Secret Santa Gift For Serialbathera
Title: Edge Of Antares
Author: M. Elizabeth Ravensblood
Rating: R, minor language and sexuality
Pairing: George/Rich
Summary: Pre-Series. On the brink on signing his deal with the FBI, George meets Rich and both their lives change.
Author's Notes: This is for serialbathera for the profiler_fans Secret Santa Exchange. I hope you'll like and that I did justice to this pairing :o) Special thanks to my beta, jackssilverwolf. There are a couple additonal author notes at the end of the story, I didn't wish to clutter the page up :o)
"This is not my fucking day!" Rich swore as his cell phone showed no bars.
The day had started off badly when he was called into work at 7 AM and gotten progressively worse ever since. His boss had given him a large project that would take two people at least a week, but he'd asked Rich to complete it before the end of the next week on his own. At two, he was on his way out the door when his boss asked if he would do him a favor and deliver some papers to one of his executives that couldn't wait until Monday. Annoyed but wanting to seem like a team player, he'd pasted on a smile and taken the papers. He drove to the address his boss gave, an upscale apartment building in downtown Atlanta. The executive didn't answer when Rich knocked. Unable to complete his task, he decided to go home but when he got outside, his car was gone.
Legally parked and having not had a single ticket in over five years, Rich knew it been stolen. Walking several steps, he tried his cell phone once more in vain. Slamming it shut, he looked around for any signs of a payphone. Although there were a number of businesses in the area. they were all the nine to five sort and showed no signs of life. Zipping his coat up, Rich started walking. There was a police station a few miles away. He would make his report and call a cab from there, if he didn't find a pay phone along the way.
******
George looked at his watch nervously as he waited to be called in for his meeting with John Grant. The Atlanta P.D. detective had interceded on his behalf with Special Agent Bailey Malone for the FBI and the two had worked out a deal for him. Today he would hear the terms and then he would have to make a decision. On the one hand, getting away from Cahill O'Connor and his group of thugs would be a welcome reprieve. However, he wasn't sure that working for Atlanta P.D. would give him the rush he craved. George had worked in the private sector for a number of years and had rapidly grown bored with the lack of challenge it presented. Hacking had an excitement that ordinary computer work lacked.
In his daily life, he was the nice guy that everybody liked. But in the cyber world, George was a force to be reckoned with. Handsome cops like John and the bad guys who worked for the O'Connor Syndicate, had a confidence about them because they knew they were physically superior to him. The computer was the great equalizer. A few clicks of the mouse and his fingers dancing over the keyboard and George could change any one of their lives for better or worse. Although he hadn't liked using his talents for O'Connor, he had loved the sense of power it afforded him. Working for the police might keep him out of jail and let him sleep better at night. But was it enough? George wondered as he glanced at his watch once more.
******
An officer handed Rich a clipboard full of paperwork to fill out and pointed to a small waiting area with chairs. Only one man sat in the area. Alternating between looking at his watch and a copy of the latest issue of PC gamer, Rich took a seat and began to fill out one the form. The pen gave out midway through filling out his address. He was about to get up and ask for another pen when the man took one out of his pocket and held it out to him.
"Looks like you could use this."
"Thanks," Rich said taking the pen from him. For some reason he suddenly felt a bit nervous. Strange, he thought. The man was sort of cute but a couple years older than he tended to go for. He found himself babbling, "My car got stolen and my cell phone wasn't getting reception. So I walked here."
Putting the magazine aside, George said, "Let me see it."
"My cell? Okay."
Rich handed his phone to the stranger and watched in surprise as he withdrew a small tool kit from his jacket. The man pried the back open and looked inside.
"Your process isn't up to date, so it's probably not interfacing properly with your antenna. They were using the Toshiba 2100 series at the time your phone came out," he told Rich as he put the phone back together. "I'd suggest you either ask your cell phone service to upgrade you or to put in one of the new 3600 series in. They're about the same size and it's an easy fix."
Rich took his phone and was about to thank him when a man interrupted.
"George, we're ready to go over the paperwork with you."
George stood up and Rich called out after him, "Thank you, George."
Rich resumed his paperwork, but found himself glancing several times in the direction where George disappeared. He was attractive but it was hardly the time or the place to pursue someone. Returning his attention to filling out the report about his car, Rich pushed George from his mind.
******
George sat at a table across from Bailey Malone. John Grant hovered over him and put a stack of papers in front of him. He felt like he was floating outside of his body and watching himself as he stared blankly at the pages. The two men talked to him but he didn't really hear them. Growing up, he'd always been the good son and the good student. It didn't seem real to him as he sat and listened to the terms of the deal he was being offered.
Whatever they offered, he would probably take them up on it. He wasn't cut out for prison and he couldn't risk Cahill O'Connor deciding he was a threat. Things had been progressively souring with the syndicate. George had seen things in the past couple of months that were the stuff of nightmares and he didn't want anything more to do with the syndicate, let alone be on the receiving end of their displeasure. Accepting the deal was really his only option.
Occasionally, he would nod as John and Bailey spoke to him. Later tonight or tomorrow he would read through the deal when everything finally sunk in. For now, pretending to listen politely was the best he could manage. How had he ended up here? He loved his mother and although he no longer attended temple, he used to attend faithfully. It wasn't even just the O'Connor Syndicate. His whole life felt like it had been spiraling out of control for a long time. He felt utterly lost and had no idea how to find his way or to even try. Maybe the deal would help. But it wouldn't solve everything, George thought with a sigh.
******
Rich walked away from the desk at the police station. The officer on duty said they would file a report but he wasn't too optimistic that his vehicle would be found. He would find a way home and dig out his insurance agent's card. Maybe he could get a rental for a few days until he could figure something else out. Mentally reviewing his bank balance, he amended, a rental provided his insurance would pay for it. Moving to Atlanta had been expensive but necessary.
