Only You

by Jerry Cole

  It started, really, after he left Amsterdam. With Amsterdam in his rearview mirror, Bradley was operating on a high that he couldn’t have seen coming. He’d had Sherman to thank, of course, seeing as the older man had offered him an escape and distraction that he had so desperately needed. When he had first landed in the iconic Dutch city, all he’d been able to think about was Jackson and what he was doing, thinking, feeling...

  But then he met Sherman. Sherman was no Jackson, but he was at the very least a welcome change. Those three days had been fun and unexpected and that had been enough. When they were done with, Bradley had honestly assumed the rest of his time in Europe would be much the same.

  It was not.

  And this wasn’t to say it was unenjoyable because that wasn’t the case either. It was just... well, it was hard. Bradley was completely out of his depth and although he got better the longer it went on, by the time the month was over, he was on struggle street. He had no money left, nothing booked for Lisbon, and no idea how he was going to survive for those final three days.

  If there was one positive takeaway from that month spent alone, it was that he aged ten years in four weeks. Not only had he not thought of Jackson once, but he considered the possibility that now, having travelled and seen the world, he might have outgrown Jackson. But perhaps that was getting ahead of himself.

  It would be no exaggeration to say that Sherman saved him in Lisbon. Not only did he offer him a room to stay in, but he fed him, clothed him and entertained him.

  The first three days were spent doing everything that the two men could possibly think of. They had an end date, the third day when Bradley was meant to fly home, so they did all they could to squeeze as much as they could into those three days. They saw the sights, they ate at the best restaurants, they drank at the most expensive bars and they had so much sex that Bradley’s cock actually began to hurt by the end of the third day... not that he was going to let that stop him.

  He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t explain it. He had no idea how to rationalize it. For some reason, he was attracted to Sherman in a way he never had been to another man before. Even Jackson, who was physically superior in every quantifiable metric, didn’t hold a candle to Sherman. Bradley just wished he knew why.

  Even before he had found out about Sherman’s wealth, he’d been into him. Their sex that final day in Amsterdam had been beyond explainable, and their first night together in Lisbon... Bradley still got hard just thinking about it.

  It wasn’t even his money... although that didn’t hurt either. It was just Sherman. He was sweet. He was nice. He was funny and witty and surprisingly charming. But he also made Bradley feel comfortable, and welcome, and like he was an equal part in their... whatever they were. It was a relationship where they both gave and took in equal measure, and maybe that’s why he was so into it?

  Regardless of the why, it was clear almost right away that Sherman felt the same way about Bradley. This was such the case that when it came time for Bradley to fly home, Sherman demanded that he not only extend his ticket for a few more days – paid for by Sherman – but that those extra days be spent by the two men, alone, on a yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.

  Naturally, it took Bradley all of one minute to agree. He was on vacation after all.

  And so, the last few days of Bradley’s extended trip were spent on a rather large yacht with just Sherman to keep him company (and a few personalized staff, of course). They swam in the aqua blue waters on which they floated, they bathed in the tropical sun daily, they drank champagne and ate fresh fruit and, of course, they made love for hours and hours on end. It was a dream.

  But there was a problem and it was one that had begun to haunt Bradley on his second day on the yacht.

  When Bradley had first met Sherman, he’d assumed they’d never see one another again. As such, he had slightly over exaggerated his career... and by slightly, he meant that he had outright lied. He was an actor, which wasn't the lie; the lie was how successful he was.

  He had made it out like he was a big-time actor with all this money and fame and success, when in fact the complete opposite was true. Fuck, when Sherman had found him, Bradley was in the cheapest hotel in Lisbon trying to barter for a room.

  At first, Bradley was happy to take advantage of Sherman’s generosity too. He had offered after all, and from what he told Bradley, he made plenty of money. But that was a week ago and a lot had changed...

