Memories, like shattered glass sparkle in the sun
Razors to the heart they are, each and every one
—Liam O’Shea, “Razors to the Heart”, Just Liam
* * * *
Liam believed his mother had survived her last year on iron will alone. She badly wanted to witness her boy’s success. It took three days to bury Lily with all the formality and honor Liam and Milo felt she deserved.
Liam held up until the day after the funeral. Company came, some of whom hadn’t made it to the funeral. Suddenly, he bolted from the living room, where his neighbors and friends had gathered to offer comfort, and ran to the upstairs toilet. Thirty-one minutes later, after Milo saw to the guests, he sought Liam out. He found him curled on the bathroom rug next to the toilet, his face red from exertion and tears. He clutched his stomach, the muscles sore to the touch.
“I should have come up here sooner. Guess you have nothing left to heave, buddy.” Milo reached up to the rack over the toilet and pulled down a plain white washcloth. He wet it in the sink. Then, sitting down next to Liam, Milo pulled him onto his lap. “Don’t worry. I’ll get the hang of this guardian stuff.”
Milo wiped Liam’s face and hands with the cool cloth. He placed a gentle kiss on Liam’s forehead, and Liam broke out again in heartfelt sobs. He cried on Milo’s chest while Milo rocked him back and forth to soothe him.
After a while, Liam’s body and brain began to function. Nestled in Milo’s arms he got a raging hard on, and underneath his ass he felt the poke of reciprocal interest. When Liam turned to Milo to respond, Milo hugged him in a quick fashion before shoving Liam off his lap.
Milo rose, and in a brisk tone said, “Please, get it together. The people downstairs wish to pay their respects to your mother, and they can only do so by talking to you.” Then Milo turned on his heel and walked out of the bathroom.
Liam knew he had lost control. For years he’d maintained iron control around Milo. He’d known he was gay since his first flush of sexual interest around the age of twelve. He arranged ‘Lover’s Suite’ to serve as his declaration of love to Milo, a love that Liam believed Milo would never return. Yet even in his current misery, Liam felt the poke of Milo’s interested organ.
The way Milo backed away from me so quickly tells me he doesn’t want me to know. He thinks I’m too young. I’ll just have to show him I’m not. With a new determination, Liam went down to see to the guests.
* * * *
Over the three days following Lily’s death, the band moved in to Liam’s house. The guys planned it that way, but Liam felt it should be just him and Milo. When the last guests left, Rick, more than half-plastered, went to bed. Sam and Milo went out to one of the local pubs for a few beers.
“You know,” Milo said, “Liam doesn’t like it that we all moved in together.”
“Did you give him the line about bonding and needing the practice time?”
“Yeah, but it’s not flying. I’m happy you guys are there if for nothing other than keeping me honest.” Milo lifted his bottle to Sam in a half-hearted toast.
“Look, bro, you have to keep it in your pants for at least another two years. Longer, if you can. He needs time to grow up and fall in love.”
Milo shot Sam a look. “You’re kidding me. You know as well as I do what Liam’s orientation always has been. We grew up protecting him from himself.”
“Yeah, and now we have to loosen the reins and let him get some experience. Don’t worry, I’ll give him the safe sex lecture. I know you can’t do it. You want to lock him up for a couple of years so that when he’s ready, you can pounce.”
“I know he’s gay,” Milo insisted.
“I know you’re gay, yet I’ve seen you fuck cheerleaders until the leather split on the back seat upholstery of your old man’s Buick. If you don’t push him out of the nest, you’ll be full of doubt and regret later. It’ll be like waiting for a train wreck.”
* * * *
At two A.M. that morning, Liam heard Sam and Milo fumbling with the door keys as they tried to be quiet in the loud way only drunks can manage. He thought he heard a giggle and crept out of his room to the top of the stairs. Sam tiptoed downstairs to the bottom floor of the bi-level to the fourth bedroom, which he claimed as his own because he wanted no distractions from his studies.
Liam sat on the third floor landing where he could observe the door, stairs, and living room from behind the wrought iron rails of the balcony.
If that bimbette on his arm doesn’t qualify as a distraction, I’m not sure what does.
Then Liam noticed Milo had a distraction of his own. A curvy blonde with big hair and not too many clothes sat on the couch next to Milo. Liam watched as Milo fondled her breasts without much interest. He would bet that he wasn’t even hard. Liam let out a sigh.
Milo shouted from the room below. “Liam, get the fuck into your room and go to sleep. I may live here, but have enough common decency to give me some privacy.”
Liam skulked back into his room, pulled the pillow over his head, and for the second time that day lost it. However, this time Milo didn’t hear him over the moans of the slut downstairs.
