Out of the Shade

by S. A. McAuley

  “Tell me about it.”

  Chuck shoveled in a handful of popcorn as Ben handed over the tickets to the attendant.

  “How serious was it?”

  Chuck had no idea how to answer that question. “It’s complicated” couldn’t begin to detail in how many ways his relationship with Jesse had been fucked from the very beginning. He should have known better. He was pissed at himself that he had known better and had still let things continue.

  Chuck sighed. “We were going to get tested together.”

  Ben stopped short. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  Chuck coaxed him along through the open theatre doors and they settled into the middle of the nearly empty theatre. Ben spread napkins out on his lap before he dove into the popcorn bucket.

  “Still a neat freak, huh?” Chuck noted.

  “Just because I have pride in my appearance”—Ben eyed Chuck’s outfit of hoodie, sneakers, and a worn Megadeath t-shirt—“doesn’t mean I’m a neat freak. But yes, I am. Since you asked so nicely.”

  Chuck studied Ben, remembering that, despite their differences, they’d had had good times. “Where did we go wrong?”

  “Memory lane it is then. Feeling nostalgic today, Charles?”

  “Seriously. We had fun together, and our roots are grounded in eerily similar forests—although, your roots are a bit less tangled than mine.”

  “True enough. And you know why we didn’t work. Denial is not an attractive quality.”

  Chuck barked a laugh. “No shit. Why do I always love the ones who can never love me back?”

  Ben seemed to be considering his answer. “You really want to hear this?”

  “I asked nicely, didn’t I?”

  Ben huffed. “Because you never give all of yourself in a relationship. You’re too scared that you’re going to be rejected, just like your parents rejected you. The woman who gave birth to you lied and was literally okay with them locking you up and throwing away the key. Your dad was around, but never cared what you wanted out of life. You’re a rebel. Kind of James Dean, in a way. But the consequence of that is that you never let anyone get close enough to really make you vulnerable. You choose to love men who will leave you eventually. Self-fulfilling prophecy at its best.”

  Chuck coughed against the popcorn that had lodged in his throat. “Harsh, dude. Really harsh.”

  Ben ran his lithe fingers down the back of Chuck’s hand. “We could’ve been beautiful together.”

  Chuck gave a sad smile. “We could have been…in another universe, and if we were completely different people.”

  “Imagine the brownstone we could have had in New York. You lunching with the sports elite, me slaving away in the kitchen, making sure the cook made everything to my standards and the live-in nanny raised our tow-headed kids just right.”

  “Kids, huh?”

  “Two. A boy and a girl. Siblings who we adopted, naturally.”

  “Of course. You wanted that all with me?”

  “Honey, I can have that with anyone. It’s a generic fantasy. Insert wealthy, successful husband in slot B. I’d love to tell you that it was always about you, but once you started accumulating those tats we were over. You’re too BDSM for me. I like my vanilla.”

  “I do like it rough.”

  “I’m taking it the California Closet guy did, too.”

  Chuck froze with another handful of popcorn on its way to his mouth.

  Ben tittered. “Well, I have my answer.”

  “His name is Jesse.”

  “My first inclination is to say why do I care. But I give. Dish it. We’ve got a couple of minutes until the movie starts. And you will not talk through it. So let it all out now.”

  “You met him. Sort of. That night at McLoughlin’s.”

  “Ah yes.” Ben tilted his head and met Chuck’s eyes. “The night you casually asserted your brodude-ness.”

  “Hey! You caught me off guard. I hadn’t seen or heard from you in years.”

  “Charlie,” Ben drew out. “We didn’t end on the best of terms.”

  Chuck raised an eyebrow. “Or the worst, if I remember right.”

  “That last night before you left for Europe was fun.”

  Chuck smirked, popped another kernel into his mouth and hummed in agreement.

  “Anyway…. Jesse. Which one of the testosterone-laden ones was he?”

  Chuck tried not to picture Jesse, because he couldn’t think about him without spiraling down an ever-speeding sinkhole of feelings. That massive body that moved with grace, powerful hands and yet gentle touch, the intensity between them increasing instead of waning with each day they’d spent together….

