Hot Lava (8 page)

“Pull around the corner, Liko. Out of sight of the cameras. I’m just going to take a quick look. No more than a few minutes. Keep the engine running,” Will told him.

Liko did as he was asked, not saying a word to us. More than likely, he was just as eager to get the hell out of there as we were.

“Be careful,” I told Will as he hopped out.

He turned and smiled at me. “Don’t worry, I will be.”

He was only gone for five minutes. Which is all it took to rile the hornet’s nest. He came running back, slamming the door behind him and yelling for Liko to take off. Fast.

“What happened?” I shouted. “Did you see Jed?”

“Not Jed, no. But five big Hawaiian guys seemed to be expecting me. As soon as I neared the back fence, they came running out, big-ass guns aimed my way.”

“Fuck,” I cursed.

“Fuck is right,” he agreed. “And they sure as hell looked like bodyguards to me.”

We all sat there, our heads turned, looking behind us. Thankfully, we weren’t being followed.

“I don’t get it,” Koni eventually said.

“What?” I asked.

“Well,” he continued, “if Lenny was as innocent as we think he was, then why was he dating a pimp with a posse like that? Trust me, only guilty people hang out with men like Jed.”

“Good point,” I said.

“Unless he was as stupid as everyone seems to think,” Brandon added.

“He’d have to be,” I concurred. “Unless love really is that blind.”

“Or he wasn’t dating Jed, as everyone says he was. After all, the mom only knew about this mystery Hawaiian guy,” Will suggested.

“Which also doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “In any case, I say we start looking for boyfriend number two, because number one is apparently way too dangerous. Maybe this unknown guy can shed some light on this darkening mess.”

“And where do we look?” Brandon asked.

“Ah, now that one may be the easiest question yet,” I replied. “Coworkers. Gay coworkers. Gay coworkers who like booze and cheap, attractive men.”

“Ah,” Brandon repeated. “Which is where I step into the picture.”

“
Swish
in, but yes,” I told him. “If anyone can pry information out of flight attendant, it’s definitely you, my dear.”

He smiled, clearly pleased with this bit of semi-flattery. “And I won’t need to be in drag for that.”

“Not for that, no,” I said, with a frown.

“What does that mean?” he asked, echoing my frown with one of his own.

“Wait,” I said. “I’ll tell you in a few minutes.”

“While we’re in the gift store?” he asked.

“Safer than that,” I replied. “The middle of the maze.”

***

The Pineapple Garden Maze, the
Guinness Book
record holder that covers an area of three acres, was set off to the right side of the plantation. To say it was huge, not to mention daunting, was putting it mildly -- and trying to get Brandon to agree to run through it was doubly so. Quadruply. (Wait, is that even a word? Fuck it, it is now.)

“There’s a bar in the center,” I tried. “With fruity libations for the weary maze runner.”

“Weary lab rat is more like it,” he corrected, arms akimbo. “Plus, you’re lying. I can tell.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Because, if such was the case, you’d already be in there guzzling.”

Which was true. “Fine,” I relented. “How about, your life will be in danger if we don’t get some privacy in about five friggin’ minutes, asshole.”

He was off and running in no time flat.

The point of the maze was to find small, phone-booth type stands that you ticked off on a maze card when you found them. Seeing as that wasn’t really our goal, we blatantly ignored the rules of the game and headed for dead center. In other words, we cheated. Thankfully, the shrubs weren’t all that thick. Or prickly. (Too bad the same couldn’t be said about us.)

“Was all this really necessary?” Brandon whined, the others echoing his sentiment. “It’s a hundred fucking degrees out here, no shade, no bar, no fruity libations, not even a cute guy in a chest-revealing tank top. In other words, not my idea of fun.”

I shrugged. “Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I started to go backward, um, forward, um, well, in reverse. Hell, it was a fucking maze, and it
was
a hundred fucking degrees, so, needless to say, I was all turned around. In any case, I was summarily stopped. “Just tell us why we’re here, Chase,” said Will, the lone voice of reason.

“The limo, it’s not safe,” I replied.

“Bad tires? Leaky transmission? What?” Brandon fired out.

“Bad driver, leaky-brained best friend, that’s what,” I told him.

“It’s too hot for this, Chase. Stop with the word play and get on with it. Or no gift shop for you,” said my so-called best friend threateningly.

I nodded, afraid that he was serious. “Four things aren’t sitting right with me,” I began. “One, how did those guards back there know you were about to walk up to the house, Will?”

