Anyone But You

by Brien Michaels

  Fuck it was nice to have someone’s mouth on me again, even if it was . . . I couldn’t bring myself to think it, so I submitted to the intoxication and let myself enjoy the ride. I’d already decided how it was going to end, so why ruin what might be the best orgasm of my life by thinking?

  A couple of minutes later, my companion wasn’t satisfied anymore with just a dick in his mouth. He pushed me down onto the toilet, freed himself of his own pants, slicked himself with spit, and hopped on.

  Shit shit shit. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t inside another man, but fuck if it wasn’t tight and warm, and damn it I was already on the verge of climax. I didn’t want this to be happening. But at the same time why shouldn’t it? This didn’t make me gay. Or anything like it. This loser had come on to me. Had basically been molesting me since we’d been on the dance floor. And now he was riding me. Because that’s what he’d decided to do. I was the real victim here.

  I couldn’t think anymore. The ass felt too good, but I had to act fast. So I waited a few seconds more, until I wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. I was there, on the verge of ecstasy. My balls tightened. My muscles starting to seize, so with my last of ounce of clarity as I tumbled over the edge into utter bliss, I reached up, put a hand on either side of his head and wrenched until the neck snapped. Stars exploded in my vision as he went limp and fell back against me. It could only have been a few seconds that I sat there, panting harshly in the suddenly silent room, but it could have just as easily been an hour. Especially once I realized what I’d done.

  Fucking him had been bad enough, but I could live with that. But I’d shot my load in him. And I wasn’t wearing a condom. How could I have been so stupid? I’d have to physically get rid of the body.

  But how was I supposed to get it out of here without being seen?

  “Authorities are continuing to search for Simon Hall, who has now been missing for approximately three weeks. Today, his family issued a new statement and are offering a reward for any information leading to his safe return.” The camera switched from the newscaster to two women and a man standing in front of blue and green house. One of the women, an older lady with patches of gray in her auburn hair, seemed to be crying.

  Ryan couldn’t watch this. He switched off the television and got up. Simon had come to Neon Trees a few times to see Sheila perform. They’d talked, and Simon had gushed over how much he loved her numbers. Ryan felt sick that he was missing. He tried to ignore the obvious fear that Simon had become the newest victim of the lunatic stalking the city. But Simon didn’t do drag, that Ryan knew of. So he should have been safe . . . right?

  Ryan shoved the thought away. This wasn’t the same. No body had been found. Which wasn’t necessarily a great thing, but this didn’t match the killer’s MO. On top of that . . . Ryan couldn’t handle wondering if they’d both been in the club, watching him. And that a different man had maybe gotten a fate meant for him. The only victims up until now had been drag queens, so Sheila being the next target wasn’t a nonsensical jump. Chewing the inside of his cheek, Ryan paced the living room for ages, but he eventually forced himself to pick up his phone.

  Jack answered on the second ring.

  “I was just about to call you.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yeah. I was gonna see if you wanted to catch a movie, or something.”

  Ryan toyed with that for a moment. But he wasn’t sure if he was up for leaving. Maybe another night, but for now . . . “I kinda wanted to stay in. I was actually calling to see if you wanted to come over. We can watch something here.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll be there in a bit.”

  “Great.” Ryan hung up. But what to do until Jack arrived? Maybe he’d start planning his next number.

  When the doorbell rang almost an hour later, Ryan was in his closet, staring at a pair of thigh-high red boots with a heel that would have scared the life out of him only a year ago. He smiled. If nothing else, hanging out with Jack had made him more adventurous. He filed away the act he’d been dreaming up for Sheila and went to let his guest in.

  The grin Jack sported when Ryan opened the door took his breath away. “Hey,” he said, stepping aside. He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

  Jack swooped in and kissed him. A small peck, but Ryan still froze, caught totally off guard. For half a second, he wanted to run to the bathroom, but then he remembered that this was what butterflies felt like. And now there was definitely warmth creeping up his neck, into his cheeks. He couldn’t have hidden it if he’d wanted to.

  “What was that for?” he asked, resisting the urge to touch his lips.

  “I didn’t know that I needed a reason.”

  “You don’t,” Ryan said quickly. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Aren’t those the best ones?”

  Ryan knew the look in Jack’s eyes. That hunger. It turned a small part of him on, but he wasn’t in the mood for sex tonight. Peace was more important.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Jack said, jerking his chin toward the steps as he shut the door.

  A weight dropped onto Ryan’s chest, but he still allowed himself to be led up the stairs and back into his drag closet. He tried to contain the annoyance bubbling inside him, but it grew larger, more intense, until he could practically taste it.

  “What is this?” he asked as Jack pulled a red wig off its head and held it up against a corset.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean what we’re doing,” he said. It came out more biting than he’d intended, and Jack turned around.

  Confusion colored his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Well for starters,” Ryan said, pointing at the hair hanging limply in Jack’s hand. “That’s a four-hundred-dollar wig and I just finished styling it last night.”

  Jack swallowed visibly and returned it to the foam head it had been sitting on. “And?”

  Ryan sighed. “I’m not a woman.”

