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It‟s wedding bells in Waikiki! Honolulu‟s hottest forensic accountant, Mingo McCloud is set to marry his lover, Francois. Friends and family are coming from all over the world and just as the intrepid pair gets ready to say I do, they don‟t. A mysterious woman shows up at the service claiming to be the long lost wife of…not formerly single and straight Francois but Mingo! Mingo is stunned. Not the least because he‟s never dated a woman much less married one. The whole family‟s now in an uproar, especially when the shady lady produced wedding pictures and love letters allegedly written by Mingo. He and Francois are determined to unravel the plot. For Mingo, the shocks don‟t stop coming. Seems he has a trail of busted female hearts behind him, as well as some serious grifting. What the heck is going on? Is he the victim of a conspiracy, or is something else going on? Are parts of him awake when he is sleeping and doing things he knows nothing about? Note to readers: This title is Number 6 in the Mingo McCloud series, but can easily be read as a stand-alone book.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Manacled Copyright © 2011 A.J. Llewellyn ISBN: 978-1-55487-925-0 Cover art by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books Look for us online at: www.eXtasybooks.com

Manacled Mingo McCloud Six By A.J. Llewellyn

Author‟s Note Hawaii‟s Governor, Neil Abercrombie, has passed the same sex civil union bill in the islands with the first unions to start taking place on January 1, 2012. Already, thousands of marriage licenses have been issued. This is a work of fiction, so we are jumping ahead in time with Mingo and Francois being one of the first one hundred couples to get their marriage licenses. This storyline will continue over the next two books. A.J. Llewellyn

Dedication To my wonderful cousin, Chris, and his beautiful husband, Tracy. Together for fifteen years, married for two, the most solid couple I know, gay or straight. This one’s for you. xoxo

Chapter One

“M

om, I don‟t need Lenox dinnerware.” “Michael,” my mother said. It was always a bad sign when she used my actual birth name and not Mingo, the name by which I‟ve been known since I was old enough to back-answer her. “Everybody needs Lenox. Lenox is a luxury. Lenox is sexy dinnerware. Don‟t you and Francois dine in the nude?” I was speechless. I didn‟t feel comfortable discussing naked dining with my mom. “Besides,” she said, her voice dropping to a dull roar, “These are happy looking plates, don‟t you think? With all these pretty birds on them?” “Mom, these are expensive looking plates. And no, we don‟t need them. They‟re twenty-eight bucks apiece.” “It‟s called the Chirp Collection. Tweet! Aren‟t they tweet?” She was beginning to drive me nuts. I should never have agreed to setting up a wedding registry. A Macy‟s sales associate watched us from across an ocean of marked-down stemware. I tried 1

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to smile at her reassuringly. Francois and I were getting married in two weeks. I wanted nothing to go wrong, not when things were romping along so nicely. She‟d been whining at me for weeks for a registry. I cast around desperately for something she could put on her list. “Look, Mom, this Mikasa bowl is nice.” “Mikasa?” Mom‟s head practically swiveled on its axis. She was such a label whore. “I don‟t know.” She dropped the Chirp plate onto a table. It crashed to the floor. The Chirp got chipped. In two. I sighed, wondering what Macy‟s policy was in the „you break it, you buy it‟ department. The sales associate sidled over to us. “I‟m sorry,” she said, not looking sorry at all. I gave her an enquiring glance. “We don‟t do wedding registries for same-sex couples.” “Why not?” I asked, catching a hurt look from my son, Ferric. “Yeah, why not?” echoed my mom, then a couple of her friends chimed in. “Well, er…” The sales associate looked flustered when she realized I‟d come armed with six women who made up the bulk of the formidable emergency room nursing staff of Queen‟s Hospital in Honolulu. She glanced at each of them, one by one. The thought must have crossed her mind that this was a small island and 2

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chances were good she may need to keep them on side. You never know when you might wind up in the emergency room, especially in a town where the locals looked after their own. “Er…” “Well?” my mother asked again. “What do you have to say for yourself?” “Er…” The associate looked sweaty. It wasn‟t a pretty sight. “Er…carry on.” She waved her hand and walked off on unsteady legs. Francois, my soon-to-be-husband and father of Ferric, raced over to me. “I‟m in orbit, babe. I had no idea we got to pick all the things we want and put „em on a list and people actually buy them for us! Straight people have had it made in the shade! For years!” He was so excited and his list so extensive, I kept a smile on my face. “Mingo, you think we can ask for an Xbox 360?” My mother gave a snort of derision. “You‟re supposed to ask for useful things…family things.” “Ferric and I will make good use of an Xbox 360,” my lover said and checked it off his list. He leaned into me, his lips against my ear. “I need to kiss you.” I followed him as he led the way around the corner. Macy‟s in Kailua, the posh side of the island, was jam-packed being a Sunday. Christmas 3

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was coming, and right after that, we were getting married on January first. He shoved me up against a small space between two empty wall units, his mouth clamping down on mine. “Mingo,” he said, the second we paused to take breath, “I can‟t wait to marry you!” “I know, me, too.” We beamed at each other. He pulled me out of the crevice between the two walls by my shirt collar and kissed me again. We were scheduled to get married along with one hundred other couples in the islands. We‟d been among the first to grab our marriage licenses. All week long, family members had been notifying us of their travel arrangements from all over the country. Even Francois‟ sister was coming from her home in St. Martin. She and her husband would be spending Christmas with us and staying for the wedding. She‟d been a bit stunned to learn her big, beefy, macho as hell brother was marrying another man, but she was also happy for us. I was happy for us, too. Francois‟ son, Ferric, who‟d been living with us for almost a year, wanted us to be married. He said he was the only kid in his class whose parents were same-sex and that we should set good examples by being officially wed. He was so right. My only problem was that Francois wanted to invite Ferric‟s mom. I did not. First of all, I 4

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worried that when she saw how happy the three of us were that she would agitate to get Ferric back. Second of all, I knew she still had unresolved feelings for Francois and I did not want her to suddenly jump up in the middle of our ceremony and protest our union. My thoughts sprinted back to the present. Francois was being openly naughty, rubbing my cock through my pants. “Stop that,” I said, knowing I sounded thoroughly unconvincing. “But it‟s my cock, Mingo.” He frowned at me. “Don‟t I get to play with it?” “Of course you do…but you know…not here.” “Mingo, I hope you‟re not going to turn into a fuddy-duddy now we‟re going to be old married men?” “Fuddy-duddy? Me?” Actually, the thought had crossed my mind, but I chose to change the subject. “You can fuck me as soon as we get home.” That put a smile back on his face. We returned to the glassware department, where my mother held a gigantic espresso maker aloft. “Do you have this in avocado green?” she asked the sales associate. “I‟m going to paint Mingo‟s kitchen as a surprise.” “No, you‟re not,” I said quickly. My mother‟s kitchen is avocado green with accents of eggplant 5

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purple. It‟s ghastly. Francois and I walk through it with our eyes closed. “Aw, grandma, you‟re so sweet.” Ferric draped his arm around Mom‟s shoulders. “You, too, baby.” They had such a love fest going. I sometimes got a little bit jealous. I noticed Mom had slipped a few items for Ferric on her wedding registry list. There was some method to his apparent madness, after all. “I‟m hungry,” Mom suddenly announced. “Me, too,” Francois said. “Who‟s up for Zippy‟s?” “Me!” We all shouted. We stampeded over to the computer where another sales associate, a young man who seemed a lot more gay-friendly, input all our items into the computer and registered it as the Amaury-McCloud wedding. “Don‟t forget my Xbox 360,” Francois said. “I need that thing. It will help keep me in tip-top shape for Mingo.” The guy working the computer grinned. “It will?” I asked Francois. “How?” “Keep my reflexes sharp…you know, for chasing you around the bed.” I grinned. Ferric groaned. “Aw, geez, Dad…too much information.” Francois shrugged. “Can‟t help it, son. I‟m loopy over goofy.” Goofy? That about summed me up. I tried not 6

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to think negative thoughts. Goofy was cute…right? He wouldn‟t be marrying me if goofy was a bad thing. Francois‟ cell phone chirped. “Hmmm.” He frowned. “Something wrong?” I asked. “Ferric‟s mom declined the invitation.” I tried hard to hide my glee. Really, I did. He and Shenice had never had an actual relationship, per se. They‟d been friends and Francois had been her go-to guy when she was desperate to have a baby and there was no permanent partner in sight. If I could have made babies I would have chosen him, too. Big, black and drop-dead gorgeous, his nickname in the islands was The Black Rhino when I first met him. Now it was Goofy‟s Boyfriend. I hadn‟t known about Ferric until Francois and I were already living together and Shenice‟s new husband wanted nothing to do with her thirteenyear-old son. I still didn‟t understand it. I fell in love with Ferric the moment I met him. Neither Francois nor I could imagine our lives without him now. Neither could Mom, who has become active in his new school and dotes on the kid. We all trooped down the road to Zippy‟s where we loaded up on chili, hamburgers and for me, a mahi mahi plate lunch. Ferric sat beside me showing me the crazy huge sales of the new iPad 7

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app he‟d created and marketed all by himself. It‟s called Creepozoid and in it, you get to bump off your mom‟s lousy boyfriend pics. He says he was inspired by my mom‟s chaotic love life. Her last paramour, a weirdo called Angelo, allowed Ferric to use his name as the star creepozoid. “Ten thousand?” I squinted at the number on his cell phone. “You‟ve sold ten thousand apps?” “Uh-huh.” He looked so happy. “A dollar apiece, Dad. I‟m so geeked.” Geeked? My kid had just earned ten grand overnight. He made me feel like a slouch. “I wanna play,” Mom said. “I didn‟t get to bump off Angelo in real life. I‟d like to shoot his ass up in an app.” Ferric grinned and handed his phone over. I watched Francois handle my mother‟s nursing pals who all wanted to know why he was still single and why he preferred men over women. “But I‟m not single,” he said, dipping a French fry into Mom‟s turkey chili. “I‟m engaged to Mingo and I would have loved him no matter whether he was a man or a woman.” The women all sighed. My mom beamed at him. She had a big ol‟ soft spot for my guy. As did I. We gave up the three tables we‟d been hogging and with hugs for our shopping crew, Francois, Ferric, Mom and I returned home. Mom was all 8

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excited about the wedding rehearsal dinner taking place in twelve days. We‟d invited a few close friends. Two days after that was the big day. The day we‟d get hitched. We‟d chosen to get married on the beach and to have the reception in our beautiful garden. Mom had organized the catering with one of her luau buddies. “A wedding luau,” she said now, as we drove through our gates. “It‟s such good luck to have a luau when you get married.” “So is sex before the honeymoon,” Francois responded, pushing me through the back door and into the kitchen the second he‟d shut off the car engine. Our spacious bamboo and granite kitchen, which was my favorite room apart from the bedroom I shared with Francois, had been wedding central for a few weeks now. We had sampled all kinds of dishes, dozens of wedding cakes and had even figured out a seating plan for the backyard based on who was feuding with whom, who was secretly fucking whom (and being a small island, sometimes people fell into both categories) and also whom we were trying to pair off together. “Too much information!” our son shouted as Francois and I ran to our bedroom. Francois kicked the door shut as soon as we entered the room and he pulled me to him. I 9

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luxuriated in the feel of his big muscular arms, loving the feel of his smiling lips descending on mine. For a man who used to be straight and enjoyed the odd manly dalliance, he had gone to the dark side completely and totally craved cock. His tongue shot into my mouth, one hand squeezing my ass, the other moving between our molded bodies, rubbing at my erection which was now humping his thigh. He kissed and licked my lips. He was the most oral man I‟d ever met. His fingers negotiated the buttons on my jeans, flicking them open with breathless ease. He inched my jeans down over my hips, leaving my tiny Calvin Klein underpants he liked me to wear lingering, just barely, over my ass and package. His fingers shot under my ball sac and he began to tease me through the tight fabric. I wanted the underpants off. He kept kissing me however so I kicked off my shoes and shimmied my jeans down to my ankles. He kept stroking my cock and balls so that the shaft jutted painfully across the front of the pants. With one crook of his finger, my cock shot out of the side of the undies. He knelt before me. “Mmmm…” he said, putting a small kiss on my cock head. He moved it to one side, his sights on my balls. He captured one with his warm, wet mouth, sucking it in. Hard. He released me then 10

