Pearls of Asia: A Love Story (27 page)

Sheyla told him to go ahead, and that she would keep a spot warm for him under the covers.

Mac turned on the water. Then he turned off the lights.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

Thursday, September 18, 2008 - 5:00 am

“Photos posted on the celebrity gossip website
TMZ.com
show Paul Osher and a mysterious Asian model vacationing at the exclusive Four Seasons resort in Maui, where beach attendants spray sunbathing vacationers with Evian water.

US Magazine

A
WAKE FOR OVER AN
hour, Mac watched the minutes tick by on a digital clock. Sheyla lay next to him, sound asleep, her naked body spooned against his. He needed to get his butt into work, if for no other reason than to prevent Mayes from popping an artery. Yet here he was, laying underneath a white lacy canopy, thinking about his old high school nemesis; Dopey Danny Murphy.

Mac got into few fights growing up, but there was one he never forgot. He was a scrawny freshman at Mission High School, located two blocks from San Francisco’s landmark Mission Dolores. Basketball practice was over, and Mac had his head wrapped in a towel, drying his hair after taking a shower. Then without warning, Dopey Danny Murphy walked up and hauled off with a right jab square into Mac’s jaw, knocking him flat on the floor. Mac picked himself up, dusted himself off, and then drilled a right hook to the side of Dopey Danny’s head, depositing him into a laundry bin filled with dirty towels and sweaty jock straps. Unlike Ali vs. Frazier, this one didn’t go the distance.

The basketball coach grabbed the pint-sized pugilists and hauled them straight to the principal’s office. “Alright you knuckleheads,” he said, “Let’s hear it. What’s this all about?”

“During today’s scrimmage,” explained Dopey Danny, a lump forming on the side of his head, “Mac and I had to guard each other. One time when he was dribbling the ball up the court, he said, ‘You can’t beat me cuz you’re gay.’ He said it again when he beat me for a rebound. When we were done, Mac wouldn’t shake my hand because, he said, ‘I don’t shake hands with fags.’”

“Is that true, Mac?”

“Um…well…yeah, I guess so,” answered Mac, staring down at his Converse Chuck Taylor Hi-tops, “but I was just teasing him. I didn’t mean it or anything.”

The principal scolded Mac, telling him it wasn’t right to tease anyone just because they were different. Their punishment for fighting would be to stay after school and help the janitors clean toilets for a week. For taunting Dopey Danny, Mac was suspended for two basketball games.

As he sat on a bench outside the principal’s office, Mac started to sweat, terrified of what his mom might do to him. He had never been in trouble at school before, except in the third grade, after he put a wad of gum in Jill Malley’s hair because he had a crush on her. Mac was a solid student and he got along with almost everyone. His mother told him never to get physical unless someone was trying to hurt him. His father, on the other hand, would have pinned a medal on him for decking Dopey Danny.

Victoria Parker spoke to the principal before walking her son to the car. She stayed silent as they drove out of the school’s parking lot. Once they got a mile or two down the road, she stopped the car to give Mac a lesson he would never forget.

“Don’t ever say anything like that again, Mackey Fleet. Don’t even think it. Whether Danny Murphy is gay or not doesn’t matter. Frankly, it’s none of your damn business. Just because someone is different than you doesn’t mean you shouldn’t treat him or her with dignity and respect. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, young man?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. He knew his mom was right. She was always right.

AFTER EXPERIENCING ONE OF
the most erotic evenings of his life, Mac lay in bed next to his lover, searching for the answer to one simple question. Was he gay?

No matter how much he tried to rationalize, analyze, or scrutinize his behavior from last night, questioning his own sexuality had consumed him. He knew he made love to a woman, but there was no denying the fact that she had the same anatomy he did. Sheyla had aroused him unlike any lover he ever had, yet he couldn’t get over the fact that he had touched her “down there.” Not only did it not repulse him, he wanted to touch her again. Not because of some inane physical curiosity. Instead, he wanted to please Sheyla, to once again capture the rapturous look on her face while he made love to her.

Sheyla woke up as he tried to slip out from beneath the sheets. “Good morning, sexy,” she yawned while rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The bedspread had been kicked to the foot of the bed, and pillows were thrown all over the floor. So was a condom wrapper. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to get to work,” he huffed.

Sheyla protested, reminding Mac of their toast at Fleur de Lys. “Come on Mackey, stay in bed with me for awhile. I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

Mac started putting on his clothes. He complained about being late, while Sheyla pleaded for him to stay. “Ah, men and their work,” she said, finally giving in. “Would you mind getting me some water before you leave?”

Mac returned with two glasses of water, and he sat down beside her on the bed. He wanted to talk about what they did last night, because the way he figured it, there was no one else he could talk to. Yet he sat there, silent, searching for the right words to say.

“No, you’re not,” said Sheyla, breaking the silence.

“I’m not what? What are you talking about?”

“You’re not gay. I know what you’re thinking, Mackey. You made love to me last night, and the look on your face is saying, ‘Am I, Mac Fleet, life-long heterosexual male, gay?’ Well baby, I’m here to tell you in no uncertain terms, you are not gay. In fact, you might be the straightest guy I know.”

