Something Like Thunder

by Jay Bell

  “What’s this?”

  “Rebecca’s favorite,” Nathaniel said. “Swing by there later today and surprise her. She’s feeling lonely. Take care of her for me, okay? And none of that homework crap. Just be her friend.”

  Caesar nodded. “Okay. How about a keg while we’re here?”

  “Nope.”

  “A quickie?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Some inappropriate groping?”

  Nathaniel grinned, gave Caesar a kiss worth remembering, and went back to his own car. With that miniature crisis taken care of, he could focus on the work ahead. He was looking forward to it. Drinking with Kenneth last night had been interesting, but not enlightening. Kenneth enjoyed talking about himself. Nathaniel now knew more about him than he cared to: born and raised in Richmond, came out when he was eighteen, went to Virginia Tech nearly ten years ago where he was vetted by Marcello in a similar fashion—except according to Kenneth, he had answered every question posed to the audience. Correctly. Nathaniel never would have guessed the guy was in his early thirties. He aged well and flirted a lot, but Nathaniel’s relationship with Caesar had given him plenty of practice in deflecting such behavior.

  He hoped their session today would focus more on actual work and less on Kenneth’s life story. They met in an office on campus that the university was allowing Marcello to use. The big man was nowhere in sight, which was disappointing, but Nathaniel soon found himself preoccupied by the project.

  “We’re selling cologne,” Kenneth said, pulling up a sales pitch on his laptop. “What better way to do so than with pigs?”

  Nathaniel, sitting next to him, glanced over at the screen to see he was serious. “Oh.”

  Kenneth nodded sympathetically. “Exactly. You want to support creative types? This is the sort of madness you need to rework into a logical process. Luckily, this concept isn’t so bad.” He clicked a few times, bringing up a rough storyboard. “You have a pig farmer, covered in mud and shoveling manure out of a pen. He’s filthy, as is the barn and the huge hog he’s tending. The farmer checks his watch, notices his lack of time, and sprays on his trusty cologne. Magic happens, and we see the farmer looking clean and handsome. The barn is full of nice fresh hay, and the hog has been replaced by an adorable piglet. All this happens just in time for the arrival of his beautiful date, who will appear at the side of the frame here. The photographer is pushing for six sequential photos, but I want it done in four so the details remain sharp in the magazine.”

  “Wait,” Nathaniel said. “This is for a print ad? I figured it would be a commercial.”

  Kenneth shook his head. “We don’t make commercials.”

  “But you have a production studio. If you’re going to all the trouble of setting this up, why not sell both to the customer? They get a print ad and also a commercial they can put on television or online.”

  Kenneth peered at him. “Where did you hear about Marcello’s production company?”

  “It came up during one of my online searches.”

  “Can you show me?” Kenneth pushed the laptop toward him. Nathaniel didn’t see why it mattered, but when he finally found the site, Kenneth bookmarked it and sighed. “Marcello has his hobbies, which he likes to keep discrete. For the sake of the company.”

  “What do you mean?” Nathaniel pried. “What sort of movies is he making?”

  Kenneth’s expression became ambiguous, but only just.

  “Seriously?” Nathaniel said, feeling let down.

  “Let’s focus on the task at hand,” Kenneth said, returning to the storyboard.

  What followed was hours of planning. Would they do location scouting or recreate a barn interior in a studio? They settled on the latter, which then became an issue of finding the materials and the hay. Who would they get to play the farmer and his date? Who could provide both the hog and a piglet? Then came scheduling, not just of the models in the advertisement, but lighting technicians, photographers, set dressers, and even someone from the American Humane Association to supervise treatment of the animals. Every little detail had to be considered and planned, which was exhausting—but interesting too, like a jigsaw puzzle that had to fit together just right.

  “The photos should be taken in reverse sequence,” Nathaniel said. “It’ll be easier to dirty up the place than clean it again.”

  Kenneth smiled in a way that showed he’d already thought of that, but he seemed impressed. “Look at the time,” he said, noticing a clock on the wall.