  “I know that—”

  “But you’ll only fuck me when I’m dressed like one.”

  “Ry—”

  “You know? I didn’t even call you over here for sex. I legit just needed a friend.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “That’s not even the point anymore.” Anger burst in, shoving all his other emotions out of the way. “We’ve been fucking for almost four months. I told you weeks ago that I didn’t like dressing in drag all the time, but you think it’s okay to waltz into my house and start rifling through stuff for me to wear just so you can get off.”

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  “But it’s what you did.” His nails dug into the palm of his hand. He couldn’t even remember making the fist, but now that he realized it, he had to keep himself from punching a hole through the wall. “It’s what you always do. And you don’t even give a damn how I feel about it.”

  “I do, I swear.”

  “You don’t. Nobody ever does. I’m never good enough for anybody. I wasn’t man enough for my father because I dressed up as a girl. I’m not enough for you because I’m not a woman.”

  “You are enough.” Jack took a step toward him, but Ryan held up a hand to stop him and backed away. Jack threw his hands up in surrender. “I told you I just need a little more time.”

  “You said that two months ago. What are you waiting for? For me to die?”

  “No, of course not.” Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. “Everything was fine last night. Hell, everything was fine an hour ago when you called me over here. So why is this such a big issue right now?”

  “Because I’m falling in love with you!”

  The words left Ryan’s mouth before he could stop them, and now that they were out in the world, there was no taking them back. Jack stood there, mouth hanging open. Obviously dumbstruck.

  They were silent for nearly a minute before Jack whispered, “Please.” He shook his head. “We don’t have to have sex. I’m okay with that. I
just . . . I need a little more time. I promise you I’m getting there. That kiss back there? I’ve never felt a spark like that before. That’s how I know.”

  Ryan knew what he meant. But it wasn’t enough. He’d spent so much time ashamed of part of himself, and now that he’d come to accept everything, he wasn’t about to let anyone shove him back into that box. He remembered the disgust in his father’s eyes for days after he’d caught him in those heels. And the side-eyes people had given him when he’d first started doing drag because he wasn’t as pretty as the other queens. How he’d hated himself for ever wanting to dress up in the first place. Now, in the one place he was supposed to be comfortable, those old insecurities were creeping back in, nibbling at the confidence it had taken him so long to build. He couldn’t let that happen. Not for Jack. Not for anyone.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any more time.” Ryan fought back the tears. “Because one day, I’m going to realize that I don’t want to spend my life with anyone but you. And that same day . . .” He sniffled and took a deep, steadying breath. “You’re going to tell me that you’re leaving me because this isn’t enough for you anymore and you’d rather have the real thing. And I just can’t put myself through that.”

  “I swear to you . . . I give you my word that will never happen.”

  “You’re right. Because I’m not going to let it. So I need you to decide right now . . . do you want Ryan? Or is it Sheila that you’re really here for?”

  “Y’all are the same person.”

  Ryan swallowed and let the first tear fall. “Wrong answer,” he said in a shaky whisper. He chewed the corner of his top lip. Fuck, he didn’t want to do this, but he had to. For himself. “Rhythm nation.”

  Jack looked confused for a moment, but then realization spread over him as he clearly recognized Ryan’s safeword. The floodgates were open now, and there was no stopping the wave of emotion, but Ryan stood his ground.

  “Please . . . don’t do this.”

  “I, um, I think you should go.”

  Jack’s bottom lip quivered. For a moment, he stared at Ryan with helpless, pleading eyes. But Ryan wouldn’t budge. Jack swallowed. Nodded. Drew himself up to his full height. “Then please consider this my two weeks’ notice. Because I can’t work for you anymore.”

  Before Ryan could say a word, Jack tucked his head, squeezed past him and out into the hall.

  Ryan waited until he heard the front door close, then he let out a watery breath and sank to his knees.

  He sobbed until he thought he’d die.

  Jack fingered the tube of lipstick in his pocket as he watched the door. He’d gone and picked up Ryan’s favorite shade of red before he’d come here, still holding on to hope that Ryan might show. But now—two and a half hours into the worst birthday party of his life—he was almost convinced he’d wasted his time. But that small part of him Sheila had awakened refused to stop believing. Yeah, he’d fucked up. Royally. But Ryan wouldn’t leave him hanging. Not today.

  He gave the room a quick scan, in case Ryan had managed to sneak in without him noticing, but there was no sign of him. Jack ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the persistent gnawing in his gut. He fished his phone out of his other pocket, but the generic night sky background mocked him with its emptiness. He hated himself for falling so hard for his boss (of all fucking people!), because now the feelings refused to go away. For more than a week, everywhere he turned, memories rained down on him like plagues, attacking almost every waking moment.

  He had no intentions of giving this up without a fight. He’d called a dozen times. Left voice mails. Sent texts. But to make matters worse, he hadn’t gotten a single fucking response. He’d showed up at the club, only to be turned away by the bouncer. That had been when he’d decided to cool it before he got arrested for stalking. But then he’d seen Ryan in the office, and damn it, he’d just wanted to talk to him. So he’d cornered him in the bathroom, at first planning to ask him if he was still coming to the party. But Ryan hadn’t been having it.

