The Player's Protégé

by CJane Elliott

  “That was stupid and blurred the lines. It would have been totally unethical if you were, like, his therapist or a professional life coach or something. But I’m taking it he’s not paying you for your expertise?”

  “No.”

  “Well then, if it was agreed on between you, and he got the experience he was looking for, what’s the problem?”

  Jerry squirmed and stared at a bolt of fabric. “I’m being ridiculous, is the problem. You’re right that showing Arlo how to get out there really required nothing more than a fifteen-minute consultation and setting him up on Grindr. Instead I’ve spent several days with the guy, counseling him, taking him shopping, and now this. I let him top me, not once but two times, and I’m… like, I can’t believe this guy is for real. Denise, it was so good. Right up there with the best sex Eric and I ever had.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “You see what?” Jerry noticed he was clutching the fabric. He released it slowly and checked the time.

  “Your bringing Eric into this is quite interesting.”

  “Why?”

  “You need to step back and look at yourself, Jerome. Normally, this whole thing wouldn’t faze you. You’d take the opportunity to be the greedy bottom you are and run with it, then set up this farm boy on Grindr and go your merry way. That you equated the sex with you and Eric tells me there’s something about this guy that’s got you hooked. Eric was the only one who ever managed to snag your heart, and you couldn’t handle that. What says you can handle this Arlo doing something similar?”

  Jerry stiffened as anger raised the hair on his arms. “Wait a minute. Slow down. I’m not about to lose my heart. That’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t have done that with Arlo, because it was, as you said, unprofessional and crossing boundaries. That’s all.”

  “Hmm. You sure?” Voices sounded, and Denise said to someone, “Tell them I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Positive. And I need to go too. Thanks, D. You told me what I needed to hear… about the boundaries and all.”

  “Right. Okay, Jerome. I’m glad we had this little talk. Come to New York and see me, why don’t you?”

  “I’d love to, but I’ve gotta go home for Dad’s fiftieth birthday soiree. Sure you don’t want to come to Houston with me?”

  “Never. Watch your back and don’t let Daddy Dearest get you down, babe. I’ll be seeing you at your graduation.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” Denise hung up in her usual abrupt way.

  Jerry picked at the fabric and took a few yoga breaths to calm down. He didn’t like or agree with what she’d said. Eric didn’t snag Jerry’s heart, for God’s sake. That would require Jerry having a heart. They’d had a fun fling that had gotten too serious too soon, and they’d only been eighteen—way too young for anything lasting. But Eric was one of those people who liked to make things meaningful, and for a while, Jerry had been swept along with Eric’s romantic vision. It helped that the sex was stellar.

  Anyway. Whatever. No fair keeping Arlo to himself. Tomorrow he’d set him up on Grindr and release him to the world.

  Chapter Seven

  THE ALARM went off. Jerry opened his eyes, yawned, and reached for his phone. A text from Arlo stared up at him. Thanks for that second practice session. I needed that. See you soon. ☺ Jerry made a face. He didn’t need any more sweetness from Arlo. He needed to clear his head, do his yoga practice, and then get to the art school. And he still had to get Arlo started on Grindr. Then he’d turn him loose and claim the bet. Jerry closed his eyes.

  He woke up a few hours later, drained. What the hell? He felt his forehead and realized he had a fever. Fury at his body made him breathless. This was not the time to get sick. He needed to go to Houston for Daddy Dearest’s birthday thing, then as soon as he got back, do finals and graduation, and then finally get out of this university. He could not get sick. And that was the last thought he had before sleep dragged him under again.

  What woke him next was thirst and the extreme need to pee. He got up, nearly keeled over, and abruptly sat back on the bed. This was not going according to plan. He was weak and dizzy, so he rose slowly and hobbled to the bathroom, hand against the wall to steady himself.

  After peeing and gulping down a glass of water, Jerry made his way back to bed. He supposed he should go to Student Health—he didn’t even have an aspirin in the apartment—but he couldn’t confront what it would take. He supposed he should let Eric or Tyrone know, but when he grabbed his phone, he saw Arlo’s message again and texted back, I’m sick as a dog and don’t know when we can schedule our next meeting. Be back to you when I’m feeling better.