Growing up in Lumpkin, he'd never been able to fit in, no matter how hard he tried. It was a town where boys were expected to aspire to athletic greatness on the fields of Lumpkin County High before embracing blue collar jobs at one of the local factories. The only interest the football team ever had held for him was the secret crush he'd had on the second string full back of the varsity team. Rich avoided socializing whenever possible, afraid someone would figure out he wasn't interested in cheerleaders. Video games and Star Trek reruns had been his companions during high school.
After graduation, he spent three years working in the office of one of the factories, putting all his earnings into savings and dreaming of one day going to Atlanta. One weekend he drove to the city to acquire a newspaper to take back to Lumpkin and look for a job that would be his ticket out. He had planned to buy a paper and take it back to his cheap motel room for the night, then to drive home with it. But on his way to his motel, he took a wrong turn. There out of the darkness, lights glittering and men walking arm and arm in and out of it, stood the Three Legged Cowboy. It was the first gay bar Rich had ever seen and it had proved irresistible to the 19 year old.
That night, Rich got the shock of his life when he bumped into Mark, the football player he'd had a crush on in high school. They ended up back in Rich's motel and had sex. Losing his virginity in a cheap motel wasn't a dream come true, but with Mark, it was. Mark was working in Lumpkin and he and Rich started seeing each other a night or two a week. Usually they would go to Atlanta, but once in a while they would meet up for a quickie when Rich's parents were out. Mark went out a couple times a week with a former cheerleader just to keep up appearances, or so Rich thought.
They'd been together for almost three months when Mark came by drunk one evening. Rich snuck him into his bedroom. That night everything came crashing down. His mother walked in on him with his mouth wrapped around Mark's cock. Mark pushed him away calling him a faggot and saying Rich had gotten him drunk and come onto him. It had been a shock. Unsure of what to do, Rich ran off and drove around all night. He got breakfast in the diner and received the final blow as he read about Mark's engagement in the newspaper.
Heartbroken, it barely registered when he returned home and his mother screamed at him that he was no longer welcome and his father told him to get out. Fighting back tears, he'd packed what he could in his car and he started driving to Atlanta. Within a week, he'd gotten a small apartment and a job at Intelligamers. The job was only doing office work, a far cry from his dream of designing games, but it paid the rent and it was enough. For three years, he'd thrown himself into work. Rich made friends but restricted his romantic relationships to occasional sexual encounters with men he picked up in the bars. No one would hurt him like Mark had ever again, he vowed to himself.
Every cent he could spare went into an account to save up tuition for Georgia Tech. One day he hoped to design games at a place like Intelligamers and to create virtual worlds for people to lose themselves in. A rental car would eat up valuable money. He would take the bus until his car was found or his insurance replaced it. Since he wasn't familiar with the bus route near the police station, he would grab a cab back to his work and take the bus home from there, Rich decided moving to a payphone near the entrance.
******
George took the stack of papers from the table and walked away from John and Bailey. Tomorrow he would read them and Monday he would sign them. For now, he wanted nothing more than to get out of the police station and to have a good stiff drink or better yet, several. He had never felt so lowly as he did at that moment. He had taken the measure of his life and it was so far from where he wanted it to be that he didn't know if it could ever be fixed.
Making his way out of the police station, George paused as he saw the man he'd met in the waiting room earlier. His expression was worried as he spoke on the phone.
"Probably about $50!? That's outrageous! No, I understand. Thank you. I think I'll make other arrangements."
"Anything wrong?" George asked. Sometimes listening to someone else's woes made his own seem not so bad. At the moment he needed to feel better. Desperately.
"Just trying to get a cab to my work so I can get a bus home. They charge a fortune for cabs here."
Nodding, George agreed, "Tell me about it. I didn't have a car for the first month I was here and I swear I spent a small fortune."
The two men looked at each other then looked away.
Uncertainly George asked, "How far away is your work? I don't normally offer rides, but I'd hate to see you get fired on the day your car was stolen."
"Oh, I won't. I'm done with work. I was running an errand for my boss when my car was stolen. I'm not familiar with the bus route in this area. I figured it would be cheaper to take a cab to where I knew the bus route rather than take it all the way home. I live clear over in the Lenox Park area. Thanks anyway."
George started to speak then stopped several times. Finally he said, "I live in the Lindridge area. Lenox is only a few minutes out of my way. I know I don't know you and you don't know me but-"
"Rich. Rich Warren."
"George," he replied. "George Fraley."
"Nice to meet you, George."
"So now that we know each other, would you like a ride?"
"Thank you. I would, please," Rich nodded.
******
When they reached George's car and pulled away from the station, neither man spoke.
Rich sank back against the leather upholstery, grateful to be on his way home at last. Ordinarily he would have never accepted a ride from a stranger; but George had an honest face and since he was meeting with a detective at Atlanta P.D. he seemed on the up and up.
As George drove, he felt a bit less tense. He still didn't feel good about his life and had no idea where to go. Although he was unsure why he offered Rich a ride, he was glad that he had. Perhaps doing a good deed would eventually help him out. At this point it certainly couldn't hurt.
"Three Legged Cowboy," George muttered under his breath as he drove past the bar.
"You know that place?"
Hesitating, George answered, "Almost everyone in Atlanta knows about it."
"Oh."
Rich gave his companion a sidelong glance. Was George gay? He didn't vibe particularly one way or another. But then, unless a guy had on pride rings or flaming, it was often hard to tell outside of a bar. While Rich had never been hurt physically, he'd heard plenty of tales from his friends. The wrong words could land a guy in the middle of a bad situation very quickly. He was far from ashamed of his orientation, but he was careful not to drop any hint of it at work and at other places he was unsure of how people would react.
Noticing the concerned expression on his companion's face, George said, "I'm not going to hit on you if that's what you're worried about."
"Oh, no! That's not it at all, George. I've been there a couple times. It's just-"
"That you have to be careful," he supplied.
"Yeah."
Rich felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. While it was comforting to know he was safe, he felt oddly disappointed that George had no intentions of hitting on him. He wasn't the sort that had to have constant positive reinforcement but he felt slightly wounded. George wasn't remotely his type. His type tended to be aggressive tops with hard athletic bodies. George wasn't out of shape, but he wasn't muscular and ripped either. And then there was the age difference. He was a good five to seven years older than Rich. Nearly thirty! In club terms, he was practically ready for a walker! So why did he care that George wasn't interested?
