Uprising - The Suspense Thriller Part 19

Jasper checked his impulse to sit up. "You run it by Jeevers yet?"

"I want to get some solid facts first."

"So you have nothing now?"

"Just the police reports and two interviews." He saw the shock in Jasper's face and felt the need to explain. "I took a trip. To Kentucky to see those two cops from the first bas.h.i.+ng. They could barely talk, their faces were so swollen and distorted. Makes me sick just thinking about it." He tried to shake off the images and lay on his stomach, perpendicular to Jasper, his hands clutched together as if in prayer. "Jasper, I know I can crack this story. Violence is not the answer to our problems. As a gay reportera"well, not openly gay, but gay just the samea"I want to get these goons arrested and show positive things like the Triangle Fund. I just need a sure-fire lead." He had been talking to himself as much as Jasper and suddenly realized Jasper had been silent for some time. "You don't agree with these terrorists," he paused, the thought having never occurred to him before, "do you?"

Jasper laughed and patted Bruce's chin as if to say, "silly boy."

"You just keep plugging away at it. I'm sure you'll find your lead."

Eyeing his boss, Bruce thought about it, then smiled, nodding his head in appreciation of Jasper's support. Jasper yawned and turned over on his side, away from Bruce, as if to go back to sleep. In reality, he was wide awake, sleep now the farthest thing from his mind.

HAVENHURST DRIVE, RAIDER thought, glancing up at the street sign as he made the turn: home of gayboy personal trainer Raider Kincaide. He burst out laughing, arching his head toward the starry night, and singing:

If they could see me now, those block-head friends of mine....

"They'd probably kill me," he decided, still amused. Amazingly, there was a parking s.p.a.ce not far from the apartment building. What a break, he thought. He pulled into the open spot, jokingly comparing it to the break he received when ACTNOW insisted he be the videographer for the night's festivities. Fine tuning the parking job, he glanced at the videotape next to his Dodgers baseball cap on the pa.s.senger's seat.

"Thought they'd make the novice earn his bat, huh?"

Earlier tonight, when they met up behind a boarded-up cleaners in Koreatown, he gladly took possession of the camera. When no one was looking, he performed a little cosmetic surgery on it, placing tiny specks of black tape over the red recording light so no one could tell when he was capturing their mugs. Now he had every last one of them on videotape, before, during and after the bas.h.i.+ng, hoods on and off, in one van before the beatings, in the other afterwards. He even got that red-headed flamer to brag about the other bas.h.i.+ngs.

"Freedom, my man," Raider had said. "Which do you like more, crus.h.i.+ng bones or driving the getaway van?"

"You kidding, man?" Freedom had said between nasty coughs. "In Florida and Dallas, Freedom Clark was the man. My blows were the blows that sent those rednecks to intensive care."

Thank you and goodnight. It was enough to convict every last one of the members of Level 3. The only one he didn't get a shot of was the real Oth.e.l.lo, but he had bigger felonies in mind for the pop star. And switching the tapes had been cake. In the commotion of the getaway, no one even noticed. Now, ACTNOW had a blank tape full of screen noise and would think the rookie f.u.c.ked up while the real tape would soon join the other evidence in the safe deposit box in a West Hollywood bank.

Raider put on the Dodgers cap, grabbed the tape and hopped out of the Jeep, feeling pretty d.a.m.ned triumphant and wis.h.i.+ng he could go out and find himself a nice young filly to keep him and Raider, Jr., company. But the p.o.r.no videos he charged to the expense account would have to do for the night, just as they had every night for the last several weeks. He couldn't afford to slip-up again, not after the Nantucket fiasco.

Across the street from the apartment building, Oth.e.l.lo saw Raider approaching from the opposite direction. He'd been sitting in the Impala for over an hour, not dressed as Joe but as himself with black jeans, white tank top and a faded blue denim jacket. It was after midnight now, the vans having gone their separate ways over two hours ago, and he had to lay eyes on Raider, to see if the rookie activist was closer to being a full-fledged rebel or ready to go AWOL. Except for the two of them, the street seemed empty, so he got out of the car.

Just as he was about to turn into the complex walkway, Raider saw the Impala and knew right away who it belonged to. But he was shocked to see Oth.e.l.lo, not Joe, getting out and heading toward him as he quickly slipped the videotape into his back pocket.