  Jerry was already closing his eyes when he heard his phone buzz. Probably Arlo responding, but he couldn’t stay awake to check.

  “JERRY.”

  Jerry pulled himself out of a dreamless sleep. Someone was touching his arm and then feeling his forehead. The hand felt cool.

  “Shit, man, you’re burning up. I’ll be right back.”

  The voice was male, but Jerry couldn’t seem to open his eyes to see who it was. Then he didn’t care, because the nameless person put a cool washcloth on his forehead, and it felt glorious. They wiped Jerry’s face and applied the washcloth to his neck.

  He sighed. “You can do that all day,” he croaked and then cleared his throat. He was parched.

  “Oh, so you are awake. Here, sit up so I can give you some water.”

  Gentle hands helped Jerry sit up. By then he was pretty sure who his angel of mercy was, and he opened his eyes to confirm. Arlo stood at the bedside in his Tae Kwon Do get-up, face serious, gaze warm and concerned.

  “Hey there. Have some water.” Jerry grabbed the glass and drank greedily. “You don’t happen to have any ibuprofen or aspirin around, do you?”

  Jerry shook his head and swallowed down the last of his water. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Checking on you. I tried texting you back and calling, but when I didn’t get any more answers, I thought I’d come by. Your roommate let me in.”

  “Well, that’s… neighborly of you, but I’m doing fine. Probably a twenty-four-hour virus that I need to sleep off.”

  Arlo swept a skeptical look over Jerry. “Umm hmm. Sure, you’re doing fine. I’m taking you to Student Health, so get some clothes on.”

  “Oh, no, I don’t need to do that. Thanks for coming by, though.” Jerry closed his eyes and willed Arlo to take the hint and leave.

  “I know you don’t like to admit you need anyone or anything, but right now you need to get your butt to the doctor.”

  Jerry squeezed his eyes shut tighter. “God, you’re annoying. Go away and let me heal myself in peace.”

  He heard steps away from his bed, and he sighed, but before he could pass out, Arlo was back applying a fresh washcloth to his forehead.

  “Please, Jerry. Let me get you to Student Health.”

  A wave of weakness paralyzed Jerry’s resistance. “Oh, okay.” He opened his eyes in time to catch Arlo’s smile. “Stop smiling.”

  Arlo pulled a serious face and set the washcloth down. “Let’s get you dressed, then.”

  “Right. I must smell. I don’t suppose you’d let me take a shower?” Jerry tried to rise from the bed but was prevented by a firm hand to his shoulder.

  “Sit. I’ll find your clothes. And no shower.”

  “Your wish is my command,” Jerry murmured. He was too sick to feel even a flicker of arousal at Arlo’s assertiveness, but he did rouse when Arlo took out the clothes. “Not those—that shirt clashes with those pants.”

  Arlo laughed. “Not too sick to be picky about your outfit, I see. You tell me which shirt.”

  “The blue one right next to it. Yes, that’s it.”

  Arlo gave him the shirt and pants. “You need help getting them on?”

  “No. I need underwear too.” He threw the covers off his naked form, and that movement alone nearly leveled him. “Jeez. I guess I am sick.” A pa
ir of underwear sailed through the air and landed beside him. He bent over to put them on and listed to one side when a wave of dizziness hit him.

  Arlo caught him before he toppled over. “Whoa, there. I’m dressing you.”

  “The indignity,” he quipped, but he let Arlo put on his clothes with his competent hands.

  Arlo’s white-robed shoulder provided a fine place for Jerry to lean his forehead, and he smelled good—like sweat and something sweeter. It was nice to rest there and not think for a moment.

  “HOW MUCH longer?” Arlo stood at the intake desk in Student Health and glared at the receptionist while Jerry slumped on the waiting room chair and shivered uncontrollably, hugging his arms around himself to keep from flying apart. His nose chafed against the paper mask they made him wear.

