by Sam LaRose
“Okay,” he heard Mora agree. “If that’s what you want, we’ll go.”
The voices got further away as two firm and calloused hands pressed around his.
“Hey,” the voice was low. Everyone else seemed distracted; the arguing was going on again. “We’re all really worried about you. Can you hear me?” Tyler’s hands loosened slightly. Dylan wanted nothing more than to squeeze, but his fingers refused to cooperate. “Maybe it’s better if you can’t.” Dylan felt Tyler press his lips to the tips of his fingers.
There was another burst of air and a beep. Tyler sighed, releasing his hands. He reached up instead, adjusting the soft plastic that seemed to be pressing against his nostrils.
“Is that better?” He laced their fingers again. There were a few more beats of silence. “Fuck, Dylan, I don’t even know if you’d want me here.” Dylan tried, and failed, again to squeeze his hand. Instead, Tyler sighed, pulling away from him.
He felt the others, though he wasn’t sure who, come over and touch his arm. His shoulder. Someone brushed his hair off his forehead. Voices were hazy again as he dropped off. It wasn’t really sleep. It didn’t feel restful and the passage of time was confusing.
When Dylan regained proper consciousness, he was first aware of the throbbing in his head. Then the layer of fuzz that seemed to be coating his tongue, throat, and roof of his mouth. The next was the weight across his chest and pressed against his side. His eyes still refused to open so tried to focus his ears to listen. Mechanical, rhythmic beeping. A fan. The light breathing of whoever was pressed against him in the bed. He jerked; air forced into his nostrils by the breathing tube. He groaned. The body next to him rustled.
“Dylan?” The voice was hazy and felt far away. “Are you awake?”
He hummed, still not able to open his eyes. He tried to focus harder on the voice, but it was exhausting. He tensed at another force of air.
A hand reached up, adjusting the nasal tube. “Dylan, darling, you’re in the hospital.” He groaned realizing the voice was his mother. If she was bothered by the noise, she didn’t show it. She reached down, taking his hand in hers. “Squeeze if you understand?”
It took him longer than he liked, but he finally gave her a brief squeeze.
“Your friends and Mora were here, but we sent them home. Your Dad is here.” He felt her brush a piece of hair from his forehead. He felt something warm and wet hit his cheek. She reached to brush that away too. He heard her suck in a breath as she pressed her face into his neck. “I’m so sorry, darling.” He felt her shudder as more hot tears fell against his skin. He tried to squeeze her hand again, but she’d pulled away to wrap her arm around his chest again. He felt himself drift off again to the tremor of her silent tears.
***
Jordan, Tyler, and Mora were all exhausted by the time they returned to the apartment building. Jordan had convinced the others to go home once Peter and Martha had arrived. David stayed as security detail to the senator and to check-in with the bodyguard that Kyle had attempted to waylay. David had already been in route to the hospital by the time Kyle even remembered his promise to text the guy. He’d apologized profusely to David. Mora had tried to insist on staying when Peter and Martha told her to go home.
“He’ll never take me seriously as a member of the family if I’m not here,” she said. “You know he thinks you’re trying to replace him with me.”
“Mora, that isn’t true,” Peter retorted. “You know it and so does he.”
“I do, but we knew that my adoption was a weird situation,” Mora insisted. “Hell, even I wonder if it was a good idea sometimes.”
“Mora, you’re my child.” Martha had placed her hands on her shoulders, staring intently into her face. “You may have come into my life in a late and wayward fashion, but I love you every bit as I do my son. So, fuck what everyone else thinks.”
Peter gave her a teasing shrug, “Yeah, you’re all right.” He reached over, tousling her hair. “Go on home and get some sleep. You can’t do anything here except sit in an uncomfortable chair until morning.”
She hadn’t liked it, but she’d agreed. The three of them were the last to leave the hospital.
“He’s going to be fine,” Jordan reminded her as they stepped into the lobby of the apartment building. “They said he’ll probably wake up tomorrow and feel like a bad hang-over.”