  Ten at night. To Nathaniel it seemed only a few hours had gone by. They weren’t even close to being finished.

  “There’s still tomorrow,” Kenneth said, chuckling at his transparent panic. “Let’s call it a day.”

  “Okay,” Nathaniel said. “I guess I should be getting home.”

  Kenneth shook his head. “I owe you a pitcher of beer. You didn’t think last night was supposed to pay for the week, did you? I’ll even throw in dinner. How about that?”

  Nathaniel’s stomach grumbled. He grinned sheepishly. “Sounds like a yes to me.”

  They spent another hour at a restaurant, then moved to a nearby bar. The workday might be over, but they kept talking about it, hashing out ideas and issues that needed to be researched the next day. It was nearing one in the morning—Nathaniel’s head spinning—when they stumbled out of the bar. Kenneth called a taxi, which drove to Nathaniel’s apartment first. They were parked outside, the vehicle idling, when Kenneth leaned over.

  “Maybe we could both get off here,” he suggested.

  Nathaniel shot him an apologetic expression. “I’ve already got someone.”

  “A boyfriend?”

  He nodded.

  “Just my luck,” Kenneth said. “Ah well. Take an aspirin and drink some water before you pass out. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

  At least he had taken it well. Nathaniel tried to be quiet as he entered the apartment, ignoring the advice Kenneth had given him and going straight for his bedroom. Caesar was there, curled up on top of the bed. Rather than disturb him, Nathaniel kicked off his shoes, used the blankets from his side of the bed to cover Caesar, then crawled in beside him despite still wearing his suit. A few minutes later he shrugged off the jacket and nestled up to Caesar for warmth before finally falling asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hitting the new Tex-Mex place tonight. Join us?

  Nathaniel read this text message on the sly, hoping Kenneth wouldn’t notice. He kept his response as short as possible.

  No. Sorry.

  He set aside the phone, trying to focus on the task at hand. A moment later, the phone started vibrating.

  “Make it quick,” Kenneth said with a hint of irritation.

  Nathaniel grabbed the phone and hit the button to answer it, but he didn’t speak until safely in the hall. “What?”

  “I’m not going to say that it’s Friday,” Caesar said. “But it’s Friday.”

  “I know. Just have fun without me, okay?”

  “You can make this one. Rebecca isn’t free until eight, so it’ll be a late dinner. We’re going to mock how ‘authentic’ the food is. Tex-Mex in Connecticut. Can you believe it?”

  “I’m sorry,” Nathaniel said.

  “What if we wait until nine?”

  “No. I’ll make it up to you somehow. Both of you, I promise. I gotta go.”

  He hung up before Caesar could respond. He felt guilty but went back inside the office and lost himself in the work. At least he tried to, but as the hours went by, the numbers blurred together and began to resemble little fajitas and margaritas.

  “I realize budgeting isn’t exactly fun,” Kenneth said, “but you haven’t been the same since that phone call. Bad news?”

  Nathaniel chose his answer carefully. “Peer pressure.”

  “Ah. You understand the general principle of what we’re doing here, right? It’s not that I can’t handle the work on my own. I usually do.”

  “I definitely
understand it all,” Nathaniel said, sounding hopeful.

  Kenneth smiled. “All right. Go have fun.”

  Nathaniel checked his watch on the way out the door. It was nearly eight now, which meant he had time to join them. He hurried to his car and cruised across town to a mall parking lot, where some failed grill had been turned into a little piece of Texas. In theory, anyway. He could already spot cheesy decorations through the windows. Was that a stuffed armadillo? Wearing a little sombrero? The locals were clearly eating it up, in more than one way, since parking was scarce and several people were gathered outside, waiting to be seated. He spotted Caesar and Rebecca on his way across the parking lot, sitting together. Next to them on the bench, the electronic coaster that signaled their table was ready flashed with lights but went unnoticed. Caesar was distracted, pointing briefly at Rebecca’s face. She brushed at it self-consciously while Caesar laughed and shook his head. She wiped the other cheek, Caesar shaking his head again before reaching out and rubbing her chin with his thumb. His hand remained there, even when his thumb stopped moving. Then he dropped his hand and leaned forward. Rebecca did the same.

