Alex in Wonderland (The Wonderland Series Book 1) (12 page)

18

Stormy Weather
    

“This should make you feel better,”
Cord said when the bus finally left the Florida
mainland and rumbled onto the

Cord was right. Alex’s mood
steadily improved as one sun-soaked island after another melted beneath the
wheels, and for the first time since fleeing New Orleans
he believed escape was within reach. He even stopped worrying about bring
broke, sure Chandler would stake
him a few bucks until he found some kind of work.

He also revised his opinion about
the seven bodybuilders. They commandeered the rear seats on the half-empty bus,
and once Cord introduced him as his half-sister, Alexis, Alex discovered they
weren’t the egotistical boneheads he thought. Thinking him a hopelessly plain
Jane with no tits, they adopted him as their mascot and made him promise to
attend the contest. Alex soon joined the fun, joking and camping and dismissing
his earlier jealousy as childish. He was especially drawn to a boisterous
redhead named Larry, but was glad Cord laughed off Larry’s suggestion to switch
seats. Cord whispered to Alex that the guy might be bisexual with a penchant
for mercy fucks and decided Larry didn’t need a closer look.

“We’d better stay away from those
two rednecks too,” Alex added, nodding down the aisle. “They were on the bus
from Jacksonville and they’ve been
staring at me ever since we left Miami.”

“You mean that backwoods version of
Laurel and Hardy?” Cord returned the pair’s attention with a pointed glare. “I
wouldn’t worry about those inbred homophobes. Even they’re not stupid enough to
fuck with a bunch of bodybuilders.”

While Cord resumed joking with his
new friends, Alex forgot about the rednecks and admired infinite stretches of
blue-green on both sides of the

“How can the driver see in this?”

“Dunno,” Cord said. “Looks pretty
nasty.”

Larry leaned over the back of their
seat. “That asshole should’ve pulled over back there. He’s got us on the Seven
Mile Bridge.”

“What does that mean?” Alex asked.

“That we’re driving through seven
miles of open sea, that’s what,” Larry grunted. “We’ll get slammed in all
directions.”

“You know this area?” Cord asked.

Larry nodded. “I grew up on Boca
Chica.
The last stop before
Key West
.”

Talk stopped as the driver plowed
into the heart of the storm. Howling winds made conversation impossible, as did
a numbing fear when the bus rocked and skidded under increasingly powerful
gusts.

“Why doesn’t he pull over?” Alex
yelled.

Nobody answered, just held tight as
the bus slipped and slid across the bridge. By following taillights, barely
visible in the driving rain, the driver miraculously managed to negotiate the
seven treacherous miles of causeway and get the bus to Big Pine Key. As they
reached solid ground, however, relief was short lived as the bus skidded hard
right, veered off the highway and plowed into a pothole-riddled vacant lot.
Bags and packages flew from the overhead racks, pelting passengers who screamed
and held tight as the bus careened out of control. It finally bounced to a halt
just fifteen feet from a trailer park. No one was thrown from their seats, but
the driver slammed into the steering wheel and was knocked cold. A
fast-thinking passenger at the front of the bus leapt up to lock the brake and
turn off the ignition.
 

When it was all over, Alex realized
he had grabbed Cord and was tight in the man’s embrace. People looked around,
making sure no one was hurt and wondering aloud what to do next. Larry was the
first to grab his cell phone and call 911. He reported their location and the
injured driver and shouted over the storm in an attempt to reassure the other
passengers.

“They’ll send someone as soon as
the storm passes, folks,” he yelled. “We’re supposed to sit tight.”

“When are they coming?” asked a woman
on the verge of hysteria.

“Shouldn’t be too long, lady. If
anyone needs help, we’ve got a nurse aboard!” Larry motioned to his partner.
“Better take a look at the driver, Jeff.”

By the time they located the first
aid kit, the driver had regained consciousness. Jeff bandaged his forehead and
announced it was only a mild concussion. He confided to Cord that driver's
injury was much more serious and he was only trying to maintain calm while the
winds continued to howl. Another hour dragged by and then, as fast as it had
risen, the storm blew north toward the Everglades, and
skies cleared to a glorious blue. Everyone sighed with relief, and spirits rose
further when an ambulance pulled into the lot and paramedics scrambled aboard.
Alex admired their professionalism as the chief paramedic hustled the driver
into the ambulance and checked to make sure no one else was hurt.