Milo spent their first evening alone in the house banging her into the floorboards under the living room rug.
* * * *
1997
With Liam’s eighteenth birthday two months away, the situation at the house deteriorated. It became too small for four men and everyone chafed at the lack of privacy. As their fame grew, the once-quiet house became a tourist attraction. Liam finally had enough.
One morning, as Milo shoved yet another one of his bimbettes out the door before heading to the kitchen, Liam stomped down the stairs. “Milo,” he shouted from the stairs, “this is my house, right?” Liam entered the kitchen, his body taunt with tension, his face red.
Not knowing what had him upset, Milo nodded in assent.
“If this really is my house, I want to sell it and move into a condominium by myself. I feel like I’m running a whorehouse in Vegas. I’m no longer comfortable in my own home.”
“Calm down, Liam. Us guys are entitled to a little recreation.”
“Then how come I’m not one of the guys? The last time I brought a guy I met home, you swarmed all over us like flies on shit. I’m seventeen; I’ll be eighteen in two months. I want out of this fucking gilded cage.”
“I promised your mother I would take care of you until your eighteenth birthday. Then you can do whatever the fuck you want. But until then, you live by my rules.”
“Well, you better start looking for real estate, because on my eighteenth birthday I’m outta here, even if I have to sleep in the park!” Liam stormed out the door, got into the Miata he received for his seventeenth birthday, and took off down the street.
Rick and Sam entered the kitchen. Both men looked at Milo warily.
“Looks like you screwed the pooch once too often,” Rick told Milo. “I warned you he was at the breaking point. You can’t be his confidant, friend, and almost lover during the day, and then bring a broad home at night and screw her until she screams. These walls are thin, man. He hears everything. He won’t go to sleep until he knows you’re home, either.”
“I hate to admit it,” Sam said, “but my brother’s right. You are too jealous to let him have a relationship of his own, yet you flaunt yours in his face.”
“What relationships do I have? I’ve never slept with the same woman twice since he turned sixteen. I spend almost all my spare time with him. We rehearse together, we eat together, we hang out together. The only thing I don’t do is sleep with him. Damn it, you know I can’t do that for another two months.”
“If you really want him,” Rick said as he made his coffee, “start courting him and stop bringing home the bimbos. You should have enough strength of character to last for two months without sex. God knows the kid hasn’t even been able to cop a feel since he hit sixteen. That’s down right unnatural.”
Sam poured himself a cup of coffee. “Going to look for a new house might be a good idea. I suggest we look in Rumson. We can afford it, and they handle celebrities well over there. At least women won’t show up at the front door swinging their panties in his face.”
Sam poured some cream into his coffee. “You have a tendency to procrastinate, Milo. You haven’t started auditioning drummers, and you know I’m leaving in January. You’ve let Liam drift without ever telling him how much he means to you. You’re still in the fucking closet, for Christ’s sake, and your father’s been dead for a year and your mother’s in Florida and wouldn’t care if you were a eunuch as long as you keep on sending her support checks. Get your ducks in order, or the band’s going to lose its singer, and you’ll lose far more than that.”
“Yes, damn it, I’ve been saving him for myself. I’ve waited two years so I can do the right thing by him. I gave Lily my word to take care of him, and that means waiting until he’s legal.” Milo brought his fist down on the scarred oak table. “I refuse to lose him. I’m going to tell him everything tonight. It’ll sure as hell make the next eight weeks go easier. As for you two, don’t come home tonight. Sam, if you really need to study, go to your mother’s. Rick, you always have somewhere to go. Don’t come home piss drunk, go get a room.”
Milo stalked upstairs, looking back once to see the Stein brothers grinning at each other.
* * * *
When Liam returned home that night, he found Milo waiting in the living room with an open bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. Liam looked at him quizzically. Milo never kept liquor in the house.
“Hi, baby,” Milo said softly. “Come sit with me.” Milo patted the open cushion on the couch beside him. Liam sat, warily facing Milo.
“What’s that for?” Liam asked with suspicion.
“It is a bottle of 1985 E. Guigal Cote Rotie La Mouline, a Bordeaux from France. It’s a peace offering of sorts. I’ve got to tell you some things. Please don’t interrupt me, I have difficulty talking about my emotions as it is.”
“Okay,” Liam said as he fiddled with the button on his shirt. He looked down and to the side, not wishing to meet Milo’s eyes. He prepared himself for news he knew he didn’t want to hear.
“Please look at me, baby,” Milo asked in a gentle voice. He put his hand lightly on Liam’s right shoulder. “The last two years have been the most difficult of my life.” Milo watched as Liam’s eyes filled with tears.
