“Right.”
Talk at the table was easy and comfortable. Lunch was pleasant. Afterward they went back to the living room. The men sat sipping wine. Andrea opted this time for orange juice, and as she listened to the two of them talk about Alan’s war experiences in Afghanistan and his uncertainty as to what he wanted to do before he decided to try his hand at entertaining, up to and including his singing engagement at Palm Springs, California, Andrea was aware of how carefully the brothers continued to sidestep the issues of their youth.
Neither mentioned the early years with their parents or what happened after their grandparents and father died, nor anything about the argument that had driven them so far apart. She wondered if that were in deference to her presence or because they didn’t want to reopen old wounds.
As she listened, Andrea gained a new insight into Ivan. She watched him become completely absorbed in what his brother was saying and her heart leapt as she realized how very much she loved and admired this man she had married.
She was so glad she’d had the talk with Alan before Ivan had joined them, because Alan refrained from any snide remarks and she saw how happy Ivan was as the two of them conversed and laughed like brothers who cared for each other should.
Time flew by. When the grandfather clock in the foyer struck six, Alan said, “Damn, I didn’t realize it was that late. I’ve got to get back to the Spa and get ready for the first show.”
Ivan was struggling with what to say about that, his thoughts in turmoil.
How do I impress upon Alan the fact that he’s stepping into an untenable situation with Cothane, without alienating him again?
“Alan, how would you like to sing in my club? I sure could use a good lounge singer and that way we could come see your shows. It’d be a win-win situation.”
Alan drew a deep breath.
“All right, Ivan, tell me what’s going on between you and Carl Cothane.”
As tempted as she was to stay and hear Ivan’s explanation, Andrea knew she should leave them alone, so she squeezed Ivan’s hand and said, “Think I’ll let you guys talk.”
Andrea shut the door behind her, offering up a silent plea, please let the two of them come to a mutual understanding.
* * *
When Alan stepped inside the limo that Ned had pulled up before the front door, he sat battling with himself.
All of what Ivan had told him made sense. Carl Cothane probably did have an agenda in hiring him and no doubt he was a dangerous man; not one to cross.
God knows, I don’t want to be the cause of Ivan getting into any kind of battle with the man.
Alan tapped on the divider window and Ned powered it down.
“Yessir?”
“What do you know about Carl Cothane?”
Their eyes held in the rearview mirror as Ned said honestly, “I know he’s a backstabbing sonofabitch that won’t do to fool with. I know he’s been after your brother as long as he’s been in town; that he’d do anything to bring him down.”
“What’s your name?”
“Ned.”
“You’re Ivan’s bodyguard as well as his chauffeur, right?
“That’s right. One of them. I’ve been with your brother since he arrived in Vegas.”
“Ned, if I gave you a call, I mean if things go south with Cothane when I quit the Spa, do you think you could come help me out?”
“Be happy to.”
Ned fished out his card and handed it to Alan.
“That’s my cell number.”
“Thanks. Hopefully, I can handle the bastard alone, but if push comes to shove, well, it’s nice to know somebody’s got my back,” Alan said as he stuffed the card in his pocket.
“You got it, Mr. Littlefield.”
“Hey man, call me Alan.”
* * *
Once he’d arrived back at the Spa and began preparing for the next show, Alan’s anxiety grew as he contemplated the outcome of confronting Carl Cothane with his resignation.
Staring at his reflection in the dressing room mirror, Alan’s mind drifted back to the time, after Gary had died, when he had believed he had no reason to go on himself.
But now that I have my brother back in my life and am about to become an uncle, everything seems different. Life suddenly has new meaning, even if it turns out to be too short.
He recalled something his partner Gary had said a couple of years back.
“When life looks dark, just wait ‘til you turn the next corner, man. Might be a rainbow shining there.”
Alan swallowed hard, fighting the emotions.
God, I miss you, Gary.
He downed his daily dose of meds, thinking, given the advances in medicine, he could live a pretty normal life; maybe longer than he thought, especially now that he had a reason to.
