by Jerry Cole
“The casserole,” Jackson laughed. “How about after? Don’t you have dinner at like six or something?”
“Six-thirty,” Bradley confirmed. “And sure thing... ah, where at?”
“Wilfred’s,” Jackson offered.
“Eight?” Bradley clarified.
“Sounds good!” Jackson leaned forward on his cart and pushed the thing into motion. As he came upon Bradley, he smiled and offered a cheeky grin and wink. “I’ll see you there. Don’t be late... or else.”
It took all of Bradley’s self-control to not ask ‘or else what?’ God how he wanted to! But it was a game to Jackson, an intentional thread left hanging in the hopes that Bradley would reach for it. Already, the two men were back into their old ways.
Bradley remained in that aisle for a moment longer, wondering to himself what the heck had just happened. Had he just said yes to a date? No, no that wasn’t it. It was just a catch-up drink with an old friend... who he happened to have dated once upon a time. That wasn’t so wrong, was it?
As if to try and make himself feel better, Bradley then pulled out his phone to make sure that Sherman still hadn’t tried to call. Of course, he hadn’t, and from the looks of things he wasn’t going to be anytime soon. It made him feel a little bit better about what had just happened... but only a bit. Guilt still reigned down upon him as if he had cheated or something insane like that.
But could he even cheat? Were he and Sherman even dating anymore? Clearly, Sherman didn’t care about him that much? If he had, then he would have —
“What is taking so long!” his mother was moving down the aisle toward him like a quarter-back with a football tucked under her arm. Indeed, a few lazy shoppers had to hurry to get out of her way. “How long does it take to get a can of tomatoes!”
“Two cans,” Bradley corrected. “And you’re welcome.” He tossed the cans in her cart and fell in beside her. “Oh, by the way, I’m going out tonight after dinner.”
“Who with?” she narrowed her eyes.
He rolled his. “No one – just a friend for a catch-up drink. That’s all.”
“All right,” she responded skeptically. “Just so long as you’re not bailing on dinner.”
He wasn’t going to bail on dinner. He also wasn’t going to cheat on Sherman. This was just a catch-up drink, that was all. But if that was the case, then why did he feel so damn guilty?
Bradley checked his phone once more. Still, no call or text.
***
Bradley was only halfway through his first drink when he realized he had made a mistake.
It was actually before he even arrived at the bar that he began to suspect this was the wrong thing to do. Although Jackson hadn’t specified his intentions, Bradley suspected what they were. Yes, he could have been naïve and just assumed that his ex wanted to catch-up for old time’s sake... but even Bradley wasn’t that stupid.
In order to make a point, Bradley purposefully dressed himself down, hoping this might send some sort of signal to Jackson that this was purely on the level. He wore an old pair of jeans that had stretched out and didn’t fit him right. He threw on a crinkled, button-down shirt that he had left behind in Melbourne when he moved simply because he never wore it. And as for shoes? Try a pair of plain white sneakers that had zero style to them. It looked more like he was going to a friend’s house to babysit, rather than meeting up with an old lover.
Jackson didn’t seem to mind though. The moment that he spotted Bradley walk through the door and cross the bar to where he was sitting, he pressed his lips together and pretended to whistle. “Someone call the fashion police,” he joked.
“What?” Bradley pretended not to care as he sat down opposite Jackson. “No good?” he indicated his shirt, which he now realized had a large coffee stain near the collar.
“You always had a style about you.” Jackson leaned back in his seat, crossed his arms and smirked as he ran his eyes up and down Bradley. “Lucky you were also able to pull almost anything off.”
“Yeah... well...” Bradley shrugged as he felt himself blush. Fuck, what was he doing here?!
He hated that Jackson looked so good too. He hated his perfectly styled, short cut curly hair. He hated those thick lips and thicker lashes. He hated that square jaw, that perfectly shaped nose and the scent of musk drifting off him. He hated it all! But only because of how good it made Jackson look. Worse that Jackson knew it.