“You'll need to wait here until we
contact the bus company to find out what to do with you people,” he said. “If
you want to stretch your legs, there’s a diner on the other side of that
trailer park sign. Please don’t wander any further.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Cord asked
Alex as he continued to cling tight.

“Fine.” Alex was disappointed when
Cord moved his arm away. “But I’m suddenly starved.”

“Danger sometimes does that.” Cord
got up and retrieved a fallen bag for the woman across the aisle. “Let’s grab a
bite while we’re waiting.”

Alex blushed and motioned him
close. “I don’t have any money.”

“I think I can spring for a
sandwich.” Cord chuckled. “And maybe a lipstick too. You could sure use a
touch-up.” Alex reddened even more, prompting Cord to reassure him. “C’mon,
kid. You’re with me.”

Alex wasn’t sure what had just
happened, why Cord was suddenly so protective, attentive even, but he reveled
in the feeling. Since he still wore the wig, he risked taking his “half
brother’s” arm as they walked the twenty yards to the diner. The human contact
felt good, and he was pleased when Cord grinned.

Everything about the Blue Marlin
Diner was left over from the Fifties, including the food. Alex couldn’t
remember the last time he saw banana splits on a menu, not to mention Blue
Plate specials served on dishes with dividers. Old enough to be everyone’s
mother, the waitresses peppered their conversations with “dearie” and “sugar”
and were as retro as the food with their baby blue uniforms, nametags and
immobile beehive hair-dos. The one named Rayette flirted shamelessly with Jeff
until he put his arm around Larry and told her they were lovers

Rayette rolled her eyes in mock
shock, leaving no doubt this was not her first brush with gay men. “Not again!
Why is it always the pretty ones?!” She blew kisses to Larry and Jeff before
going to place their orders.

“Are people in the Keys always so
friendly?” Alex asked.

“I wish they were,” Larry lamented.
“Everything’s built up now, and Mom and Pop places like this are disappearing.
We used to drive up here just for the conch fritters. The Marlin's better than
anything in Key
West
,
and lots cheaper too.” He nodded at a television over the
cash register. “That’s new since I was here.”

“Maybe we should turn it on,” Jeff
suggested. “Might learn something about the storm.”

Alex shot Cord a look of panic,
terrified the waitress would tune into CNN. Larry unwittingly saved the moment.
“Aw, those storms are nothing special. They blow up all the time and are gone
before you know it.”

Although nobody admitted it, the
four were still a little shaky after the accident. All were thinking it
could’ve been much worse, especially Larry who’d seen terrible crashes on the
rain-slicked Seven Mile
Bridge. Conversation was spotty as
they speculated about when they’d get a replacement driver and tried to make
the best of a bad situation. An hour and a half later, they wandered back to
the bus and joined others awaiting further instructions. The storm had dumped
high humidity atop ninety-degree temps, but everyone was outside since there
was no air conditioning without the motor running. It wasn’t long before Alex’s
wig began to itch.

“How do people wear these damned
things?” he grumbled. “My scalp’s burning up.”

“Cool it, Alexis,” Cord said,
hoping Jeff didn’t overhear the remark.

“I can’t help it,” Alex hissed back.
“It’s like having an itch you can’t scratch, and what’s more those damned
rednecks are staring again.”

“I told you to forget about those
jerks. Besides, it looks like help has arrived.”

A dark sedan dislodged a man with
Greyhound insignia stitched on his shirt. He approached the disgruntled group confidently, broad smile
aimed at defusing bad news. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience, folks. We’ve
been in touch with the Miami office
and should have a new bus and driver here by
five
o’clock
.” He raised his voice above the chorus of complaints over
the additional six-hour delay. “I’m afraid that’s the best we can do. The storm
flooded part of the highway on Key Largo and we’re
waiting for that to clear. In the meantime, if there’s anything we can do to
make you folks more comfortable—”

Cord had heard enough. “Let’s go,
Alexis.”