"Have you gone insane?" he said in a hushed tone, grabbing Oth.e.l.lo by the shoulders. "You're flirting with disaster here!"

"If I spend another minute in that costume I think I'll blow my own head off."

"People walk their dogs around here at all times of the night."

"I needed to see you, to make sure...to see how...are you all right?"

Raider looked both ways down the street, and deciding they were alone, let go of Oth.e.l.lo. "More than you know. Here." He removed his baseball cap and placed it on Oth.e.l.lo's head. "Disguise your noggin at least."

"Thanks." Oth.e.l.lo smiled a bashful smile, as if Raider had just handed over his Dartmouth letterman's jacket. "So you were okay with what you saw tonight?"

"I can't wait for more. But you shouldn't be here. You heard Travis say we don't contact each other for at least a week after tonight."

"That doesn't apply to us." Oth.e.l.lo glanced around nervously. "Can we go upstairs. To talk?"

"No," Raider said too quickly. Barbie Walsh, Cherry Grove and a dozen other p.o.r.no starlets were all over the apartment, showing their wares on glossy video boxes. Not to mention getting upstairs without Oth.e.l.lo trying to scope out his b.u.t.t and spotting the videotape. "My place looks like one of your California quakes. .h.i.t it."

"Like that matters."

"Here's a better idea: how 'bout a drive? I'm too stoked to sleep anyway."

Oth.e.l.lo agreed and Raider indicated the topless Jeep just down the street, letting Oth.e.l.lo walk ahead of him. When they reached it, he unlocked the pa.s.senger door first, letting Oth.e.l.lo climb in while he slipped the tape underneath a dirty towel in the back.

They drove in silence, first south past lonely commercial thoroughfares, then onto the freeway heading west until it segued into the tunnel that spilled onto Pacific Coast Highway going north. Several times Oth.e.l.lo began to speak but stopped himself, not wanting to compete with the wind. Raider also remained quiet, hoping Oth.e.l.lo would eventually p.r.o.nounce himself exhausted and ask to be taken back to the Impala. But Oth.e.l.lo showed no signs of fatigue, and when they snaked their way through the Malibu portion of PCHa"the mountains on one side, the ocean on the othera"he yelled to Raider: "There's a clearing coming up. You'll love it."

A mile later, he told Raider to slow down and pull over. Obediently, Raider brought the Jeep to a crawl and crossed the highway, bringing the car to a halt on a large patch of earth jutting out over the ocean. There were no other signs of life around them, just the occasional headlights of a lone vehicle approaching then pa.s.sing in the darkness behind them, and the moonlit Pacific in front.

"Not bad," Raider said as he killed the engine, truly meaning it. "This your private little place?"

"I've been here before. I thought we could use the peace and quiet, you know, after, well, the sounds of breaking bones."

Raider adjusted his seat to give himself more room. "You regret being there? Or doing it altogether?"

"No, I don't regret it. Do you regret it?"

"I told you I didn't." He looked over at Oth.e.l.lo, who seemed far from being at ease. "Let your seat back, relax a little." Feels strange, he thought, telling Oth.e.l.lo what to do.

Oth.e.l.lo did as he was told. The atmosphere in the Jeep began to lighten, both of them taking in the view of the blackness before them and listening to the calming sounds of the ocean's waves.

"This is good," Oth.e.l.lo said after a while.

"I have to admit."

"Of course, it'd be better if I did this." Removing the Dodgers cap, Oth.e.l.lo leaned over to rest his head on Raider's chest, but b.u.mped it on Raider's chin in the process.

"Whoa!" Raider said, rubbing his face, pretending it hurt more than it did.

"Sorry," Oth.e.l.lo offered but snuggled into Raider's chest anyway.

"No problem." Seeing that Oth.e.l.lo wasn't going anywhere, Raider took his right arm and raised it as if he were going to put it around Oth.e.l.lo. It took a couple of tries, but eventually his brain convinced his arm to complete the task.

"That better?" Oth.e.l.lo asked, melting his upper body into Raider's.

Raider mumbled something that pa.s.sed for a yes.

"I could get used to this," said Oth.e.l.lo, "for a very long time."

Raider remained mute.

Oth.e.l.lo raised up and looked at him with those piercing brown eyes. "And I could get used to this...." Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he planted a peck of a kiss on Raider's lips.

