Giving Chase

by Hill, Jamie

  go." "Good night, Ma'am," Martin called, but she didn't respond. He followed Chase out, closing the door behind him.

  "Fucking buzzkill." Chase slammed his hand on the porch rail as he descended the front steps. "I don't even feel like going out, now." Climbing in the car, he slouched into the seat.

  "Let's not." Martin got in his car and glanced over at Chase. "Why don't we go somewhere and talk? Or we could just go back to my place." He smiled weakly.

  Chase shook his head. "I wouldn't be very good company. I need to relax and unwind."

  "I can help you with that." Martin looked at him. "Or did you have something chemical in mind?"

  "Don't start with me," Chase grumbled. "I told you I've been clean and sober all week. Right now I just need—"

  "To get drunk like your mother? Will that make you feel better?"

  "You don’t know anything, man," Chase snarled. "Don't start with my old lady, either. It's none of your fucking business."

  He raised his voice. "I'm making it my business, because I care about you, you dumb shit."

  "Maybe you're the dumb shit, for caring about me. I've got nothing to offer you."

  Martin grabbed the man's wrist. "You have a lot to offer me. Some of which I've seen, and some I've only imagined. I want to see more, Chase. I want to know all there is to know about you."

  "You got a good look at it tonight!" He motioned toward the house. "That's where I live. That's my dear, sweet mother. Ain't life grand?" "Have you considered getting her some help?" "She doesn’t want help, man. She has what she wants,

  right there. That'll keep her happy for tonight." "I think that's sad." "Boo fucking hoo. Let's get out of here." "Where we going?" He drove, briefly glancing

  sideways. "Your place." Chase shrank into the seat. "Good." He knew if he could get the other man alone,

  they'd find a way to communicate. "I'll warn you, I'm in a fucking rotten mood, and not

  up for any fooling around right now." "I understand. We'll talk, or watch TV. The main thing

  is, we'll be together." Chase looked at him, still sulking. "You're weird." "I'm quirky. You love that about me." "Quirky! Ha!" Chase snorted. Martin glanced over and saw a tiny smile on the man's face. Chase was going to be fine. He was feeling better already. Before long, he'd be feeling great. Martin would see to that.

  Chapter Five

  They stayed up most of the night talking. He avoided discussing Chase's mother, having been shut down twice on that subject when he broached it. He was also told, in no uncertain terms, Chase did not want to discuss the pretty blonde whose framed photo was the same as his tattoo.

  "What about you?" he asked, bringing up a new subject with caution. "What did you want to do with your life?"

  Chase smiled. "You don't think my life's ambition was to work at a cheesy gift shop? They pay better than fast food."

  "I'd hope. Seriously, wasn't there something that interested you? Did you ever want to go to college?"

  "Who could afford it? My old man split when I was a baby, and my stepfather wasn't gonna spend his money educating a 'queer little faggot', as he liked to call me."

  "Nice." He smiled grimly. No wonder Chase had self esteem issues. "If you could afford it, was there anything you wanted to do?"

  "I don't know." Chase stared at the ceiling. "I've always liked drawing. I used to think about some kind of commercial art course. Drawing storyboards, or designing video games, stuff like that."

  "Hey, there's a school for that very thing, close to where I live. I'm sure there are technical colleges, too." "Free ones?" "Oh, sure." He chuckled. "But listen, I put myself through college with student loans. I bet they offer those in the fine state of Washington."

  "Maybe so." Chase closed his eyes, effectively cutting off the conversation.

  Martin treaded lightly. He truly cared about the other man already, and only wanted to help him. Eleven tattoos, and who knew how many piercings, were an indication of Chase's self-esteem troubles. The evil stepfather added another piece to the puzzle. Martin saw past the exterior, and knew there was so much more to the man. He wanted Chase to feel as good about himself as Martin felt, simply looking at him.

  No amount of talk in one night could accomplish that, and he knew it. When they finally made love in the early light of dawn, Martin was determined to prove how he felt. His touch was tender, his movements gentle and soothing. Their passion soared as high as ever, but that time with a smooth, calmness they hadn't previously experienced.