“Cameras?” he guessed.

“Maybe,” I said. “Or perhaps they were tipped off.”

“Fuck,” Brandon swore. “By Liko?”

I nodded. “Who also didn’t want to take us to either the Hallanah abode or that awful other house. That’s number two.”

“Which he had good reasons for,” Koni piped in with.

“True, but there’s number three, which has been sitting in my craw for the last two days now,” I said, three fingers now waving in the air.

“What’s a craw?” Koni asked. “That like popcorn getting stuck in your teeth?”

I ignored him. “Three,” I continued. “Didn’t you think it strange that Liko stopped to pick up a man with another man chained to his wrist? If it was me, I’d have locked the doors and rolled the windows up.” We’d told Koni this part of the story, still leaving Will out of the equation.

“Meaning?” Will asked.

“Meaning, maybe he knew Lenny already. Maybe he wanted to make sure Lenny wasn’t telling us anything of importance.”

“Which he didn’t,” Brandon reminded us.

“Maybe, maybe not,” I amended. “He kept proclaiming his innocence. But perhaps that wasn’t directed toward us. The intercom was on, after all. Maybe Lenny wanted Liko to know that he was innocent. He did, in fact, repeat the statement enough times.”

“And four?” Brandon asked, his head hung low, resigned to the fate of my long-windedness. And the absence of a nearby bar.

“Four, and the worst of them all: when Lenny escaped from the police, where exactly did he run to? He couldn’t hide on the beach.”

“Fuck,” Brandon reiterated. “Our hotel is right next to the substation. Liko probably went back inside after he dropped us off. He’d be easy enough to find if you knew where to look.”

“And if Lenny knew him already,” I added, “he’d have found him right quick.”

“Uh oh,” Koni uh-ohed, figuring out where I was going with all this.

“Uh oh is right,” I said. “And then Lenny turns up just off our beach. Maybe he ran to Liko for shelter and ended up as fish food.”

“Or,” Brandon said, sinking to the ground, “maybe that last brain cell of yours is finally flickering off and you’re just a raving lunatic.”

“I’m explaining, not raving,” I informed him.

“Fine,” he informed me back. “An explaining lunatic.”

“But it does all make sense, right?” I asked, a smug grin forming on my sweat-soaked face.

The three of them ruefully nodded, finally accepting my utter genius. (And all accomplished, as Brandon so eloquently put it, with just one remaining brain cell. Ta da!)

Will spoke up first. “I, um, have a friend on the force out here. College buddy. I’ll see if there’s anything he can find on Liko when we get back. And then tell him to check out that house back there, where the police will hopefully find Jed.” If Koni suspected anything, he didn’t let on. Still, we’d have to tell him about Will soon enough and pray he didn’t get scared and run off.

“And if nothing turns up on our limo driver back there?” I asked, tilting my head to the right. Then to the left. Then to the right again. (See, I told you I was all turned the hell around.)

“Oh, no,” Brandon lamented, not waiting for a reply, but sensing where I was going with the question.

“Do you have a better idea?” I asked.

“Plenty. And they all start and end with a good stiff drink.”

“Um,” Koni interrupted, unaccustomed to our good-natured (?) bickering, “would you two let us two in on this conversation? Or would you like a nice Hawaiian punch instead?”

“What this idiot is getting at, or not getting at quickly enough for everybody’s liking, is that he intends for the two of us to go undercover,” Brandon explained, now lying down on the grass, clearly exhausted.

“As what?” Koni asked. “Japanese tourists that need a limo ride?”

“Oh, to be so lucky,” came Brandon’s response. “Koni,” he said, “you’re about to meet Judy and Liza.”

“Who are they?” he asked.

“They are us,” I replied, smiling at my ingenuity.

“Fuck,” Will interjected, stealing Brandon’s usual line.

“If we’re lucky,” Brandon said. “Which doesn’t seem the case right about now.”

I sat on the ground and stroked his hair. “May I remind you, we didn’t pack for Judy and Liza, dear Brandon.”

He bolted straight up. “Oh,” he fairly moaned. “Shopping. Lots of shopping.” A trickle of drool formed at the corner of his upturned mouth.

“Lots and lots,” I agreed, helping him to his feet.

“But that’s too dangerous,” Will told us.

“Not if we warn the stores that we’re coming,” I replied, trying to figure out which way to go to get the fuck out of there. (Maybe the maze wasn’t such a good idea after all. I mean, if they found our dead bodies in there, then my plan wouldn’t have done us very much good.)