"So where do you work?" George inquired, breaking the silence.
"Intelligamers."
"Really?!" His face lit up and he smiled.
It was a nice smile, Rich thought. "I just work in the office."
"Hmm."
"But I'm saving up to go to Georgia Tech. I want to be a game designer."
"Really? I'm a long time gamer and hacker."
"You? A hacker?"
George laughed softly. "That's why I was at Atlanta P.D. I got caught hacking for someone."
"They arrested you?"
"Just for a couple of hours. They were far more interested in the guy I was working for. I went in today because they wanted to offer me a deal. I tell them everything I know and then come to work for them like a good boy and I stay out of prison. I have until 9 AM Monday to make my decision and return to sign the deal."
"Doesn't sound like they gave you much choice, George."
"It's my own fault. I'll sort it out. So, Atlanta Tech-"
Although Rich wanted to press George for further information, he decided not to pry. Instead, he told him about his dreams of learning to program games and saving for school. He glossed over his coming to Atlanta from Lumpkin. He didn't want to tell him about Mark and his family. It still hurt and it wasn't necessary to tell someone he would never see again after he dropped him off in a few minutes.
******
As they pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, Rich asked, "Are you going to be okay, George?"
"Me? Yeah. I'm going to head on home, have a few drinks and try to forget today ever happened."
"Want to come up for a drink?" Rich offered, unsure of why he was asking, even as the words were coming out.
George hesitated. On the one hand, he didn't feel very social. On the other hand, he didn't want to be alone. Even though John assured him that only he and Bailey Malone knew about the deal and he was putting a police detail outside his house, he couldn't help worrying in the back of his mind that Cahill O'Connor would somehow find out and hunt him down. He had to go back home sometime. But he didn't feel like it just yet.
"Sure, why not?"
Rich lead George to the door to his apartment and showed him inside. He left George in the living room and went to the kitchen to search for a couple of glasses and a bottle of amaretto he'd gotten for his birthday from his friends.
"Grab a seat and make yourself at home," Rich called out as he made his way to the living room.
"You have the original Star Trek poster and Wrath of Khan?" George murmured in an awed voice.
"Yeah. I bought them at a convention during my senior year of high school."
"You're a Trekkie?"
Looking slightly embarrassed, Rich nodded as he poured a drink. "I know I'm a total geek. Someday I'll get something more grownup for my walls."
"Are you kidding!? These are great! They need better frames - I mean something with UV protective glass. But these are so cool!"
"You're a Trekkie too?"
"The original series, Next Gen, and Deep Space Nine. Of course nothing beats the original."
Handing a drink to George, Rich exclaimed, "Thank you! I keep telling my friends that, but they just don't get it. They're all about newer series."
"They're good, but you can't beat the original." George sat down on the sofa, casting a last look at the posters before turning his attention to his host.
"Even when they give it a nod like when they brought the Tribbles to Deep Space Nine." Rich sank down on the sofa beside him.
"Exactly!" George declared. Caught up in his excitement he rambled. "The Tribbles were awesome! Some day I'm going to get a Pomeranian and name her Tribbles." He took a sip of his drink, then blushed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to go off on a tangent like that."
"It's okay," Rich reassured him softly. "I kind of liked it."
Suddenly feeling a bit nervous, George blurted out, "I hear there's going to be another series next year called Voyager."
"That sounds cool, maybe we-" he trailed off. Things were getting into dangerous territory. He hadn't felt a spark like this from a simple conversation in a long time. Lamely he finished, "Maybe we'll find a new show to geek out on."
George studied Rich for a moment. Had he been flirting? No. They had just been talking. And yet- There was something electric in the air. Attraction? No. Yes. No. He must be imagining it. Rich was just glad to have a fellow Trekkie to talk to. Besides, Rich was much too young for him. He needed to finish his drink and go home.
Taking a sip of his drink before sitting it aside, George rose from the couch and said, "I should probably get going."
"Oh," Rich replied in a slightly disappointed tone and stood up. "Thank you for the ride. It was nice meeting you."
"I hope they find your car."
They moved towards the door.
"George," Rich hesitated.
Licking his lips nervously, George answered, "Rich."
As they stood face to face near the door, the air crackled with tension for several moments. Neither was sure who made the first move, but the space between them closed quickly and their lips met. One kiss slid into another. Moving away from the door, hands explored and clothing fell away as they made their way to the bedroom.
******
It was dark out when George woke up. Rich was sprawled on the bed beside him, asleep. Silently, he got up and walked through the apartment gathering his clothes up and got dressed. He didn't want to be there in the morning when Rich woke up and told him it was fun but that he wasn't interested. The sex had been incredible, but guys Rich's age weren't looking to settle down.
George got into his car and started to drive home. Midway he began to cry and pulled over. Last night was just one more example of how wrong everything went in his life. His recent legal woes had overshadowed his love life or rather lack there of. But the encounter with Rich brought it to the forefront. He never had relationships. Just encounters. He'd feel a small connection, go to bed and end up driving home with an ass full of K-Y and a feeling of shame. It was one thing when he was Rich's age. But now he was over thirty which in the club circles practically qualified him for a nursing home.
One night stands and the occasional weekend fuckfest were the closest things to love he had. The conversation with Rich was the closest thing to a date he'd had in months. George was tired of slinking home feeling like a whore He wanted- a husband. Someone funny to watch movies with. A guy he could cook dinner with.
Someone like-
Rich, he thought and began to sob harder.
******
Blinking awake in the early morning, Rich stretched slightly, then remembered he had company. Rolling over he reached for George and found the bed was empty. He slid out of bed and grabbed his robe. Putting it on, he left the bedroom and walked through his apartment looking for George. But he was alone. The glasses on the couch were the only evidence he hadn't been alone last night.