  Chuck gritted his teeth and went with the easy reply. “The biggest one.”

  “That bear? So fucking hot. He’s gay?”

  “Bi. At least I think so, he kind of hasn’t decided.”

  “Oh lord. Choose a side.”

  “Give me a break. You know sexuality’s not that black and white.” Chuck eyed him. “At least not for all of us.”

  “So you turned the straight dude. Kudos to you. Always knew you were gifted in the gay ways.”

  Chuck scoffed. “It’s not like that either. He’d been with guys before. I wasn’t his first.”

  Ben was quiet for a moment. “But you wanted to be his last.”

  He could lie to Ben, but what was the point? “The thought had crossed my mind.”

  “And now?”

  Chuck set aside the popcorn bucket, his appetite gone. “Not so much.”

  “I’m guessing the turning point had something to do with that pesky ‘undecided’ side of his. Threesome request?”

  “If an ex-girlfriend grinding on your lap while your supposed boyfriend stands by and watches counts as a threesome, then yes.”

  “I repeat. Ouch.”

  “Yeah.”

  Ben furrowed his brow and picked at a thread hanging off Chuck’s hoodie. “So what now? It’s over?”

  Chuck shrugged. “He hasn’t called.”

  “Have you?”

  Ben yanked at the thread and flung it off to the side. Now Chuck remembered some of Ben’s idiosyncrasies that had been a sure sign the two of them would never work out. “Fuck no.”

  “Well then…?”

  Chuck frowned. “What the fuck does that mean? I—”

  “Shh,” Ben chastised as the lights dropped. “No talky. Movie.”

  Chuck slumped into his seat.

  Ben patted his hand then leaned over and whispered, “It doesn’t have to be over. Look at us. Sometimes relationships don’t work out how we think they will, but that doesn’t mean that what they evolve into is wrong. Who knows what’s meant to be? Dabble on that for the next hour and a half or so while I ogle Tom Hiddleston’s ass.”

  Chuck gripped Ben’s hand. “Thanks. You’re a good friend.”

  Ben whipped his head around and Chuck prepared for Ben to shush him, but Ben’s eyes were shining, his lips turned down in a sharp frown. “Just don’t get stuck in another fling that won’t go anywhere. You deserve more, Chuck. We both do.”

  12

  Somehow Jesse had made it through Christmas relatively unscathed. His mom had laid off grilling him about his love life once he agreed to spend the night. He’d even spent one more night there, crashing after a pot roast dinner on Christmas Day, with Precious curled up next to the twin bed—that he definitely didn’t fit into anymore—in his old room.

  He’d stared out the window for hours that night. Stark black branches on a sky partially illuminated with city lights. There weren’t any stars—a dense, gray cloud cover had settled over the city that wouldn’t fully lift until well into March.

  It had been six days since the Christmas party at Kam’s house and he still hadn’t heard from Chuck.

  Part of him was beyond pissed at that. Chuck had never given him a chance to explain. He’d walked out of Kam’s house and out of Jesse’s life just like the last two months didn’t
mean anything. Chuck owed him a call. If nothing else then at least to man up and confirm that they were over.

  But there was nothing.

  Each day he’d woken up wondering if today would be the day Chuck called. Each night he’d gone to bed more confused and more pissed.

  And today he was back out with the boys—at Kam’s request. Not drinking—also at Kam’s request.

  Jesse glowered into his glass of soda water. With a lemon wedge. How gay was that?

  “You break up with your secret girlfriend?” Ryan taunted, not for the first time that night. “I’ve never seen Sollie so balless. Have your balls even dropped yet?”

  Jesse sneered and took another sip of the fizzy shit in his glass. It tasted like ass, and not the good kind. “Yeah, in your momma’s mouth.”

  “Give it a fucking rest, both of you,” Kam said, pushing Ryan’s face away. Ryan barely noticed as he stumbled past them and over to the darts.

