ALFÉREZ APOLINAR, Jaime to Demetrio, took possession of the credit card, the tab, and the champagne glass, impressed Charlie had thought to hold on to it. He told the bartender they would bring in photos for him to look at later in the day.
“We are waiting for photos from Madrid,” Jaime said. There wasn’t a lot of criminal activity on Eivissa, and he and the other officers seemed to be enjoying this little drama.
They glanced at Océano but seemed wary of him. When Demetrio mentioned Jeanine leaving with the suspect—as the police had referred to him—they took her details and said they’d look into it.
“We’ll be in touch,” they said, but their gazes were on Océano.
When Charlie finally left the club and it was just the two of them, Demetrio turned to him.
“Wanna explain?”
Océano winced. “No, I can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” Demetrio was furious. “Jesus Christ, Océano. You’ve been in my home. You’ve been in my bed. For fuck’s sake… you’ve been inside me. I deserve some respect here. A fucking stranger came in here and ripped me off!”
“Okay, okay… look, I never meant this to happen. I… I like you. We were having fun and this has been an incredible day. I just wish it could be more. I wish… I wish this island… I wish being with you was reality. But it’s not. It’s a beautiful fantasy. All I can tell you is this, because I don’t remember everything and… some of it is still privileged information.”
Demetrio’s back teeth ground against each other. A beautiful fantasy. Shit.
“I’m a British fraud detective. Scotland Yard. Over a year ago, I was assigned to an undercover operation spanning three countries. I’ve been posing as a big-time drug and weapons dealer. You probably know there are lots of terror cells infiltrating Italy and Spain, and we finally got a lead on one of the biggest.”
Demetrio watched the guy swallow.
“Are you in pain?”
“Yeah.” Océano nodded. He fished into his pocket for a couple of his happy pills. Demetrio poured him a glass of Perrier. Océano’s hands shook as he downed the pills. “Christ, my feet feel like they’re on fire.”
“Sit.” Demetrio’s natural instincts were to nurture. He put a couple of the chairs down at a table and forced Océano to take a seat. He found a basin under the sink, ran some warm water into it, and dropped some Epsom salts into it. He brought it over to Océano, who put his feet into it after Demetrio removed his shoes, socks, and very grimy bandages.
“That feels better.” Océano kicked his feet in the warm water, relief flooding his face.
“I have a first aid kit upstairs. I think there are bandages in it, but first I want to hear what you have to tell me.”
Océano haltingly laid out his story. “Everything I’m about to say to you is in confidence, okay?”
“Okay.”
“My partner, Joshua… we had a cover. We were brothers with too much money. We were authorized to make small purchases of arms and drugs. We got some attention because people realized we had money and we were willing to spend it. Long story short, the guy who came in here tonight… he was there when Joshua died. He was the ringleader.”
Océano’s eyes teared up. “It was a mistake. A horrible, bloody cock-up. We were set up. Somehow they found out who we were. I keep remembering snatches of conversation. I know I got hit from behind on the back of the head. I remember saying, ‘There must be some mistake,’ but they knew. The bastards fucking knew.
“We thought the whole thing was laid out… we went to make a big purchase over in Majorca… we went in my boat… well, Philip Gordon’s boat. We met them in a cave; there’s a whole bunch of pirate caves. They’re saying I shot Joshua but I know it isn’t possible.”
“I don’t understand. You went to meet them and Joshua winds up dead, you wind up getting beaten, and—”
“Yes! They thought I was dead. I remember lying on the ground. They kicked me a couple of times. I played dead. Jesus, that was hard. I had no idea if Joshua was alive or dead, but I guess I knew, deep down, I knew he was gone. When they picked his body up and tossed him deep into a cave, I knew I was next. Fuck… they buried him. I couldn’t keep up the ruse and get buried alive. I crawled to my boat and I got into it. I think that’s when I hurt my feet. I tumbled over the edge. I remember it was high. I still don’t know how I got away. I hear the gunshot that killed him, you know. I hear it night and day. I hear Joshua begging for his life.”
“And you didn’t shoot him?”
“No. Of course I didn’t. But you’re going to hear a lot of crazy stories. I’m going to have to go on trial. They’ll say I went deep undercover and that I started believing my own bullshit. It’s total rubbish. Look, I wanted out. I wanted my fucking life back.”
“How did they get your credit card?”
