Three Days Later

Lost in thought, I trudged through the path of gritty sand between the dune grasses and headed toward my perch for the day - the same one I would be virtually imprisoned by for the next couple of months.  I was surprised that Brian had left me alone for the past few days; I didn't run into him in the dining room, nor did I see him when I exited my suite to come out to the beach each morning.

And as much it pained me to admit it, I kind of missed seeing him out on his surfboard and hearing his patronizing, conceited, and snarky comments; while the man seemed to excel at irritating me just for the fun of it, at least he had helped to enliven things up somewhat during my tedious duties.  It was almost getting so bad now that I hoped for an outbreak of shark attacks or even a red algae scare.  At least that would provide a little excitement.

I sighed as I reached my station, frowning as I heard noises coming from above me.  I looked up to observe Zipper setting up the large shade umbrella above the lifeguard's chair.  He glanced down at me and smiled.  "Hey, Matey," he teasingly greeted me.  "What's up, Dude?"  He waggled his pinkie and index fingers at me.

I wrinkled my nose up as that just reminded me of someone else I was trying to forget.  "Cut out the surfer crap, Zipper," I groused in irritation as I ascended the steps to the balcony.  "What are you doing up here?"

"Reporting for duty, Captain," he continued facetiously with a short salute as I dropped my supplies down on the small, white, wooden table next to the patrol chair.

"I'm not in the mood, Zipper," I warned him as I reached for the sun blocker and opened up the cap to start liberally applying some of the white lotion onto my left arm.  "Go play with a shark somewhere."

"Hey," he retorted.  "That's no way to talk to a fellow lifeguard.  What got shoved up your ass this morning?"  He arched one eyebrow at me questioningly.

More like what DIDN'T, I couldn't help thinking. Aloud, I grumbled in half apology, "I'm just not in a very good mood today."

He huffed.  "No shit.  But you're still going to get a reprieve today.  Here."  He reached over to snatch a white envelope off the arm of the chair; it was emblazoned with the resort's letterhead in the corner.  He handed it to me as I noticed my first and last name written on the front in a nondescript print, but nothing else.

I scrunched up my face in confusion.  "What's this?"

He shrugged.  "I don't go reading sealed mail," he told me mysteriously.  I thought I saw just the hint of amusement on his face as I peered over at him suspiciously before ripping the end open and sliding out a matching, folded piece of the resort's stationery.  I could feel the heat of Zipper's stare on me as I unfolded it and began to read the short, cryptic message printed on the paper:

You have the day off.  Meet me at the boardwalk by the funnel cake stand.  Let loose a little and have some fun for a change (if you can).  You won't regret it. 

I held the piece of paper in my hand as I stared over at a stony-faced Zipper.  "Who wrote this?"  It certainly wasn't my father.  The mere thought almost made me laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it.  And the only other person I could think of had been studiously ignoring me.

The older man had the gall to shrug nonchalantly as he told me, "Don't know.  It was here when I got here."

I sighed in barely-concealed impatience.  "Well, you have to know something; you weren't scheduled to work in my place," I pointed out.

He placed his arm around my shoulder as he said, "Justin, my boy, don't look a gift horse in the mouth.  I am being more than well-compensated for taking over for you today, and your old man won't even notice who's minding the store, so to speak.  You know he never comes out here on the beach; he leaves that up to us peons instead.  So just enjoy it."

I had to agree with that; my father didn't like getting sand in his shoes or being subjected to shrieking kids as they played in and out of the waves; he was almost as pale as me, because he rarely spent any time out in the sun, preferring instead to sit under one of the back patio's bar umbrellas while he sipped a glass of Chivas Regal.  That was the extent of his 'strenuous beach activities.'  Still..."I don't know..."