  “He’s not making this not-drinking thing any fucking easier,” Jesse pointed out to Kam.

  Kam’s features went hard. “Well, now you know what it’s like dealing with your drunk-ass when you’ve had too many.”

  Jesse scrubbed his hands over his face. “Shit. Sorry, Kam. I’ve made a fucking mess of my life. And probably your day job and the league.”

  “Have you talked to Chuck?” Kam said to Jesse, leaning across the table.

  He shook his head. “Not here, Kam—” Luckily, his phone rang, saving him from having this discussion with Kam.

  He glanced at the caller ID and answered. “What’s up, Em?”

  “Jesse.”

  Emily was whispering and his name sounded garbled, like her mouth was full of sand.

  Dread slammed through Jesse and his heartbeat sped. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten a call from his sister that started this way. “Where are you?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know how it happened again. The door’s locked, but I can hear him.” There was the sound of wood splintering, shattering, and a bellow. “No, Ian!” she wailed, the phone clattering as if it was being ripped from her hands. Then the line cut off.

  Jesse stared at the phone in his hands then swiped his glass off the table. Chair legs screeched against the floor as the boys around him reeled back, retreating from where Jesse sat, his chest heaving.

  Kam caught eyes with him. “Emily?”

  Jesse’s stomach sank and tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. “Ian’s beating the shit out of her again.”

  A torrent of swear words when up from all the boys. Jesse started to stand and Kam leaned across the table, putting a hand on top of his, stilling him.

  “Don’t go there, Sollie. We’ll call the police.”

  Jesse glanced around the room, clenching his jaw. Matt was already on his phone, but Jesse knew that wasn’t that answer. The cops had never done anything to stop Ian.

  “She ended up in the hospital the last time and you know the cops won’t get there fast enough to keep that from happening again. She needs me.”

  Jesse barreled toward the back door. He wasn’t drunk, but anger clouded his vision more than alcohol ever could. No—the anger made everything around him jump into stark clarity. It was because he hadn’t anything to drink that he knew exactly what he had to do. He was focused. A pinpoint glow of anger burned at his core and spread through his veins, darkening the edges of his vision. He was probably too upset to be driving, but that was the least of his worries. His tiny sister was having the shit beat out of her. And this could be the time she didn’t survive.

  Jesse jumped into his car and screeched out of the parking lot. She had to be at home—Ian had never dared to hit her in public. She’d probably tried to lock herself into the bathroom like she usually did when Ian went into a rage.

  Jesse clenched his jaw so tightly he saw stars.

  Ian had no fucking idea what real rage was. Jesse was coming for him and if there was even one mark on his sister when he got there then Jesse didn’t know if he’d be able to keep himself from killing the man.

  Jesse sped into the driveway of Emily’s rental, gravel spitting out from the tires as the car careened to a stop. He didn’t wait to see if Kam or any of the other boys had followed him. He heard cars coming to a stop and doors slamming, but he didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.

  The house in front of him was dark. He barreled up the steps and slammed his fists on the flimsy particleboard, pushing his hands through the cheap wood with little effort. His knuckles screamed in pain, blood splashed across the frame, but the sight of it steeled him. He had to get to Emily.

  He slammed his shoulder into the door. Once, twice, then again. He was grunting in pain, nearly screaming with frustration. But the door wouldn’t budge off its hinges.

  “Move back, Sollie,” Kam’s voice came from behind him.

  Jesse turned on his best friend, eyes blazing, ready to take his oldest friend out if he had to. He wasn’t going to stop. Getting to Emily was the only thought that could make it through his brain.

  Kam came up beside him. Searched his eyes and nodded. “I’ll stay out here and make sure the cops know you’re not armed. On three.”

  Kam counted and they crashed into the wood together, the door giving away, splintering, as he stumbled into the living room.

  Jesse righted himself and ran for the bathroom. His fists were balled, ready to kill the man who had taken his hand to his sister. Ian came out of the darkness around the corner and Jesse struck him without thought.