“Go where?”

“To use the phone back at the
diner. I’ll call my old man and tell him to come pick us up. Sugarloaf Key’s
only twenty five miles away. After that I’ll drive you down to Key
West.”

“You’d do that for me?” Alex said,
surprised again.

“I've got to keep tabs on you
somehow.” Cord winked. “After all, you owe me for a grilled cheese sandwich and
a lipstick.”

“Aren’t you ever serious?”

“Too much of the time,” Cord
replied.

Alex followed him back to the Blue
Marlin and went into the ladies room while Cord used the phone. He was
readjusting his wig in the mirror when images sharpened behind him that chilled
his heart. He kicked his voice as high as it would go without cracking.

“I’m afraid you gentlemen are in
the wrong restroom.”

“We ain’t
the only ones!”

19

Thumbs Up!

Alex smelled them as soon as he saw
them. The two rednecks radiated stale body odor, and the skinny one’s grin
revealed a row of randomly missing teeth. His porcine buddy was even more
repulsive with bits of food stuck in his scraggly beard. Alex could almost hear
Jolie asking if this was an open call for
Deliverance II
.

“Quint here recognized you back in Jacksonville,”
the fat one said. “What with that wig and all, I wasn’t so sure until I seen
you myself on the teevee back in Miami.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking
about—”

He grunted and scratched his left
nipple. “Cut the crap, Mr. Rich Kid. We know who you are.”

“And we know what you’re worth,”
Quint added. His scowl and beady eyes reminded Alex of a snake. “Don’t we,
Burt?”

“Yup. According to CNN, that’s
about one hundred grand.”

Alex sagged against the basin,
barely feeling the cold porcelain against his butt as he learned his father had
upped the reward to $100,000. Just when Key West
had loomed close it was about to be yanked out of reach. His mind raced with
what to do next but came up empty.

The pair was squarely between him
and the only door.

“Okay then. What do you want?”

Quint sneered. “The fucking money,
that’s what. And if you play nice, nobody will get hurt.” He moved closer. “You
can start by taking off the wig.”

“Get away from me!”

“Gimme that fucking wig!” Quint
demanded, snatching at Alex’s head.

Alex dodged and bolted sideways into
the restroom’s only stall. It was an old metal model with a firm lock, and Alex
quickly slid the bolt. He squatted low on the toilet when Quint overturned the
waste can and climbed on top in an effort to grab him.

“Faggot!” he snarled, reaching over
the stall. “C’mere!”

Alex’s response was to scream at
the top of his lungs. “Help! Rape! Someone help me! Help! Rape!!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

While Quint angled from above, Burt
hit the floor with a fat plop and was groping under the stall when the restroom
door burst open. Cord led the rescue effort, followed by Larry, Jeff and two
more bodybuilders, and suddenly the small ladies room overflowed with bulging
biceps and flying fists. Larry and Jeff yanked Quint from the wastebasket and
jammed him in a corner while their buddies rolled Burt over and pinned him on
his back, helpless as a turtle. No match for so much brute strength, the
rednecks struggled and cursed but couldn’t break free. Jeff took special glee
in turning the waste can upside down and planting it on Quint’s head, while
Larry silenced Burt with a wad of dirty paper towels in the mouth.

Body surging with adrenaline, Cord
barely controlled the urge to kick in the last of Burt’s teeth. “Shove those
assholes in the stall and keep them there while I call the cops!” He pounded fiercely on the stall door. “C’mon, Alexis! Let’s go! Now!!”

Alex flattened himself against the
sink as the rednecks were crammed into the stall. “You okay, girlfriend?” Jeff
asked.

“Fine!” Alex called as Cord herded
him out the restroom door. “Thanks guys!”

“Yeah, thanks!” Cord yelled. Back
in the restaurant, he paused just long enough to scoop his duffle bag and calm
the terrified waitresses. Rayette and Charlene had heard Alex’s cries of rape
and were white with fear. “Everything’s under control, ladies. We’ve called the
cops, and until they get here I’m afraid the ladies room is
occupado.
”
He bowed low and blew them a collective kiss. “Adios!”

