Final Breath

spiked, straight sand-colored hair and a five o'clock shadow.

It was a look Troy had had for at least eight months now. In fact, when he'd appeared in a Movers & Shakers segment for On the Edge, he'd had the exact same haircut and stubble-length.

He'd been watching Troy for an hour tonight. But he'd watched and studied him many other nights as well. In fact, this wasn't the first time he and Troy had flirted with each other across the bar at Splash.

He wasn't bad looking himself. He'd already had a few Chelsea muscle boys approach him this evening--along with one drag queen. But he'd politely dismissed each one. Splash's Sunday Disco Tea Party was winding down. Yet the bar was still crowded with sweaty men--and pulsating to the beat of Laura Branigan's 'Gloria.'

He watched a handsome jock-type nuzzle up to Troy at the bar. It looked like the guy was trying to strike up a conversation.

From across the bar, he imagined the questions: So what's your name? What do you do?

He was Troy Bischoff, a thirty-one-year-old struggling screenwriter and full-time waiter at Ting, a trendy SoHo restaurant. And he's not interested in you, buddy, the man across the bar thought.

It looked as if the jock was asking Troy to dance, but Troy shook his head. Mr. Jock patted him on the shoulder and moved on. Troy checked out the guy's butt as he walked away, but then his gaze totally shifted direction--across the bar at him. He grinned.

Troy's smile seemed to say, Look what I just passed up for you.

He smiled back, picked up his beer from the tall table, and moved in for the kill.

In for the kill, he thought.

'Hey, I'm Joe,' he said--loudly, over Laura Branigan's singing.

Troy nodded. 'I've been wondering how long it would take you to walk over here.' He raised his martini glass. 'I'm Troy. You look familiar, Joe.'

He chuckled, and leaned in close so he could be heard over all the noise. 'Well, we've been in this same situation before here, only then, I didn't have the nerve to approach you--too much competition at the time. That was about two months ago. Maybe you remember me from then.'

'Maybe,' Troy allowed. He looked him up and down, then right into his eyes.

At that moment, he knew Troy was his.

Thelma Houston's 'Don't Leave Me This Way' began churning over the speakers. Troy moved his hips in sync with the music. Sipping his martini, he cocked his head to one side and grinned. 'So tell me, Joe. What do you do for a living?'

'Believe it or not, I'm a cop!' he shouted over the music.

'No shit!' Troy said, laughing.

'I shit you not. NYPD.'

Troy touched his shoulder, then his hand slid down to his chest and lingered there for a moment. 'Well, I've never made it with a cop before.'

He caressed Troy's arm. 'So what is it you do?'

'I'm a waiter. And I'm pretty sure you've made it with a waiter before.' He laughed at his own remark, then took another sip of his martini. 'But I'm also a screenwriter. I have several people in the industry looking at my latest screenplay.'

'Wow, that's really cool.' Then he put on a perfect look of jaw-dropping revelation. 'Hey, wait a minute. I know where I've seen you before. Last time I was here, I kept wondering why you looked so familiar. That's one reason I kept staring at you--that and the fact that you're so damn cute. You were on TV--Movers and Shakers. You're the waiter who saved that rock star from choking to death in the restaurant...'

Rolling his eyes, Troy nodded. 'Yeah, Via. It's my big claim to fame. I gave Via the Heimlich.'

'You work in that vegetarian restaurant, Tang.'

'Ting, and it's vegan,' Troy said with a tiny frown.

'I remember you on that Movers and Shakers. It was aired back in October, right?'

Troy nodded over his martini glass.

'I remember thinking that if you didn't sell a screenplay; you'd probably get some offers to work in front of the camera, because you're so hot-looking. Did that Movers and Shakers help pave the way for anything?'

Troy sighed. 'Not really. Sydney Jordan shot a lot of footage interviewing me, but didn't use much of it. She ended up spending eighty percent of the story profiling the woman I took the Heimlich and CPR classes from, Caitlin Something. I forget her last name.'

'That sucks, man!' he shouted over the music. 'You're the one who saved Via's life. You should have been in that segment more. You know, I always figured Sydney Jordan was a bitch.'

'She's not bad,' Troy said, shrugging. 'At least, I thought she was cool--until I saw how little of me there was on that Movers and Shakers bit.'

'Well, I would have liked seeing a lot more of you.' He stroked Troy's arm again, and gave him a coy smile. 'So is there a chance I can see a lot more of you tonight?'

'I think that can be arranged,' Troy said. 'I don't live too far from here.'

Yes, I know, Eighth Avenue, he thought.

'And my roommate's out of town,' Troy continued, leaning in for a kiss.

He pulled away--just slightly. 'My ex is here,' he explained. 'Not that he'll go psycho on us or anything, but I don't want him to see us leaving together. Would you mind leaving first? Then I could meet you in five minutes?'

'This is pretty silly,' Troy said.

'I know, indulge me. Then I'll indulge you later. C'mon, meet me on the corner of West Seventeenth and Sixth. I won't keep you waiting long.'

Nodding, Troy grinned. 'Okay, Officer Joe, I'll see you in five minutes. Don't forget to bring your nightstick.' Troy waved to the bartender, and said good-bye to two more people in the bar. Troy was a regular here at Splash. He made his way to the door, glanced back at him, and smiled.

Then Troy left his favorite bar--for the last time in his life.

He wondered if his name was really Joe, and if he was really a cop.

But right now, it didn't matter too much to Troy, because Joe was in his apartment, and he was really hot. They'd already thrown their shirts off. From the way Joe pulled back a little each time, Troy figured he didn't like to kiss--at least, not on the mouth. He'd been with guys like that, and some of them just needed a little warming up.

Fondling and groping each other, they made their way toward Troy's bedroom. His roommate, Meredith, wouldn't be back from Pittsburgh until midmorning. Troy wondered if this Joe guy would be a member of his 'breakfast club.' Those were the guys he let sleep over. He wasn't sure yet.

'You got some porn?' Joe asked, biting at his earlobe. He glanced over at the TV across from Troy's bed. 'I like having porn on when I'm doing it.'

Troy kissed his neck--safe territory. 'Um, I got some old DVDs, yeah.'

'Put one on,' Joe said. He playfully bit his shoulder, then pushed him away. Troy had a one-station home gym in the corner of his bedroom. Joe sat down on the stool--under a bar for pulling weights. He started to take off his shoes and socks.

Troy grinned back at him and made a tiger-growling noise as he walked across the bedroom. Squatting in front of the TV, he pulled a few DVDs from the cabinet underneath it. 'Um, I got Drill Bill...Below the Belt. How about Dawson's Crack?'

'Anything,' Joe said, unzipping his jeans. 'You pick it. I just like having the music and all that copulating noise in the background.'

'Hmmm, the cop likes his copulating noise.' Troy switched on the TV, and popped one of the discs into the