Pacing up and down the fucking sidewalk, I tried calling again, but there was no answer. Maybe Pete the barman got it wrong. Maybe he was thinking of someone else. Maybe I was about to make accusations that simply weren’t true. So I walked back to the two security men at the door, Eric and Theo, and asked them, “Hey, do you guys know a guy named Clay Damon?”
Both guys kind of shrugged. “Name don’t ring a bell,” Eric said.
“He’s about my height, browny-kinda-colored hair, good looking. Rides horses, plays polocrosse,” I said, trying to explain further. “Pete behind the bar said he’s a real piece of work.”
Theo shook his head. “Nah, man.”
“He’s a fireman,” I told them.
There was a flash of recognition in Eric’s eyes. “We kicked a guy outta here about a year ago, told him never to come back. He was a fireman. There was a group of firemen out for a birthday or something, one of them got thrown out. I remember that.”
For someone to be barred from Kings, they must have done something pretty bad. “What did he do to get banned?”
“Belted his so-called boyfriend in the back room.”
My stomach dropped. Without another word, I turned and started walking to Will’s place, and then I started to run.
It was a cold fear that tightened my chest and a sense of dread, and I swore to myself if that son of a bitch laid one finger on Will, I’d rip his head from his shoulders.
Even though I’d run the four blocks to Will’s apartment, my adrenaline and good intentions for homicide were for nothing. He wasn’t home.
I tried his cell again, but still no answer.
And then I started to panic.
And I could have kicked myself for being such a dick during the week. Why the fuck did we skirt around each other? If I hadn’t have been such an immature fucking idiot, I’d know where he was right now.
Not knowing what else to do, I went to all the places I’d known they went to together. Restaurants, clubs, bars—everywhere I could think of. But couldn’t find him. I had no clue where Clay lived or any of his friends’ names. I’d never thought to ask.
I’d been kind of ignorant about the whole thing.
And I sorely regretted it now.
By the time I got home, it was almost midnight, I was stone-cold sober and feeling sick to my stomach. I’d left five messages all told, and he’d not replied. I considered calling Will’s parents but realizing the late hour, decided against it. Although, I’d decided, if I hadn’t heard back from Will by tomorrow morning, I’d call them. I’d go see them if I had to.
After finally falling asleep, I was awoken by the sound of my ringing phone. I fumbled for the nightstand and seeing Will’s name on the screen, I sat up in bed, suddenly very awake. “Will?”
“Yeah, Mark, it’s me. What’s wrong? I just checked my phone, and you’d left a dozen messages. Did something happen?”
I checked the time. It was ten past seven. “Where are you? I’ve been worried sick.”
“We’re out of town,” he said. “I told you Clay had a game this weekend, so we came up a day early. What is it, Mark? What was the emergency?”
“I needed to know you were okay,” I told him, scrubbing my hand over my face. “Will, I need to tell you something.”
“Tell me what?” he asked cautiously.
“I think you should leave Clay. Get in your car or catch a bus or a cab if you have to, just stay away from him.”
There was nothing but silence for a long while. “What?”
“I heard some bad things about him, Will. That he’s abusive, that he belted his boyfriend.”
Again, silence.
“Will, you there?” I asked. “Is Clay there? Where is he right now?”
“He’s in the shower,” Will said softly. “Who told you that? Who said that about him?”
“Pete.”
“The barman at Kings?”
“Yes!”
“Oh Jesus, Mark, really?” Will scoffed into the phone. “He also takes twenties from the sluts out back for blow jobs.”
I ignored that. “One of the bouncers said so too.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mark. You hardly said a word to me all week, but you were asking about Clay at the club?”
“Yes!” I cried. “I was worried about you!”
“You realize you sound a little crazy right now?”
“Will, I’m being serious.”
“So am I, Mark,” he said flatly. “Look, I’ll call you tomorrow night.”
And then I was listening to a dial tone.
Fuck.
I fell back onto the bed with a frustrated groan and lay there staring at the ceiling. In the light of day, I could see that maybe I did overreact. Maybe Pete the barman and the two security guards weren’t the best witnesses. I didn’t even really have proof.
I think they were talking about Clay.
