The Bicycle Lock

Friday is not the day of the week to have meetings, at least not for me.  There are too many end-of-the-week activities for my division.  Monday is not a good day either, as I need to close out the activities of the previous week for other departments.  That’s how it’s been since before I came to work here.  The new ‘queen in charge of everything’ doesn’t seem to realize that.  She schedules meetings anyway.  And, the meetings went on forever; with pointless agendas and rambling speakers, I sat tortured.  There was real work that I could be doing, and when the afternoon meeting concluded at four-thirty, my supervisor made the mistake of asking me for the report that I should have been able to work on had I not been forced to sit through the waste of time that took my day.

“That report will take three hours to run and summarize,” I said.

She looked at her watch.  “Then I’ll have it at eight o’clock.”

“If you assign it to someone else, but then, that person won’t be able to get it done that quickly, so you won’t have it done by then.  And I have other things to do on Monday.   The company protocol asks for a report like this to be presented, in writing, seventy-two hours before it’s needed.  I’m not sure what you’re going to do, but I got my Friday back-up and shut down procedures to do.  I’ll be leaving late as it is because this meeting ran an hour and a half over the time allotment.”

“What I’m going to do is write you up.”

Without saying a word, I turned and walked away and went straight to HR.  I filed a complaint of working in a hostile environment where work deadlines did not follow office protocol, time was deliberately taken away so I could not fulfill my duties in a timely manner, and that I had noticed a shift in the demographics of our department which made me question whether I was being targeted because I was male or because I was gay, or possibly both.

I went back to my desk and began the end-of-week procedures.  A few clicks and I would be able to monitor the completion from my home computer.  I walked out of the building ignoring the shouts of the queen and her bitch.

As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, I contemplated getting a drink.  Deciding that the rum I had at home would be plenty, I headed to the bicycle rack.  I didn’t live that far away, but I enjoyed riding my bike down the side streets that led to the office.  I reached down to release the lock that held my bicycle in place and realized that the owner of the bike next to mine had locked our bicycles together.  I had done it once by accident when I was in middle school, and it was an embarrassing incident as the other guy was there and pissed.  He recognized me from math class, and it became a joke about how really smart people can do really dumb things.  We became really good friends, and I was devastated when he drowned while on a family vacation during high school.  I’d told him my biggest secret, and he had accepted me.  He never told anyone.

The memory still upset me, and I decided to leave a note and get a drink in the bar across the street.  The emotions of finally growing some balls and refusing to be abused by my boss, the slight annoyance of finding my bicycle locked in place, and the memories of Dexter McAllister had me fighting back tears.  I kept telling myself that I was simply overtired.  

Ordering a whisky sour, I chose a place at the window where I could watch the bicycle rack.  I took a sip of my drink and remembered the first time I tasted whiskey.  Dexter and I went camping with his cousin Steven.  We set up two tents.  Dexter planned for Steven and me to take the larger tent.  His cousin had come out to him, and he hoped that the two of us would hit it off.

We drank some whiskey, got silly, and then went to bed.  When I asked Steven why Dexter didn’t want to sleep in the same tent with him, Steven got really serious.  “Austin,” he said.  “I’m gay, and Dexter is afraid that I would want to give him a blowjob.”

“That’s silly,” I remember saying.  “Dexter and I have shared the same tent lots of times.  He knows I wouldn’t force a blowjob on him.”  Steven and I laughed when we realized that Dexter was pairing us up.  While we agreed that we each needed practice with sucking dick, we knew we weren’t attracted to each other.  The next night, neither of us drank, and we spent the hour before going to bed developing our technique.

I smiled at the memory and wondered what Steven was up to.  Did he still have fond memories of the guy who liked playing with his uncut cock.  I wondered whether Steven was at the memorial.   I was barely able to function at Steven’s funeral, and I don’t remember which of his friends or family were there.  I took a deep breath.

I saw a young guy approach the bike stand; he looked about eighteen, and he looked down and appeared to laugh as he read the note.  He detached his bicycle and rode away.  So he thought it was funny.  Too bad I didn’t know what his bike looked like; I’d lock it to the stand and take the key with me.  Fucking loser.  I realized that this accident was giving me a bad mood.  I took another sip of my drink.  Sipping was safest, but I wonder if I should have ordered a shot and downed it to get things rolling.

I saw another man approach the rack.  Mid-twenties, average height, average build.  He crossed the street.  If I read his face correctly; he had a look of major disappointment on his face.  He crossed the street and looked up at the sign and then into the window.  I raised my hand.  He seemed to notice it and nodded.

He walked into the bar and over to me.  He had a tight grimace on his face.  “You’re the guy with the other bike?”

I nodded.  “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m dreadfully sorry.”

I’m not sure why, but his apology, as sincere as it was, and it was obviously sincere in every way, made me smile.  And chuckle.

His facial expression changed to one of apprehension.

“I’m not crazy; although, right now, you may think that I am.  It’s just that it’s been one of those days, and I’ve never heard anyone use the phrase ‘dreadfully sorry.’  It just hit me as funny.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.  I was running late, and…”

“Not to worry.  I did it once.  Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

A woman working the bar came over.  “May I get you something, sir?”

I spoke up.  “Let me buy you a drink.”

“I should be buying you one.”

“Tell the lady your favorite.”

He smiled for the first time.  “I’ll have a Bramble.”

The waitress developed a terrible Cockney accent.  “Oh, sir, that’s one of me favorites, too.”  She turned to me with her nondescript American accent.  “Another one, sir?”