  “Sorry. We’ve had a run of cases today. Looks like a new wave of the flu around here.”

  “Please ask them to hurry up.”

  She was saved from having to answer a bristling Arlo when someone came out the door with a clipboard. “Jerry Helstrom?”

  “Finally.” Arlo bustled over to Jerry and helped him to his feet. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

  Instead of irritating him, Arlo’s solicitousness gave relief to Jerry’s fuzzy brain. In Arlo’s hands he didn’t have to be on his A game. “Yes.”

  “This way,” the nurse said. She directed her gaze at Arlo. “And you are…?”

  “Arlo Barnes. A close friend.”

  Was he? Jerry supposed he was by now. Denise’s voice buzzed in his brain… blah blah blah boundaries…. Jerry closed his eyes to banish it and leaned on Arlo’s supporting arm. Safe.

  “OH MY God, when she stuck that thing up my nose, I almost hurled.”

  Arlo handed Jerry a pill and a glass of water. “At least they confirmed it right away and got you on Tamiflu.” He watched as Jerry gulped down the medicine. “Finish all your water.”

  “Yes, Mom. Whatever you say.” He noticed Arlo was still in his Tae Kwon Do uniform. “Arlo. Go home. You’ve been here all day.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll stick around for a while.”

  “Don’t you have homework or something? I hate to think of you sitting around, staring at my sick ass.”

  Arlo grinned. “Hey, I like staring at your ass, sick or otherwise.”

  “Cute.” Jerry yawned. “I’m about to conk out.” He reached out his hand. When Arlo took hold of it, Jerry said, “Thanks so much, Arlo. I mean that.”

  Arlo’s face softened. “Any time, Jerry. I mean that. I think I’ll go change clothes and grab some books to bring back here. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “You’re an angel.” Jerry’s eyes closed in spite of himself, and he drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  JERRY LAY on Arlo’s sofa and watched him putter around in his small kitchen. They’d decamped to Arlo’s the day after Jerry’s flu was diagnosed, and he had to admit the quiet apartment was much better for recuperating than his was with his messy roommates clattering about. Three days on Tamiflu and Jerry was almost beginning to feel human again.

  “What are you making? It smells wonderful. I must be recovering my appetite, because suddenly I’m famished.”

  “It’s my super-special homemade enchiladas. I’m making ’em mild to not overtax your stomach.”

  “‘Overtax,’ eh? You’re too cute. Did your mom teach you to cook enchiladas?”

  “Yep.”

  Jerry sat up on his elbows before dizziness forced him flat again. “And what’s she like, your mother?”

  Arlo laughed. “She’s kind of like a whirlwind when she gets started on something. She and my sister have that in common. They’ll run right over you if you make the mistake of standing in their way.”

  “Is your sister older or younger?”

  “Older. Her name is Bonnie, short for Bonita.”

  “Any other siblings?” It felt comfy hanging out and quizzing Arlo about his life. Arlo didn’t seem to mind.

  “No. Just us two.”

  “Where’d Arlo come from?”

  “My parents loved that record by Arlo Guthrie, Alice’s Restaurant.”

  “That’s funny.” More spicy aromas wafted by. “Mmm, it’s smelling better and better.” He smiled. He could get used to lying on Arlo’s sofa and letting Arlo cook good food for him. “I have an older sister too—Denise. She’s a powerhouse business exec in New York City. And no, I never make the mistake of standing in her way.”

  “She must be a powerhouse if she can bowl you over.”

  “Why do you say that?” Jerry tensed, ready to defend himself.

  “You’re—you don’t put up with any shit. Right?”

  “True.”

  “And that’s cool.”

  He relaxed and perched on his elbows again to watch Arlo. “Really? I know I can be a real bitch at times.”

  Arlo poured water into a glass and brought it over. “Here. Keep hydrating.” He helped him sit up and then sat on the coffee table to watch him drink. “I don’t see it as bitchiness. I see it as you knowing what you want. Or, um… having certain standards and not settling for less. And not caring who you piss off for insisting that things be excellent.”

