Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

Bright lights shone down on the stage illuminating a redheaded woman as she paced back and forth before the boisterous crowd. A microphone was held in her hand like the hilt of a sword ready to strike at any and all that stood in her way. She was clad for battle in a skintight red satin cocktail dress that hugged every inch of her generous curves. She stared out into the crowd with a sly smirk on her lips as she waited for their laughter to quieten.

“Well,” she purred into the microphone, “I don’t suppose I’m allowed to finish my set tonight without telling you all a little bit about myself, am I?”

The crowd cheered enthusiastically.

“I’m twenty-four years old… Ancient I know! I’m a Libra which means I’m meant to be pleasant, calm, and mature…” She paused for effect and grinned. “But fuck that, I should have been a Scorpio.”

The crowd laughed.

“I’m depressed, which you can tell because I’m up on stage with a microphone trying to make people like me.”

“And despite my accent,” she began, slipping a little of her native twang into her voice. “I’ve never slept with a cowboy.”

The crowd roared.

“Now can any of you tell me why that would be a terrible idea?” she asked the assembled crowd, “And no, that guy you met on Grindr with the plastic hat with fifteen STDs doesn’t count.”

There was a wave of shouted calls and suggestions but the woman shook her glossy red mane and chuckled. “Not a single right answer, but then again this is Los Angeles, I don’t think I was going to see many experts.”

She paused for effect and wrinkled her nose. “Can you imagine the ball sweat from spending that much time in a saddle? No? Trust me, it's bad, No way am I getting my face anywhere near that level of nasty.”

The crowd collectively grimaced and cheered.

“This is why all the barrel racing girls go for the bronc riders. They spend so little time in the saddle it’s almost fresh after the rodeo is done!”

The woman paused for effect and raised her eyebrows and grinned, “That and finding a cowboy that can last eight seconds or longer is so impressive they give them goddamn awards.”

The crowd exploded into laughter and cheers.

“Give it up for our host tonight Dorothy Russo” The woman laughed, “The mistress of ungraceful dismounts!”

A short-haired redhead behind the bar flipped her the bird.

The crowd exploded. The woman waved to the crowd and clipped the microphone back into the stand. “Pitchers, I’ve been Mia Calafia, thank’s for having me. Now go get drunk before they let Miss Teak on stage, it makes it better. Goodnight!”

The crowd laughed and clapped as the woman left the stage with a wave. Grabbing a bottle of water from a stage tech, she downed half the bottle before Miss Russo made her way over through the mass of bodies in the nightclub.

“Really going to end on a punchline about the one paying you?”

Mia grinned at the woman and finished the bottle. “That’s exactly why you pay me.”

Dorothy rolled her eyes, “I created a monster.”

Mia sauntered her way through to the dressing room after signing a few autographs and began the long process of transforming herself into her far less glamorous and boring version of herself.

Mia Calafia, a tawdry play on an adult entertainer’s name raised the odd eyebrow, but more often raised a chuckle. It was a useful hook for a drag queen whose specialty was insult comedy. Thirty minutes later, nobody noticed a small skinny individual in a hoodie slip out through the smoking area door of the nightclub and into the Los Angeles night.

The pickup truck was obnoxious in LA traffic, but it was one of the few things Harry had brought from home. There hadn’t been a lot he wanted but his independence was one of the few things he cherished. That truck had taken him over nine hundred miles from Montana all the way down to the city of stars on the coast of the Pacific. Harry Dalton drove mindlessly through the late-night traffic, his mind still somewhere in that nightclub.

Growing up had been painful. He had always been different from his peers. Being different in a state like Montana was a bad thing. Picked out quickly by the school bullies, he was on the receiving end of more than enough harassment and ass-kickings from his peers. His parents and the local cops didn’t join them, but they didn’t stop it either. Harry was convinced they thought that it would ‘correct’ him. Their disapproval and inaction was more than he could handle.

As soon as he’d graduated high school, Harry left home for college in Los Angeles and had not looked back since that day. He would miss the wild open spaces of Montana. The state, his home, was a beautiful place that was beyond compare. The mountains and valleys stretched to the stars at night and the sun by day. This city was entirely different; Its valleys were streets and they formed a grand concrete prison; a storage rack for humanity. He hated it, but it was a small price to pay to be somewhere he might be accepted as who he was, not who they expected him to be.