Alex pondered this bizarre Zorro
behavior and struggled to keep up as Cord jogged a hundred yards past the
restaurant. He followed him behind a tractor trailer, bewildered when Cord
tossed him the rainbow cap. “Ditch the wig and tuck your curls under this.”

“But what—?”

“The sweatshirt too.” When Alex
stared dumbly, Cord grabbed the sweatshirt and tugged it over his head. Alex
was so scared and confused he barely heard Cord’s praise. “Hey, you got a nice
chest, kid. A few months with me and you’d buff up just fine.”
  

Alex was still gaping when Cord
tossed off his tight tee and tucked it in his back pants pocket. This was the
first time Alex had seen his bare chest, and the sight took his breath away.
Cord was even more ripped than he thought, and he couldn’t help wanting to see
the rest of the package. Cord’s orders snapped him back to reality.

“C’mon, babe. Time to get the hell
outta Dodge.”

Alex followed with a barrage of
questions. “Why did we take our shirts off? And what’s this about calling the
cops? What if those rednecks tell everyone—?”

“Just shut up and stick out your
thumb!”

Alex was incredulous. “You mean
hitchhike?”

“You guessed it!” Cord flexed his
big biceps and made his pecs dance. “Didn’t you see that old movie where
Claudette Colbert stops traffic by pulling up her skirt?”

“Sure.
It Happened One Night
.”

“Well, this is the gay version and
what better place to work it than Key West?”

While Cord faced the oncoming
traffic and conjured his best grin, Alex wavered behind and wondered if this
was all a crazy dream. Nothing had made much sense since the bus skidded off
the highway, and the bizarre cast of bodybuilders, rednecks and big-haired
waitresses made him feel like he’d tumbled down another rabbit hole. It was
unsettling to think everything he’d done in his life had led him to this
moment, standing half naked on a Florida
highway with his thumb stuck out and a future as uncertain as the stormy Gulf
weather. He took a deep breath and tried to focus, grateful when a cool ocean
breeze cleared some of the mental cobwebs. The sun felt good too, kissing his
chest and shoulders, and he felt better still when a truck pulled over and the
driver motioned them to climb aboard.

“Jackpot!”
Cord said, flashing the driver a thumbs up. “C’mon, Alex!”

The driver leaned out of the window
as they approached. “Where you guys headed?”

“Sugarloaf,” Cord said.

The guy jerked his head. “Get in.”

Once Alex was sandwiched between
him and Cord, the driver introduced himself as Ramón and said he was headed for
the festivities in Key West. Alex
started to ask if he could ride the whole distance but had second thoughts when
Ramón’s fingers snaked onto his knee and squeezed.

“You guys want to hook up tonight?
I’d be glad to come back up to Sugarloaf.”

Cord thought fast, not wanting to
piss the guy off and lose their ride. “Man, a week ago

I’d have jumped at the chance, but
Kevin and I are on our honeymoon.” He gave Alex a peck on the cheek and winked
at Ramón. “You know how it is.”

“Sure.” Alex was relieved when
Ramón moved his hand away. “I gotta admit I’m disappointed, but, hey! Congratulations!”
 

The rest of the drive was spent
discussing the gay scene in Key West,
but Alex couldn’t stop thinking about Cord’s timely lie about their honeymoon.
Since running away from home, his new world overflowed with men available for
his personal pleasure, delicious packages to be unwrapped and sampled. Until
that moment, he had never considered anything permanent, but Cord’s impromptu
declaration rattled his thinking. He gave Cord a sidelong glance, pretending to
look out the window as they slowed for some congestion on Little Torch Key. The
rugged profile flickering under bright sunlight was only one of the man's many
faces. In the last twenty-four hours, Cord had appeared as battered child,
avenger, savior, tough guy, soft touch and Good Samaritan. The guy might have
been down and out, but he had unhesitatingly bought lunch for a perfect
stranger, not to mention a lipstick. Of all the things Cord had done for him,
Alex considered that simple unselfish act the most touching of all.

Flushed with a rush of gratitude,
it seemed the most natural thing in the world to reach over and take Cord’s
hand.