Pouring some amaretto into one of the glasses, Rich drank it and sighed. He wasn't good enough. Perhaps he never would be. Last night was the first time he'd really felt a connection with anyone since Mark. But just like Mark and every guy he ever brought back to his place, George left. He should have expected it, Rich told himself. Mark hadn't cared about him. Why should George? Last night they'd fucked and sucked until Rich was sore and satisfied from head to toe, but George was older and more experienced. What had been the best night of Rich's life probably left George bored.
He leaned back on the couch. Taking a drink, he let the alcohol burn his throat and looked up at his posters over the couch. They were the only part of his old life that didn't make him think of Mark. Now they were a reminder of George.
******
Monday morning the sky was as dark as George's mood. Rain poured down the windows as he sat in the conference room with John and Bailey. They reviewed the deal with him a final time and he signed. Although he did feel a sense of relief to be legally in the clear, his mind was still pre-occupied with Rich. It was a waste of time and energy, but he couldn't help it. All day Sunday he'd fought an urge to drive to his apartment. He wanted to leave a note with his phone number and even went as far as to write several notes only to discard each one in the trash. Even now, he wanted to go to Rich's apartment and claim he'd left something behind.
He knew he was obsessing and that it had just been sex. But he cared. Really cared. Rich would never be interested in him but it didn't make the feeling go away. As pointless as it was, George couldn't stop thinking about him. He wondered if Rich's car would be found, whether he got to work on time taking the bus, how long until Rich found someone his own age. If he hadn't already, he thought grimly.
John and Bailey shook his hand and they agreed he would start at Atlanta P.D. the following Monday. George forced a slight smile and walked out of the room. Maybe if he did something to help Rich out so he could stop worrying about him, he'd be able to put him out of his mind. Perhaps he could call some of his contacts at Georgia Tech and pull some strings to get Rich in and get some help with tuition. He'd fallen for Rich as a result of trying to do a good deed. Hopefully doing another good deed would make the feeling go away.
******
George walked out of the inner sanctum of Atlanta P.D. and was shocked to see Rich standing in the waiting area. Shock registered on his face and he struggled for composure.
"Did they find your car?"
"No. I'm not here about the car."
"Is everything all right?" George questioned in a worried tone.
"No. Everything's not all right."
Concerned, he asked, "Did something happen to you?"
"Yes," Rich replied. "You left me."
Uncomprehendingly, George echoed, "I left you."
"Yes damn it. I've been going out of my mind for past day and a half. You left without saying good-bye and I didn't know how to reach you. Last night I remembered you were coming back here. So I called off work and took a cab here."
Staring at him, George didn't know what to say. He was still reeling from the shock of seeing him. Convinced he'd never see Rich again, he didn't know how to respond. Finally after several long moments he managed to choke out, "Why?"
"Because I wanted to see you. Look, I know I'm nowhere near as good as some of the men you've probably been with. I'm not as experienced."
"Not as experienced," George repeated in shock.
"But I can learn."
"You can learn?"
"Yes, damn it! " Rich swore. "The other night was the most incredible night of my life. It might not have been as good for you. But I know you felt something. I want you to give me a chance."
"Rich, I-" George trailed off. His head was spinning and he felt dizzy. He couldn't be hearing what he was hearing. "I left the other night because I thought you'd realize you made a mistake. I'm older than you-"
"Not much," he interrupted. "Most guys like younger guys."
"Sure, but it doesn't last. Twenty year old guys realize what they're missing and leave tired old queens like me."
"I'm twenty-four," Rich corrected. "And I don't like hearing you talk about yourself that way."
"Fine, twenty-four year old guys. And it's close enough to the truth. I'm thirty-one. In club culture, I'm only a few years away from being the creepy guy who watches from the edge of the dance floor because no one's interested."
Putting a hand on his arm, Rich said, "I've had enough of the Three Legged Cowboy and every gay bar in this city to last me a lifetime. Every time I go home with a guy, I wake up alone. Just like I did Sunday morning. But you're different, George."
"I-"
"Don't you understand? Talking about Star Trek with you last night was better than all the one night stands I've had put together?" When George didn't answer, Rich pleaded, "Please, just tell me the other night mattered to you. That you thought about me. Even a little."
Blinking back tears, he sighed, "I've thought about nothing but you."
"Then you'll give me a chance?"
Closing his eyes, George said, "You have no idea how much I want to." Then opening them, he added, "But I don't see what good it would do either of us. You're too young. You need time to figure out what you want."
Grabbing George's arms, Rich told him, "I know exactly what I want. I want you."
"But what is it you want with me? What could ever really come from it?"
"I want to start by giving you this," Rich said, picking up a white rose from a nearby chair. "It's the closest I could get to a lunar flower from beyond Antares on this planet."
Taking the flower, George felt his breath catch.
"Then, I want to go to breakfast together. I want to go out with you on a real date. Several," he amended. "I want to make love and wake up together. And hopefully someday, when the time is right and we both feel ready, to settle down and maybe even get married."
Overwhelmed, George beamed. He moved close to Rich and kissed him.
"I've never felt anything with anyone like I did with you. Do you really want a serious relationship and all it entails?" George hesitated.
"Right down to getting a Pomeranian and naming her Tribbles," Rich assured him. "Now let's get some breakfast. I haven't eaten since you left the other day and I'm starving."
George took Rich's arm and let him lead him out of the police station. He didn't know where things would end up. But looking at Rich, he knew he wanted to find out...
Additional Author's Notes: In the original Star Trek, Lt Uhura sometimes sang a song called Beyond Antares which referred to a lunar flower in it's lyrics. Even though there aren't such things, I wanted Rich to get the closest flower possible. There is a moonflower but it only opens at night, so I had to use a substitution ;o) It is also where I got inspiration for the title.
There really is a Lumpkin, GA. I chose it because of it's location and size, plus the name was quirky. I have nothing against the town or it's residents. I'm sure they're lovely people.
Lastly, I like George and in no way feel life ends at 30 for anyone of any orientation. The club references to aging are drawn from my experiences in college when a friend of mine used to take me clubbing with him and the mindset of 20something guys at the clubs. My friend is now in his 30's working as a choreographer in New York and has found there's life well past 30 - as do most of us of all orientations and genders as we age :o)
Author: M. Elizabeth Ravensblood
Rating: R, minor language and sexuality
Pairing: George/Rich
Summary: Pre-Series. On the brink on signing his deal with the FBI, George meets Rich and both their lives change.