His mind drifted back to right after Gary’s death. He recalled how he had entertained the thought of just checking out, maybe buying a gun and eating it, or stepping out in front of a bus.
What he had never considered was not taking the prescribed pills and letting nature take its course, not after seeing the ravages of the disease in its late stage, as he’d seen evidenced in Gary as he’d wasted away.
With a sigh, Alan shivered with that memory.
If Gary hadn’t had that heart problem; if he had taken better care of himself and not just given in to the depression, maybe he could have had years too.
But me? Hell, my heart is strong. And other than being HIV positive, I’m in good health.
Snorting a sarcastic laugh, Alan told his image, “Good one, Littlefield. Now the question is, do I stick around and eventually tell Ivan and Andrea my big secret. Or do I get the hell out of Dodge like I planned and disappear, sparing them the truth?
“I owe them the truth. But for the time being, until I get my nerve up, maybe taking Ivan up on his offer is the perfect solution. Hell, I might even call Mother. Of course, she will no doubt blow me off.”
He’d been living with bitter resentment toward Claudia for so long that now, even though he was seeing things clearly for the first time in years, Alan was finding it hard to let that resentment go.
But seeing Ivan again and really listening to him, he had to admit he was wrong to blame him for choices he made himself. So maybe, in hindsight, he was wrong to blame Claudia like he did; maybe a lot of the fault lay squarely on his own shoulders. For a fact, he knew that was the case in that last fight with Ivan. He had been itching for a fight that night.
Alan shook his head.
I’ve been a stupid fool. Yeah, I can take Ivan up on his offer. I’ll do this show tonight at the Spa, then tell Cothane I’ll have his money for him tomorrow and quit. It’s high time I spent some quality time with my brother and his new family.
Alan left the dressing room feeling relieved, knowing he had made the right decision.
He stood off stage waiting for his cue. When it came, he stepped onto the stage, took his seat on the stool and when the spotlight came on, gave a lack luster performance because his heart just wasn’t in it.
Afterward, he slumped into the chair in his dressing room, tired, his mind still in turmoil.
I’ll stay in Vegas as long as I look and feel all right, and maybe that’ll be a long time.
That thought drifted into the dark oblivion of images of Gary at the last and Alan shuddered.
He did not want Ivan and Andrea to watch that happening to him. If and when he knew the disease was getting the best of him, he definitely would be out of here.
Chapter 27
What Doesn’t Kill You
An enraged Carl Cothane didn’t bother to knock. He stormed into Alan’s dressing room, followed by Albert and Earl, snarling, “That show wasn’t nearly as good as the first one. You acted like dead lice was falling off you, kid. What the hell is wrong?”
Alan exhaled a weary breath. “Sorry about that. Swan songs should be good.”
Carl gave him a narrowed-eyed glare. “And just what
does that mean?”
“Means that I quit, Mr. Cothane. I’ll have your money that I owe you tomorrow.”
Snorting his disgust, Carl said, “So you made nice with big brother, is that what you’re saying? And now you think you’re too good to work for me? We have a contract, kid.”
“I didn’t sign a contract.”
“It was verbal, but just as binding, so you can’t quit.”
“I am quitting.”
“You don’t quit until I tell you you can, punk!”
Alan bristled. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
Carl glanced at Albert and Earl. Earl grabbed Alan before he had time to respond and pinned his arms behind his back, lifting him from the chair. Albert drove his fist into his stomach as Carl gritted, “Looks like we need to have a serious talk about who’s the boss here.”
Wheezing, Alan caught his breath and said, “Okay. You’ve made your point. You can beat the shit out of me. That’s a given, but you can’t make me sing and you can’t make me stay at the Spa.”
“Tell you what. Let’s go to your room and discuss the consequences of your decision in detail. And if you’re thinking to bolt when we get to the lobby, remember that Albert is really good and fast with that stiletto you feel jabbing into your ribs now. He could slice you open, and we could hold you up, walk you out and dump you in the desert without anyone being the wiser.”
