Date: Mon, 27 Dec 2004 21:58:57 -0800
From: Teh Genius <stories@tehgenius.com>
Subject: Beginnings/Another Rainy Monday Chapter 1

Legal Note From The Sarcasm Department

Do not read this story if:

You are not over 18 years old (or the legal age where you live).
Reading this story will land you in jail (unless you're into that type of
thing).
You don't want to read about men touching other men in somewhat
inappropriate places.
You think that boys have cooties.
You are prone to masturbatory spraining.

This story is completely fictional.  It is not meant to represent or
reproduce any person or situation. If this seems to mirror your life in any
way, you're a lucky bastard.  This story is about two guys heading to the
same place from different directions, and the odd meanderings they take on
the way.

Enjoy!


Another Rainy Monday...
====================

      I've always loved the rain.  Most people do their best to stay as far
away from it as possible, but to me the rain has always been something that
lifts my mood.  I'm not sure if it's the sound of the rain plowing into
solid objects or the sheer joy of running around like an idiot while
willfully jeopardizing my continued health that made me love the rain...
perhaps it's something deep and mysterious that I'll never be able to
figure out.

      The rain out today wasn't normal rain, it was fuck-you-and-the-horse-
you-rode-in-on rain.  I love the rain and all, but driving across a narrow
bridge in a torrential downpour pretty much ruins any wakeup buzz one might
have had.  The only positive thing about the rain was that I made it to
work in record time once I had managed to avoid several near-accidents and
one grumpy police officer.  To cap my morning off, my nemesis the rain had
decided to rob me of the opportunity to space out while looking through my
office window by slowing to a dismal drizzle falling gently on everything.
Fighting my urge to punch random inanimate objects, I trudged through the
parking lot of the shopping center across the street from my work to get a
cup of coffee.

      Luckily for me (or perhaps for everyone else) there was no one in
line to feel my righteous wrath.  I stumped up to the cash registers,
perfectly willing to bark out my order, pay for my drink, and get the hell
out of there.  Maybe hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but I was
doing my damnedest to perfect my imitation.  Thinking back, I'm pretty sure
that there was a vast conspiracy on the part of Cupid and Mother Nature to
make me look like a jackass.

      "What can I get you?"

      Five simple words.  Five relatively meaningless were all it took to
make me catch my breath and to set my blood on fire.  Well, 5 words and one
amazingly gorgeous man with flaming red hair, tons of freckles and pale
grey eyes with a mischievous glint in them.  Most vexing was the fact that
he just stood there with a smile on his face without saying anything.
Summoning the depths of my composure and eloquence, I decided to forgo my
anger and continue our conversation with a bit of witty repartee and a
charming smile.

      "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...."

      OK, so that didn't work out that well.  Time for plan 2.

      "Uhh..."

      Holy shit, he's hot!

      "Yeah..."

      Patience Terryn, you can get through this without making an ass out
of yourself.  Just keep your foot out of your mouth and we'll make it
through this.

      "Can I get a venti raspberry mocha?"

      Am I always this retarded?

      I was all thumbs as I fumbled for my wallet.  Granted, the tenting in
my jeans wasn't helping matters much either.  Noticing that I was out of
cash, I fished my credit card out and handed it over.  Somehow in the span
of less than 5 minutes I had gone from an irritated grump to a clumsy
schoolgirl with an apparent speech impediment, all over a mysterious guy
I'd just met.  He took my card and slid it through the reader, then asked
to see my ID.  I flipped open my wallet, grateful for an excuse to tear my
attention away from him.  Of course, my smooth moves caused my wallet to go
flying right out of my hands and over the counter.  By then, every nerve in
my body was screaming at me to leave as fast as humanly possible and never
look back.  I began making plans to pack up everything I owned in order to
flee the country and avoid any chance of ever seeing this man again.  I
sighed loudly and smacked my forehead in embarrassment.  Even through my
mortification, though, I did manage to sneak a peek at how gorgeous his ass
looked as he bent over to retrieve my wallet.  It didn't really meet the
qualifications of a bubble butt, but in that moment I became very jealous
of the khaki pants that got to caress it so intimately.

      I tore myself away from staring at him as he stood up and turned
around.  Handing me my wallet and credit card, he started laughing gently.
With one swift motion, he hiked one leg up on the counter and grabbed the
front of my shirt with his right hand.  His left hand slid gently along the
side of my face as he pulled our heads together.  Our lips met gently,
sliding past each other like gentle butterflies time and time again.  He
ran his tongue along my lips and it was like an earthquake passed through
my body.  I moaned softly and reached my hands out to...

	... grab the credit card receipt and pen that he was offering.