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worked on the second ball. He kept taunting me until I moved my hips, my cock grazing his beautiful, wide mouth. He looked up at me with his melting-moment brown eyes and quickly claimed me. I hadn‟t realized how agitated I‟d been until he began to suck me. Francois worked on me as I tried to reach down and remove his shirt but he was too far gone, guzzling my cock, drunk with it. He ran his hands up and down my hips as he sucked me all the way into his mouth. He came off me, turning me around, pushing me so that I now knelt over the edge of our bed. His face went right to my ass, sucking and licking. He pushed his face in as deep as he could, my rigid cock getting quite a workout against our bedspread. His fingers moved under my body, cupping my balls as he tongued my hole. I moaned into the bedspread, my spirits spiraling as he worked at me. Heaven. His fingers slid up my shaft to the cock head. He could feel how wet I was and groaned. He used some of the leaking fluid to coat my ass, not that I needed it. He‟d fucked me before we‟d left the house and I still had his juices inside me. “Don‟t come, Mingo,” he warned. “You‟ll come much harder when I‟m inside you.” “Yeah, yeah. Hurry.” He threw his clothes off and I could feel his 11

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bare chest on my back as he moved behind me, pushing up my shirt tail. Bracing myself on my knees, I threw my shirt off over my head. Francois squatted on the bed, his mouth feasting on me. When he lifted his face away and his cock began to poke at me, I begged him for it. “Please, please.” He made an impatient noise. We were always so eager for one another. My forehead hit the bed as he began to enter me slowly. He found more space on the bed, working his hips into me, his hands holding me hard and still to his body. I worked my ass back up at him and he slammed into me all the way. Thank God. Francois fucked me good and hard. His hands kept moving between my lower back, up to my shoulders and then under my body. He cupped my cock with tight fingers. He seemed to know exactly when I was going to come because he jerked me faster, tighter, until we came together. It was blissful. Absolutely blissful. He stayed on top of me. I am sure we would have started all over again if it hadn‟t been for my mom hammering at the door. “Hey!” she shouted. “There‟s a strange woman here to see you.” Francois reluctantly pulled out of me. We cleaned up as best we could in our en suite 12

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bathroom. I grabbed a sarong from the chair by our bed, Francois grabbing a towel from the warming rack in the bathroom. We wrapped them around ourselves. I opened the door, Francois right beside me. “She…” Mom‟s bottom lip wobbled and her voice quivered as she pointed a shaky finger down the hallway. “She says you can‟t get married because you‟re already married…to her!” “But I‟ve never been married in my life,” Francois sputtered, tumbling out of our room, gripping the towel ends with one hand, at his waist. Mom looked past him to me. “Not you, Francois. Mingo!” “Me?” I couldn‟t believe my ears. “I‟ve never even dated a woman, much less married one.” “Mingo!” Francois turned and stared at me. “I can‟t believe you married someone else!” I clutched my sarong as I staggered after him. “But I didn‟t!” In the kitchen, we saw a woman who was not particularly attractive, but certainly memorable. She wore a retro style 1940s dress that sat six inches above the knee and didn‟t flatter her figure. Nor did the body-stumping white socks and Doc Martin boots she‟d chosen to wear with it. My gaze flew back to her face. I‟d never seen a more 13

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shocking shade of fire-engine red hair in my life. I could say with absolute certainty I‟d never seen her before in my life. “Mingo, darling! I knew I‟d find you again!” She ran to me, throwing her arms around my resistant body. I tried to beat her off with my fists but she was a tenacious thing. “Darling,” she said again, holding me tighter in her pudgy arms until my face smashed into her massive, billowing breasts. She almost suffocated me. “Get the fuck off me, lady!” I pushed her away and turned to Francois, who looked pale and shocked. “Mingo…you…and…a…woman.” “Francois. You‟ve got to believe me. I‟ve never seen her before. Ever!” “Yeah?” he asked, his eyes glittering with anger. “Then how do you explain these?” He held up a stack of photographs. I snatched them from his fingers. I rifled through them. Wedding photos. Hideous, happy, wedding photos. And guess who the groom was? Yeah, me. Goofy.

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Chapter Two

I

stared at the photos. The room fell silent. I went through the stack. Then I went through it a second time and then, a third. I looked several years younger and frankly, she looked younger and a hell of a lot thinner and prettier. The intervening years hadn‟t been kind to her. I kept staring at a smiling me, and a simpering her, standing in front of a piano, with photos on the wall behind us and a huge wedding cake in front of us. My big smile and her chin on my shoulder in one of the photos unglued me. I didn‟t recognize the room. I still didn‟t remember her. Not even the damned cake. I had to sit down. “We got married at my dad‟s house. Don‟t tell me you don‟t remember. You used to go squirrel hunting together!” Squirrel hunting? Me? I love animals. I certainly don‟t shoot them. “Are you okay, Mingo?” my mom asked. “You look kind of…green.” 15

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“No, I‟m not okay.” I had no idea where the photos had come from. I knew it was a clever photo-shopping job. Or else, I‟d totally lost my mind. I wondered, you know how you can be awake and your foot can fall asleep? Was it possible that whilst I‟d been sleeping, parts of me were fully awake and wandering around doing things I knew nothing about? “What‟s your name?” I asked the woman. “Ashley McCloud.” McCloud? She had my name? She had to be friggin‟ kidding me. “How long have we been married?” “Don‟t you remember?” “Of course not!” I snapped, “Because it never fucking happened!” “Yes, it did.” “No, it didn‟t.” “Language, Michael, language,” my mother said. “Fuck language,” my lover shouted. “I feel so…so…used!” “Francois. I never used you! Please believe me. This is insane!” “Liar, liar, pants on fire. I have the marriage license.” Ashley slid a piece of paper toward me. Now things were getting weirder. When the hell had I ever been in Buffalo, New York? “When were you in Buffalo?” Mom asked, 16

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echoing my thoughts. “Never.” “Yes, you were. Seven years ago. Getting married to me!” “Stop saying that!” “What‟s going on?” Ferric asked, suddenly appearing at the kitchen door. “Your father‟s been cheating on me!” Francois shouted. “He‟s married. To her. To a…woman!” Ferric burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me right now? Dad? With a woman?” He stopped laughing when he saw everyone‟s faces. He grabbed the photos and went through them. “Oh, Mingo. How could you!” Mom covered her face with her hands. “After I went and got all that therapy so I‟d be okay about you being gay.” “You got therapy?” She nodded. “He said it‟s not my fault or even your fault. He said that you were born that way.” I just stared at her. “I had no idea you weren‟t okay with it, Mom.” “Mingo.” She sighed. “No mother wakes up and says, „gee, I wish my son was gay‟, but once I got used to the idea and really, once I realized the reason you‟re so sweet was because you‟re gay, it was easy!” Who the hell was this woman and what had she done with my mother? What the devil was she crapping on about? She knew I was gay before I 17

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did! “My friends have all felt sorry for me because I didn‟t get to have the big wedding and grandkids. I have a certain standing in this community because of it. Now I‟ve got Ferric I want my big wedding, Mingo. Don‟t you take that from me! I love my grandson!” I felt the bile rising in my throat. This couldn‟t be happening to me. Ferric. How was I gonna explain this lunacy to him when I didn‟t get it myself? “You have to get a quickie divorce, Michael. You can‟t be a bigamist.” “I‟m not a bigamist. I‟m not married!” I knew Mom was freaked out. She‟d just called me Michael three times in one day. “We did get married. You left me!” Ashley insisted. “We were on our honeymoon at the Buffalo Marriott right near Niagara Falls and I woke up in the morning and you were gone.” My head started spinning. “I‟ve never been to Niagara Falls.” “Yes, you have. On our honeymoon!” “Stop saying that.” I stamped my foot. I was hating myself right now. What was I doing seven years ago? “Why has it taken you seven years to come looking for me?” I asked Ashley. “And what do you want?” 18

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“That‟s a good question,” Francois said. “What is it that you want?” “My husband.” “Oh, my God!” I shrieked. “You promised to love, honor and cherish me!” Ashley pointed an accusatory finger at me. “You promised.” “I‟ve never owned a purple suit,” I insisted. “Ever.” It seemed nicer to say that instead of what was really on m mind, that I could never, no matter how drunk I got get married and promise to cherish…her. I sounded pathetic, but I had to get someone to believe me. “Ferric,” I said, picking him out of the hostile faces in the room since he was looking at me with total pity. “You believe me, don‟t you?” “It‟s goofy,” my son said, holding up the photo stack. “Goofy enough to be you…but…” A strange expression crossed his face. “What?” I asked. “What is it, Ferric?” He‟d noticed something in the photos. I was certain of it. He shook his head, dismay etched in his eyes. It killed me to see that. “Nothing, Dad. I‟m just so disappointed. I‟m still gonna be the kid in school whose gay parents aren‟t married.” “Not true,” Francois shouted, waving his arms around. “Mingo‟s married. To someone else!” 19

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“I‟m not married. And I swear I never owned a purple suit! I do have some taste, you know.” “It‟s not purple. It‟s tyrian,” Ashley said. “Favored by ancient royal families.” “Shut up!” I clapped my hands over my ears. My stomach heaved. “I think I‟m going to be sick.” I tottered off to the bedroom I shared with Francois and hoped I still would be after this mess. I threw up before I could reach the toilet in our en suite bathroom. He was right behind me and for a guy who‟d just gotten some really bad news, he was a real peach. “Lie down, babe,” he said. He led me to the bed. I followed his orders, but the room wouldn‟t stop spinning. “Stay there, Mingo. I‟ll be right back.” “Don‟t leave me.” “I‟m not going anywhere. I‟m getting you a cold compress.” “I keep seeing her huge breasts in my mind. My God. There‟s no way I coulda married her. I like dicks!” Francois gave me a shit-eating grin. “Close „em,” he said, putting his hand over my eyes. I closed „em, fighting the nausea that kept rising in my throat. I felt him sitting beside me on the bed. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” “Uh-huh.” 20

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“Well, I‟m giving you one chance to come clean. It‟s okay if you got drunk, woke up beside her and fled when you realized you‟d goofed.” “I did not goof. And I didn‟t marry her!” “Okay, okay.” He patted me head. “Keep your sarong on. Just relax now, babe.” He closed the door and I was all alone. Why, why, why? Just when my life was coming together, it was exploding at the seams. I could see Francois leaving me and taking Ferric with him. Oh, my God! This house belonged to Francois. It was in his name. I could see myself joining all the homeless families camped out on Ewa Beach. I‟d be the famous gay goofball married to a woman he‟d never before met. I couldn‟t live in a tent city. I wouldn‟t know how to pitch a tent. Misery washed over me. I‟d be the goofy guy who‟d apparently gotten married in a suit the color of which I couldn‟t even spell. I began to find it difficult to breathe. I was hyperventilating. Tears and vomit choked my throat. I started to sit up as the bedroom door reopened. Francois was back. He had a cold compress in his hands and a smile on his face. “I just called Sage Brantley.” I stared at him, mute. I couldn‟t speak. I was about to barf again. “Oh, Mingo.” His face softened when he realized I 21

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was sick and he raced me into the bathroom. A man must love you when he holds your head and tells you he loves you as you‟re barking at the floor tiles. He lifted me up from the floor, washed my sweat and tear-streaked face, helped me brush my teeth and carried me back to bed. I clung to him as he lay beside me. He put the cold compress on my forehead. “So, babe, I called Sage.” “Uh-huh.” Sage was a good guy to call since he was an FBI agent. “I told him what happened. He‟s going to check the Hall of Records in Buffalo, New York and our son is examining the photos. He says he thinks it‟s one of the best photo scams he‟s ever seen.” “Oh, Francois!” I was so overcome with relief that I reached for him. “Not so quick, lover man. Until we sort out this mess, we can‟t get married…yet.” “I‟ll kill her!” “Get in line, pal.” Oh, he was still angry. “You really didn‟t marry her, Mingo?” “Of course not!” He nodded. “I believe you. I can‟t believe how jealous I am.” He moved the compress from my clammy head and put a kiss right between my eyes. “I love you, Francois.” 22