Zipper harrumphed.  "Justin, you're a smart kid, but right now you're acting like an idiot," he told me as I shot him a glare.  "Now GO!"  He gave me a firm but not overly aggressive push toward the wooden stairs as I finally nodded in acquiescence.  I had to admit; the idea of just having the day off to enjoy as I saw fit sounded heavenly right now, but I still wanted to know who my benefactor was.  It was probably Daphne, I decided, although I wondered how much money she had to fork over to actually pay for Zipper to replace me for the day.  Perhaps I could give her my day's pay to help make up for it.  She knew how miserable I was not being to work on the boardwalk instead of here at the lifeguard station, since I had talked to her by phone last night.  I had intentionally left Brian out of the conversation, however.

"Okay," I told him as he smiled at me in approval.  Grabbing my supplies since I knew I would be in the sun quite a bit, I headed back down the way I had come, not noticing Emmett watching me from the door of the surfer shop with a smile on his face as I turned in the direction of the boardwalk located several hundred feet away.

Arriving a few minutes later, I entered by the main entrance, hearing the familiar sound of the somewhat tacky, piped-in calliope music blaring from the loudspeakers and the unmistakable smell of cotton candy, steak sandwiches, and salt air.  Even though it was barely 9:15 in the morning, people were already heading down from the parking lot located near the entrance; I followed a steady stream of camera packing, overweight tourists wearing flowered Hawaiian shirts and too-tight shorts as we walked single file toward the main part of the pier and boardwalk, dotted on both sides with food and game booths, tourist shops, and the ever-present caricature artist stands that I had hoped to occupy for the summer.  I sighed as I envisioned myself sitting next of one of the easels, drawing frequently and getting paid to do what I actually loved.  I had always envied those kinds of people who got paid to do what they enjoyed anyway, but it seemed the fates had conspired against me, at least for the summer.

Finally freed from the narrow walkway heading onto the boardwalk, I relished the more open space as I headed toward the funnel cake booth, craning my neck to look for Daphne.  The shop  where she worked was before I would reach the funnel cake stand, however, so perhaps she was intending on my joining up with her there.

I could see the metal display stand of hats and sunglasses already perched just outside the shop's door, so I knew it was open as I approached it.  Heading inside the small confines of the souvenir shop, it didn't take me long to spot her long, wavy, flowing brunette hair, tucked behind a pink visor as she rang up a sale for a customer.  Her eyes met mine as she handed a paper bag to the customer and smiled at me.

"Hey, Justin!" she called over to me as I smiled back at her in return.  "This is a nice surprise!  You mean your father let you out of your cage for the day?  I'm shocked.  How'd you manage that?"

I furrowed my brow in confusion.  "Wasn't it you that sent me that note?"

Daphne shook her head.  "What note?"

I handed her the envelope I still had clutched in my hand as I watched her read the message before she shook her head.  "It wasn't from me," she confirmed.  "What's it mean?"

"Well, apparently someone paid for Zipper to take my place as lifeguard today, but I don't know who it is."

She grinned.  "Only one way to find out," she said, her eyes lighting up with curiosity as she slid out from behind the counter.

"You can't go with me!" I warned her.  "You have to stay here at the store."

She huffed in disappointment.  "Fuck," she conceded before her face broke out into a devious smile.  "But I can still watch; it's not that crowded yet.  Maybe you have a secret admirer, Justin."

I snorted; that was typical Daphne. She was always the romantic, sappy one.  "Give me a break," I told her as she shrugged.  I let out a deep breath, my pulse speeding up just a bit at the unlikely thought.  "Well, like you said; only one way to find out."

Her eyes twinkled as I bid her goodbye.  "I want to know all the details later!" she yelled after me as I rolled my eyes.  I turned around briefly to notice her watching me; she gestured with her hands in a sort of 'go on,' shooing motion as I shook my head in exasperation and proceeded up to the funnel cake stand, painted a bright yellow with big, bright, red letters.

I looked around at the six patrons in line, as well as in the immediate vicinity, disappointed that I didn't recognize anyone; nor did anyone approach me or even give me a second glance.  "What the fuck," I muttered under my breath.