Alan winced as he felt the prick of the knife in his side.
“Now you follow along like a good boy, understand? No sudden moves.”
Alan didn’t resist as they marched him through the lobby and into the elevator. When they reached his room, he slid the card key in the slot and the door opened.
“What now?” Alan asked as he was shoved forward.
Carl studied him for a minute, debating on what he should do.
The punk’s right, of course. I can’t make him sing, at least not good enough to draw a crowd. And I can’t force him to stay here. Bluffing that I could take his leaving out on Ivan and his wife wouldn’t work, either.
An idea struck him then and he laughed raucously.
“Sonofabitch! I’ve just decided what to do with you. After we have all finished having our fun, you’re free to run to big brother and spill your guts. In fact, I want you to. It is way pass time me and Littlefield settled things. By God, I will have my revenge on the bastard.”
As Alan met the man’s narrowed eyes, his face turned ashen. His worst fear was confirmed as Carl started unzipping his pants, commanding his goons, “Strip him and bend him over. After I’ve fucked his ass, he’s all yours, boys. I’ve been wantin’ to fuck Littlefield over for years, so the next best thing will be fuckin’ his little brother.”
And to Alan he snarled, “And don’t forget to give Ivan a blow-by-blow description of this night that you will never forget, Littlefield!”
Alan broke loose and bolted for the door. Earl stopped him by outstretching one beefy arm that caught him along his neck, slinging him back and down to the floor.
“You ain’t going nowhere, pretty boy,” Carl sneered. “Not until I have my ounce of ass flesh!” Then he ordered Earl and Albert, “Get him to his feet and strip him, then get him on the bed and hold him there!”
Even though he tried to fight, after a few punches to the midriff and back of the neck that left him groggy, they finally subdued him enough to get his clothes off. They pinioned him, Earl to one side of the bed, Albert to the other, each holding an arm, spread-eagled face down.
Cursing, Alan continued to struggle until they tightened their hold and he felt like his arms were being pulled from their sockets.
Carl removed one of Alan’s shoes. He pulled his sock off, then rolled it up and stuffed it in his mouth.
“Don't want to upset anyone with your yelling and we don’t want any interruptions, do we, boys?” He asked with a salacious laugh. “After I’ve finished, I’ll hold his arm and it’ll be your turn Albert, then you, Earl. I want to save your monstrous cock for last as the ultimate ass encore!”
Gagging on the sock, emitting grunting, guttural screams, Alan lay helpless as Carl approached.
* * *
Alan came back to consciousness slowly. He lay naked on the bed. He didn’t know where he was for a minute before his senses realigned and he realized he was still in his room at the Spa.
He winced with the throbbing pain, gagging again on the sock. He pulled it out and tossed it.
Of all the things he’d experienced in his life, he’d never been gang-banged before. He’d often wondered how the survivors of such an ordeal felt. Now he knew.
Albert and Carl had been normal sized so other than the vile knowledge he was being violated in the worst kind of way, they hadn’t hurt him, but Earl’s cock had been enormous and had torn him entering, soliciting his stifled screams until he had succumbed to the blessed relief of unconscious oblivion.
Groaning, Alan rolled to his side and tried to sit up, but fell back, sick to his stomach with the wrenching pain that skittered up through his abdomen and seemed to end at the throbbing base of his skull. He tried again and felt the sticky evidence of blood seeping out of him as he rolled to his back moaning.
Taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself, he managed to scoot to the edge of the bed and reach down for his pants. He searched in the right hand pocket until he found the card with Ned’s number and, moving slowly and painfully back across the bed toward the phone, punched in the digits.
When Ned answered, he mumbled, “Ned. It’s—it’s Alan.”
“Alan? What’s wrong?”
“Could you—could you come—come pick me up?”
“Sure thing. Will you be downstairs at the front entrance?”