Liam wiped his sleeve across his face and stared at the man he loved so fiercely. “You don’t have to take care of me anymore. In two months I’ll be eighteen and out of your hair forever, if that’s what you want.”
The twin furrows appeared across Milo’s brow, and he began to bite his lip. Feeling nauseous, Liam stood and clenched his fists. Milo grabbed his hand and pulled him back down to the couch so close that their thighs met.
“Baby, please sit next to me.” Milo poured a little wine into the two glasses. “Fine wine is meant to be savored. The longer it stays in the cellar, if it was a good year and the rains came, and the sun shone on the grapes, it ages and becomes better over time. Then it reaches a peak. The sommelier uses his wisdom and experience to determine the moment when the wine reaches perfection, when it has to come out of the cellar to be savored for all of its taste, texture, and bouquet.”
Liam settled, relaxing into Milo’s side, soothed by his melodious tone of voice.
* * * *
Milo pulled Liam onto his lap, gently stroking his hair and arm. He could see the length of Liam’s erection through the tight jeans he wore. “Baby, you are my fine wine. I started falling for you through your music when you joined the band at twelve.”
Liam tried to say something, but Milo placed his finger on his beautiful lips. “Quiet, baby, let me finish. I knew there would never be anyone else for me the day after we buried Lily and I held you in the bathroom. I haven’t permitted myself to go near you since.”
Milo saw Liam’s face come alive with emotion.
“You had to know how I felt about you,” Liam said. “The whole fucking world knows how I feel about you!” Liam made to pull away.
Milo kissed him reverently, almost chastely, but with a hint of all of what he reined in. “I promised your mother, baby. I promised Lily I would do the right thing by you, and the right thing does not include seducing an underage boy who might feel like he has to perform to continue to maintain a roof over his head.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
Milo gripped him fiercely. “Because I’m afraid you’ll bring someone home, or go to someone else. I’ve lived in fear of you finding either a guy or a girl for years. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to tell you why I’m waiting, why I still have to wait until you’re eighteen.”
“You didn’t have a thing to worry about. I’ve loved you since I first saw you. There will never be anyone else for me. It’s you, and always will be.” Liam laughed through the tears of happiness coursing down his cheeks.
“I’m gay,” Milo said. “I’ve known that since just before I met you, but I’ve never fucked a guy. I’ve been waiting for you it seems like forever. On your eighteenth birthday, I’m going to make love to you, hard, passionate, then slow and sweet. In the meantime, we’ll do some old-fashioned courting.”
Something broke inside Milo. He frantically trailed his mouth over Liam’s skin, his lips pushing aside the fabric of his shirt and his tongue licking along Liam’s collarbone to the hollow of his throat, just below his prominent Adam’s apple. Milo’s tongue moved in slow circles down Liam’s smooth chest as he unbuttoned his shirt. His hands caressed Liam’s skin, eyes watching Liam’s reaction to his touch.
Rose nubs pushed up from the flat of Liam’s pectorals, begging for Milo’s mouth. They didn’t have to beg long. Milo’s long fingers rubbed and pinched while his tongue laved in concentric circles, teasing. He pulled with his teeth, lightly, then with more bite. Milo pushed against his lover. The denim outline of Liam’s cock strained hard against his soft blue jeans.
When Milo felt Liam shake, he closed his eyes, and tightened his arms around his lover. Liam completely surrendered himself to Milo’s hands and mouth. Milo thrust against Liam, feeling Liam’s long, slender cock moving against his groin.
Liam matched his fervor. His hands grasped for the hem of Milo’s shirt, reaching for skin. They ground against one another, each feeling the urgency of passion long denied. Liam began to shudder, calling Milo’s name. Hearing his name on his baby’s lips while in the throng of orgasm sent Milo over the edge too.
“My God, I can’t believe you did that to me without so much as a finger on my cock. I shouldn’t have let it go so far, but baby, I couldn’t stand by and let someone else have you. Can you wait for your birthday, baby? Can you wait? Because I promised Lily.”
“I can wait forever as long as I know you want me.”
They lay quietly in each other’s arms. Milo finally spoke. “Liam, you know that your age isn’t our only concern, don’t you?”
“The guys? Any fool who looks my way knows I’m gay. The guys know.”
“I’m more concerned about the fans who think we’re het.”
“The fans know about me already.”
“No, they think you’re young and flamboyant and that I’m het. I’ve been banging girls for years to keep from touching you. We have to stay in the closet until the time is right.”
Liam looked at him. “When will the time be right?”
