P'town Murders: A Bradford Fairfax Murder Mystery by Jeffrey Round Page A
Authors: Jeffrey Round
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thought. Research be damned!
"Hi," he said, the beginning of an erection tenting his shorts. "I noticed you staring at me from up here." There was no response from the seated figure. Brad suddenly felt awkward, aware that he was now the one staring. "I like your... tattoo."
"You're bleeding," the young man said.
That's certainly an original opener, thought Brad. He looked down. Sure enough, his calves and shins were smeared with blood where he'd been scratched by the thorns.
"Wow, I didn't notice. Thanks."
"No problem."
"So what brings you to these parts?" Brad ventured, extending a hand.
The head lifted till he could see the boy's face. An aquamarine eye caught his own. "Hello, Bradford."
Brad felt his erection subside. "Ah, hi..."
"It's Zach," he said. "I guess you've forgotten."
"Uh, sorry, I..."
"Never phoned back?"
Brad felt anger surge where a moment before there'd been only simple straightforward lust.
"You told me you had a boyfriend!"
"I told you I was leaving him."
"You weren't fast enough."
"I dropped him the next day."
"Too late!"
Zach continued looking up at him. "You don't have much patience, do you?"
"I don't go in for serial monogamists."
Zach sighed. "I fell in love with you. What do you want me to do?"
Brad stepped back. "Nothing. Don't do anything. Just... stop following me."
Zach's face darkened. "Just because you fucked me once and I said it was the best thing that ever happened to me doesn't mean I'm following you. I come to Provincetown every year at precisely this time, so get over yourself like I get over myself every time I think about you."
"Whoa! Slow down there, little buckaroo. I'm sorry for accusing you of following me. I'm sorry we ever met, in fact. Though if you recall, that was your doing. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch date."
With that he turned and marched along the dunes toward town, getting stuck in the marsh once before looking back to see that Zach was no longer watching.
8
The morning progressed into a languid afternoon. Brad forgot about the unpleasant encounter with Zach. In town, boys in shorts and T-shirts walked hand-in-hand along the streets. As he passed one attractive couple, Brad unconsciously squared his shoulders and thrust out his chest. The shorter one turned to whistle at him. Brad looked back in time to see the boy being dragged off by his boyfriend.
He stopped for lunch on Commercial Street. In a waterfront cafe, he found himself eye-to-eye with a mesmerizing gaze. A charismatic man with a shaved head gazed at him from a poster. Brad recalled his father's earliest bit of advice: Always stop to enjoy a beautiful view.
The face was arresting: from the distinguished brow and memorable cheekbones, to the full lips and hypnotic eyes that burned holes in the casual onlooker. He could have been the love child of Jackie Chan and Vin Diesel.
According to the poster, the man was a visiting Tibetan dignitary closely associated with the Dalai Lama. Brad smiled and thought of Ross's rather sudden conversion. Obviously, there was something to Buddhism after all!
After lunch, the first stop on Brad's itinerary was Purgatory, the downstairs bar at the famed Gifford House. With any luck he might uncover something useful about Perry, the former employee who Cinder claimed had left the Not-So-OK Corral after an argument with Ross. Sometimes a bit of smoldering rivalry was all it took to spark a jealous rage that could end in murder. It happened all the time between husbands and wives. It might occur just as easily between two hot men flirting with the same boss.
The Gifford House bristled with sex appeal as Brad approached. A circuit party crowd lingered on the outside deck, hanging over the railing to watch new arrivals coming up the hill. Brad marveled at the homing instinct that brought so many delightful, provocative men to places like this. Like him, they'd all ventured a long way to reach this end-of-the-line seaside
"Hi," he said, the beginning of an erection tenting his shorts. "I noticed you staring at me from up here." There was no response from the seated figure. Brad suddenly felt awkward, aware that he was now the one staring. "I like your... tattoo."
"You're bleeding," the young man said.
That's certainly an original opener, thought Brad. He looked down. Sure enough, his calves and shins were smeared with blood where he'd been scratched by the thorns.
"Wow, I didn't notice. Thanks."
"No problem."
"So what brings you to these parts?" Brad ventured, extending a hand.
The head lifted till he could see the boy's face. An aquamarine eye caught his own. "Hello, Bradford."
Brad felt his erection subside. "Ah, hi..."
"It's Zach," he said. "I guess you've forgotten."
"Uh, sorry, I..."
"Never phoned back?"
Brad felt anger surge where a moment before there'd been only simple straightforward lust.
"You told me you had a boyfriend!"
"I told you I was leaving him."
"You weren't fast enough."
"I dropped him the next day."
"Too late!"
Zach continued looking up at him. "You don't have much patience, do you?"
"I don't go in for serial monogamists."
Zach sighed. "I fell in love with you. What do you want me to do?"
Brad stepped back. "Nothing. Don't do anything. Just... stop following me."
Zach's face darkened. "Just because you fucked me once and I said it was the best thing that ever happened to me doesn't mean I'm following you. I come to Provincetown every year at precisely this time, so get over yourself like I get over myself every time I think about you."
"Whoa! Slow down there, little buckaroo. I'm sorry for accusing you of following me. I'm sorry we ever met, in fact. Though if you recall, that was your doing. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch date."
With that he turned and marched along the dunes toward town, getting stuck in the marsh once before looking back to see that Zach was no longer watching.
8
The morning progressed into a languid afternoon. Brad forgot about the unpleasant encounter with Zach. In town, boys in shorts and T-shirts walked hand-in-hand along the streets. As he passed one attractive couple, Brad unconsciously squared his shoulders and thrust out his chest. The shorter one turned to whistle at him. Brad looked back in time to see the boy being dragged off by his boyfriend.
He stopped for lunch on Commercial Street. In a waterfront cafe, he found himself eye-to-eye with a mesmerizing gaze. A charismatic man with a shaved head gazed at him from a poster. Brad recalled his father's earliest bit of advice: Always stop to enjoy a beautiful view.
The face was arresting: from the distinguished brow and memorable cheekbones, to the full lips and hypnotic eyes that burned holes in the casual onlooker. He could have been the love child of Jackie Chan and Vin Diesel.
According to the poster, the man was a visiting Tibetan dignitary closely associated with the Dalai Lama. Brad smiled and thought of Ross's rather sudden conversion. Obviously, there was something to Buddhism after all!
After lunch, the first stop on Brad's itinerary was Purgatory, the downstairs bar at the famed Gifford House. With any luck he might uncover something useful about Perry, the former employee who Cinder claimed had left the Not-So-OK Corral after an argument with Ross. Sometimes a bit of smoldering rivalry was all it took to spark a jealous rage that could end in murder. It happened all the time between husbands and wives. It might occur just as easily between two hot men flirting with the same boss.
The Gifford House bristled with sex appeal as Brad approached. A circuit party crowd lingered on the outside deck, hanging over the railing to watch new arrivals coming up the hill. Brad marveled at the homing instinct that brought so many delightful, provocative men to places like this. Like him, they'd all ventured a long way to reach this end-of-the-line seaside
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