      Chalk up one win for my autopilot system!  All I could do is pray
that everything had stayed in my head while my brain was off in fantasy
land.  While I wasn't 100% sure, I had a pretty strong suspicion that most
coffee establishments frown on customers making kissy faces at their
employees.  Unsure as to whether he was chuckling at my spaced-out behavior
or some unintentional acting out of my fantasy, I signed the charge
receipt, stuffed my wallet back into my pocket and moved over to the end of
the counter as quickly as possible.

      No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't tear my eyes off of him for
more than a few seconds.  As I watched him make my coffee, I wondered how
many people had done the same in the past.  Wondered how many people lusted
over the way that the hanging strings of his apron formed an enticing V
just below his ass... wondered how many people noticed the tiny tuft of
dark red hair that peeked above the unbuttoned collar of his polo shirt...
wondered if he knew how sexy the thick silver rings he wore on his index
fingers were ... wondered if anyone ever watched the tiny red hairs on his
arm as they swayed with his every movement... wondered if I'd left the iron
on... wondered if I was crazy.

      "Terryn?  You're all set!"

      If I hadn't been tongue tied already, the sound of my name coming
from those luscious lips would have done it.  Normally, I hated having an
odd name, but hearing him say it just seemed so... right.

      "Thanks... uhh... dude..."

      I snatched my coffee from the counter and went to get a stir stick.
On the condiment bar was a small sign that said "Your server is..." and had
the name Erik Kelly written below in charcoal pencil.  Next to the name was
a Polaroid of Erik standing behind the counter, running a hand through that
red hair and with the same wonderful smile on his face.  With that piece of
"stolen" knowledge and one last look at the gorgeous Erik, I turned to
leave the store in a much better mood than when I had entered.

      I held the door open as a woman and her adorable little girl came
hustling in to get out of the weather.  The little girl bounced around the
store and ran toward the candy display in front of the counter.  Just
before the door closed, I heard her shriek "Daddy!!"  and I swear I could
feel time growing slower.  My morbid curiosity got the best of me, and I
turned on my heel.  As the door shut with a final ominous click, I saw that
Erik was holding the girl in his arms and smiling at the woman who had
brought her in.  They looked like the model of a perfect family, and all I
could do was stand outside and stew in my own jealousy.  I paced aimlessly
up and down the shopping center's walkway trying to get a handle on all of
the emotions that had come storming to the surface that morning.
Eventually, I turned back toward the parking lot and dashed through the
rain to my car.  Just before I got into the car, I risked one glance back
at the coffee house.  Erik was cleaning off the tables that ran along the
front window, and he paused in his ministrations to look outside.  It must
have been a trick of the rain, but it looked like he held his hand up to
the glass to wave goodbye as I looked.  Feeling embarrassed, jealous and
sad all over again, I got into the car and headed across the street to
work.

      I had a feeling that it was going to be one very, very long day.

Erik Sings The Blues ===============

      I sighed as I thought about the prospects of another day in this tiny
little coffee shop.  When my manager approached me about switching stores,
she lured me with a promise of managerial pay at a fast-paced store just
minutes from my house.  When the paperwork had all been done, what I ended
up with was a 5% raise from my already meager salary and a transfer to the
smallest store in the chain.  So, instead of a decent wage and fun times at
work, I got stuck in a shitty little store making damned near nothing.

      Que sera, sera... I guess.

      The only real positive thing that my job offered was a chance to work
on my music virtually uninterrupted.  From the age of about 10, I would
routinely find myself humming snatches of songs that I heard on the radio,
altering the cadence or adding in a piano accompaniment in some sort of
bizarre quest to "perfect" the song.  Sometimes I would just listen to the
music and think of a brand new set of lyrics, often transforming a pop song
into something dreary and depressing or a country song into a tune about
finding dogs, cars and women everywhere you looked.  One time, my mom
started laughing so hard at my impromptu revision of a song that she almost
got us into an accident on the freeway!  After that incident, she suggested
that I write down the lyrics so as to avoid another incident like that.
From that day forth, I carried a little notebook around with me everywhere
I went, jotting down notes on phrasing and reminders of interesting harmony
ideas that popped into my head unbidden.  Eventually, all of the jotting
started to become full fledged songwriting and composing.  I may not have
been the next Carole King, but at least it was something to fill my idle
times.

      Oddly enough, I never really entertained the idea of becoming a
performer.  I had no problem singing to myself in the shower, but I was
always much more comfortable with the idea of someone else performing my
works for me.  During high school, I saw an ad on a school bulletin board
looking for people to audition for an acoustic guitarist spot in a band.  I
had taken guitar lessons throughout most of elementary school, and kept in
practice to help with composing songs.  I did find it a bit odd that the ad
specified acoustic guitar, though... most of the bands that formed at my
school were composed of a lone drummer, as many electric guitarists as
could be fit into a room, and one scrawny, pale guy screeching and howling
into a microphone.