Her answer did little to quell his concerns, to answer the questions racing through his mind. “Maybe I’m not gay, but it doesn’t mean I’m straight either. I don’t know what I am. This is really upsetting me, Sheyla. I’m really confused right now.”

Sheyla asked Mac to get her robe. She slipped it on and sat straight up on the bed. She took another long drink of water, pulled her fingers through her hair, and then cleared her throat. If Sheyla were in a conference room instead of a bedroom, you’d think she was about to deliver the keynote address.

“Listen to me, Mac, because what I’m about to say to you is very important. First of all, there is nothing wrong with being gay. Being gay, straight, bi, green or blue is just a label some people like to use. What I can tell you is that you cared enough last night to satisfy me, which in my book makes you a great lover. So let me ask you a question: have you ever been sexually attracted to a man?”

“Never.”

“Has a man ever hit on you before?”

“Uh…this is San Francisco.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“I’d rather slit my wrists than have sex with another guy.”

“Are you attracted to women?”

Mac smiled at that question. Just looking at Sheyla in her robe, wearing no makeup and her hair a mess, was getting him aroused. “Of course I am.”

“Then I have news for you, Mr. Fleet. Gay men want to have sex with other gay men. You just said that having sex with a man repulses you. Then why on earth would you ever think you’re gay?”

“Because I just spent the night lying naked next to a person who pees standing up.”

Sheyla looked away in reflection. She was facing east, and the morning sun was rising over the Oakland Hills. “Mackey, I’m going to be honest with you. I know we just met, but I’m falling for you. I’ve never felt this way about a man before. But I need to let you in on a little secret if our relationship is going to go much further.”

“What’s that?”

Sheyla took his hands into hers. “The most important sex organ in the world, the one that gives us the most pleasure, the one that makes us want to cuddle and make morning memories in bed, and the one that wants us to spend lazy afternoons making passionate love on top of a kitchen table, is not the one between your legs. It’s the one between your ears. Don’t ever forget that.”

Mac leaned against a bedpost. For a woman who hadn’t graduated from high school, Sheyla had all the answers. Her words had the same calming effect as those his mother had told him years before. His mom was right then, and Sheyla was right now.

For the first time all morning, Mac’s mind went calm. He took Sheyla’s chin into his hand, looked into her eyes, and kissed her. Then he got undressed and crawled back into bed, and within moments they began making love again.

Two hours later, after he made her some eggs, sunny side up of course, Mac kissed her goodbye.

MAC COULD FEEL THE
Wrath of Mayes before he even walked into the precinct. “Where the hell have you been?” growled his mammoth partner. “Stone’s been cooling his heels in Longley’s office for almost an hour. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I’m sorry, Mayes,” replied Mac, out of breath after rushing back home to get ready for work. “I slept through my alarm, and I was probably in the shower when you called.”

“Whatever. Come on, they’re waiting for us.”

Captain Longley sat behind his desk, his feet straining to touch the floor. Chief Stone stood off in a far corner, red-faced, with beads of sweat forming on his forehead despite the fog-chilled air blowing in through an open window. Stone told the detectives to grab some pine.

“I know I don’t need to remind you guys that it has been almost a week since Michelle Osher was murdered, and not only have my two best detectives not made an arrest, but according to Captain Longley, you don’t even have a single credible suspect. Governor Schwarzenegger was all over me yesterday at Michelle Osher’s funeral, asking when we’re going to get this case off the front page. Meanwhile, I’ve got the press asking me about every insignificant detail, and if I don’t give them something, they’ll go with whatever rumors and innuendo they’ve got. And I’m sure you can imagine the new asshole Mayor Newsome likes to give me everyday. You guys are killing me.”

Mac tried to imagine the pressure Governor Square Jaw and Mayor GQ must have been applying to his boss. “We’re doing our best, sir. We’ve been…”

“Dammit Mac,” howled Stone, “I don’t want to hear you’re doing your best. I want a goddamn arrest!”

Mayes interjected, believing he knew exactly what Stone wanted to hear. “Sir, we have several strong leads that we believe will lead to an arrest any day now. We’ve learned that Michelle Osher was having an affair with a woman named Sonia Grisham, but she disappeared the day after the murder and her husband, Jim Grisham, doesn’t know where she is. She has a clear motive, however, because just days before the murder Michelle Osher broke off their relationship.”

“I don’t believe this,” cried Stone. “Rich conservative women behaving badly. Gives new meaning to the term ‘Tea Party.’ What else have you got?’”

“We’ve also located a source for the murder weapon, the Balisong switchblade,” continued Mayes, “and we’ve got a sting operation set up for tomorrow to help us identify the person responsible for distributing these knives. We’ve also identified Sheyla Samonte, Paul Osher’s mistress, as a strong suspect. Thanks to Mac’s outstanding surveillance, we’ve determined that she is indeed left-handed. Plus she doesn’t have a credible alibi for the night of the murder.”