  Ian staggered back. “What the fuck?” But he was on his feet in a second, crashing into Jesse and throwing both of them into the living room.

  Their limbs tangled as they fell to the floor. Jesse was bigger than Ian, at least a head taller, with the strength of protectiveness surging through his veins.

  He heard Emily wail behind him and that noise fed the fury, anger, hatred burning through him, taking every shred of his sanity, until he had Ian pinned under him and he was beating the man’s face in.

  Ian grunted with each punch. There was a cracking of bone, the spray of blood across Jesse’s face. It was hot, sticky, jettisoning into his eyes and blinding his vision. But he kept punching. He had no other thought than this had to end here. Now.

  If Ian walked away from this, the next time Emily might not.

  He took his self-directed anger and focused it outwards, burning away his frustration and hopelessness in the flames of his frenzy. His life wasn’t fair, and neither was Emily’s, and Ian deserved punishment more than either of them did.

  Then hands were pulling at him, more than he could count, and there were shouts filling the room as he was pulled off Ian. It wasn’t until he heard the growl of a deep voice behind him that he realized it wasn’t the boys pulling him out the front door.

  “You have the right to remain silent….”

  Jesse tuned the voice out. He took in deep, ragged breaths. His muscles tensed against the force of the hands on him and their grip tightened.

  He fought against their hold. He wanted to go back and make sure the job was done. He hoped Ian was dead. He’d never wanted anything more.

  He was pushed through the splintered front door, his shoes crunching against the slivers littering the front porch and emerged into a sea of red and blue flashing lights.

  He was shoved down the stairs and to the ground, his face pressed through the snow and into the cold, wet dirt below. There was a knee of his back, forcing the breath from his lungs until he could barely inhale. He was desperate for oxygen, but he was more desperate to make sure Emily was okay.

  “Jesse!” Emily cried out from somewhere around him.

  “You okay?” he screamed, trying to see her. His face was shoved farther into the dead grass and ice.

  Emily’s voice trailed away, but she yelled back to him, “I’m okay. Jesus, let me go!”

  Jesse started struggling again, fought against the restraints being snapped around his wrists and the hands and
knees keeping him immobile on the ground.

  “They’re not hurting her,” a deep, authoritative voice growled in his ear. “She’s with the EMTs. Stop fighting us.”

  Jesse spat out the grass and dirt in his mouth, dragged in another shallow breath, the coldness of the air soothing his burning lungs. “I’m calm.”

  They waited for another beat, until the cops were sure he wasn’t going to fight anymore. He relaxed his body and they lessened the stranglehold on him.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he gasped out.

  The cops hauled him to his feet and Jesse finally got a look at the chaos surrounding him.

  Emily was in the back of an ambulance, a blanket around her shoulders and Kam at her side, wincing as the EMTs prodded at the cuts all over her face. She cradled her right arm as if it was badly injured, possibly broken. Then Jesse saw the white of bone sticking out of her arm and his knees began to buckle.

  He was yanked up and pushed toward a cop car but was on his feet long enough to see the stretcher being pulled from the house and down the steps. Ian’s face was pulverized, unrecognizable.

  Jesse sucked in a satisfied breath.

  The cop behind him opened the door and pushed Jesse in, hand on his head and against the plastic cuff around his wrists.

  Jesse slumped into the seat and closed his eyes.

  Emily was alive. Safe.

  It was the only thing that mattered.

  The door to the cop car clicked shut with a definitive, bone-jarring thump.

  This was the last place Chuck had expected to be just days after Christmas.

  The county jail was a towering building of beige concrete and windows that were slim slits. Chuck shuddered, realizing that it looked almost exactly the same as the jail one county over. There was definitely some masochist fuck who’d designed these. He pushed through the glass doors into a stark atrium of benches and dying potted plants, to the all-glass visitor’s window.

  “I’m here to visit Jesse Solomona.”

  A rotund man passed a clipboard through the opening at the bottom.

  “ID, sign this form.”

  Chuck filled out the release, reading none of what it said, and pushed it back through with his license.