Before I turned off the piece-of-shit Porsche 911 I’d gotten for a steal right before moving away from home several years back, the check engine light came on again. The car was older than I was and the clicking noise it made when idling was just one more opportunity for me to pump money that I didn’t have into the dying beast. I’d have to take it over to Will and see if he could work on it after hours again and save me a few dollars.

My house’s detached garage opened to an alley that I was usually uncomfortable walking through to get home. Other than the one behind The Firehouse that I frequented for smoke breaks, alleys creeped me out. Short, gay, and quick-tempered was not the best combination for staying out of trouble, especially so close to The Strip. With all the bars and strip clubs, bad things seemed to congregate in that area.

Much like the car, though, I was too poor to do much about it.

Looks like it’s time to start walking to and from work for a while. It’s not like I go anywhere else, so what’s the point in fixing the car?

The garbage can on the side of the garage got a swift kick when it reminded me that it was completely my fault that I didn’t make more money. Gay and quick-tempered was actually safe enough for the alley most days, but it never worked for me in the corporate world. After getting fired from six office jobs in two years, I gave up a few years back and learned to rely on the money I made DJing at The Firehouse. It paid just well enough to keep me fed and stocked in cigarettes. As long as ramen noodles, frozen pizza, and macaroni and cheese counted as real food.

Needing a smoke to calm my nerves, I grabbed the one that I’d tucked behind my ear and reached into my pocket for my lighter, but only found my keys and a condom that one of the waitresses gave me as a gag earlier in the night.

Extra small.

Word had gotten out after I’d made the mistake of fucking one of the bartenders. I was most definitely not an extra-small in that department. Three waitresses had given me their numbers in the last week, hoping that I liked pussy, too.

Sorry, ladies.

Fortunately, that bartender got canned for stealing some money. He seemed like a clinger and I was definitely not in the right mental place for a relationship.

The condom reminded me that I wouldn’t be needing even an appropriately sized one.

Fuck you, Trey. Why’d he have to scare off my cop?

I threw the condom across the yard, and gave the cigarette an evil look. I should have quit smoking, too. Stupid expensive habit, but fuck that. I’d already quit drinking. No smoking? What’d be next? No fucking? No breathing?

Breathe. Relax. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Breathe out.

I’d seen a therapist six times back in high school when my parents were trying to turn me straight. The only thing I’d gotten out of it was that soothing technique before I’d started skipping appointments and eventually just moved away from home after high school graduation to save everyone the grief and embarrassment of being around me.

Standing in the hot early morning in my own backyard, an hour from my family, everything was good enough, though, except for my busted car and that god-awful country music the cop was listening to out on his back porch. It was bad enough that he’d shunned me earlier. He didn’t need to rub it in by playing that shitty honky-tonk music at three o’clock in the morning. There was no way I’d fall asleep until he went to bed and turned it off.

Without pausing to consider the consequences, I stomped through his yard. Just as I reached the first step of the back porch, I considered that this cowboy-loving cop might be sitting there drinking away memories of a dog that had just died, and hugging up to his shotgun.

Don’t be stupid. Not everyone that listens to country music in Georgia is a cowboy with a shotgun fetish.

“Howdy, partner,” a deep voice drawls from a dark corner of the covered porch.

Shit. I should have just gone to bed and turned on my radio loud enough to drown out his. I’ve got to learn to control my impulses.

The porch creaked as he rose from his porch swing. All I could see was his shadow, which reminded me that he was damn tall, but at least there was no sign of a shotgun.

Desperate to go on the offensive and keep any advantage I might have had, I said, “Turn down that shitty music, man,” and cringed at how loud my voice sounded. I couldn’t back down, though. “It’s too late for that shit. It’s after 1965 after all.”

“What are you? Some kind of music vigilante doing a sweep of the city to keep the citizens safe from music you don’t like? After listening to that stuff you call music down at The Firehouse, I needed to scrub it from my ears. Besides, it’s not that loud. No one else is complaining. Why don’t you just go to bed before you say something you’ll regret?”

“Don’t you threaten me, man.” I hoped I sounded bold and confident, but when my palms started sweating, I really wished I’d been able to smoke that cigarette. I didn’t even know the guy’s name. He was just some eye candy that I’d noticed in the club but couldn’t work up the nerve to talk to. For all I knew, he was crazy.

