he cenic ote hriss nder
The Scenic Route
I
E
D
B
ALDWIN
squirmed uncomfortably in the low-slung
bucket of the passenger seat. The rough denim of his jeans
rustled softly against the dark gray leather. He regretted
drinking the rest of his ice tea at the restaurant, especially
with the desolate distances they were driving, but he hated
to leave anything to waste. He hadn’t asked for the last two
refills so technically he shouldn’t have felt compelled to
finish the glass, but their waitress had been friendly and
despite his twenty-eight years he couldn’t escape his
mother’s voice in his head cautioning him not to appear
rude.
“I told you.” If the word smug came with an illustration
in the world’s dictionary, on the page would be the strong
profile of the man sitting in the driver’s seat beside him, his
features barely visible in soft glow from the dashboard.
“I’m not listening,” Ed replied. Ignoring the way his
waistband pinched his belly, he leaned forward and
increased the volume on the CD player. With no gym in his
immediate future, he shouldn’t have eaten that bacon
cheeseburger. He turned his face to stare out the passenger
window at the surrounding blackness. He knew he was
irrational, but any thoughts he had about asking Joe to pull
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over so he could relieve the building pressure were forgotten
as soon as he recognized the knowing tone in Joe’s voice.
“I’m ignoring you.”
Joe reached toward the dashboard and fumbled for the
volume control in turn, Maynard James Keenan fading into
the background with his action. “Ignore me all you want, you
know I’m right. We go through this every time. Why do you
care so much about what people think?”
Rain beat steadily against the windshield of the car, the
wipers moving in a predictable counter rhythm as they
worked to clear the glass. The road shone wetly, dark silk
illuminated by the headlights of their vehicle, the only sign of
life on the tiny, two-lane path cutting through the swath of
forest.
Chicago and its familiar city streets were memories now.
Having reached Michigan’s Upper Peninsula the land of
expressways and neon fast food plazas were many miles
behind. Ed frowned at his reflection, cast on the window by
the low light of interior gauges; his sandy hair had frizzed
from the summer humidity, and despite the close cut,
wanted to curl into an unmanageable clump regardless of
his overuse of product.
He refused to dwell on the double meaning behind Joe’s
words and concentrated instead on his eyes as they
appeared and disappeared in the changing patterns cast by
the lights from the expensive stereo system’s graphic
equalizer. The atmosphere outside the vehicle appeared
heavy and oppressive but was still lighter than the tension
filling the tiny space between them.
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“Are we really going to fight about this?” Ed rubbed his
forehead against his smeary image in the cool glass and
closed his eyes. “Any reason we need to discuss things right
now?”
“Who’s fighting?” Joe asked, his voice dropping to the
overly calm tone Ed understood meant he was holding back.
“I’m just making conversation. You’re the one all prickly and
weird ever since we started this trip.”
“You’re not helping, you know?” Ed knew he was over-
reacting, but he couldn’t stop himself. After a day and a half
of travel, his moodiness kept increasing the closer they got to
their destination. Besides, he hated when Joe refused to
fight back and simply became more rational. Despite Joe’s
passionate nature he managed to stay annoyingly even-
tempered no matter how Ed tried to provoke him. “And don’t
use that tone of voice with me.”
As expected, Joe ignored his sharp reply and plowed on.
“I’m trying to understand what’s going on inside your head.
This is a classic example of the way you act sometimes. I’m
no mind reader, you know. All you have to do is ask for
something and I’ll do it, but you can’t even make yourself
ask me to pull over when you’ve had too much ice tea. Why
is everything with you so hard?”
Ed stared at the small group of billboards off the side of
the road as they drove past and squirmed again as the
constant patter of rain continued to work its torture. The
faded signs were briefly illuminated; a motel, an insurance
company, a gas station claiming the cleanest restrooms of
something he couldn’t read, and yet another antique store
begging them to come visit. They must be close to one of the
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small, rural communities built up around the two-lane road
and then forgotten once the interstates had been expanded.
He knew Joe was waiting for a response, but everything
was stuck inside his head, and even when he did manage to
say something things came out different from what he
intended. He couldn’t imagine trying to explain the Joe the
contradictory mishmash that had been his upbringing, the
reasons he struggled to open up. God, he wished Joe could
read minds. Everything would be a lot easier.
“You used to appreciate that when we first started
dating.” Ed regretted his defensive attempt at deflection as
soon as the words were out of his mouth, but too late to take
them back.
“Fine. Make a joke.” Ed bit his lower lip as Joe
drummed his long fingers on the steering wheel and let a few
miles pass by in silence. “I’m too tired for this. We’re
stopping for the night.”
“Here?” Ed glanced up and realized they had driven out
of the darkness. From the scattered lighting, he guessed they
had entered the outskirts of a small community. “You’re
kidding me, right?”
In answer, Joe pulled over into a parking lot and turned
the key to off. Ed listened to the tick of the cooling engine
and gazed at the flash of neon announcing a vacancy at the
Easy R st M tel. Ed puzzled out the name despite the missing
letters and protested as soon as he took a glimpse past the
sign. “No way. We can’t stay here. This place is a dump.”
Ed watched as Joe slammed the car door behind him,
and ran through the rain toward the office entrance marked
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with a red arrow. “We’re the only car, doesn’t that tell you
anything?” he yelled at Joe’s retreating back.