"Mmm," Raider said as if to mean "yummy." No need to panic, he reasoned. After all, they'd already kissed twice, on the Big House terrace and saying good-bye at the door that same night. A kiss was just a kiss, right Bogey?

"And this...." Oth.e.l.lo planted another one, a peck and a half under his chin.

"Mmm."

"And this...." This time it was a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Mmm. Mmm."

"And this...." Now the other corner. "And...." Now full frontal lip locking. They were at it again. Forever it seemed. Thank G.o.d Oth.e.l.lo had full thick lips, the kind he liked on women. But still. And the guy wasn't letting up. The tongue was coming. Oh, f.u.c.k, not the tongue. Oh, well. The boys at the bureau never have to know, right?

Oth.e.l.lo's right hand roamed over Raider's hair, face and neck; and Raider was startled to realize he had both arms around Oth.e.l.lo, one caressing his back, the other gripping his shoulder.

"Whoa," Raider said, unlocking his lips and coming up for air. "The songs don't lie. You are a pa.s.sionate one, aren't you?"

Oth.e.l.lo giggled like a school girl, looking down toward the gears.h.i.+ft he was hovering over.

"You better not break that," said Raider, "else we'll be stuck here all night."

"I wouldn't object," said Oth.e.l.lo.

"Let's get out and look at the view." Raider was out the door without waiting for an answer. He went to the front of the Jeep and leaned on the hood five yards in front of the cliff. When Oth.e.l.lo joined him, he put his arm around the pop star's shoulders to make up for bolting too fast. Oth.e.l.lo responded by putting one arm around Raider's torso.

"You wouldn't happen to have a blanket in the back, would you?" Oth.e.l.lo asked with a mischievous grin.

"Just a gas can and some greasy towels, sorry." As if lack of anything to lie on had ever stopped Raider Kincaide before. And he would have to be hornier than usual tonight, with Oth.e.l.lo in heat and ready to pounce. If he were ever going to be with a man.... Bet that would seal the deal with Oth.e.l.lo, too, wrap this case up in a flash. h.e.l.l, he could get 'em now with the audio tape of the Wis.e.m.e.n and video tape of Level 3, but he had zilch on any a.s.sa.s.sination plot.

He bent down and nibbled on Oth.e.l.lo's ear. d.a.m.n, I'm crazy, Raider thought. Of all the things I've ever done. Maybe just a b.l.o.w.j.o.b. From one of the biggest names in all of celebritydom. Raider had heard guys were better at it anyway. What he wouldn't give for a quick b.l.o.w.j.o.b right now, here out in the open, screaming when he came like there was no tomorrow. He fronted Oth.e.l.lo and grabbed his waist, surprised at how small it was considering Oth.e.l.lo's ripped upper body. He kissed Oth.e.l.lo some more, then, that being a little too intense, ran his closed mouth over his neck. That was easier. Oth.e.l.lo was loving it, too, grinding his pelvis into Raider's, his hands roaming all over Raider's shoulder blades as if he couldn't get enough of all that wide expansive back. One of the most famous stars the world over was off-the-chart h.o.r.n.y for him. That was enough to go to any guy's head.

Next thing Raider knew, he had Oth.e.l.lo pinned against the hood. On his thigh he could feel Oth.e.l.lo's hard-on, pressing through his jeans, aching to get out. Then Raider realized Oth.e.l.lo's wasn't the only hard c.o.c.k. d.a.m.n, Raider said to himself, I'm that f.u.c.king h.o.r.n.y tonight. Just one little quick and wet b.l.o.w.j.o.b, how 'bout it? For the case and because he was on fire tonight. It was Oth.e.l.lo or a couple of rounds with Cherry Grove and the videos back at the apartment. Which was it going to be?

"Oth.e.l.lo, we gotta stop." Raider scooted off of him, banged his forehead on the hood and took his first sensible breath of the night. "We can't do this. I can't do this." He straightened up and walked toward the ocean. It wasn't worth it. Nothing in the world would make h.o.m.o-s.e.x worth ita"no accolades, no glory, no Hollywood movie based on his life, nothing. Besides, he could bust the case without having to drop his trousers and, yes, he could also wait for Cherry Grove back at his apartment.

Use your f.u.c.king brain, Kincaide. Think with the bigger head.

