CHAPTER 4

David and Ruth were leaving Sam's Club with enough supplies to fill a small hangar: gallons of hand sanitizer, crates of Kleenex, miles of toilet paper, bags upon bags of peppermint candy …

He suddenly stopped.

"We forgot the hand lotion," he groaned.

"What was that?" his mother asked.

"We forgot the hand lotion," he repeated. He turned to her. "Do you think we really need any?"

"I don't know," Ruth said. "It seems that every time we come here we buy more and more. I swear, there must be a dermatologist operating out of the basement."

While contemplating whether to go back for the lotion or just let it go, David saw something—or someone—in the corner of his eye.

It was Keith.

And he was looking at David.

He was walking towards David.

He was waving at David.

After registering what was happening, David bolted.

"I'll… I'm going… I'll be right back Mom," he said and rushed off.

"Fine. I'll just have to load all these groceries in the car by myself then," she moaned, but David didn't hear her.

"Heading out?" Keith said once David had gotten closer.

David pushed the lump in his throat down. "Yeah. I'm… leaving."

Keith nodded. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah," David said. He tried to keep his eyes trained on Keith's face and not on his sexy police uniform. "You working?"

"Yeah," Keith said. He nodded back towards his police car. There was someone inside.

"…Nice," David said.

"Yeah. Anyway, the other day… I didn't get your number," Keith explained. David didn't say anything. "We got interrupted."

"Yeah," David said. "I just… I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Keith looked… confused.

"Why not?"

"You know," David answered calmly, but inside—he was getting angry. Why wouldn't Keith just leave him alone?

"No, I really don't," Keith said.

"You know, your partner might… he might not like it."

Keith was growing more perplexed by the moment. "Who?"

"I dunno," David shrugged. "The guy in the silver boots."

Keith was lost in thought a moment. He looked behind him in the direction from where he'd just come and emerged with a realization. "You think Jay is my boyfriend."

Is that what Sean's friend had said?

"If Jay was wearing silver boots, then… yeah. I mean, that's what someone told me," David answered.

A smirk crossed Keith's face. "So you asked about me?"

David registered a look of panic. "No, no… It just… came up."

Keith nodded. "Jay is my partner at work. We ride around in the same car."

That… that made a lot of sense. David felt simultaneously relieved and idiotic.

"Of course," he sighed.

"Look, David," Keith said. "I really enjoyed our conversation at the picnic. I thought maybe we could do it again. That's all. If you don't want to, my feelings won't be hurt."

"No," David replied eagerly. "I would love to. I really would. You have no idea. You can totally have my number." He cringed at how desperate he sounded.

"Great then," Keith said. Beat. "So what is it?"

"Right. 323-555-1689." Keith punched in the numbers. Then, he placed a hand on David's shoulder.

"I'll be seeing you," he said, and walked off before David could even respond.

The giddiness that had died unceremoniously at the picnic was back in full force. He ran back to the car and tried to suppress the grin that was taking over his face as he hopped into the driver's seat.

"Where is the lotion?" Ruth asked.

David turned on the ignition. "They were out," he said and pulled off.

David, who had made a living out of listening to people, was finding it difficult to make a distinction between the words coming out of Keith's mouth and Keith's actual mouth. Which was just as well, as Keith was turning out to be a man of few words.

After coolly perusing the menu, David had kept it light with a Greek salad. His digestion was not reliable under such circumstances. Keith, for his part, had decided on lamb kibbeh with an order of the much ballyhooed tabouli.

In the meantime, he told David a little about his niece Taylor. She liked Bratz dolls, and he was planning on getting her some for Christmas. His face lit up when he talked about her. It was endearing.

"Yeah," David said after he was done. "My sister used to be like that. Cute and adorable. Red hair with rosy little cheeks."

"And now?" Keith asked.

"Now…," David began, searching for the words, "Claire's in a weird place. I think she mostly wants to be left alone."'

Keith didn't seem to understand.

"She's 16," David explained. "She's in a phase."

Keith nodded.

"Yeah, well, my niece is no only eight and can be a handful too. She, um—" He stopped abruptly.

David filled in the silence. "You… must have siblings, to have a niece."

"Yeah," Keith said. "One sister. And you? Just the one sister?"

"No. I have an older brother, Nate. He works in some organic food co-op slash hippie commune in Seattle."

Keith took a sip of his wine. "So I take it you all aren't close."

David hedged on that point. "We have a way of… orbiting each other. It works for us."

Keith just nodded.

"Family is a weird dynamic," he said after some reflection. "I love my sister and parents, but… only in small doses. They'll fucking drive you crazy if you let 'em."

"Won't they?" David wholeheartedly agreed. It was the most refreshing statement of truth he'd heard all day.

"And being gay…" Keith continued. It was the first time he had explicitly said it. It felt… significant. "In a way it really changed my relationship with my parents. I feel like it finally made them recognize me as a man for the first time."