The tall, outdoor fixture at the end of the parking lot
offered a backdrop of yellowed glare, illuminating the
individual drops of rain. Ed lowered his window and let the
cooler air wash over him, inhaling the mixed aromas of car
exhaust and wet earth. Viewed in the dim light, the motel
resembled a location used in a low-budget horror movie.
Years ago the tiny, individual log cabins nestled in the
backdrop of dark woods had probably been the height of
charming and rustic, but now looked neglected and run
down. Ed listened as the rain hit against the broken
pavement and shivered. This was so not his idea of a good
time. Even as a kid growing up in the U.P. he had
instinctively hated anything to do with the woods and the
inescapable sense that something waited to pounce just out
of his sight. Give him concrete, city lights and a respectable
mugger any day.
“Never separate,” Ed murmured as he rubbed his arms
and raised the window once again. “Isn’t that where things
always go wrong in those movies?”
The clock set into the dashboard blinked as it turned
ten thirty p.m., but the town had already closed up for the
night. He craned his neck past the rain streaming down the
rear window, but saw only a gas station at the end of the
street bright enough to indicate life. “Great.” Ed watched as
the distant fluorescent lighting flickered off above the
pumps. Thinking about the station made him remember how
much iced tea he had drank, and Ed fidgeted in his seat
once again as he wondered what was taking Joe so long.
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With nothing to focus on, Ed’s gaze centered on the
small cabins in front of him. The exterior wood had probably
started life a different color, but age and elements had oddly
darkened the stain instead of lightened, and allowed the
structures to blend into the overgrowth of forest. Ed blinked
and the black shapes swam before him, his imagination
lending the inanimate shadows movement and menacing
purpose. “Screw this,” Ed muttered as he grasped the
interior handle and ducked his head down against the rain.
A short run to the office and Ed gratefully stumbled inside.
The outer screen door loudly smacked closed behind
him, and the lobby smelled musty and old. A tiny space
heater roared to one side of the counter, concentrating the
odor into the air instead of removing the dampness left by
the summer rain. Ed thought of his Aunt Cheryl’s basement,
ripe with the ever-present smell of mildew and dog, and
wondered when the last time the dingy, brown carpet under
his feet had been cleaned. No one waited behind the counter;
the only sign of industry some newspapers scattered across
the top and one of those circular metal bells always visible in
movies, but never in real life. Ed looked around for Joe’s
dark head of hair and brushed the water off his jacket
sleeves.
“Come here.” Joe stood at a wall covered in photographs
to the left of the counter. “This place has been in business
for over forty-five years. Some of these pictures are from the
grand opening.”
“Sure smells like it,” Ed said as the space heater
coughed and died; the red of the glowing wires dulling back
to gray. The mismatched display of chain store frames
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offended his hard-won sense of style and reminded him of
the scattering of pictures along the hallway at his parent’s
house. Little thought had been given to the collection, each
image stuck wherever space allowed, and his fingers itched
against the urge to rearrange them.
Joe gazed at the wall with the same intense fascination
he gave every useless roadside marker he insisted they stop
and read, no pulling him away any time soon. Joe’s
interested voice indicated that his upbeat disposition had
already moved on from their earlier disagreement, and Ed
wished he could as well. But his nagging apprehension
about what lay at the end of the journey left him agitated
and unable to let go of the smallest slight, no matter how
foolish. “Can’t we find somewhere else?”
Joe turned and draped his arm across Ed’s shoulder.
The heavy weight offered warm comfort, and Ed longed to
move closer despite his lingering annoyance. “I just want a
shower and pillow for a few hours.” Joe squeezed Ed up
against his side and leaned over to whisper into his ear.
“Come on, it will be an adventure. We can have hot, no-tell
motel make-up sex.”
“No one’s on duty.” Ed couldn’t pinpoint why he was so
hesitant, but he didn’t like the vibe of the place, even with
Joe’s salacious suggestion. The overhead lights flickered as
the thermostat on the space heater turned the unit back on,
and for a second the two of them stood in darkness. Ed
couldn’t help himself; his heart rate increased and he
wrapped his fingers around the side of Joe’s jacket and
tugged at the wet material. Time for Joe to put his money
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where his mouth was. All Ed had to do was ask? He was
asking. “Let’s go.”
Too late. Joe had already leaned across the counter and
tapped the silver bell twice. The clear chime rang out at the
same time the lights flickered again. Ed tightened his grip
and scooted infinitesimally closer to Joe. He had a bad
feeling about this.
he cenic ote hriss nder
II
“Y
OU
are such an asshole!” Ed exclaimed as he dropped his
bag at the foot of the full-size bed threatening to take over
the small cabin. “I can’t believe you asked if they had a
honeymoon suite.”
Joe laughed and shut the door behind him. “I couldn’t
help myself. You should have seen your face when the guy
came out of the back. I thought you were going to jump out
of your skin.”
“It’s not my fault! He was strange,” Ed said as he
brushed past Joe to turn the deadbolt lock and set the safety
chain for emphasis. “And he didn’t just come out of the
back, he shuffled out of the back. It sounded weird.”
“His slippers were about to fall off, cut him some slack.
At least he was considerate enough to give us a flashlight in
case the power goes out.” Joe raised his arms in classic
movie monster fashion and stumbled his way over to Ed with
a theatrical groan. “Your problem is you’ve watched too
many crappy movies.”
