by Rachel Kane
“Damn it, Ian!” he called out into the empty store.
26
Judah
Sometimes when part of your life feels false, the other part will feel more vivid, more real, as though taking on an extra reality to help cope with the shadow-half where you are a mere spectator to the events going on around you.
Then again, as Judah was realizing, sometimes both halves of your life feel false.
Alex’s words were crystal-clear in his head: I have to be sure that me getting closer to you, isn’t just a reaction…
How could he not be sure? Didn’t he know what he felt? Judah certainly did, he could feel his heart pounding against his chest, whether in excitement or terror, he couldn’t tell which. The mere thought of Alex was enough to bring warmth to his cheeks, to the back of his hand, the hand that had so recently stroked Alex’s long, lean sides.
Yet all of it, all this realness, might be nothing more than a rebound. What Judah felt might be emotions in response to a shadow. Alex might feel nothing, really, deep down, nothing more than a momentary hunger, more of a grudge than an emotion, just something to cleanse the palate after Ian.
In recompense, Judah’s working life should have been more real, and yet it was not. All the color seemed to have drained from Superbia Springs. The guests were uninteresting ciphers, needier than the toddler already living under this roof. It wasn’t just the towels. There was room service to coordinate, and walking tours of the property, and the spring-house itself, where the tubs were filled with self-satisfied people sighing happily while staff brought them flutes of champagne.
Everything was different now, and there was no room for him. Not him. Just the role he played, friendly, helpful. If ever there were a need to help without listening, he’d found it. He couldn’t bear their voices. Could you bring just a little more brie? I’m afraid I’ve spilled wine on the carpet. Yes ma’am. Yes sir. Right away.
This was not the life he had hoped for, nor the one he’d imagined when he had promised to help Liam open the resort. Carrying a tray upstairs, brandy and glasses shuddering and tinkling as the old elevator lifted him up.
If only there were a way to escape. Alex should have been that escape, but this news that he wanted to take things slowly… Well, Judah still couldn’t understand. It was like eating dessert slowly. Or reading a good book slowly. Who would do that? You devoured what you loved, that was how you expressed your love.
Who said anything about love?
That was the point, after all, wasn’t it? Alex wasn’t positive if he felt anything for Judah, or if this was just a head-clearing fling. Something even shallower than friends with benefits.
The elevator door scraped open, and he stepped into the hall. His path took him past Alex’s empty room, and he paused.
How could he feel this bad, when nothing really wrong had happened?
No, that wasn’t the right question. The real question was, how could you want someone this much, and not be allowed to have them? How could he want Alex with every fiber of his being, to the point that he couldn’t even pass by his room without the longing bringing him to a halt, and yet there was nothing truly between them, nothing he could show, nothing he could talk about? Because taking it slowly also meant he couldn’t tell Liam or Noah. The biggest news ever in his life, and he had to keep it a secret. It made the longing that much worse, that he couldn’t share it with anyone. It turned it into a gnawing hunger at the core of him. If Alex were here right now, he would tear the man’s clothes off, push him to the floor, and fuck him right here in this hall.
Judah blushed to even think of it. What was happening to him? He quickly padded down the silent hall and delivered the brandy to a man who slipped him ten dollars as a tip.
What am I going to do with this?
What am I going to do with anything?
“A store,” said Judah. “He’s going to open a store for you.”
It was Judah’s turn at the night shift, and things were silent. For once, the guests didn’t need anything from him. The phone wasn’t lighting up with messages, the computer wasn’t breaking, and he had been sitting here at the desk, reading his book, when the front door had opened and Alex had come in. The moment Alex realized they were alone, he had given Judah a long kiss, yet a kiss that seemed somehow shy.
He’d pulled up a chair, and Alex had sunken into it with a sigh and a wince, glaring down at his cast.
“Is there anything to eat?” Alex asked. “I’m starved. I’ve had nothing to eat but aspirin, and it’s destroying my stomach.”
“Sure, but first, what’s this about a store?”
“It’s just Ian being Ian. Solving the world’s problems, one ex-boyfriend at a time.”
“So he’s joking.” Tension coiled deep inside Judah’s belly. He found that he was quite tired of hearing about Ian and his exploits. This wasn’t jealousy, at least not in the way it was normally thought of. It was something else. An anger at every moment Alex was kept away from him, at every thought that would intrude between them.
“That’s the thing,” Alex said. “I don’t think he is. What about a grilled cheese? Could I get something that simple? I could make it myself—”
“Xander would kill us if we let a guest make food in the kitchen.”
“I’m hardly a guest, Judah.”
But what are you, exactly? And why won’t you stay on the subject? Judah tapped the buttons on the phone that would send any guest’s calls to his cell, and then rose. “Come on, let’s see what’s on the menu.”
The kitchen was closed, and thus quiet, the only time of day it was ever quiet anymore. He gestured Alex towards a stool, then got down the butter and bread.
“What kind of cheese?” he asked.
“Um…what kind do you have?” Alex asked in return. “Do you have American? The little slices?”