Pete caught the name, and said he had a reputation as an asshole who once hit his so-called boyfriend in the back room. Then Eric the security guy said it was a fireman who got thrown out.
Even if I was wrong, I couldn’t bring myself to be sorry.
Because if I was right, if Clay was the type of guy to raise his hand in anger, then warning Will was the right thing to do.
Even if he hated me for it.
I decided I’d wait. Will sounded happy enough with Clay, and maybe there was some confusion on my behalf, but either way, I would wait to hear both sides of the story.
So I tried to forget about it.
I had one of the longest, shittiest weekends of my life.
I was angry and lonely, never a good combination. On Saturday, I considered going out and getting smashed and laid, but in the end, walked down to the cinema and watched some latest movie about superheroes.
Well, that wasn’t true. I paid to watch it, but sat there and stared at the screen, thinking about my life.
And I thought about Carter’s suggestion that I move to Boston.
It was something I wanted to talk over with Will, but then it occurred to me that he might not give a fuck.
I hated that feeling. I hated feeling dumped. I hated feeling second best.
Carter had found someone, now Will. Hell, even my mother had found someone new.
So maybe I needed a change. Maybe a move to a different city was what I needed. A new city, new clubs, new faces.
I thought of Carter’s offer to house-sit for him and Isaac while they were away, and by the time I got home, I was convinced it was a good place to start.
I’d take some leave from work and spend the time in Boston, see if it was where I’d want to live. I’d always enjoyed my time there when I visited, so maybe I’d see what the employment and rental market was like while I was there.
Will didn’t call me on Sunday. Instead, I got a short text. Won’t be home till late. See you at work tomorrow.
I turned my phone in my hands over and over, thinking of things I should say, questions I should ask.
Instead, I turned my phone off, lay down on the sofa, and stared at the TV.
If the last few weeks had been awkward between me and Will, then Monday was the standout.
I got to work early and waited out front for him. I was strangely nervous about seeing him, wondering how the conversation about my accusations would go.
My heart thumped out of time when I saw him, and the closer he got, the more nervous I became. When he looked up and saw me, he quickly looked at the ground. He stopped when he got to me, but still didn’t say anything and still didn’t look at me.
“Hey,” I said softly.
He cleared his throat. “We’d better get inside. It’s almost nine.” And with that, he brushed past me and through the front doors to work.
So that was it.
I took a deep breath, swallowed the lump in my throat, and followed him in.
Just like the week before, the next few hours were so fucking quiet between us. There was no banter, no laughs.
“Going for employee of the month, Gattison?” Hubbard asked behind me.
I swiveled my chair around to look at him. I didn’t even pretend to smile at his attempt at a joke. “About that, sir,” I started. “I was wondering if I could put in for some vacation time?”
I figured asking him in front of Will would save everyone from more awkward conversations later.
“When?” Hubbard asked. “And for how long?”
“In three weeks. And I’d be gone for a month, sir.”
Hubbard frowned, and his whole round little face puckered. “Hmm, I’ll check the staff allocation and let you know.”
“Thanks,” I said quietly.
He stared at me for a long moment, as though he couldn’t decide if he cared enough to ask. In the end, he asked anyway. “Everything okay, Gattison?”
“Yeah,” I lied poorly. “Just fine.” I turned my chair back to my desk, not caring if he believed me or not. I didn’t watch him leave.
Instead, I stood up and headed to the men’s room. I leaned against the sink and pulled my phone from my pocket. I sent Carter a text, telling him they had a house sitter.
The bathroom door opened, and Will stopped when he saw me. He closed the door and leaned against it. He looked confused. “Are you leaving for a month?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “I need some…” Then I corrected myself. “Carter and Isaac need a house sitter and someone to mind the dog and cat while they’re away.”
He nodded slowly. “Mark, I—”
I put my hand up to stop him. “Will, it’s fine. You don’t have to come to the wedding if you don’t want. Actually, the way things have been lately, it’s probably best if you didn’t come.”
I walked over to him and, grabbing the door handle, had to wait for him to step aside so I could open the door.