“Probably,” Mora repeated. “He has a possible concussion, bruises from the fall, and severe dehydration. Not to mention the fact that his heart—”
“Mora, he’s going to be fine,” Jordan repeated. “Dylan is—”
He stopped talking as Tyler stopped walking. A familiar man was pacing near the elevator. An extremely large cat on a leash was perched on one of the benches, swishing its tail.
“Benjamin.” He said the name like it tasted bad in his mouth. “What are you doing here?”
Benjamin looked up at the group, placing them immediately. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” he promised. “I came to talk to Dylan, but I can’t seem to make myself go upstairs.”
“Dylan isn’t here,” Mora said. “He’s in the hospital.”
Benjamin’s knuckles gripped the leash a little tighter. “Hospital?”
“Yeah,” Tyler stepped closer to him, “after he left you last week, he went and drowned himself in a bottle. Several bottles, from the sound of it. Tonight, he went for his old stand-by, in pill-form.”
“You’re blaming me?” Benjamin raised an eyebrow. “What about the fact that you’ve been harassing him for—”
“Harassing him? I admit we got into an argument and I kissed him. That was stupid of me. Before then, I hadn’t seen him since we left on our summer tour. So, fuckin’ excuse me. You, on the other hand, have been a paid stalker for six months? Or is prostitute more appropriate?”
Benjamin nodded slowly. “I get it. You think I was paid to sleep with him, and that makes me a sex worker. Not that it is any of your business, but I made my own decision to sleep with Dylan. It had nothing to do with getting paid. I wasn’t, technically, on the clock any of the times that we did anything sexual. Including the first time, when he was the one who initiated in an exchange of information. That makes both of us guilty of prostitution.”
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Tyler asked. He took another step closer.
“Smart? No. Well informed, yes.” Benjamin straightened his shoulders, turning on the intimidation.
“Stop it.” Mora pushed between the two of them. “Benjamin, this is not the time.”
Benjamin stepped back, relaxing his stance. “Sorry, Mx. Stephens. I wouldn’t dream of causing trouble in your building.”
“Just Mora is fine. You don’t work for the Montgomery’s anymore, remember?”
There was a twitch of discomfort. “Right.”
“Dylan should, if all goes well, be released tomorrow afternoon. You can try and call him, okay?” She suggested.
“I’ve tried texting. He isn’t answering me.” Benjamin told her.
“He’s still upset,” Jordan offered. “Obviously.”
Benjamin nodded. He gave a tug on the leash and Goliath jumped down from the bench. He stretched his paws out in front of him before trotting over to brush against Benjamin’s legs. “Sorry to disturb.”
“Wait,” Tyler called him back. “I can’t let you go without saying one thing.”
“Yeah?” Benjamin turned back to him, unimpressed.
Tyler’s fist connected with the man’s jaw.
“That’s for what you did to Dylan.” Tyler patted him on the shoulder. “I might be an asshole sometimes, but I know where the lines are drawn. You don’t even seem to realize there are lines.” He looked down at Goliath, who didn’t seem perturbed by his human being hurt. “Cute cat.”
Jordan swore under his breath. He grabbed Tyler by the shoulder, getting between the two of them before Benjamin could consider retaliating. Not that the man looked like he was going to. Jordan
pushed Tyler toward the elevator.
“Go upstairs. Now.”
Tyler held his hands up, walking backwards to the elevator. Mora was holding the door, ushering him inside. “I’m not apologizing. He deserved it.”
Jordan swore again, turning back toward Benjamin and Goliath. “Are you all right? All your teeth are still in place?”
“I’ve been punched a lot harder by guys a lot bigger,” Benjamin replied. He winced, touching his jaw. “It’ll sting for a bit, but I’ll be fine until I get home.”
“Did you walk over?”
“Goliath likes his midnight strolls. We just ended up here.”
“Will you let me drive you back to your place? It’s getting late, and while you can take care of yourself, you’re not exactly intimidating, walking around with a cat. Even if he is incredibly large. Cripes.”