Perhaps it was the harassment of his peers and the inaction of everyone else that had drawn him to his career. He knew what the law was meant to be, but he also saw how it was enforced in practice and it had made him feel helpless. Upon graduation, he’d applied to the academy and joined the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department as his own way of fighting back. Perhaps it was his chance to be the kind of Officer he’d been so desperate for growing up. It was idealistic and the reality was sometimes far from ideal, but he felt as though it made a difference. If he could be the ear and the defender of just one person like him that had cried out for help, he would have made the world a better place.

He wasn’t sure how he’d been dragged into this whole circus he called his life. Getting on stage at clubs in the darkness of night and wearing a badge during the day. Both jobs were technically in a uniform of sorts, he felt like two entirely different people when he was moving in each world. Who was Harry Dalton though? He hoped he could keep the two worlds far apart; Law Enforcement was not as open-minded as the city it policed.

Harry lived in a small apartment overlooking the beach down in the bohemian Venice Beach area of Los Angeles. It wasn’t the ranch at home and it was almost constantly noisy but he was afforded a great view of the Pacific if he ignored a few condos and trees. It was good to be able to look in at least one direction and see the horizon.

Parking his truck in the bay beneath the apartment, he let himself in and went straight to bed. In a few hours, he would be up again. This time in a different costume where people were far less excited to see him.

The surf crashed against the shore like a volcanic eruption as the amber glow of the sunset glinted off the water. Harry paddled hard through the waves toward deeper water. Surfing was a glorious escape from the pressures of daily life in LA. Out here was about as close as he could get to his native Montana without driving hours outside the city; His home was a wild lonely beautiful place that he missed dearly. Out on the waves he was alone in nature’s grasp, even as he looked inland toward the city's concrete sprawl. Turning on his board, he dug hard as the wave rose behind him. Catching its leading edge, he stood with practiced ease as his board began to dip, the wave swelled around him.

The ride was always exhilarating. The natural power of the ocean was harnessed briefly as he raced toward the shore. Like life, it was fleeting and over before you really knew it. After the wave deposited him in the shallows he stood, pushing his hair out of his face. Glancing at the dying sun, he calculated he had time for at least one more wave before he had to head back to real life.

Slinging the board ahead of him, he began to paddle back out toward deeper water. Surfing was something he had picked up when he first got to LA for college. He was fresh from the mountains and valleys of Montana and the ocean provided one of the few escapes from the noise and exhausting vibrance of college life. If it had felt like he had a choice, he would never have left his home. Nothing, he knew, is ever really that simple.

Harry’s childhood had been a difficult affair. His family owned a ranch outside Livingstone and were more than comfortable enough. The problem hadn’t been abuse, not in the classical sense at least. Harry had known he was different from other boys from a fairly young age. He was gay, which simply didn’t fit with life in the last bastion of the Old West. He was bullied in school and while his parents technically loved him, they did nothing to stop it. They hoped that a little tough love might encourage him to be what they expected.

One of Harry’s greatest loves was riding. On horseback, he was so very far away from the abuse of the others his age. On a horse, he was their equal or better. Out in the wilderness, he could be anyone he wanted, it didn’t matter what people thought of him. His brother and sister had remained civil but he knew he was a disappointment to them all. Montana just wasn’t the kind of place he fitted in; not belonging in a place you loved crushed a person’s soul.

Reaching deeper water, Harry straddled his board and rested after battling out through the surf and tide. The sea breeze whipped against his face and the salty spray was wonderfully refreshing. He closed his eyes and allowed the world to cease to exist for a moment; this was his Montana now.

“Just can’t face going back in huh?” a voice called from a short distance away breaking his moment.

Harry opened his eyes and glanced back over his shoulder. Another man was paddling out to catch one last wave like him.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, sometimes I just like to pretend I don’t have to.”

The man smirked. He was a little older than Harry and had short dark hair and a smattering of scruffy facial hair. Unlike Harry’s wetsuit, he simply wore bright tropical board shorts.

