Los Angeles
August 29, 2005
HIS CELL phone rang and danced across the nightstand. Matt reached out and slapped it, but it still rang. Groaning, he pushed the covers off his head, picked up the phone, and squinted at it.
His boss, Richard Mansfield, editor-in-chief of the small indie paper he worked for. Crap. What now?
He flipped it open. “Yeah, Matt here.” He sat up on the side of the bed and scratched his chest. “What time is it?”
“It’s 5:00 a.m. You’re from New Orleans, right?”
“Uh-huh.” What did that have to do with anything?
“Get up and get your ass in gear. You’re booked on a flight to Houston in two hours. From there you’re connecting with a National Guard unit. It’s the only way we could get you into the city.”
“Into Houston?” What was Richard talking about? This time the man had gone insane. Too much of that designer coffee he drank, for sure.
“No. Wake up, Matt! Haven’t you been following the hurricane?”
“Katrina? Yeah, so what? Just another storm.” He shrugged.
“Matt, the levees broke early this morning. The city’s flooding. Most of it’s under water.”
“Shit!” Matt stood and looked around for his jeans. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I just did. Look, you’re our man-on-the-ground. Get your ass to Houston, Matt. Then hook up with the convoy heading from there to the city. You’ve got connections there, right?”
Matt thought about the only connection he gave a damn about, and he’d severed that one five years ago in the most colossal fuck-up of his life.
“Yeah.” It wasn’t exactly a lie; he knew people… or he had a few years ago. Matt knew a story like this didn’t come along but once in a lifetime. Still, it hadn’t been the story that got his adrenaline going; it was the thought of Lane, the only man he’d ever loved, trapped in the floodwaters.
Louisiana
Somewhere on I-10
August 30, 2005
“IS LANE there, Mom?” Matt shouted into the cell phone as the National Guard truck he rode shotgun in rumbled down the I-10 interstate. They’d made the outskirts of Baton Rouge, and he could see the huge bridge that crossed the Mississippi River up ahead. Next to him, his camera bag jostled his arm as he shifted in his seat.
“No, Matt. He stayed behind. He didn’t want to leave Sebastian.”
Sebastian? Matt’s brain fogged over and his heart thudded, then stopped. Lane had someone. Sebastian. Definitely a gay name. Probably some guy who owned an antique shop in the Quarter, or an interior designer.
What a fool he’d look, rushing in to save Lanie.
“They’re in the Quarter. On St. Phillip and Burgundy.”
Of course they are.
Matt didn’t know what to say. His mind spun in a thousand directions, and all of them led back to the same place—Lane.
Another voice came on the phone. “Matt? Good to hear from you, son. Where are you?” It was his dad, or the man he’d called Dad since he was a teenager.
“Hey, Dad. I’m in Baton Rouge, heading into the city with the National Guard. My paper sent me to cover the flood. Mom says Lane stayed behind.”
“Hold on.” There was a pause. “Sorry, had to wait for her to leave. I don’t want to upset her.”
“Why?” Matt’s stomach tightened into a hard ball. He knew that serious tone in his dad’s voice.
“We haven’t heard from Lane in two days. Power’s out in the city, and there have been riots and looting. We think the Quarter is pretty dry, but the rest of the city is under water.”
“I’m sure he’s fine. He’ll contact you when the phone lines clear.”
“You’re right, Matt.”
“Sure.” Matt stared at the bridge growing closer. Once they crossed it, New Orleans would be about an hour or so away.
“Matt, find our boy. He needs you.” His dad’s voice faded. “You shouldn’t have left him, Mattie.” A tinge of anger painted Dad’s voice, and Matt winced.
“I know.” Matt leaned his head against the side of the truck.
“You broke his heart, Matt.”
“What?” Matt sat up and stared at the phone, then put it back to his ear.
“I always thought you two would be together. I know it’s none of my business, but was I wrong to think you were in love?”
Matt choked. He’d known Lane had come out in college, but he’d no idea their dad knew he was gay also. “You knew I was gay?”
A soft chuckle, then a sigh. “Son, I’ve known it since you were a teen. And about Lane too.”
“And you still let me stay in your house?” Matt ran his hand through his hair, then touched the window. He couldn’t quite believe how wonderful the people who’d taken him into their home, like a second son, had been to him, but it shouldn’t have surprised him. Their dad had always been sharp and one step ahead of them.
“You needed help. And I think I’m a pretty good judge of character.”
“Thank you.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what Lane told you, but it was all my fault. I screwed up, not Lane. He was—” Fantastic. Wonderful. Everything he’d ever dreamed of. “—the best friend anyone could ever have. I didn’t deserve him.”
“Nonsense. You and Lane were perfect together.”
Matt didn’t know what to say. They had been perfect. As friends. “Lane didn’t want me that way. As more than a friend.” He shook his head.
“Did he tell you that?”
“He didn’t have to. I knew what he thought about me.”
“Really? When did he tell you he’d been in love with you since you guys were teens?”
Matt swallowed his spit and choked. Dad had to be out of his mind. Or the connection was bad and they’d crossed lines or something.
“Matt, do you love Lane?”
He sighed. Here it was—the big question. Could he finally say it? And if he did, shouldn’t he say it to Lane? But that chance had passed years ago.
“I’ll find him, Dad. Tell Mom not to worry. My press credentials will get me into the city, and I’ll make a beeline to the Quarter. I’ll contact you as soon as I find him, okay?”
“Okay. Take care of yourself. Be careful. It’s a volatile situation there. The police are nonexistent, and people are desperate.”
Matt said good-bye and closed his phone. He leaned back in the seat, not seeing most of Baton Rouge sliding past his window. The exit for College Drive went by, and in a heartbeat he was back at school, in the rooms they’d shared, making love to Lane on Lane’s bed.
To everyone around him, Matt had played the part of the “hot” guy. He’d had guys throwing themselves at him, when the only man he’d ever wanted, and could never have, lived in the same apartment as he did and slept just ten feet away.
He’d loved Lane from the time he was fifteen and realized he was gay. He’d taken a huge chance that time in the clubhouse, jerking off and letting Lane catch him. He’d played it out in his imagination for weeks before he did it. In one fantasy, Lane would find him jerking off and he’d get so turned on, he’d join him and they’d jerk off together. In another, Lane would take over and jerk him off. In his favorite, Lane would kiss him, tell him he didn’t care that Matt’s father was a drunk or that he was poor white trash, and say none of that mattered.
None of that had happened. Lane hadn’t exactly turned away in disgust, but at least he’d understood. Matt knew how lucky he’d been not to lose his best friend over that stunt and admitting he was gay.
Matt couldn’t believe it when Lane had told him he was gay too. At first, all Matt could think of was the wasted time, and it pissed him off. Then he realized Lane knew he was gay, and if he’d wanted Matt, he would have said or done something.
But he never did. Never.
And why would he? Lane thought Matt was a slut. At least that’s what Matt let everyone believe. It was easier that way, to pretend Lane not wanting him didn’t matter. Sure, he’d had sex with a lot of guys, but he’d never gone all the way.
He’d saved himself for Lane.