  Bradley slowly found himself liking Sherman. Fuck, he really liked him and with every passing minute, with every bottle of expensive liquor drunk, or new hidden cove explored, or suggestion that they stay even longer, Bradley felt worse and worse. He had to tell Sherman the truth before he flew home... he just didn’t know how.

  “Say...” Sherman started slowly. He was sipping on his coffee and typing away on his laptop. If Bradley seemed a little worried or nervous, Sherman gave no indication that he could tell. “... what are you doing in November?”

  “Huh — November?” Bradley blinked. He had been so lost in his own paranoia that it took him a few moments to catch up with the question. “I don’t — probably eating at one point?” he joked.

  “I thought so,” Sherman responded seriously. “Cause, I was thinking... how’d you feel about eating in Bali at one point?”

  “Bali? What?”

  Sherman was trying to hide his smile, but failing miserably. “I was just – I have to go to Bali the first week of November, for business. But I only need to be there a day or two. I’ve never really hung out in Bali before and figured...” He paused, waiting for Bradley to pick up on what he was saying.

  “You want to know what kind of post card to send me?” Bradley joked. He knew where this was going, but he desperately hoped he was wrong.

  Sherman rolled his eyes. “Come to Bali with me.” He put the laptop down and sat up, reaching forward as he did and taking Bradley’s hands in his. He was excited now and began to speak quickly. “We haven’t really spoken about what’s going to happen after – and I’m not saying anything like that – fuck. I mean, I’m not saying that we need to date or stay in – you know what I mean,” he exhaled and took a deep breath. “I’m starting to sound like a crazy person.”

  “You’re not.”

  “I am, but that’s Okay. I’ve had a good time this week – a great time.”

  “Me too.” Bradley gave Sherman’s hands a squeeze. He thought about kissing them too, but didn’t, only because he was going to have to turn his offer down and didn’t want to get his hopes up too much.

  “And I want to have another good time – not like that.” He took a deep breath in an effort to center himself. “Come to Bali with me. Like I said, we haven’t spoken about what’s going to happen after... if we’re even going to stay in contact.”

  “Of course we are!”

  “Then prove it. Book a trip to Bali. Meet me there. Make this week seem small scale by comparison. Make me actually look forward to leaving Europe because it means that I’ll be one step closer to going to Bali... with you?”

  Sherman’s body was shaking he was so damn excited. His eyes also sparkled and the smile he wore was as big a one as Bradley had ever seen... and Bradley hated to see it.

  "I can’t go to Bali,” he said softly and pulled his hands free.

  “How come?” Sherman demanded.

  “I’ve... I’ve got to tell you something.” He spoke into his chest and refused to look into Sherman’s eyes. “About who I am.”

  A pause. “Oh?”

  “When we met... I was in a bad place.”

  “The gutter?” Sherman joked.

  “No — well, yes. But that’s not what I meant.” Bradley took a deep breath and forced himself to look at Sherman. That only made it harder. “I’m not an actor – I am but... what I mean is, I may have... all the stuff I told you about the roles that I’ve had...”

  “Soap opera stuff,” Sherman confirmed.

  “Yea
h. That and plays and... well getting steady work, to be honest. I may have... there’s a chance that I... I’m not quite as successful as I might have – why are you smiling?”

  Sherman was smiling at Bradley. And not just smiling, but almost laughing. His body shook from withheld laughter and his lips were pressed tightly together to stop himself from beaming. “I’m not.”

  “You are!”

  “All right, I am.” He held his hands up in defense. “But only because you get so cute when you’re nervous.”

  “Cute? Did you not just hear what I said?”

  “Every word.”

  “And?” Now he was a little angry. Why wasn’t Sherman taking this seriously?

  Sherman reached forward and took Bradley’s hands again. He gave them a squeeze and kissed the back of them. “My dear, sweet, innocent Bradley Miles. Do you really think I hadn’t figured that out yet? Seriously – what do you take me for?”

  Bradley’s stomach dropped through the floor and sunk into the ocean. “You... you had?”

