by Andrew Grey
Once the game was over, another came on, but Arty had had enough. He took care of the dishes and went to his room to lie on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Arty,” Jamie said, cracking the door open.
“It’s okay,” Arty said. “You can watch sports if you like.” He wasn’t going to be a jerk about it. Basketball wasn’t his thing, but Jamie really seemed to love it, and he wasn’t going to expect him to deny himself what he liked. “Did you play back home?”
“When I was a kid, I like to think I was pretty good. But as I got older, it took up more and more time, and Dad put an end to it. There was work to be done on the farm.” Jamie sighed. “So now I enjoy watching.”
“That’s cool. I was more into the arts, myself.” Arty hated that Jamie had been forced to give up something he loved. That seemed to be a real pattern for him.
“Maybe we could go for a walk later,” Jamie said, and smiled. “And I thought I’d make dinner tonight if that’s okay.”
“That would be great,” Arty agreed, and Jamie leaned over the bed. Some time alone, just the two of them, would be nice. They shared a kiss, and then Jamie left the room, closing the door after him. Arty closed his eyes, wondering again what it would be like to have Jamie to look at each night and first thing in the morning. The last few weeks had been amazing, but he was well aware that good things didn’t last forever—at least they didn’t for him. His romantic past was a shambles. His career had been up and down like a deep-drop roller coaster. Hell, he was scared to make plans at all because they were only blowing up in his face. He sighed and pushed all that out of his head and tried to sleep. Maybe rest would give him a better perspective.
Arty eventually fell asleep and woke with Jamie lying next to him, an arm around his waist, draped over his belly. He closed his eyes again, and Jamie drew closer, as if he was cold. “I should check on Dad,” Arty said softly, but Jamie held him tighter, and Arty really didn’t want to move. He had no idea what time it was, but his body forced him out of bed and over to the bathroom. When he returned, Jamie had gotten up.
“I’d better start dinner, or we’ll be eating at midnight.” He left the room, and Arty followed, figuring he would help.
Jamie didn’t make anything too fancy, but burgers with onions and cheese sure smelled good, and his dad joined them in the kitchen. It was pretty plain that his foot was hurting, but Arty was pleased that he came in to eat with them. And while they waited for Jamie to finish, he went over the catch details and the proceeds of the last run with his dad.
“You sold it locally,” his dad said.
“Yes. I spoke with Gerald, and I think he learned his lesson. I don’t want the plant to go under. It’s important to the local economy. But I don’t want people cheated either. I think we understand one another.” At least he hoped that was true. “And look at the difference. Overall, there was a thousand dollars more for the trip because we got a better price. That’s pretty big.”
Even his dad had to admit that it was. “What’s next?”
“Jamie is going to New York in a few days, and I’m going to find someone to replace him on the crew and go out next week again. I have to fish if we’re going to make a living, though if our luck holds, we could reach our quota well before the season ends with fewer runs and less expense.” All he wanted was to make enough that his father could return to his job on an even footing, both literally and financially.
His dad nodded and seemed to withdraw. Arty wondered if it was because he might be doing better at fishing than his dad had been. He hadn’t meant to hurt his dad, just help him. Jamie brought over the burgers, and Arty left the figures with his dad, getting plates and drinks. By the time he was done, Jamie had the food on the table, and they sat down to eat.
His dad turned on the small television off to the side and found an old western, watching it as he ate. Arty wanted to turn the damn thing off, but he didn’t want to start a fight. He didn’t understand why his father wouldn’t just talk with him. It didn’t matter what the conversation was. But his dad would rather watch TV.
“Tomorrow we can get ready for your trip,” Arty said to Jamie. Arty also planned to tell Jamie as much about his new city as he could. He wanted Jamie to be ready for the changes ahead, even though he would have given anything to be able to take Jamie around New York himself.
Chapter 10
HE AND Arty took a walk and talked after dinner, with Arty trying to tell him absolutely everything about the Big Apple. Jamie was afraid his head was going to explode… but he couldn’t wait to get there. Only this wasn’t how he had planned to go—alone. Arty’s friend Ryan would be there to meet him and all, but it wasn’t going to be the same. And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about it.
But lying in bed with Arty softly snoring next to him took away some of the jitters, especially when Arty rolled over and hugged him close. He’d spent the last few hours staring at the ceiling thinking about his father. Lately, his dad had become a tyrant, trying to force him to do what he wanted. It was as if he thought that his way was the only way and that Jamie should just toe the line. Things hadn’t always been that way. He closed his eyes and let his mind go back to the times when his mom and dad had taken him swimming. He and his dad used to race to the swim platform, and his dad usually let him win. Jamie knew that man was part of his father as well. He only wished his dad would let him out sometimes. But people changed, and maybe that part of his dad was truly gone and probably only existed in Jamie’s memories. The father he had now would never willingly let Jamie live the life he wanted, so Jamie’s only option was to do it without his support. He had already come this far. He wasn’t going to turn back now.
Jamie sighed quietly, hoping he was making the right decision.
“You have nothing to be worried about. The way I see it, you’re going to take New York by storm. They aren’t going to know what hit them.” Arty chuckled, and Jamie slowly rolled over, drawing nearer until his lips pressed to Arty’s.