“That’s supposed to be reassuring? Something wasn’t
right about him,” Ed argued. He ignored the erotic brush of
Joe’s mustache as Joe enveloped him in a tight hug and
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pretended to gnaw on his neck while he humped against
Ed’s thigh. “I mean, what was with his outfit anyway? And
did you notice how pale he was?”
“Forget about him, check out this room.” Giving up on
zombie-mode, Joe gleefully swung Ed around so the two of
them faced the interior. Ed paused as he took in the full
impact of the decor. Thankfully, it didn’t smell like the lobby.
“Wow,” Ed said, his grumpiness no match for his
begrudging awe. “I think they used this on one of those Who
Loves the ’60s shows. Is that honestly shag?”
Not only was the carpet a faded turquoise, but the
bedspread and curtains were a matching shade of worn and
patchy velour. Peel and stick mirrors covered the entire wall
behind the headboard and reflected the silver circle print of
the wallpaper on the surface directly opposite. Someone had
found room to stuff a vinyl card table into the small space,
and two steel-legged chairs completed the unique appeal.
“This must be an antique.” Joe sat down on the bed and
gave the mattress an experimental bounce as he flicked the
metal switch on the nightstand’s lamp. “Maybe everything in
here is. How about that phone? Amazing.” He pushed the
pillows into a mound behind him and leaned back with an
inviting smile, patting the bed beside him as he stroked his
fingers down the sides of his mustache. “Mirrors, Ed.
Mirrors.”
“Not a chance, Romeo,” Ed replied, trying not to respond
to Joe’s excitement. “I’m still mad at you. Besides, I need to
check out the facilities.” He pointed a finger toward Joe to
temper his rising enthusiasm. “I’m warning you right now,
I’d better not discover anything growing in there.”
he cenic ote hriss nder
T
HREE
glasses of iced tea was never a good idea, and not
even
the
overabundance
of
mismatched
mini
tiles
overwhelming the minute space or the sound of Joe neighing
like a horse right outside distracted Ed from his mission.
Only after he zipped back up could he gather together
enough brain cells to appreciate the small bathroom.
Crazy as it seemed, the only way to reach the toilet had
been to shut the door as some idiot had hung the fixture so
you opened in instead of out. He heard Joe whistling as he
poked around in the other room and a smile crossed his
face. His boyfriend might drive him nuts, but Ed truly did
love him and had ever since the over-active weekend warrior
had showed up at the physical therapy clinic where Ed
worked.
The enthusiastic decorator had carried the turquoise
color scheme into the bathroom, and Ed knew he couldn’t
leave without photographic evidence. Their friends would
never believe this place. Despite the age of the motel the tub
only had a few rust stains, not nearly as bad as Ed had
feared, and some of his tension drained away. Maybe it
wasn’t such a bad idea to take a break for the night. His
parents weren’t expecting them until tomorrow and he
welcomed a shower even if he would have preferred a brand-
name hotel. The reality was once off the expressway they left
those behind as well.
The television was on when he opened the door; the
screen scrolling snowy static. Joe fumbled with the ancient,
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rabbit ears antenna positioned on top of the set. “Can you
believe how old this thing is?” Joe asked excitedly. “No
remote.”
“I told you the trip would be a step back in time.” Ed
shook his head at his boyfriend’s juvenile enjoyment even as
he admired the taut curve of his jeans-clad ass. “I just didn’t
know you’d like it so much.”
“I’m not saying this is how I want to live, but the whole
back-to-the-past thing is kind of neat in small doses.” Joe
straightened one of the metal poles and stepped to the side
to judge his lack of success. “You really going to tell me
there’s no cable or satellite television up here in the
boonies?”
“Not at down on the luck roadside motels. Which, may I
remind you, you chose?” Ed glanced around for the bags.
“Where’s the camera?”
Joe immediately struck a pose; showing his lean muscle
to advantage and making Ed shake his head and think
about the cheeseburger he shouldn’t have had once again.
Hard to believe he spent his workday on his feet while Joe
sat behind a desk. Sometimes life wasn’t fair. “Now you’re
talking,” Joe leered at Ed and smacked his lips together.
“Gimme some sugar, baby.”
“You’re a dork, Joe Sutton.” Ed couldn’t help but groan
at the line from one of his favorite movies, the last lingering
bits of their earlier argument forgotten.
“But I’m your dork,” Joe said. “I knew I’d make you
smile, give me a few more minutes and let’s see what else
you’ll do for me.”
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“After your shower,” Ed replied. “And I’m sorry for being
so pissy earlier. Really.”
Joe immediately walked away from the television and
came over to where Ed was standing. “It’s not like you didn’t
warn me. I know this is difficult for you.” He pressed his lips
gently against Ed’s, a chaste, unspoken acceptance of Ed’s
apology. “Besides, I’m happy I’m finally going to get a chance
to meet your family. It will be fascinating to discover where
you picked up your bad habits.”
Ed wrapped his arms around Joe’s waist and let himself
relax for the first time since they started the trip. He loved
Joe, and it wasn’t fair to take his nervousness out on him.
Despite his parent’s example, Ed was determined not to have
a volatile relationship based on mutual insecurity, and Joe
did everything he could to help. “Promise you won’t leave me
once you get the root of my neurosis?” he murmured against
Joe’s broad chest. He might have been making a joke. Or
not.
“It took me forever to get you to agree to go out, and
three months before you moved in with me. You’re the best
thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m not letting you go
even if your folks end up kissing cousins to the weirdo at the
front desk.” Joe held one hand up in an effort to appear
solemn despite his other palm inching down to fondle Ed’s
ass. “I swear.”