  Nathaniel halted, the toe of one shoe scuffing against the pavement. He stared in disbelief, watching two sets of lips meet that were never supposed to. His best friend. His boyfriend. Rebecca pulled away first, laughing at Caesar, who still leaned toward her, remaining stubbornly in place until she returned for another peck. And another, which turned into a more impassioned kiss.

  A car horn honked, Nathaniel illuminated by headlights. He turned to glare at the driver, then looked back at the couple on the bench, who had noticed him. Nathaniel strode forward, his steps matching the drum of his pulse. His vision narrowed to one person who was standing up now with an apologetic expression Nathaniel had seen much too often. Once that expression had moved him. Now it enraged him, made him want to snap Caesar’s neck so the muscles in his face would go limp, wiping it from existence. Indeed, he found his hand on that neck, Caesar skittering backward over gravel and carefully planted bushes until his back hit the building. Nathaniel didn’t have any words for him, just a growl as his fingers tightened. Caesar’s eyes went wide, his spluttered explanation lost as he struggled to breathe.

  “Nathaniel!”

  Two arms grabbed his, pulling ineffectively. He looked over and saw someone he had turned to for comfort countless times. Red hair and a sprinkling of freckles. His loyal friend and confidant. That made her betrayal even worse because she had done the one thing that could hurt him most.

  Why? What sense did any of this make? What good was love if it couldn’t keep the darkness of the world at bay? Instead it was the source of the worst pain imaginable. He released Caesar, vision blurring as he turned away. He shrugged off Rebecca when she pulled on his shoulder, ignored her tears and apologies as he stomped back to the car. He even pushed her aside when she tried to stop him from getting inside. Then he pulled out of the parking lot, ignored a red light when turning onto the main road, and pushed the gas pedal down as far as it would go.

  * * * * *

  Nowhere to run. No best friend to turn to for comfort. No boyfriend to hold him and whisper soothing words. Even Nathaniel’s home was contaminated, since both people would be waiting there, ready with explanations he could already predict: Rebecca had finally found someone willing to give her affection. Caesar had felt neglected or had simply fallen in love with her because his bleeding heart tended to leave a mess everywhere he went, staining the world with its excessive sympathy.

  Nathaniel gunned it out of the city, by some miracle not getting pulled over for speeding. He kept driving until the lights behind him faded and he was cruising through darkness. A country road somewhere, gravel grinding beneath the tires when he pulled over to the side and started crying. His head ached from searching for a solution, for anything to make the pain go away. He even considered forgiving them both, just so he wouldn’t be alone. So he would have a home again. Eventually his thoughts and tears both exhausted themselves. He crawled into the backseat and fell into a fitful sleep. When a tractor rumbling by woke him in the morning, he drove back to campus, arriving hours early at the office where he was to meet Kenneth. Neither Rebecca nor Caesar knew exactly where that was.

  “Hey, extra points for punctuality!” Kenneth said when he arrived. He slowed as he unpacked his laptop. “Must have been some party last night. You look rough.”

  “I didn’t go home,” Nathaniel said.

  “I remember those days. Can’t say I miss them. Still, you better pull it together by tomorrow. Marcello wants to meet with you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Kenneth stopped what he was doing to focus on him. “No? Most people are eager to get into his good graces. They treat him like a god among men.”

  Nathaniel shrugged moodily. “Takes more than a couple of flashbulbs and some cued music to impress me.”

  He expected a reprimand for this remark. Instead, Kenneth seemed pleased. “We don’t have to jump right in. Wanna grab breakfast?”

  Food sounded good, but… “I don’t want to be seen in public.”

  “Wow. Okay. Assuming the FBI isn’t about to bust down the door for crimes you committed last night, I’m guessing you’re avoiding someone. The boyfriend?”

  “Ex-boyfriend,” Nathaniel corrected.

