The Lost Coast

the kid, and if the tone had been different, the question could have come across as mocking. Instead, it felt… flirtatious. He liked that the kid seemed not to be scared of him. “I’m not sure. You think I’d like it?”
    This time the kid blushed for sure. “I… I don’t know. I mean, it’s a good college. The people are cool. Who are you, anyway? What are you doing in Arcata?”
    “Just a stop on a long trip down the coast, dealing with customer complaints.”
    “What kind of customers?”
    Larison had a whole backstopped story he could have unspooled, but he didn’t feel like it. If this wasn’t going to end the way he hoped, he didn’t want to waste any more time. He took a sip of beer and said, “The kind who’ve bought expensive data mining software and are disappointed to find out the applications don’t do what they’re supposed to.”
    “Sounds like you spend a lot of time with unhappy people.”
    “Yeah, but I try not to let it get me down.” He took another sip of beer and said, “You alone here?”
    “Got some friends probably swinging by later.” For whatever reason, he didn’t sound happy about it.
    “Can I ask you a question?”
    The kid nodded. “Sure.”
    “If I wanted to pick up a little local Humboldt County produce—you know, just something to help me kick back and relax after a day of dealing with unhappy customers—do you know of anywhere I could do that?”
    The kid looked suddenly uneasy. “How do I know you’re not a cop?”
    For the second time that night, Larison had to resist the urge to laugh. “I look like a cop to you?”
    The kid nodded. “There’s something serious about you. And I can tell you’re in shape.”
    Larison was glad he’d noticed. “You must not know too many cops.”
    “What do you do? Weights? Seriously, you’re pretty… big.”
    Christ, was the kid flirting, or just incredibly innocent? Either way, it was a turn-on.
    “I do a little something different every day. But come on, can you help me out? I’m not a cop. Where do I go?”
    The kid was quiet for a moment, then he said, “What’s your name?”
    “Dave. And you?”
    “I’m Seth.”
    “Well, Seth?”
    “I guess… I guess I know a few guys on campus.”
    “Far from here?”
    The kid shook his head. “Maybe a mile.”
    Larison felt a little warmth spread out in his gut. “If I pick something up, will you share it with me?”
    The kid looked at Larison, something suddenly eager in his eyes. He said, “Sure. Okay.”
    No doubt, this was shaping up to be a very fine evening. There were risks, yeah, but sometimes the reward was worth it.
    Larison finished his beer in a swallow. “Do we walk?”
    “We could. But I’m parked out back. I know, lazy.”
    Larison imagined parking on some quiet street under the shadow of the redwoods, the vehicle’s interior illuminated only by the glow of a shared joint, the feeling close, comfortable. Most of all, private. People lost their inhibitions in the dark, when they knew they were in a place where no one else could see them, when they couldn’t see themselves. The kid would get high, he’d feel relaxed… he’d let himself do what he’d secretly always wanted to. Larison felt his heartbeat kick up a notch. He said, “Sure, let’s take your car.”
    They walked out, past the pool players, the bouncer, the hobos shifting around outside. They made a right, then another at the corner, moving along the sidewalk, not talking. Larison felt nervousness coming off the kid in waves and it excited him. He wondered if it was possible it was the kid’s first time. Christ, what a thought.
    The sidewalk was dark, parked cars to their left, the solid façade of the building to their right. A short funnel of sorts, the kind of terrain Larison always instinctively avoided because it was too easy for the opposition to close off both ends and squeeze, as well as being popular with ordinary muggers, too. But no one knew he was here, and he pitied the random mugger who might try to rob him.
    They came to an alley and made a right. Now they were behind the bar; further down, at the other end of the alley, was the back of the hotel. A few lights along the building façade to their right provided a feeble, yellowish glow, casting shadows under the Dumpsters and garbage cans lined up beneath. To their left was a single-story, freestanding shack, apparently a small office of some kind.
    Halfway down the alley, a guy in a hoodie and lumberjack