I’m not sure why I said that. I wanted to give Will an out, so he didn’t feel obliged to come with me. I just didn’t mean to say it like that. But I felt a little better at the hurt on his face as I left him in the bathroom.
And then two-point-five seconds later, I felt a hundred times worse.
Fuck.
The next hour waiting for our lunch break was hell. The silence from Will was deafening, the clock ticked too fucking loud, and every time Will’s phone buzzed with a message, my stomach twisted into knots. The second the clock ticked over to one o’clock, I was up and out of my chair.
I wasn’t hungry. But I had to leave.
“Mark?” Will called out.
I turned around to face him. “You know what?” I said. “If you want to believe him over me, then that’s your choice. I can’t change that.”
“Mark,” Will said. He stood up and took a step closer to me. “Why does me being with him mean losing you?
“Why do you believe him and not me?” I shot back at him.
“He’s not like that. He’s really kind of perfect, actually,” Will said. “He’s sweet, romantic, and charming.”
“I wouldn’t make this shit up. I wouldn’t lie to you about something so serious.”
“You have no proof,” he said quietly. “Just hearsay from a barman, who Clay probably turned down. Why are you trying to ruin this for me?”
Other people in the office were looking at us, and I didn’t give a fuck. “I’m trying to help you, Will. But you want proof? Fine. I’ll get you proof.”
I stormed out of the office, and too fucking angry to wait for the elevator, I took the stairs. I needed to find some evidence that Mr Perfect was actually Mr Asshole, and so I started at the beginning.
I needed to speak to Pete.
I didn’t even know if Kings would be open at one o’clock in the afternoon, but the sign on the door said it was, so I took a moment to catch my breath before walking in.
I’d never noticed the stale stench of the place before. Or how dingy it looked in the daylight. I guess I’d never been there in the cold, sober light of day before. The floor wasn’t exactly clean, the furniture was discolored, and the disheveled patrons looked like they fit in. Jesus, nighttime, a dozen drinks, and neon lighting had a lot to answer for.
But I was in luck.
A guy walked into the bar from the back storeroom carrying a large box, and when he put it on the counter, I saw it was Pete.
He looked at me, and then looked again. “Mark?”
“Yeah, hey, Pete,” I answered.
“You’re a little overdressed,” he said with a smile.
I looked down at my suit and tie. “Yeah, corporate armor.”
He smiled. “What can I do for you?”
“Something you said the other night,” I started. “I wanted to ask you about that Clay Damon guy.”
Pete nodded as though he presumed as much. “You left in a bit of a hurry the other night.”
“Is it true?” I asked. “Because I told Will and he doesn’t believe me.”
“I wasn’t here the night it happened, but the staff talked about it,” he said. “We don’t have a lot of trouble here, so the few instances we have kinda stick out. That’s why I remember the guy’s name. Everyone thought he was the catch of a lifetime, but yeah, he really isn’t.”
I nodded and told him what I already knew. “The guys on the door said they knew it was a fireman who bashed his boyfriend.”
Pete sighed and kind of shrugged. “Apparently someone hit on the boyfriend, danced with him or something. He took his boyfriend into the bathroom. They said the kid looked fucking scared, like he knew he was gonna cop it.”
“What did he do?”
Pete shrugged. “Don’t really know. The kid said he had too much to drink and fell over, cracked his eye open on a table or something. But there were two guys who heard the whole thing and told the manager.”
My stomach turned. “Who was it?” I asked. “The kid? The boyfriend? Do you know his name?”
Pete had to think for a second. “You know that Sebastian guy? Blond hair, nose ring.”
“Sebastian? Works at Starbucks and comes in with red-headed Colin? That Sebastian?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
I knew him. I’d seen him around a lot, either at the club or working at the coffee shop I refused to go into. I think I might have talked to him a few times. He was maybe a few years younger than me, rather twinky, a little bit punkish, very pretty-looking guy.
I had to find him. I didn’t even know if he still worked at Starbucks. From memory, he was studying at college, so maybe he was finished studying and worked somewhere else. Maybe I’d never find him. Maybe I’d never get the proof I needed.
But I had to try.