Author's Notes: This is for serialbathera for the profiler_fans Secret Santa Exchange. I hope you'll like and that I did justice to this pairing :o) Special thanks to my beta, jackssilverwolf. There are a couple additonal author notes at the end of the story, I didn't wish to clutter the page up :o)
"This is not my fucking day!" Rich swore as his cell phone showed no bars.
The day had started off badly when he was called into work at 7 AM and gotten progressively worse ever since. His boss had given him a large project that would take two people at least a week, but he'd asked Rich to complete it before the end of the next week on his own. At two, he was on his way out the door when his boss asked if he would do him a favor and deliver some papers to one of his executives that couldn't wait until Monday. Annoyed but wanting to seem like a team player, he'd pasted on a smile and taken the papers. He drove to the address his boss gave, an upscale apartment building in downtown Atlanta. The executive didn't answer when Rich knocked. Unable to complete his task, he decided to go home but when he got outside, his car was gone.
Legally parked and having not had a single ticket in over five years, Rich knew it been stolen. Walking several steps, he tried his cell phone once more in vain. Slamming it shut, he looked around for any signs of a payphone. Although there were a number of businesses in the area. they were all the nine to five sort and showed no signs of life. Zipping his coat up, Rich started walking. There was a police station a few miles away. He would make his report and call a cab from there, if he didn't find a pay phone along the way.
******
George looked at his watch nervously as he waited to be called in for his meeting with John Grant. The Atlanta P.D. detective had interceded on his behalf with Special Agent Bailey Malone for the FBI and the two had worked out a deal for him. Today he would hear the terms and then he would have to make a decision. On the one hand, getting away from Cahill O'Connor and his group of thugs would be a welcome reprieve. However, he wasn't sure that working for Atlanta P.D. would give him the rush he craved. George had worked in the private sector for a number of years and had rapidly grown bored with the lack of challenge it presented. Hacking had an excitement that ordinary computer work lacked.
In his daily life, he was the nice guy that everybody liked. But in the cyber world, George was a force to be reckoned with. Handsome cops like John and the bad guys who worked for the O'Connor Syndicate, had a confidence about them because they knew they were physically superior to him. The computer was the great equalizer. A few clicks of the mouse and his fingers dancing over the keyboard and George could change any one of their lives for better or worse. Although he hadn't liked using his talents for O'Connor, he had loved the sense of power it afforded him. Working for the police might keep him out of jail and let him sleep better at night. But was it enough? George wondered as he glanced at his watch once more.
******
An officer handed Rich a clipboard full of paperwork to fill out and pointed to a small waiting area with chairs. Only one man sat in the area. Alternating between looking at his watch and a copy of the latest issue of PC gamer, Rich took a seat and began to fill out one the form. The pen gave out midway through filling out his address. He was about to get up and ask for another pen when the man took one out of his pocket and held it out to him.
"Looks like you could use this."
"Thanks," Rich said taking the pen from him. For some reason he suddenly felt a bit nervous. Strange, he thought. The man was sort of cute but a couple years older than he tended to go for. He found himself babbling, "My car got stolen and my cell phone wasn't getting reception. So I walked here."
Putting the magazine aside, George said, "Let me see it."
"My cell? Okay."
Rich handed his phone to the stranger and watched in surprise as he withdrew a small tool kit from his jacket. The man pried the back open and looked inside.
"Your process isn't up to date, so it's probably not interfacing properly with your antenna. They were using the Toshiba 2100 series at the time your phone came out," he told Rich as he put the phone back together. "I'd suggest you either ask your cell phone service to upgrade you or to put in one of the new 3600 series in. They're about the same size and it's an easy fix."
Rich took his phone and was about to thank him when a man interrupted.
"George, we're ready to go over the paperwork with you."
George stood up and Rich called out after him, "Thank you, George."
Rich resumed his paperwork, but found himself glancing several times in the direction where George disappeared. He was attractive but it was hardly the time or the place to pursue someone. Returning his attention to filling out the report about his car, Rich pushed George from his mind.
******
George sat at a table across from Bailey Malone. John Grant hovered over him and put a stack of papers in front of him. He felt like he was floating outside of his body and watching himself as he stared blankly at the pages. The two men talked to him but he didn't really hear them. Growing up, he'd always been the good son and the good student. It didn't seem real to him as he sat and listened to the terms of the deal he was being offered.
Whatever they offered, he would probably take them up on it. He wasn't cut out for prison and he couldn't risk Cahill O'Connor deciding he was a threat. Things had been progressively souring with the syndicate. George had seen things in the past couple of months that were the stuff of nightmares and he didn't want anything more to do with the syndicate, let alone be on the receiving end of their displeasure. Accepting the deal was really his only option.
Occasionally, he would nod as John and Bailey spoke to him. Later tonight or tomorrow he would read through the deal when everything finally sunk in. For now, pretending to listen politely was the best he could manage. How had he ended up here? He loved his mother and although he no longer attended temple, he used to attend faithfully. It wasn't even just the O'Connor Syndicate. His whole life felt like it had been spiraling out of control for a long time. He felt utterly lost and had no idea how to find his way or to even try. Maybe the deal would help. But it wouldn't solve everything, George thought with a sigh.
******
Rich walked away from the desk at the police station. The officer on duty said they would file a report but he wasn't too optimistic that his vehicle would be found. He would find a way home and dig out his insurance agent's card. Maybe he could get a rental for a few days until he could figure something else out. Mentally reviewing his bank balance, he amended, a rental provided his insurance would pay for it. Moving to Atlanta had been expensive but necessary.
Growing up in Lumpkin, he'd never been able to fit in, no matter how hard he tried. It was a town where boys were expected to aspire to athletic greatness on the fields of Lumpkin County High before embracing blue collar jobs at one of the local factories. The only interest the football team ever had held for him was the secret crush he'd had on the second string full back of the varsity team. Rich avoided socializing whenever possible, afraid someone would figure out he wasn't interested in cheerleaders. Video games and Star Trek reruns had been his companions during high school.