  Ryan fixed him with an ice-cold stare. “If it’s not about business,” he said, “you don’t have anything to say to me.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. You’ve only got a few days left, and either you stay professional, or you’re fired. And you know how fast word travels in the firms in this city.”

  Threatening his livelihood? How professional was that? Instinct told him since Ryan had taken the first stab, to cut back and cut deeper. Jack almost threatened him with exposure. But it would have just been anger talking. He wouldn’t have meant it and would have regretted saying it for the rest of his life. Partly because it was a shitty thing to do, but mostly because he’d never get Ryan back if he did. Wounded, Jack bit his tongue. Throat suddenly dry, he swallowed and licked his lips. “I just want to hold you,” he said, barely more than a whisper. If Ryan heard it, he pretended not to.

  “So do you have anything business-related to discuss?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then I guess you’d better get back to work.”

  And he was gone.

  The rest of the day, Jack had only seen glimpses of him: rounding a corner here, closing a conference room door there.

  What was he supposed to do? Let it all go and pretend like the best time of his life hadn’t happened?

  Fat fucking chance.

  “Did someone shoot your dog or something?” a voice came from behind him. He turned to find his cousin standing there. He was a slender man with a mess of dirty-blond hair that looked like he hadn’t taken a comb to it in about six years.

  “I don’t have a dog, Cal.”

  “So why are you standing here looking all sad and shit? It’s your fucking birthday and you’re bringing everyone down.”

  Jack scoffed. “No one’s even paying attention to me. They probably don’t even know I’m here.”

  “Oh stop acting like a little bitch whose boyfriend left her.” That one got him. Right in the heart. “Everyone knows you’re here. We all came out here for you.”

  He tried to fake an interested smile and failed. He scanned the crowd again, this time looking for anyone, even one person, looking in his direction.

  Not even one.

  He did see his mother, though, chatting up the bartender as he slid another martini her way. He shook his head. Flirting until you got what you wanted was the Kieza way. But that gene must have skipped him, because he’d never been any good at it. If he had, Ryan would be standing next to him, and they’d probably be deep in their own conversation and ignoring everyone else in the room.

  Jack chewed the inside of his cheek. When Ryan was around, there was no one else. The world was just the two of them.

  Fingers snapped in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to dipshit!” Jack turned his attention back to his cousin. “Are you listening to me?”

  “Not really, no.”

  Cal’s face went red and, for a moment, it looked like he might deck Jack. But instead he forced a grin and clapped Jack on the shoulder. “Watch yourself,” he said. “It’s not going to be your birthday much longer.”

  He gave Jack a warning look and disappeared into a crowd of people who Jack might have met before.

  God, he didn’t know most of the people here. Why had he agreed to come in the first place? Another peek at his mother as she swirled an olive in her glass reminded him. She’d been badgering him since his last birthday. Because “You only turn thirty once.” He could hear her saying it so clearly that she might have been standing right next to him instead of across the room.

  Biting his bottom lip, he checked his phone again. Still empty. He knew nothing was wrong with it, but rebooted it just in case. Sometimes he’d do that and get texts that hadn’t made it through before. When nothing pinged, he cast one last longing glance at the door and, grudgingly, made his rounds.

  He spent almost half an hour forcing laughter. Faking smiles. Same old tired thing he did at business dinners. He tr
ied to focus on the things people said to him, but they might as well have been speaking another language.

  Finally, he came to his immediate family.

  “—punched his fucking face in.” Laughter erupted from his sister, brother, and his parents as Cal mimed hitting someone.

  He didn’t know what he’d walked into, but already he was planning escape routes. He couldn’t just pretend that he’d been walking past them. Maybe he could fake a bathroom emergency, though. Or act like his aunt Sasha had called to him; he’d spotted her across the room pouring whatever was in her glass into a plant. Cal’s mother was by no means a saint, but Jack liked her better than the jackals he found himself next to now.

  “That’ll teach them,” his father said. “Fucking faggots.”

  His mother’s face was a mask of disgust. “I don’t understand why a man would do that to himself. Being gay is bad enough, but why would you want to dress like a woman?”

  “I bet he won’t do that shit again.” Cal’s face twisted into a proud sneer, and then Jack really did need to make a bathroom run. His stomach churned, the taste in his mouth metallic. He had to choke down the vomit before he tossed it over everyone standing in front of him.

  “What did you do?” he blurted before he could stop himself. His cousin had just admitted to beating someone he’d interpreted to be a man dressed like a woman, hadn’t he? Cal had a temper on him, Jack knew that from childhood and the many run-ins with cops. Was it really that far a leap from beating someone to other, darker things? Jack’s brain swam with pictures of men in dumpsters, throats slashed from ear to ear. But Cal wasn’t capable of that? Was he?

  Cal glared at him like he knew everything he’d been doing over the last few weeks. And with who.

  “Some queer thought it would be a good idea to try his hand with me. Dressed up like a chick and thought I wouldn’t notice. So I showed him what we do to freaks like him.”

  Jack shook his head. “Not all of us.”