Page 72 of Baiting Kong
“Because there are times when I don’t want to be in control either,” Kong admitted. “I think you know that, but every time we’ve gotten close to touching on it, other shit popped off andinterrupted us. I’m tired of not getting what I want. That’s one of the reasons I came back here. Because a part of me has always known that you were the only one who could give it to me.”
Creature nodded at that, took a sip, and waited to see if there was more that Kong wanted to say.
“Scout was a pleasant and rather unexpected discovery,” Kong admitted. “But I’ve never been conflicted about who I am and where my desires lie; I’ve just never had the opportunity to explore them with anyone. You know how it is. They take one look at guys our size and automatically start making assumptions.”
“Yeah, I get that part,” Creature said. “What I don’t get is why you and I couldn’t just have this conversation years ago, instead of you fucking around trying to make me earn something you clearly wanted to give?”
Kong hung his head at that, because there had been moments he’d wasted, challenging Creature on the arm-wrestling table and anywhere else there was a chance to display physical prowess. For Kong, it had always been about preserving his image in the eyes of the club. His gaze was drawn back to where Sky still knelt beside Scuzzy’s chair. That dude was six foot three and built like a middle linebacker, and yet there he sat, without a care in the world, a serene look on his face as he leaned against Scuzzy’s chair. Maybe Kong hadn’t just been limited by the way others saw him. Maybe the way he viewed himself had played a big part in how things had played out for him in that regard.
Kong knew he was the only guy in the club with a master’s degree and one of the few who had come from an affluent background. His size and the fierceness he’d cultivated over years of dealing with challenges he’d never wanted, from people he’d only tried to fit in with, had been what had led him to the club in the first place. Once he’d found his place among them,he’d been desperate to turn his back on his old life in middle-class America, where he’d been mistaken as the gardener, handyman, and so many other things over the years. His folks had always stressed that he shouldn’t let people’s assumptions upset him, but they’d downright pissed him off! What had always aggravated Kong more was being told he shouldn’t try to solve his problems with his fists. Especially when knocking someone’s tooth down their throat seemed to be the only thing some of his tormentors understood. Even at a young age he’d been bigger. They’d started their taunts with all the usual animal names, like giraffe and elephant boy, adding Gargantua, Bigfoot, Sasquatch, and later, Kong, in an utterly spectacular lack of creativity. Not looking like the two people who’d raised him had been reason enough for others to give him shit, but he’d been a clumsy big guy who’d utterly failed at sports only to excel in the realm of academia.
Talk about life setting him up.
“At least you’re thinking about it,” Creature muttered as he raised his drink to his lips.
“And starting to see the issue began and ended with me,” Kong admitted, raising his head as he said it and locking eyes with Creature.
When Creature’s eyes widened a fraction as a slow smile drew his lips up, Kong thought about kissing them, as pleasure surged through him at having said something that pleased Creature.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Creature declared. “In case you’re wondering, there hasn’t been a time since I met you that I haven’t wanted to see what would happen if you gave in.”
“Well, I’m giving in now.”
“Good. Then make things right with Scout, and we’ll figure out where all the pieces fit. I can’t promise that Axel will be interested, but I’m sure he’ll let you know whatever he decides.”
“Fair enough.”
Chapter 22
(Scout)
“Good, good, keep your knees bent and shift your weight forward, just a little. There you go, feel the rhythm of the wave, don’t press, just roll with it,” Mark encouraged from where he sat on his board several feet away.
Balance was the key. That was the one thing Scout learned the many times he’d been sent flying off the board today. The water was perfect, cool without being cold. The yellow and black wetsuit Mark had given him to put on covered him from neck to mid-thigh, with sleeves that ended a few inches above his elbows. Snug, but not too snug, it was comfortable enough to let him move freely, bending and twisting until he finally felt like he was guiding the board instead of being spun around like back when he’d been learning to ride a mechanical bull. His ribs ached a little, and a few twinges had downright hurt, but he’d learned to breathe through the pain so he could keep right on chasing those waves and learning from the gruff club president who was also as encouraging as Scout’s own father.
Find the rhythm, feel the rhythm, and let it become as much a part of him as the beating of his heart. Shifting his weight, he made the board turn and crouched as the board rose onto the crest of the wave and straightened up as it carried him towards shore.
Closer. Closer.
Scout could hear Mark whooping in the distance, hollering encouragement as Scout managed to stick with the wave and his board until the wave finally died. His dismount, if one could call wobbling before toppling off backward a true dismount, left a lot to be desired. But he’d ridden that thing to shore, and he was damned proud of that accomplishment.
Scout was shocked to hear clapping, though.
Wiping the water from his eyes, Scout spotted the last person he expected to see standing on the shore with a surfboard sticking up out of the sand beside him.
Kong.
“Nicely done,” he called as Scout tugged on the leash attaching him to his board and hauled it closer.
“Thanks,” Scout said, before he turned around and paddled back out to where Mark waited, with a shrewd gaze that missed nothing.
“You’re getting the hang of it,” Mark said.
“Once I started to focus on how it was similar to learning to ride a mechanical bull, a few things clicked, and the flow started to come together.”
“You can ride a mechanical bull?”
“Haven’t been bucked off in years.”
