Jack

by A M Snead

  “Yeah,” Derek murmured. “I noticed that at dinner. They’re never withdrawn like this from the rest of us.”

  “They aren’t the only ones acting odd,” Lucas said quietly and nodded discreetly toward Bailey who stood closer to the table, arms crossed. He appeared to be watching the game, but upon closer inspection, one could see his stare was distant, looking through the boys. Now and then he would focus and cast a quick glance at the twins.

  “Bailey won’t tell you what’s wrong?” Derek asked doubtfully. “That don’t sound like him.”

  “I don’t know,” Lucas said. “He started asking if any of the guys here were into BDSM. Then came up with some story about why he was asking, but it didn’t really make sense to me.”

  “BDSM?” Derek frowned. “Bailey is into that?”

  “No.” Lucas shook his head. “That’s just it. He isn’t.”

  Jack leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Do you see the way he keeps looking at the twins?” Jack murmured. “Do you think he knows what’s going on with them? Maybe that’s why he’s acting oddly.”

  “No,” Lucas said quietly, frowning. “If something was wrong with Mickey and Marcus, and Bailey knew about it—he would tell me. He knows what those boys mean to me. To all of us.”

  Watching Bailey and the twins, though…Jack wasn’t convinced. Jack didn’t know Bailey very well, but he believed him to be a standup guy. If he knew something and wasn’t telling—then he had a good reason for keeping quiet.

  ♥

  It surprised Scotty how much he was looking forward to something as simple as a game of checkers. Of course, maybe it wasn’t so much the game itself…but the company. It had been a while since he and Gideon had done anything together, just the two of them. He’d thought that Gideon didn’t want to spend time with him anymore. That maybe he just wished Scotty would go away. But then at dinner…

  Maybe Gideon really did still care.

  The weight of the pocketknife felt extra heavy all of a sudden and Scotty tugged it from his pocket. He’d washed the blood off, but could still “see” it, still smell it. And he felt again as the man directed the blade to Scotty’s thigh and helped him cut himself.

  People who love you, Scotty…they help you. They don’t hurt you.

  Scotty trembled as Mickey’s words floated in his head and he stared at the knife. What would Gideon do if he told him the truth…about everything? Would he really help him? Or just send him away and not think about him anymore?

  The bedroom door opened quietly then closed with discretion. Scotty stiffened, his back to the newcomer. The knife squeezed in his fist as his hand shook a little.

  “Going somewhere?” the man spoke low, his voice stationary as he remained in front of the door.

  Scotty cleared his throat. “Gideon, he…” He swallowed thickly. “He asked me to play a game of checkers with him.”

  The low chuckle lacked humor. “And you believe he really wants to just spend time with you and play a game like a couple of buddies, huh?”

  Scotty frowned and turned around slowly. “What…what do you mean?”

  The man stared at him and Scotty felt detested by him. Though he tried to believe the man loved him…sometimes it seemed more as if the guy hated him. Or resented him. But why? “Maybe Mickey tattled to him and he wants to pump you for details.” He smiled unpleasantly. “Or maybe he just wants to pump you. Period.”

  Scotty’s face pinched. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Yeah?” The man smirked. “You really think he can stand there and watch you guys fuck each other, and not want to be in the mix as well? I see him. And he’s as hard as everyone else on the set.”

  Uncomfortable with this topic of conversation, Scotty shifted focus. “Mickey didn’t tell him. He didn’t tell anyone.”

  The man’s eyebrow slid up slowly. “Even Bailey?”

  His breath catching, Scotty frowned uncertainly. “How did you know he even spoke to…” He swallowed hard and shook his head. “No. He didn’t tell Bailey anything.”

  “I’m not sure I’m convinced of that.”

  “He didn’t!” Scotty choked. “Just…just leave them alone.”

  The man walked over and cupped the side of Scotty’s neck, fingers gripping firmly. “If I find out that you’re covering for him, hiding things from me…” He squeezed his neck until Scotty whimpered and tears sprang up. “I might just make you watch what I do to both your little twins.”

  “Stop…” Scotty choked on a sob as the man’s fingers gouged his neck. “You’re…crazy.”