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“Mingo, I love you, too. I better call my sister and tell her not to come.” “Oh, my God!” “Sweetheart, it‟s okay. We‟ll get through this. Honest.” “I did not get married in a purple suit.” “You‟re really sure?” “Yes, I‟m sure!” He grinned. “I was just kidding, babe. Listen, Sage is on his way.” “Where is she?” “Who?” “Ashley McCloud.” “I asked her to leave. I told her we needed time.” “What does she want? I mean, really? Who put her up to this? Don‟t you think it‟s freaky?” “Oh, Mingo. You took the words right out of my mouth.” He paused. “I stuck a bug inside her cell phone when she wasn‟t looking. I‟ve got a real bad feeling about her and it isn‟t just that she‟s trying to stop me from marrying you.” “Oh, God.” It seemed my most reliable refrain. I got off the bed, trotting to the bathroom. I thought I might be sick again. Francois followed me. “She isn‟t far. She‟s staying down the road at a bed and breakfast in Turtle Bay. You know with your exercise buddy, Hana. Hana told her where we live.” 23

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“That‟s weird,” I said, splashing cool water on my face. “How does she know Hana?” “No idea. I mean, Hana rents to locals. She rents to people who come surfing here every winter for the big waves. It‟s not like she advertises. I‟ve put a call through to her. Let‟s see what she says.” “Oh, friggin‟ great.” I snatched the compress out of his hand and dropped it over my eyes again. “I bet she told Hana about being my wife and now Hana will tell the whole world.” I lay back on the bed again, as Francois put the compress back over my eyes. My thoughts kept racing. I sat up suddenly, the compress falling into my lap. “Oh, Francois, please don‟t make me go and live in a tent!” He stared at me. “What are you talking about?” “Please just let me stay with you,” I whimpered. He frowned, his nose crinkling in an appealing way. “You really are goofy, babe. I don‟t think we have a tent, do we?” His cell phone rang and he began taking calls. I heard him calling his sister. He called my frequent boss, Benny Leonard. I‟m certain I heard both of them laughing when they heard the words “Mingo” and “wife” uttered in the same sentence. Benny, a criminal defense attorney is involved with Sage, who is still reluctant to fully commit to 24

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a gay relationship but does seem to adore Benny. Once Benny heard his boyfriend was coming over, he invited himself too, suggesting I might need an attorney. I pulled myself together and threw on some clothes. Francois was already dressed. He looked grim and I felt terrible that it was somehow my fault that he seemed so unhappy. “No rehearsal dinner,” he said. “No wedding cake.” In the kitchen, we learned we were stuck with the wedding feast. We couldn‟t cancel the deal. “God, Mingo,” Francois said. “I feel weird eating cake with somebody else‟s husband.” “I‟m not her husband!” I shrieked. This time he laughed. “Relax, babe. Our son‟s got it figured out. He says there is no way you got married and had a white-tiered fruit cake.” My jaw hung half open. Ferric knew me too well. It was true that I‟d made a big fuss about wanting a Spiderman wedding cake, only because just like the bike I never got when I was a kid, I was the only boy in my class who never got a Spiderman birthday cake. I wanted my favorite caped crusader on my wedding cake. Only Ferric had sided with me on that issue and I‟d finally won since Francois realized how important it was to me. We were getting a three-tiered Spiderman cake with one layer of butterscotch for Francois, 25

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one layer of chocolate for me and a top layer of lemon chiffon because it‟s Ferric‟s favorite. “Oh, Ferric!” I rushed over to my son and hugged him. “It‟s okay, Dad.” He patted my back. “I think we have a beautiful mystery here and I want to help you unravel it. I mean, you know, for realz.” I grinned for the first time since this whole thing had started. My kid was starting to speak like a local. I took a deep breath. I needed coffee. That would help me think straight. Francois, Ferric and Mom sat around the kitchen table whilst I put the coffee on. I got a strong whiff of paint, looked around and almost screamed. My mom had painted half of one wall avocado green. “Don‟t you say a word, Michael,” my mother warned. “Right now you need all the friends you‟ve got.” I clamped my lips shut. She was right. Purple suits and green kitchens. I sure was the man without a lick of taste. The front doorbell rang. “I‟ll get it,” Francois said. He gave me a warning look. I had the idea he wanted a word alone with Sage before we all talked. I wondered if Francois was going to bail on me before all this was over. Very early in our relationship, we‟d had a threesome with Sage who‟d never been with a man but thought he might be gay. We‟d fooled 26

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around with him a few times, but once Francois and I got custody of Ferric, the fooling around stopped. I could hear them laughing at the front door. “Mingo and a woman!” Sage kept saying. “Don‟t let him hear you laughing,” I heard my man saying. “He‟s very upset.” By the time they came into the kitchen, they had straight faces. Just. Sage carried two laptops in fancy schmancy cases. He set them up on the kitchen table as Mom helped me move menus and wedding magazines off the top of it. “There‟s a hundred bucks in it for you if you can clear up this nonsense by Sunday.” She touched her nose as she leaned into Sage. He stared at her. A hundred bucks. He knew she meant business. “The priest at my church is saying a special prayer for my boys that day. I can‟t have him saying prayers for a bigamist. God might smite me in the eye or something.” “I‟m not a bigamist!” “I‟ll do my best,” Sage said, looking solemn. He turned to me. “Let‟s see those photos.” He slipped on latex gloves and took hold of them, barely stifling wild laughter. He looked at them, then he scanned them into his laptop. “How many people touched these?” 27

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My family members stared at one other. “All of us,” I said. “Shit. Fingerprints. I never even thought about that and I‟m the damned security expert,” Francois said. “Jesus, Mingo. I love you so much my brain fucking flew out the window.” “Don‟t swear, Dad.” Ferric frowned at him, then swiveled his gaze to Sage. “Are you really going to check the photos for fingerprints?” He looked excited. “Sure,” Sage said, enjoying his moment in the sun. “You want to help?” Ferric looked ecstatic. He scooted into the bench seat beside Sage and I watched as Sage passed Ferric some gloves, then dust the photographs. “We need to check everyone in the house, too,” Sage said. Mom and I gave up our paw prints, Ferric and Francois next. Sage kept muttering to himself. His phone kept ringing. He glanced up at me. “I need to ask you a few things. Were you ever in Buffalo, New York?” “Nope.” “Hmmm. Where were you June twentieth, seven years ago?” I had to think. “I was in grad school on the mainland, but on the west coast. As a matter of fact, I was interning for a fantastic forensic accountant, Jerry Taffin in Los Angeles. He can 28

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verify that I never missed a day of work.” Sage beamed at me, then glanced at Francois. “I adore accountants. They are so precise.” Francois put his hand on my butt and squeezed. “I adore accountants, too.” “I have a clerk in Erie County, which governs Buffalo, checking marriage records. Should have some news, soon.” Focusing on breathing, I would have said something about the way he kept pausing to slap his legs and laugh at me, but I knew he was genuinely trying to help me. His cell phone rang as he did a digital transposing of the photos into his database. “Brantley,” he said, taking the call, cradling the phone against his shoulder as he typed. He suddenly stopped. “Hey, that‟s interesting.” Thanks, Celia, I owe you.” He glanced at me. “She suspects it‟s an excellent forgery but she has to manually check records. Their computer system crashed. Part of the reason she suspects it‟s a forgery is because this certificate is a duplicate allegedly issued two days ago, but they have had a crisis in Erie County. No certificates have been coming out of their offices since Monday.” “Oh, joy!” I said. “Then we can get married!” Mom exclaimed, clapping her hands together. 29

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“Not yet.” Sage grimaced. “We still need official proof.” He glanced from Francois to me. “You‟re close friends with the Governor. Can‟t you ask him to change your wedding date?” “No can do,” Mom said. “Everything‟s booked and paid for. Do you know how many arms I had to twist to get people to prepare a wedding feast on New Year‟s Day?” “Yeah, there‟s a trail of broken bones in her rearview mirror,” Francois cracked. That got him a fish-eyed look from Mom. Always inclined to look on the bright side of things, I chose cake. “We‟re having a Spiderman wedding cake!” I said. “Ah, yes.” Sage grinned. “I heard about your wedding cake.” He resumed typing. “Coffee?” I asked. “What‟s the matter with you?” he asked me. “Is that all I get? I dropped everything and came right over. Can‟t I get a donut or something as well?” “We have some wedding cake samples,” Ferric said. “There‟s some raspberry meringue cake left in the fridge.” “That sounds delish,” Sage agreed. “And no cream or sugar in my coffee, please.” Ferric fake-saluted Sage behind his back. Francois grabbed me and held me. “I have a good feeling about this, babe. I‟m gonna be manacled to you if it‟s the last thing I do.” 30

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“Me, too,” I said, edging toward a new sense of confidence. I still felt shaken, trying to figure out why this crazy woman had gone to such an elaborate scheme in the first place. What the hell had I ever done to her? “Well,” Sage said, “I am pleased to inform you that the photos are fake.” “I knew it!” Mom said. “So did I,” I said. Ferric nodded. “Me, too.” “I‟m gonna whup that bitch‟s ass,” Francois said. “Language,” Ferric and Mom said in unison. “I have this new software program that actually analyzes the shading grades of photographs. It means I can run the photo digitally through a special imagery wash and it can tell me to a degree whether all the components in a single photo were legitimately taken at the same time.” We all hung on his words. “And?” Mom asked. “These photos are actually four different pictures cut and pasted together. Four separate and identifiable grades.” Sage looked each of us in the eye. “A layman couldn‟t detect the shading differences but all those celebrities who‟ve found their heads grafted onto nude bodies will soon be a thing of the past.” “This software will start showing up on apps, 31

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won‟t it?” Ferric asked. Sage nodded. “Probably.” He turned his laptop around so I could see the screen. “Mingo, look at this photo of you standing in front of the piano. I hadn‟t noticed at first, but Ferric pointed it out. Look at the picture frame on the wall behind you. If you look at the glass in the picture, you‟re not reflected in it. Only the chick in the wedding dress.” Francois and I looked. He was right. “How did she get a photo of me with her head on my shoulder?” “Cut and pasted it. You must have had some photos taken and she‟s digitally altered the same photo to give you a slightly different smile each time. She—or whoever faked these photos—used Poser, a digital artist‟s program, to paint over your smile and change your expression, even put strands of hair over your eyes. It‟s one hell of a clever job.” He showed us how the detection software had picked out the four distinct photo components. The woman was in one half of every photo. Her halves were different from the other half each and every time. They had inserted the man in the purple suit into the other half of each photo. “This is scary,” I said. “You could easily mock up a photo of a person doing…almost anything.” “Exactly,” Sage said. “And it‟s happening more 32

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and more. We‟re getting cases of guys being blackmailed with sex photos when they‟ve never had the sex to begin with. That‟s why this software was developed. It‟s genius. Look at this. You‟re like the cherry on the photographic cake. Each and every time, your head‟s been added on top of the body.” “The final component,” Ferric said. “Dad, who hates you this much?” I kept staring at it wondering the same thing. Why would anyone go to so much trouble to put my head onto another man‟s body? Who hated me so much they didn‟t want to see me happy?” Sage went on. “Somebody went to great lengths to try and blend the background, but they used an antiquated method of Paintbrush. The software picked up on it right away.” Sage started laughing. “Sorry to tell you, Mingo, that suit is yours.” “Hell, no it is not!” “Yes, it is. I ran some data to see where the suit came from. This photo came from your high school year book, but the photo I see online here shows that the suit was pale blue.” Holy, shit. High school. And he was right. I‟d allowed my mother to pick the suit. Man, she might have fucked me up for life! “His high school year book‟s online?” Ferric asked. “I didn‟t think they had the internet back in 33