“As soon as I saw it tonight, it came back to me. When we arrived at the meeting point, they stripped our money belts from us. I had a cell phone, a gun, some cash, and a couple of cards. Two were dummies; one was active. That’s the card he was using here tonight. You know I have to leave soon, don’t you?”
Demetrio was startled by the sudden question. He knew he should have started running a million miles away from this man. He should have strapped on his bionic bloody fins and started swimming to another island, another galaxy, even, but his ragged emotions wouldn’t let him.
“When?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe tomorrow.”
Demetrio nodded. “What do you want to do now?” He was amazed at how calm and assured he sounded, even to himself.
“Go home and sleep with you and pretend this is my life, that I get to sleep with you every night. That we close this place at absurd hours and go home and fuck like lunatics, falling asleep when the rest of the world is just waking up.”
Demetrio’s heart seemed to squeeze a little. He wanted to tell the guy to fuck off, that he was no fantasy. This was no fantasy. What they had was wonderful. It could be real.
“Can you handle it?”
Demetrio sucked in a breath. “I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything.”
“Oh fuck, sweetheart, don’t say that. We have… nothing. What we have is astonishing and, Christ, so painfully sweet, but it isn’t real. I’m not gay. I can’t be gay. I can’t involve you in this madness. These are very bad men, and I have to keep you as far away from this as I can. But for tonight I want to dream. And I want to believe in beautiful impossibilities. I want to believe in Eivissa.”
Demetrio absorbed the words, wanting to remember it all, to fight off the inevitable.
“Let me get you a towel and some fresh bandages.”
As he rummaged upstairs for what he needed, thoughts collided in his brain. His backbone had just become a wishbone. He knew he should shut the door on Océano, but he couldn’t. Just couldn’t. Downstairs he sat in front of him, lifting Océano’s feet onto his lap, drying them and rebandaging them. He tried to assemble his thoughts.
“You… were you ever involved with Joshua?”
“Fuck. What a question. No. But… since you ask, I loved him. I still don’t know what kind of love. I’m still struggling with losing him, with losing all the momentum we gained in this operation. He wanted it to happen, and we talked about it a couple of times. You get very close to a man when you’re living in such… difficult circumstances. He felt we had to give it a chance, but he usually said this after a few glasses of wine. But yes, there were feelings there.”
“But you believe you’re straight.”
“Oh no, I am straight. I have a ton of hot women in my past who will verify that.”
“So… where do I fit into the sexual scheme of things?”
“You’re my ultimate fantasy.”
Demetrio said nothing. This poor guy was sadly deluded. He was, at the least, deeply bisexual, but right now Océano had more on his plate than his sexual identity to deal with. He put Océano’s socks and shoes back on his feet.
“They feel fantastic. You did a better job than the nurse did at the hospital.” He leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you.”
They walked home together and showered, Demetrio not hesitating to soap the guy down with his best and most favorite Dolce & Gabbana body shampoo.
“I like the smell,” Océano said, his head tilted back as Demetrio ran his hands over Océano’s body. “It makes me think of freshly mown grass.”
“That’s what it is. I’d love for you to fuck me on freshly mown grass.”
Océano’s head snapped back and his eyes gleamed. “If there’s time before I leave, I will.”
He took the sponge from Demetrio’s hands, and as steam swirled around them, he soaped Demetrio’s front and started working on his shoulders.
“Turn around, Demetrio.”
He did as he was told. Océano started working on his back as the water ran in warm, wonderful rivulets to his ass. That wasn’t the only thing that went there. He was stunned when Océano’s fingers moved to his ass crack and he began soaping Demetrio with gentle squeezes of the sponge. When his warm breath hit Demetrio’s asshole, he held his breath.
Océano’s tongue flickered, timidly at first, then with increasing pressure against him. “Fuck. I gotta fuck you.”
Demetrio remained where he was and heard his lover getting out of the tub.
“There are some rubbers in the medicine cabinet,” he said.
He heard the mirrored door open and close, heard the tearing of a foil package, and held his breath again as Océano got back into the tub, crouched behind him, and resumed sucking and licking his ass.
