Daddy Blue Pt. 02

"Looking for something, partner?"

My heart leapt into my throat as I spun around to find Dad, standing in the doorway to his bathroom, eyeing me curiously. He was completely nude, except for a large bath towel slung over his shoulder.

I swallowed hard. "Dad, hey."

I just stood there, staring like the village idiot. My mind went completely blank. I knew I needed to say something, to explain what I was doing in his room, but I couldn't think of a single thing to say, mainly because I was finding it all but impossible not to stare at his dick and balls that hung like precious jewels between his long muscular legs.

"You're not going to believe this, Dad, but, um, you see, I, um . . ."

"Suppose I take a stab at it," he said studying my face with a bemused grin. "You went to order the pizza and realized you didn't have the cash to cover it, so you ran up here to raid my money roll."

This time my heart really did skip a beat. "You knew?"

"That you occasionally slip your hand in the cookie jar? Of course I knew. I've known all along, Charlie. I am a cop, after all."

"Then why the frick didn't you ever say anything?"

He chuckled a little. "I don't know. You never took that much; it was no big deal. And maybe I got a little bit of a charge out of letting you think you were getting away with something. Besides, I'd rather you come to me for money than go somewhere else. Take what you need. I trust you."

I stood there on shaky legs for several minutes after he had gone back into the bathroom and stepped into the glass-enclosed shower. I was still absorbing the bombshell he had just dropped on me—not to mention the inadvertent little peep show he had just put on—when I returned downstairs to find Dell anxiously waiting for me.

"I guess you heard that."

"Yep," said Dell.

"It was total, all-out freaky. Sometimes, I feel like my dad can see right though me."

"Speaking of seeing things, did you catch sight of that package? Cripes, Charlie. Totally freaking nice. And way better in real life."

"Shut the fuck up, Dell."

"You shut up. Who do you think you're kidding? You're just as turned on by him as I am—even if he is you dad."

I groaned. "It's true, goddammit, and just how fucked up is that? But, don't you see, Dell, that's why I've got to know if he's really gay or not."

"Well, judging from that video, I'd say he's got to be at least a little bit gay."

"Why? Because he let some guy suck him off? Oh, come on, Dell. That doesn't prove anything. We both know guys who get off on getting as many people as they can to blow them. They're not gay. They're jerks, egomaniacs who like fucking over as many people as they can. It doesn't much matter to them if you're a guy or a girl. In the end, that video may have proved only one thing for sure: that my dad's a king-sized jerk. And if he is, I've got to know."

"Charlie, this is your dad. You can't really believe he's a jerk."

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "And this from the guy who's always telling me I worship him too much and can't see his flaws. Well, I sure as hell see them now. He's changed, Dell. Every since last year when he did something I never thought he would do: forced me to go to that damned college when I didn't want to. Now I find out he's been fucking around with that creep Todd. Well, it's too much. I'm gonna find out the truth about him, Dell. And when I do, I'm gonna confront him."

"Jesus, Charlie, I don't think I've ever seen you so worked up. What are you planning on doing?"

"I'm . . . not exactly sure At least not yet. I could really use some help here, Dell."

"So let me get this straight: You want to sneak around and spy on your dad, and you want me to help you with it because you think I know all about that underhanded shit—don't you? You actually think I've done that kind of stuff. Well, I guess if the truth be told, I have."

"Good. Now where do we start?"

Dell thought for a minute and then whipped out his phone and began dialing.

"Who are you calling?" I demanded.

"Pizza Express. You can't do this kind of stuff on an empty stomach. And something tells me this is going to be a bumpy night."

A half hour or so later, the pizza arrived and Dad came bounding down the stairs at just about the same time. It was hard to miss that he seemed more bouncy and upbeat that usual. He was wearing faded jeans and an old HPD t-shirt, the sort of stuff Dell and I had seem him in a thousand times before, but this time both of us were having a hard time not admiring how well he filled out those old clothes. Dell especially kept shooting furtive looks in Dad's direction whenever he thought Dad wasn't looking until finally I elbowed him and told him to cool it. Naturally, Dell just ignored me.

"Jeez, Mr. C, I can't get over how great you're looking these days. So what's your secret? You into lifting weights—or what?"

"Knock it off, Dell. Dad doesn't want to talk about that."