Judah shook his head. “Xander says it’s not real cheese, it’s just extruded protein product.”
“Extruded protein product sounds like a euphemism for cum.”
His laughter caught him off-guard. It was so unexpected that he nearly dropped the bread. Why was it so funny to him? His eyes were squinting shut. Why couldn’t every moment of his life be like this? He felt like he was doing something naughty, something that would get him in trouble, trespassing on Chef Xander’s territory.
It was the same way he’d felt when he’d discovered the lions.
How he’d felt the first time Alex had kissed him.
That thought sobered him a bit. What would it feel like, if their relationship wasn’t trespassing? If it was real, just a fact of life, the way Liam and Mason’s relationship was?
“What about a Gruyere?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s very rich, very creamy.”
“Which brings us back to cum again.”
“Listen, do you want me to make this sandwich, or just jack off on a slice of bread for you?”
“I mean, I’d eat it, but…”
Judah had tears in his eyes by this point, giggling. He heated the pan, pulled down the bowl of caramelized onions Xander had stored in the fridge, melted butter, and shredded the Gruyere, along with a little cheddar just for familiarity’s sake. The bread sizzled in the pan, and where the cheese melted past the crust, it dripped down, hissed and browned against the iron pan. The whole kitchen was beginning to smell incredible, and he decided to make one for himself as well.
He set out their plates and napkins, and now that the grilling was done, the kitchen was quiet again; the plates made an audible click when he put them on the table.
“This is fantastic. It’s like being a sneaky gourmet,” said Alex. “Although I should tell you, my mother would cut off the crusts for me.”
“You’re a grown man,” said Judah. “Eat the crusts.”
“She’d also slice them diagonally.”
“I mean, I can take the sandwich back…”
“She’d also press do
wn on them while they were frying, she’d mash them with her spatula—”
Judah playfully reached for Alex’s plate, and laughed when Alex pulled the plate closer.
They sank into silent eating for a moment, but eventually, reality closed back in on Judah, and he had to ask: “About Ian’s offer…”
“Don’t give it a second thought.”
“So he was joking. Or playing. Or…”
“Or whatever. I mean, I think he was entirely serious. Ian doesn’t offer things frivolously. I’m sure he thought it through. I’m even sure he talked it over with Bastian, which would explain why the man looks like he wants to murder me in my sleep.”
“But you’re not doing it.”
Alex blinked. “Moving? Uprooting myself? Why would I do that?”
One of the problems of geekdom—nourished by years and years of reading science fiction scenarios—was that it came with an irresistible urge to play devil’s advocate.
“Because nobody in Superbia reads?” Judah suggested. “Because staying here too long turns you into someone else. You might wind up like Thaddeus Mulgrew, all twisted and weird in the head, obsessed with the gossipy history of the place. You’re smart, you’re well-read, you’re cultured.”
He could hardly believe what he was saying.
“Cultured?” Alex said, lifting his sandwich. “I didn’t even know what Gruyere was until just this moment.”
“Ian has a point. You’re too good for this town.”
“Says the man who lives in a giant mansion.”
“This isn’t mine,” said Judah, and the force with which he said it startled him…as did the truth of what he’d said. This was Liam’s dream, not his own. The only times he felt like he belonged, were moments like this, moments where nobody from the outside world was around.
“Well, you don’t have to worry,” said Alex. “Bastian would never let him open a shop for me. Honestly, it’s weird he even offered. Like, would you do something like that for an ex?”
“I’ve never had one,” Judah said.
“Yes, but if you did. Would you be like, here, let me set you up with a new career, right in front of your current boyfriend?”
“How many opportunities do you get, to have a new life?” Judah said.
“What’s wrong with my current life?” A note of defensiveness had entered Alex’s voice.
For one thing, you can’t seem to extract yourself from your ex’s schemes. He couldn’t say that, of course, it would sound oddly bitter coming from his mouth.
“I’m just saying, maybe you could get to run the kind of store you always wanted. You wouldn’t have to have Violet Mulgrew as a landlady anymore. You could have a ton of customers. More than just me and Mrs. Fortune, anyway.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were telling me to take Ian up on his offer.”
Judah shook his head. “No, that’s not it. I just…” I’d feel guilty if you turned him down because of me. Another thing he couldn’t say. You told me we were going to take it really slowly, but what if doing that means you miss out on a huge chance for a better life?
The silence hung between them a moment, and what Judah needed right then was some kind of comfort, although what shape that might take, he didn’t know. A hug? A kiss? A promise?
Alex glanced around the room as though to look for eavesdroppers. “Do you want to come upstairs with me?”
“I’m on night shift, I have to man the desk.”
“You could take your phone with you.”
“But what if someone comes in?”
Alex stared at him a second, then nodded. “All right. See you tomorrow, then?”
27
Alex
Alex was not expecting the onslaught, and so when it came, he was totally unprepared.
In fact, his mind was occupied this morning with thoughts of Judah, the strained conversation of last night. Judah was so difficult to read. Was he really saying Alex should let Ian open him a store somewhere else? Surely not. And yet he kept pressing for it, as though it were a good idea.
