pitch and volume. “Go somewhere else if you have a problem with us!”

“You think we are prejudiced against men who lay with men?” the man said. “No, this is not a random act of violence.”

The woman was suddenly right behind him, her hand at his throat and her voice next to his ear. “It is you we have questions for.”

David’s brain suddenly shifted out of neutral and slammed into gear. All his training focused his mind, and he knew exactly how to break a grip like the one on his neck. You started by grabbing the attacker’s hand and using it as an anchor, holding it against yourself while dropping and spinning towards the thumb. Then thrust up with your legs to use the momentum to unbalance and flip the attacker. Once free, he’d take the open path back around the building and down to the main street where there were people and cameras and police and big burly bouncers at every club.

Those thoughts went through David’s mind, but did not make it to his body. He could see the entire scenario play itself out in his imagination, but his vision was arrested by the gaze of the male attacker. David couldn’t look away from his eyes. Were they glowing? That didn’t seem right. His feet felt like concrete, his legs like lead. He could remember having moved his body before, but for the life of him, couldn’t get the desire to move from his brain to his body parts.

I might die now.

The thought flitted like a lightning flash through his mind, interrupting all others before it was pushed away by more rational thinking. Surely no. No one gets murdered behind the Yogurt Stop.

The man broke eye contact and looked David up and down, his face twisting in a grimace of revulsion. “Look at him struggle, my love. How weak-willed they are. Disgusting.” Though the man’s eyes were no longer boring into his own, David still couldn’t move. The longer he was trapped in his own body, the more he panicked. Adrenaline coursed through him, increasing his heart rate, but there was no possibility of fight or flight. He was a human statue.

The woman ran her fingernails across David’s neck. The physical sensation was at once dull, like the echo of a touch, and like fire. He felt like his skin was being sliced by red-hot knives, but maybe it was not even his skin.

“I can hear his blood, Alexander, it surges through him. Ask him now so that I might have some.”

She wants my blood?So this wasn’t a simple gay bashing, it was a full-on hate crime. David tried to scream, but no sound same from his throat. His lungs began to burn. Was he breathing?

“I don’t know who you are,” the man (Alexander! David’s mind shouted. Remember that so you can identify the man who killed you.) told him. “We were searching for another and found his scent on you.” He breathed in deeply, smelling David’s skin and clothes. “And in you. You have lain with Joseph? You may nod yes or no.”

This is about Joseph? Who are these people?David silently asked. Another part of his mind thought the answer to Alexander’s question, and he felt his head nod up and down as if controlled by remote.

“How embarrassing to have a father who lies with males,” Alexander spat, though it wasn’t clear if the barb was directed at David or the woman who held his throat.

Father? What? This can’t be about my Joseph. They must have me confused with someone who slept with an older man named Joseph. My God this is insane somebody help me help me help me—

“He cannot help the way he is, love. Let me release him from his miserable existence,” Roxana purred, giving David’s neck a lick. “We must be quick. We are exposed, even in this back street…”

“You are right, my queen, of course. And if this whelp means something more to Joseph than a mere sexual conquest—” he leaned in close to David’s ear “—all the better.”

The man lowered his head, and David felt his attackers’ breath on both sides of his throat. He was going to die, he was certain of it. He found he could close his eyes so he did, though he was sure it wouldn’t spare him the pain of whatever came next.

What came next was a roar from behind that sounded like a large lion or a small dinosaur. The grip on him first loosened, then disappeared with the sound of an impact as his assailants were hit by something big and vicious. David found his body could move again but downward seemed to be the only reasonable direction. He collapsed to the ground. There was a flurry of movement as blows were exchanged and bodies were slammed into nearby dumpsters.

Great, David thought, his brain struggling to interpret the events of the last few minutes. I’ve escaped one gruesome death only to be mauled by a rabid mountain lion. Did mountain lions live in the Hills? Did they ever come into the city? His modern human mind crazily tried to recall if he’d ever read an article about mountain lions in Los Angeles while his prehistoric reptile brain screamed wordless prayers for a quick death.

There was a flutter of clothing and a whoosh of movement, and the screams were gone. The muted sounds of the city returned to David’s ears. Of course, the lion had scared away the attackers, and it was now circling him, closing in for the kill. David found he was hugging his legs and decided it was best to keep doing that. He heard a scuffling that sounded like dress shoes on asphalt. It was probably a predator’s paws and claws scraping on wet pavement, but the sound focused his mind and suddenly, he was not okay with being eaten by an animal in the middle of the city. If there was any way out of this, it meant fighting, not dying in a ball in a dirty, wet alley.

He had no idea how to fight off a mountain lion (it could be a pack of coyotes, you’ve seen those in WeHo), and his mind could barely put two coherent thoughts together, so he just unfurled himself enough to scream as loud as he could. Once he got his head up he’d find the danger and direct his scream at it and then, well, he’d see what happened.

“David!”

The lion was screaming his name because he was going crazy from the stress of the attack, of course. David howled back louder in an inarticulate expression of fear and rage but mostly fear.

A gentle yet strong hand grasped his shoulder. “David, stop! It’s me!” Another hand grasped David’s other shoulder and shook him lightly. He opened his eyes and saw Joseph, his piercing blue eyes wide with concern.

David’s scream died suddenly in his throat. Joseph was here. Holding him. He was safe. David didn’t know how he knew he was safe, but somehow in his mind that was broken into a thousand puzzle pieces and trying to assemble a coherent view of the world, he knew Joseph. The kindness of the last few days flooded into him and soothed the jagged edges of his terror.

Joseph’s eyes were full of compassion and worry. He had a cut on his forehead and blood was running down his temple. David looked at the rest of him, his mind yearning for context and saw that his lover’s clothes were torn. Gashes were ripped across his maroon shirt. David’s mind was still piecing things together and he thought, Joseph fought off a lion?

“Joseph?”

“Yeah, babe, it’s me. You’re okay. Everything’s okay.” He pulled David into a fierce hug filled with relief.

“Jmmsmmph…” Face buried in Joseph’s chest, David began to cry, the adrenaline and stress and fear having nowhere to go but through his tears.

“Shhhh, shh-shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” Joseph rocked him slowly, holding on to David as if he’d never let go.

A thought percolated through David’s disjointed mind. “Babe…” he murmured. That’s what Joseph had called him. It felt right. Then, another thought, “Hey… do you have a kid?”

Then David passed out.