"Who says I don't?" said Dad. "As a matter of fact, Dell, I hit the free weights down at the police gym a coupla times a week, and lately I've even been giving the weight bench a try too. As I've gotten older, doing that kind of workout has really paid off."

"You—older?" giggled Dell. "You sure don't look older to me."

I kicked Dell under the table and he just kicked me back. "You already said that, Dell. I'm sure Dad would much rather talk about something more interesting than lifting a bunch of dumb weights."

"Now hold on, partner," said Dad. "Don't go beratin' Dell. Fitness matters, even at your tender age. It wouldn't hurt the two of you to get into a regular exercise routine."

"See, Charlie," said Dell, looking quite pleased with himself. "Fitness matters, and if anyone knows about that stuff it's your dad. He's way fit. Toned and tanned, too, and I've got to say that that tattoo on your arm looks really great."

Suddenly, Dell who had been staring more hungrily at Dad than the pizza leaned across the table and squeezed the eagle tattoo on Dad's bicep.

"Dell!" I yelped and jumped to my feet. I guess I was a little abrupt because both Dell and Dad were staring at me. "I need to get something from the kitchen. And Dell, why don't you come along and help me get it?"

Looking a bit like a scared little puppy, Dell followed me into the kitchen.

The minute we were inside I jammed Dell up against the refrigerator. "What the fuck are you up to?" I demanded in a loud whisper.

"Isn't it obvious?" he said. "Flattery is the surest way to a guy's heart, and I'm really buttering up your dad. Can't you see how relaxed he is? Pretty soon he's gonna start opening up to us."

"Is that what you're doing?" I said sarcastically. "Because from over here, it just looks like you're flirting with him."

"Charlie, you are so naïve when it comes to guys. All that intensity and tension you put out just turns them off and makes them clam up. It's a wonder any guy at all pays attention to you."

"I just have one thing to say to you, Dell," I said, dragging him back toward the dining room. "The rest of your plan had better go better than this, because this part—it stinks."

"So what'd you get?" Dad said, looking at me.

"Huh?"

"You went in there for somethin'. So what was it?"

"Oh, uh, nothing," I said, cutting my gaze in Dell's direction. "I decided I didn't need it after all."

"OK, now that your little confab is over," said Dad giving me an amused look, "tell me about the college experience, men. So what's the verdict?"

"College if great," contributed Dell, managing to talk even while munching on a big bite of sausage and pepperoni. "Did you know they have stuff going on nearly every night of the week on campus—plus lots of cool parties and things on the weekend. Of course my dormmate is a complete drag, this big dumb straight guy from the sticks. Now if I had my very best friend rooming with me . . ."

"Um, Dell, let's not go down that road right now—OK?" I said, breaking in. "I'm sure Dad is a lot more interested in hearing about our classes and stuff like that—right, Dad?"

"Well, not necessarily," he said. "You can tell me anything you want. I just want to catch up with you, see where your head is at these days. You know, though it's been a boatload of years since I was in college, I still remember what it was like, almost like it was yesterday. But I imagine the whole college scene has changed a lot since those prehistoric days."

I saw an opening. "It has, Dad, a whole lot. Take the gay scene on campus now. Back in your day, gays still had to keep a really low profile, especially on campuses like A&M. But that's really changing now. Even at A&M, which you know is like the buckle on the Bible belt, they now have a gay student union arranging all kinds of things just for us queers. I mean, everybody but everybody is coming out of the closet these days, even the super straight-acting types."

"So true," nodded Dell.

"And that reminds me of something else, Dad," I said continuing. "One thing that is super confusing these days, what with gay marriage and everybody coming out of the closet, is like who's a good guy to date? I mean, there are so many jerks out there."

"Yes, so many, " intoned Dell.

"Well, yeah, take Dell here as an example. He has been seeing this guy on campus—cool, smart, interesting—right, Dell?"

"Uh, yeah, well, I guess," said Dell, suddenly eyeing me with suspicion.

"So, like I was saying, this guy came on strong, looking fine. And he's a graduate student, to boot. And Dell even started having some pretty serious feelings about him. But then Dell found out he was married . . ."

"Whoa, wait a minute," interjected Dad. "So, Dell, man, are you comfortable with Charlie spilling the beans on your private life like this?"