“No,” Will said, clearly exasperated. “I mean, too dangerous to go undercover like that. Especially if you’re correct about all this.”

“Oh, come on now, what can go wrong?” I commented, moving in circles and generally not getting anywhere.

The three of them groaned and started to walk through the bushes and out to safety.

Yes, a lot could go wrong.

And, naturally, a lot did.

Again, go figure.

Chapter 4

Sarongs Bought (Yes, Seriously)

So we had a plan. Well, plans. Were they good plans, well-thought-out plans, safe plans? Oh, hell no. Did we get to go shopping, get laid, get drunk (get laid again)? Well, of course. As I said, we had a plan, and, generally speaking, our plans always include these things. Like, duh? More importantly, though, did we accomplish anything?

Ah, now there in lies the crux. (Strange word
crux
. Synonyms: nitty-gritty, core, bottom. Bottom is better. But I digress. Again.) In any case, yes, we accomplished certain things, garnered new bits of information. Did anyone get hurt in the process? Injured, maimed, murdered? Come on, now, look who we’re talking about here.

Yes, murder and mayhem ensued. It bears repeating -- like, duh.

So let’s backtrack. Here’s what went down. Or who went down, as was the case.

Will, as promised, upon our return searched the local police records for anything he could find on Liko. Not surprisingly, as life is never that easy, our driver came up squeaky clean. To make matters worse, when the cops went back to the house that was purportedly Jed’s, it was quite empty. Not even a lowly fingerprint remained. Nor was it in his name, and the owner couldn’t readily be tracked down.

So, back to square one.

Since we no longer had a fix on Jed, we needed to find this supposed other boyfriend. Plus, we needed to figure out limo-driving Liko’s connection to Lenny. Perhaps any and all information we uncovered would point to Lenny’s killer or maybe even to his innocence.

“Let’s start with the flight attendants,” Brandon suggested the next morning when we awoke, again, in the same bed. No, Koni didn’t go back to his mattress. Nor did he ask to stay on. For the time being, he was just our live-in guide, no questions asked. Thankfully. We had enough questions to go around -- and around -- without having to worry about any more.

“Agreed,” I said. “Start with the point of least resistance.”

“And,” he added, “the most likely place to get laid.”

“Goes without saying.”

“But let’s not go without saying it.”

So he donned his tightest, skimpiest ensemble, plus a dandy cap and wrap-around shades in order to remain as incognito as possible -- I stuck with a baseball cap and cheap sunglasses -- and we headed back to the airport. Will stayed with Koni on the beach, keeping both of them, hopefully, out of trouble.

Aloha Airlines, before it went out of business, and at the time all this took place, was a large carrier, with flights in and out of Honolulu all day long. We simply plopped our asses down outside their security gate and waited. Every so often, large pods of flight attendants filed past. The women didn’t give us the time of day; the men, naturally, did double-takes. At Brandon, of course. (Yes, my best friend is that stunning, much to my constant irritation.)

“Like taking candy from a baby,” he whispered in my ear.

“Have you ever done that?” I whispered back. “Taken candy from a baby, I mean?”

“It’s an expression, Chase.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Anyway, let’s get this over with. I miss the beach. And the bar. And my man.”

He smiled and yawned, stretching his arms to the ceiling, revealing a taut belly and a trimmed love trail. Needless to say, several of the male flight attendants passing by nearly fell over from craning their necks around so damned fast.

“Too easy,” he whispered from between clenched teeth.

He nodded their way. The gaggle stopped dead in their tracks. Brandon gave them his best come-hither look. Naturally, they came hither.

“Aloha,” they said, all three of them, all surfer-dude Hawaiians, only nellier.

“Aloha,” we said, and introduced ourselves. They did the same.

Two of them were making connections. The third, Paul (thank goodness we didn’t have to learn yet another Hawaiian name), was in for two days before he had to turn back around and head for the mainland. Brandon hooked up with him, quick as a wink.

The others dejectedly said their goodbyes while the three of us made our way to a nearby lounge. “You guys just getting in?” Paul asked, slipping into a booth across from me and snug up against Brandon.

“Oh, um, yeah,” we lied.

„Cool,“ he said. „Beautiful here. You‘ll love it.“

Brandon ran his hand across our new friend‘s cheek. „Already do,“ he practically purred.

Paul probably blushed; it was hard to tell, what with his natural skin color and added tan.

„Um, do you have any plans while you‘re here?“ he asked us.