I was glad to be away from my lifeguard duties for the day, but I still had no idea what was going on.  My perplexed state must have shown on my face, because all of a sudden I heard someone shouting, "Hey, Golden Boy!"

I turned to stare over at the man behind the funnel cake booth, wearing a white, cotton, sailor-type cap and a matching, white, apron, smudged abundantly with flour and what appeared to be strawberry stains.  "You a lifeguard?"

I gave him a 'duh' sort of look, since I was wearing my obligatory uniform swim trunks with the hotel's 'tortoise' logo on them, clearing identifying my position at the resort.  We lifeguards were akin to ants scurrying around the beach, there were so many of us needing to watch the beach that you would have to be a box turtle with your head in the sand not to know who we were.  But I bit my tongue as I nodded back at him.

He nodded curtly as everyone turned to look at me curiously; my face warming over all the attention as he told me, "This is for you."  He reached under the stand to bring out a plain, white box that I recognized normally held a full-sized funnel cake in it.  "Well?  It won't bite and I don't have all day. I've got other customers.  Take it."

Biting my lower lip, I nodded as I walked up and took it out of his hands, instinctively realizing by the weight of it that it did, indeed, hold one of my favorite treats inside.  I turned and headed over to a nearby, round wooden table, scooting onto one of the curved benches to open up the box and peer inside.

It did contain a funnel cake inside, just as I hoped, covered on top with plenty of juicy strawberries and powdered sugar, my favorite kind.  I smiled in delight as I reached down and pulled an obscenely large piece off to stuff it in my mouth, looking around to find out who my benefactor might be as I chewed.  "Mmmm," I couldn't help moaning; it was still warm and just the way I liked it.  I had sprinted out of the resort this morning with just a piece of buttered toast, so the confection tasted especially wonderful to me.

Licking my fingers to rid myself of the sweet, sticky residue a few seconds later, my glance finally fell upon a familiar person watching me, and all at once it suddenly made perfect - but peculiar - sense as Brian Kinney smirked back at me from his place several yards away.  Somehow he had arranged to have a portable gazebo set up at the far end of the pier, replete with gauzy, white curtains that were fluttering from the soft breeze blowing in from the ocean; he was sitting on one of a pair of padded, chaise lounges set up inside, and I could make out a drink of some kind in his hand.  There appeared to be a long table behind him, but I couldn't see what was lying on top of it.  A portable, metal fence had been erected around it, presumably as a subtle declaration that his 'private oasis' at the boardwalk was off limits to everyone else.

I rolled my eyes, unable to resist smiling back at him, as he crooked his right index finger and signaled for me to join him.  Making sure to gather up my funnel cake, I walked down the wooden boardwalk to join him, slipping between a slight, open crack in the metal fence to slide inside the perimeter.

"Tell me you didn't walk here on that foot," were the first words out of my mouth as I sat down on the other chaise and placed the funnel cake next to me.

He snorted. "Please. I'm not an invalid any longer; I'm bad as new," he quipped.  "Your Daddy's doc gave me the all-clear signal."

"You did walk here, then?"  I repeated.  I was glad to hear that his foot was doing a lot better, but not so sure he should be walking on it so much just yet.

"Pedal ride," he told me as I nodded in understanding; there were muscled, tanned, strong-legged guys who made a fairly decent income by pedaling tourists around the hard, sandy part of the beach and the pier/boardwalk for those who were too lazy - or unwilling - to trudge up and down the beach from the various resorts and hotels to the more commercial areas; they were the only transportation operators allowed to actually ride up onto the boardwalk to drop off and collect fares.  "It was a sacrifice, sitting there in the seat while they did all the work and I stared at their ass...But I made the best of it."

"Uh, huh," I commented dryly.  "So you were the one who paid Zipper to take my place today, Cleopatra?"

