Something Like Spring

by Jay Bell

  Jason glanced around, wondering if love could really be found in a place like this or if he was open to it yet. “I feel guilty just being here,” he said. “Did you feel that way at first?”

  “After Tim?” Ben asked. “No. Not exactly. I felt horrible the first time I was with another guy, but that had more to do with him not being Tim or someone I loved.”

  “And after Jace?” Jason asked. Then he worried he was being insensitive.

  “It’s fine,” Ben reassured him. “When Tim came back into my life, I’d been dealing with Jace’s death for years. I’d had time to come to terms with it and was so happy to see Tim and experience all those wonderful emotions again.” Ben grinned goofily before growing serious. “Later it became a little confusing. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, thinking Jace was next to me. Or I wondered if I was doing the right thing. When Jace and I got married, I made a promise. There was no ‘’til death do us part’ in our vows. In fact, I didn’t have any vows at all.”

  “Huh?”

  Ben looked bashful. “I kind of blanked during the ceremony, but in my mind, I was making a promise. Jace and I were going to be together forever. In a way, we still are.” Ben held up his left hand, the ring there different from the one Tim had given him. Then he held up the other hand with the engagement ring on it. “This makes it better. Tim and I are getting married, and I feel like it shows Jace that I’m not just messing around because he’s no longer here. The love I feel for Tim is serious. Sure, part of me will always feel like I should live my life alone until Jace and I can be together again, but the rest of me wants to be happy and feel loved and to give that back. I’m pretty sure Jace would be okay with that.”

  “I’m envious,” Jason said, “but I’m also not sure if I’m ready for a new relationship.”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Ben said. “See anyone you want to dance with?”

  Jason didn’t have to search far. He stood and offered Ben his hand. “Can I have this dance?”

  Ben pretended to fan himself, then accepted his hand, hopped off the stool, and walked with him to the dance floor. That was the end of their physical contact. They danced together, sometimes acting silly and other times seriously shaking their rumps to the rhythm, but they didn’t gyrate against each other like some couples did. Maybe this is what communicated they were available. A guy with dark hair and even darker eyes casually danced his way between them until he was facing Jason. He gave a smile and an upward nod of his head, so Jason returned the gesture. Their dance became a lot more intimate. The guy kept putting his hands on Jason—on his hips, his neck, his chest, even ran his fingers across Jason’s lips like he was trying to rub off lipstick.

  As mildly erotic as this was, the guy wasn’t Jason’s type, which was weird since he was young and good-looking and definitely sexy… but he wasn’t William. After dancing some more, Jason managed to shoot Ben a panicked expression without the guy noticing. Ben came to his rescue, grabbing Jason’s hand and pulling him off the dance floor like a jealous boyfriend.

  “Another drink?” Ben asked.

  Jason considered all the faces that had caught his eye, all the people he’d scoped out the first hour he and Ben had sat and drank. He couldn’t imagine any of them coming up, asking him to dance or offering their phone number, and him feeling happy about it. At times he longed for his younger days when a pretty face was all it took to make him feel infatuated, a couple of kind words enough to make him fall in love. William had cured him of his careless heart, Jason no longer able to fall as quickly or hard as he once had. He knew Ben was right. Eventually he’d have to shove aside his fears and at the very least give someone else a shot. But not quite yet.

  “We can go,” Jason said. “That’s enough for my first bar experience.”

  “Too bad,” Ben said, leading the way toward the front door. “I can’t remember the last time I danced like that.”

  “Tim doesn’t like to?”

  “He’s good for a slow dance, but besides that, I always tell him, ‘Honey, you might be Latino, but you’re no Ricky Martin.’”

  Jason laughed, feeling relieved when they were outside and he could breathe in the cool autumn air. As they headed for the car, Ben was talking about the time he’d goaded Tim into taking a Samba class, which was probably why he didn’t hear the person calling after them.

  “Hey!”