I laughed. "Of course he is—right, Dell? I mean, this is just between us guys here in the house." I avoided looking right at Dell who was giving me a What-the-hell-Charlie look. But Dell bit his tongue and kept quiet.

"And, after all, Dad, you did say we could talk to you about anything. And we could really use your advice in this situation, seeing as how you've had all kinds of experiences yourself."

"That is true," echoed Dell. "You probably know a hell of a lot about relationships—all kinds. So what d'ya think, Mr. C: Is this a good guy or not? Should I keep him or dump his ass?"

Dad laughed, then jumped up and headed for the kitchen.

"That's a real head scratcher," he said, rummaging around in the refrigerator and eventually coming back with a beer. "But, you know, we get hit by situations like that in the field all the time." He opened his beer and took a big swig of it.

"Lucky for us we get training in handling complicated domestic situations like this nowadays before we ever hit the streets, and the prevailing opinion is to let the claimant dictate his own solution. So, Dell, tell me: Do you really like this dude? I don't mean just physically. But do you really, really like this guy, so that you're willing to work out whatever issues he's got going on at home?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

"Well, there you go then," said Dad. "If you like him and he likes you, don't be so quick to give him the boot. You know, there may be a way to work out his marriage situation so that in the end everybody wins."

Dell grinned. "Ooo, me likey the sound of this advice."

"Yeah, it is very . . . cop-like," I said, slumping in my chair. Dad had just managed to answer Dell's question, give some relationship advice, and even look cool while doing it, all without revealing in any way his own feelings about playing around with guys. I could definitely feel my frustration level rising.

"You know, Charlie, I'm not the only one who can use some advice," said Dell. "And since your dad's so good at it, why don't we try this one on for size. I'm betting he gives you the same advice I did. You see, Mr. C, this morning before hitting the road, Charlie ran into his roommate's boyfriend—"

"Hey, Dell, um, Dad does not need to hear about that. Nobody needs to hear about that. So come on, Dad, what about you? We haven't had a chance to sit down and talk like for ages. Surely there's something new going on in your life worth talking about."

Dad shrugged. "Not really . . unless you want to talk about work."

"But what about after work? Weekends? Your off days? Aren't you at least getting out and going places, seeing people?"

"Oh yeah," Dad grinned. "Sometimes."

"Who? What? Tell me." I demanded to know.

Dad just shrugged again. "Nobody in particular. Come on, Charlie, I'm old. I haven't got the energy to run the streets anymore."

"Well, maybe not running the streets," volunteered Dell. "But you're still a good-looking guy. Isn't there at least someone you're seeing?"

"Hmm," said Dad, taking his time, munching pizza and enjoying his beer. "Nope."

"Dad, I warned you about that—remember? When I went off to college, I told you not to just sit around this house vegetating. If you don't get out and make an effort, you're never going to meet anybody."

"So true," added Dell.

"Guys, gimme a break, chill out," smiled Dad looking as cool as a summer rain. "I get out now and then. There's always something going on with my house buddies. We get together, grab a few beers, hang out."

"House buddies?" queried Dell.

"He means his cop friends from the precinct," I said. "That reminds me, Dad, do you ever hang out with that guy—what was his name? Todd, like you used to?"

"Sometimes, when he's not too busy chasing some girl. You know Todd, Charlie, can't light on anything for long. We still get together when he's free, shoot the breeze, play a little pool, hit a bar now and then."

I looked at Dell in exasperation. We were getting absolutely nowhere with these questions. And Dad seemed totally unfazed. He finished off two slices of pizza while Dell and I stared at him, hardly touching ours. We kept exchanging looks of bewilderment.

"I can't believe you guys aren't more hungry than that," said Dad rising up and clearing his setting. "I remember the day when the two of you could eat me out of house and home." When he strolled into the kitchen, I leaned over to Dell.

"Dell, this is getting us nowhere. What do we do now?"

"Beats me, but I think I'm going home," said Dell getting to his feet. "This third degree is starting to give me a headache. Face it, Charlie. Your Dad's too smart for the two of us put together."

"So he thinks," I said, getting up and clearing the table. "Well, I'm not giving up, Dell. He thinks he's got us snowed, but I know enough about grilling someone to know that eventually everybody cracks, if you keep going at them long enough."

