I gradually came awake Saturday morning to an insistent thumping on the door.
I slept on my side, with my head on Jin Jai-Sik’s shoulder and one arm flung across his chest. His body gave off rancid vapors from last night’s whiskey, and his breath stank of cigarettes. He stirred but didn’t wake.
Outside, an unfamiliar voice called my name.
I rolled away from Jin and out of bed, cursing as I stepped on his shoes. I kicked them under the bed and hopped into sweatpants on my way to open the door.
Kevin’s boyfriend stood outside, looking sheepish. I recognized his round Chinese face from a chance meeting at the agency, where he programmed the computers.
“Sorry to wake you,” he said. “Kev couldn’t wait for the poster. You know how he is.”
Kevin sat in his Electric Wilshire at the bottom of the stairs, holding his hands up in a gesture of apology.
“I would have called first,” he said, “but you don’t have a phone. When are you going to get one?”
“This morning,” I said, and went inside to get the poster.
Jin was awake, covering himself with the sheet.
“The Chinese guy, he one of your lovers?”
“No, he’s not one of my lovers.”
I carried the poster, frame and all, to the door, where I handed it over to the boyfriend.
He glanced past me at Jin Jai-Sik, threw me a knowing smile, and went down the stairs, where Kevin grabbed the poster and looked it over.
“This is great!”
“I thought you might like it,” I said.
“Not a word to Queenie,” Kevin said.
“On my honor, Kev.”
He turned his wheelchair back down the driveway, passing a telephone installation man as he approached.
“Benjamin Justice?”
“That’s me.”
“Got your phone for you.”
I invited him up, showed him the phone jack, and left him to his work.
“What you do, bring him in here?” Jin whispered, drawing the sheet up higher around him.
“It’s West Hollywood. He understands.”
“You make me feel dirty.” He kept his voice low and a little tough. “Like you do last night.”
“We were equal partners last night.” I put an edge in my voice to let him know I didn’t feel intimidated. “In case you were too drunk to remember.”
He inched off the bed, wrapping himself in the sheet, and slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Moments later, I heard the water running.
By the time he finished showering, the telephone was installed and the service man was on his way out. I wrote my new number on a piece of paper and shoved it into Jin’s coat pocket.
He peeked from the bathroom to make sure we were alone, then emerged with a towel tucked around his waist. He brushed past me to the chair, where I’d placed his clothes the night before.
“I’m sorry if I was rude,” I said.
He kept his back to me and stepped into his shorts, pulling them up under the towel before he let it fall away. Droplets of water glistened on his back, which bore the marks of my frenzied passion from the night before.
I picked up the towel and patted away the moisture. The scratches were jagged and pink against his pale skin. As I gently touched each one, I felt blood pumping into my cock, raising it like a flag.
“You sure you don’t want to come back to bed for a while?”
“I sure.”
“I put my phone number in your jacket pocket.”
He slipped wordlessly into his shirt, still facing away from me. I decided to let him dress in privacy and went into the bathroom for a quick shower.
I was rinsing off when I remembered stepping on his shoes that morning as I rolled out of bed, and kicking them irritably from underfoot.
“Christ.”
I jumped from the shower and darted out dripping wet, scanning the room. Jin Jai-Sik was no longer there.
Then I fell to my knees and looked beneath the bed. The box of photos was gone.