“When the band’s position is so secure that nothing matters but the music.”
“How long?” Liam asked, running his hand down Milo’s arm.
Milo answered cryptically. “The better we get, the sooner we’ll be free. In the meantime, let’s start looking for your birthday present.”
“And what would that be?”
“A house in Rumson, large enough to include a small recording studio with enough property to insure privacy for us, plus enough land for me to plant the garden I’ve always wanted.” Milo pulled Liam into a sitting position. “Let me clean you up, love.”
He settled Liam back onto the couch and covered him with a throw. Bounding up the stairs, he opened the door to Liam’s bedroom and grabbed two pairs of plaid flannel drawstring pants, one for himself and one for Liam. When he returned to Liam, he carried a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a soft towel. Lovingly, he slid Liam’s jeans down his legs, handing him the warm cloth.
“In two months, baby,” Milo said, “I’m going to be the one to clean you up while I worship your gorgeous body. For tonight, I still have a promise to keep.” Liam took the cloth and the flannel pants and made quick work of the change and the cleanup.
“Come on,” Milo encouraged. “Tonight we began your education in the art of wine appreciation, and maybe I can stretch my principles enough so that we can sleep together tonight.” They sat and drank the excellent Bordeaux Milo chose. It was a ritual he intended to repeat. Milo felt the tension melt from Liam’s body as he sipped at the half-glass of wine Milo allowed him.
* * * *
“Are you going to kiss me?” Liam asked as he settled back into Milo’s arms, his hands reaching around to touch his beloved’s face. He traced it with his fingers, learning the planes of his cheeks and the angle of his chin. Liam began to place gentle kisses down Milo’s jaw line until he met the collar of his T-shirt. “I love the stubble on your face, the smell and color of your skin, and the way your hair curls around my fingers.”
“Slow down, baby. I can’t take you tonight, but let me feel your body rest on top of mine,” Milo replied, his voice husky. “Oh God, I’ve waited so long.”
Milo’s hand moved over Liam’s shoulders and back, feeling the contours of his body through his clothing. “Let’s sleep here tonight,” Milo whispered. “If we go to bed, I won’t be able to control myself.” His tongue traced the outline of Liam’s soft lips. Then he kissed him with all the pent-up passion he’d carried for so long.
Milo held his Liam in his arms and the world was suddenly right. His right arm held his Liam closer as his left hand drew circles on his back. As he knew it would, the soothing motion of his caress sent his emotionally spent, soon-to-be lover into a deep sleep.
Milo held Liam through the night, wondering if he’d been fair by not allowing Liam to date others. But as he watched his love and held him close, he knew deep inside that this was where he should be.
He whispered into Liam’s ear, “No one will ever love you as much as I do, baby. This I swear.”
* * * *
Rick swung his Jag into Murphy’s parking lot that night with the intent of scoring some weed. He swaggered into the bar and looked around.
“Hi, Mickey,” he greeted the bartender. “Have you seen Bart?” Bart Hedge acted as Rick’s dealer and latest best friend.
“Back in the pool room,” Mickey answered.
“Pour me two fingers of Maker’s Mark and one of whatever Bart’s drinking tonight and put it down at the end of the bar,” Rick said as he threw a fifty at Mickey. He sauntered down the long bar, stopping to chat with the regulars, savoring his fame.
Walking into the pool room, he saw Bart in the corner. “Hey man, how the hell are you? No gig tonight?”
“Nah, Lucky’s got some newly-signed wannabees playing tonight, so they gave us the night off. How’d you know I’d be here?”
“Figured I’d stop in for a couple of short ones, then head down to Lucky’s to catch their act. The boys are busy at the house tonight, so I’m out with no plans.”
“What about Sam?”
“He’s doing what he usually does when we’re not rehearsing or on a gig; hitting the books. Shit, we’re on our way up with a major label, and that fool brother of mine still wants to be a lawyer. We’ll be looking for a drummer soon. You should audition. You’re good, man.”
“You think?”
“Sure, I’ll put a word in for you.”
“Thanks, man. It would be great playing together.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to get my weed local, either.” Rick laughed. “Come on, I got us set up at the end of the bar.” Bart followed Rick from the pool room.
As Rick finished the second round, Bart asked, “You want to go clubbing tonight or what?”
“Sure, but I’m buzzed, man. I can’t drive,” Rick said, reeling from the effect of the bourbon.
“I’ll drive. I’ve got some blow that will make you sail.”
“You know I don’t do the hard stuff.”
“Look, once won’t addict you, and I have some X for the clubs,” Bart encouraged as they got into his truck.