Maybe it was Judah’s polite, indirect way of saying he was over this friendship.
Stop, you’re reading too much into things. You were both tired after a long day of work, and he had hours of work left to do. He made you the best grilled cheese you ever had! He’s not over you.
Alex hoped not. He’d felt a little crushed when Judah hadn’t come up to his room, because it had been the treat he had been looking forward to, a way to lose himself in the excitement and pleasure of Judah’s body. He’d wanted Judah to fuck every thought of Ian and Bastian right out of him. Instead he’d gone to bed chastely, all alone under the enormous duvet, covers pulled up over his chin.
He’d never wanted anyone like this before, and yet every moment he had to caution himself, because he didn’t want to hurt Judah. That was the thing he feared most. Getting Judah absolutely hooked…and then realizing it had all been the rebound.
That would be awful. It would be manipulative and wrong.
Judah couldn’t seem to understand that. Or maybe he did. Maybe that’s what last night was, Judah giving Alex the space and time he needed…on a night when Alex wanted neither.
He was so caught up in these thoughts, between worrying over what was happening between the two of them, and imagining what could happen between them, that he didn’t realize someone had come into the store at first, but his attention was quickly snapped back to reality as he realized Violet Mulgrew was here, her low heels clicking across the floor. She snatched a book off the Problematic Faves display and slapped it onto the counter, glaring at him.
The same book that Tim had been reading yesterday.
Oh hell.
“I told you I didn’t want you selling homosexual filth in this store, and what do you do, but offer it to an impressionable young boy!”
It felt like every drop of his blood had fled from his hands and his face, leaving him tingling in a sort of blind panic. “Violet, listen—”
“That’s Mrs. Mulgrew to you, thank you very much, Mr. Roth. I can see I’ve been far too lenient with you, allowing you to turn my building into a house of debauchery.”
He knew that there was no better way to cause an explosion, than to try to defend himself right away. “Why don’t you explain what you’re talking about?” he said, hoping that would deflect some of her anger.
“Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what you did, giving this garbage to Harry Norris’ son. What were you trying to do? Entice him into a life of sin? Harry is furious. Furious. He called me about it this morning, and I was aghast when I heard.”
How did Harry even hear about it? He knew better than to ask. It was Superbia’s smallness all over again.
“Mrs. Mulgrew, I run a bookstore, not a church. These books around us, they represent all kinds of viewpoints, all kinds of lives.”
“I have been very tolerant of your lifestyle. I do not approve of it, and the lord knows I pray for all of you sinners every day. Have I thrown you out? Have I shown you the least bit of discrimination? And yet this is how you repay my generosity, by trying to turn a straight young boy into a homosexual!”
“First off,” Alex said, “Tim isn’t a young boy. He’s a young man, and he’s old enough to choose what he wants to read, without anybody holding his hand. Second, that’s not how being gay works, nobody gets converted to it, any more than they can be converted away from it. It’s absolutely none of my business what Tim Norris’ orientation is. Whether he’s straight or gay or bi makes no difference to me. He was looking for a book, and I run a bookstore.”
“Not for long, if I have anything to say about it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I can’t be expected to subsidize lechery in my buildings! It’s bad enough that those Cooper boys have turned that glorious mansion into a gay brothel. I won’t have a homosexual bookstore in my town! Not while my name is on the deed!”
Alex found himself short of breath with the way his day had gone from zero to one-hundred. He was going to say something harsh, something angry, something he’d come to regret, if he didn’t get his reaction under control.
“Mrs. Mulgrew,” he said quietly, “if Harry Norris has a problem with what his son is reading, then that’s between them. It’s not my business, and it is certainly not your business.”
With so much ice in her voice that the windows might have frosted over, she said, “Everything that happens in this town is my business. It is my town. We are the founding family of Superbia. These buildings belong to me. These roads belong to me.”
“Tim Norris doesn’t belong to you. I don’t belong to you. Now listen. I know your views. God knows, everyone in town does. But you and I have a legally binding agreement. I signed a lease. This building might belong to you, but you’re stuck with me. I suggest we table this issue for now. I’m not going to fight with you over how I conduct my business.”
“You believe this book is appropriate for children,” she said, jabbing a finger at the cover.
“I believe it’s appropriate for high-schoolers, certainly.”
“Then I think there is nothing else to say.” She clutched her burgundy purse. “If you insist on selling dangerous propaganda to Superbia’s children, then Superbia must regard you as a danger.”
“Now, come on…”
“That lease was written by me and my lawyer. I’ve been doing this a long time, Mr. Roth. I know how to get rid of troublesome tenants.”
The full import of what she said took a moment to sink in. It felt like swallowing a tennis ball, the way it stuck in his chest.
“Are you telling me you’re kicking me out?”
“I charged you far, far less than this space is worth,” she said, “because I thought having a charming little bookstore would add to Superbia’s culture. There is nothing charming about leading small children onto the path of hell. Good luck finding someone to rent to you at the same rates I’d agreed to.”