"Ugh," said Dell making a face. "You don't need me for that, Charlie. But do call if something juicy happens."

I followed Dell outside and watched him drive away. I sat on the front porch and breathed in the fresh air, allowing the cool evening breeze to wash over me and clear my mind. I used to do this all the time when I had some problem eating at me or just wanted to think. It was nice sitting out here in the half-light on this old porch, like having the world all to myself. It made me feel like I was a kid again, when no problem was too big and no hurdle too high to overcome. I used to like to count the stars, but now it seemed like there weren't very many left in the sky. Finally, I got up and went back inside, looking for Dad.

I found him in the kitchen putting the last of the food away.

"Dad, now that it's just us, why don't we go into the den and talk some more?"

"Sorry, partner. Not tonight. I think I'm gonna head on up and climb in the sack."

"Already? It's barely nine o'clock."

"Sorry to disappoint you, son, but I'm beat. It's been a long day today, and tomorrow ain't likely to be much better. Plus I gotta get some rest if I hope to pull a shift on my security job tomorrow night.

"Don't go, Daddy!" I yelped as he was making the turn toward the stairs, then I ran after him and pulled him back.

"What's up, Charlie boy? What's going on?"

I don't know what hit me, but suddenly I was shaking and I threw myself into his arms and held onto him.

"I mean it, Charlie. You need to talk to me. You're starting to scare me, boy."

"Oh God, Dad, I don't know," I said after a minute and straightened up. I was so embarrassed I could hardly look at him.

Dad was staring right at me. "Has something happened? Are you in trouble?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just that, well, all of a sudden I got scared. I think it felt like I was losing you."

"Well, that's not gonna happen."

"But it is happening, Dad. It's happening every day. I'm changing, you're changing. Pretty soon, we won't be the same people. And I'm afraid that some day I'll come home and we won't even recognize each other."

Dad smiled his most reassuring smile and threw his arms around me, giving me another one of those big bear hugs. "Sounds like I'm not the only one who's tired here. So what if we're changing, sport. People change, that's what they do. But take it from me: some things will never change. And that's my feelings for you. Now I'm heading up to bed, and I suggest you do the same. Get a good night sleep, and things are gonna look a whole hell of a lot better in the morning."

Dad went on up to his room and I did the same. Of course I wasn't about to turn in at nine-fucking-o'clock, and besides I was too keyed up to settle down, so I messed around on the computer for a while, then got bored and decided to go back downstairs to the den and watch some late night TV.

I flipped through the channels until I came upon an interesting old movie called "Gilda." It was one of those noir-type movies from the 40s that Dad and I often like to watch together. It was sort of glum, shot in black-and-white, and since it fit my mood perfectly I settled in to watch.

Though there was a lot of intrigue about gangsters and Nazis and a plot to smuggle diamonds or something, the movie didn't really take off until it forgot about all that stuff and concentrated on Gilda. Gilda as played by Rita Hayworth was the local floozy who strutted around like she was the hottest stuff in town, and with those long legs, flashing eyes and tousled hair, who's to say she wasn't?

Gilda starts out as a torchy nightclub singer in a shady casino down in Buenos Aires after the war. She's just married the owner of the shady casino, a very rich, old, gangster-type German guy who seems to have lot of secrets. He's also jealous as hell of his hot young wife who is going out every night, singing in every dive in town, and basically inciting every man she meets to lust after her; so he turns to his trusty number two, an American thug named Johnny, to keep tabs on her. Little does he know that Johnny and Gilda have history together, which of course explains why Johnny is none too keen to get the watchdog assignment in the first place.

Once Old Rich German Guy's back is turned, sparks start to fly between Gilda and Johnny. Now here are two people who know how to push each other's buttons—especially Gilda who doesn't miss a trick as she runs around town, flirting with all sorts of dudes, all the while glaring at Johnny. Johnny gets his own, though, when he slaps her and calls her a tramp. (These two should get a room already!) Before long it's pretty clear Gilda is ready to heat things up again with Johnny, but Johnny, ever the loyal soldier to the old rich guy, keeps backing off. After a while, you start to wonder if maybe Johnny isn't hankering to get a room with Old Rich Guy. It becomes the weirdest triangle you'd ever want to see. And it was about at this point that I drifted off to sleep.