“I knew it!” Ed stepped back and glared. “You thought
he was weird too.”
“Are you kidding me?” Joe reached under the bed and
pulled out one of the bags he had brought in from the car.
he cenic ote hriss nder
“He was definitely more than a few cards short of a full
deck.”
Ed stared as Joe dumped the contents of the bag out
onto the bed and rummaged through the resulting mess
before he finally gave in and asked Ed. “Did you remember
pack my favorite shorts?”
“Yes, dear,” Ed rolled his eyes. “Except your stuff is in
the navy bag. That’s my stuff you’ve rubbed all over that
gross bedspread.”
Ed regretted his words as soon as he recognized the
spark of interest in Joe’s eyes. “Too bad we don’t have one of
those black lights, like they do on the news shows.” Joe
looked thoughtful. “We could shine it over the bed and
discover exactly how gross is gross.”
“Stop. Now.” Ed pointed to the bathroom. “Shower, and
then maybe, and only maybe, if you promise to keep your
mouth shut, there might be something resembling sex.” He
shook his head as Joe exaggeratedly pantomimed zipping his
lips together and throwing the key over his shoulder before
he grabbed his toiletry bag and tiptoed into the bathroom.
Moments after the door closed, the shower started.
“Great.” Ed grunted at the mess on the bed and tried
not to think about the possible contaminants spread over his
clothes. He consoled himself with the knowledge the motel
wasn’t a booming business. That, and the first thing he was
going to do once they reached his parent’s house was hit the
laundromat in town.
Ed sat heavily down on the bed next to his clothes as he
let the reality of the trip sweep over him. Joe might not have
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been Ed’s first boyfriend, but he was the one Ed felt
important, permanent enough to introduce to his family. Oh
God, he was taking his boyfriend home to meet his parents.
How had Joe talked him into this? What was he thinking?
The telephone beside the bed rang before Ed had a chance to
really freak out. He stared at it in surprise and then lifted
the handle. “Hello?”
At first all Ed heard was static. “Hello?” he repeated.
The static increased and Ed held the phone away from his
ear with a grimace. The only person who would be calling
was the guy at the front desk, and Ed couldn’t think of any
conversation he wanted to have with him, even if it was just
the “can you move your car” variety. “I can’t understand
you.”
Before Ed could hang up, the distortion lessened and
over the garbled electronic signal came a faint whisper. The
words were twisted enough that Ed couldn’t tell if the voice
was male or female, but some of it was clear. “—can’t fool
me—”
“Jesus!” Ed blurted as he dropped the phone back into
the cradle. He rubbed his arms and glanced nervously
around the small cabin, shocked by the viciousness
underlying the few syllables. Things don’t look quite as
amusing as they had only moments before, and Ed
remembered his early unease in the parking lot, the
darkness and the shadows dancing with a life of their own.
It was still raining outside. Ed listened, realizing he
couldn’t hear the shower anymore. He took a deep breath
and told himself not to be ridiculous; this was exactly the
kind of thing Joe would do for a laugh. Ed quickly walked
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over and pushed the bathroom door in until it smacked
against the tub.
“That wasn’t funny.” Ed was surprised at how much he
was shaking.
“What?” Joe poked his suds-covered head around the
shower curtain in surprise. “Something wrong?”
“You turned the water off,” Ed said in confusion as he
looked in vain for Joe’s cell phone. “That wasn’t you on the
telephone?”
Joe gestured at himself. “Shower, remember? Hey, I’m
not sure how much hot water we’re going to have, here.” Joe
grinned and pulled the flowered curtain back with a flourish.
“You want to join me? We can be eco-friendly.”
“What?” Ed stared at him for a second, distracted by the
memory of the whispering voice. “I don’t think there’s room
for both of us.”
“Suit yourself.” Joe shrugged before he turned the water
back on and stuck his head under the thin stream. Ed
couldn’t help but stare as Joe closed his eyes against the
spray. Not even a freaky phone call could trump the sight of
Joe naked, lathered up, and on obvious display. Ed let
himself follow the trail left by one of the translucent rivulets
of water as it flowed down the length of Joe’s chest. The
liquid carved a path through the white foam, exposing the
bare skin and dark swirls of hair to Ed’s increasingly
interested gaze and drawing his attention much lower.
The splash on his face took him by surprise and the
strange call was pushed away as Ed jerked his head back
up, too late to duck as Joe sprayed him with water. Ed
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narrowed his eyes but Joe grinned like a fool, obviously
happy at having caught his attention once again. Knowing
what was to come, Ed held up his hands in a protest quickly
overruled by the warm press of Joe’s lips to his. By the time
Ed was pulled fully clothed under the spray he was too
distracted to care about anything around him, not even
when his shin smacked into the side of the tub.
he cenic ote hriss nder
III
T
HIS
time when Ed heard the rain soft and muted against
the outside of the cabin, the sound was a gentle, cooling
counterpoint to the heated sensations building within him.
He’d forgotten the pile of wet clothes now soaking into the
shag carpeting, the phone call, the ridiculously small size of
the room, and even the questionable state of the bed he lay
sprawled upon. All his attention stayed focused on Joe’s lips
and the sweet torture of the moment.