  Laughing low, the man released him. “You know this and still you’re in love with me…so what does that make you?”

  “I’m not,” Scotty cried. “I’m not in love with you…you’re…you’re a bad person…I don’t like you anymore.”

  “So…what?” The man shrugged. “You want me to go away? Just like that?”

  Scotty trembled. “Yes.”

  The man smiled and slid his fingers through Scotty’s hair, gripping his head. “I don’t believe you, baby,” he murmured and brushed his lips across Scotty’s mouth. “I think what you really want right now…” He kissed him lightly. “…is for me to assure you that I love you…” He kissed him more deeply, with a tender passion. “…and then prove it to you by making love to you.”

  Scotty was shaking, the sudden shift in the man confusing his senses.

  “You don’t have what it takes to make me leave, Scotty,” he whispered and swirled his tongue inside Scotty’s mouth. “To do so…you have to truly want me to go.” He moved Scotty to the bed and laid him down. “And you don’t. Because I’m the only one who ever really loved you, and you know it. You need to be loved, Scotty. And you know that no one else will ever love you. If you walk away from me…” He unbuttoned Scotty’s pants and unzipped him then leaned down and kissed his lower stomach. “…you’ll be alone for the rest of your life.”

  Warm tears slipped from Scotty’s eyes as the man undressed him. How was it he both loved and hated this man…all with the same heart?

  He’ll never let you go. He’s gonna hurt Mickey and Marcus…and go after Jack…and there’s nothing you can do to stop him. You’re too weak.

  50 “The Rebel Heart”

  Jack told himself he was ready. He’d spent most of the night awake and psyching himself up for this. The twins hadn’t invited him to spend another night with them, though he thought they’d welcome him, they clearly had something of their own to deal with. So, he had gone to bed alone, in his own room—and tried to ignore the fact that he was sleeping in the very bed that he and Garrett had fucked in just a few nights ago. And not just fucked—but bonded intimately. Or so he’d thought.

  The assumption couldn’t have been more wrong.

  But he didn’t care. He didn’t. Jack hadn’t known the guy long enough to truly care either way. He was just a fuck. A damn good fuck but still just a fuck. It was irrational to even consider that he might have had real feelings for Garrett.

  Love at first sight, little brother. It happens.

  Jill had been a hopeless romantic. Jack was not. He had witnessed her “fairy-tale” romance shatter, her Prince Charming pull a reverse transformation and turn into a slimy frog and crawl away. Happily ever after was not a concept he could grasp. Nor did he wish to. He liked his casual, sexual, fun relationship with Gideon’s other boys. That is what he’d come here for. Not this shit with Garrett.

  So, he would prove today—once and for all to Garrett and everyone else—that their little sexual encounter meant nothing. Jack was a professional and he would perform like one, the identity of his co-star being irrelevant.

  Jack sat on the edge of his bed, his heel tapping against the floor. He raked his fingers through his hair and did his damnedest to deny he was anxious and nervous. The bureau pulled at his eyes like a magnet and he stared at the drawer that housed the box of hearts. After yesterday’s message, he was stalling taking out
another paper heart. He had this uneasy feeling that Jill had teamed up with God and they were out to make him acknowledge reality in a way that could very well disrupt his pleasantly sexual co-existence with the other boys.

  He exhaled heavily and shoved his hands through his hair again, then glanced up when someone knocked at his door and opened it hesitantly before he even spoke.

  Marcus peered in tentatively. “Jack?”

  The boy could brighten any moment. Jack smiled and straightened. “Hey, beautiful. Come in.”

  Marcus slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind him.

  “Where’s Mickey?” Jack glanced past him. It was a very rare occasion to see them apart from each other.

  “Asleep,” Marcus said quietly, nearly in a whisper as if he might wake Mickey even from Jack’s room.

  Jack patted the mattress beside him and Marcus came over and sat down. “Everything okay?” Jack asked.

  Marcus shrugged and picked at his pant leg. “Why didn’t you stay with us last night?”

  Smiling, Jack wrapped his arm around Marcus. “I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”

  “You could never,” Marcus whispered and looked at him. A thin film of tears glossed the boy’s eyes.