I had twenty minutes to get back to work, so I took a detour past the coffee shop. He wasn’t behind the counter, but I stood in line and ordered a coffee and a savory muffin and when the girl behind the counter asked if I wanted anything else, I gave her a smile. The type of smile that normally got me what I wanted.
“Does Sebastian still work here?” I asked. “I haven’t seen him around much.”
She called out to someone else. “What time does Seb start?”
“Afternoon shift,” came the reply.
The girl handed me my coffee and muffin. “He’ll start at four.”
I gave her an appreciative smile. “Thanks.”
When I got back to work, Will was already there. He looked at the Starbucks cup in my hand and frowned. He knew I didn’t really like Starbucks, that I preferred smaller, more personal coffee shops—I’d complained about it enough and never let him drink there—so he was probably wondering why I’d gone there. But he never said anything. And neither did I.
Will had an onsite appointment in the afternoon, which wasn’t too uncommon. Someone somewhere needed an engineer in the form of a suit to run through some numbers.
So at five o’clock, I left the office and headed straight to find Sebastian.
I saw him as soon as I walked in. He was on barista duty, working the machine, so I bypassed the line up at the counter and walked over to the end of the counter, where Sebastian was.
He looked up, and a flash of recognition flickered in his eyes. He definitely recognized me, but in case he didn’t know my name, I told him.
“My name’s Mark.”
“Hey,” he said, looking at me, then to the cup in his hand, back to me, and then to the lineup of people at the counter. “If you want coffee…”
“No, I wanted to talk to you, actually.”
“Oh,” he said, blinking in surprise. “What about?”
“I was hoping you could tell me something about Clay Damon.”
His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. Sebastian didn’t even have to answer with words. His immediate reaction said all I needed to know.
I nodded at his silent admission. “You don’t have to tell me,” I said softly. “But there’s someone else you need to talk to for me, if that’s okay. I can bring him in here, and maybe you could take a break and speak to him.”
The frothing milk in his hand seemed forgotten. “Is he seeing him?”
I nodded. “For about three weeks. Says he’s perfect but I was warned. He won’t believe me.”
Sebastian nodded, and after blinking a few times, he concentrated on his work for a while, filling some cups. I wondered if he said all he was going to say. I would imagine it wasn’t something he wanted to revisit often. He blinked again. “I’ll talk to him,” he said quietly.
“When do you work next?”
“Tomorrow at four.”
“Can I bring him here just after five?” I asked him quietly. “Or somewhere else?”
“Here’s okay,” he said softly. “I’ll take a break and can speak to him.”
I looked at him, right in his eyes. “Thank you.”
He nodded, as though he understood.
I guessed he did.
I had no clue how Will would react. I had no idea.
I just hoped he’d listen.
As much as I wanted my friend back, I just wanted him to be safe even more.
When I got to work the next day, Will was already there. I put my keys and phone in my desk drawer and stood at the end of cubicle wall that divided us. I waited for him to look at me. “After work today, would you go somewhere with me?”
Will looked at me for a long moment. I don’t know what he saw on my face or whether it the quiet desperation of my voice. “Okay.”
“Thank you.”
At five o’clock, I walked up the sidewalk with Will. Neither of us spoke—we’d hardly talked all day—but when I stopped at the Starbucks and held the door open for him, he looked at me. “What are we here for?”
“You wanted proof,” I answered quietly. Will seemed frozen to the spot, unable to move, so I gave him a sad smile. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
And with that, I walked inside.
I ordered two coffees, and we sat at table at the back of the café. I gave a nod to Sebastian, and Will looked at me, not touching his coffee. “Are we meeting someone here?” he asked.
Just then, Sebastian walked over to our table, wiping his hands on the small black apron tied around his waist.
I looked at Will. “I’m just gonna give you guys a minute,” I said, standing up and taking my coffee to a different table.
I watched as Sebastian sat down, and Will still looked confused. I couldn’t hear what Sebastian told him, but I watched the color drain from Will’s face. At first he looked as though he might get up and leave, but he didn’t. His eyes darted to mine as Sebastian spoke, but for ten minutes he sat and listened.
Sebastian stood up, and after briefly touching Will’s shoulder, he walked back behind the counter. Will sat there for a moment, and then he looked at me. Before I could stand up, Will got to his feet and bolted out the door.