      When I dropped by the band's rehearsal, it turned out that the band
was composed entirely of guys that I knew of in passing from school.  As a
little demonstration of my skills I played some Clapton tunes, some other
pop songs that I had heard on the radio...  and then, on a whim, I played
one of my songs.  It wasn't even a finished song, but the entire band just
stood looking at me as I played.  I abruptly stopped playing as I felt the
pressure of 4 sets of eyes boring into my skull, and I immediately turned
beet red.  Denny, the drummer, just looked at me and said "Play that again
man..."  Somewhat confused, I started playing the song again, and Denny
started playing a light drum rhythm along with my guitar.  Within minutes,
everyone had joined in and we spent almost an hour playing with different
sounds and instrument combinations, tweaking every part of the song.  From
that afternoon forward, I was an official member and head songwriter of
Davey's Goliath.

      Somehow the band stuck together once we graduated, and we actually
developed somewhat of a cult following in town.  Of course, being part of a
band in the Bay Area was somewhat akin to being an aspiring actor in L.A.,
but it gave us all the chance to do something we loved.  We struggled
through scheduling conflicts, petty arguments, heckling and financial
crises trying to make a name for ourselves, but overall things worked out
pretty well.  We held down day jobs, hoping for that one day that our big
break would come.  8 years after I joined the band, we had experienced
plenty of small breaks, but never quite hit the big times.

      Still, I worked at writing songs and music, and slaved away slinging
coffee every day.  I was sure that one day my coworkers would string me up
for constantly tapping out beats on the counter with a pen or humming to
myself, but no one seemed to mind too much.

      With another overdramatic sigh, I tossed my notebook back underneath
the counter and started flipping a pen between my fingers.  Out of the
blue, someone yanked open the door and rushed in out of the rain.  I barely
had the chance to see a long blond ponytail stalking past the espresso
machines by the time I had made the three step journey to the cash
register.

      I grabbed a cup, put on my best
aren't-you-the-most-wonderful-customer-ever face and got ready to take my
first order of the morning.

      "What can I get you?"

      It wasn't until after I had spoken that I got my first glimpse of the
blond guy's face.  As soon as he looked up, I thought I was going to have a
heart attack.  The smile froze in place on my face.  What the hell was HE
doing here?  The last time I had seen him, we were passing each other in
the parking lot of a company 30 miles away.

      At first I thought that he had recognized me as I saw the look on his
face go from anger to a look of utter shock.  After a few seconds of
staring, he blinked rapidly and then started to order.

      "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... uhhh..."

      Finally, he managed to mumble his order while his eyes darted all
over the room.  I rang up the order and gave him the total.  He handed over
a debit card and chewed on his lip nervously.

      "Can I see some I.D.?"

      He reached into the pocket of his jeans like an automaton, and
started to pull out a black leather wallet from his pocket.  As he flipped
open the wallet, things quickly moved into slow motion hilarity.  The
wallet went flying one way and business cards went flying another.  I
really felt sorry for him, and discretely hid my chuckling behind the
counter as I knelt to pick up the items strewn everywhere.  Once he had
stuffed his items back into his wallet, I decided to take pity on him and
tried my best to keep a straight face.  I ripped the credit card receipt
from the printer, grabbed a pen, and held the pair out to him.  He stared
right at me for a few moments... not so much at me as through me.  There
was a forlorn look in his eyes that I'd never seen before.  The few times
we'd crossed paths in the past he'd always carried himself in a determined
fashion, like a man on a very important mission.  Now he just looked like a
wet, blond and very cute puppy.  I couldn't help but chuckle at the
imagery.

      Once I started to laugh, he blinked rapidly and his cheeks turned
bright red.  I hoped that I wasn't making him feel bad by laughing, but I
really couldn't help myself.  Acting on my noblest instincts, I finished
ringing him up quickly and started to make his drink.

      Since there was no one else in the store, I did what little I could
to keep him around as long as possible.  I was sure that it wouldn't help
his embarrassment at all, but I let my childish instincts allow me to
stall.  While my hands were busy steaming milk, my mind was busy trying to
think of some way to talk around his discomfort.  Unfortunately for me, my
hands were always much faster than my brain and no amount of stalling could
unmake the cup of coffee in front of me.

      When I turned to hand him his coffee, I noticed that his blush had
faded a bit and that he was chewing on his lower lip again.  It looked like
he was doing his best to make sure than the locks of hair that weren't
bound in his ponytail covered as much of his face as possible.  He seemed
to be deep in thought, and didn't stir when I placed his coffee on the bar.

      "Terryn?"