“No. Ned, could you—come to my room and—ah—help me? Room 612.”
Hearing the urgency in Alan’s voice, Ned didn’t ask any more questions.
“Be right there.”
When he’d hung up, Alan pushed upright, gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain as he sat hugging his knees, his tears falling unchecked. Carl Cothane’s words drifted back to him.
“I’ve been wantin’ to fuck Ivan Littlefield over for years, so the next best thing will be fuckin’ his little brother.”
He paled as it dawned on him what Cothane had really meant.
He wants Ivan to storm over enraged so he has an excuse to kill him. Oh God! I can't let that happen.
When he’d pulled himself together, Alan stumbled into the bathroom. He sank to the floor, barely making it to the toilet bowl before throwing up.
Willing himself not to pass out, he managed to get to his feet and start a hot shower, then stood beneath the stinging spray, bracing against the tiled backdrop to keep his balance until the dizziness subsided. He scrubbed every inch of himself vigorously.
Feeling weaker by the minute and afraid he’d pass out again, Alan shut the water off, toweled dry, and then stumbled back into the room. He managed to pull on his boxers and pants, gritting his teeth against the shards of pain. Then he fell back onto the bed, the tears coming again as he lay cursing himself for ever having come to Vegas in the first place.
Dear God, I don’t know what to do.
The only thing he did know was what he could not do. He couldn’t let Ivan get pulled into Carl Cothane’s trap.
He means to kill Ivan and I won’t let that happen!
When Ned arrived, Alan stumbled over and opened the door as soon as he knocked. Another dizzy spell came on and he swayed. Ned caught him and more or less carried him back over to the bed where he laid him down gently, asking, “What the hell happened?”
“Cothane and his two henchmen. They—ah—they raped me, Ned.”
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Ned snarled, as he noticed for the first time the blood on the bedspread.
Alan gripped the lapels of Ned’s jacket, imploring, “Ned, Ivan can’t find out about this. You understand? I thought you could take me to some clinic somewhere and then to a m
otel until I’m feeling better.”
“You need to go to a hospital, man. A ruptured colon can be life threatening.”
“No! No hospital. I don’t think I’ve got a ruptured colon.”
Biting his lip and looking away in embarrassment, Alan said, “I think it’s just a tear at the—ah—entrance. There would have been more blood if it was an internal rupture. And I don’t want this getting out. We can’t let Ivan know, Ned. That’s what Cothane is counting on, Ivan getting mad and storming over here. He’ll kill him. He wants to kill Ivan, Ned, and this was his way of using me as bait to get him in a situation where it will look like self defense. Understand? So whatever you do, leave Ivan in the dark.”
“I don’t think any clinic is going to keep this a secret, Alan. They’ll contact the authorities because that is policy, in cases of—ah—assault.”
“Then no clinic, either. Just get me the hell out of here and take me to a motel somewhere. Maybe stop by a drugstore and get some heavy-duty painkillers and a jar of petroleum jelly. That’s kind of like locking the barn door after the horses are out, but it’ll be soothing,” Alan managed to quip with a lopsided grin that belied his pain.
Ned’s grim expression wiped the forced half smile away and Alan added, “Seriously, Ned, I’ll be all right in a few days. I—ah—I’ve had a small tear before so I know the feeling and I think this—ah—episode tonight just reopened that tear. Right now, I’m just sore as hell. I’m sorry to drag you into this, but I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Don’t worry about that. Are you feeling good enough to finish dressing?”
“Yeah, I think so. Just hand me a shirt from the closet and then, if you don't mind, help me pack everything. And Ned, don’t even tell Ivan you helped me. I mean later, if he asks, because I don’t want him mad at you for not calling him. We both know he has a temper, right? Ivan never had to know anything about this.”
“I don’t usually keep things from the boss, but I think you’re right about this,” Ned agreed. “Mr. Littlefield would want to kill those sons-of-bitches. Hell, I want to kill them!”
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