Free Dirty Power by Ashley Bartlett

young.
    “Did he walk or drive?” Reese asked.
    “I don’t see a car.”
    “Bike. By the fence.” Reese pointed.
    The door opened. Light from inside spilled onto the dim porch. He handed her the bag.
    “What’s he giving her? What’s in the bag?” I asked.
    “I don’t know, but it looks like she’s paying him.”
    “Sketchy,” I said.
    “Totally.”
    The guy took whatever she was giving him and turned away. The door closed. He got on his bike and started to ride.
    “He’s gonna go right past us,” I said.
    Reese and I slid down in our seats as he went by.
    “Shut the fuck up,” Reese said.
    “What?” I sat up a little so I could see.
    “The bike has a crate on the back.”
    “So?”
    “The crate has a sign,” she said.
    “What’s it say?”
    “She ordered takeout. He’s the delivery boy.”
    “Shut up,” I said.
    “Nope. We are crazy paranoid.”
    I started to laugh. “For real.”
    “Your girlfriend really knows how to spend a Saturday night.”
    “She’s not…never mind.”
    There wasn’t much to say after that.
    I officially hated street surveillance.
     
    *
     
    “This feels skeevy,” I said.
    “You’re tellin’ me,” Christopher said. “Honey,” he added as an afterthought.
    “Seriously skeevy.”
    “I’m not asking you to put suntan oil on me. Be happy.”
    “That’s because science has revealed that suntan oil is bad for you,” I told him.
    “Fine. I’m not asking you to put sunscreen on me. Be happy.”
    We were stretched out on a big beach towel. Christopher was stretched out on his back looking at the water. We were playing the part of a couple. Gay, not straight. And I was figuring out that drag is hard in summer clothing.
    “Why didn’t Ryan just play the part of your boyfriend?”
    “He’s sleeping. You know he was on the night shift,” Christopher said.
    “Then why can’t you play straight for a day? You did it for twenty years.”
    “Shut up and read your magazine.”
    “I’m just saying.” The Ace bandage across my chest was itchy and hot. And I was wearing a shirt that was just a little too tight. I might have been cranky.
    “It was Breno’s idea. I think he wanted an excuse to spend time with Reese,” Christopher said.
    “Whatever.” I went back to the magazine I was reading. Or pretending to read. I was lying on my stomach looking up at Joan’s house. With sunglasses on, it looked like I was reading. I was trying to get an idea of the layout of the house. It wasn’t working.
    “Cooper?”
    “What?”
    “Why aren’t your legs shaved?” he asked.
    “Fuck you.”
    “Sorry, I was only curious.”
    “I’m lazy.” I don’t know why I decided to answer.
    “Oh. It works well for the disguise.”
    “Yeah, I used my magical ability to look into the future and predict that Breno would suggest that I dress in drag and pretend to be your young, hot lover on the beach.”
    “You’re an ass,” he said.
    “A great ass.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “I’ve got a great ass,” I said. “That was also part of the disguise. I wanted to literally be a hot piece of ass. So I predicted the need to work my glutes.”
    “Do you think about the shit that comes out of your mouth, or do you just speak?” Christopher asked.
    “I don’t even know what we are talking about anymore.” It was honest, at least.
    “Can you see anything?”
    “No. The angle is all wrong so I can only see the upper floors. And there’s a couple staring at us.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Two dudes. Checking us out.” I was trying to play it cool, but they had been cruising us for the last five minutes. And now they were walking toward us.
    “Damn.” Christopher must have caught sight of them.
    “Wanna hold hands?” I asked sarcastically.
    “As abhorrent as I find the idea, yes. It might keep them from coming to talk to us.” He reached a hand over.
    “Fuck.” I shifted my magazine so I could hold it with one hand. Then I reached over and slid my palm