Brandon leaned in and cupped his hand over Paul’s ear. Paul whispered something I couldn‘t hear in response. Something filthy, no doubt, because the blush managed its way through just the same, molten red and quickly spreading. Brandon sat back and gave me a conspiratorial wink. I replied by kicking him under the table, then I excused myself, three being more than a crowd in this particular instance.

I walked back outside, a warm breeze sending goose bumps up my arms, then sat down on a bench, watching the tourists stroll by, the new ones eager and pale, the ones returning home tan and glum. I felt a tap on my shoulder and jumped. It was one of the other flight attendants we‘d just met, Peter, which was short for something long and tongue-twistery.

„This seat taken?“ he asked.

„It is now,“ I replied, patting the area next to me.

„I‘ve got an hour until my connection. I like sitting out here, watching the tourists, trying to guess where they‘re from.“

„What about me, then?“ I asked.

He looked me up and down and side to side -- not a little bit disconcerting, but enjoyable just the same. “Bay Area, for sure.” He scanned me again. “Within ten miles of the Castro.”

“Wow,” I said, duly impressed. “Do I really look that gay?”

“Well, it’s more how you and your friend carry yourselves. Very cock-sure.”

“Nice description,” said I with a wink. He nudged in closer, his smooth, tanned arm rubbing against my own.

My shorts began to tent. I hid my arousal with my hands and got down to business instead. I pointed to his lapel. “Aloha Airlines,” I read. “I seem to recall hearing something about you guys in the news recently.”

He grimaced. “One of our flight attendants. Caught smuggling drugs. Reportedly.”

“Up his ass, if I’m not mistaken. Not a bad job, if you can get it. Did you know him?”

His smile returned. “We flew together on occasion. Lenny. Nice guy. Dumb as a brick, though.” (Poor Lenny. Not the most shining epithet.)

“You’d have to be to smuggle drugs, right?” I asked, locking eyes with him, brown on brown, the goose bumps returning to my arms before they traveled to other various body parts.

“Maybe. Though he didn’t seem the type. We were at a party this one time. Lenny and his boyfriend show up. Lots of booze and pot and coke available. But I remember that they stayed clear.”

The word
boyfriend
zoomed around my brain. “I remember reading that the boyfriend went missing after the arrest,” I commented.

“Probably lying low. Nice guy, if I recall correctly. Cute Hawaiian. Never caught his name.”

Bing-fucking-o! “And what about all the cash they found on him?”

He looked at me, oddly. “Looks like you memorized that article.”

I hesitated, collecting myself, and then replied, “Nah, just found it interesting, seeing as we were coming to Oahu at the same time it all occurred.”

“Ah,” he ahed, his pinky now curling over my pinky. “Yeah, I saw some of that cash. Lenny came from a poor upbringing, like all of us. Guess he wanted to show off. But I don’t think it was from drugs. Least that’s not how he said he got it.” Again my ears perked up, along with certain other body parts. “I asked him about it, maybe like three weeks ago. He was flashing a big load of wampum. Said his boyfriend came into an inheritance and was sharing the wealth. Made sense. Lenny was a nice guy, and cute, personable. The kind of guy you’d want to make happy.”

“Or maybe he was just impressionable, gullible, easily duped.”

“Or maybe that, yes.” He paused, his finger now pressing down into my crotch. “And speaking of heavy loads... um, want to see the employee lounge?”

I grinned and nodded, following him up and back inside. The lounge was in a rear corner, silver door, barely marked. We entered, trying to look inconspicuous. He led me through the place and into a small room. “Resting quarters,” he commented. “Guests are strictly prohibited.”

I leaned in and kissed him, his lips soft and wet, inviting. “And what am I?” I asked, breathing heavily into his mouth.

“Worth the risk,” he replied, pulling me into him. “But we have to make it quick, sorry to say. Can’t miss my plane.”

Which was fine by me, as I didn’t want to be missed, either. In other words, we were naked in seconds, prone on the bed, me on top, pressing down hard on all that glorious dark flesh. My hand roamed his body, smooth as silk, caramel in color. I’d had my fair share of men before (well, maybe fair’s not the optimal word), but Hawaiian was a new item on the menu. Needless to say, I made a glutton out of myself.

My mouth traversed his peaks and valleys, sucking on an engorged brown nipple, eliciting a groan and an arched back, not to mention a thick prick now prodding at my belly, vying for my attention. I quickly and eagerly relented and made my way south. A sticky bead of precome oozed up and over a wide mushroom head, replete with its own fleshy, turtle-necked collar. I took a lick and a hungry slurp, downing his fat woodie in one fell swoop.