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the day.” “Geez, Ferric, thanks for making me feel old!” “No, you‟re right,” Sage said, giving Ferric an appreciative look. “They didn‟t even have decent computers then, but Punahou School where your dad used to go just uploaded all their yearbooks online.” “I‟m going there too now,” Ferric said. “I love my school, but just in case you get any funny ideas, Dad, I‟m not wearing a blue suit. Never. Not ever.” “Got it.” “So anyone could have accessed these yearbooks?” Francois asked. Sage agreed. “These photos come up under a basic Google search using Mingo‟s name. It looks like the school posted these older yearbooks on their website…kinda boasting about their successful graduates.” He paused, clicking keys and looked up at me again. “Mingo, does the name Carrie Oakey mean anything to you?” Ferric began to laugh. “Her name is karaoke?” “No,” I said. “It‟s Carrie O-a-k-e-y. My God, I haven‟t thought about her in ages.” “Who is she?” Sage asked. “To you, I mean?” I took a deep breath. “Carrie Oakey was my friend in college. We went to school together as kids and went to Stanford University together.” 34

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“And?” he prompted. “Wow…how weird. How does she tie in with this?” “Just answer the question.” I shrugged. “We both went to the same graduate school. It was for a Master‟s degree in forensic accounting. We both got an internship with this hotshot Beverly Hills forensic accountant but we came home for a brief vacation over the Christmas break first.” “When was this?” “Seven years ago.” “And what happened?” Mom and I stared at each other. These were painful memories which weren‟t too much fun to have stirred up. “What gives?” Sage asked, as he kept typing things on his laptop. “She went to visit some boyfriend in Maui. None of us had ever met the guy. I stayed here to visit with my mom. I didn‟t have much contact with Carrie that week. All I do know is that she drove up to a remote trail in Haiku for a hike one day. She left voicemail messages for me and one for her parents. She was big into rediscovering the Hawaiian side of her family at that time. She was excited that some locals had told her about a sacred trail.” “That‟s right,” Mom said. “She was going to the 35

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Birthing Pools. In the old days, it‟s been said that the ancient Hawaiian queens would go there for their final weeks of their pregnancies. They said the gods came there. Any child born there with the high mana, the high vibrations, would have sacred protection.” “So what happened?” Sage asked. “She vanished,” I said. “Vanished?” He gaped at me. Mom and I both sat silent for a moment. “We flew to Maui together to help her family search for her when some tourists found her car near the Pauwela Lighthouse,” I said. “It was awful. You could probably find tons of people who still remember. The cops brought sniffer dogs and everything. It was eerie. There was never a trace of her. We always thought it was foul play because the driver side door had been left open…but there was no sign of her. Her wallet and keys were still in there. She never used any of her cards. She just fell off the face of the earth. We all assumed something really awful happened to her.” “Well…” Sage sat back and scratched his chin. “Let me tell you this much. I can help solve one mystery for you. Carrie Oakey is alive and well. I checked her fingerprints and the IDs confirmed. She‟s the woman who now claims to be your lawfully wedded wife.” 36

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Chapter Three

“B

ut, Sage, that‟s impossible.” I frowned. “How can this be? This woman looks nothing like Carrie and nobody has ever heard from her since she disappeared!” “She‟s alive.” he said. “This is freaky, Sage.” I glanced at my mother who looked absolutely stricken. “Did he really just say that Carrie‟s still alive, Mingo?” “Yeah. Can you believe it?” “You need something to drink?” Francois put his hands on our shoulders. “I—I don‟t know. I think I feel sick.” Mom sat down. We both fell silent. “But…this woman looks nothing like the Carrie Oakey I knew.” I said again. “She was beautiful.” “Beautiful?” Francois gave me a sharp look. “Francois, I‟m gay, not blind. I can appreciate a beautiful woman.” 37

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Sage had picked up his cell phone and started making calls. I was in shock. Could Carrie really be alive? And if so why was she doing this to me? “Maybe it‟s a coincidence, this name of hers,” Mom said. “It‟s possible. But still…I don‟t get it.” Sage ended his call. “There‟s also another set of prints on two of the photos but they‟re too smudged for me to get an accurate scan. What the hell did you do this woman?” “I‟ve been asking myself the same damned thing.” Carrie Oakey. Alive. It couldn‟t be…or could it? I dropped into a chair at the table, dumfounded by this news. Carrie Oakey…where had she been all this time? “Mingo, I can explain why this woman looks nothing like the Carrie you knew.” Sage reached over and patted my hand. “She‟s had extensive reconstructive surgery. She says she woke up in a hospital outside Seattle, Washington. She‟d been attacked and left for dead.” “Seattle, Washington?” I repeated. “That makes no sense. She disappeared in Maui.” “Did anyone actually see her there?” “Wow. Good question. She was definitely in Maui. We flew here together. She spent one night with me at Mom‟s and flew to Maui the next day. We were supposed to fly back to the mainland 38

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together January second.” “But she disappeared.” “Right.” “Did anyone see her on this alleged hike of hers?” “Well, they must have. Besides, she‟d rented a car and her purse and keys were left in it.” “When she disappeared, did anyone come forward and say they‟d seen her on this hiking trail?” “She ran into friends at a gas station on the way. She was buying gas and bottled water. She was excited about the hike.” “But nobody actually saw her on the trail?” “Not as far as I know. To be honest nobody questioned it. We just had no idea what happened and then they found her car.” “Mingo, can I ask you something?” “Sure.” “Why did you want to pursue a career as a forensic accountant?” I smiled. Finally an easy question. “I wanted to pursue a career in criminal law. This was a new business at the time and I loved it. And Carrie, well, she…” God. It was too weird. “She wanted to open a vineyard.” “A vineyard?” Sparks flew in his eyes and I wondered why. “Yeah. She grew up in a vineyard in Northern 39

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California. It was her obsession. I think when her family lost the vineyard and she saw all her dreams of being a wealthy vintner evaporating, she kinda lost it. She took all those extra accounting courses to run an empire. She was bitter about her father going bust.” “How close were you?” I shrugged. “We went to college together, like I said. We took an extra course in forensic accounting each summer. We kinda egged each other on but that last winter before she disappeared, she definitely wasn‟t the same. There was an edge to her.” He nodded. “She‟s spent the last five years of her life making one hell of a mess of it.” He looked up from his screen to gaze into my eyes. “She‟s in a world of hurt, Mingo. She bought her vineyard in the Napa Valley and won several awards. She was registered as Carrie Oakey, then she started adding McCloud to her last name. She even has a McCloud line.” “Oh, my God.” “The bad news is that she‟s been peddling counterfeit wine and she‟s facing some pretty hefty charges.” “What?” Mom and I said in unison. “None of this makes sense,” I insisted. “Her disappearance was pretty big news here. How did she just pop up someplace else and start again 40

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without any of us knowing?” “It was seven years ago, right? Probably didn‟t make much news outside of the islands since she was a local. Nothing was ever followed up about it here. I can‟t see anything about it online.” I had no response for that. I‟d gone back to California and pursued my graduate degree, working for Jerry Taffin and got paid employment with him immediately upon my graduation. In my non-existent spare time, I‟d tried to investigate Carrie‟s disappearance. You could say in fact, she was my first case. I‟d followed her money trail and that‟s how I knew she‟d never touched her considerable bank account. “So she lay low for two years, got plastic surgery and invented disfiguration…but I still don‟t get why she wants to pretend she married me.” “You got the successful career. You got the kudos.” “How did she wind up in a hospital in Seattle?” Mom said. Sage shrugged. “Why is she pretending she‟s Mingo‟s wife? She always was a bit of a cukoo bird. Not that I like speaking ill of the dead. Which…erm…she‟s not.” Mom looked confused and who could blame her? “What‟s going on?” Francois asked. “What‟s she up to?” 41

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I knew he‟d put a bug in her cell phone but I didn‟t like to mention this in front of Sage. “Are you sure you haven‟t been in contact with her at all in the last seven years?” Sage asked. “Absolutely.” “Then why are you listed as one of the trustees on her board of directors?” I had no response. I was too freaked out. The intercom from our front gate rang. It was Benny. “What‟s he doing here?” Sage asked. “Oh, please don‟t tell him I‟m here. I need space. The man‟s like a human octopus.” Sage began to throw things into his laptop bags. “Stall him,” he said. He climbed out of the kitchen window. “I didn‟t park on your property. I parked down the road. He stalks me, you know.” “No, I didn‟t know,” I said as Benny leaned on the bell again. Francois and I had to let our favorite attorney in. He seemed to be in a brilliant mood and even made jokes and actually asked how we were. In the kitchen, he stopped at the door. “Where‟s Sage?” “He left,” Francois said. “He‟s working on a big case.” Benny looked devastated. “You know, I swear he‟s avoiding me. The only time I see that man is when he comes over for sex at two in the morning.” 42

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“Oh,” Ferric groaned. “Too. Much. Info.” He picked up his cake plate and left the kitchen. “Huh,” Benny said. “Guess you don‟t need me.” He turned on his heel and left. “He‟s right,” my lover said, drawing me to him and giving me a wonderful kiss. “We might need him soon. But let‟s start chasing down your charming wife.” “Please don‟t call her that,” I bleated. Francois and I had a long talk after Sage and Benny left. Mom sidled up to us one point. “Mingo,” she said. “I think I should call Carrie‟s parents. I know how difficult it is for you to talk to them.” She was right. Tears pricked the back of my eyes. I still blamed myself for Carrie‟s disappearance. We‟d originally talked about going to Maui together but when I came home, my mom was in a bad state. She‟d just found out my father had a whole other family on the mainland. The bastard had up and left her when I was young. I hated him, but she‟d never given up on him. She‟d just received word that he‟d died and I chose to be with her. I still feel I made the right decision but the words what if still whisper in the back of my mind. I hadn‟t thought about Carrie in a long, long time. Not since I‟d fallen in love with Francois. His 43

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love had chased away all my pain. I still had the box of stuff from my investigation into Carrie‟s life and…possible death. I even had a photocopy of her original casebook from the Maui PD. “Mom, that would be great,” I said. “I‟ll choose my words carefully. If there is any hint she‟s alive and they‟ve heard from her I know they‟ll tell me.” It didn‟t seem likely to me that this was the case. If they‟d had any inclination they would have called. But I knew this bothered her, too. Besides, Mom needed to feel useful and this was a good excuse for her to call the Oakeys. She picked up her cell phone and drifted away as my mind raced. Money. That was my thing. I could chase up all the old dead-end leads, dig out all those old, ghostly threads to Carrie‟s time on earth and figure out where all the smoke, mirrors and the dollar bills were. It was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to marry Francois, but for some reason, Carrie Oakey had a vendetta against me. I could be facing potential criminal charges myself as an alleged board member of her company if she was convicted. One thing in my favor was that I hadn‟t been to the mainland in some time. The only trip we‟d made was our best friends‟ wedding in Connecticut. I realized with dismay that Carrie could fake 44

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more pictures of me and do a hell of a lot of damage to my reputation before I could prove my innocence. “Mingo, we‟re in this together.” Francois‟ soft voice cut into my thoughts. “We need to start by talking to her. We‟ll tell her the jig is up. We‟ll find out what the hell it is that she wants and we get her to leave you alone.” I nodded, feeling miserable. I put a quick call through to Jerry Taffin. He‟d been a brilliant teacher and a formidable boss. He said two things I could have predicted immediately when I called. The first one was, “Mingo! Whadya know?” The second thing he said when I asked how he was made me roll my eyes. “Sometimes, I‟m good.” Dear God. I‟d forgotten his one-time aspirations to be a standup comic. Were all of us accountants so dull? I apologized for calling late. California was three hours ahead of us, but he was very cheerful about the disruption. “I just got back from a very unusual case in Dubai. I think you‟d find this one interesting.” Sure, I wanted to hear about it, but not right now. He interrupted himself to say, “I‟m sitting at Monty‟s waiting for my wife to meet me for dinner.” Man, that old clip joint hadn‟t been demolished 45

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yet? I could picture him nursing a Bombay and tonic. It was his preferred drink. Quickly, I told him what had happened and tried not to chafe when he laughed at the idea that I could be married to a woman. “Sorry, Mingo,” he said. “I needed that laugh.” Well! When I got to the part about the mystery woman being Carrie Oakey, he couldn‟t place the name at first. “She was going to intern with me,” he said. “No, she wasn‟t.” That stopped me in mind-sentence. “She wasn‟t?” I could hear ice cubes tinkling. I got a flash that he‟d gestured to the bartender to bring him another drink. “Mingo, I remember her now. I found a few…discrepancies in her references. I felt there was an…accuracy issue. I never said anything to you, especially when she disappeared and you took it so hard. But it‟s interesting that she may have turned up again. Where‟s she been all this time?” Since Jerry had no information for me, I begged off telling him more, promising to call him to hear all about Dubai. Jerry in full flight on one of his cases was fascinating. Jerry cracking jokes 46