  Jerry’s throat tightened at the unexpected praise, and he had to force down his last sip of water. “Yes, well, it’s earned me a few enemies, but I don’t know any other way to be.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it. I bet you needed lots of strength growing up gay in Texas.”

  “You can say that again.” Jerry uttered a mirthless chuckle.

  “When did you come out?”

  “My dear, I’ve never not been out.”

  Arlo laughed.

  “Believe me, I’ve been staring down homophobes since I was in grade school. I was a flaming queen straight out of the womb.” He gave Arlo his glass to set on the coffee table. “Although I officially came out—as in said ‘I’m gay, motherfuckers’—in sixth grade.”

  “And your family? How were they?”

  “Predictable. After trying to toughen me up, Dad decided I was a lost cause and basically ignored the whole thing. Mom and Denise were always accepting.”

  Arlo nodded and fixed him with thoughtful eyes.

  “What about you?” Jerry asked.

  “I knew real young. And it didn’t seem like a big deal to my folks. We have some gay animals on the farm and—”

  “What?”

  “Oh, yes. Animals can exhibit same-sex behaviors. We had this pair of goats, both male, who were really into each other. And our dairy cows are all female, so….” Arlo gave a nonchalant shrug.

  Jerry fell against the couch pillows and laughed. “Queer farm animals? Oh my God.”

  “Yes,” Arlo said solemnly, a twinkle in his eyes. “Lesbian dairy cows are a thing.”

  “You are something else, Arlo Barnes.”

  A ding came from the kitchen. “Time to eat. You want to stay on the sofa and I’ll bring you a plate?”

  “No, I’m pretty sure I can make it to the table from here.”

  They settled at the table with plates of enchiladas.

  “These are amazing.”

  “Thanks.” Arlo seemed pensive.

  “What’s up?”

  “You know how we were talking about you and your sister being intense?” Arlo asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’d like to get some of that intensity. I mean, I have it with the Tae Kwon Do.”

  “Clearly. You couldn’t have become a black belt without it. So, where don’t you bring that same focus?”

  “With school.” Arlo finished scarfing down his enchilada and helped himself to another. “I don’t want to be a business major. I could care less about numbers and economics.”

  “Why are you doing it, then?” Jerry took a last bite and set down his fork. “I’m already stuffed. Delicious.”

  “Thanks. I’m doing it to help my dad out. You know, for when I run the farm.”

 
“Ah, yes. The farm. And one look at your face tells me how excited you are at the prospect.”

  Jerry hated how Arlo’s expression became set and determined, and not in a good way, when he talked about it—as though he were marching into battle and facing a certain death but doing it anyway. “Humor me here, Arlo. If you could do anything with your life, what would you want to do?”

  His answer was prompt. He’d obviously already thought it out. “Open a fitness studio that would include martial arts but also massage and other bodywork options.”

  “Huh. Yes. That sounds perfect for you. And the business classes are totally relevant for that.”

  “But that’s not happening.”

  “Why not? Isn’t there someone else who can run the farm? Why does it have to be you?”

  “There’s no one else.”

  “What about Bonnie?”

  “She’s… I don’t know. She’s worked on the farm all her life like the rest of us. But she’s just gotten married to a great guy. Leon. And I can’t see them wanting to be stuck with the farm.”

  “Have you talked to your father about this?”

  “About what?”

  “About not wanting to take over the farm?”

  Arlo’s face grew flushed. “Could we please stop talking about this? My dad is sick. He needs me there. If I don’t do it, he’ll probably lose the farm. What I really should do is drop out after this year and just get to work.”

  “Will you?”

  “Probably not.” He sighed and pushed his plate away. “My mom would kill me, and Dad wouldn’t be happy about it. They want me to finish my education.”

  “When was the last time you talked to your parents about the plan for you to take over?”

  Arlo’s shoulders slumped as he poured Jerry another glass of water. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about it. Like, my dad has said stuff in passing, about when I’m running the farm.” He pressed his lips together and frowned. “But that… he hasn’t done that for a long time.”