When he stepped toward me, I felt so small. Him being a couple of steps above me wasn’t helping anything. His body seemed to stretch up to the moon. My legs wobbled and time slowed. I felt drunk. Grabbing ahold of the handrail to steady myself, I took a good look at his face. At the club, I’d limited myself to side glances to make sure he didn’t catch me gawking. I had trouble getting past the evening stubble that covered his strong jawline that I would have loved to have scratch up the insides of my legs.

When I noticed the cowboy hat, I lowered my eyes to stop myself from giggling, but it did nothing to help me regain my composure. His faded blue jeans were so tight I had no trouble telling that this cowboy would have no need for an extra-small condom, either.

Giddy-up!

I deserved a handsome, rugged, sturdy man, but this one had already turned me down once. I wouldn’t be giving him another chance to hurt me.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he just stood there, as big and mysterious as the night, with an amused twinkle in his eyes and his mouth curving up into a grin.

“Just turn it off, okay?” I whispered, not sure if I was talking about the radio or whatever he was doing to make me hornier the longer he stared at me. I poked him in the chest with my fingertip to drive the point home. It was like touching granite. I immediately regretted another one of my foolish impulsive moves and hoped that the mountain of a man would not get mad at the provocation and decide to crush me.

Hoping to sidetrack the cop, I said, “I worked a long shift and got shit on at work by an asshole customer,” I flash him a grin of my own. Two can play at that game. “I just want to climb into bed and fall asleep.”

That was a lie. I was buzzing with energy, more alive than I’d been in years. Between needing a drink, a smoke, and a fuck, I knew I wouldn’t sleep until I got at least one of them. I thrust my hands into my pockets again, searching for my lighter before remembering again that I’d left it at the bar. Growling in frustration, I tossed the cigarette out into the yard.

I’m not gonna drink. I’m not gonna fuck. I’ll just light the damn cigarette on the stove.

But I couldn’t do that, either. I’d just thrown out my last cigarette. I needed to go out in the morning to buy more.

When I turned back to look at the cop again, that wide, easy smile taunted my sensibilities. Could he possibly be interested? Grabbing the can of cheap, piss-flavored beer from the man’s hand, I had it halfway to my lips before remembering.

No alcohol. I’m not going to end a three-year streak just because of this asshole.

I tossed the can over my shoulder where it joined my cigarette, lost to the night in the backyard.

“Hey, what the fuck?” he said, finally showing some sign that I was getting to him.

“Drink a real beer next time,” I said, grimacing at how much of an asshole it made me sound. I should have just gone to bed. I closed my eyes and counted down again.

“You can’t just come over here and steal my beer, you know?” the man said, a little too slowly for me to deal with.

I needed to burn off energy. I needed to bounce or spin or run.

Or fuck.

“Call the cops, man,” I said. “It’s just half of one cheap-ass can of beer. Lock me up.” I held my wrists out as if waiting to be handcuffed, and wondered why I wasn’t trying to be nicer to the man with the broad chest and tiny waist.

“I’m off duty,” he said, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and stepping down one stair. His legs moved with a hint of bowed legs that did nothing to help me feel steadier.

I couldn’t tell if he intended to punch me or kiss me. Had I misread what had happened in the club? I certainly hadn’t been his target when he’d come over to the DJ booth, but was it possible that he hadn’t rejected me, but rather had been flustered by what Trey had said?

I wasn’t good about backing down when confronted, even when it was clearly in my best interest, but I wasn’t much good at fighting either. I was too small and pretty for that.

He didn’t seem threatening, other than just being huge and awake at hours when civilized people should be sleeping. If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed that he thought the whole incident was amusing. Something he’d be able to joke about with his friends when he went back to work.

We stared at each other for long enough for my racing heart to pound several times.

What is he doing to me?

Before I could stop the words from pouring out of my mouth, I asked, “Do you want to fight or fuck? Because if neither, I’m going home.”

I immediately wished I were anywhere else in the universe.

Stupid impulses.

I doubted that the cop would punch me, but I’d have to deal with him chuckling about what I’d just said every time we saw each other while walking to our garages or getting our mail.

The man turned back to the house without a word.

I exhaled, hoping the guy was too drunk to remember our meeting in the morning.

Just before I turned toward my own place, he opened his screen door and said, “Are you gonna stand there or are you coming in?”

With no hesitation, I hurried up the steps. My cock sprang to attention when he pressed his hand against the small of my back and guided me through the door.