Chapter 2

He remembered the day with bitter disappointment. It was sad. He lost one of the things that kept him sane in a day. Why did she have to be a brunette? Stunning yes, but a fucking brunette.

That didn't stop Lucas from fantasizing about her. In his mind she could be many things. Blonde, redhead. He made love to her over and over in all the different ways. He would taste every part of her. From the curve of her eyebrow to the curve of her foot. His mouth trailed kisses and nibbles on every inch of her skin. Her eyes would flutter closed, her back would arch. She would grab his head when it was buried between her legs, strangling him against her. Begging for him.

He would wake up feeling a little guilty. She was a brunette. And he still wanted her, and hated himself for wanting her.

His work continued. He did what they wanted him to do. Designed what he wanted him to do, in whatever inane crazy way that they wanted it done. It was wrong, but he had given up telling them it was wrong. They knew best. He was thirty today. He got the automated "Happy Birthday" email from HR. 30.

"Was thirty suppose to feel like this?" he asked himself.

He was 30; he had all his hair, and was lean with a runner's body. He thought of himself as plain looking. He wasn't Jude Law, or Tom Cruise, but he wasn't Homer Simpson either. He was polite and a relatively nice guy. He didn't club puppies or anything like that. The few that knew him well even thought he was a pretty funny guy. The few that knew him well were the friends that he had for as long as he could remember. They didn't change; they were the few constants that he could count on. They were there when he needed them. From childhood, they stuck by each other through the war zone of high school and teenage years. They bailed each other out of trouble when the excesses of college were close to drowning each of them.

They were all there but one. After high school Chuck went off to the Marines. He was the most un-military guy you could imagine. Calm and fun-loving. Unflappable. Independent and a little rebellious. None of them could change his mind. None of them could understand why he went.

Lucas, Ray and Jim would talk about him every now and again. They would wonder what he was up to. Where in the world he was?

It was a busy day of web surfing and solitaire playing when Lucas called Ray.

"Ray, did I catch you between clients?" Ray was a lawyer. It was very rare to catch him in between clients.

"Hey Luke, what's up?" Ray replied.

"Just curious. Was surfing the web and I couldn't find any Charles Shirley or C Shirley."

"Okay. Still looking for Chuck?"

"Yeah, but I found his parents. They are about the age of my parents, so they should still be alive."

"Again, okay." From the tone of his voice, Ray was wondering where this conversation was going.

"What would you think if I called his parents and asked them to ask Chuck to call me? It looks like they still live in the old neighborhood."

"That might not be a bad idea. Its time we finally figure out what happened to the guy. Finally put that question to rest."

"Okay. I'll call them tonight. Tell Jimmy what I'm doing. He will probably think I am nuts."

"Nah. He always knew you and Chuck were gay lovers." Ray said with a laugh.

"Fuck you." Luke whispered into the phone before hanging up on the laughter still piping out of the earpiece.

Luke was pretty motivated. He finally had something interesting to do. It was "Where's Waldo?". Hopefully Chuck wasn't kicked out of the military for wearing red striped outfits with matching hats.

He did something he never did. He took a lunch. He decided it was a good day to enjoy the city. Sit in the city park for 20 minutes, get some fresh air, think and do some people watching. He'd grab a cup of Java and kick back and enjoy the sunshine. He was comfortable sitting by himself, lost in his own thoughts. He would watch movies by himself, eat at restaurants by himself. Jim and Ray had their own lives. Ray had a wife and kids. Jim had a wife in training. Luke preferred his own company as opposed to being a third wheel on anyone's date. He was also tired of their little setups anyway. They were almost always disastrous. The women that were chosen to be his blind dates were usually pretty off the wall. He could never relax with them long enough to be himself.