Bear, Otter, & the Kid 03 - The Art of Breathing (20 page)

You would be too. It’s
Bear
.

Katie Rhine must figure she’s not going to get anything further out of me. She instructs her cameraman to take a few more shots of the “destructive power of protest” (she’s still gunning for that Pulitzer), before she turns in a cloud of self-importance and azaleas. She leaves, her high heels clicking along the asphalt.

People come and go from the restaurant, staring at us curiously, whispering to themselves. Part of me wants to get up and remind them that they’re eating their way to a heart attack by the age of thirty-five, but I’m able to squash that down as it appears that would probably only make things worse. Plus, I’m still hoping the ground will open up beneath me and swallow me whole so I don’t have to suffer through the rest of what will undoubtedly be my short, short life.

I wonder how easy it would be to get out of the cuffs and make a break for it. I’d probably head for Canada and change my name to something Canadian. Like Carl. Or French-Canadian, like Pierre. I’d have to go into hiding and make a living as a Zamboni driver. All that talent, wasted on smoothing ice. Ah, well. No matter. What will be will be.

Except I can’t get out of the handcuffs. I don’t think I’d get very far running with my arms secured behind my back. I’m pretty sure Canada wouldn’t let me in that way.

“So,” Kori says. “Today has certainly been fun.” She doesn’t sound like she means it. At all.

“Goddamn beach hippies,” I mutter. “I’m not going to get to Canada because the goddamn beach hippies are rock-throwers.”

“Probably,” Kori agrees, as if she can hear the crazy in my head. For all I know, she can. “I’m pretty sure they’ll see this when it’s broadcast on the Internet for all the world to gawk at and immediately close the borders. Your future is pretty much over. Want me to go see if BJ’s is hiring?”

“You’re not helping.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I’m handcuffed while being forced to sit on a curb in a dirty parking lot while wearing a two-hundred-dollar summer dress.”

“You spent two hundred dollars on a dress?” I think the most expensive piece of clothing I own is a pair of jeans that cost thirty bucks at the mall.

She rolled her eyes. “Just because you dress without any thought doesn’t mean others have to do the same.”

“I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

“Before or after we go to jail?”

I groan and hang my head. “I can’t go to jail! I’m five foot seven. That’s like snack-sized to the miscreants and ruffians!”

“It probably doesn’t help that you’re adorable,” she tells me. “There’s going to be no end to what they do to you. If prison TV shows have taught me anything, it’s that you need to find the biggest, baddest, most hard-core motherfucker in there and become his bitch. His name will be Large Tom, and you’ll have to hold his outturned pocket wherever you go. And since Large Tom is the most hard-core, no one else can touch you or they’ll get shanked.”

“They probably don’t even have vegetarian meal options in jail,” I say, my voice full of disdain. “I’ll probably be force to eat some kind of mystery meat.”

“And then be forced to eat Large Tom’s meat,” Kori says. “I am so sad for you.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

“That’s because I’m really not.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Making you march and chant with beach hippies.”

“Yes, there is that. And?”

“And the getting arrested part.”

“Hmm. Yes. That.”

“If it makes you feel better,” I say hopefully, “I’m sure you’re going to look amazing on the news.”

The barest of smiles cracks her lips. “I do look good today, don’t I?”

“Gorgeous.”

“Flatterer. I suppose now we should discuss the elephant in the room.”

“We don’t have to,” I say hastily, knowing where this is going. I give serious consideration to making a run for Canada, handcuffed or not.

She arches an eyebrow at me. “I believe we do.”

“If I don’t end up in jail, I’ll find a way to smuggle cigarettes as currency so you have anything you ever want.”

“Why would
I
be the one to go to jail?” she asks.

“You look the type.”

“Wow. As nice as that sounds, I’d rather talk about Dominic.”

Shit.
“Isn’t it a nice day out?”

“Quite. So, in thinking back about our past conversations regarding our arresting officer, who you pined for like a lovesick twelve-year-old girl, I do believe you neglected to mention that he was built like a fucking brick shithouse and is literally the hottest thing to ever walk the face of the earth.”

I groan. Loudly. “Can we not do this now? He might hear you!”