I stood up slowly, gave a nod of thanks to Sebastian and walked out onto the sidewalk. There was no sign of Will in either direction, and figuring he didn’t exactly like me right now, I slowly walked home.
I felt like shit.
I threw my wallet, phone, and keys on the hall stand and pulled off my tie. I got changed into jeans and a tee-shirt and, not sure what I was looking for, opened the fridge when my intercom buzzed.
I pressed the button, and a very familiar voice said, “It’s me.”
I hit the door button and rested my forehead against the wall. I think I was starting to come down with something. I’d been feeling nauseous on and off for weeks.
I opened my front door and waited for Will. He walked straight inside to the kitchen and leaned against the counter. He stared at me with wide eyes, and he ran his hand through his hair.
I followed him and stood across the kitchen from him. I didn’t care if he was about to abuse me or cry. I wouldn’t have minded either, even if he ripped me a new one, it was better than his silence. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
He swallowed hard. “Me too.”
“I’m sorry you had to hear what Sebastian said.”
Will shook his head. “Don’t apologize.”
“Do you hate me?”
Will’s eyes shot to mine. “What? No! No, I could never hate you.” He ran his hand through his hair again. “I should thank you.”
I couldn’t explain the relief that flooded through me. “I know you liked him, but Will, I had to do something. It must’ve been hard to hear all that, but to be honest, even if you tell me right now you’re never speaking to me again, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. These last two weeks have been awful without you, and you wouldn’t believe me when I told you that Clay was no good, and if he laid a hand on you… if he hurt you… I’d never forgive myself.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
“Was what Sebastian told you horrible?” I asked.
Will frowned and nodded.
I quickly stepped in front of Will and lifted his face with my hand. “Did Clay hurt you? Did he do anything…”
Will shook his head, but there was a sadness in his eyes. “No, but what that Sebastian guy said was… well, I could see what he meant. Clay was very intense about a lot of things.”
“If he hurt you…” I started. I ran my hands down his face. “Then I’d have to kill him and then I’d be in jail with no lube, and you’d have to smuggle in a file in a cake and bring me porn and lube.”
Will finally smiled. But it faded quickly. “I’m giving up,” he said quietly.
“You’re what?”
“Giving up,” he said again, “on love.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It works for you?”
“Does it?”
He nodded, but then changed the subject. “I need to call Clay. I’m supposed to be meeting him tonight.” He looked at me. “I need to tell him we’re through.”
“Did you want me to call him?” I asked. “Because it would be my pleasure.”
Will smiled again, but he shook his head. “No, just being here with you is enough.” He looked up to the ceiling and exhaled through puffed cheeks, then he looked around my apartment and noticed the two new frames on the wall. “Did you get those silly paintings framed?”
“They’re not silly,” I said. “And of course I did.”
He walked over to them and touched the glass of the red, yellow, and orange mess we made. “You really kept this?”
I joined him and pointed to the gray charcoal drawing. “This one is my favorite.”
He gave me a sad smile and seemed a little lost for words. So I spoke instead. “I’m still sorry,” I said putting my hand on his arm. “I wished things with Clay didn’t turn out the way it did. I didn’t set out to deliberately ruin things for you.”
“I know that,” he said. “I should have seen that, and I’m sorry.”
“I just want you to be happy,” I told him.
He eyes searched mine. “Do you?”
“Of course I do. You’re my best friend, Will,” I told him.
His brow furrowed and he looked down to the floor for a moment, then he looked up at me. “Mark, I—”
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by his ringing cell phone. Startled, he took a step back and checked the screen on his phone. “It’s Clay.”
I stepped away, and Will walked down the short hall, presumably to my bedroom for some privacy. I ordered pizza while he told Clay he didn’t think it was working out. He obviously wasn’t happy with the news, because it was a rather long conversation.
I had to admit, standing so close to Will, touching him like that, was a little intense. Maybe it was just because I’d missed him these last few weeks, or maybe it was because of the conversation he had with Sebastian, the emotion of it all. I didn’t know.