His hands clutched at Joe’s back; sliding down firm
muscle damp with sweat and drops of water that hadn’t yet
rubbed off onto Ed’s flesh. He remembered why he liked
summer so much: the heat and humidity heavy in the air
between them, despite the way they had shivered from the
shower to the bed long after the hot water had run out. Ed
had no problem letting the slow, sensual friction of skin
against skin continue, intent on riding the motion to
completion. He gasped Joe’s name into his collarbone and
shifted under the heavy crush of his body when Joe raised
up and stilled.
“Joe—” Ed bit out his protest, the name trailing off to a
rough groan as Joe let his hand travel down between them
before taking hold of Ed’s hard length. “Oh God.” Ed couldn’t
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help the way his hips strained upward, the way his body
bowed up off the bed at the gentle squeeze.
“You like that?” Joe whispered into Ed’s ear, his breath
as warm and moist as the summer rain against Ed’s neck as
his hand began its smooth and sinuous movement. His
weight pressed Ed’s body back down, trapping his arm
between them. “You like when I do that?”
Ed let his head fall, pressing into the pillow, air
escaping his lips in harsh pants. “You know I do.” He loved
how Joe knew what got him off, how warm and safe he felt
when surrounded by his lover, all of his senses filled with an
essence purely Joe. He traced down the curve of Joe’s spine,
letting his palm collect the liquid pooled in the hollows above
his hips. Ed grunted as he shifted against Joe’s weight,
maneuvering his own hand between them and finding the
heated silk of Joe’s cock to return the caress. “How about
you?”
“Oh, I like it.” Joe leaned down for another kiss, this one
deeper and slower than the one before, full of promise and
wonderfully dirty intent. Lips clung, slick with saliva, and
they breathed into each other’s mouth, hands moving in
synchronized pleasure.
Ed couldn’t hear the rain anymore, only the harsh
rhythm of their breath and the slippery wet sound of
lubricated flesh sliding over flesh. He shut his eyes and
concentrated on the feeling, the firm grasp of Joe’s hand and
the way his stomach tightened each time Joe’s knuckles
brushed against him. He needed to come and knew Joe did
as well. He sensed the tension building in them both, and
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the muscles in his legs and ass clenched as he fought to
hold back.
“Open your eyes.” Joe’s voice was rough, the command
rasping across Ed’s nerve endings. “You have to open your
eyes and tell me. Do you want to come like this?” Joe
tightened his fingers and rubbed his thumb along the
underside of Ed’s cock. “Or would you rather come in my
mouth?”
Ed was gone. He choked, imagining how it would feel,
remembering the moist heaven of Joe’s mouth. The way he
spilled out over Joe’s tongue onto his lips and face. Ed
groaned and lost himself in the white haze of sensation,
barely conscious of Joe’s helpless thrusting into his loosened
fist or the mingled pool of fluid between them as Joe rolled
off and collapsed by his side.
Ed lay there; his eyes shut, his heart pounding, ears
ringing with Joe’s final, satisfied shout. For the first time in a
week he was totally at peace. At least until Joe poked him in
the ribs.
“Selfish.” The words might have had more impact if Ed
couldn’t hear the lazy pleasure in Joe’s voice.
“Afterglow,” Ed murmured. He kept his eyes closed, but
managed to lift a finger and poke Joe in retaliation. “Glow
now, complain later.”
Joe snorted and curled up against Ed’s side. He grabbed
the edge of the top sheet and pulled it toward him, using the
corner to wipe them both down before he tucked his face into
Ed’s neck and they settled together in familiar comfort.
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“Who’s complaining? I just really wish we had one of those
black lights right about now.”
T
HE
telephone rang, the noise loud and grating over Joe’s
easily recognizable snoring. Ed groaned and stretched his
arm out. His hand flailed in empty space until he woke up
enough to realize where he was. “Joe,” he grunted. “Phone.”
Joe snorted and peeled himself away Ed’s side, leaving a
cold spot behind. Ed grumbled in complaint and reached for
the blankets. Joe jostled the bed as he fumbled for the
nightstand and turned the lamp on. “Urgh.” Ed protested the
painful bloom of light that seared across his eyes and rolled
away, pressing his face down into the pillow.
“Hello?” Joe yawned as he answered the phone. “Hello?”
He hung up and patted Ed heavily on the hip. “No one, just a
bunch of static.”
“What?” Ed quickly sat upright, wide awake now.
“Again?”
Settling himself against the headboard, Joe wiped his
hand across his face and scratched at his chest hair. “What
do you mean ‘again’?”
“I told you earlier,” Ed said. “When you were in the
shower. I thought you were screwing around.”
“I guess I was distracted.” Joe smiled at the memory and
started trailing his fingers up Ed’s blanket-covered leg. “I
might be a little distracted again right now.”
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“Joe—” Ed pushed at the hand now resting on his thigh.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Joe leaned closer and brushed his mustache
across Ed’s ear. “Can you believe I forgot all about the
mirrors?”
The phone rang again before they were too deep into
their discussion and both of them turned to glare at the
instrument.
“This is weird.” Ed announced as he looked around their
small cabin as if looking for something or someone to explain
what was happening. “No one even knows we’re here.”
“There’s always the guy from the front desk.” Joe
smirked at Ed. “Maybe he’s got a crush on you. It wouldn’t
be the first time you were a creep magnet.”
“Don’t be disgusting.” Ed said. “What time is it anyway?”
“Early,” Joe yawned. “Too early for creepy stalkers.”