“He’s a Maine Coon,” Benjamin sounded exasperated. He was truly tired of having to explain. “His size is a trait of the breed.”
“Dylan mentioned it, but holy shit,” Jordan crouched down, holding a hand out toward Goliath. Goliath sniffled at him politely before accepting some gentle ear scritches. After a moment, he straightened again. “Please, letting me drive you home is the least I can do after my best friend hit you.”
Benjamin finally nodded. “I’d appreciate it. He’s getting tired and is bound to start getting vocal any second.” He stooped down, scooping Goliath up effortlessly. A rumble sounded and it took Jordan a second to realize it came from the cat.
“This way.” Jordan beckoned him toward the elevator. They took it down to the sublevel garage. Goliath got comfortable in the backseat after Benjamin clicked seatbelt through the end of the leash.
The car was silent, except for Benjamin’s directions. When they stopped at a set of lights, he cleared his throat.
“What happened tonight? If you don’t mind telling me.”
Jordan shrugged. “I don’t know what happened. We were at the Chop Shop. He was talking to my boyfriend while I grabbed drinks. When I came back he went to the bathroom. I guess he was gone for an unusually long amount of time, but he does that sometimes.”
“What do you mean?”
“He gets overwhelmed and excuses himself to go pull himself together. Sometimes he’s trying to get a handle on a panic attack. I assume that played into what happened.” Jordan’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. The anxiety of watching Dylan hit the ground and stop breathing rushed back to him.
“You don’t have to tell me about it, if you don’t want to,” Benjamin said. “I’ve been worried about him since he left my place last week. He’s ignoring my texts. I even tried calling the Foundation, but they would only take a message.”
“I’ve had to go over it four or five times now. The cops got called, because of the Ecstasy. If it even was Ecstasy.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not a saint. Ty, Heath, and I did stupid shit when we were in high school, but none of us ever ended up in the hospital.”
“Accidents happen. The doctors said he’s going to be fine, right?”
“They think so. He was still having trouble breathing on his own. They were going to intubate him, but they went with a non-invasive method? I didn’t really understand. He was still unconscious when we left, but the Montgomery’s asked us to leave.” His fingers started tapping against the steering wheel. “I didn’t want to. None of us did.” He gave a brief glance at Benjamin. “How long would you have loitered in the lobby? You would have gone up to an empty apartment if we hadn’t come back when we did.”
“If you hadn’t come back, I would have avoided being punched.” Benjamin lifted a hand to his cheek. “Mr. Norse is lucky I have self-restraint.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second.”
“Turn left at the next stop light. Wherever you can find a space to let us out on the block is fine,” Benjamin directed.
It didn’t take long for Jordan to pull the car into a space along the sidewalk on the well-lit block. “Is here okay?”
“Here is great,” Benjamin assured him. “Thanks for the ride and for telling me about what happened.” He paused, his hand on the door latch. “You can say no, but would you give me an update tomorrow? Let me know he woke up at least.”
Jordan leaned back against the headrest. “You know what you did to him was bullshit, right?”
“He didn’t let me explain,” Benjamin started.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jordan cut him off. “You should have been upfront with him from the start about how long and what kind of work you were doing for his parents.”
“It’s easy to say that in retrospect. I had a contract to uphold. There were certain things I couldn’t say. I wanted to do my job and...” he faltered. “I didn’t expect feelings to get involved.”
In the back seat, Goliath emitted a sharp meow. He was evidently done with the talking and wanted out of the car. Benjamin pulled the door handle and started to slide out of the vehicle.
“I can’t do anything to change or make up for what I did, except apologize. If I’d kept up the lie and stuck to the contract, maybe tonight wouldn’t have happened. Or, maybe it was inevitable. We’ll never really know.” He closed the passenger side door and opened the back door. He carefully unclicked the seatbelt, wrapping the leash around his wrist. Goliath butted him in the chin with his head, letting himself be picked up again.