After graduation, he spent three years working in the office of one of the factories, putting all his earnings into savings and dreaming of one day going to Atlanta. One weekend he drove to the city to acquire a newspaper to take back to Lumpkin and look for a job that would be his ticket out. He had planned to buy a paper and take it back to his cheap motel room for the night, then to drive home with it. But on his way to his motel, he took a wrong turn. There out of the darkness, lights glittering and men walking arm and arm in and out of it, stood the Three Legged Cowboy. It was the first gay bar Rich had ever seen and it had proved irresistible to the 19 year old.
That night, Rich got the shock of his life when he bumped into Mark, the football player he'd had a crush on in high school. They ended up back in Rich's motel and had sex. Losing his virginity in a cheap motel wasn't a dream come true, but with Mark, it was. Mark was working in Lumpkin and he and Rich started seeing each other a night or two a week. Usually they would go to Atlanta, but once in a while they would meet up for a quickie when Rich's parents were out. Mark went out a couple times a week with a former cheerleader just to keep up appearances, or so Rich thought.
They'd been together for almost three months when Mark came by drunk one evening. Rich snuck him into his bedroom. That night everything came crashing down. His mother walked in on him with his mouth wrapped around Mark's cock. Mark pushed him away calling him a faggot and saying Rich had gotten him drunk and come onto him. It had been a shock. Unsure of what to do, Rich ran off and drove around all night. He got breakfast in the diner and received the final blow as he read about Mark's engagement in the newspaper.
Heartbroken, it barely registered when he returned home and his mother screamed at him that he was no longer welcome and his father told him to get out. Fighting back tears, he'd packed what he could in his car and he started driving to Atlanta. Within a week, he'd gotten a small apartment and a job at Intelligamers. The job was only doing office work, a far cry from his dream of designing games, but it paid the rent and it was enough. For three years, he'd thrown himself into work. Rich made friends but restricted his romantic relationships to occasional sexual encounters with men he picked up in the bars. No one would hurt him like Mark had ever again, he vowed to himself.
Every cent he could spare went into an account to save up tuition for Georgia Tech. One day he hoped to design games at a place like Intelligamers and to create virtual worlds for people to lose themselves in. A rental car would eat up valuable money. He would take the bus until his car was found or his insurance replaced it. Since he wasn't familiar with the bus route near the police station, he would grab a cab back to his work and take the bus home from there, Rich decided moving to a payphone near the entrance.
******
George took the stack of papers from the table and walked away from John and Bailey. Tomorrow he would read them and Monday he would sign them. For now, he wanted nothing more than to get out of the police station and to have a good stiff drink or better yet, several. He had never felt so lowly as he did at that moment. He had taken the measure of his life and it was so far from where he wanted it to be that he didn't know if it could ever be fixed.
Making his way out of the police station, George paused as he saw the man he'd met in the waiting room earlier. His expression was worried as he spoke on the phone.
"Probably about $50!? That's outrageous! No, I understand. Thank you. I think I'll make other arrangements."
"Anything wrong?" George asked. Sometimes listening to someone else's woes made his own seem not so bad. At the moment he needed to feel better. Desperately.
"Just trying to get a cab to my work so I can get a bus home. They charge a fortune for cabs here."
Nodding, George agreed, "Tell me about it. I didn't have a car for the first month I was here and I swear I spent a small fortune."
The two men looked at each other then looked away.
Uncertainly George asked, "How far away is your work? I don't normally offer rides, but I'd hate to see you get fired on the day your car was stolen."
"Oh, I won't. I'm done with work. I was running an errand for my boss when my car was stolen. I'm not familiar with the bus route in this area. I figured it would be cheaper to take a cab to where I knew the bus route rather than take it all the way home. I live clear over in the Lenox Park area. Thanks anyway."
George started to speak then stopped several times. Finally he said, "I live in the Lindridge area. Lenox is only a few minutes out of my way. I know I don't know you and you don't know me but-"
"Rich. Rich Warren."
"George," he replied. "George Fraley."
"Nice to meet you, George."
"So now that we know each other, would you like a ride?"
"Thank you. I would, please," Rich nodded.
******
When they reached George's car and pulled away from the station, neither man spoke.
Rich sank back against the leather upholstery, grateful to be on his way home at last. Ordinarily he would have never accepted a ride from a stranger; but George had an honest face and since he was meeting with a detective at Atlanta P.D. he seemed on the up and up.
As George drove, he felt a bit less tense. He still didn't feel good about his life and had no idea where to go. Although he was unsure why he offered Rich a ride, he was glad that he had. Perhaps doing a good deed would eventually help him out. At this point it certainly couldn't hurt.
"Three Legged Cowboy," George muttered under his breath as he drove past the bar.
"You know that place?"
Hesitating, George answered, "Almost everyone in Atlanta knows about it."
"Oh."
Rich gave his companion a sidelong glance. Was George gay? He didn't vibe particularly one way or another. But then, unless a guy had on pride rings or flaming, it was often hard to tell outside of a bar. While Rich had never been hurt physically, he'd heard plenty of tales from his friends. The wrong words could land a guy in the middle of a bad situation very quickly. He was far from ashamed of his orientation, but he was careful not to drop any hint of it at work and at other places he was unsure of how people would react.
Noticing the concerned expression on his companion's face, George said, "I'm not going to hit on you if that's what you're worried about."
"Oh, no! That's not it at all, George. I've been there a couple times. It's just-"
"That you have to be careful," he supplied.
"Yeah."
Rich felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. While it was comforting to know he was safe, he felt oddly disappointed that George had no intentions of hitting on him. He wasn't the sort that had to have constant positive reinforcement but he felt slightly wounded. George wasn't remotely his type. His type tended to be aggressive tops with hard athletic bodies. George wasn't out of shape, but he wasn't muscular and ripped either. And then there was the age difference. He was a good five to seven years older than Rich. Nearly thirty! In club terms, he was practically ready for a walker! So why did he care that George wasn't interested?