  Jason spun around. By the door of the bar, a figure leaned against the wall. His features were lost in the hoodie he wore, but what Jason could see looked rough. The man took a few steps forward, gestured for Jason to come over to him. A breeze picked up in the parking lot, cooling the sweat on Jason’s skin and making him shiver. He shook his head, not understanding if it was sex, drugs, or well-meaning advice being offered, but instinctually knowing he wasn’t interested. Jason turned and hurried to catch up with Ben. As they were pulling out of the parking lot, he craned his neck to look at the bar entrance, but the man was no longer there.

  * * * * *

  Was it awesome? Emma texted.

  Jason kicked off his shoes and flopped into bed.

  Sure.

  Were there lots of hot lezzies?

  Jason thought about it. He’d noticed a few women at the bar, and presumably some of them were hot. Oodles, he texted back.

  OMG!!! Wait! Was Bonnie there?

  He laughed, thumbs flying across the keys. No or I would have said so. I danced with a really hot guy.

  And?

  I’m not ready to settle down yet. Still playing the field.

  So easy to act badass while texting. He waited for Emma’s response, puzzled when it came.

  I saved a life tonight.

  Jason scrutinized the screen, sitting upright when he saw the message was actually from William. He reread it again, this time hearing it in William’s voice.

  I saved a life tonight.

  And it hurt. The last thing Jason needed was for William to remind him how awesome he was, how no one else could ever compare. Jason thought long and hard about what his response should be, and he wasn’t proud of it exactly, but he needed to push back a little, just to see what would happen.

  Wow. All I did tonight was go to a gay bar.

  Then came a five-minute wait. Emma texted a few more times, but he ignored these. Finally, William’s response appeared on his screen.

  I want you to be happy.

  Jason groaned, feeling horrible for having told William, for changing good news into something complex and awkward.

  I’m proud of you. Jason texted back, as quickly as he could. So crazy hugely proud of you! You’re my hero. You always will be.

  After this was sent, Jason tossed aside the phone, buried his head under a pillow, and willed the world to disappear.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Bleary-eyed, Jason crawled out of bed, reached for his phone, and found nothing of interest on the screen. No texts from William, just as there hadn’t been for the last three days. Jason wasn’t sending any either, meaning they were back to not talking to each other. Or maybe William was just busy, or felt betrayed by Jason’s visit to the gay bar, or any number of things. Their relationship—be it friends or something more—had become a guessing game. Jason relieved his bladder in the bathroom, and then went back to his phone to check the time and his work schedule. He was up early this morning. At least that meant he wouldn’t have to rush.

  He found Ben downstairs in the kitchen, having his usual tea, but nothing else was on the table.

  “Tim went to get donuts,” he explained.

  In that case, Jason would get his sugar rush started right. He grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and sat down across from Ben. Coke can and tea cup clinked together, as if they were champagne glasses, before carbonated bliss poured down Jason’s throat. After a satisfied gasp worthy of a commercial, Jason smacked his lips and asked, “You guys set a date for the wedding yet?”

  “No,” Ben said. “The idea of getting
married is way more romantic than the endless preparations, as Tim is discovering. He’s already stressing about certain family members being there—on both sides—and if we should go to a state where it’s legal, what season it should take place in, what we should wear…”

  “Poor guy.”

  “Mm-hm.” Ben took a sip of his tea. “Right now I’m letting him stress about it. Eventually I’ll step in and take care of it all.”

  Jason shook his head. “You’re so mean!”

  Ben grinned over the cup. “Sometimes.”

  “You guys can afford to hire a wedding planner, right?”

  Ben shrugged. “Just because we have money, doesn’t mean we should spend it. Sounds like Tim is back already. He’s been speeding again.”

  To Jason, the car sounded like it needed a tune-up. They yawned and blinked, waiting for their delivery of sugar-fried fat, and looking puzzled at each other when they heard Chinchilla barking in the backyard. Ben expressed what they were both wondering.

  “Why didn’t he come in the front—”

  A snarl of thunder interrupted him, a numb silence following. Even Chinchilla’s barks had ceased. No, not thunder! Jason stood up when he recognized the sound. He’d heard it over and over again when he and Caesar had practiced on the firing range. And a few dark times during his one and only hunting trip.

  The backdoor opened and closed. Jason was looking around for any sort of weapon he could find when Ben also stood, face in shock when he noticed the stranger in the kitchen doorway.