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was…depressing. As Francois and I got into our SUV, I put a call through to my best female friend, Leilani Squires, who is also the best damned fraud examiner I know. I told her what was going on. She‟d known Carrie peripherally and like everyone else, felt horrible when the girl disappeared. “Counterfeit wine?” Leilani asked. “I love it. Lemme make some calls. What‟s the name of her vineyard?” “Oak Hill.” “Okies. Leave it with me. How‟s my nephew?” I smiled. “Gone to the movies with Mom.” “Good deal. I‟ll see you at command central around six, okay?” “Okay.” I felt better already now that two of the sharpest minds I knew in criminal investigation were on my team. Mom and Ferric had taken themselves off to a late afternoon session back in Honolulu. As they left, they chatted animatedly about popcorn and sodas. Francois and I chatted soberly about the possible length of my prison sentence. I was glad they were having fun. I didn‟t want either of them to worry. Francois and I were doing plenty of that for all four of us. Francois drove along King Kamehameha Highway which lines the entire north coastline toward Turtle Bay. My sweetheart held my hand, 47

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his thumb stroking my fingertips. It felt so soothing and nurturing. I felt my nerves unclenching a little. I loved our raw, untamed, north side of the island. Chickens roamed the shoulder of the road, occasionally falling afoul of wild cats and stray cows that accidentally stomped them. The waves to our left were choppy and huge. Only seriously confident surfers tackled those waves. In fact, I could see lots of red flags impaled in the sand all along the curve from Haleiwa to Sunset Beach. We pulled up outside Hana‟s house, one of the many that rents out single rooms to surfer dudes. Francois and I walked down the path to her door. I had a flashback to a time when I‟d had a hot fling with a tourist…who turned out to be a very bad guy. And then I got involved with Francois. In fact, Francois had come to my condo at the time thanks to Leilani and wired my place electronically so he could spy on the guy. Falling in love with each other had been a huge bonus. We rapped on Hana‟s door. Her husband opened it. Moke was a big island guy, decent as all hell when he‟s sober and he seemed to be right now. He lolled in the doorway in his T-shirt that read, I Hear Voices and they Don’t Like You. He shot the breeze with us a moment. “You‟re looking for who?” he asked. “Ashley McCloud or maybe she‟s going by 48

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Carrie Oakey.” “Nobody by that name staying here,” Moke said. “We haven‟t had anyone but a surfer dude who wore diapers under his board shorts. Turned out he was a junkie.” We thanked him, stunned by this piece of news. Why had Carrie lied to Francois? Francois passed him his cell phone. He‟d surreptitiously snapped Carrie‟s picture in our kitchen. “Recognize her?” Moke shook his head. “Nope. Who is she?” “Old friend,” Francois responded. We thanked him again and left. “So the bitch drops a bomb in our laps then vanishes. Again.” Francois looked at me as we returned to our SUV. “Where to now?” I had no idea but panic had started to set in. “Maybe I should retain Benny‟s services,” I said. “Why? You‟ve done nothing wrong. Let‟s just keep going. I can‟t figure out her angle yet and I‟ve got a horrible feeling the cell phone she had with her was a phony. I haven‟t picked up a single call yet.” “Doesn‟t the bug also act like a beacon? Can‟t we tune into her and track her down with it?” “Not this one. I was operating on short notice and pure emotion. This bitch is fucking with my relationship, Mingo.” 49

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“Mine, too.” I sneaked my hand into his. He lifted my fingers to his mouth and kissed them one by one. “What I popped onto the battery pack was a short-wave listening device. I can get a read on her for up to three miles. She said she was staying with Hana. That‟s two miles from us.” “And we still have no idea why she said she was staying with Hana if she isn‟t.” We sat in silence for a moment. As we waited for some divine inspiration, Hana‟s garage door opened and she swung out of her driveway…with my dear, darling wife sitting right beside her. Shit! Moke had lied to us. But why? “Fuck!” we said in unison. Francois acted fast. We followed them at a good couple of car lengths, but we didn‟t want them to catch sight of us on their tails. I put a call through to Mele, Leilani‟s wife. Since the previous governor had been ousted and Mele had worked for her, she was now unemployed and looking for work. She had been in a bit of a funk until Francois and I hired her to help us on a couple of cases. She turned out to be a damned good investigator. “Years of stalking my ex-girlfriends,” she‟d quipped. She answered on the second ring and jumped at the chance to do some stakeout work. Francois and I followed the two women into the 50

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town of Laie. They stopped for gas at the Tesoro station. We hung back, and the women didn‟t notice us. They were too busy hugging and kissing each other. For realz. Hana pumped gas, Carrie hugging her. “Poor Moe,” Francois said. “I think. Maybe he digs crazy shit.” “Yeah. And he lied to us, remember?” Mele caught up with us just as we were pulling out of the station. She gave a discrete little finger wave and took our place following the women. “I wanna stick to them a moment,” Francois said. We followed them to the Hukilau Diner, a local joint. The women parked in the lot out front and went inside. “Shit. I‟d love to be a fly on the wall.” Francois thumped the steering wheel. He picked up his cell phone and called Mele who parked, then strolled over to us. She followed Francois to the trunk of the SUV where he gave her a bugging device and a camera. “Call us,” he said. She gave him a thumbs up and walked into the diner. “Where to?” I asked my man, but I guessed before he even told me that we were heading back to Moke‟s. We needed to know why he lied. And we needed to know fast. Back at Hana and Moke‟s house, there was no 51

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answer. Weird. His car was in the driveway. We hadn‟t noticed him in the car. Francois peered into one of the windows. “Babe. We gotta call the cops.” “Why?” “He‟s lying on the floor. Covered in blood.” “What?” I joined him at the window. “We gotta call, I guess.” “Jesus, Mingo, what the hell is going on?” I shook my head. We called the cops, then we called Benny and Sage and waited for the cavalry to arrive. Neither of us knew Steve Lesko, the uniformed patrol officer who arrived first on the scene. It was his first day on this side of the island. He told us he‟d just moved here from the Big Island. He seemed scared to go into the house. “Have you been inside?” he asked. “No. We just came to visit our good friend Moke and when he didn‟t answer, I looked in the window and saw him,” Francois responded. “We called you right away.” The young cop nodded. He seemed to be swallowing hard. His Adam‟s apple kept bobbing up and down in his throat. “My mom warned me that things‟d be different here.” Francois‟ cell phone rang. Officer Lesko 52

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screamed like a girl and jumped. “You okay?” I asked as Francois took the call. His whole face changed. “Where are they going now?” I heard him ask, his expression grim. Officer Lesko called for backup. “There might be a homicidal maniac in there,” he told us. “Can‟t be too careful.” “Don‟t you have a gun?” I asked. “What if he‟s alive and needs immediate medical attention?” “Shit,” Officer Lesko said. He tried the door handle. It turned. He pushed the door open. He blinked. Geez, his legs were shaking! He walked in then turned. “What‟s his name again?” “Moke.” Officer Lesko nodded, his Adam‟s apple doing the time warp dance. He inched forward, calling out Moke‟s name, loudly, as if the man were deaf and not potentially mortally wounded. He knelt beside the prone body. “He‟s alive,” Officer Lesko shouted. “He‟s been stabbed with a metal skewer.” Eeeew! Francois called 911 and requested an ambulance. He was able to give the emergency operator more information than Lesko would have. He stumbled out of the house and vomited into some bushes. 53

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“I‟d like to make a correction on the attack weapon,” Francois said in a calm tone into his cell phone. “Moke has been stabbed with a cork screw. I can see it sticking out of him.” A cork screw! Carrie was a vintner. Francois kicked off his shoes and advanced into the house, cradling the phone against his ear. He took instructions from the operator as Officer Lesko and I stood at the door. “Mingo,” my lover yelled. I kicked off my shoes and moved inside. “Get some towels. Quick.” He‟d put the phone on the floor, the operator talking to him via loudspeaker. The house was a mess. I ran through it, finding the bathroom. All the towels were wet and on the floor. In the linen closet down the hall, I found clean towels and returned to the living room with them. The operator talked Francois through the process of removing the corkscrew. I noticed it had been plunged right into the word You on his T-shirt. Oh, boy, this was a personal attack for sure. Francois was well known on the island as a security expert and luckily, he always kept latex gloves in his pocket. He wore these as he extracted the corkscrew. As instructed, Francois applied pressure with the towels to the wound. “Newspaper, babe.” I shoved the paper scattered on the floor by the 54

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sofa toward him and he dropped the weapon onto it gently, leaving one hand on Moke‟s massive torso. We‟d learned that newspaper was the best way to keep a weapon‟s prints as pristine as possible. Fabric smeared and absorbed blood and prints. It seemed like hours but was only minutes when the ambulance arrived. “You saved his life,” Officer Lesko said, looking awed. We traipsed outside where two detectives from the second district‟s Criminal Investigation Division took our statements. We‟d met them both before. Chong and Kanamura had been assigned to a missing person‟s case I‟d worked on a couple of years ago. Since then, Francois and I had worked in a special state governor‟s investigative program with Kanamura. Francois and I had quit the elite force when the then-governor, Linda Ingle, had vetoed the same-sex civil union bill. In spite of doing a job we loved with people we genuinely liked and respected, we couldn‟t work for anyone who felt that we didn‟t deserve the same rights as everybody else. Since then, our new governor has righted those wrongs and Francois and I are cracking our necks to get to work with him. It wasn‟t all bad, though. A lot of wonderful things had come from our association with the previous governor. Firstly, I‟d 55

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met Mele and set her up on a blind date with Leilani. They fell in love the moment they met. Secondly, Francois and I had developed a great network of contacts and discovered we loved working together. After a brief aloha session, Kanamura told us he‟d been sent back to the CID when Lingle left office. He seemed a little bitter about that and who could blame him? Governor Abercrombie had dissolved the special force, but Kanamura said there were rumors he wanted us all back. “I should have quit in solidarity with you guys, sorry about that.” He surprised us. “No, you had a job to do,” I insisted. He seemed pleased we‟d let him off the hook. He asked how we happened to be here. We admitted we‟d come here first and talked to Moke. We told the detectives everything. Except for the fact we‟d left Mele to follow the women. We said we‟d followed them to Laie and decided to return to the house to talk to Moke, which was when we‟d found him. They seemed agog. “Why did you want to see this woman? What‟s her name?” “I‟m not sure, but she came to our house today and claims she‟s my long lost wife.” Personally, I didn‟t think this notion was as 56

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hysterical as Kanamura did. He laughed so hard, tears flowed down his cheeks. Sage arrived just in time to take over the questions regarding Carrie Oakey. “This is part of a federal investigation,” he told the detectives, who didn‟t seem pleased. We told Sage everything as we left the CID‟s newly arrived scene techs to process the crime scene. We‟d trampled it somewhat but then, we had saved a life and we were pretty certain we knew who the culprits were. Outside on the highway, my lover dropped a big bombshell. “Mele called and told me that the two women went to the Hukilau to meet a man for dinner.” “Who?” I asked. “In a million years, you‟ll never guess, Mingo. It‟s your ex, Kaolin. They‟re all sitting there eating burgers and fries.” “Kaolin?” Sage blanched. “Why isn‟t he still in prison?” I asked Sage. “How could he qualify for early release?” Sage took in our surly expressions. He glanced away again, his cheeks turning red. He pulled out his cell phone and started making calls. He had several things in common with me, the first being that like me and Benny, he‟d fallen in love with Kaolin. I had tried to warn him but Kaolin has something guys like us crave until we 57