He nodded at me with a grin as he took another drink from his glass.

"Why would you do that? That had to be expensive, Brian."  I glanced around at the gazebo he had somehow managed to make appear, seemingly out of thin air; I could see now where there was a virtual gourmet buffet spread out on the narrow table behind us.  All of this had to have cost a pretty penny, too.  "And this..."  I furrowed my brow as I fixed my gaze back on him.  "I don't even want to try and figure out how you managed it.  I don't understand."

"I have to eat," he told me with exasperating nonchalance.  "And you wouldn't want me to get all sunburned, would you?  Just because all the peasant tourists like to parade around looking like red-and-white-striped barber poles on the beach doesn't mean that I want to look like that, too."

I giggled at the thought.  "I don't think you have to worry about that," I maintained as I admired the bronze, sun-kissed glow of his arms, perfectly accentuated by the white, sleeveless wifebeater shirt he was wearing with a pair of skinny blue jeans.  I blushed as I realized he could tell I was staring at him as I mumbled, "You already have a tan."

"Glad you noticed," he murmured as my eyes locked onto his and he held them there for a few seconds before I averted my gaze shyly.  "So...are you going to help me eat some of this shit?" he asked softly.

I smiled as my eyes fell upon the funnel cake box beside me.  "I already had some of my dessert," I admitted as I heard him chuckle at me.

"I know.  That doesn't surprise me somehow."

I grinned back at him sheepishly before a notion struck me.  "By the way, was it just a big coincidence that you just happened to know about my favorite kind of funnel cake here at the boardwalk?"  My eyes narrowed in suspicion; no, that wasn't too likely, I decided.  "Just who is your accomplice here, Brian?  You couldn't have accomplished this all by yourself. You would have had no way of knowing about..."

"Does it matter, Justin?" he interrupted me with a sigh.  "Can't you just enjoy this for what it is?"

I placed my hands on my knees as I asked, "That depends.  Just what IS this, Brian?  We didn't exactly part under the best of circumstances the other night."  I thought he actually looked a little uncomfortable as he shrugged.

"I just thought you might like to have one day without being under your father's authoritarian thumb, that's all.  But if you'd rather go back and play Baywatch Hottie for the day, well, then..."

My face grew heated over his latest nickname for me as I shook my head. "No," I hastily told him.  "I wouldn't."  He smirked at me, knowing full well that would be my response.  I sighed, figuring I wasn't going to get much more of an answer out of him than that.  "So what am I here for?"

"Excuse me?"

My blush deepened as I clarified, "What is on the agenda for my day off?"

"Well, first things first," Brian replied as I watched him reach underneath the chaise lounge and retrieve what looked suspiciously like a sketchpad.  My eyes widened as I realized that was exactly what it was.  Taped to the front of it was a box of graphite pencils and an eraser.  "I don't know much about art supplies," he explained in reaction to the stunned look on my face.  "But someone in the gift shop told me this would be good for sketching, so I took their word for it.  Will these do for today?"

I took the supplies from him and stared down at the high-quality paper and the expensive pencils; both were way out of my budget and highly prized by artists.  "You mean...these...are for me?" I whispered in awe as my fingers brushed over the cover.

"Well, I could draw a mean stick figure with them, but that would be a waste of good paper," he told me teasingly as I lifted my gaze to smile a thanks at him.  He grinned at the look of delighted astonishment on my face.  "So yeah, those are for you.  I figured you might want to draw some landscapes today - or maybe some tourists...or maybe a funnel cake or two," he added teasingly.  "Maybe even Flipper, if he happens to swim by and gives us the bird, uh, flipper."

Or you...came instantly to my mind as I laughed at his joke.  From the moment I had seen Brian out there riding a wave, his body wet from the spray and standing so fluidly on top of his surfboard, I had been itching to draw him - over and over again. Would I perhaps get the chance today?  Better yet, would I have the nerve to ask him?  Because there was no way he wouldn't know if that was what I was doing; whenever I draw something, it has my complete attention, and with him I knew I wouldn't be able to drag my eyes away from him until I was finished.