  Except he wasn’t a stranger. Not completely. The guy outside the bar, the one who had tried to call Jason over the other night. When the man pulled back his hoodie with his free hand—the other holding a shaking gun—Jason recognized who he was. The painting in the attic, the one so handsome that Jason had snuck up there occasionally just to admire it, now stood there in the flesh, living and breathing. The name came to his lips, the one Ben, Tim, and even Marcello said with grave solemnity.

  “Ryan.”

  The gun raised, pointed directly at him, and Jason knew what it felt like to be helpless, to be so close to death and absolutely powerless to escape.

  “Who are you?” Ryan asked, eyes narrowing. They were practically slits when they turned to Ben. His mouth became a sneer, making him look more like a monster than a man. Odd, since just seconds ago, he had still been handsome. Sure he looked like he needed a bath, a shave, and a few weeks’ worth of sleep, but beneath all that grime and wear, Jason had seen the beauty Tim had captured in the portrait. Except now it had been replaced by hate that turned Jason’s spine to ice.

  “You,” Ryan said, gun hand trembling as he focused on Ben. “I knew it! You didn’t see me the other night, did you? I guess I’m beneath your notice now. But your little friend saw me.” The gun moved back and forth between them, like Ryan couldn’t decide who to shoot first. Finally, it settled on Jason. “Who is he?”

  “Just put the gun down,” Ben said, taking a step forward.

  The barrel of the gun instantly moved to stop him, Ryan trembling as he rubbed the sweat from his eyes with his free hand. Was he scared? Or were these the shakes of a desperate junkie?

  “Who is he?” Ryan shouted.

  “He’s nobody,” Ben said, sounding phenomenally calm. “Just a guy who rents a room.”

  “Just a guy who rents a room,” Ryan parroted sarcastically. “Does Tim know you were out with him at the bar? Does he know you’re fucking around, just like you accused me of doing?”

  “I didn’t accuse you of anything,” Ben said, showing his open palms. “Tim left you for his own reasons.”

  “That’s right, he left me for you!” Ryan jabbed the gun in Ben’s direction. Then he started walking forward, as if he was ready to end this, but he stopped halfway into the room. “Where is he? Where’s Tim?”

  “At the gallery,” Jason said. “He’ll be gone the whole day.”

  Ryan glared at him. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

  “Nobody,” Ben repeated.

  “Tell me or I put a fucking bullet in his head! Then he really will be nobody!”

  Ben didn’t react. Not until Ryan pointed the gun at Jason. Then Ben’s voice cracked as he answered.

  “He’s my son.”

  Ryan considered Ben disbelievingly, looking back and forth between them. Then he laughed. “I don’t know what sort of sick game you’re playing here. I bet Tim doesn’t know either. When he comes home and finds your bodies on the floor together, he’ll understand what was going on here.”

  “And what, take you back?” Ben said, sounding angry. “Do you really want that, Ryan? Or would you rather have so much money that you don’t need Tim—that you don’t need to rely on anybody. Because we can give you that. We have more money than we’ll ever need. I’ll pay you to leave us alone. Right now. Cash. No police, no drama. You get your money, and you get out of here.”

  Ryan’s face had gone slack as he listened to this offer. He looked almost serene, like a boy who was desperate to lie down and rest, just for a few moments, just for a few centuries. Then his tired features twisted up again. “All of this is mine! You took it from me!” The gun kept jabbing in Ben’s direction. It going off was only a matter of time, whether on accident or on purpose. Jason moved his eyes to the kitchen table, hoping to find a knife. The only items there were a can of Coke, a tea cup, and a basket of oranges. None of them had much potential, but if he could throw the tea cup, hit Ryan in the eyes…

  “If you hadn’t come along,” Ryan continued ranting, “Tim and I would still be together.”

  “You really believe that?” Ben asked, taking a few steps forward. He stopped when Ryan’s gun arm tensed, but he had made it past the edge of the kitchen table. “Tim would have left you eventually, if only to save you.”

  “Save me?” Ryan demanded incredulously. “Oh, so he was doing me a favor!”