When he finally stood, the water started turning cool, but Demetrio didn’t care. He planted his feet apart, keeping his hands on the tiled wall for support, and stuck his ass out to Océano, who gripped his hips and began poking his rigid cock at Demetrio’s waiting ass. With all the fucking they’d been doing, there was a small moment of sharp pain followed by an incredible feeling of peace. He’d never loved being fucked so much. In his life he normally topped, but this was something else. He gave himself up to the pleasure, delighting at the way Océano took hold of Demetrio’s cock and began stroking it, taking pride in making him come as well. He heard his lover’s balls slap against his ass and felt the slight pressure of them as Océano fucked him vigorously.
They came together hard, Demetrio’s grip on the wall loosening. He almost fell and found himself bent over, Océano letting out a cry as he got deeper access to Demetrio.
When it was over, they turned off the taps and dried one another, returning to the bed hand in hand, their cocks hard.
“Sorry to tell you,” Demetrio whispered as they reached for one another in the bed, “but I think you might just be a little bit gay.”
“Shut up,” Océano said, but he had a smile on his face.
Demetrio scooted down to lick and suck the man’s balls and cock, moving to his ass.
“Oh my God, I never had a woman do this to me.” Océano’s legs flew open as Demetrio made a determined path to his asshole. “Don’t think you can fuck me,” he said.
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Demetrio settled for stroking the man’s ass as he finally took possession of Océano’s cock with his mouth, bringing him to another rousing climax.
“Damn,” Océano said. “Fucking hot damn.”
They fell asleep in one another’s arms. When Demetrio awoke in the morning, he was surprised to see Océano lying beside him, his hand on Demetrio’s cock.
“I think you might be right,” Océano said. “I might be a little bit gay. I can’t do this, though, D. You are so good, so kind and so fucking hot… but I have to go. I have to go.”
“Christ. When?”
“Now.” His voice came out hoarsely as he let go of Demetrio’s cock. He had said he’d be leaving, but Demetrio wasn’t ready. But then again he never would be ready.
“Where are you going to go?”
“I don’t know. I have to go back to England. They’re sending someone to get me…. But I feel I have to leave you. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to confuse you.”
Christ…. Demetrio remembered what it was like dealing with guys in his past who were just coming out. They often had zigzagging emotions, and usually the morning after brought on tons of guilt, shame, and mindless angst.
“You don’t have to leave, you daft bugger. We’ll just knock off the sex. How about I buy you breakfast and we just hang out?”
Océano sat back on his heels on the bed and stared at him. “You… don’t mind?”
“No, I don’t mind.”
“I like you, Demetrio. I’d love to hang out.”
They showered together again, only this time they didn’t fuck. Demetrio wondered whether Océano would want to fuck him later in the day, and knew that he himself had to draw a line. They soaped each other’s backs and butts and finally coaxed each other out of the shower and dried off. Once they’d dressed, they left the house and wandered up the street.
“I get breakfast foods delivered,” he told Océano. “We can eat at the club.”
“Cool.”
They found the usual basket of baked goods waiting at the back door. Demetrio walked in, wondering if he should call Jeanine and check on her. He knew she could be prickly if he called her too early in the morning, but damn it, he was worried about her. He called and left her a voice mail message and also texted her. He called the police, leaving a message for one of the officers who’d come to the club earlier that morning.
As he brewed coffee, Océano opened the basket, admiring the contents. “You get this yummy stuff every day?” he asked, incredulous.
Yes, and it could be yours too. Demetrio simply smiled and poured out coffee. There was a knock at the back door.
Demetrio opened it, pleased to find Chenche and Stefan there. They came in with armfuls of fresh oranges and pink grapefruit they’d picked from somebody’s garden.
“My hubby likes to pinch fruit. He thinks it tastes better if you nick it from somebody else’s tree,” Stefan told Océano, who laughed.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Chenche grinned. “Forbidden fruit is sweetest, querido. Everybody knows that.”
Stefan laughed. “Of course it is. Very sweet.”
They turned on some music and sliced up the fruit, piling everything onto plates. They ate breakfast on the terrace. The two men got caught up on the little Océano was willing to tell them. Demetrio was surprised he told them quite a lot.
“I’m trusting you two. I have to leave soon, and I want you to look after Demetrio for me. Don’t let some wolf break his heart, okay?”
Chenche’s gaze seared right into Demetrio’s heart. The look of pity almost killed him.
“We’ll look after him,” Stefan said, “until you come back.”
Océano looked like he was going to protest, but then Chenche asked a question that seemed to derail him.