He loved how Arty seemed to have more confidence in him than Jamie did in himself. It was like there was someone behind him, rooting for him—his own personal cheering section. Jamie had never had that before. “Come here,” Jamie whispered, tugging Arty on top of him. He ran his fingers down Arty’s side, and Arty writhed and laughed out loud.
“Ticklish,” Arty warned, and Jamie did it again, only to have Arty retaliate, and soon they were giggling and squirming, tossing the covers onto the floor. “We need to be quiet. Dad’s asleep.”
Jamie settled down. “I think it’s too late for that. If your dad is a light sleeper, I’m pretty sure the fact that the bed banged the wall is going to wake him up.” Jamie felt heat rising to his cheeks. “Maybe he’ll just think you’re fucking me and it’s a head-banger.” He covered his mouth with his hand as he snickered.
“A head-banger?”
“Yeah. You know, fucking someone with enough force that they bang their head on the headboard over and over again. You’ve never heard of that?” Jamie teased.
“Have you ever done it?” Arty stalked up the bed toward him. “It sounds hotter than it really is. By the time you’re done, the headache lasts for days and all the fun’s over… at least, so I hear.” Arty grinned as he came closer. “Ryan is a real fan, so if you hear banging in the night, just close your eyes and try not to think about it. Ryan can go for hours, so….” Arty came even closer, and as soon as he got near his lips, Arty lost it and started laughing. “Dang, I almost had it.”
Jamie smacked him on the shoulder. “That was a mean thing to say about your friend.”
“Mean? You just wait till you hear all the kinky stuff he gets up to.” Arty held him down on the bed, still chuckling for a few seconds before growing serious. Arty captured his lips, and the mirth disappeared, replaced with instant passion. Damn, the way Arty could make him want and think of only one thing with just a kiss…. Jamie wound his arms around his neck, pulling him nearer, wanting more and determin
ed to get it, even if it was three in the morning.
Jamie settled on the mattress, getting comfortable, wrapping his legs around Arty’s waist. He was so hot, and the warmth increased by the second. “We can’t be like we were on Katherine’s boat, where you scared the fish,” Arty whispered.
“Me? I seem to remember a certain person yelling at the top of his lungs,” Jamie countered. “You frightened everything in the eastern Gulf.” Jamie cut off the argument with another kiss. Comfort, warmth, heat, passion, ecstasy…. One quickly followed the other, and soon Jamie lay still, both of them bathed in a sheen of sweat, satiated and quiet, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing.
Arty got one of his secret towels, wiping them both up before adding it to the laundry, and then sleep washed over Jamie after a few minutes of wondering how he was going to manage without Arty.
Jamie had quickly grown to count on Arty being there for him… and it was amazing going to sleep next to him. But now he was headed to New York, alone. Their separation would only be for a few weeks, and Jamie was going to have plenty to keep him busy when he got there, but still, it was going to be a huge adjustment. Jamie wondered if he should wait for Arty here, and take whatever his father had to dish out. But Arty and his dad didn’t need the drama that would come with a visit from Jamie’s dad. Besides, the ticket had already been bought, and Jamie was on his way toward a dream he had never really thought would come true.
“Just go to sleep. We can sort out everything else in the morning.” Arty pulled him closer. “You’re going to do great, I know it. New York is just like any other city, only bigger, and Ryan will be there to help you stay out of trouble.”
“Trouble? Me?” Jamie asked.
“Yeah. I can tell you’re a real wild man. I can see it now. You’ll be out until all hours, getting drunk, coming home with a different guy every night….” Arty chuckled. “Just as long as the guy each night is me.”
Jamie closed his eyes. “You’re the only one I want.” He let sleep overtake him as Arty gently kissed his shoulder. They didn’t talk any more, and Jamie sighed as he drifted off. He still had plenty to be nervous about, but he felt better. If Arty thought he could do it, then he wasn’t going to let him down.
THE NEXT day, his last in Florida, Jamie helped Arty get the boat ready for the next fishing run. They went for a walk, and Katherine took them both out on her boat to watch the dolphins play in the bay. They spent all their time together, and Jamie didn’t want to let Arty out of his sight. It seemed like they’d had so little time to actually be together, and now Jamie was going to be leaving.
His father had called one more time, and this time he’d seemed more reasonable, even plaintive, until Jamie had told him yet again that his ticket was purchased and that he was leaving. Then his dad got angry in his usual way, even threatening to come to New York to find him. All Jamie had done was wish him good luck. “New York isn’t Iowa, where you know everyone and there are no secrets. People disappear in New York, absorbed by the masses.” He’d paused. “Dad, are you really trying to make me hate you? Is that it? Do you want me to be miserable? To come home so you can treat me badly?” That was received with stony silence. “I need to make my own way, Dad.” He didn’t give his father a chance to pick up steam once again. “I’ll call once I’m there to let you know that I made it okay.” He had ended the call and felt somewhat better. He had finally said his piece, and his dad might have listened this time.
Arty got him checked in for his flight and made sure he was packed. He had no idea it could be so hard to say goodbye to someone he had known only a matter of weeks, but Jamie didn’t want to go. He had found someone who seemed to not only understand him, but who encouraged him and saw that he was worthwhile. And not just because he was strong or worked hard. