Don't Be A Bad Boy
Chapter Six
6 - A MEETING
Greg walked out of the building and into the glaring light of the
morning sun beating mercilessly down on the front of the building. He shut his eyes,
covered them with a hand while the other fumbled for his sunglasses. When his eyesight
cleared, he headed to his vehicle. After another long night of processing sample after
sample and deciphering the results, his brain felt like mud on a hot day, unable to form
or keep a complete thought. His coffee stash had dwindled quickly over the past few days
and was completely gone by now. And his need for coffee was the only thought paramount in
his head at the moment. He knew he had some at home but the thought of going home was not
appealing, even if it meant superior coffee. What he wanted was company, people around him
to remind him that he was still human. The coffee shop. Bland coffee, but there was bound
to be people picking up their morning coffee and bagel on their way into work.
He pulled into the shop a while later. He was right, the coffee was
bland and no amount of cream or sugar could liven the dead taste. But he drank it anyway,
wincing as the acrid taste burned its way down his throat. Within seconds he could feel
himself beginning to vibrate again with the caffeine in his system. For all the lack of
taste, it certainly had its fair share of caffeine, he thought, with a cynical grin.
A man took the stool next to him and ordered a coffee. The proximity
unnerved Greg for a moment. As much as he desired to be around people, having them this
close was not something he really wanted at the moment. And considering there were many
other stools around that were unoccupied, the fact that the man chose that particular
stool stood out as a marker in Greg's mind. The man was just too close for comfort.
"P-pass the sugar," he heard the man say in a soft voice.
He reached over and brought the sugar container across him to the man.
"Thanks,"
"No problem," Greg muttered, hoping his lack of friendly
overtures would make the man leave. Not so. The man began to speak to him.
"C-come h-here often?" he said.
Greg's head came up sharply. "Uh, no. First time
actually." Greg's internal sensor came to life. A come on? He thought. This
early in the morning? He sighed and stared down at his coffee, praying the man would just
leave.
"I-I-I like this place. It's s-s-small and c-cozy," the
man was saying.
"Mmm."
"My name's C-Carl," and a hand came into Greg's
vision. A rather small hand with long fingers and well manicured nails.
It shook only slightly and Greg could only surmise the man was nervous.
He looked from the hand to the man's face. It wasn't a face that would
stand out in a crowd with its dull blue eyes and smooth skin. The dark brown hair, longer
than normal, hung limply on the head. It was a young face, full of hope and yet Greg could
see just a hint of something not quite right. His brown cotton jacket bore the signs
of many years' wear and his pants, though maybe clean, had obviously seen many a day.
Maybe this man hadn't learned the fine art of picking up people, Greg thought. He
decided to be nice and shook the man's hand, introducing himself. It was a light
grip, not at all strong, but feeble and meek. His fingers grabbing Greg's hands as
though it were fine bone china. No strength at all. And they were clammy. Definitely
nervous, Greg thought returning to his coffee.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man's hand wrap around
his coffee cup and turn it this way and that in his hands before taking a sip. The
man's constant movement reminded Greg of his own manic motions at work.
"So, uh, wh-what do you do?" Carl asked.
Greg suppressed the urge to sigh and instead took a deep breath.
"I'm a scientist."
Carl's movements stilled. "Oh." He said nothing more but
his hands returned to twisting the cup. "Wh-what kind of s-s-scientist?"
"Forensics."
"Wh-what's f-f-forensics?"
"I analyze the data from crime scenes." Greg offered.
"Oh," Carl said, but Greg could hear that he had no idea what
he'd just said.
"I take the information and put it through a machine that helps me
to know what it is, or who it is," he tried for a simpler approach.
"Oh," and this time it sounded like he understood it better.
"Th-that s-sounds really i-i-i-interesting."
"I like it," Greg volunteered.
"Th-that's good. A m-man ought to l-like what he d-d-does for
a l-living."
Greg looked up at the man. He was smiling down at Greg with a dazed
look in his eyes. A look Greg had seen many times on people's faces when they
Greg groaned inwardly when he realized exactly what was happening. He put on as good a
fake smile as he could muster and showed it to Carl. "I work night shift and I'm
really tired. I need to get home. Bye," he said and slid off the stool and headed for
the door. Behind him he heard the sound of the man sliding off his own stool and following
him. He tried to hurry but the man caught up with him and walked along beside him.
"M-maybe I can m-make you s-something for b-b-breakfast?"
Greg stopped and turned to stare at the man. "Listen, mister
–"
"- Carl."
" –Carl. I don't even know you. I just want to get home
and get some sleep. It's been a long night and long week."
Carl's face fell at that. He looked down at his twisted hands.
"Um, o-okay. S-sorry."
Greg sighed. His good nature just couldn't let him leave like that.
"Listen, Carl. I know what you're trying to do –"
"You do?" Carl asked, his voice rising and his growing big.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you, I just
don't swing that way, okay?"
Carl looked from Greg to the ground and back to Greg. He swallowed.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine. Understandable. I have to go now." Greg
turned and continued to his car.
Then he heard Carl's voice again. "You work for the
police?"
Greg stopped. Was that an edge in the man's voice? He sighed and
turned around. "Yes. I work for the police, Carl. Goodbye."
Carl waved a hand about in the air, smiled and said goodbye.
He watched Greg leave, feeling much better after this meeting than that last
one, where Greg didn't even acknowledge him. What an odd coincidence, he thought,
that Greg should work for the very people Carl despised. Who knew he'd see that young
man again, and so soon? It must be luck on his side, thought Carl. His mind began
conjuring up images of possibilities: meeting him again, inviting him home, sharing a meal
with him, getting cozy on his couch It was all so tantalizing! The thrill of the
chase, not to have someone so easy as Marcus had been. What a slut, he thought, grinning
widely.
That familiar feeling was starting again in the pit of his stomach. It
began slowly and grew in waves to spread through his entire body, like wild fire in a
windless day. And then it concentrated in his loins and made them throb in time with his
heart. It was a odd feeling, not wholly uncomfortable, but not one he completely enjoyed
either. He shifted and twisted in his pants, trying to adjust himself without appearing as
though he were and then turned around and headed home. His jaunt for the day had been
successful, even if the intention had never been to find anyone, let alone him. It
had only been for a morning walk, considering his head felt less heavy than usual.
~*~
Copyright © 2003 Anansay
