You Belong to Me – 11

 

 

'You still aren’t wearing my present.'

 

Corey found the printed message slipped under his door when he got home mid-Sunday morning after his night with Renny. It would have been bad enough if it had come in the mail, like the previous one had. The fact that his stalker—and he was now beginning to believe that’s what the person was—had gotten into the building to hand deliver it did not make him the least bit happy. In fact, he was beginning to be afraid.

 

Where are you, that you can watch me without my knowing it? At the club? At the shelter?

 

He knew the shelter, with its vast turnover of clients, was a possibility. There was no way he could remember every man who came through the doors. If one of them was paying special attention to him, would he even be aware of it? Of course, the same held true for the club.

 

What Corey couldn’t figure out was why someone had decided to fixate on him. It’s not as if I’m anything special. Hell, there are men at the club who make me look like… nothing the least bit exceptional.

 

He crumpled the note and tossed it into the wastebasket, realizing as he did so that the last one was in there too since he hadn’t emptied the trash in the last week. For a moment he debated rescuing both of them. But to what end? It wasn’t as if there was anything in them to identify the sender, since—he was quite certain—they had been created on a computer. And fingerprints? I’ve probably ruined them by handling the notes.

 

He wondered what would happen if he did start wearing the watch. The idea creeped him out, but still he thought it might be worth a shot.

 

He also considered—again—calling Kerry but decided worrying his brother when there was nothing he could do but give advice wasn’t worth the stress that might ensue. If Kerry told their parents…. Corey didn’t want to think what would happen if he did. They’d descend like… like locusts.

 

Restless, a bit afraid, and definitely at loose ends, Corey briefly thought about going to noon Mass, just to kill some time. He quickly put that thought aside. When he visited his family, Mass was de rigueur. Otherwise, he tended to avoid going to church except on holidays. All things considered, he didn’t feel comfortable there, even though none of the parishioners had a clue he was gay.

 

He couldn’t fill the time cooking, as he wasn’t hungry. Renny had fixed a big breakfast for them. He wasn’t in the mood to go to a movie either. So what to do to kill time? Mondays were no problem as far as keeping busy, because that was when he did his laundry, cleaned the apartment, and went grocery shopping.

 

Groceries. I’m in desperate need of them. It’s not written in stone that I have to shop tomorrow. Going into the kitchen, he made a list of what he had to buy, then drove to the chain grocery store ten blocks from his place.

 

You Belong to Me - 10

 

 

Since Corey was now back on his regular schedule at the shelter, with Sunday and Monday off, he decided to go to a club Saturday night. After dressing in tight-fitting jeans and his favorite T-shirt, he checked himself out in the mirror. If the family could see me now, they’d think I went off the deep end.

 

With that done, he gathered up what he needed to take with him, put on his jacket and gloves, and headed out. Ten minutes later he was parking in the lot beside The Scene, the same club where he’d run into Brad a few days earlier. The place was really hopping, the bar standing room only, and on the dance floor there was barely room to move.

 

Managing to squeeze between two men at the end of the bar, Corey flagged down the bartender and ordered a beer. When he had it in hand, he wove his way to a spot along the wall where he could watch the dancers. “Or at least their heads,” Corey grumbled, since there were a hell of a lot of men between him and them.

 

“Some pretty cute heads though.”

 

Corey turned to see who had said that and smiled. “For sure, Renny, for sure.”

 

“It’s been a while. I was beginning to wonder if you’d fallen off the edge of the world,” Renny said, slinging one arm over Corey’s shoulders.

 

“I was here a couple of days ago,” he protested.

 

Renny chuckled. “And I wasn’t. My loss. Want to see if we can shove our way onto the dance floor?”

 

“Sure. Let me finish this first.” Corey held up his bottle of beer.

 

Seconds later Renny snatched it from him and handed it to a guy walking by them. The guy looked at him in surprise, took it, and kept on going. “There, it’s finished,” Renny said with a grin before putting his hands on Corey’s hips to steer him into the dancing throng.

 

“Bossy,” Corey grouched, but he smiled when he said it. He knew that was Renny’s way of dealing with impediments to what he wanted.

 

They danced, or more accurately, moved in time to the music, bodies pressed together with their arms around each other’s waists. It didn’t take long for Renny to suggest they take the dancing to a more comfortable, and more horizontal, venue. To wit, the bed in Renny’s apartment. Feeling a bit like a slut, since he’d been with Brad so recently, Corey considered saying no. His body, however, was giving a much different message, which Renny had obviously picked up on. Not all that reluctantly, Corey agreed to the plan.

You Belong to Me – 9

 

 

With the holiday season over, Corey’s life settled back into its normal routine, more or less. The temperatures dropped significantly, so the shelter was filled to capacity day and night, and he spent more time there than he did at home. When he did return to his apartment, he collapsed into bed for a few hours and then showered, put on clean clothes, and went back to work.

 

Three days after the cold snap, the weather improved enough to allow Corey to work his regular shift again. When he got home that evening, the first thing he spotted was the pile of unopened mail from the last few days that he’d tossed on his desk to look at when he had time. “Bills and more bills,” he grumbled as he began going through it. There were other things, too, including a couple of what he presumed were late Christmas cards. The first was a comic one from an old college friend. Corey chuckled at the message and put it aside.

 

His address on the second one was typed, with no return address and a very blurred postmark. He opened the envelope, expecting to find it was from some company he did business with.

 

It wasn’t. The front of the card showed two hands, fingers touching to form a heart with “Merry Christmas” under them. From the look of it, the sender had designed the card himself, probably with a photo-manipulation program. Inside, typed, was a message: I’m hurt. You haven’t been wearing my gift.