Since the day they had first met, Jackson had had a sort of hold on Bradley. A few years older, a lot more confident, and a super control freak, he’d always enjoyed the way he was able to wrap Bradley around his finger and make him do anything. Shit, even Bradley’s trip to Europe was a result of Jackson. Sitting here with him now, about to start drinking... it was dangerous.
As if to prove that this was just a casual catch-up, Bradley pulled his phone out and put it on the table so that he’d be able to see if anyone – Sherman – called. But he knew they wouldn’t.
“Vodka lime and soda?” Jackson asked as he indicated across the bar to the waiter. “Still rocking those abs, Bradles?”
“Ha, yeah...” Bradley shrugged. “You know how Sydney is.”
“I’ve heard. But tell me truthfully, the men in Melbourne are hotter. Aren’t they?”
The implication of the question was clear. It was just lucky that Bradley was saved having to answer as the waiter popped up a moment later and took their drink orders. As he walked away too, Bradley caught Jackson checking out the waiter’s ass; it was a tight butt, squeezed into a pair of tighter jeans.
Jackson saw Bradley watching him and shrugged. “Single life,” he laughed. “It has a few advantages... and a few more.” He then winked.
“So, you’re single?” Bradley asked quickly. He was feeling nervous, almost guilty like he was doing something wrong.
“Very.” The way that word dripped from Jackson’s thick lips was extremely suggestive. “Clearly, you are too?”
“Huh?” Bradley blinked.
“Oh, come on.” Jackson laughed. “Enough games, Bradles. We’re past that.”
“Games? I’m not playing —”
“You’re in Melbourne, alone. You’re out drinking with me, alone. If you want to pretend that you’re seeing someone back in Sydney, make me work for it a little, so be it. Just know that I’m on to you.”
It was just then that their drinks arrived. The moment that his was in front of him, Bradley scooped his up and threw back half in one go. He’d needed it. Not because of how thirsty he was though, but because of how disorientated he was feeling. How could he have been so stupid?
He had known what Jackson had wanted. Even before right now, he’d always known. There was only ever one thing that Jackson wanted, and worse too that he nearly always got it. By coming down here and having a drink with him too, Bradley had just about admitted consent.
Indeed, the way that Jackson eyed him now, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was running through his head; the scenarios he was most likely playing over and over again. Each one would have been more sexual and filthy, than the last. If Bradley stayed, if he finished his drink and then had another, he was basically telling Jackson that he was into it. He was confirming that those images would soon become a reality.
“How’s that waiter, though,” Jackson crooned as he picked his drink up, had a sip and then glanced across the bar toward the waiter. “What do you think? Should we see what time he gets off?”
And just like that, a switch went off inside Bradley’s head. What was he doing here? Well, he knew what he was doing. He was living a fantasy that he’d harbored long before he ever met Sherman. It was a fantasy from a life that he hardly even recognized now... one he didn’t want to recognize. And seeing Jackson flirt with him, watching as he eye-fucked a random waiter like he was a prime rib, actually made him feel a little sad. Is this what he used to be like? Was this who he used to idolize?
That wasn’t Bradley anymore. Now, Bradley had a job.
Now, Bradley knew how to cook, clean, shop, look after himself in general. Now, Bradley was older than Jackson in some ways, certainly more mature. And now, and most importantly, Bradley had a boyfriend.
Yes, he still had a boyfriend. Sherman Haas, the love of his life, was still dating him as far as he knew. And no, he hadn’t called since their fight, but that was just because he was as stubborn as a mule... which was one of the many things he loved about Sherman. Yes, loved. He loved Sherman and he knew that if he turned up tomorrow to apologize, to do what he should have done a week ago, that Sherman would take him back with open arms.
Actually, fuck tomorrow. Why not do it right now?
“I have to go.” Bradley didn’t wait for Jackson’s response. He certainly didn’t wait to give an explanation either. “Nice seeing you again Jackson.” With half his drink finished, Bradley stood up from his chair and powered from the bar like his life depended on it.