She glances over her shoulder to BJ’s. “Not quite. He’s still inside talking to the manager.”

“Well, then,
I
can hear you, and I don’t want to do this now. Or ever.” I’m pretty sure I can figure out Canadian money. I
am
technically considered a genius, after all. Well, except for the getting-arrested part.

“Has he always been that big?”

“Oh, look. That cloud looks like a mongoose.”

“No, it doesn’t. Focus, Tyson.”

“Fine. Yes. He’s always been big. He’s always been hot. He’s always been fucking Dominic, and I don’t know how this day can possibly get any worse.”

Except, that’s not quite true, is it? Yes, he’s always been big, but he was awkward. Kind and sweet, but awkward. His hands and feet always seemed bigger than the rest of him. And yes, he was always attractive, but in a boyish way. The gentle giant with the broken voice. That has all been replaced by a grown man who’s impossibly large and surrounded by a palpable air of authority.

And, wonder of all wonders, my dick is starting to get hard. That… is unfortunate. And ridiculous. And fucked up. Goddamn hormones! Go the fuck away!

I wonder
, it muses,
how those arms would feel? The scrape of that scruff on his face against your neck? The weight of him hovering above you? Obviously, he’d have to leave on most of the uniform. And the handcuffs could still be involved.

“This can’t possibly end well,” I mutter.

“What’s that?” Kori asks.

I don’t think Kori needs to know that I’m sitting outside a restaurant contributing to the downfall of American health standards in the sun with my hands cuffed behind my back, getting an erection while having unbidden dirty thoughts about my former best friend who I, for all intents and purposes, cut off from my life because I thought I was the only one for him and found out otherwise.

If I were a country singer, that’d be my first song: “I Don’t Eat Meat Unless It Belongs to the Man of My Dreams.”

I am so pathetic.

“Today,” I say instead. “Bear is going to murder me.”

“If Otter doesn’t do it first.”

“Or Creed.”

“Or Anna.”

“Or their parents.”

“Probably even JJ.”

I sigh. “Fun.”

“Look sharp,” Kori says. “Here comes Captain Steroids.”

And so he does. I try to look away, I try to close my eyes against the sight, but I can’t. It’s been four years since I’ve seen him, and it’s like there’s been a drought all that time and it’s finally raining. I can’t look away even if I try.

His shadow hits me first, rising up my legs and over my knees, hitting my chest and face. He blocks out the sun as he stands before us, looking down, eyes hidden again behind those mirror shades. His expression is unreadable. But somehow, even though I can’t see his eyes, I know he’s looking at me.

Seconds go by, I’m sure, but it doesn’t seem to matter. I almost forget that Kori’s sitting right next to me. I almost forget that my life is most certainly over. I almost forget everything aside from the fact that I breathe, but I can’t catch my breath. I can’t catch my breath because all I can see is
him
, all I can feel is
him
, all I can breathe is
him
.

No,
I think.
I am done with this. I am
over
this.

Sure you are,
it laughs.
Because this is the normal reaction of someone
over
it.

“Get up,” Dominic says gruffly. “Both of you.”

Somehow, I do. I push myself up with my legs and stand before him. He towers over me, and there’s no doubt in my mind he’s looking directly at me.

I feel Kori brush against me as she stands.

“Follow me,” Dominic says, and then he turns and walks toward the parking lot, where his cruiser sits.

“Here we go,” Kori says softly.

I, for once, don’t know what to say.

W
E
’
RE
STILL
cuffed in the back of the cop car as we drive through the streets of Seafare. The police radio crackles with language that sounds like every stereotypical cop show I’ve ever seen. He spoke into the handset once, muttering something I couldn’t quite make out, but has said nothing for the last five minutes.

Naturally, both my brain and mouth want to fill the silence with as much noise as possible. I’m barely able to restrain them both from blaring out the most asinine drivel ever uttered in the back of a police car. There’s a bird outside that I want to talk about. There’s a new hotel I’ve never seen before. I sure am sorry about the window being broken. I don’t know the real names of the hippies. I could help him find them, though! Sure! We could be like detectives and go sleuthing. Why was he at BJ’s? Was he
really
eating the food there? Does he remember
nothing
I’ve taught him? Oh, and I’m so fucking sorry for the last four years. And how’s Stacey? How’s your wife? You fucking bastard. You fucking asshole. And I sure would be grateful if Bear didn’t find out about this.