"What?" I heard him softly press as I blinked, unaware I had temporarily zoned out. The sights and sounds of the boardwalk came flooding back into my senses as I took a deep breath and focused my attention back on him.  I couldn't resist the chance.  "Can...Can I draw you?" I asked tentatively, holding my breath as he stared over at me with those enchanting, ever-changing eyes.  I relaxed a little when I saw the familiar sardonic smirk appear on his face, guessing what his answer would be.

"I would expect nothing less than you wanting to draw perfection personified," he said as I snorted at the expected response before the two of us grinned at each other.  "How do you want me?" he asked with a sultry tone.  "Au natural?"   I watched with wide eyes as he reached down to grab the waist of his navy swim shorts in an apparent attempt to facilitate the process.

"No!" I shouted a little too loudly as some nearby sun worshippers craned their heads to peer into the gazebo curiously, wondering what all the excitement was about.  I lowered my voice as Brian chuckled, my face turning red again, as I told him, "I mean...I'll draw you later."  I noticed I didn't really answer his question completely, however; the idea of having a chance to actually draw this stunning man completely nude made me horny with anticipation.  I swallowed hard as he nodded back at me.

"Just as well," he told me, grinning widely back at me.  "We're not staying here anyway; this is just for breakfast."

I frowned.  "We're not? Then where...?"

He harrumphed. "You know, you ask a lot of questions, Gid...uh, Taylor," he corrected himself as I flashed him a raised eyebrow in warning.  "I have everything arranged for your day off; just let me take care of it, okay?"

I squinted at him, the sun rising behind him and making it hard to peer directly at him.  "I still don't understand why you're doing this."

I watched him hesitate for a moment before he seemed to come to a conclusion over the proper way to address that question as he responded, "I thought this might make up a little for the other day.  I'm not always a conceited jackass; just most of the time."

I had to snort at that before I asked tentatively, "Then...This is a date?"

He looked horrified at me.  "No, it most certainly is NOT 'a date'!  I do not 'do' dates; well, at least not any that don't have at least an 8" cock."  He eyed me intently for a moment. "Justin...how b..?"

I huffed as he rolled his lips inward playfully.  "Don't even go there," I replied evenly as I folded my arms across my chest.  I admit I was innately curious as to what else this man had planned for our 'adventure' today, but I wasn't sure that I wanted to be penciled in as the main event.  "I'm surprised you even have the gall to try and ask that after calling me Gidget all the time."

Brian chuckled at me, an almost musical sound that I found I couldn't be angry over.  "Well, like I said before you have pretty big feet," he observed as he glanced down at my feet, currently clad in flip-flops.  "So it goes without saying that you also have a big..."

"Aaargh!" I growled as I slapped my forehead with my left hand.  "You are the most exasperating man I have ever met!  Is that all you ever think about?!"

"I'm a healthy, red-blooded, fag; of course it is," he told me smoothly. But the twinkle in his eye and the lips rolled under told me otherwise.  "Now let's eat... "

I frowned.  How did he make THAT jump?  "Excuse me?"

"We both have healthy appetites," he explained.  "You like eating food and I like to eat..."

"Let's just skip that part," I quickly decided as I peered over at the narrow buffet-type table set up at the back of the gazebo.  "What's in those?" I asked, looked at several silver, dome-covered dishes.

"Grab a plate and take a peek," he instructed me.  "And bring me some coffee," he groused.  "Please," he added as an afterthought as I opened my mouth to protest his 'demand.'  "If I don't get caffeine in me soon, I'll have a bitch of a withdrawal headache."

"Is THAT why you're always so cranky?" I couldn't help asking as he glared over at me and I grinned sweetly back at him before rising to check out our breakfast spread.