“Richard,” he nodded a greeting, offering a hand between their boards.

Harry took the offered hand and shook it. “Harry.”

“I just need this sometimes. Nobody can call or bother me out here,” the man laughed, rolling his eyes. “Going back means a bunch of missed calls and needy people.”

Harry laughed along with him as the two bobbed in the swell. “I know the feeling, can’t feel alone back there.”

“I work in the legal field, I don’t think I can go a moment without being bothered about something,” Richard admitted, shaking his head. “Plus I spend so damn long at a desk or in a courtroom that I don’t get as much fresh air as I’d like.”

Harry nodded. “I spend a lot of my day cooped up in a car. It’s just constant noise and people and I need some time alone to clear my head.”

Richard regarded him for a moment as though trying to get a read of him. “Let me guess,” he mused regarding Harry with a critical eye. “You’re certainly not a cab driver. Give me a little more to work with?”

Harry smiled. “I deal with a lot of people, not all of them happy. I have to wear a uniform, and I don’t get paid anywhere near enough.”

Richard stroked the scruffy stubble on his chin theatrically. “People don’t like you, you wear a uniform and you get paid poorly… plus a lot of time in a vehicle.” He smirked. “You must be a bus driver.”

Harry shook his head with a grin. “Not even close, but I do ferry people around quite often.”

“Uber to the rich and famous?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m a cop.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a prosecutor,” Richard smirked. “We’re kinda on the same team.”

“So you were just pulling my chain, huh?”

Richard smiled. “A little.” He raised a leg up on his board and stretched. “I just like to have a little fun.”

“Is that what this is? You make fun of random guys when you surf?”

The man laughed and shook his head. “No, I just don’t take life that seriously to be honest.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a large wave heading toward them from deeper water. “Time to go,” Richard grinned and began paddling hard towards the shore. Harry turned and followed suit.

The wave crested and caught his board, Harry stood and found his balance. Richard was sweeping ahead on the leading edge of the wave, the man was obviously an experienced surfer. Harry found his groove and dug in as the wave began to rise as it approached the shore. Riding a surfboard was a lot like riding a horse: you had to be fluid, move with your board and steer it gently. Harry swept down the wave and cut a wall of spray.

He hit the shallows and the ride finally came to a stop. Hauling up his board he walked ashore regretfully.

“That one was gnarly,” Richard laughed from behind him as he hauled his own board back to dry land.

Harry grabbed his towel and began to dry himself. “All good things come to an end.”

The older man nodded and grabbed his own towel and ran it through his short dark hair. He gave Harry a look. “I might be reading into things a little,” he said with a quizzical expression. “But I’m a pretty good judge of people.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and shot him a look, “you thought I was a bus driver.”

Richard smirked and waved his hand dismissively before taking on a more serious expression. “Can I buy you a drink perhaps?”

Harry wrapped his towel around his shoulders over his wetsuit and looked over at the man. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that. He had classically refined features and stylish neatly trimmed stubble. He was well-muscled and athletic in build. Harry could tell that the man knew he was attractive. He hadn’t pegged him as gay from their brief conversation, however. That was something he was still woefully hopeless at.

Harry thought for a moment as he dried himself off, “Sure, I’d like that.”

Richard grinned broadly. “I’m not far from here, you local?”

Harry nodded.

“Al-Dente’s at Six?” Richard asked over his shoulder as he walked away up the beach.

Harry threw his hands up and laughed at how sudden it all was. “Sure,” he called, shaking his head. How had he managed to get asked out so casually?

He shook his head at the absurdity of it all as he slipped his sandals on before carrying his board back up the beach toward his apartment.

It was just before six that evening when Harry pushed the door open to Al-Dente’s restaurant and bar. He’d managed to shower and wash the salt from his hair. He’d changed into something a little more presentable than a wetsuit. He’d been uncertain as to what to wear for a date, especially with someone like an attorney. He’d been on a handful of dates since moving to LA and hooked up a couple of times but in reality, he never really knew the rules. This was the first time he’d really been asked out like that by someone. It was so normal it felt unusual. The man, Richard, was so sure of himself. It was a feeling Harry had never really understood. Confidence always seemed to be something he had to force or find behind a mask when he was on stage.