“Hold on.” Jordan leaned forward, opening the glove box. He pulled out a notepad and pen. He scribbled a series of numbers on it before handing it to Benjamin. “Text me tomorrow afternoon and I’ll give you an update. When he’s up for it, I’ll see if I can get Dylan to give you the chance to explain more. Or, at least let you give him a proper apology.”
“I appreciate it.” Benjamin glanced at the paper before tucking it into his pocket. “It’s late. You better get back and get some sleep. You’ve had a long night.” He stepped up onto the sidewalk. Goliath leapt from his hands, ready to head to bed himself. “Drive safe.”
Jordan gave him a nod before the back door closed again. He watched the two figures walk to a nearby building, taking a set of stairs to a second-floor apartment. He didn’t wait to see which one they entered before he pulled away from the curb to head back to Alphabet City.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“You’re very lucky Jordan was with you last night.”
Dylan had only been discharged for five minutes. After leaving the hospital, he’d been forced into the back seat of a town car. Martha was beside him while Peter took the front passenger seat beside David. They all looked exhausted.
He wasn’t sure if his consciousness earlier had been real. When he’d opened his eyes that morning, Martha had been in a chair next to his bed. Peter had come in shortly after with two cups of coffee. After a lecture from the medical staff, a chat with a police officer, an offer for rehab services, an appointment with a psychologist, and finally a last vitals check, he’d been released.
“You’re also very lucky that the NYPD isn’t pressing any kind of charges.”
“They can’t press charges for something I did to myself and have no proof of,” Dylan scoffed. His head still throbbed from cracking it on the wall and then hitting the ground.
“That’s the lesson you’re taking from this?”
“David, will you pull over somewhere and let me out?” Dylan requested. “I’ll take a taxi home.”
“We’re almost to the apartment,” David replied coolly.
“Then I’ll walk.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Martha insisted. “We’re seeing you back, you’re packing a bag, and you’re coming home.”
“I don’t want to do any of that.”
“You could have died!”
“I didn’t. I stopped breathing. It was the anxiety, not the drugs. It’s not like my heart stopped or anything.”
“You’re perfectly frustrating,” she quipped.
“Why are you acting as if the last week didn’t happen
?” He asked. “Don’t think I’ve ignored your complete silence, Dad.”
In the front seat, Peter shifted uncomfortably. David’s grip on the steering wheel tightened before he reached over, flipping the fan up a notch to move more air into the interior of the vehicle. Tension radiated from everyone.
“Nothing I say is going to make you feel better,” Peter finally replied, “so why bother?”
“You could at least apologize.”
“Would you accept it, if I did?”
“You haven’t given me the opportunity.”
Peter turned around to stare back at his son. “I’m sorry I tried so hard to protect you. You’re being too sensitive.”
“That isn’t an apology. That’s called gaslighting,” Dylan informed him. “It’s a form of abuse.”
Peter swore under his breath, turning back around. “Nothing we do is ever right, is it?”
Dylan didn’t answer. He crossed his arms over his chest. He wanted out of the car. It wasn’t going very fast but a tuck-and-roll wasn’t in the cards with the way his head was pounding. He gritted his teeth as the car went silent.
David pulled the town car into the apartment’s underground garage and came to a stop in a parking space near the elevators.
“Come along,” Martha ushered him toward the door.
“Stop,” Dylan slid away from her. “I am not going home with you. The two of you are the ones who told me to move out and live on my own. So, I’m doing it. I’m sorry you got called to the hospital last night. You’re still my emergency contacts. I’ll change it—”
“Dylan, don’t you dare,” Martha snapped. “I am your mother. There is absolutely no one in this entire city who needs to be informed of your wellbeing before me.”
“There is literally no one I want to be less informed.”
“I’m going to wait outside,” David announced. The door handle clicked as he opened it. “The three of you could use some privacy.”
“Dylan, I don’t think you realize what it means to be cut off.” Peter turned around in his seat again as the door closed behind David. “If that’s what you want, fine. You’ll need to take over the payments of your own credit cards and your rent to start with.”