  Ben raised his hands again, to show they were open. Jason braced himself, feeling Ben had a plan but not knowing what it was. “You overdosed in the hospital. Tim agonized over that. He blamed himself.”

  “And he felt so bad that he threw me out on the street? You’re going tell to me that was for my own good?” Ryan pointed at himself with the gun.

  Ben moved, but he didn’t rush Ryan like Jason expected. Instead he moved sideways. Jason didn’t notice at first, since he had lunged for the tea cup. When he looked back up again, Ben was blocking the way. Standing in his path. That had been his plan all along. Not to attack Ryan somehow, but to protect Jason.

  Ryan recognized this and laughed. “Is that really your kid? What did you do, knock up some girl when you were twelve? You can’t protect him. I’ll put a bullet through both your heads. Bang bang!”

  “You want the money or not?” Ben asked. “You’ll never get into the safe if we’re dead.”

  “I told you what I want,” Ryan hissed.

  As if on cue, the front door squeaked open. “Lucy, I’m home!” Tim said, doing his best Ricky Ricardo impersonation. “Whose car is out front?”

  Ryan moved back against the breakfast bar. “Don’t you fucking move,” he whispered, standing sideways and keeping the gun trained on them while he watched the kitchen door.

  Tim was grinning at his own joke as he strolled into the kitchen. He saw them first—Ben with an arm held out to keep Jason back, like a parent stopping his child from running into a busy street. Jason tried to tell Tim the whole story with one panicked expression. Tim responded with one of confusion, then fear as he took in the gun.

  The box he was holding clattered to the ground, a cheerful rainbow-sprinkled donut rolling across the floor. It seemed too optimistic to exist here, too simple and happy, because Jason could no longer see this ending without one of them getting shot. Not unless Ryan broke down into tears and threw himself into Tim’s arms.

  “There he is,” Ryan said, sounding bitter. “Mr. I’m-so-fucking-perfect. I like your family. Did you know about that one over ther
e? Do you pretend he’s your son too?”

  Tim spared them a glance, one that clearly said ‘let me deal with this.’

  “I’m glad you’re here, Ryan,” he said. “Marcello told me you were in town. I’ve been worried about you. Why didn’t you come here sooner?”

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You know, I thought about leaving you alone. I tried to find you at first, but then I figured maybe I’d find someone better. Then I saw your little bitch at the bar, and I remembered just how much I hate you.”

  “Then point the gun at me,” Tim said. “If that’s what you came here to do, point the gun at me.”

  “You ruined my life!” Ryan said, gun arm trembling. “My whole life turned to shit after you threw me out. I fucking hate you!”

  “Then point the gun at me!” Tim shouted.

  Ryan shrugged, as if it wasn’t a bad idea, and swung the gun around. This wasn’t a threat. Jason could see the fingers tighten on the gun, the tendons on Ryan’s hand tense as he prepared to fire. Jason shoved Ben aside, rushed Ryan with the ridiculous tea cup raised like it was a broadsword. But he was too late. He heard the explosion just seconds before reaching Ryan. Jason smashed the teacup into his ear regardless, tried to throw his weight into him and knock him over, but a stool was in his way. All Jason ended up doing was falling over it, but still he grabbed at Ryan’s wrist, trying to snatch away the gun and failing.

  Ryan stepped back, disoriented at first, before he raised the gun and pointed it in Jason’s face. Then his eyes moved, his mouth twitched, and he aimed at something to the left of Jason’s head.

  Ben. He was going to shoot Ben first.

  A fist slammed into Ryan’s cheek from behind. The gun went off again, this time close enough that Jason’s world became clenched shut eyes and ringing ears. He blinked madly, trying to shrug off the panic jolting through his body. When he did, Ryan was on the floor, Tim on top of him and slamming fist after fist into his face. Ryan’s arms were flailing, striking Tim randomly. The gun was still in one hand, and it was only a matter of time before Ryan remembered to use it. Jason rushed forward, grabbing Ryan’s wrist and slamming it against the floor. The gun was flung from Ryan’s grasp. Jason scurried after it, kicking it by accident and wincing because he was sure it would go off. When it didn’t, he picked it up and swung around.