The phone continued to ring.
“Screw it,” Joe said, and picked up the handset once
again. “Hello?” He covered the mouthpiece and whispered,
“Static” over to Ed, who made a hanging up motion with his
hand.
“It’s probably some kind of malfunction in the circuit.”
Joe said. “What did you hear when you answered?”
Ed shivered as he remembered the distorted voice.
“Something that wasn’t any malfunction. This is getting
freaky.”
he cenic ote hriss nder
Instead of answering, Joe pressed his finger up against
Ed’s lips and held it steady, cautioning him to silence.
“Listen,” he whispered.
The rain had finally stopped, and in the sudden stillness
between them Ed heard what had caught Joe’s attention.
The noise was solid, kind of a repetitive thunk, and oddly
familiar. “What is that?” He whispered back to Joe and
strained, listening. Nothing to hear but the steady thunk,
thunk, thunk. Over and over again. Ed reached out and
grabbed Joe’s arm. “What the hell is that?”
This time when the phone rang Ed didn’t bother looking
at Joe. He got up off the bed and pulled their bags out from
under the bed.
“What are you doing?” Joe hissed.
“What does it look like?” Ed grabbed some dry clothes
out of his bag and threw them on the bed. “We’re leaving.”
He walked into the small bathroom and gathered up the
personal items still on the sink.
“Do you know what time it is?” Joe asked from his
sheet-wrapped seat on the bed. He had to raise his voice over
the constant ringing of the phone.
“This is me telling you I don’t care.” Dressed, Ed picked
up his wet clothes where Joe had thrown them earlier and
wrapped the soggy items in a towel from the motel before
shoving the bundle into his bag. Management was free to bill
him for the missing linen, right after he gave them an earful.
“I didn’t want to stay here in the first place and it’s not like
we’re going to be able to get any sleep with the damn phone
ringing every ten minutes.” Ed’s angry words echoed in the
he cenic ote hriss nder
sudden quiet of the room, and then the strange noise from
outside started again. That was it. “Joe, trust me when I tell
you there’s no way you can talk me out of leaving here.”
Joe got out of the bed and walked naked over to the tiny
window. He pulled aside a portion of the velour curtain and
peered out into the dark. “Grab me some clothes, will you,
Ed?” he asked casually.
“What do you see?” Ed crowded up behind him. “You’ve
never given in so easy before.”
Instead of answering Joe dropped the curtain and
pushed Ed back toward the bed. He reached for his cell
phone on the nightstand and opened it up, squinting at the
display. “No signal.” Ed nervously watched as Joe picked up
the motel phone and held the handset up to his ear.
“Nothing.” Joe dressed as quickly as Ed had, balancing on
one leg as he shoved his bare feet into his sneakers.
“I didn’t get you any socks,” Ed muttered. “Do you want
any socks?”
Joe gathered up the bags and gave Ed a quick hug and
a kiss on the cheek. “I’m okay without socks. Now, I want
you to listen to me, okay?”
Ed nodded, dazed from lack of sleep and confusion and
disturbed by Joe’s suddenly serious attitude. They were the
same height but right then Joe seemed somehow taller, and
much more in control. “Sure.”
“I’m going to open the door and unlock the car. I want
you to get in the car. Can you do that for me?” Joe’s brown
eyes stared intently into Ed’s. “Don’t look around, don’t give
me a hard time, just get in the car.”
he cenic ote hriss nder
“Sure.” Ed repeated. If it meant they were going to get
out of here, he was all for following Joe’s instructions. He’d
let Joe tease him later. Ed refused to acknowledge how
nervous Joe’s behavior was making him.
“I love you.” With another quick kiss, Joe opened the
door to the cabin and stared out into the parking lot. Ed
followed behind him, only to stiffen when the phone in their
room started to ring once again.
“Never mind.” Joe said. He grabbed at Ed’s arm and
urged him toward the car. “Ignore it.”
The air was cool; full of fog left over from the rain
clinging to the ground and hovering ghostlike about their
waists before dissipating into the air. Ed shivered and tried
not to fixate on the woods, dark and eerie in the early
morning. The car was coated in a layer of moisture and once
he had it started, Joe turned on the wipers as he backed
away from the cabin, his eyes intent.
Despite his promise to Joe, Ed had to look behind them
as they pulled out of the lot, headlights shining on the black
pools of water puddled on the asphalt. He couldn’t see the
neon sign he had stared at earlier, but through the moisture
smeared on the windows he thought he saw something else.
Something impossible. “Joe?”
Joe gave a shaky laugh and reached out, giving Ed’s
thigh a gentle squeeze. “We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
With a final glance Ed turned his face to the front and
tried to clear his mind. Back when he was a child, a
neighboring family had given approval for the county fire
department to burn down their decrepit barn as a training
he cenic ote hriss nder
exercise. Once he was older he used to walk past the
remains on his way to school. He still remembered how the
site had fascinated him, the way the grass had grown up
around the debris and the way it smelled after a hard rain.
The broken, charred timber and chunks of concrete ageless
evidence of fire’s destructive power. Ed told himself it was
the fog, but he couldn’t so easily erase the ruined motel
behind them, a mirror image of the wreckage familiar from
his youth.
he cenic ote hriss nder
IV
T
HE
diner was a welcome sight breaking past the fog of the
morning, all bright lights and normality in one wood, brick
and glass structure. Alerted by the chime under the
doormat, the salt- and pepper-haired woman behind the
counter waved at them when they paused inside the door,
breathing deep the aroma of bacon and toast. A seat-yourself
kind of place, empty due to the early hour. They sat down at
a booth next to the front windows, and Ed fidgeted with the
silverware on the table. Joe reached out and placed his palm
over Ed’s hand, and, after a deep breath, Ed stilled.