 

That was all. No signature. Nothing to indicate who had sent the card.

 

My secret Santa, as Archie put it? He could only presume that was the case and the sender was referring to the watch. Creepy. He shivered, crumpled the card, and tossed it into the wastebasket. I should get rid of the watch too. Donate it to… some charity that could sell it and use the profits to support their efforts. Not to the shelter, though. Mr. Zimmer would wonder why I was getting rid of it and, knowing him, make a big issue of it.

 

“Who the hell are you?” he muttered. He figured it had to be someone he’d met at one of the clubs. But why approach me this way? Why not just come out and say he’s interested in me? “Games, and not ones I like.”

 

He was tempted to call Kerry to get his opinion about the gift and the card. As a cop, even though in a different city, he might have some suggestions on what to do.

 

Like tell me to go to the police, and what would that accomplish? There’s nothing overtly threatening in this. I don’t think I can get a restraining order against a person or persons unknown. He chuckled dryly. Nope, not happening, so I’ll forget it for now and hope this is the last I hear from them.

 

 

You Belong to Me – 8

 

 

Corey finally got off work around nine thirty that night. He’d put in over twelve hours because one of the other men had called in sick at the last minute. When he got home, he took the watch in its box from his jacket pocket and set it down on his dresser. “Who are you? And more to the point, why me?” He examined the box, hoping he’d missed something, like a note from the sender. He hadn’t. Nor was there any kind of inscription on the back of the watch.

 

Shades of Play Misty for Me or some such. He smiled sourly as he shoved the watch into the back of one of the dresser drawers. Damn, I hope I haven’t got a stalker like in that movie. Whoever she is—or he, because I have no clue—this had better be the beginning and the end of it.

 

With that thought in mind, Corey changed out of his work clothes into jeans and a sweatshirt before going into the kitchen to make something for supper. A fast check of the refrigerator and the cupboards told him it was time to go grocery shopping if he wanted to eat at home. Since he was hungry now, he put on his jacket, grabbed his keys and wallet from the dresser where he’d left them, and headed out to a nearby restaurant.

 

An hour later, well fed and feeling restless, he decided—even though it was a work night—to stop at one of the clubs he sometimes frequented. When he walked in, he saw, as always, a mix of couples and singles. After finding a seat at the bar, he ordered a beer, then watched the people on the dance floor. He recognized several of them, some fondly, others not so much so. One of the former turned, obviously checking who was at the bar, and waved when he saw Corey. A moment later he came over and took the vacant stool next to him.

 

“It’s been a while,” Brad said after ordering a beer.

 

Corey nodded. “I went home for Christmas.”

 

Brad smiled sardonically. “Ah, the joys of family.”

 

Chuckling, Corey replied, “It wasn’t all that bad. Good food, presents, all the normal festivities.”

 

“Bet you didn’t tell them, though.” Brad was one of the few people who knew enough about Corey to be able to say that.

 

“Nope. Someday… maybe.”

 

“When you’re old and gray.”

 

Corey laughed. “Tottering around in my walker, telling my brothers as they languish in nursing homes.”

 

“Probably better then, or not at all.” Brad had reason to say that. He’d been kicked out and disowned when his parents had found out he was gay. Luckily, his older sister had no longer lived at home and she’d taken him in. Otherwise he might well have ended up at a shelter like the one where Corey worked.

 

          They talked for a while, danced a bit after that, and by the end of the evening, decided to go home together. They’d done that a few times since they’d first met, so it wasn’t, to Corey’s way of thinking at least, too surprising when Brad suggested it. They ended up at Corey’s place, enjoyed a good bout of sex with no strings attached, and then Brad left.

You Belong to Me – 7

 

 

The rest of Corey's shift went as always. He helped some of the men in their search for a job or a cheap apartment, and supervised cleaning the dorm rooms—a chore the men were required to do if they wanted to return again. At one point he broke up a fight between two teens before sitting down with the pair to find out what had happened.

 

“He stole something out of my backpack,” the older one said.

 

“Did not,” the younger one protested. “You left it on the table in the rec room. I was just going to return it to you.”

 

“Bullshit! You were putting it in your pack. I saw you.”

 

“Just ’til I could give it back.”

 

“What is this priceless treasure?” Corey asked. He figured it was probably gloves or some such, given the cold weather. He was surprised when the older boy dug a dog-eared book out of his pack. “Okay. That is a prize worth keeping.”

 

“Yeah, and it’s mine.” The older boy glared at the younger one. Then, inexplicably, his gaze softened. “When I’m done with it, if I see you around, I’ll lend it to you. Until then, hands off.”

 

“Thanks,” the younger kid muttered. “Is it good?”

 

When Corey left them, they were discussing the book and others they’d read.

 

Maybe I should write a book: A Day in the Life…. He smiled in amusement. Naw, Phil can do a movie script. Hell, as good as he is, he might even be able to sell it and get Daniel Radcliffe to play me. As if. He chuckled.

 

“What’s got you so happy?” Archie asked, coming up beside him. “Figure out who your secret Santa is?”

 

That sobered Corey immediately. “Nope. No clue.”

 

“Well, I’m sure she’ll let you know soon enough. She’s just teasing to up your anticipation level.”

 

“Then she doesn’t know me well. It just pissed me off.”

 

Archie waggled his eyebrows. “But she wants to. Know you well, that is.”

 

Corey shrugged before continuing on his way to the shelter’s admitting room. “Won’t happen if she doesn’t reveal herself.”

 

Won’t happen even if she does. But that’s none of Archie’s business.