  “Marcus.” Jack frowned and rubbed his hand over the young man’s hair. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  His tears thickened, and he laid his head on Jack’s shoulder. “I don’t know.” He trembled. “It’s Mickey…he won’t tell me.” He lifted his head. Tears collected on his long lashes, ready to break and slide down his cheeks. “Do you think that he’s…that he’s mad at me?”

  Jack hugged him and kissed his hair. “No, baby, I’m sure that isn’t it.” Jack pressed his lips to his head. Last night, in the rec room, Mickey hadn’t appeared upset with Marcus, but rather had been clinging to him. He raised Marcus’ face and wiped away the tears that had escaped. “I have to do a shoot in just a short bit, but when I’m done I’ll talk to Mickey if you want me to.” The boy nodded, and Jack kissed him softly on the lips. “Until then, if you need someone to talk to or hang out with, Lucas and Bailey will be around.”

  Clearing his throat, Marcus straightened and wiped his face. “Do you think I’m a cry baby?”

  Jack laughed softly. “What?”

  Marcus shrugged and looked at his hands. “Getting so upset about this?”

  “Hey,” Jack murmured and hugged him again. “You’re not a cry baby. You and Mickey have a very special relationship, and it’s going to hurt when it feels like it’s being disrupted. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, but it’s understandable you being upset.”

  Marcus sniffed and wiped his face again. “Thank you, Jack.” He smiled, eyes glossy. “I’m really glad you came here.”

  “So am I,” Jack said softly and kissed his warm cheek. “Just meeting you and Mickey makes it worth it.”

  Silence settled over Marcus for a moment as he leaned against Jack. Then he whispered, “Do you think you’ll ever be friends with Garrett again? I liked it when you guys were friends.”

  Jack was caught unaware by the ache that squeezed his chest and hurt his heart. “I guess you’ll have to ask Garrett about that,” Jack murmured, a strain to his voice.

  “Why?”

  The lump was there in his throat before he even felt it form. “Because he was the one who threw it all away.”

  ♥

  A soft sigh slipped out between Mickey’s lips, sleep weighing his eyes down. He reached for Marcus, needing to feel the warmth of his body so close and…safe. His hand touched empty bed, bare sheet and his eyes snapped open, a rush of panic surging through him. He bolted up in bed. “Marcus?”

  Morning light poured through the window. The bedroom was empty.

  “Marcus!” Mickey flung the blankets off and scrambled out of bed, heart pounding. He knew he was surely overreacting. Marcus was fine. He was. But it wasn’t like Marcus to get up and leave the room without him. They had their morning routine of showering, dressing, and then emerging out into the house together. Almost every morning, the same schedule. It was their thing. So, where the fuck was Marcus now?

  Mickey forced himself to stop and breathe, willing his pulse to calm. It didn’t. He had locked the door last night, so if Marcus was gone, he left of his own free will. Or he unsuspectingly opened the door to the wrong person.

  “Stop it!” Mickey hissed, throat tight. He was being irrational. No one could just walk in and take Marcus without anyone seeing. His mind went wild with dark “possibilities”; what if they tricked him into going with them—

  The door opened, and Mickey spun around. Marcus halted halfway into the room, startled to see Mickey standing in the middle of the floor—butt naked and wild-eyed with panic. “Mickey…?”

  Practically diving on him, Mickey squeezed him in his arms, hands clutching his back. He buried his face in Marcus’ neck and shuddered with relief, a sob sticking in his throat. “Where were you?” Mickey choked. “Why did you leave?”

  “I just…” Marcus hugged him, hesitation and uncertainty in his touch, his voice. “I went to talk to Jack for a minute. I was coming right back.”

  Mickey squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to control his emotions. He’d already let too much show after coming back from the woods. Marcus knew something was wrong and the worry showed in his eyes. He sniffed and cleared his throat then kissed Marcus’ neck and eased up on his desperate embrace. “I’m sorry,” Mickey whispered. “I didn’t mean to freak out. I…I had a bad dream, that someone…” His lips tightened, and tears filled his eyes. He couldn’t stop his arms from squeezing again. “…that someone was trying to hurt you. And when I woke up…and you weren’t here…it just scared me for a minute.”