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finally get it. He‟s bad. Bad to the bone. And oh, so goddamned hot. Francois was staring at me. “Now it‟s making sense. That bastard thinks he‟s going to stop me from marrying you.” “Well, he can‟t,” I said. “He still loves you.” I saw the look of surprise on Sage‟s face. He‟d worked hard to help Kaolin get a lighter sentence after the man worked hard to get me killed. “I love you, Francois.” Francois didn‟t look any happier. Sage got off the phone. “He was released a week ago.” He looked shocked. “I can‟t believe he got out and didn‟t call me.” “That‟s your big concern?” Francois sputtered. “Unbelievable!” “He‟s on probation. He‟s violated it already,” Sage reported. “He‟s not even supposed to be on island. He‟s supposed to be in Washington, D.C.” That was news to me. I hadn‟t followed his trials and tribulations once he‟d been arrested. My life had been too good and too busy to think about Kaolin. “Can we have him picked up?” Francois asked. Either Sage was a mind reader or great minds think alike, but he made a call, turning his back to us. When he turned around again, he asked about 58

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Mele. “Is she still watching them?” Francois called her. “They‟ve just finished lunch.” He repeated everything Mele was saying. “The waitress just took them their check.” “Good. Tell her to stay on them. I‟m sending a unit around there now. If anything changes, she‟s to call me directly.” Francois repeated everything to her. Sage got another call and Francois took advantage of his distraction. “Call us first,” he whispered and ended the call. We followed Sage to the restaurant, where we saw Kaolin led away from the parking lot in handcuffs. He had blood on his face. Mele ran to us. “The women got away. I followed him. Somebody tipped him off. He got a call and suddenly jumped up. He said, „the police are on their way‟ and the three of them scattered to the winds. I got up and chased him. I tripped him and he went nose-first onto one of the tables. I performed a citizen‟s arrest.” She looked so proud of herself. “Good girl,” Francois said. She nodded. “Thanks. Do I get extra for criminal apprehension?” “Yes,” we said in unison. 59

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She rocked on her toes. “Da kine!” I noticed for the first time she was wearing her trademark, long flowing holoku dress and underneath it, running shoes. “That bad boy went down hard,” she said. “He got blood in my eye. I hate when that happens.” Sage came over to us. “Mele, you were a brave woman, stopping him like that.” “Thanks,” she said. “Did you listen to any of their conversation?” he asked. “Not really.” Her face took on a closed look. I realized straight away she had no intention of telling Sage anything. “He seemed agitated. He was very fussy about his burger. Sent it back twice.” “By the way,” Francois said, his tone calm, “Mele tells us he got tipped off. Somebody called him and said the police were on their way.” “That‟s impossible,” Sage snapped. “It‟s true,” Mele said. “He yelled it out. Everyone heard it. Ask the waitress. Those two women almost knocked her down trying to get away.” As if on cue, the waitress came out of the restaurant and approached Mele. “Excuse me, did you happen to see where those two women went?” 60

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“No,” Mele said. “Why?” “They didn‟t pay their bill and I wouldn‟t mind…ordinarily, only they were biggest pains in the ass. Ever. And that man…oh, he was impossible!” Sage began to pepper her with questions. I got to phone calls on the heels of one another. The first was from Leilani who said she had information and was heading to our house. The second was from Benny. I put him on hold whilst I told Mele to meet us back at the ranch. . Once inside the SUV, I talked to Benny. “Mingo!” he squeaked. “Help!” “What now?” I asked. “Are you back in the pokey?” “Don‟t be ridiculous. It only happened one time and you‟ll never let me live it down, will you?” “No. I never will.” “Thanks, Mingo.” “What‟s up?” I asked. Apart from my cock. Francois had his hand on it. He was being a very naughty man. He suddenly pulled over to the shoulder, allowing other vehicles to pass us. “Sage changed his Facebook status,” Benny said. “Are you shitting me?” “No. Can you believe it? It says, „It‟s complicated.‟ He changed it from „In a Relationship.‟ Why would he do that, Mingo? 61

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Why?” “Because you‟re a fucking freak, Benny.” “I know that, but it still doesn‟t explain why he changed his status. He likes freaky.” “Maybe not so much,” I said. “Why, what‟s he said to you?” I couldn‟t speak. Francois had switched off the engine. He turned in his seat, a look of deadly determination in his eyes. “Take your pants off, Mingo,” he instructed. Who was I to say no? “Don‟t you hang up on me!” Benny yelled. “I gotta,” I said, already unable to see straight with my lover ripping open my buttoned-down fly in his haste to get to me. “Oh…Mingo,” Benny said, “don‟t forget, my old man still expects to play golf with the kid on Friday.” I ended the call just as Francois pulled me up from my seat and dragged me into the backseat. He tossed me onto my tummy, his face moving right into my ass. I‟ve never met a man who loves to eat ass the way Francois does. His hands gripped my hips. He tossed me over like a bun on a barbecue grill, my hard cock slapping against his chin. He began to suck me. I made nonsensical noises as his mouth slid over my shaft, his tongue warm and wet as he came back up to the head. He sucked me good and deep, his hands holding my 62

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ass closer to him. He sucked my cock into his mouth all the way, my balls hitting his chin. He closed his lips around me tighter. When one hand slid under my ass cheek and began stroking at my hole, my legs opened up wider. I wanted his cock in me, but I knew Francois wanted me like this. He‟s a mad, oral sex fiend. He loves to fuck me…lives to fuck me, but he‟d told me in a rare moment of truth that although he‟d fucked a few men in his past, he‟d never enjoyed sucking one off. Until he met me. You‟d never know it. The man was the best cock sucker I‟d ever met. Two fingers slid into my ass as he sucked at me with abandon. He used his free hand to grab my balls and squeeze. Hard. I came in a blast of white-hot fire, my ass bouncing around against his fingers. He drove them in and out of me. He didn‟t let go and he didn‟t stop sucking me, even after I‟d stopped screaming his name because my voice got so hoarse. When at last he relinquished his hold on my balls, he took his mouth off me. “Who owns your ass?” he asked, kissing my ear. “Uh…you do.” “Hmmm…good. Just checking.” His mouth clamped over mine. He‟s such a bastard. He knows what he does to me. My cock 63

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would not go down but I knew he wanted it that way. As I got dressed again, my rigid shaft making my pants damned uncomfortable, I saw the huge smile on his face. “I‟ll take care of that,” he said. “Later.” Later. Hoo, boy!

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Chapter Four

I

was in an advanced state of desire as Francois sat around our kitchen table with Leilani and Mele. Mom had called. She and Ferric were going to grab some Chinese food at our favorite place, Fatty‟s in Waikiki, and bring it home to us. It was hard for me to focus, firstly because I love Fatty‟s food. Visions of egg rolls and passion fruit sauce danced before my eyes. There was also the inconvenient problem of wanting desperately to hit the sack with Francois. All of this weirdness had triggered all my insecurities. And Francois had activated all my carnal desires, dammit. But, focus I had to, because we had a lot of stuff to sort through. Leilani went first. “Carrie Oakey opened Oak Hill five years ago. She bought the property at auction for a pretty hefty price. She had some investment from a French vineyard that helped her introduce a new strain of red grapes in the Napa Valley. She‟s been 65

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quietly producing small batches of a very well received grand cru red burgundy. She used her money and her clout to import six cases of very rare, expensive wines into her winery.” She paused, sipping at her soda. “This is where it gets interesting. She outbid some serious collectors for two cases of 1969 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti La Tâche and a single case of 1958 DRC La Tâche.” Leilani looked excited now. “These were different vintages of the same red burgundy. She told people the grapevines in her vineyards were the offspring of the La Tâches. She organized a wine tasting of one bottle of each and auctioned off the rest. A wine collector by the name of Harvey Comstock bought a bottle of each for a reputed $500,000.” I let out a whistle. “That‟s pretty hefty buckaroos.” She nodded. “She had developed a great reputation for being generous about sharing her finds. And then she somehow got her hands on two more cases of the 1969 Domaine and that‟s when it all began to unravel.” “How?” Mele asked, voicing the question Francois and I had. “She auctioned these ones off too and Harvey Comstock bought a couple of bottles. He got them a little cheaper so he was happy. And then he took 66

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them home. Apparently, he kept the bottles on his desk and liked to show them off to people. One night he was sitting there doodling when he noticed a discrepancy in the labels.” Leilani slid two color copies toward me and Francois. The difference wasn‟t immediately noticeable, but it was there. Only somebody who spent a lot of time making love to that label with his eyes would have noticed it. We slid the pages across to Mele. “Huh,” she said. “I see it now. One of the La Tâches has the accent over the a in Tâches. The other doesn‟t. So he realized it was a fake?” Leilani nodded. “He sued her for every penny he spent on those wines. It‟s sent shockwaves through the industry because she‟d just taken on a bunch of new investors and was planning to take over a vineyard in Bordeaux.” “Wow,” Francois said. “If what we heard about her is true, then she was about to lose a second vineyard in her lifetime and she got desperate.” “The deal in Bordeaux went bad,” Leilani told us. “She‟s been scrambling ever since. I guess she‟s been throwing her money around like confetti and the lawsuit hasn‟t even gone to court yet.” “Why do you think she involved Mingo in this? And what does Kaolin have to do with it?” “I can answer that,” Mele said. “He was one of her investors. Kaolin once again making poor 67

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decisions.” “So he knew Carrie Oakey survived her…disappearance and he‟s been in touch with her? How weird.” It really bugged me that Kaolin was involved in this. “I heard them over lunch talking about the fact it was obvious you didn‟t buy the fake marriage routine. Kaolin was, quote, somewhat dismayed, unquote, that you ran off and Francois asked her to leave. She never thought it would work. Their plan was to blackmail you.” “Blackmail me? Why?” She shrugged. “I didn‟t get that far. They started talking about Moke. I guess he‟d had a fight with Hana when you guys showed up at the door. She said he was pissed that Carrie was bringing people to his door. He‟s an investor, too. Hana said Carrie had promised they could start an Oak Hill franchise on the Big Island.” I sat back, absorbing all this. “By putting your name on her website as being on the board of trustees, maybe she thought she could shame you into helping her in her legal battle,” Francois said. That made sense to me. I wondered why she‟d gone to such lengths. The Carrie I knew had been a decent enough friend that I would have helped her had she just asked. Now, I despised her, firstly for what she did seven years ago in faking her own disappearance, and 68

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for what she was doing now, trying to hamstring my happiness. “She‟s a bitch, Mingo. You know she‟s going to call you, don‟t you?” Francois asked. “Oh, she wouldn‟t dare.” “You‟ll see.” He looked smug. Damn it, my husband was a good judge of human character. “Kid‟s home,” Francois said. I hadn‟t heard a sound. I realized he‟d gotten an electronic message. All our vehicles and cell phones, even Mom and Ferric‟s have bugs installed in them. We heard the car swing into the driveway. I felt a lot more relaxed once our son was safely home. I got up and gave him a hug. He clung to me. “Have we sorted out the mess, yet, Dad?” “Soon,” Leilani promised. “There‟s going to be a wedding in this family on New Year‟s Day. No matter what. I haven‟t stuck to Jenny Craig to fit into my bridesmaid‟s dress for nothing, you know.” **** I was the first one in our house to wake up the following morning. We had talked late into the night, Francois and I falling asleep in each other‟s arms. I extracted myself from his trusty grip, took a shower and went to the kitchen to feed our feline colony. I dragged the box with all of Carrie‟s files 69

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over to the kitchen table. It hurt something fierce to see all the old notes, her bank records, to read the reports, the sightings, the lost leads…where did I begin? The trail was seven years old and colder than a Michigan morning in mid-winter. I felt a profound sadness at her loss. For months I‟d wondered if she‟d been taken hostage or if she was lying at the bottom of a ravine somewhere. The idea that she‟d faked it was very upsetting. My cat Mango rubbed her head under my chin as she stood on the table. I felt comforted by the attention and stuffed everything back into the box. Now was the time for the living, not the dead. I brewed coffee as Francois stumbled into the kitchen. “Do I smell coffee?” “Yes, darling.” “Do I smell waffles, too?” he asked, a hopeful expression on his face. “You could, very soon.” He gave me a sleepy smile. “Cool beans. If I could smell them with hot maple syrup and sliced bananas I‟d be one happy guy.” “Aren‟t you happy now?” I deadpanned. “I‟d be happier.” “Consider it done.” He came and kissed me. “I‟m gonna jump in the shower.” He dropped another kiss on my shoulder and raced off again. 70