“’Morning, you two.” Their waitress was on the
downward side of fifty, overweight but still active on her feet,
willing to smile as she filled the overturned coffee cups. She
wore a pale yellow apron and matching cardigan, and her
broad face was as bright and open as the diner. Ed’s
uncertainty started to melt away at her cheerful greeting.
“I’m Doreen and I’ll be taking care of you today. What brings
you by Shingleton before the sun’s even up?”
“Just passing through on our way to Munising,” Joe
replied as he automatically pushed the bowl of individual
creamers toward Ed and pulled the small, laminated menus
out from behind the napkin folders.
he cenic ote hriss nder
“Come off the Seney Stretch, did you?” She set the
coffeepot on the table beside them and dug around in the
front pocket of her apron before taking out an old-fashioned
order pad. “Now that road’s a long line of nothing. They say
it’s the longest bit of curveless highway east of the
Mississippi.”
It took three creamers to lighten the mug of coffee to
Ed’s preference, and he stirred carefully while Joe continued
to make nice with their waitress. Ed glanced up, and she
nodded at him encouragingly, like she might a small child.
Ed wondered how strange he must look.
“At least the rain’s starting to clear. We should be in for
some sun today and it’s about time.” She pushed her short
hair off her face and shifted her hips, obviously in no hurry
to get back to work. “You’ve got that road-weary look. Rough
night?”
“You’ve no idea,” Joe answered before Ed could think of
anything to say that didn’t sound too far out there. “We’ll
probably need a lot more coffee.”
“Coffee, I have plenty of. This hour of the shift it’s
usually just me and Al in the kitchen, and I got to tell you,
we’re both pretty coffee’d out.” She pointed her pen at Joe.
“You guys took your time deciding you were coming in. For a
minute I thought you were one of my ex-husbands turned
creepy stalker.”
Their orders placed for the breakfast special, Doreen
stayed busy filling the salt shakers at the front counter. Ed
settled back against his bench seat and cradled his hot mug
in his hands. He looked up and met Joe’s eyes and before he
he cenic ote hriss nder
knew it the two of them burst into laughter, shedding their
disbelief without words.
“I can’t take you anywhere.” Joe finally stopped laughing
long enough to catch his breath. “What is it about you and
creepy stalkers?”
“You should know,” Ed wiped the almost hysterical tears
from his eyes. “I bagged you, didn’t I?” He was happy they
had broken their silence. Neither of them had known what to
say during the hurried drive away from the motel.
“Christ.” Joe shook his head and reached for his own
coffee. “There isn’t anything your parents can throw at us
after this we won’t be able to handle.”
“You’re the one who wanted an adventure,” Ed couldn’t
help but point out. “What did you say when we planned the
trip, something about taking the scenic route, experiencing
the unexpected?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of staying away
from the usual tourist attractions, especially after you made
me stop at Sea Shell City before we crossed the bridge.”
Doreen interrupted with their food, and the two of them
dug into the greasy platters with gusto.
“She’ll think we’ve haven’t eaten in a week.” Joe used
his last bit of toast to chase after any escaping egg yolk,
finishing it in one bite before he sat back, content. “But,
damn, that was good.”
“They say you appreciate things better after an
adrenaline rush.” Ed yawned, tired again now his belly was
full. Apparently his surge was over.
he cenic ote hriss nder
“You guys need a line on a motel for a rest?” Doreen was
back with more coffee and pushed their plates off to the side.
“No!” Both Ed and Joe replied at the same time and she
gave them a funny look before she grabbed herself a mug
from the next table and filled it up to the brim.
“Hope you don’t mind, I’m due for a break,” she
announced as she pulled a chair over and sat down at the
end of their booth. “I need to get off my feet, and old Al and I
have had ten years’ more conversation than we ever needed.”
Once assured her company was welcome, Doreen
started off on a long ramble about the area, spilling local
gossip and sharing some of the Upper Peninsula’s history.
Upon learning Ed had grown up in Munising, she
encouraged him to join in, dragging forgotten childhood
memories to the surface. Joe kept his eyes on them both
with the same excitement he showed when watching The
History Channel, and Ed took comfort in his safe and
familiar expression.
“So why are you guys called ‘Yoopers’ anyway.” Joe
asked Doreen in between breaths. “I’ve never understood
that.”
“He’s from Chicago.” Ed pointed out gently, and Doreen
nodded her head in sympathy.
“All a matter of phonetics.” She patted Joe on the hand
and took out her order pad. They watched as she ripped out
one of the sheets, placing it face down on the table. “Watch
and learn,” she chided with a wink. “First, think about where
we are, here in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.” With large,
looping letters she wrote the last three words out on the
he cenic ote hriss nder
back of the order slip. “Then you have to understand how
hard it is for you big city types to wrap your fast-talking lips
around a mouthful like that.” She crossed out the first and
the last word and pointed her pen at the one that remained.
“Now, you just pretend it’s one of them vanity license plates
and sound it out.”
