Excerpt from The Bar Watcher:
Excerpt from The Bar Watcher:
Thorson's Woods was a notorious cruising area. Technically,
it was a city park, and it spread over the slopes of the same range of foothills
that, about a mile to the north, turned into the gryff the two queens had
sailed off in the classic Packard. Stan had told the whole fucking bar that
he was going to Thorson's Woods! And the guy in the shadows had left the
bar right after Stan!
I knew it was just a hunch—the chance that the bar
watcher had been in the Stardust at that exact time was incalculably remote,
but what if he had been there? If he had, he'd definitely have heard
Stan wave his First Class Prick credentials in front of the entire world.
Stan may not yet have become a World Class Prick like D'Allesandro or Comstock,
but from his little display at the bar, he was rising fast in the ranks.
How could anyone be so deliberately mean spirited toward someone who loved
him, for whatever the reason? Everybody is worthy of being loved—it
doesn't matter what you look like, or what you weigh, or how much hair you
have, or how old you are….We all deserve to be loved.
Yes, Dick, we know, my mind said, not unkindly.
I made a quick and totally illegal U-turn and headed
for Riverside Drive. I could tell when I reached the edge of the Woods because
suddenly both sides of Riverside were sprinkled with parked cars. I found
a parking place near one of the primary walking trails and got out. The Woods
was crisscrossed with trails, but there were a few that were particularly
popular for their accessibility to totally secluded areas. I headed up the
main trail, then took one of the branches that led to the most popular cruising
spots. Though it was well after midnight by now, and there were no streetlights,
it was a fairly bright night, and I could easily make out forms standing
by the edge of the trail, or lounging up against trees. The lights from
cigarettes dotted the night like fireflies.
Though I could see forms, faces were another matter.
Shit! Any one of them could have been the guy from the bar. Stan, I was pretty
sure, I'd be able to spot from that shirt—those black and white stripes
would stand out like neon lights even in this light. On a hunch, I took a
side trail that led to the highest point in the Woods. Not so many guys
here—a lot never bothered to come this far. But I knew there was an
area up there called "the grotto" which attracted those into group sex…and
Stan struck me as being a group sex kind of guy.
The path was steep and rocky, so I had to watch my step,
particularly in the darker areas where trees blocked out what light there
was. I reached the grotto to find maybe three or four guys there, busily
engaged in the activities that had drawn them there. One guy, on his knees
in front of another, noticed me and stopped what he was doing long enough
to motion me over to join them. I didn't see Stan among the participants,
so I managed to resist my crotch's suggestion that I take him up on his offer.
I just waved and turned back down the hill.
I was just turning a small bend in the path when I saw,
coming up the hill, someone in a white-and- black shirt that stood out clearly
even in the low light. I knew who was wearing it.
I stepped quickly off the path, where I could watch him
but he couldn't see me. And then I noticed there was someone else coming
up the path behind him. Looks like things are picking up at the grotto,
I told myself. The guy behind Stan was closing the gap between them, and
I suddenly got a strange feeling in my stomach. Stan gave no indication he
knew the guy was there. They weren't close enough for me to make out faces
or much detail, but then I saw the guy behind Stan stop, bend over, and pick
up what appeared to be a very large rock.
Jeezus! I thought. I didn't move a muscle until
I was sure I knew what the guy had in mind. He moved up quickly toward Stan,
who was apparently so focused on getting down to business at the grotto that
he still didn't know there was anyone behind him. The guy was only about
five feet behind Stan, now, and I saw him raise the rock over his head with
both hands.
I jumped out into the path and yelled "HEY!" then
took off running—or as close to running as the trail would
allow—straight for Stan, who just stood there, probably startled out
of his gourd. The guy behind him dropped the rock, turned, and ran back down
the hill.
I reached Stan, who was still just standing there like
a deer caught in the headlights, completely blocking the path, forcing me
to almost come to a dead stop. "Move!" I said, reaching out to grab him by
the shoulders and practically throw him out of the way. He stumbled into
the underbrush and I continued down the twisting path. I could catch only
occasional glimpses of the guy ahead of me, moving fast. When he reached
a point where three trails came together, he suddenly darted off into the
woods. He turned his head slightly to look back at me, and ran into a low-hanging
branch of a pine tree, which caught him and spun him around, hard. But he
regained his balance and continued running, disappearing into the woods.
Damn!
When I got to the point where he'd entered the woods,
I realized that he could have quickly backtracked to any one of the three
trails. I chose one at random, and continued running.
Nothing. More guys along the trail as I neared the bottom
of the hill, and I hadn't had a good enough look at him, other than as a
running figure, to be able to even know if he was one of the guys I passed.
Totally frustrated, but pretty sure the guy wouldn't
make another move on Stan that night, I found my way to my car and drove
home.
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