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“Do I smell coffee?” Mom asked, poking her head around the door. By the time Ferric trooped in, I had three different orders for breakfast. I didn‟t mind. It sure beat sleeping in a tent. I shuddered at that prospect. The house phone rang. “Want me to get it?” Ferric asked. The familiar tune of his Bookworm game on his iPad had me working subconsciously in time to it. “Sure, sweetie, thanks.” I squeezed oranges for my mom‟s juice and tried not to laugh when I heard Ferric‟s conversation. “Oh, hi Benny. Yeah, it‟s me. What do you mean, help? Are you in the pokey again?” A pause. “Geez, Benny, I was only asking.” He handed the receiver over to me and went back to his pressing game of Bookworm. “Mingo,” Benny shrieked. I waited. “Mingo, are you there?” “I‟m here. Where‟s the fire?” “Mingo, the fire‟s gonna be in your ass if you don‟t get down to the police station in Wahiawa immediately and turn yourself in.” “Why would I want to do that?” “Because Moke woke up from surgery and says you stabbed him with the corkscrew.” “That‟s so ridiculous and so untrue.” I began to panic again. I couldn‟t go to jail. I had to make 71

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breakfast for my family. Benny sounded agitated. “It‟s all over the news! I heard it on the radio. They have an APB out on you. I immediately intervened.” “Oh…thanks…” I was in shock. An APB on…me? “I have no idea who‟s been blabbing but it‟s all over the place, that Carrie Oakey is back…that Kaolin is in the slammer and that you‟ve gone homicidal. It‟s not a good day for us islanders, Mingo.” “It‟s unbelievable,” I said, the best I could come up with at short notice. “I‟ll meet you down there and help you post bail.” Benny sounded serious. “You have one hour, Mingo, or else the cops are coming after you.” My head hit the kitchen counter with a thunk. Living in a tent suddenly didn‟t seem so bad. What the hell was I going to do? “Dad?” Ferric got up from the table and came to me. “What‟s wrong, Dad?” “It‟s going to be okay,” I said, the five most unconvincing words in the English language, next to it’s only a cold sore. “Dad.” Ferric looked stricken. “It must be really bad, then.” I didn‟t respond. I wanted to make breakfast, but within seconds my son had screamed for 72

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Francois and my mom came running, too. “What‟s going on?” Francois looked dressed for action. Man, he was hot in his long black running pants. I didn‟t want to talk in front our kid but I had no choice. Ferric wouldn‟t leave us alone. “We need to call the Governor,” Francois said. “We need to pull rank.” “I can‟t go to the pokey, Francois. Benny will never let me live it down.” As Francois made a few calls, I served up breakfast. It tells you something about my nearest and dearest that we all kept it together long enough to enjoy a good meal. Once the dishes were practically licked clean, then the hysteria began. “We have to go see Sage,” my lover said. He looked at Mom. “Can you look after our boy?” “My boy, too,” she said. “Of course I will look after him.” She looked wounded that I would think otherwise. She and Ferric hugged us goodbye and we took off. As we hurtled along the highway, I kept expecting a cavalcade of cop cars coming to look for me. Francois held my hand. “Please stop looking so frightened. We‟re gonna sort this thing out.” We headed to the police station on North Cane Road. We passed all the old, abandoned pineapple plantations. A sense of nostalgia overtook me. My 73

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Hawaii was disappearing. My whole world was changing. And now I was being blamed for an attack I hadn‟t committed. We were a block away from the station when my cell phone rang. It was Carrie Oakey. Almost immediately, Francois‟ cell phone started beeping. Her call had activated the tracer he‟d put on her phone. “I need you to come and meet me, Mingo.” “Why?” “Oh, come on. You know who I am, don‟t you?” Taking a deep breath, I said, “I know you claim to be Carrie Oakey. And it‟s a sick and disgusting thing you‟re doing. I know you‟re not her. I have no idea why you claim you were attacked and had reconstructive surgery, but I bet if I check the hospital records for you in Seattle, Washington, they would have no record of your being there.” “Mingo—” “No. You listen to me. There‟s things about Carrie Oakey that I know and you don‟t.” “Like what?” “Forget it. I just know you are not her.” Francois pulled over to the shoulder of Cane Road. Carrie Oakey hung up on me. Francois looked at me. “So she isn‟t Carrie? Are you sure?” 74

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“I‟m sure.” “You don‟t think we should meet her and hear her side of things?” I shook my head. “I have no desire to talk to her. Francois…” “She‟s close,” he said. “I have a weird feeling she had to call me to activate the tracer. Now I‟ve got a handle on her maybe we can keep tabs on her. But what would she be doing out here?” “I have no idea.” I fought hard to keep my emotions in check. “My mom and I are among the few people who know why that hike was important to Carrie seven years ago. It ate at me for a long time. This woman…whoever the hell she is, has kicked up all these emotions again. I‟d forgotten how much losing Carrie hurt me.” He touched my face. “Mingo. I hate to see you so wounded.” “She‟d lost her leg, Francois. Carrie lost the lower part of her leg to the kneecap because of diabetes. She was proud of her new prosthesis but she kept it a secret because she was afraid of being unemployable. She never wore dresses when she got the leg because it was noticeable but she never walked like she had a fake leg. That‟s what‟s been eating at me. This woman we saw yesterday did not have a prosthesis and she was wearing a dress.” “Good God.” Francois looked at me. “You‟re a 75

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wonderful man, Mingo and I‟m sorry you lost your friend.” “I‟m sorry, too.” I dropped my head, fighting back tears. “I‟ve learned to live without her, but I would die without you.” He gave me a wonderful smile. “You won‟t have to. I won‟t let anyone hurt you. I promise. Let‟s go meet the cavalry.” I was surprised to find Kaolin‟s mother, Sage, Benny, Leilani and Mele, and even a few local friends, waiting at the police station. Benny, the only Chinese man I know who‟s an Orthodox Jew, had even brought his parents. They‟re very respected people in the islands and I could see the desk sergeant was a little intimidated by the number of people who‟d arrived to defend my honor. “I need to ask you a few questions,” Detective Kanamura said. He led me and Francois away over everybody‟s objections. I glimpsed a poster on the wall warning teens on the dangers of methamphetamine addiction. No Ice in Paradise! I sent a mental message to my dear, dead father to please stop my son from getting any ideas of experimenting. In two small interview rooms, Francois and I talked separately with Kanamura. Once again, I told him my story. He switched places with Chong and I went through it again. It was clear 76

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neither of us had deviated from the story we‟d told the previous day. I wanted to get my hands on Moke and slap him stupid for lying about us. Back in the station‟s main room, everyone burst into applause. Sasha Li, my new best friend and frequent partner for bikini workouts showed up with half the class. She hugged me. I was so happy I wasn‟t in leg irons, I hugged her back. The girls were all wearing their bikinis and high heels—the outfits they wore to class. Every man in the joint started acting like loons, ogling the women like they‟d never seen a bikini before in their lives. Alika Clayton, the shameless fourteen-year old hussy who has her eye on my son, also showed up with her parents…and Ferric and my mom. “We had to come, Mingo. Nobody‟s arresting my son,” Mom said, brandishing a rolling pin. The biggest surprise was Carrie Oakey‟s parents. They were outraged at the deception perpetrated by the woman claiming to be their daughter. “There‟s no way my dad stabbed anyone with a corkscrew,” Ferric announced loudly. “He can‟t even open a bottle of wine with one of those things. So I know it wouldn‟t be his weapon of choice if he was going to stab somebody!” Thanks, Ferric. I laughed like everyone else, but made a mental note to master opening a wine 77

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bottle and to improve my repertoire of jokes. I was free to go, but didn‟t feel particularly free. We still needed answers and those were in shockingly short supply. Francois and I thanked everyone for their support. Sage said I‟d been granted a reprieve because the governor had intervened. “The governor!” Ferric looked impressed. Benny looked disappointed when he couldn‟t post bail for me. “I so looked forward to making pokey jokes about you,” he said. “You can still make them. I‟ll let you.” “It‟s not the same.” He sniffed, looking longingly at Sage who never even glanced at him. “I need to talk to you, Mingo. Outside.” Sage looked embarrassed. He shuffled outside with me and Francois. “I‟m appalled to have to tell you this but I‟m the one who inadvertently tipped Kaolin off that the cops were on their way to restaurant.” “You?” I asked. “How?” Francois wanted to know. “I pocket dialed him.” He looked so shamefaced neither of us spoke for a moment. “If you pocket dialed him, then you must have spoken to him. And, you must have known he was here,” I said. I started to feel angry. So many secrets and lies. Who could we trust anymore? Francois slipped his arm around me. “You know what that man did to my family. 78

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You knew he was on island and didn‟t think we needed to know?” “He swore he would leave you alone.” “Oh, God, and you believed him?” I yelled. “He didn‟t come here for you. He said he wanted a second chance with me and that he‟d hit on a really big deal.” “Oh, that sounds like Kaolin. Always looking for easy money.” I shook my head. “He‟ll never learn, but I hope you do.” “I still love him.” Sage blurted this just as Benny came out of the station with my family in tow. The look on his face broke my heart. At last the truth was out. Benny had heard it from the horse‟s mouth. Sage turned to look at Benny, who walked off, crossing the road, almost colliding with a speeding vehicle. “Benny,” I said, running after him. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back to the curb. He looked numb. “Why am I cursed, Mingo?” “You‟re not cursed.” Benny rode in our SUV with me, Ferric and Mom. Sage drove his car back to our house, Leilani and Mele following in their car. Sage had insisted on driving Benny who sat, looking crumpled, in the back with Mom giving him a pep talk about the need to grow a pair. 79

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“I have a pair,” he squawked. “No, Sage has your pair,” she said. “Get them back, Benny. Don‟t let him come over at two in the morning and get his leg over. Make him date you.” “Oh, Grandma!” Ferric clapped his hands over his ears. Outside our house, Sage burst out of Benny‟s car and came over to the SUV. “I‟m trying to get over Kaolin,” he said to Benny who couldn‟t even look at him. “Creepozoid,” Ferric said under his breath when Sage left our house and caught a ride back to the station with a uniformed patrol officer. “I‟m hungry,” Mom said. We all agreed we wanted to eat. Actually, I‟d say in our family it‟s a day-long obsession. “We need to go to North Shore Country Okazo and Bento,” Ferric said. We all agreed and drove off down King Kamehameha Highway in two vehicles. We piled into the hole-in-the-corner joint, running into a couple of dispirited tourists. Ever since Rachael Ray gave the Okazo some love on her show 40 Dollars a Day, cheap-assed tourists have flocked to our private haven. They always seem surprised that it isn‟t the Taj Mahal. But it is cheap. They want cheap. But they also want fancy. They drifted out making ominous remarks about “Yelp” the online restaurant guide. 80

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We didn‟t care. More for us. We picked out our meals, Francois and Ferric overjoyed that there was plenty of sliced steak. We grabbed some cans of Hawaiian Sun juices and headed across the road to the beach. We ate with our boxes on our laps, squelching our toes in the sand. I was touched when Ferric gave me his scoop of macaroni salad. He‟s such a soulful kid. I also thought it was so sweet that he coaxed Benny into changing his Facebook profile to „single.‟ Benny did it, to a round of applause from the rest of us. “God,” he said, waving his cell phone around. “I can‟t believe I‟m actually okay with it.” “That‟s because you know you can change it back anytime you like,” Ferric said. Such wisdom from a fourteen-year-old. “Trust me, I‟ll be checking and if you change it back to „In a Relationship‟ I‟m not playing golf with your father on Friday.” “You drive a hard bargain, kid. Now show me this new app of yours. How does it work?” We tossed our empty food containers, took off our shoes and walked along the beach. Benny and Ferric laughed as they played with the app. Benny stopped laughing when he learned our son had sold two thousand more apps in the last twentyfour hours. “You need an investor, kid,” he said, draping 81