"So where do you work?" George inquired, breaking the silence.
"Intelligamers."
"Really?!" His face lit up and he smiled.
It was a nice smile, Rich thought. "I just work in the office."
"Hmm."
"But I'm saving up to go to Georgia Tech. I want to be a game designer."
"Really? I'm a long time gamer and hacker."
"You? A hacker?"
George laughed softly. "That's why I was at Atlanta P.D. I got caught hacking for someone."
"They arrested you?"
"Just for a couple of hours. They were far more interested in the guy I was working for. I went in today because they wanted to offer me a deal. I tell them everything I know and then come to work for them like a good boy and I stay out of prison. I have until 9 AM Monday to make my decision and return to sign the deal."
"Doesn't sound like they gave you much choice, George."
"It's my own fault. I'll sort it out. So, Atlanta Tech-"
Although Rich wanted to press George for further information, he decided not to pry. Instead, he told him about his dreams of learning to program games and saving for school. He glossed over his coming to Atlanta from Lumpkin. He didn't want to tell him about Mark and his family. It still hurt and it wasn't necessary to tell someone he would never see again after he dropped him off in a few minutes.
******
As they pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, Rich asked, "Are you going to be okay, George?"
"Me? Yeah. I'm going to head on home, have a few drinks and try to forget today ever happened."
"Want to come up for a drink?" Rich offered, unsure of why he was asking, even as the words were coming out.
George hesitated. On the one hand, he didn't feel very social. On the other hand, he didn't want to be alone. Even though John assured him that only he and Bailey Malone knew about the deal and he was putting a police detail outside his house, he couldn't help worrying in the back of his mind that Cahill O'Connor would somehow find out and hunt him down. He had to go back home sometime. But he didn't feel like it just yet.
"Sure, why not?"
Rich lead George to the door to his apartment and showed him inside. He left George in the living room and went to the kitchen to search for a couple of glasses and a bottle of amaretto he'd gotten for his birthday from his friends.
"Grab a seat and make yourself at home," Rich called out as he made his way to the living room.
"You have the original Star Trek poster and Wrath of Khan?" George murmured in an awed voice.
"Yeah. I bought them at a convention during my senior year of high school."
"You're a Trekkie?"
Looking slightly embarrassed, Rich nodded as he poured a drink. "I know I'm a total geek. Someday I'll get something more grownup for my walls."
"Are you kidding!? These are great! They need better frames - I mean something with UV protective glass. But these are so cool!"
"You're a Trekkie too?"
"The original series, Next Gen, and Deep Space Nine. Of course nothing beats the original."
Handing a drink to George, Rich exclaimed, "Thank you! I keep telling my friends that, but they just don't get it. They're all about newer series."
"They're good, but you can't beat the original." George sat down on the sofa, casting a last look at the posters before turning his attention to his host.
"Even when they give it a nod like when they brought the Tribbles to Deep Space Nine." Rich sank down on the sofa beside him.
"Exactly!" George declared. Caught up in his excitement he rambled. "The Tribbles were awesome! Some day I'm going to get a Pomeranian and name her Tribbles." He took a sip of his drink, then blushed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to go off on a tangent like that."
"It's okay," Rich reassured him softly. "I kind of liked it."
Suddenly feeling a bit nervous, George blurted out, "I hear there's going to be another series next year called Voyager."
"That sounds cool, maybe we-" he trailed off. Things were getting into dangerous territory. He hadn't felt a spark like this from a simple conversation in a long time. Lamely he finished, "Maybe we'll find a new show to geek out on."
George studied Rich for a moment. Had he been flirting? No. They had just been talking. And yet- There was something electric in the air. Attraction? No. Yes. No. He must be imagining it. Rich was just glad to have a fellow Trekkie to talk to. Besides, Rich was much too young for him. He needed to finish his drink and go home.
Taking a sip of his drink before sitting it aside, George rose from the couch and said, "I should probably get going."
"Oh," Rich replied in a slightly disappointed tone and stood up. "Thank you for the ride. It was nice meeting you."
"I hope they find your car."
They moved towards the door.
"George," Rich hesitated.
Licking his lips nervously, George answered, "Rich."
As they stood face to face near the door, the air crackled with tension for several moments. Neither was sure who made the first move, but the space between them closed quickly and their lips met. One kiss slid into another. Moving away from the door, hands explored and clothing fell away as they made their way to the bedroom.
******
It was dark out when George woke up. Rich was sprawled on the bed beside him, asleep. Silently, he got up and walked through the apartment gathering his clothes up and got dressed. He didn't want to be there in the morning when Rich woke up and told him it was fun but that he wasn't interested. The sex had been incredible, but guys Rich's age weren't looking to settle down.
George got into his car and started to drive home. Midway he began to cry and pulled over. Last night was just one more example of how wrong everything went in his life. His recent legal woes had overshadowed his love life or rather lack there of. But the encounter with Rich brought it to the forefront. He never had relationships. Just encounters. He'd feel a small connection, go to bed and end up driving home with an ass full of K-Y and a feeling of shame. It was one thing when he was Rich's age. But now he was over thirty which in the club circles practically qualified him for a nursing home.
One night stands and the occasional weekend fuckfest were the closest things to love he had. The conversation with Rich was the closest thing to a date he'd had in months. George was tired of slinking home feeling like a whore He wanted- a husband. Someone funny to watch movies with. A guy he could cook dinner with.
Someone like-
Rich, he thought and began to sob harder.
******
Blinking awake in the early morning, Rich stretched slightly, then remembered he had company. Rolling over he reached for George and found the bed was empty. He slid out of bed and grabbed his robe. Putting it on, he left the bedroom and walked through his apartment looking for George. But he was alone. The glasses on the couch were the only evidence he hadn't been alone last night.