“Are you ever going to tell us your real name?”
“One day, but not now.” He looked flustered when he glanced at Demetrio. “We got any more coffee, sweetheart?”
Demetrio’s heart gave a lurch. Damn… he could get used to being this guy’s sweetheart. After a second pot, they debated what to do next and ended up racing down to the beach to skinny dip. Océano was fun and certainly enjoyed grabbing Demetrio’s cock every time a wave came.
“It’s our favorite game,” Stefan told him.
They sunbathed naked for a while, drying off nicely, though Océano’s bruises looked terrible in broad daylight. As people started crowding the beach, they threw on their clothes again. Océano gave up on his bandages, which were now dirty looking and covered in sand.
“I’ll be okay,” he said as they sauntered back up the hill.
They wandered from shop to shop, admiring the latest designer beach and club wear. Chenche grabbed Demetrio at one point and kissed his cheek.
“You are doing great,” he said before idling up to look at knock-off sunglasses at a barrow cart.
Demetrio had no idea what these mysterious words meant, but Océano was on his phone now, having what looked like a tense conversation. Demetrio checked his cell phone, which had been turned on, but he was anxious. There was still no word from Jeanine. They all walked to her apartment, knocked on her door, and left a note. She didn’t turn up to clean, so as Océano walked over to the Sands bar for lunch with Stefan and Chenche, Demetrio cleaned the place himself.
He was disgruntled Océano was off having fun, then forced a reminder on himself. We’re not a couple. He doesn’t want me. There are no strings attached.
His cell phone rang and he grabbed it. A long-distance call. It was Stella, his cousin John’s widow. Her voice sounded wonderful. She sounded cheery and mentioned she was going to Paris to take a cooking course.
“That’s fantastic,” he said enthusiastically. She rarely left England and had never accepted an invitation to visit him in Eivissa.
“I’ve been hearing about the fugitive in Ibiza,” she said. “I can’t believe that he had amnesia and now he’s recovered his memory and he’s some kind of crooked cop.”
“He’s nothing of the sort.” Demetrio couldn’t help being defensive. He couldn’t tell Stella what he knew. He’d promised Océano.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stella said, her voice instantly stern. “My wonderful husband, a man who never harmed anyone, vanished, and we couldn’t save him. He died alone—”
“Yes, I know.” Demetrio felt wretched.
“And this… this monster who shot his own partner… how does he get to live? I hear he was in Barcelona and Madrid, spending money like water… money that wasn’t his. He has a trail of devastated women behind him, but he survives. It’s wrong. Just wrong! He should be dead, not John!”
He couldn’t calm her down. He understood, and it was an unusual outburst for such a kind woman. Stella still grieved John. She would probably never get over him.
“Oh, Demetrio, you always were a sucker for a handsome face and a line of bull,” she said, hanging up on him. Their conversation shocked him. He knew that Stella still pined for her husband. Of course she did. But her rage at Océano was simply irrational. Life was like that. Goddamned bloody random. Blaming Océano for surviving was wrongheaded.
He thought about calling her back, but knew that no good could come of any discussion at the moment. He turned on the radio to listen to any news bulletins. Not a word about Océano or Jeanine. He was loading up the fridges with beer from the cellar when he heard someone shouting his name. He looked up from unpacking crates, surprised to see Charlie at the door.
“I heard the cops are still looking for Jeanine,” he said when Demetrio let him into the club.
“Where did you hear that?”
“I’ve got a mate on the force. Listen, I know you’re friendly with Océano or whatever the fuck his real name is, but just be careful, yeah?”
Demetrio felt a sense of indignity swelling within him, but didn’t give voice to it. Charlie was absolutely right, and he seemed to care.
“I will,” he said, taken aback when the man stepped behind the bar and started pulling out bottles to refrigerate. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Don’t be silly. You need help.” Charlie leaned over the crate. “We need anything else from the basement?”
“Two more crates, and thanks for the help.”
“What’s going on here?”
Both men straightened. Océano was on the other side of the bar, leaning over and watching them, a look of fury on his face.
“Loading up the fridge,” Demetrio said.
Charlie picked up the empties. “Just two crates from the basement?”
“Yes, thank you, Charlie.” The bartender gave him a smile and took off. Demetrio returned his gaze to Océano, who stared at him, a muscle working in his cheek. For a guy who wasn’t gay and didn’t want him, he sure was acting like a jealous jackass.