  “I’m here,” Marcus said softly, sweetly, and held Mickey, comforting him. “I’m okay. No one is trying to hurt me. It was just a bad dream.”

  Mickey stared at the bedroom door over Marcus’ shoulder. The room blurred and distorted as he battled the need to rush over and lock it. Barricade it.

  It was just a bad dream.

  Sometimes bad dreams came true.

  ♥

  Guilt poked at Jack when he’d tried to leave the bedroom without dipping into the heart box. He was pretty sure that Jill had been counting on that, at least in part, to keep him reading her requests. She’d known Jack well enough to foresee his eventual lapse in completing the daily tasks. But he loved her more than life and that was her leverage. It always would be.

  So, Jack retrieved a paper heart, considered waiting until after the shoot to read it, but felt Jill breathing down his neck, urging him to read it immediately. He did as she wanted—as had always been his way.

  Ten minutes later, when he entered the studio room, he was wishing that he had ignored her prodding and waited until later to read the heart. This was not the day for this particular task, if he was to follow it as Jill had intended. And if he didn’t…what was the point of even reading it? Despite all his denials, he understood the potential risk nonetheless.

  The paper heart slid anxiously back and forth between his fingertips as he stepped through the studio doorway. He paused and looked around. The overhead lights were off and the area around the bed had been set up like a bedroom—bureau, nightstands, with bedside lamps emanating a soft glow. On each stand was placed a short, thick red candle, currently unlit. Heavy drapes were pulled across the tall, main windows to help create the illusion of night, or so Jack assumed.

  The cameras were set up, but the room appeared deserted at the moment. Jack was a little early, though not by much. He walked around the cameras toward the bed, then stopped short and sudden when he spotted Garrett sitting on the opposite side of the bed, facing away from Jack. His elbows dug into his knees and his head rested in his hands. The guy drew in a breath that sounded shaky…thick.

  Jack tried to swallow the knot in his throat before he was forced to acknowledge it, but it was too late. Garrett had been adamant about
being fine with this scene. He’d made a point of telling Jack that the kiss in Gideon’s office hadn’t meant shit. So, what was his deal now?

  Staring at him, Jack experienced a sudden twinge of sympathy that he didn’t understand. Not one fucking bit. Why should he feel sorry for the man? Releasing a slow, silent breath, Jack looked down at the heart in his hand. He unfolded it and again read the request that Jill had lovingly written down while taking some of the last breaths of her life.

  “Listen to your heart.”

  There was surely a conspiracy going on “upstairs.”

  Jack folded the paper heart and slipped it into his pocket, then quietly cleared his throat to alert Garrett of his presence.

  The guy flinched, his head jerking around. When he saw Jack, he looked away, cleared his throat, and rubbed a quick hand over his face. Jack expected him to say something, but he remained silent.

  Jack walked slowly around the end of the bed, his heart fluttering wildly until he could hardly breathe. “Hey…” He swallowed a couple times when his voice shook. “Can we”—he shrugged—“talk for a minute?”

  “Whatever,” Garrett mumbled without looking at him.

  “Look,” Jack sighed. “Since we’re going to be working together…like this…maybe we could just call a truce or something. I just want to forget about it, all right? Whatever reason you did what you did…it’s over with. I don’t want to waste energy being pissed at you. I just want to let it go—”

  “Pissed at me?” Garrett was on his feet and in Jack’s face so quickly that Jack took an unsteady step back, startled. “You fucking little hypocrite.”

  Jack stared at him, wide-eyed and flustered, at a total loss for words.

  “We’ll do our jobs,” Garrett ground out between clenched teeth, his finger jabbed in Jack’s face. “But off camera”—his facial muscles twitched—“you can forget you fucking know me. And I’ll do the same. Got it?”

  Jack slid his tongue over his lower lip and swallowed thickly, the lump swelling bigger, beginning to choke him. Garrett’s face blurred a little and he was thankful for the dim lights, but looked away before he could incriminate himself. “Yeah,” he whispered tightly, his chest suddenly hurting as if the guy had just punched him full force. “Whatever.”