Choosing Happy

Chapter Two

My standard ninety minute workout turns to almost three hours without my knowledge. I have a routine of twenty minutes on the treadmill, an hour of free weights and ten minutes of abs that I do every morning. So how I ended up back on the treadmill is a little disconcerting.

Even worse, I'm staring out the gym windows toward Broadway and looking for little duck. I've never seen him here so there's no logical reason for me to search for him on the streets but his eyes haunt me. Call to me. Search for me.

I see him in my dreams and am starting to obsess about them. Each time, he steps away from the prick in the suit and walks to my window for a cinnamon sugar. Sweet and spicy. It's how I imagine he tastes.

I spend the rest of the day trying to keep my mind out of the gutter and off the kid that is clearly not available. It doesn't work. So, at five forty-five, I break my cardinal rule of minding my own goddamn business and try to lure him in. I grab a small whiteboard that I keep on hand for specials and scribble a message that I hope will bring a smile to his face.

Free Samples. Cinnamon Sugar.

I write it small enough to not cause a mob because I need my window to be free at six ten. Like the asshole that I am, I start making cinnamon sugars and wait for my ducky to arrive.

And like clockwork, he passes by in a delayed lock step with the prick. But this time, I'm leaning with my head in the window and a hot plate of samples in my hand.

"Free samples, sir." I'm looking directly at my little duck. He almost jumps back when he realizes I'm talking to him with my outstretched hand. "Would you like to try a cinnamon sugar?"

His crystal eyes twinkle as a smile lights up his face. He takes a step toward me to grab one of the plastic forks I've already inserted in a square. I can't take my eyes off his and I know he feels my stare penetrating him. He's watching me until he's yanked violently back.

His yelp breaks me from my trance and I'm halfway out the window when the prick barks out, "No."

My little duck is wincing from the death grip around his forearm but he quickly falls back in line, just behind the prick, with his eyes cast down and humiliation oozing from his very being. I want to beat the fuck out of the man digging into his delicate flesh but it's not my business.

Little duck is an adult and if this is his kink, who the fuck am I to judge? I'm no savior. I'm fairly positive I just made things worse for another innocent bystander of my fucked up life. We're not in Kansas anymore.

~**~

Not willing to spend another night alone in the house both my parents died in, I slip on my helmet and hop on my R1 for a ride. As usual, I end up at Ray's, a bar that's always good for a few drinks and a blow job. Tonight, I'm not even in the mood for a drink.

I walk in and head straight to Caleb. He's there every night. I've only picked him up a few times but he's a good kid that's working his way through community college in a relatively safe way. Ray lets him use a room upstairs to meet tricks three nights a week if he works as a server the other four. It's not a bad gig if you can get it.

He's got his head buried in some kind of math book when I nudge his shoulder with my hip. "Buy you a drink?"

"Steve!" He drops the book and stands to give me a hug. "I haven't seen you around in a while."

"Haven't been around in a while." I give him a quick peck on the cheek. "But it's nice that you noticed."

"Of course, I noticed." He tucks his textbook into his bag on the floor and turns fully toward me. "So how's the life of a big waffle king?"