When he sat on the sofa opposite me, he threw his phone onto the coffee table and then followed with his feet. I already had my feet on the table between the two sofas so I tapped his foot with mine. “How’d he take it?”
Will sighed. “Not happy.”
“You did the right thing.”
“I know,” he said. “He wanted to know if you had anything to do with it.”
I laughed. “Did you tell him yes?”
Will shook his head; he didn’t smile. “No, at first I told him I didn’t think it was working out, but he didn’t agree. So I told him it had something to do with meeting one of his exes who had the scars to prove it.”
“Oh, man,” I whispered.
Will shook his head angrily. “Jesus, Mark. That Sebastian kid was just twenty-two when he was with Clay.”
Pizza arrived, and as we ate, Will told me what Sebastian had told him. How for the first few months, Clay would make you feel like you were the only person who mattered, and once he had you hooked, he thought he owned you.
“That’s exactly what he’s like,” Will said. “Very generous—and focused. The, um—” Will hesitated, and he blushed. “—the sex was very intense.”
Oh.
I shouldn’t have been surprised they’d had sex, but I was. I didn’t like the thought of Clay touching him like that.
“That’s what really rang true,” Will went on to say. “What made me know it was true was when Sebastian said it started with being intense in bed, then it became a little forceful.”
I sat forward on the edge of the sofa. “Will, did he hurt you?” I asked again, this time softer.
“No,” he repeated his earlier answer. “He was just… intense. It’s the only word I can think of to describe it.” Will shook his head. “He held on a little tight, that kind of thing, stared at me while he… was inside me.”
I shook my head at the absurdity of this conversation and took a deep breath. Will and I talked about a lot of things, including sex, but never detailed accounts. Not like that. “But he never hurt you?”
Will smiled at me. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me that,” he said. “No, he didn’t. In fact, he treated me like I was the best thing to ever happen to him.”
I frowned at that.
Then Will told me Sebastian had told him even he wasn’t the first one Clay had hit. He thought things would be different with him, but after the incident at Kings where he’d ended up with cracked ribs and three stitches to his eyebrow, he left him.
“He didn’t press charges?”
“That’s what I asked him,” Will said. “Sebastian said he just wanted it to be over. He said his parents came in with a lawyer to get him away from Clay, threatened if he didn’t leave Sebastian alone, they’d press full charges and make such a media circus out of him, he’d lose his job.”
“Smart parents,” I said.
“He was lucky he had them,” Will said in a whisper.
I knew what he meant. He meant Sebastian was lucky he had his parents’ support, because Will certainly didn’t. His parents didn’t give a shit.
“I’d have come for you,” I said.
He smiled sadly. “You did.”
“And I would again,” I told him, “with my kick-ass ninja skills, guns blazing.” Then I added, “And a lawyer.”
“Ninjas don’t have guns.”
“Ah, but these are special gun-toting ninjas. They’re extra cool.”
Will laughed, just as the intercom buzzed. His smile died right there. “Expecting anyone else?”
“No.”
“You don’t think it’s Clay, do you?” Will asked softly.
I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I wasn’t expecting anyone, but the thought of a pissed-off Clay being downstairs was rather appealing because I had an awful lot to say to him. Will and I both walked over to the intercom and he stood beside me as I pressed the button.
My mother’s voice came through intercom, shrill and loud. “Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou, Romeo?”
I leaned my head against the wall, exhaled loudly, and pressed the button. “I hope you brought beer, Juliet.”
“A sixer,” she answered. “Is that enough?”
I looked at Will. He finally smiled as he held up three fingers and mouthed, “Three for me, three for you.”
“Close enough.” I pressed the door release button.
Will quickly took the empty pizza box off the coffee table and tidied up just as my mother got to the door.
“Hello, darling,” she said, handing over the six pack of beer as she walked in. Then she spotted Will. “Oh, my sweet William,” she said, giving him a kiss on both cheeks. “You’re here!”
“I am,” he said. “Can I get you a drink?”
“See, Mark, dear,” she said, looking at me. “Will looks after me. He gets me a drink, I get you yours,” she said, looking at the beers I was holding. “What’s wrong with this picture?”
“You had the wrong son?” I guessed. I meant it as a joke, but she seemed to consider it.