Al-Dente’s wasn’t exactly high society but it wasn’t a dive bar either, Harry had selected a pair of faded jeans and a simple gray T-shirt; it was simple and stylish but it didn’t make any particular statements.

He approached the bar and waited for an opportunity to order a drink. He needed something to calm his nerves before the man arrived. The place was busy but not crowded and there was music playing in the background behind the buzz of conversation. The place had a good atmosphere. It was a relaxed environment, there was no pressure.

He didn’t get a chance to order before he felt a hand on his back. He turned around and found himself looking up at the man from the beach. He looked completely different; he wore a crisp blue cotton shirt with the top two buttons open and a pair of dark slacks. His hair was neat and he was smiling broadly. “Hi, have you been waiting long?”

Harry shook his head. “Just a few minutes really. You look different with clothes on.” He blushed, immediately regretting his choice of words.

Richard laughed and ignored the choice of words. “I slip back into a legal eagle when I’m not being a surfer bum.”

“It suits you,” Harry answered, noting Richard hadn’t removed the hand from his back.

The barman approached and Richard ordered a beer and looked at Harry questioningly. He indicated the same and the man ordered two. They managed to find a relatively quiet booth in a corner and settled in with their drinks.

“So you’re not from around here are you?” Richard started out, breaking the ice. “I hear an accent but It’s pretty neutral?”

“Montana,” Harry offered, “Near Bozeman originally, came here for college and stayed.”

“I’ve had a few colleagues that attended UCLA, it’s a good school. I’m from here myself. Born and raised under the California sun.”

“You’ve surfed all your life?” Harry asked.

Richard nodded. “Since I was a teenager, I love it. I know it doesn’t fit with the image of a prim and proper attorney but I’m not entirely conventional I suppose.”

“I only discovered it when I got here. Montana doesn’t exactly have a huge surfing scene.” Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s one of the few escapes I have when this place gets too concrete.”

“Not used to city life yet huh?” Richard took a sip of his drink.

Harry shook his head. “No, I still wake up at the slightest sound at night, even after six years.”

Richard smiled sympathetically. “It’s a different way of life,” he agreed. “I hope you don’t think I was too forward making assumptions about you. I have been told I can be a little direct at times.”

Harry waved a hand dismissively. “I suppose it comes with your job. I have to admit I didn’t see it myself. You, I mean.” he gestured vaguely.

Richard nodded. “I’ll be honest with you, I’m bisexual. I’ve dated men and women for years and I’m open about it, it’s just who I am. I don’t want to let who I love define who I am. I find people beautiful and it’s more than a superficial thing; it’s about the person.”

“That’s a very LA thing to say,” Harry observed. “Not quite the same thing where I’m from.”

Richard nodded. “Montana’s a pretty red state I imagine.”

Harry nodded.

“You weren’t very hard to read though,” the man admitted switching topics. “Not many guys are as pretty as you are.”

Harry blushed. “I don’t think I’d say pretty,” he protested sheepishly.

“I think you are,” Richard statedly bluntly with a gentle smile as he reached across the table to touch Harry’s fingers.

Harry froze, his heart beating faster. “Thank you,” he managed to whisper, feeling extremely embarrassed. “You’re quite handsome.”

Richard smiled softly. “You’re not used to being pursued are you?”

Harry wasn’t sure how to feel. He shook his head slightly.

Richard looked extremely serious for a moment. “I like to think I’m a gentleman. I won’t force myself on you and I don’t engage in hookups or one-night stands. I’m not looking to embarrass you, but I find you extremely attractive and delightful to be around even after this short time.”

“Nobody has ever called me those things.” Harry looked down at the table.

Richard reached across the table and raised Harry’s chin with his fingers. “It’s my job to meet someone and know as much as I can about them as quickly as possible. Often a case will depend on getting a first impression right, I became quite good at it. It’s also a pretty cutthroat world out there so I’ve learned to never miss an opportunity.”

Harry blinked. “I’m an opportunity?”