  “Of course!” Sherman shook his head to himself as if to say, ‘come on.’ “You’re aware that the internet exists, right? Plus – and this is a big one. I saw you begging for a room in —”

  “I was researching a role!”

  “Until you weren't,” Sherman countered. “In fact, I don’t think you’ve even mentioned that role once since —”

  “I’ve been distracted!” Bradley didn’t even know why he was arguing. He had been lying after all.

  Sherman gave his hands a tighter squeeze. “I don’t care,” he assured him. “I don’t care if you're an actor or a street worker. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest – all I care about is that you’re you. Which...” he pretended to look behind Bradley, as if expecting someone else to pop out suddenly. “...I think you are? I can’t see any evidence that you’re not —”

  “But I lied,” Bradley pointed out. “I have been lying since we met.”

  Sherman shrugged. “So did I, if you remember.”

  “I guess – but that’s different!”

  “How?”

  Bradley opened his mouth to argue, but then hesitated. Sherman was right, he had done the exact same thing when they’d first met. The only difference was that he dropped the charade a little sooner than Bradley had. So, if Bradley didn’t mind, why would Sherman?

  “I’ve been taking advantage of you,” Bradley sighed.

  “Believe me when I say I’ve been getting mine back,” Sherman winked and licked his lips.

  Bradley blushed. “You’re not mad?”

  “Honestly?” Sherman dropped Bradley’s hands, sat up straight and fixed him with his most serious stare yet. “I have one question for you, and you better answer truthfully.” A beat as their eyes met. “Do you want me to book you a first-class flight to Bali, or Business Class? I don’t mind which.”

  Bradley was so happy that he could have cried. Indeed, as Sherman scooped his laptop back up and got about finding flights for Bradley to meet him in Bali in three months’ time, he could feel his chin begin to shake and his bottom lip begin to quiver. How Bradley had gotten so lucky, he would never know.

  “I don’t care,” he said with a smile. “So long as I’m in your bed that night.”

  “Oh... I think we can arrange that.”

  “Actually.” Bradley reached forward, grabbed at Sherman’s laptop and pushed it to the side. He then scrambled forward and mounted him, his hand going immediately for Sherman’s crotch. “Why wait?”

  “Best that we get a little practice in before —”

  Whatever Sherman was about to say became cut off as Bradley’s lips mashed into his. They had one final day on this yacht before both men had to fly back home to Australia. As such, Bradley figured they better take full advantage while they could.

  And so, they did... a couple of times, to be fair.

  Chapter Eight

  “This isn’t going to take very long, is it?” Sherman checked the time on his phone. It was 7:30PM, which meant that he had exactly one hour to get this meeting over with and get back home. He couldn’t be late.

  “Five minutes,” Nick shrugged. “Maybe ten if he likes you – but he doesn’t like anybody,” he finished with a nervous chuckle and a readjustment of his tie. Nick rarely looked nervous, so the fact he was right now was telling.

  “Good.” Sherman chose to ignore Nick’s clear anxiety as he pocketed his phone. “Because I really don’t want to have to cut this thing sh —”

  “All right, all right,” Nick eased. “Jesus — you’re aware that this isn’t like a regular meeting, yeah? I didn’t call the dude’s secretary and have her put this down in the books. He doesn’t do these all the time, like a fucking accountant or something. You got lucky he’s seeing you at all – do you know the risk these guys take, meeting new clients?”

  Sherman rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s not like I’m paying him or anything.”

  “It’s about more than money with these people.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Trust. Loyalty. Knowing you’re not going to call the cops the minute you get pissed. These things you can’t buy.” Nick then paused for a moment, when a satisfied smiled came to his face. “For everything else, there’s Master Card.”

  “Funny.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nick must have noticed how tense Sherman was looking because he gave it a minute before shaking his head to himself and slapping Sherman on the back as if to calm him down. “It’s all right, mate. I’ve met him a dozen times. He’s fine... good guy. He’s a good... good guy.” He didn’t sound convincing.