“Well, if you two would just get married, then I’d have both of you!” she said matter-of-factly.
Will poured my mom a gin from the bottle I kept just for her, and ignoring her comment about pending nuptials, I took two beers and joined my mother on the sofa. “To what do I owe this utmost pleasure?”
“Well, I came to check on you,” she said. “Ted had some work meeting, so I thought I’d pop in and see how you were. You were sad when you came for dinner the other night.”
I glanced to Will—a look my mother didn’t miss—and said, “I’m fine, Mom.”
Her eyes darted to the kitchen where Will was. “Yes, I can see that.”
I rolled my eyes, and she smiled and thanked Will as he handed her a drink.
“How’re things with Ted?” I asked.
“Fabulous,” she answered, smiling as she sipped her drink. “He’s an insatiable flirt, and he drinks and smokes.”
“Perfect catch!” Will said with a smile.
“I think so,” she said, as she rummaged through her handbag for her cigarettes. “He’s fun.”
“Wedding bells soon?” I asked.
Mom lit her cigarette and blew smoke out across the room. “Not sure. Might date this one for a while first.”
Well, shit. “It must be love.”
Will laughed at us, and it was good to hear it. I’d missed the sound. Mom looked at him then and asked, “How about you, Will? What have you been up to?”
Will glanced at me, then back to Mom. “Not much,” he said, apparently not wanting to explain the whole Clay ordeal. “Just work.”
Mom groaned. “How is Old Man Hubbard? Still a pain in the ass?”
“He’s still a pain in the ass,” Will confirmed.
“You know, he’s probably just sexually frustrated. He might need a good… what’s that gross licking thing you gays do…?”
I sipped my beer. “Teabagging?”
Mom shook her head. “No.”
I shrugged. “Rimming?”
She pointed her finger. “That’s it. He might just need a good rimming.”
“Mom…” I pointlessly chastised her.
She took a drag of her cigarette. “How does that story go? Old Man Hubbard went to the cupboard, to fetch poor Rover a bone. When he got there, the cupboard was bare, so Rover gave him a bone of his own.”
“Mom!”
Will fell to his side and buried his face into a cushion, though I could still hear him laughing.
“Don’t encourage her, Will,” I said, almost begging. “For God’s sake.”
He sat up and looked at me, still grinning. “I love your mom.”
My mother looked at me and sipped her drink. “Well, at least someone here appreciates me.”
“I’m going to need more beer,” I announced to no one in particular.
Then Mom spied something and pointed toward the rarely used dining table. “What’s that?”
I looked at the box in question. “Oh, I forgot about that,” I said. “I ordered Halloween costumes and they arrived last week.”
“You didn’t open it yet?” Mom asked.
I looked at Will. “Well, I wasn’t sure if I was even going to do anything this year.”
My mother gasped, oblivious to the frown Will gave me. “Mark Gattison! Halloween is this weekend! I raised you better than that.”
“Yes, God forbid I don’t dress up and ask for candy off strangers.”
Ignoring my jibe at her parenting skills, Mom finished her drink. “Open the box,” she demanded. “What are you going as? I want to see!”
Knowing it’d be less painful to do as she asked, I grabbed the heavy box and sat back down on the sofa, then ripped at the tape to open the box. The first thing I took out was a plastic bag with a picture of the Superman on the front. I held it up and threw it to Will, and then I pulled out the bag with my costume.
I showed Mom the picture on the front.
She squealed and clapped her hands together. “You’ll be the best Wonder Woman ever.”
I grinned at my mother. “I know, right?”
Will laughed again, then looked at the costume in his hand. “I thought I was the Boy Wonder.”
Mom clucked her tongue. “Superheroes have to be versatile, dear.”
I nodded at Will. “That’s true.” Then I told Mom, “Plus, Will thinks Robin’s yellow cape isn’t a real cape.”
“Because it’s yellow?” she asked Will.
He shrugged one shoulder. “I never said it wasn’t a real cape. I just said it’s not the best cape.”
Mom shook her head. “I swear. Some days I could just punch your parents,” she said, disgusted. She looked at me. “Who raises their kids to think that?”