And on. And on. And on.

So much wants to come out. So I say none of it.

It’s Kori who starts. If I wasn’t restrained, I’d probably clock her upside the head. “So, Officer.”

He says nothing.

“Shut up,” I hiss at her.

She ignores me. “I understand you know our Tyson here.”

Nothing.

“He coerced me into being here today,” she says with a sweet smile. “I wanted nothing to do with this. I am completely innocent in this matter. If you let me go, I promise I’ll testify against him in court.”

“Traitor!” I say, scandalized.

“Darling,” she says. “I do
not
look good in orange. Specifically prison orange. It makes me look very Hep C. I
will
throw you under the bus if I have to.” She leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “But I still love you dearly.”

“This friendship is over,” I announce grandly.

“No, it’s not,” she says. “You’ll forgive me. You always do.” A weird glint comes into her eyes, the one that means she’s about to say something meant to cause trouble. “You even forgave me when I broke your heart.”

Oh no.

She turns back to the front seat. “Yes,” she sighs dramatically. “That’s right, Dominic. May I call you Dominic?” She doesn’t wait for a reply. “Young Tyson here and I used to be enamored with one another. We were… besotted, one might say. Well, certainly
he
was. But then, I
am
a pretty magnificent specimen.”

“Kori, please stop talking,” I beg.

Of course she doesn’t. “We dated for a time. Everything was sunshine and flowers and kisses and love, but then I broke his poor little heart. I told him we just weren’t meant to be. I saw something in him that I knew meant we’d be together forever, just not in the way we thought could be possible. We’re kindred spirits, he and I. Attached. He’s my soul mate, but not of the romantic kind.” She winks at me as if this is supposed to make me feel better.

“Yet you’d give him up to avoid jail time?” Dominic asks. Wonder of all wonders, he sounds almost amused. Gruff and rigid, sure. But almost amused. Kori does have that effect on people. It’s odd, really.

“In a heartbeat,” she says. “After all, no love is too great that it can’t be given up to avoid prison. I think Benjamin Franklin said that. Or Nelson Mandela. Or Kelly Clarkson. I’m not sure which.”

“I worry about the future of the world,” I say, “when a fictitious quote is attributed to Nelson Mandela or Kelly Clarkson. That says so much about our generation.”

“Mouthy little shit, isn’t he?” Kori asks Dominic, like they’re the best of friends.

“And you dated?” he asks her.

She nods gravely. “It burned brightly. But like any flame, it eventually went out. It was replaced by something else just as warm. Tyson and I are bound together forever now.”

“Ugh,” I say to no one in particular. “I feel like I didn’t get a say in the matter.”

“You didn’t,” she tells me sweetly.

“I noticed when I looked at your driver’s license…,” Dominic says. “Transgender?”

“Oh, look how progressive he is!” Kori gushes. “Most people would have asked if I was a drag queen. All they tend to see is a boy in a dress. You’re a lovely man, Dominic. But no. Not transgender. Bigender.”

I expect Dominic to ask what that means (most people do), so I’m surprised when he nods in understanding. “I’ve met a couple of bigender kids,” he says. “Down at the shelter. They were having a hard go of it, but they were getting the counseling they needed.”

Kori turns to me and says, “I like him.”

“Oh joy,” I mumble at her. “My life is now complete.”

“I certainly don’t know why you and Tyson haven’t kept in touch,” Kori says to Dominic, and I swear the temperature in the car drops at least fifty degrees. “A man such as yourself with your obvious degree of acceptance. Well, you are young, I guess. What are you? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”

“He’s twenty-six,” I say without meaning to.

“Twenty-six!” Kori says cheerfully. “And so
big
. Oh my, yes. Aren’t you just the biggest thing I ever did see?”

“I work out,” Dominic says with a shrug. He’s obviously enjoying himself far too much, and I realize the cooler temperature is only coming from me, but it’s
radiating
throughout the car.