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his arm around Ferric‟s shoulders. “You should let me be your agent, too.” I would have intervened except that Francois nudged me. “Carrie Oakey‟s at our house,” he said. “She just tried to break in.” We drove home, Benny promising to bring the others back when we gave him the word. We zoomed off in our SUV. Francois‟ own company patrols our house out of an adjacent property that he owns. People have no idea since he doesn‟t advertise, but Carrie Oakey was currently in the custody of one of Francois‟s men. “What do you want me to do with her?” he asked Francois who said he wanted to speak to her personally. We raced to the location. As usual, I was thoroughly impressed by Francois‟s setup. Amaury Security was a hot new name in security systems but Francois didn‟t believe in advertising home protection. He had offices set up in private homes in every police division on the island. There are eight divisions and each has at least two sectors. Francois has set up the secure houses accordingly. Our clients are guaranteed roundthe-clock protection, plus immediate intervention in case of an emergency. The police are fully aware of us, of course, and now, increasingly, burglars are petrified of us. 82

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They have no idea if their target home has security and some have learned the hard way to resist temptation. For the police it‟s a win-win situation. We are a strong presence and an extra layer of community security. Carrie Oakey, or whoever she was, sat at a table in one of the offices. She‟d gone down with a fight, even throwing a few punches at two of our men. Francois and I entered the room and her expression went from relief to fear in seconds. “What‟s going on?” I asked her. “Why are you doing all of this?” She shrugged. “I‟m desperate. I didn‟t think you‟d help me.” “Help you? You stabbed a man who was shielding you—” She let out a harsh laugh. “I didn‟t stab Moke. Hana did. She‟s got a quick temper and didn‟t like him bitching about you two showing up.” She bit her lip then swallowed. She licked her lips, agitation etched in her features. “Would you like some water?” Francois asked her. “Yes, please.” He left the room but I knew the entire conversation was being recorded. “Start at the beginning,” I said. “Not much to tell. I said I was going for a hike and instead, I went all around the world. After 83

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two years, I came back…I was not very happy being Carrie Oakey, accountant. I wanted something more for myself.” “You wanted to own a vineyard.” She nodded. “You always encouraged me. I remember that. I got married in France to an older man. He was so silly, really. I said I needed to come home to see my parents. I think he really believed me.” “So you didn‟t see your parents?” “Of course not. I found out they had adopted me. I found out Moke was my real dad. He was pleased to find out about me, especially when I came up with the wine scheme.” “So the wine is fake?” “It‟s not fake. It‟s real.” Anger flared in her eyes. I let that one slide. “Over the last few years, he and Hana have been so good to me. We‟ve made a lot of money together…and spent all of it, just about. And then I got in trouble. I met Kaolin way back when and he and I…well…we had a bit of a thing.” She grinned and it wasn‟t a pleasant smile. “Yeah, I know you‟re surprised he‟s a switch-hitter.” “On the contrary, he‟s always been undecided. He left me for a woman.” That shocked her, I could tell. “He said I was his first.” 84

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“Wrong. His wife would probably disagree with you there.” She looked furious. Her emotions were very close to the surface. The Carrie I knew had been much more…fragile. “Why didn‟t you come to Haiku with me?” she asked suddenly. “I needed you. You really hurt my feelings when you canceled on me.” I stared at her. Could she really be Carrie? Shaking my head, I said, “I didn‟t cancel on you, I canceled on Carrie.” “Because you didn‟t care about her.” “That‟s not true. I loved her. She was my friend. I missed her for a long time…and you know what, you‟re just a real bitch pretending to be her.” “Oh, but it‟s me,” she said. “And I‟ll prove it in a minute. Just answer my question. Why?” “Because my mother needed me. I came home and found out my father, who‟d run out on us and married another woman on the mainland, had a family and then died. Mom took it hard. She loved that man.” The woman sitting opposite me looked devastated. “You didn‟t tell me.” “You didn‟t ask. You hung up on me.” When her face crumpled in grief, I knew it was her. For me, Carrie Oakey, the Carrie I knew and loved, was really dead. She died the day she chose to break all our hearts. I didn‟t know this woman 85

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with a different face and such a callow heart. “All of this…what you did to me was over a misunderstanding?” I was incredulous. “It wasn‟t just me. It was Kaolin, too. We all need money. I was supposed to blackmail you but I was scared. I had an idea you‟d find out the marriage license was fake, but when Sage told Kaolin he‟d dissected the photos, we both freaked out.” Sage had blabbed? Wait‟ll I got my hands on the little runt. When she stood, lifted the hem of her dress and removed the most realistic prosthesis I‟d ever seen, I knew she wasn‟t lying. She was Carrie Oakey.

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Chapter Five

C

arrie confessed that she got plastic surgery as soon as she returned to the US because she‟d „borrowed‟—her words, not mine—a substantial amount of money from her husband in France. She dropped out of sight with her new face and an altered name. “But why did you disappear in the first place?” I asked her. “I wanted to punish my parents. I wanted to disappear.” In the seven years since her vanishing, her abandoned husband in France had given up hope of finding her and declared her legally dead. She had a trail of broken hearts behind her, including the adoptive parents who still love her. Francois and I took her to the police station where she admitted everything, including my innocence. She said she felt bad that she allowed Kaolin to talk her into the phony wedding scenario. 87

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“I wanted your help. I felt that of everyone I knew, I could trust you. Kaolin‟s mom told him you were getting married and he fell apart. He couldn‟t handle the idea of losing you. He really loves you.” “Love like that I can live without,” I retorted as Benny raced into the police station to handle her booking procedure, news crews accompanying him. “I‟m retaining your services,” he told me. But I really didn‟t want to take the case. Besides, it seemed to me to be a conflict of interest. “And don‟t forget to bring the kid to golf tomorrow!” Benny shouted after me. I thought it was interesting that it was the Oakeys, the people who had loved, raised and nurtured Carrie, who came to post bail for her, not the birth father she thought was so great. One day, I decided, I‟d tell Carrie exactly what she did to those people in faking her disappearance. For now, I had my family to go home to and a wedding to finally get excited about. When we walked in the door, Ferric approached with two Xbox 360s. “Dad, did you really buy us one each?” he asked, his eyes shining. “Of course,” I said. “I can‟t have my two best guys fighting over it.” 88

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“Cool!” He dropped to the floor, tearing open his package. Francois covered my face with kisses, Ferric pretending to gag. We went to our room, locked the door and my lover threw me onto the bed. “I do believe it‟s time for one groom to fuck the other groom,” he said. “Did you call your sister and tell her the wedding‟s back on?” He frowned. “Not yet. It all depends.” “On what?” I grinned up at him. “How well you suck my cock.” I sat up, but he pushed me back onto the bed. “No rush, Mingo. Remember, this fuck has a lot riding on it.” I nodded. “Are you nervous?” I grinned. “No.” “Confident, aren‟t you?” “Yep. I‟ve never had complaints from you before.” He laughed. “Oh, Mingo, you are the sweetest, baddest accountant I know.” His mouth claimed mine and I wound my arms around his neck. He kissed me deeply then lifted his face from mine. He unbuttoned my shirt, removed it then tossed it onto the floor. He took off my shoes and socks and my tiny underpants, 89

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gazing down at me with desire as he got on the bed between my legs and started removing his own attire. He wore nothing under his black running pants. The knowledge that he‟d been running around commando all day long made me go crazy. I reached for him with greedy fingers. “Stop that,” he said, moving away from me. “That‟s my cock, Francois.” “I know it is. But you have to wait your turn.” “No…I can‟t wait.” He gave me a raised eyebrow, moved across the room and opened one of our locked toy boxes. He extracted a pair of handcuffs. “You‟re such a bad boy, Mingo, I have to restrain you.” I didn‟t resist. It had been my experience that unable to move, I got the most incredible blowjobs from my lover. He raised my arms over my head and cuffed my hands through one of the wooden slats of the headboard. My cock started leaking pre-come as soon as it made contact with his hard, muscular chest. He smiled down at my buoyant shaft, kissed the head, then wiped his forefinger across the glistening trail on his pec and licked it. He grunted and swiftly moved down to start sucking my cock. I rubbed my foot against his cock and balls as knelt between my thighs. “Do you want me to cuff your feet, too, 90

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Mingo?” “No.” I didn‟t like my feet being restrained. It was harder to get his tongue or his cock in my mouth when my feet weren‟t free to move. “I‟ll be good,” I whimpered. “Good. Because otherwise, you won‟t get this.” He held up the big black dildo that we‟d found in an online magazine. It was the closest thing we‟d seen to Francois‟ gigantic, gorgeous cock. It looked and felt real and I wanted it. “Oh, boy,” I breathed. Stars danced right behind my eyes. This was a rare treat. I was only allowed to enjoy Francois‟ body double on special occasions. He opened a foil of lube. “Open your legs, Mingo.” I didn‟t hesitate. His mouth flew over my now profusely leaking cock. He sucked me, bringing me wave after wave of bliss. I was in danger of coming and he knew it. He came off my cock. The deprivation was maddening. “The question is do I allow you to come now or make you wait?” He pretended to ponder his choices. I knew he‟d make me wait. My feet moved to his big shoulders as he began fingering my ass hole. He whispered encouraging things as he smeared me with lube. I moved my butt against his fingers that never quite entered me. It was 91

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beautiful agony having them so close and yet so far. He brushed his knuckles against me as his mouth fluttered over me again. My feet flew into the air and I came deep into his mouth. My heartbeat soared a mile a minute in my head. “Very, very bad, Mingo. You were supposed to wait,” he said when he came off my cock again. I apologized but the words came out in gibberish. “Oh, Mingo, I think you need to get fucked.” “Fuck me, fuck me,” I begged, but he went back to taunting me with fingers and tongue. When he finally let me have a finger inside me, then another, I humped them with all the passion I had. He took his hand away from me, licking my cock head. I was still hot-wired from just having come. He took his time licking up the sticky mess from my shaft and crotch. He was really enjoying himself. He lifted his face, the big dildo in his hand. “Kiss your toy, baby.” I kissed it. The head was spongy, yet deliciously accommodating, just like the real thing. He took it away from me, moving up to kiss me. I felt his hand and the fake cock at my hole. His fingers slipped away as he started working it into me. Francois rained kisses over my face and body. He licked my nipples and abs, his wonderful mouth 92

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moving to my balls. I cried out as his substitute cock started inching into me deeper and deeper. He knew how to fuck me with that thing. His mouth moved over my cock again. I went berserk, my ass sucking in that big, bad toy, my cock sliding into his mouth as he took his time working on me. There is nothing like a cock in your ass and a mouth on your cock at the same time. Francois let me have that big, black toy all the way. Something came over me as the toy‟s ball sack nestled against my ass. My orgasm came over me swiftly in a huge wipeout of a wave that had me laughing and crying at the same time. My lover uncuffed me when he knew my wild ride had subsided. I reached out for him, sobbing. He knew I needed him. He kissed me as I kissed his face and accepted his tongue in my mouth. “I think, Mingo, I don‟t even have to wait for my blowjob. I know I want my sister here.” Not able to speak yet, I nodded. He took the toy cock out of my ass and hovered between my thighs, anxious to be inside me. I took hold of him. “Please, let me suck you,” I begged. He smiled and let me pay some half decent homage to my favorite cock in the whole, wide world. Francois made a testy sound low in his throat as I tongued his head, laying long, flat, lengthy licks 93

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on the slit. He took it away from me and got between my legs again. He held my hips square as he drove into me. I felt him enter me hot and deep, the mad carnival of a wave rocking me to bliss again. He fucked me with a relentless pace that left us both shattered, yet I knew soon we‟d be hungry for more. He collapsed on top of me and I kissed his beautiful face. “I wish we were getting married right now,” he said, sounding relaxed and sleepy. “Me, too,” I said, loving that his cock was still imbedded in me. “Not long now.” I held him in my arms, listening to the soft sound of a sudden tropical rain. In the islands, this is always a good omen. I knew it meant good things. Nothing would go wrong before the big day. Or…could it?

Don‟t miss the next exciting installment of The Mingo McCloud series coming soon to www.eXtasybooks.com

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About the Author A.J. Llewellyn is the author of over one hundred published gay erotic romance novels. He lives in California, but dreams of living in Hawaii. Frequent trips to all the islands, bags of Kona coffee in his fridge and a healthy collection of Hawaiian records keep this writer refuelled. A.J. loves male/male erotica, has a passion for all animals (especially the dog, the cat and the turtle). A.J. believes that love is a song best sung out loud. You can contact [email protected]

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