  They lay face to face, legs intertwined, as Martin pumped both their cocks using one hand. With the other, he clasped Chase's neck and kissed him hungrily. The friction of their shafts rubbing together was exquisite, and both men squirmed before they exploded. Stopping, just long enough to breathe, the kiss resumed, and they clung to each other.

  Streaks of white light shot through Martin's head as he came. He'd never felt closer to another person in his life, and couldn't resist saying the words. "I love you, Chase."

  Reaching down to cup Martin's sticky balls, he replied, "You lust after me, you mean. That's all it is, babe. Beautiful, pure lust."

  "I know the difference." He held Chase's chin so they could maintain eye contact. "I love you." "Then I'm sorry for you, because I'm trouble. I've been

  trying to tell you that all night." Squeezing the chin firmly, Martin responded, "Haven’t you been listening to me tonight? I've been trying to tell you something, too. You're not trouble. You're special, and I want you in my life." "I've got problems." "Who doesn't? I'll help you with them, if you'll let me." Pulling away, Chase looked into his eyes. "I don't

  want that." "What do you want? Look at me honestly, and tell me

  what it is." Chase yawned. "I want a towel to wipe up this mess. I want about six hours sleep, then I'll probably want a shower. A blow job—either during or after the shower, I don't care which. Maybe something to eat. That's pretty much what I want."

  Martin grabbed a towel from the edge of the bed and shoved it at him. "I think I can handle that list. Of course, sometime after that, we're going to have to talk seriously. You know what I meant."

  "I know." He yawned again. "I hoped throwing the blow job in there might shut you up."

  "It will, for a while, anyway." He wiped both their stomachs, tossing the towel aside. Spooning his body around Chase's, they snuggled into the covers and he closed his eyes. * * * * Late Sunday afternoon, after completing Chase's list, they ate at a nice restaurant, and found themselves on Broad Street, looking up at the Space Needle.

  "What about your mother?" Martin asked. "Should you check on her?" Chase shook his head. "She'll be fine." "She didn't seem fine last night. How does she get a hold of you when you're not at Eric's?"

  "Would you forget about my mother, please? Let's ride up in the Needle. I feel the urge to see the city from on high. No, I didn't say 'I wanted to get high', I said from 'on high'."

  "Shut up. I'm just worried about her. I really think she needs help. Isn't there a center—"

  "I'm going up." Chase headed toward the gate, leading into the Space Needle's interior. "I think I have enough for two tickets." "I'm not going up there." Martin crossed his arms. "What?" Chase stopped. "Why?" "I don't want to." He fidgeted. "Are you afraid of heights?" "No! It's not that, it's just—well, yeah, I'm afraid of

  heights. But—" "But nothing! Come on, Mr. Big Talker. You're full of ideas on how I should change my life. Let's see you put your money where your mouth is."

  "That's ridiculous. The suggestions I made for you are for your betterment. You could have so much, Chase, if you'd only—"

  "Not listening anymore. You want me to do things for you? Then do this for me. Ride to the top of the Space Needle with me. We'll make out on the O-Deck, underneath the stars." "You're full of shit." Chase pushed him toward the door. "Yeah, I am. Some homophobic asshole might try to toss one of us off, if we did that. We'll just look out and enjoy the view."

  "I won't enjoy any
view from six hundred feet in the air."

  "Six hundred and five feet. Actually, the O-Deck is only five hundred twenty feet up." He escorted Martin to the entrance. "Two, please."

  Chase handed over cash, and the attendant gave him the tickets.

  Martin wondered briefly where he got the money, then focused on what was happening. They were in a cold, silver elevator, and it was climbing into the air. His chest tightened. "I can't do this."

  "Oh, but it's easy to tell me everything I need to do, right?" Chase whispered in his ear. The elevator was crowded, and he was able to squeeze one of Martin's butt cheeks without notice. "You'll be fine. I'm right here."

  "Can I trust you?" He hadn't meant to say the words out loud, but they slipped out.

  Chase chuckled. "That's the big question, now, isn't it? I don't know, can you trust me?"

  The doors opened and people stepped from the elevator. Martin hung back.