  “I doubt it – but that’s not... I just need to be back home in an hour, that’s all.”

  “And I’ll get you there – what's it for, anyhow? You were annoyingly brief when I asked you earlier. Hot date? Eh?” Nick smirked and attempted to pull what he must have thought to be a seductive expression on his face. “Will this be the first Friday night in a year that you haven’t spent alone —”

  “Business call,” Sherman lied. “About the cruise ships.”

  Nick’s face dropped. “Ah, of course... should have known. A fucking business call. Cruise ships, he says.”

  It wasn’t a business call that Sherman had to make in what was now, fifty-eight minutes away. The call he had to make was far, far more important than any old business call. But Nick didn’t need to know that. Especially when considering where the two men were and what they were about to be doing.

  As mentioned, it was a Friday night, just past 7:30PM, roughly one and a half months after Sherman had returned from Europe. In many ways, Sherman was a different man than he had been when he had left on what he was now referring to as a ‘business trip,’ but only because it sounded a little more professional.

  He was certainly a little more confident in himself. He was almost definitely happier, and he was just generally grateful for the little things in his life. And even though he’d had to bite the bullet and cancel the Single’s Through Europe Package, a decision that cost his company millions, he preferred to see the upside to it... that being the fact he got to go to Europe, and all the good that came from that.

  But despite these small yet significant changes, what Nick had him doing right now, the place that he had dragged him to almost against his will, was still a bridge too far.

  The two men were sitting in Nick’s car, parked just out front of some community housing in a local ‘rough spot’, Redfern. Redfern was known for housing some of the lower-end members of society, the kind you wouldn’t want to walk past in the middle of the night with no witnesses about. Most of these lowlifes lived in one of the three community housing buildings, built decades ago; these were tall, concrete towers that the locals called ‘Suicide Towers’ for reasons that were obvious to anyone unlucky enough to see them.

  As of the moment, there were a dozen or so people gathered outside the building’s entrance; most were loitering teens, smokin
g and drinking their lives away, while a few were homeless people too lazy, weak or high to roll themselves somewhere more private. It was the kind of place that Sherman ordinarily wouldn’t be caught at in a million years... but this was no ordinary situation.

  “Where is he?” Sherman checked his phone again, 7:34PM. “I thought you said 7:30?”

  “I did. But what about this guy makes you think he’s the sort to be punctual?” Nick wasn’t paying Sherman any attention. Rather, he had a string of tooth-floss out and had proceeded to floss between his teeth – using the rear-view mirror – as he spoke. Being the larger man that he was, he was forced to lean up and forward to get a good view, which had him pushing Sherman back into the corner of his seat.

  “Do you mind?” Sherman curled his lip at the sight.

  “Wha’?” Nick managed. A second later and Nick was winding his window down and discarding the floss on the street. “Have you ever tried to hit on a girl with bad breath? It almost never works – oh, what do you think of this suit, by the way? Too much?”

  The suit was a shiny navy-blue two-piece, paired with a light-pink shirt, a matching pocket square and tie. It was the kind of suit that Sherman would have worn to a special event or a function, or maybe a wedding. Nick however was headed out tonight and wanted to look his best. He’d tried to drag Sherman out too, as he always did, but Sherman denied him, as he always did.

  “It’s fine,” Sherman assured him.

  “Fine?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want, fine. I want sexy, or suave, or refined. Any of those, really – and my hair? What do you think? I was going to gel it down, but there’s too much. So, I figured I’d let it run loose and go for a sort of, man who can’t be tamed look? Huh?” Nick nodded his head as if trying to get Sherman to go along.

  “Ahhhh... if that’s what you’re going for...?”

  Sherman didn’t know what to say. Lucky that he was saved from having to properly answer a moment later, as Nick looked over Sherman’s shoulder and saw the man they were waiting for. “Oh! Here we go.”