Joe pulled the slip across the table and studied it
carefully. Ed tried not to laugh at his expression. Doreen’s
dry wit and casual manner were exactly what they needed to
shake the unease from earlier.
A short, gray-haired man in a flannel shirt came out of
the back. He gestured to the cigarette pack in his hand,
indicating he was going for a smoke and walked out the side
door. Doreen checked her watch and groaned. “No rest for
the wicked. I swear.”
Joe frowned. “So soon?” he asked, and Doreen laughed.
“Not like there’s a rush, but it will come. I should get
back to work when Al’s done polluting the air.”
“How long have you worked here?” Ed asked, curious.
“Close to thirty years,” Doreen replied with obvious
satisfaction. “I’d been working as a motel maid over by Seney
since I graduated, and the place burned right down to the
ground twenty-nine years ago yesterday.” She shook her
head. “Horrible tragedy.”
“Really?” Joe said. “What happened?”
Doreen shifted in her seat and leaned forward, not that
there was anyone else to overhear. “Times were different. Not
as loose as they are now. We had our regulars, if you know
what I mean. Not just tourists, people needing a close and
he cenic ote hriss nder
discreet place to conduct themselves. The motel was more
private than most, had little cabins instead of rooms right
next to each other.”
Ed and Joe both nodded their understanding. They were
transfixed by the low intensity of Doreen’s voice and the
obvious meaning her story had for her.
“Used to be a couple came in, once a week like
clockwork. Stayed the night and left. I never thought
anything of it. Well, I did, but it wasn’t my business. They
actually tipped. Not too many people did, and I always made
sure to leave extra towels, that kind of thing. Turns out they
were married, just not to each other, of course. The woman’s
husband got suspicious and followed her until they say he
drove himself crazy. He’d walk into the office and make the
manager dial their room again and again.” Doreen paused
and took a drink, grimacing at the now cold liquid.
“Well, turns out he didn’t take too kindly to what he
found, and one night he chopped his wife and her love both
into little bits with an ax, can you imagine? Did Mr. and Mrs.
Pierson too. The manager and his wife, he killed them first
and set the place on fire to cover his tracks.” Doreen
shuddered and wiped at her eyes. Her emotions brought
home to Ed that this wasn’t just a story, she had cared
about these people. He found it easy to image her as a young
woman happy to find steady work despite any moral
misgiving, so vivid were her descriptions.
“I feel bad to admit it now, but I was glad he burned it
all. I was scheduled early that same morning, I would have
walked in and found them like that.”
he cenic ote hriss nder
“Oh, God.” Joe murmured, as caught up in the story as
Ed was. “You read about this stuff, but don’t imagine it
really happens.”
“Something went wrong though and he didn’t get out.
Died right in the office where he’d killed the Piersons.” Even
after all this time there was still bitter satisfaction in
Doreen’s voice and Ed didn’t think he could blame her. “They
say that place is haunted though. Supposedly his soul can
never leave. Just keeps showing up on the anniversary of his
death, looking for his wife and her lover.”
Her voice had lowered during the last part and trailed
off to nothing. Ed and Joe sat in rapt silence until the chime
startled them. All three jumped when the door swung open
and Al walked back into the restaurant. “What?” he asked
grumpily, and then he saw their faces. “You telling that old
Easy Rest Motel story again, Doreen?” He shook his head.
“Those folks will never rest in peace as long as you keep
dragging up that sorry business.”
‘He’s right you know. I didn’t mean to carry on.” Doreen
got heavily to her feet and picked up the forgotten pot of
coffee and the twenty Joe had placed on the table to cover
their meal and her tip. “Thanks for the company, always a
pleasure meeting new folks. Make sure you stop back by on
your way home.” She smiled and then paused before she
walked away, apparently struck by their frozen postures.
“You two all right?”
“Yeah.” Ed cleared his throat and avoided any eye
contact with Joe as they stood. “We’re fine. Nice to meet you,
Doreen.”
he cenic ote hriss nder
Ed didn’t care what Doreen or Al might think, he held
tightly to Joe’s hand on their way out of the diner and sat
speechless in the car.
“What are you thinking?” Ed finally broke the silence
between them. “Are we crazy?”
“Hell, I don’t know,” Joe shook his head. “What are you
thinking?”
Ed stared down at their tightly clenched fingers. He
didn’t have any explanation, and didn’t know if he ever
would. What he did have was Joe. That was good enough for
him. “Honestly?” Ed replied. “Next time we travel, I pick the
motel.”
et more stories from
The Dreamspinner Press 2010 Daily Dose
package of thirty stories is available at
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About the Author
The joke in
C
HRISSY
M
UNDER
’s family is that she was born
with a book in her hand. Even now, you’ll never find her
without a book or seven scattered about. Forced to become a
practicing realist in an effort to combat her tendency to
dream, her many years of travel and a diverse assortment of
careers have taken her across most of the United States and
shown her that there are two things you can never have
enough of: love and laughter.
Visit her web site at http://www.chrissymunder.com/ and
her blog at http://chrissymunder.livejournal.com/. Friend
her at http://www.facebook.com/chrissymunder and follow
her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/ChrissyMunder.
Find more stories by
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HRISSY
M
UNDER
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REAMSPINNER
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Copyright
The Scenic Route ©Copyright Chrissy Munder, 2010
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
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Suite 244-149
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http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the
authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Paul Richmond http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com
Cover Design by Mara McKennen
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Released in the United States of America
June 2010
eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-501-2