“Oh, yeah, suck it, dude,” he moaned, pushing my head down and around it as a blissful tear trailed down my cheek.

He smelled of sweat and passion fruit soap, tropical and enticing, drawing my mouth from his cock to his heavy balls and pink, puckered hole.

“Bottoms up,” I quipped, raising his legs in the air, allowing my mouth free range across his perfect little ass. I slapped it, the sound pinging around the small enclosure. Then my tongue wound rings around his hole, zooming ever inward before diving in. Again he moaned, bucking his butt into my face as he stroked his hefty schlong.

“Yeah, fucking eat it, man,” he rasped as I tongue-fucked him, all the while stroking my own pulsing tool.

Sadly, our encounter was short-lived. His flight was announced, the voice booming overhead. He stroked lightning fast. I hopped up between his legs, my own dick just above his, my hand matching him stroke for eager stroke.

“Shoot it, dude,” I told him -- and he did. His cock gushed, spewing a hefty load onto his belly and chest, followed quickly by three smaller ones. His body squirmed and writhed atop the sheets as he did so, his breathing ragged as he moaned contentedly. And then my cock shot, my hot come joining his, splattering on his stomach until his skin went from tan to white.

“Fuck,” I groaned, long and low and deep as the come kept, well, coming.

“Fuck,” he echoed, watching the spectacle.

With the last quivers and quakes and trickles, I stared down at our happy mess. “Aloha,” I whispered.

“Why aloha?” he asked. “That means hello and goodbye.”

“Exactly. That’s about all we got.”

He wiped his fingers through the sticky puddle we’d made. “Not
all
we got,” he said, quickly hopping up and wiping himself off before giving me a soulful kiss and a wink.

We grabbed our clothes in a hurry, making sure he’d have enough time to get dressed and run to the sink. He went left, I went right -- right, that is, into, Brandon, who was exiting the room next to ours.

He sniffed the air around me. “Better than a bathroom, I suppose,” he commented, hurrying us out of the lounge.

“Did you find out anything?” I asked.

“Other than the fact that you’re a slut? What would poor Will say?”

My stomach sank. Yes, we’d only known each other, for all practical purposes, for a few days, but still, it felt like cheating. Sort of. I mean, it was for a good cause. “It was for a good cause,” I asserted.

He grinned and led us outside. “Far be it from me to cast the first stone, Chase.”

“Plus,” I added, assuaging my guilt. “I found out plenty.”

I quickly filled him in on the Hawaiian boyfriend proof and the money alibi. He’d found out similar bits of information. Plus one more: “The boyfriend drove a limo.”

“Oh, fuck,” I said, this time not in delight.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “An odd coincidence.”

“Did your, um, informant say it was Liko?”

Brandon shook his head. “He didn’t remember the name. Still, it seems unlikely that it wasn’t Liko, what with all his apparent tie-ins with everything. Which also means that Lenny, as suspected, probably was professing his innocence for Liko’s sake and not our own. Which also makes me think that he didn’t know that his boyfriend was anything but a limo driver.”

I shook my head and sat down on a bench outside. “Okay, so Lenny, if he was innocent, which we’re still assuming he was, was either not smuggling drugs, or, if he was, was duped into it by, more than likely, his boyfriend, which we’re pretty certain was Liko. Meanwhile, Makani, the jailed dealer, claims that the so-called innocent and now-deceased Lenny was his smuggler, despite what we think.”

“Right,” Brandon agreed, sitting down next to me. “Plus the press and the police think that the boyfriend is our missing pimp, Jed, not the aforementioned Liko. Which makes me wonder how someone who we think is so innocent could’ve been dating two such really bad men.”

“Unless he was as stupid as everyone seems to think he was,” I offered. “In which case, he was just slutty and very unlucky in love.”

“This coming from the man who’s slept with two men in three days.”

I groaned. “Stop reminding me, please.”

He grinned and raised his hand to hail a passing cab. “Fine,” he said, hopping in. “But when you hit three in four, it’ll be official.”

“What will be?” I asked, getting in behind him and slamming the door shut.

“You’ll be an even bigger slut than I am.”

To which I replied, “That would take seven in five, my friend.”

He smiled, his mind trailing off to Lord knows where. “Ah,” he sighed. “And that I would definitely not call
unlucky
.”