  "Come on. We didn't pay money to ride the elevator. Let's enjoy the view." Pulling him by the hand, Chase headed toward the observation deck. "Isn't it great?" "Shit, shit, shit…" Martin backed up to the inner wall. "Come on!" "No!" "Not so easy, is it?" Chase said, voice taunting. "Do this, do that, change this, change that. Then you'll be perfect, man!" "I never said that." "All but. You want me to be something I'm not,

  Marty." "Nobody calls me Marty!" He clutched the wall. Chase smiled. "All right. Martin. What's wrong,

  Martin? Scared of a little change?" "Fucking terrified." It was no lie. His heart pounded in

  his chest as he tried not to notice the view. "How do you think I feel? I've lived a certain way for a long time, now. You come along, and expect me to change everything to your liking." "No! That's not it at all. I just want better for—" "I know. I'm not good enough for a guy like you." He walked out to the edge, where a Plexiglas and wire mesh fence separated them from the brisk, outside air.

  "I never said that! I don't feel that way at all. Come back over here, you're making me nervous."

  Chase grinned, leaning into the fencing. "This makes you nervous?" "Stop it!" "Did you know several people have pried open gaps in this fence, and crawled out on to the rim? Really freaked the authorities out. Not legal, actually." He made a move to climb the mesh. "Chase, don't!" An employee eyed them with suspicion. Chase smiled, sauntering back to where Martin hugged the inner wall. "Better?" "Yes. Please don't do that again." "Out of your comfort zone, babe? Well, what do you think about me? You're talking about me putting my mother in rehab, signing up for student loans, moving to the 'burbs and going to school."

  "Those are good things. Why do you make them sound so bad?"

  "Because it's not me. You don’t know me, Martin. You really don't." "I want to. Really, I do." Chase faced the fence and stared out over the city. "My mother used to be a nurse, can you believe that? She was an R.N. Kept me in sneakers after my old man took off. We had a pretty good life. Then she met Ralph. He was kind of a dick, but he treated me decent, and she said she loved him. They got married, and had Stella. I was ten."

  "Stella…your sister?" He pictured the blonde haired child in the framed photo.

  "Yeah. She was a doll. A good baby, sweet natured, hardly ever cried. She loved hanging around me. I told everyone she was a pain, but I really liked her attention." "What happened?" "Stella was four. One night Ma got off work, and went out for a drink with some coworkers. She never did that, but somebody from the clinic was leaving, and it was a going-away thing. She had one drink, then went to pick Stella up from the babysitter. We're not sure exactly what happened after that, but Ma ran a red light and caused an accident. The other driver was in critical condition, he died a few days later in the hospital. Stella died on the scene."

  "Oh my God!" Martin was dumbstruck. "I can't believe—"

  "Believe it. We spent months in disbelief, and it didn't do a fucking bit of good. It happened, and our lives went to shit after that. Ma sunk into a depression, she worked off and on, but never steadily. Ralph was devastated. Stella was the apple of his eye. He hung around for a while, but pretty soon he must have decided me and Ma weren't worth the trouble."

  "That's not true. It's a horrible thing, Chase. I learned in my psychology class that losing a child often destroys a marriage. It wasn't your fault he left. None of it was your fault."

  Chase looked at him. "Whatever. That's my sordid story, man. My life's gone down the crapper since then. I barely finished school, was glad to get out."

  "What about your dreams? Drawing, designing video games—" "My dreams died with Stella. I'm lucky to get by." Martin blinked, willing tears not to fall. "You really

  loved her." Hesitating before answering, Chase nodded. "She was

  a cool kid." "You had that angel tattoo made of her picture." "Yeah. The tattoo artist did a great job on the portrait. I

  drew the rest. I drew all my tattoos." "No kidding?" He was amazed. "You're good." Chase shrugged. "You are." Martin could see he had talent. Why wouldn't he acknowledge it? "You're really good. You can't let that go to waste."

  "I can do whatever I want, man. This is America, isn't it?"

  "Is that what Stella would have wanted? You're letting your life wither away. You might as well crawl in the grave with her."

  "Shut the fuck up!" Chase's dark eyes flashed. "You don't know anything! You don't know…" He moved to the outer edge, looking wistfully out into space.