      I realized with a start that I had never addressed him by name
before.  He had always been just a face in passing, or a voice on the other
end of a telephone line.  It seemed like the simple act of saying his name
lent some strange clarity to the moment and verified that he had really
walked back into my life after all this time.

      "You're all set!"

      Quite the conversationalist, aren't you? Dumbass! Say something
useful!

      As I opened my mouth in a vain attempt to say something witty, Terryn
mumbled his thanks and raced toward the condiment bar.  I frowned and tried
to shrug off the nagging feeling that I was reading too much into the
situation.  On impulse, I walked around the counter and headed toward the
condiment bar to try talking to him once more.  As I rounded the corner, I
saw another one of my favorite blondes come racing across the store.  As
she jumped into my arms, Angie shrieked "DADDY!!" at the top of her lungs
like she always did.  I gave her a hug and gave her mother a quick kiss
hello.  The door swung shut, and I had just enough time to glance out
through the glass in order to see Terryn standing outside.  He hung his
head and walked away before I had a chance to do anything.

      Angie's shouting was enough to rouse my co-"worker" Tony from his
weed- induced nap in the back.  I had tried several times to get Tony
fired, but each time my manager reminded me that we were several people
short of a full staff and that we needed warm bodies in the store.  Though
I was always hesitant to use the words "work" and "Tony" in the same
sentence, he always managed to sober up just in time for the daily rush.  I
had adopted a "don't ask, don't yell" policy with him.  As long as he
didn't piss me off or let customers know that he was stoned I stayed off of
his back and out of his way.

      "Dude, I think someone dropped this, dude."

      I couldn't help gritting my teeth at his use of the word "dude"
multiple times in the same sentence.  He stood behind the counter holding
up a small plastic rectangle.  I set Angie down and wandered over to look
at what he was holding.  My eyes widened as I realized that he was holding
Terryn's driver's license.  I took it from his hand and walked toward the
front of the store.  I scanned the parking lot without luck, hoping to see
him out in the parking lot.

      "It must have fallen out when he dropped his wallet.  Hopefully he'll
realize it's missing and come back for it."

      I must have sounded as excited as I felt because Tess gave me an odd
look.  Tony just shrugged and wandered back into the back room.  Once he
had disappeared, I turned to Tess and showed her the I.D.

      "Look... I know that I kinda dropped this on you out of the blue and
that you're still not really OK with all of this, but that was HIM.  That
was the guy I've been preoccupied with for so long.  He was here, in MY
store, and he might come back for this!"

      Tess gathered Angie up in her arms and looked at me.

      "Erik, I don't know what to say.  I just stopped by for Angie's sake.
She misses her dad, you know. "

      "Yeah, I know.  I know her mom does, too."

      I cuffed Tess on the chin gently to keep her from crying.

      "Erik, hon... I don't want this to keep Angie away from her family.
I still love you, you know.  Always will.  This will just take... some time
to get used to, I guess."

      "I know Tess... I know."

      "Angie, honey, give him a goodbye kiss."

      Angie planted a kiss on my lips with all of the fervor that a 2 1/2
year old can muster.  I tickled her tummy and gave her a kiss on the
forehead.  I walked them to the door and waved as they walked off.  Angie
blew another incredibly cute kiss over her mother's shoulder and I
dutifully caught it and put it into my pocket.

      Once they had left, I went through the motions of cleaning tables as
I stared at his I.D.  While the picture on the I.D. wasn't nearly as good
as watching him in the flesh, at that point I had to make due with what I
had.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the zip code on his
license was the same as mine.  Once I had stopped to read the address, I
didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  I'd been bemoaning the loss of this
man for so long, and he lived less than five blocks from my house.  Out of
the corner of my eye, I noticed a blond streak racing across the parking
lot to get into his car and get out of the rain.  My first instinct was to
run out the door after him, but I knew I'd never cover the distance in
time.  All I had time to do was to press the I.D. up to the window in the
palm of my hand and hope he'd look over.  Surprisingly, he looked right at
me and I waved my right hand to get his attention.  I thought that it had
worked, but he just ducked his head again and then slowly got into his car
and drove off.

      All I could do was wait out my shift, and hope that when he came back
for his I.D. I'd finally work up the nerve to have a real conversation with
him.  Everything about the morning had turned out badly, and I lapsed back
into an old habit that I determined to give up years prior.

      I prayed that everything would work out for the best.


================
Author's Ego Note #1
================

Welcome to the end of the first installment of a story that has been
bouncing around in my head for months.  I actually started this story in
June, but work and other time constraints put a damper on the pace of the
writing.  If you didn't like the dual first person setup of this chapter,
too bad for you.  If you don't like the fact that no one just started
humping randomly, don't bother with part 2.

Copyright 2004 by TehGenius. Comments and constructive criticism welcome at
stories@tehgenius.com.