“Ah, what the fuck. I’ll give it a try, but only once, man. Milo would be all over my ass if he thought I was using.” Bart laid out the white powder on the cover of a magazine and handed Rick a bar straw.
“From what you said, the man in charge is going to be too busy tonight with the kid to notice what you’re up to.”
Twenty minutes later, they pulled out of Murphy’s to hit the Shore hot spots. Rick felt like he stood on top of the world.
“Man, this is going to be one hell of a night!” he said to Bart.
* * * *
Rick staggered in the next morning while Milo showered. Liam made coffee and toasted some bagels.
“Hey, hot shot,” he said to Liam. “Give me one of those will you? I’m starved.”
“You don’t look starved. I’d say you looked like one of the undead. What the hell did you do last night? You don’t have long to straighten up. Milo’s in the shower.”
“I’m a fucking big boy. Milo has no say over what I do.”
“Tell him that,” Liam said in an undertone as he caught Milo descending the stairs out of the corner of his eye.
* * * *
Milo walked into the kitchen, wearing his boxers and a smile. The smile faded as he saw Rick poured into a kitchen chair. “Man, what did you do last night? You can’t have gotten into that kind of shape on Jim Beam.”
“It didn’t drink Beam. I did Maker’s Mark, and good morning to you, too. I’ll have you know I conducted band business last night,” Rick answered Milo a bit smugly.
Milo walked to the counter, gave Liam a kiss on the nape of his neck and pulled him into his arms. “Is there coffee, baby?”
“Coffee and another bagel, tea for me,” Liam answered.
Rick raised an eyebrow as Milo nuzzled Liam’s neck. “I gather you two spoke to one another last night?”
“Yes, we did,” Milo answered. His inflection made it clear that there was nothing more to be said. “So what band business did you discuss last night while guzzling your bourbon?”
* * * *
Rick hesitated. He knew how Milo felt about drugs and about putting Liam anywhere near dealers or users. With Sam wrapped up in his studies, and it looking as if these two would be wrapped around each other, Rick felt it only right he had some company.
Hell, I’m entitled to a life too, and Bart’s my friend. “I found us a new drummer. He’s been with the house band at Lucky’s for years. I know him; he’s a pretty good guy.”
“You didn’t promise him anything, did you?” Milo asked.
“Nothing but a shot at an audition when the time comes. I think I have enough credit here to promise him that. As far as the rest, he’ll have to make the cut on his own.”
“Guess that means I’d better get off my ass and set up audition dates,” Milo said. “We’re going to need Sam’s help with the transition. Damn it, I hate that Sam’s leaving. I never really believed he would.”
“Geez,” Liam said, “he’s been talking about going into law for as long as I can remember. It’s what he wants.”
“Listen to the kid for once,” Rick said. “He’s right. Sam wants this, and if he doesn’t give it a shot, he’ll always regret it. It’s not like he can’t come back if he wants. Nobody, not even a close friend like Bart, can take my brother’s place in our hearts.”
“I don’t know,” Milo said. “It seems wrong, somehow. Gives me the shivers thinking about it.”
“We’ll all get used to it,” Liam said in an obvious attempt to placate.
* * * *
Rick said, “I’ll go call him.” He left the room.
Once he was gone, Liam hopped onto Milo’s lap, licked his ear and neck, and asked in a small voice, “Milo, can we have kittens?”
Milo laughed as Liam settled back into his arms. This is how it should be. His arms encircled Liam and brought him closer so he could breathe in his baby’s smell and revel in their closeness. A few minutes passed, and Milo sighed. “Up and at ‘em, Liam. We have houses and kittens to scout.”
“Can we get a house on the water? It doesn’t matter if it’s the river or the ocean. I love the beach.”
“I know you do. Anything you want, baby.”
* * * *
Bart hung up the phone and smiled. “I knew Rick would come through for me. I can cut it on the drums, and with all things being equal, being a friend of the bass player gives me an edge.”
The guy Bart had tied to the bed tracked him carefully with his eyes. The phone call seemed to put Bart into a very good mood, which meant he’d give him a hard fuck.
Bob hadn’t met Bart through his usual bar friends. Bart appealed to him because he played on the razor’s edge of dangerous. Bart walked over to the bed, speaking softly.
“Settle yourself, honey. I haven’t decided yet whether I want to fuck you raw or ram my cock down your throat. I’m feeling real good and ready to give it to you good. You know, pet, if you have enough patience, all things come. I’m going to take it all away from him, strip it off, one thing at a time and when he has nothing left, I’ll take his life.”
Bob hoped Bart would hurry up and get to fucking, because sometimes his lover went over the edge of creepy.