  Moving slowly, and against his better judgment, Martin joined Chase by the fence. "I'm smarter than you think. Even though I've only known you a short time, I can read you like a book."

  "You're right." Chase faced him. "You have only known me a short time. You might think you know me, but you don't. I promise you, Martin, you don't. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm leaving. I can walk home from here. I do it all the time."

  "Chase, no!" He reached for an arm, but the tormented man jerked away.

  "Go back to your life. Go back to the 'burbs. You don't belong here." He glanced around the upper deck. "This isn't for you. Goodbye, Martin. It's been real." Heading for the elevator, he didn't look back.

  Martin wanted to rush after him, but thought twice about it, and stayed put. He was terrified on the observation deck by himself, but the need to stay and face his fears was strong.

  He gripped the railing under the mesh fence. The view was spectacular, and if he didn't look down, tolerable.

  "Look here," someone to his left said, and he turned. A man was looking through one of the telescopes mounted on the deck, and he offered it to the woman with him. "They say this is powerful enough to pick a face out of the crowd at Safeco Field."

  She looked through "Wow! It's incredible!"

  Martin looked back standing proud in the distance. It was incredible. He made the mistake of glancing down, and fear clutched his gut. He backed up to the inner wall and grasped it.

  Panic. Was that how Chase felt, about the changes he'd suggested? He hadn't thought any of his ideas were that radical. They were all for the betterment of the man and his mother.Was he that far off base?

  Chase said he wasn't good enough for him. He'd never once said that, or even consciously thought it. Perhaps that was the impression he gave by his actions. He was trying the change the man, as if they way he was, wasn't good enough.

  He'd been a fool. Attracted to Chase from the very beginning because of the way he looked, and acted, he never should have attempted to change him. The realization struck him like a lightning bolt. * * * * Martin drove home, wanting more time to think things through. He was certain of his feelings for Chase, but had to face facts. If the other man were to make no changes in his life, stay exactly as he was, would that be all right with him? Would it be enough? He needed to think about it very seriously.

  By the end of the week, only one issue was unresolved in his mind. He couldn't live with drug use. It'd be heart

  the telescope and murmured, at his own view, Mt. Ranier, wrenching to let Chase go, but if drugs were involved, he
<
br />   had to break it off now, before he was unable to.

  For the third Saturday in a row, he walked into the Broad Street Gift Shop with hope in his heart.

  Chase had been ringing up a customer's purchases, and once he finished, glanced up. He smiled. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

  "Needed some advice. You got a minute?" He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

  "What's that?" He took it, unfolding it to see a picture of a panther.

  "Just something I liked. I wondered if you could sketch it for me, with some neat letters around it that spell Marty. I'm thinking about getting it tattooed right here." He pointed to the back of his left shoulder.

  Chase made a questioning face. "Nobody calls you Marty."

  "One important person does." He gazed into the dark eyes, anxious to see what response he'd find there. "Really." Chase rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Look." He glanced around, wondering why all their important conversations had to take place in public. The store was empty, so he continued. "I've done a lot of thinking this past week. I wanted to come by sooner, but I had to be sure I was doing the right thing. I'm sorry, Chase. I never should have tried to change you. I thought I was acting in your best interest, but I see now, I was being judgmental. I never, ever, meant to do that."

  "I realize you didn't. See, I've come to know you pretty well these past weeks, too. I appreciate what you tried to do, Martin—" He smiled, "Marty. I thought a lot about what you said, and I made a few decisions myself." "Yeah?" He could barely breathe, he was so nervous. "Yeah. You were right about everything. My mother does need help. I looked into some rehab centers, and found one that will take her, on her welfare income. She's not going to like it, and I'm not sure I can do it by myself. I was going to ask you for help."

  "Of course I'll help. I'd do anything for you, Chase, you have to know that. There's just one thing. I can't handle the drugs. There can't—"

  "No more drugs," he interrupted firmly. "I'm totally on board with that. It may mean making some new friends, because the old ones won't like it. But I figure, if I'm in school, living in the 'burbs, new friends shouldn't be a problem, right?"