Pouring some amaretto into one of the glasses, Rich drank it and sighed. He wasn't good enough. Perhaps he never would be. Last night was the first time he'd really felt a connection with anyone since Mark. But just like Mark and every guy he ever brought back to his place, George left. He should have expected it, Rich told himself. Mark hadn't cared about him. Why should George? Last night they'd fucked and sucked until Rich was sore and satisfied from head to toe, but George was older and more experienced. What had been the best night of Rich's life probably left George bored.
He leaned back on the couch. Taking a drink, he let the alcohol burn his throat and looked up at his posters over the couch. They were the only part of his old life that didn't make him think of Mark. Now they were a reminder of George.
******
Monday morning the sky was as dark as George's mood. Rain poured down the windows as he sat in the conference room with John and Bailey. They reviewed the deal with him a final time and he signed. Although he did feel a sense of relief to be legally in the clear, his mind was still pre-occupied with Rich. It was a waste of time and energy, but he couldn't help it. All day Sunday he'd fought an urge to drive to his apartment. He wanted to leave a note with his phone number and even went as far as to write several notes only to discard each one in the trash. Even now, he wanted to go to Rich's apartment and claim he'd left something behind.
He knew he was obsessing and that it had just been sex. But he cared. Really cared. Rich would never be interested in him but it didn't make the feeling go away. As pointless as it was, George couldn't stop thinking about him. He wondered if Rich's car would be found, whether he got to work on time taking the bus, how long until Rich found someone his own age. If he hadn't already, he thought grimly.
John and Bailey shook his hand and they agreed he would start at Atlanta P.D. the following Monday. George forced a slight smile and walked out of the room. Maybe if he did something to help Rich out so he could stop worrying about him, he'd be able to put him out of his mind. Perhaps he could call some of his contacts at Georgia Tech and pull some strings to get Rich in and get some help with tuition. He'd fallen for Rich as a result of trying to do a good deed. Hopefully doing another good deed would make the feeling go away.
******
George walked out of the inner sanctum of Atlanta P.D. and was shocked to see Rich standing in the waiting area. Shock registered on his face and he struggled for composure.
"Did they find your car?"
"No. I'm not here about the car."
"Is everything all right?" George questioned in a worried tone.
"No. Everything's not all right."
Concerned, he asked, "Did something happen to you?"
"Yes," Rich replied. "You left me."
Uncomprehendingly, George echoed, "I left you."
"Yes damn it. I've been going out of my mind for past day and a half. You left without saying good-bye and I didn't know how to reach you. Last night I remembered you were coming back here. So I called off work and took a cab here."
Staring at him, George didn't know what to say. He was still reeling from the shock of seeing him. Convinced he'd never see Rich again, he didn't know how to respond. Finally after several long moments he managed to choke out, "Why?"
"Because I wanted to see you. Look, I know I'm nowhere near as good as some of the men you've probably been with. I'm not as experienced."
"Not as experienced," George repeated in shock.
"But I can learn."
"You can learn?"
"Yes, damn it! " Rich swore. "The other night was the most incredible night of my life. It might not have been as good for you. But I know you felt something. I want you to give me a chance."
"Rich, I-" George trailed off. His head was spinning and he felt dizzy. He couldn't be hearing what he was hearing. "I left the other night because I thought you'd realize you made a mistake. I'm older than you-"
"Not much," he interrupted. "Most guys like younger guys."
"Sure, but it doesn't last. Twenty year old guys realize what they're missing and leave tired old queens like me."
"I'm twenty-four," Rich corrected. "And I don't like hearing you talk about yourself that way."
"Fine, twenty-four year old guys. And it's close enough to the truth. I'm thirty-one. In club culture, I'm only a few years away from being the creepy guy who watches from the edge of the dance floor because no one's interested."
Putting a hand on his arm, Rich said, "I've had enough of the Three Legged Cowboy and every gay bar in this city to last me a lifetime. Every time I go home with a guy, I wake up alone. Just like I did Sunday morning. But you're different, George."
"I-"
"Don't you understand? Talking about Star Trek with you last night was better than all the one night stands I've had put together?" When George didn't answer, Rich pleaded, "Please, just tell me the other night mattered to you. That you thought about me. Even a little."
Blinking back tears, he sighed, "I've thought about nothing but you."
"Then you'll give me a chance?"
Closing his eyes, George said, "You have no idea how much I want to." Then opening them, he added, "But I don't see what good it would do either of us. You're too young. You need time to figure out what you want."
Grabbing George's arms, Rich told him, "I know exactly what I want. I want you."
"But what is it you want with me? What could ever really come from it?"
"I want to start by giving you this," Rich said, picking up a white rose from a nearby chair. "It's the closest I could get to a lunar flower from beyond Antares on this planet."
Taking the flower, George felt his breath catch.
"Then, I want to go to breakfast together. I want to go out with you on a real date. Several," he amended. "I want to make love and wake up together. And hopefully someday, when the time is right and we both feel ready, to settle down and maybe even get married."
Overwhelmed, George beamed. He moved close to Rich and kissed him.
"I've never felt anything with anyone like I did with you. Do you really want a serious relationship and all it entails?" George hesitated.
"Right down to getting a Pomeranian and naming her Tribbles," Rich assured him. "Now let's get some breakfast. I haven't eaten since you left the other day and I'm starving."
George took Rich's arm and let him lead him out of the police station. He didn't know where things would end up. But looking at Rich, he knew he wanted to find out...
Additional Author's Notes: In the original Star Trek, Lt Uhura sometimes sang a song called Beyond Antares which referred to a lunar flower in it's lyrics. Even though there aren't such things, I wanted Rich to get the closest flower possible. There is a moonflower but it only opens at night, so I had to use a substitution ;o) It is also where I got inspiration for the title.
There really is a Lumpkin, GA. I chose it because of it's location and size, plus the name was quirky. I have nothing against the town or it's residents. I'm sure they're lovely people.
Lastly, I like George and in no way feel life ends at 30 for anyone of any orientation. The club references to aging are drawn from my experiences in college when a friend of mine used to take me clubbing with him and the mindset of 20something guys at the clubs. My friend is now in his 30's working as a choreographer in New York and has found there's life well past 30 - as do most of us of all orientations and genders as we age :o)