“We finished lunch. They’ve gone home for a siesta. I thought maybe you might feel like it… you know….”
Océano’s voice drifted off when Demetrio didn’t respond.
“You had lunch, but I didn’t. I need to eat; then I thought I’d take a drive around the island.”
Océano’s expression faltered. “Really? You want to do that?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. No siesta?”
“No siesta.”
Demetrio bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. The guy looked so disappointed. Yeah, Océano was definitely about as gay as Christmas, and twice as merry.
“Want to come with me?” he asked.
“Well… er… sure.”
They all went to collect Demetrio’s car from the mechanic and spent a fun afternoon driving around the northern part of the island, stopping to walk through the pine forest, which had become the focal point of local conservation. One section had been reserved to introduce olive trees into it, as a means of new revenue for the future. It sure smelled good, the mixture of olives and pine. “I had a small fantasy,” he told Océano when they returned his car to its parking spot, a garage he rented from an elderly couple.
“Oh, what kind of small fantasy?”
“That you stayed right here in Eivissa, and we rent a house up in the mountains, and you are nice and safe and nobody needs to know you’re here, and I keep going to work every day and we can just be together, and when you need to be in England to go on trial, I’d go with you.”
“That is a nice fantasy.” Océano’s face took on a closed expression as they walked to the club. “I have some calls to make.” He crossed the street, walking away from Demetrio. He didn’t come back.
Later, after he’d closed up the club, Demetrio wandered across the street to Sugar, but the place was too packed. Silver confetti fell from the ceiling. He remembered now, as strobe lights flashed and scantily clad men in silver bikini pants danced on pedestals high on the walls, that the club was celebrating the wedding of some visiting gay-porn stars who had married in Madrid and were honeymooning in Eivissa.
He caught Stefan’s eye. Stefan waved him over, handing him a glass of champagne.
“You’ve missed all the fun. We had a live sex show!”
Demetrio laughed. “And the police didn’t close you down?”
Stefan was wide-eyed. “No! They came, but it was all over by then. We raised a thousand euros. Half for Allister’s memorial, and the other half for the children’s hospital. You know Chenche loves to give them money.”
Demetrio knew it very well. At Christmas Stefan and Chenche had held a party at the hospital for all the children who were stuck in there for the holidays. He’d been dazzled by how kind and generous the couple was, and how much they genuinely enjoyed giving the children a day to remember.
“That’s fantastic,” Demetrio said. “You seen Océano?”
“The police took him away. I think they had questions. Maybe he’ll come back. Demetrio, please. Be careful. The man who came into your bar last night… he’s very dangerous. He’s been all over the news. He’s some kind of hit man.”
“Oh my God, and he’s got Jeanine.”
Stefan checked his cell phone. “Let’s hope not. He’s got a trail of dead bodies behind him. Just protect yourself, okay?”
Demetrio nodded. He went home but found he couldn’t sleep. He had a stack of books on his nightstand, but the words swam on the pages of each one he tried. At first light he drifted to sleep, finally, but a sound awakened him. Sighing, he got out of bed, went into the bathroom to pee, and came back out.
“You know,” a voice said from behind him, “you really do look better naked.”
Demetrio’s shock at another presence in his room was quickly replaced by his joy at hearing Océano’s voice. He turned and hurled himself into the other man’s arms.
Océano looked terrible.
“They interrogated me for hours,” he said. “I fucking hate my life right now.” He furrowed his brows. “Except for this very moment.”
A car horn honked. “I have to go. I told them I was picking up my things. Demetrio, don’t come out. I don’t want to look at you when I leave you. I don’t want them to guess what we feel for each other. Fuck… I don’t want to walk away from you.”
“Then don’t. Take me with you.”
Océano kissed him. It was such a passionate kiss it left them both shaking. “It’s another beautiful fantasy. I hope one day I get to see your face again. Forget about me, D. I can only bring you pain.”
“No. I love you.”
“Fuck! Don’t love me.”
“Sorry, but I do.”
“Forget me. I’m sorry. I’m not the one for you.”
The car horn honked again, and Océano picked up the plastic bag from the hospital with his few meager possessions. And with that he was gone.
Demetrio sat on the bed for a long time, cursing himself for telling the man he loved him.
What made me do it? Why? What the fuck was I thinking?