Going Dark(28)
“To do what?”
In answer, Flynn’s eyes swept across the expanse of Prince Key.
“You came out here because of me.”
Flynn nodded.
“Because I inspired you.”
“Don’t mock me, Thorn. I don’t deserve that.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m trying to absorb what you’re saying. I spent the last year thinking I’d lost you.”
“I was wrong to act that way. It was bitter and childish.”
“Apology accepted.”
“After I saw your place, it hit me how much I hated my career, my day-to-day existence. How empty it felt, how artificial. TV acting, for godsakes. I made a promise to myself. I would simplify. Try to connect more with the natural world. The water, the outdoors.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“I bought a freaking boat, a beat-up Boston Whaler, started poking around the bay, going into the ocean, just learning my way step by step.”
“And this place? It’s some kind of boot camp?”
Flynn stood up, paced out into the scraggly grass, bent down and picked up a rock, and sailed it over the tops of the mangroves. The boy had a damn good arm. For an actor, for a city boy.
He came back to the bench and sat, stared toward the tent. No one there. No one in the field. But Thorn could feel the tickle of eyes watching.
“I’ve known Cameron for years. On the surface he’s this freak of nature, the Incredible Hulk, an armor-plated aberration. But there’s more to him than that. He’s a sensitive guy, smart.”
“So far, I’ve only met the armor-plated side.”
“Well, I know him a little better. Four, five years ago I was doing a play at the Grove Theater and he came up to me after and we started talking about how I was handling my part. He’s very tuned in to the nuances of drama. At first I thought he was trying to hit on me. I had that stupid cliché in my head, all bodybuilders are gay.”
Thorn was silent. Sensitive territory.
“I’m gay,” Flynn said. “You know that, right?”
“Yes, I know that.”
“It bothers you, doesn’t it? My sexuality.”
“Hasn’t yet.”
Flynn tested him with a long look. And seemed to accept the answer. “So Prince and I got friendly, went out to dinner, had some laughs.” He halted, looked around, swallowed a breath.
“You had some laughs, and…”
“And nothing. I got busy with work, lost track of him. Then last fall I was at a public hearing about Turkey Point, Florida Power and Light’s expansion plans to build two new reactors on the site. The Sierra Club is protesting it because of the impact on the wetlands. FPL wants approval to drill dozens of coastal wells along Biscayne Bay for backup cooling water. It’s a terrible idea.
“Pump millions of gallons a day out of the Biscayne aquifer. And the nine square miles of cooling canals that are full of heavy, hot, hypersaline water sinking into the aquifer, too, like we don’t already have enough saltwater intrusion fouling our drinking supply. Thousands of pounds of radioactive waste lying around for centuries.”
“You’ve studied up.”
“It’s bad. Nobody’s paying attention, but it’s bad. So I’d gone to a lot of meetings as part of the all new and improved Flynn Moss. Gotten to know people, made friends.
“That night Cameron and Leslie Levine were guest speakers. They talked up the croc program they run. Dodged any questions about nuclear power.
“When they finished, they came over. Long story short, Prince invited me to his house, just the three of us, and I could tell they had an agenda. They wanted to know about the Sierra Club, what I knew about their plans to protest the new reactors, how devoted I was to the antinuke thing. Feeling me out, trying to see if I might be useful somehow.”
“Useful?”
“They were looking for recruits.”
“For what?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Why not?”
Flynn hung his head like a beaten man.
“I’ll keep your secrets, Flynn. Whatever they are.”
“Why are you here, Thorn? What do you have to do with Prince?”
“He showed up at my place yesterday.”
“He did? Why?”
“Don’t know. He just wandered around. Didn’t seem to be looking for me. We spoke a little, but he didn’t tell me his name. I got his license tag, tracked him to his Grove house, saw a photo of you on the wall, thought that was weird, so I came out here to talk to him, see what the hell was going on.”
“You were suspicious.”
“Something smelled funny.”
“Does anybody else know where you are? Does Sugarman?”