“No, I’m fine.  I’ve been nursing it.  I didn’t want to get sloshed before my friend here showed up.”

She seemed disappointed and walked off.

I looked over at Mr. Dreadfully Sorry as he took a seat.  “Now that we’re friends,” he smiled again at me.  “I’m Oliver Walters.”

I shook his hand.  “Austin Eugene Houston.”  He stared at me.  “I know.  I hate my name.  Who names a kid after two cities and then sticks a name in the middle that’s bound to get him beat up.”

“The same parent that names a kid after Oliver Twist.”  He laughed.

“Tell me that your middle name is Twist, and my life will be all the better for it.”

He bit his upper lip.  “It’s Twist.”

“No.  You are shitting me.  It can’t be,” I said.  He had to have said that to get a laugh out of me.

Oliver pulled out his wallet and showed me his license.  His name was Oliver Twist Walters.

I stopped laughing.

“My mother’s an English professor.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to laugh.”

The waitress brought his drink.  I gave her a twenty and told her to keep it.

“I didn’t mean to bring down the mood,” said Oliver.

I patted his shoulder.  “You didn’t.  I just thought you were kidding, and I don’t think it’s funny to make fun of people’s names.”

“Were you the kid who stood up to the bullies for the other kids on the playground?”

“Nope.  I was the target of the bullies.”  I took another sip of my drink.  

Oliver sipped on his.  He glanced over at me and smiled.  Could he be a friend like Dexter was?  “Oliver, would you like to grab a bite to eat after we finish our drinks?”

“Should we bike home first and then meet somewhere?”

“I was thinking about the Chinese place around the corner.”

“I love Chinese.”  He took another sip of his drink.  “You know, Austin, I’ve only lived here a month, I haven’t made any friends, yet.”

“Then here’s to our first friendships in this big city.”  I raised my glass.  He brought his to mine and we clinked.

“So you haven’t been here long either?”

I smiled.  “Just under a year.”

“That’s a long time, Austin.”

“I don’t make friends easily.”

“I wouldn’t say that.  You just made one now.  I need to find out more about my new friend.  Is that your favorite drink?”

“No, not at all.  It’s a whiskey sour.  My favorite is rum and Coke; although, rum with the new Dr. Pepper Cherry is quickly overtaking it.  So far I can only get that one at home.  Is the bramble yours?”

“Along with a good German beer.  They tie for first.  Have you tasted one?”

“No,” I replied.

“Here, have a taste.”  He slid the glass toward me.  I picked it up and took a sip.  “Sweet and fruity.”

“That’s me,” he smiled.

I put the glass down.  I’m sure he picked it up and rotated it so his lips touched the glass in the same place mine had just done.  Did he do that on purpose?  I took a gulp of my glass;  there wasn’t much left.  Oliver downed the rest of his with one tip of the glass and looked out the window.

“I’m sorry,” said Oliver.  

“Don’t worry about it.  It was cute and funny.  You do seem like a sweet guy.  At least, so far.”  I drank the rest of my drink.  “Shall we go?”

We walked to the door, and I held it open for him.  “It’s to the left and around the corner.  Oliver walked a few steps ahead of me, and I watched his ass as he walked.  He didn’t have a bubble butt, which was good as I didn’t really find them that attractive, but I did like the way his ass moved.

He turned and caught me looking, but he didn’t say anything about it.  Instead, he asked, “What’s your favorite thing to eat here?”

“I love their Kung Pao shrimp.  They don’t overcook the shrimp.”  I began to smile.

“What is it?”

“I realized I only had a cookie for lunch, and I think the alcohol may have hit my system.  I find it funny that you caught me looking at your ass, but you didn’t say anything.”

Oliver started to laugh.  “I was worried that I had something on my pants and you were just too kind to say anything.  I was going to got to the restroom as soon as I could to see what it was.”

“Yeah?  Well, it was nothing but a sexy ass.”

Oliver slipped his arm through mine and patted my upper arm.  “Let’s get you some food.”

“I told you that you were nice.”

“Come on, Austin.”

We went into Ming’s Dynasty and ordered hot tea, spring rolls, Kung Pao shrimp, and a happy family.  The waiter walked away, and I asked Oliver if he still wanted to check his pants.  

“No.  I’m good,” he chuckled.  “I must be used to drinking more than you.”

“I usually only drink a little rum and Coke at home with my dinner on Fridays, so yeah, I’m not used to drinking, and never on an empty stomach.”  I started to realize that I had talked about his ass, and I felt that I had embarrassed him and humiliated myself.  In the restaurant, I had noticed his eyes were a beautiful crystal blue, but I had to look away.

“What’s wrong, Austin?”

“I’m embarrassed about earlier.”

“You shouldn’t be.  You’re not the first guy to look at my ass, but you might be the first one whose ass I want to look at.”

I looked up at him.  His smile gave him cute dimples and his eyes sparkled a little more brightly.  And he said he wanted to look at my ass.  “Oliver,” I began.  The waiter arrived with the tea.  He served us each a small amount.  I took my little cup.  “To a deeper friendship.”

“Yes, deeper.”

I felt my cheeks turn red again.

“You know,” said Oliver, “you’re really cute with your cheeks red like that.  When we’re done eating, I think we should bike to my place so I can show you my movie collection.”

“Why, Oliver, I’m wondering whether you’re after more than friendship.”

“I’m not sure yet.  I’ll let you know once you’ve shown me your ass.”

--to be continued--