From there he headed straight to the airport. He sent his mother a quick text, telling her where he was going, that he loved her, and that he’d call when he landed. He knew she wouldn’t mind. If anything, she’d probably be happy for him.
He managed to get on the last plane out of Melbourne, a late-night flight that landed in Sydney at exactly midnight. With no bags, Bradley was able to jump to the head of the taxi rank and order that he be taken straight to Sherman’s apartment. He knew Sherman like the back of his hand and knew that his boyfriend would be there right now, probably watching TV, or wallowing in self-pity... he almost hoped it was the second one.
He had no spare key, but that didn’t matter. Instead, Bradley just buzzed every apartment number in the building until one of them opened the door without checking.
His heart rate was up as he powered down the hallway to Sherman’s front door. What was he going to say? What was he going to do? He still had no idea. Apologize, yes. But there was so much more needed than a simple apology. He was going to write something down on the plane, but wanted it to come from the heart in a sort of moment of spontaneity. It had seemed romantic at the time, now he wished he’d at least jotted a few things down.
But there was no time for that. At Sherman’s closed front door, he took a few deep breaths, tried to calm his pounding heart and then knocked on the door as loud as he could.
Nothing.
He knocked again. And again, there was nothing. He gave it a third knock, the loudest one yet but was again greeted by crickets.
For some reason that Bradley could not fathom, Sherman wasn’t home. But why? It was Thursday night for God’s sake, and Sherman hated going out. So, where was he? On a date? Drinking? Having fun now that he was single? All these possibilities and more swirled through Bradley’s head like a cavalcade of madness.
Depression sunk in and Bradley matched it by sinking to the floor. He was so sure that Sherman was going to be home, that he’d be there ready to accept him with open arms. And now that he wasn’t? Bradley was at a loss for what to do next.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sherman hoped he had the right house. He’d never been to Bradley’s home before, and although he managed to find the address tucked away in his phone somewhere, he still wasn’t one hundred percent confident that this was the right one. And where ordinarily he wouldn’t mind so much if he did knock on the wrong door and had to try again, the fact that it was 6:30am made the whole thing a little more precarious.
Yes, Sherman was at Bradley’s house in Melbourne. He had landed less than an hour ago in the Victorian capital and come straight here. He hadn’t called Bradley in advance either to let him know that he was coming... but that was sort of the point.
It was after Nick left him alone that Sherman realized how truly desperate and pathetic his situation was. He’d had the worst week of his life, and for what? Because he was too stubborn to call his boyfriend and apologize? Because he had created some sort of ludicrous scenario in his head where his boyfriend thought that he was better than him?! He was insane!
So, he decided it was time to be the bigger man and call Bradley and say he was sorry... but when he picked up the phone to make that call, something didn’t seem right. It had been too long. An entire week of zero contact and he was going to break that with a phone call? No, what was needed was a face-to-face conversation.
There was however one small issue, and it was one that didn’t come to light until thirty minutes later when Sherman walked up to Bradley’s apartment, flowers in hand, ‘forgive me eyes’ tried and tested and his heart ready to be lain bare. Bradley wasn’t home. And not only was he not home, but a quick look through his apartment suggested he hadn’t been home for a while.
There was a moment of extreme panic, followed by rationalization as Sherman told himself that this wasn’t a big deal. Really, Bradley was probably just at a friend’s house or something. Better than being alone. He didn’t know many of Bradley’s friends, but there was one number he could call.
“Well, well, well,” Isabelle drawled on the other end of the line. “Look who has come crawling back —”
“Isabelle,” Sherman cut her off. “It’s Sherman Haas, Bradley’s boyfriend.”
Isabelle sighed. “Yes, I know who it is – why do you think I answered the phone that way?”
“I honestly have no idea. I thought maybe you thought it was someone else... like an ex or —”
“No, I have your number saved,” she snapped. “Although now it’s been changed to ‘That Asshole that Broke Poor Bradley’s Heart in Two.’”