“I know,” I agreed. “It’s not much to ask for. Food, shelter, love, and a comprehensive appreciation for the non-prejudicial diversification of superhero capes.”
Mom nodded and tapped her glass to mine. “I’ll drink to that.”
I ripped open the costume bag and the first piece of clothing I pulled out was the blue pants with white stars on them. They weren’t exactly big.
Mom eyed them cautiously. “Where will you put your junk?”
Will choked on a mouthful of beer. He really should be used to my mother by now.
Mom took the pants from me and holding them up, turned them to look at the back then the front. “Are you going to tuck?” she asked me. “There’s not a great deal of room in there.”
“I’m not going to tuck, Mom,” I admitted. Then I pulled a gold wrist band from the costume bag. “Cool, check these out.”
As I pulled out the other items in the costume, Will did the same with his. He held up his red cape. “See? Red capes are much better.”
“Ooh,” Mom said. “You should get those stretchy underpants all the gay porn stars are wearing these days and wear them instead of those blue Lycra-looking ones. They make all their dicks look huge.”
“Because all their dicks are huge,” I said. “They’re called trophy briefs for a reason.”
“True,” Mom agreed.
“Are you going out for Halloween?” Will asked my mom.
She finished her drink and smiled. “We’re having a private party,” she said with a giggle. “Ted is going to be the Cookie Monster. I have his blue outfit all organized.”
“Cookie Monster?” I asked. “Do I even want to know what Sesame Street character you’re going as?”
“No, dear,” she said like I was clueless. “I’m the cookie. I even bought the chocolate paint so he could—”
“Mom,” I cut her off. “For the love of all things G-rated, please don’t finish that sentence.”
Will roared with laughter, and Mom shook her head at both of us. “Well, I best be going,” she said. “Will, I’m calling a cab. How about you come with me, save you walking at this time of night.”
“Okay, sounds good,” he said, still smiling.
Mom stood up and while she called a cab, Will collected his costume, shoving it all back in the bag.
“You wanna do Halloween?” I asked. “It’s kind of short notice and all.”
He smiled and nodded. “Would love to.”
I grinned back at him. “Good.”
While Mom was still on the phone, he whispered, “Thank you, Mark. Not just for what happened with Sebastian, but also for tonight. It’s been good having a laugh again.”
“It sure has,” I agreed. And when it came time to leave, Will stood at the door for a fraction of a second, then turned back to me. He stood there as if he was unsure of something, then he hugged me.
It surprised me at first, but as he pulled me against himself, I slid my arms around his waist and buried my face in his neck. It wasn’t a friends’ embrace. There were no pats on the back, it wasn’t a quick hug. I didn’t know what it was.
But he smelled so good, and he fit against me just right.
“Thank you,” he whispered in my ear before pulling away. “See you at work tomorrow,” he said as he walked down the hall with my mother.
I swear I could still feel the warmth of his body against mine.
I dreamed of Will that night. Which wasn’t too weird in itself, I’d had plenty of dreams where he’d done something funny, but this was a sex-dream. We were in bed naked, writhing and grinding, then I was inside of him and he was breathing my name.
I woke up hard and close to coming.
I didn’t even bother going into the shower. I jerked off in bed, groaning as I gripped myself, and it was the images of Will that replayed through my mind as I came.
Fuck, this was getting ridiculous. Just because I hadn’t had sex in forever and Will hugged me, of course my stupid sleep-brain would make the two related. Those were dots my normal daytime-brain wouldn’t join.
But I was certain of one thing. I really needed to get laid. I couldn’t keep having sex dreams of my best friend. That would just make shit weird—and after everything we’d been through these last few weeks, weird was something we could do without.
I was telling Will when we first got to work how awesome the Halloween party was going to be, and he was laughing at my mother’s Cookie Monster’s cookie outfit and I was telling him to get fucked, when Hubbard walked past.
He stopped and stared at the both of us laughing, and huffed. “I liked it better when you two didn’t get along.”
I considered giving him the bird, but thought better of it and did some work instead.
The next few days were great. Will and I were back to our old selves, he never heard from Clay and we had the weekend to look forward to.
I just didn’t realize how it would all turn to shit so soon.