At that moment, their food arrived. They sat, silently eating, for several minutes.

"So," Keith said suddenly. "What's your coming out story?"

David was… flummoxed. Even more so for not having seen the question coming. Was that a normal thing to ask someone you just met?

He was prepared to construct some story on the fly, about devout parents who had been upset and disowned him. Then it crossed his mind that maybe he should go the supportive route, and boast of parents who loved him unconditionally. But, then… he got lost in some of the details. Should he have an aloof father and doting mother, or vice versa? When had he come out? Had they met his boyfriend? How had his siblings responded?

Of course, there was always the truth. That he was only out to a handful of guys (that he'd had casual sex with), his ex-fiancée and one childhood friend. That his father's relationship was a complex enough as it was, and yet David still craved his approval. That his mother was certifiably insane half the time, and telling her would be more exhausting than anything. That sometimes he hated himself, and was still wrestling with the idea of going to Hell.

The truth was… his life was a lie.

Which wasn't much of a story. He sought refuge in his salad.

"Um, I guess it was kind of…" he stammered, rifling through feta cheese and kalamata olives. "My parents just kind of went with it. I mean, I could tell they weren't that thrilled. But, they came around to it, sort of. Mostly since we work together at the funeral home." He looked up tentatively at Keith to see if the story was working, but Keith's face didn't reveal much of anything. "Typical story I guess."

After a moment of awkward silence, Keith turned around, looking for the waiter. "Think they'll bring us some more bread?" he asked. He motioned for the waiter.

"They should," David said, fighting to regain composure… to dare enjoy this. "You would think you could in a place that has bread in the title."

Keith chuckled at that. David liked seeing him smile. In the little time he knew Keith, David had already noticed that they didn't smile that often. When he made Keith smile, he felt special, like he had a secret super power.

"Something in the way you just said that now reminded me of an episode of Oz," Keith remarked. "I don't ever know if you've ever seen it, but—"

"Every episode," David said. And there went that smile again. "Best show ever."

"Isn't it?" Keith said.

"It's so dark, but then sometimes kind of perversely…"

"Hysterical?" Keith answered.

"Yeah," David agreed, already laughing at a memory he's about to relate. "Remember that episode where Beecher wanted to move to another cell? Tim was like, 'All the other cells are full.' So Beecher says, 'Then move me to another prison' and—"

Keith jumped in, "Yeah, Tim says 'Do I look like a travel agent to you?" Both men busted out laughing. "Nuts," Keith added.

"So?" David asks. Keith didn't catch his drift.

"So… what?"

"Beecher and Keller," David announced with some panache. Keith sighed.

"Jesus, what is that?"

"I know," David said, and dropped his head.

"That's some fucked up shit, that's what it is," Keith concluded.

"It is, it is," David replied, trying to agree, "but there is a connection there."

Keith snorted. "There's definitely a connection."

"I don't mean like that," David said. "I mean… yeah, Keller is a psychopath and manipulating and murderous and all, but…"

Keith looked at him with bemusement. "There's a 'but' after that?"

"But," David continued, "Beecher is under his skin. Keller's sleeping with other people just because he can't handle being rejected by Beecher. It's like, there a little bit of a tender heart beating in there somewhere." He shook his head. "Dammit if I'm not rooting for that couple."

Keith didn't say anything for several moments, and then busted out laughing.

"What?" David said, laughing too.

"You," Keith said. "You're a romantic aren't you?"

David turned away, a little embarrassed. But he couldn't stop smiling.

"You know what David," Keith said. "I needed this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah I did. Something that doesn't involve guns and high-speed chases."

David's heart fluttered a little.

The two men continued in conversation effortlessly, bouncing around on every topic from California real estate tax law to the way toothpaste clumps up under around the opening of the tube.

The went Dutch on the bill (David insisted) and walked outside into a hot LA night. It was already dark by the time the time they reached the parking lot, standing between their cars parked nobly next to each other.

"So, how was it?" Keith asked out of the blue.

"The food?" David asked. "Good as always."

"I'm not talking about the food," Keith asked. "I'm talking about our first date."

The words caught David off guard.

"That was a date, wasn't it?" Keith asked, but it didn't sound like a question.

"Yeah, I guess it was," David said, a smile inching around his face. He nodded. "It was great. Even better than the food."

"Good," Keith said, noticeably omitting his own opinion.

"What did you think?" David ventured to ask.

Keith bit the inside of his check and then, almost imperceptibly, descended upon David's mouth. Keith's lips lingered there, full and electrifying and certain, and David — paralyzed with astonishment and faint with desire — was surprised to find his hands rising to Keith's face and his own lips pressing urgently against Keith's.

And then Keith pulled away. He casually dragged a thumb across his damp mouth.

"I'll be calling you David," he said, and walked around to the driver's side of his truck before pulling off.

David's quaking hands could barely put the key in the ignition as he fumbled to start his car.

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