Richard shook his head, “I like to take chances in life. I meet someone I want to know better and I take it. You’re someone I want to get to know better.”

“All that from twenty minutes on a surfboard?”

The man smirked. “Let me tell you what I’ve learned so far and you can correct me if I’m wrong ok?”

Harry nodded.

“You’re from a state where few residents ever leave by choice because frankly, it’s beautiful. You live in the city still but still don’t like it and try to escape when you can which means this is a refuge, not a home. You’re a cop, but you’re not some macho douche that wants power. That means you care about people even if they don’t care about you which speaks to an inner sensitivity and care for others. You have a sense of humor that you use to hide your insecurity.”

“I thought you were a lawyer, not a psychiatrist?” Harry asked, feeling as though he was transparent.

Richard smiled, “Similar jobs and skills but you prove my point; more comedy to deflect.”

“Yeah ok you can stop analyzing me, I get it, I’m interesting.”

Harry paused and tried to redirect the conversation toward the other man, “I know so very little about you though, how do I know I’ll like you too? Is there more to you than the courtroom charm and good looks?”

Richard smiled and sipped his beer and shrugged. “I’m afraid you already know so very much about me, I’m an open book.”

“So you’re an attorney, a surfer, a psychiatrist, and a prolific pickup artist?”

“Pretty much yes,” he smiled nonchalantly past his beer bottle.

The two sat and talked for over an hour. Richard, Harry realized, was as open as he purported to be. The man was extremely charming and self-confident, but it wasn’t a false confidence put on as an act; he was comfortable and it was an extremely attractive quality. Harry enjoyed how the man treated him. It was a very new experience for him. Not having dated at home in Montana, his only experiences were the fumbled young experiences of his college days. Those were mediocre at best and soul-crushing at their worst. Since graduating, he’d dated on and off, but he always seemed to end up going out with guys that were obsessed with themselves and only saw him as a physical being. He had spent a great deal of time single and was comfortable in that fact as he hadn’t found the right person but one day might. Richard was a whole different world he found himself in.

Richard made him feel special, important, and valued. He wasn’t a piece of meat or a conquest for someone to use and throw away as had happened in the past. His heart had been broken more than once and this kind, caring gentleman was a salve on that raw wound.
They had left Al-Dente’s shortly before eight and Richard had walked him back to his apartment a few blocks away. The man had shown no fear of holding his hand the entire way there. It was an intimate gesture that made his heart flutter. Conversation between the two had been light and interesting and they arrived outside his apartment sooner than he’d hoped. They stood for a moment near his door.

“I had a lovely night,” Harry said quietly. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine Harry. I would very much like to do this again, but properly,” Richard replied, stroking his fingers along Harry’s cheek.

Butterflies fluttered in Harry’s chest at the touch.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“I know it’s only been a drink, but I would really like to kiss you if that’s ok?” Richard said softly.

Harry couldn’t speak, he nodded slightly and looked up at the man in front of him under the pale light of the porch.

Richard lent down and brushed a strand of hair from Harry’s eyes and gazed into them for a moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered and gently pressed his lips into Harry’s, his arms wrapping around his waist.

Harry felt like he was melting at the man’s touch. He could feel power and control in the man’s gentle and tender grasp. He closed his eyes and slipped his hands around Richard’s neck and felt his lips part.

The two kissed for what felt like hours but in reality, was only mere moments. Richard gently released Harry and stroked his cheek. He reached into a pocket and slipped a business card into Harry’s hand.

“This has my personal cell on it. I’d really be honored if you’d call me,” he asked with a vulnerability Harry hadn’t expected to see. This man actually was hoping he would call him, not demanding or telling, but hoping.

Harry nodded and smiled. “I will,” he answered as he slid through the doorway to his apartment. Closing the door behind him Harry released a breath and lent against the closed door.

Harry wasn’t sure what he’d just experienced. Their date wasn’t anything like any of his past experiences. It had been romantic and exciting. For once, he felt as though he had been respected by a date. This was a man that wanted to spend time with him and get to know him better. Harry realized he wanted the same thing very much. He fingered the business card and glanced at the number on the card.

Richard Knight

He was going to call.

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