Free Boy Midflight by Charlie David Page B

features and built like a tank, Jordan looks like he’d just as soon beat the shit out of you as say hello.
    Then he does. “Hellllllooooo! Oh, sweetie, you look fabulous! Where did you say you were from again, baby? Canada? Do all the boys wear little fur boots there? That’d be adorable!” A Muscle Mary. Gayer than the morning sun. And really fun once we got it clear I would not be sleeping with him.
    And from Puerto Rico, Fernando, now a native Californian of six years. He has mocha skin, funky and spiky blond-tipped hair, and a devilish grin. When he took off his shirt the first day for our “fraternity beach volleyball” shoot, it became very apparent why he was here. Fernando has a Brad Pitt Fight Club physique, all cut up.
    “That’s right, soak it in everyone, the party has arrived,” Jordan announces to himself as much as to anyone else who may hear him. “Good thing we hooked up the young one with ID. His looks are high currency around here.” He pinches my ass as we sidle up to the crowded circle bar.
    “Hey, hands off, Jordan. Ashley’s not your groping toy,” Mikal commands, pushing between Jordan and me and acting as a human wall. “Go find another Mary to play with.” Turning to me and Fernando, he asks, “What are we drinking, boys? Couple tequila shots to get started?” Fernando and I nod, silly smiles pasted on our faces. The whole club scene is nothing new to me. I’ve been to clubs at home, but the thrill of being three years underage again adds some excitement. In Canada the legal age is eighteen or nineteen depending on the province, but down here twenty-one is the magic number.
    “Hey, Mikal, thanks for stepping in there. Jordan is great but can be….” I search for the word.
    “Pushy, full of himself, a little hands-on…,” Fernando finishes for me.
    “No problem. Drink up, boys!” Mikal says like a football chant. Slamming one, then a second shooter on the counter and pulling the lemon peel out of his teeth, he winks at me. “Besides, we don’t want any damaged goods.”
    I’m still wincing from the tequila when Fernando pulls me by the shirt. “Get over here, man. They’re having wet T-shirt contests with girls on the mechanical bull! Yee-haw!”
    A pretty blonde is navigating the bucking bull between her legs as a cowboy in jeans, no shirt, and a hat pours ice water on her. She squeals and puts on a great show for the crowd. No doubt a paid performance by an aspiring starlet.
    “She is so hot!” Fernando gushes, drawing a quick breath between his teeth and reminding me of Chris. “So what’s your deal, man? You have a girlfriend back home?”
    “Uh, no,” I stammer, trying to decide where to go with this. Don’t trust him, he’s straight. He doesn’t get it, he’ll think you’re sick. You want to be hurt again? Shut it! I’m tired of living the lie. I can start anew here. If he can’t handle it, he’s not worth my time. Big mistake. I’m warning you. It’s safe in here.
    “Actually, I kind of have a boy friend back home, at college. His name is Chris.”
    Fernando laughs. “Cool, well I never pegged you for guys, but what do I know? Really?” He laughs again.
    “Yeah, really. We were just starting to get serious when I came down here.”
    “Well I’ll keep my eye out for you if you keep one out for me. I like fun blonde honeys with perky breasts.” Fernando laughs again. He laughs a lot, always has a smile on his face like the world has never hurt him. Which is maybe why he’s so open, no reasons for hate.
    “You’d love my friend Michelle. I’ll introduce you if she visits.”
    “What’s your type, Ashley? Someone like Mikal?” he asks, pointing with his chin over to the bar where Mikal is under siege by two California blondes.
    “What? I don’t know. I mean, I have Chris at home. I’m not even thinking of dating other people. Mikal? No. I mean, he’s older, and besides, he’s straight. He’s like an older brother to me here.