  Kenneth digested this news. Then he perked up. “Take-out it is! You wait here. I’ll be back in a jiffy with some sensational breakfast burritos. Coffee?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Once he was gone, Nathaniel pulled out his cell phone. He had turned it off after the first text message came in last night. Since then he had resisted the temptation to turn it back on. Tossing it aside, he went to the nearest men’s room to clean up as much as possible. Kenneth returned not long after, remaining quiet while they ate. Only when they both had full stomachs did he speak.

  “Want to talk about what happened?”

  Why not? Nathaniel didn’t have anyone else he could turn to. He kept the story as basic as possible. His boyfriend had cheated on him with his best friend, who was also his roommate. A triple whammy. That was too simple though, so he launched into his history with Caesar. Kenneth listened patiently, giving his opinion once Nathaniel was done.

  “Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome. That’s the definition of insanity. I’m not saying you’re crazy, but you’d have to be to give this guy another chance.”

  “This is the third time,” Nathaniel said, nodding his agreement. “He’s hopeless.”

  “But you’re not. You’re too smart to waste your time with a loser like that. Handsome too. You’ll have no trouble replacing him.”

  The thought made his stomach turn. A life without Caesar sounded empty. Imagining someone taking his place was impossible. “I think I’m done with relationships for the moment.”

  “Wise decision. You know what would cheer you up?”

  “What?”

  “More budgeting!”

  “Seriously?”

  “I also took off early last night. We’ve got catching up to do.”

  Nathaniel started work grudgingly, and even though Kenneth had been joking, he soon felt better losing himself in a world of numbers, logistics, and problems that could be solved with a quick phone call and the right amount of money. When lunchtime rolled around, he declined the offer to take a break, not wanting those unpleasant emotions to catch up with him again. By evening, he was disappointed when their tasks came to an end. For more than one reason.

  “What about tomorrow?” he asked.

  Kenneth shut his laptop and shoved it inside the carrying case. “As I said. Marcello wants to see you. After that we have a flight back to Austin.”

  “Take me with you,” he joked.

  “Now there’s an idea.” Kenneth appraised him. “I have a feeling you’re going to turn down a pitcher of beer, since that would be in public. What if we hide out in my hotel roo
m instead? I’ll grab a twelve-pack on the way, and we’ll see how much damage we can do.”

  The man was flirting with him, maybe making an outright proposition, but Nathaniel didn’t care. He knew it would hurt Caesar, and that was motivation enough. “Better make it a twenty-four pack.”

  * * * * *

  “I love your job,” Nathaniel said, tapping an arrow key to move through a document they had put together. His thoughts were warm and disconnected, his emotions reduced to a dull ache. He pushed the laptop back a little, bumping one of the room service plates. He looked over at Kenneth, ready to apologize, but he seemed amused.

  “Why don’t you come work for me?” Kenneth said, his slurred words bumbling into each other. “Be my personal assistant.”

  Nathaniel stood to grab another beer, noticing that Kenneth needed one too. He twisted the caps off two bottles and held one out. “I’m not going to Yale so I can become someone’s glorified secretary.”

  “Well excuse me,” Kenneth replied playfully. “God forbid you start on the ground floor!” He stood up—swaying a little—so he could accept the bottle, but reached instead for the buttons of Nathaniel’s shirt, undoing the top one. “Okay then. How about I give you my job?”

  Nathaniel set the bottles on the table, so his hands were free. He used them to stop Kenneth from progressing further. “Wouldn’t you be out of a job then?”

  “Nope. I’m going to be the boss.”

  Nathaniel snorted. “Then won’t Marcello be out of a job?”

  Kenneth smiled. “Exactly.” He pushed aside Nathaniel’s hands so he could work on the next button.

  Once again, Nathaniel stopped him. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s my business,” Kenneth said, sounding frustrated.

  Nathaniel examined his face. He seemed serious, and if he really was going to be in such a position… Of course it was tempting, but this could also be a ruse to get him into bed. Only one way to find out. Nathaniel tore open his shirt, shrugging it off and flexing in the process. Kenneth’s eyes lit up. He reached out a hand, which Nathaniel caught.