The life momentarily drained out of Oth.e.l.lo when Raider let go of him, but he was also relieved, for doing more than kissing and dry humping brought up an infinite number of confusing questions and issues, questions and issues Oth.e.l.lo was far from knowing how to handle. And watching Raider brooding at the sea, Oth.e.l.lo figured he knew exactly what was going on in his would-be lover's mind.

"Talk to me," said Oth.e.l.lo. "It's what I think it is, isn't it? What every dating couple these days has to talk about at some point."

It took a moment for Raider to catch on, but catch on he did. "s.e.x isn't as easy as drop your pants and away-we-go anymore."

But let's please not talk HIV status, Oth.e.l.lo begged the G.o.ds above, then said, "True, the carefree days are long gone, but if we never let ourselves not be safea""

"Safe?" Raider repeated incredulously, speaking from his heart. "What the h.e.l.l is safe?"

"Well, safe is kissing and what we've done so far."

Seemingly unsatisfied with the answer, Raider picked up a rock and hurled it toward the Pacific. To himself, he thought: reason number 8,075 why to never have s.e.x with a man: disease.

"Safe," said Oth.e.l.lo, giving it another try, "safe is learning together what we can and cannot do, then never ever putting each other at risk."

"Safe is slowing way the h.e.l.l down, Oth.e.l.lo, pure and simple." He thought about asking Oth.e.l.lo if he'd been tested, but figured Oth.e.l.lo was as healthy as he looked. Besides, he reasoned, they weren't ever going to do the horizontal mambo anyway. Meantime, until he had enough evidence of an a.s.sa.s.sination plot, fear of catching AIDS was going to become his newest best friend and foremost excuse for not getting naked with the leader of the Wis.e.m.e.n. "You know, Freedom looked so frail tonight. I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'll end up like that."

"It's good we put the brakes on," Oth.e.l.lo conceded. "We're still getting to know each other, I guess, still waiting to make it special and right." He was fl.u.s.tered and didn't know what else to say. Pursuing the issue any more would have surely led to questions about getting tested and he was nowhere near close to being close to telling Raider the truth. "So we wait. We slow it down."

"Fine with me," Raider said, picking up another rock and letting it fly in the name of releasing some pent-up energy. "Slow it down. Way down." He made a loud screeching noise as if he were a car trying to come to a dead stop from some astronomical speed.

"I get the picture," Oth.e.l.lo said, unamused. "I think we both do."

"Good," said Raider. And that was that.

It was late. The mood for love and/or s.e.x dwindled for both of them. Without having to verbalize it, they both climbed back into the Jeep and headed south, back down the dark twists and turns of Pacific Coast Highway.

THIRTEEN.

I T WAS BOUND to happen, Raider mused, standing just inside the doorway of the Spike. From the moment he took the job pretending to be a gayboy, he figured he'd have to someday step foot inside one of their bars. The Spike was a dark and dingy hole in the wall, and since it was still light outside, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the place.

The main room was really an oversized corridor, bar on the left, stacked crates on the right, a pool table near the back. And men. Only men. Fifteen or so. What the f.u.c.k was the world coming to? A handful of them surrounded the pool table, watching two young dudes setting up a game. Another half dozen lined the bar, figuring out who to take home no doubt. To his relief, he saw what he came for sitting at the far end of the bar. He made his way down the corridor, ignoring the eyes following him and blanching at the industrial-like noise that pa.s.sed itself off as music.

"Hey, look who's here!" he said when he reached the end of the bar.

"Hey, stud," Gus said. "Cool surprise; grab a stool."

"Thanks." Raider sat down beside him. "Bud Light," he said to the black bartender whose big chest was straining to break out of a thin white tank top.

"This your regular haunt?" asked Gus.

"Actually, my first time here," said Raider. He'd found out this was Gus's hangout from Darnell, the black Rastaman in ACTNOW. Raider had pretended to be romantically interested in the bearded, overall-wearing-speed-chasing liar. It worked. "Kinda glad to see a familiar face," he told Gus now. "And I must say, I'm glad the face is yours."

Gus turned about twelve shades of red.

"Another beer here for my friend here," Raider told the bartender. "And keep 'em coming. For both of us." He smiled at Gus, who seemed taken aback and confused. "I've got nowhere to be," Raider said nonchalantly, "do you?"

"I was gonna hang out all night," said Gus.

"Money," said Raider, getting the grin he wanted from his brand new drinking buddy.