“Really?” Sherman frowned. “That seems a little long for a phone contact.”
“I was being sarcastic!”
It took a little while after that for Sherman to get out of Isabelle where Bradley had gone. First, he had to apologize. Then he had to promise not to do it again. Then he had to agree to go to the opening night of a play she was starring in, in a month’s time. And then, finally, she told him that Bradley had flown to Melbourne to visit his mother for the week.
“Thank you,” he breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’ll see you at opening night,” she followed up.
“Yes, yes.” He hung the phone up and then got his ass to the airport.
It was a long night, but only because Sherman had been forced to spend it at the airport. The first flight out of the city left at 5am, and where Sherman could have just gone home and come back in the following morning, he didn’t want to risk it. He wanted to be there at the gate the second that it opened for boarding. So, he spent the night trying to sleep on one of the airport lounges which was an infinitely uncomfortable experience.
But it was worth it. Or rather it would be. And as Sherman knocked three times on Bradley’s front door – what he hoped to be Bradley’s front door – Sherman began to feel vindicated in his decision. Soon, this horrid nightmare would be over.
There were footsteps coming from behind the door. Then the sound of a chain rattling. A lock unclicking. The door flew open and standing on the other side was who could only be Bradley’s mother.
“Hellooooo!” she bellowed at the sight of him. Her eyes were wide, her smile large and her body language was open and welcoming. At least she wasn’t mad. “If it isn’t Mr. Sherman Haas!”
Bradley’s mother was one of the largest women Sherman had ever seen. That wasn’t to say that she was fat, just big, almost in the same way that Nick was. She was tall. Her shoulders and back were wide. Her chest and stomach were bulbous. Even her hair-do was big and over the top. Everything about her seemed exaggerated, and that included the way she suddenly grabbed at Sherman and pulled him into the tightest, most crushing hug he’d ever had.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” she carried on as Sherman struggled to breathe. “So much – Bradley won’t stop going on and on!”
When she released him, Sherman took a series of long, deep breaths as a means to remain standing and not pass out. “You must be... Bradley’s... mother,” he managed.
“The one a
nd only. But you can call me Ms. Miles. Or mom, if you like.” Her smile was huge and she looked down at Sherman with such love that one might have thought this was their hundredth time meeting... not their first.
In a way it was a relief. At least it meant that Bradley hadn’t spent the week bad mouthing him. “All right... mom.”
This did the trick. In an effort to not burst into tears, Bradley’s mother shuffled Sherman into the house and closed the door behind him. Then, she ordered him toward the kitchen. He made sure to move quickly, as he suspected that she might just pick him up and carry him if he dawdled.
“So, Bradley is still sleeping?” Sherman asked as he looked around the house for signs of his boyfriend. There were plenty of pictures of him of course, most from his youth, but no indications that he was here right now.
“I’m so glad you came.” Bradley’s mother had the kettle in hand and hurried to the sink to fill it with water. “Bradles might act all tough, but I know he’s missed you.”
“I’ve missed him too,” Sherman assured her. “What time does he usually wake up —”
“Coffee dear?” she indicated to the kettle, now plugged in and slowly reaching a boil.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”
“Great!” she beamed and she hurriedly started making them a coffee each. It was a whirlwind experience, the way she flew through the kitchen as she did so. “Me, personally, I can’t start my day without one. When I was your age, I used to have four a day – four! Can you believe that?” she shook her head to herself.
“That’s a lot of coffee.”
Sherman didn’t want to be rude. Especially seeing as this was his first-time meeting Bradley’s mother. But the way she was purposefully ignoring his questions, the manner in which she danced about the kitchen without a care in the world, was starting to irritate him.
“I was a different woman back then,” she continued as she poured the boiling water into the coffee mugs. “I don’t need to tell you – here you are, dear.” She pushed the coffee toward him.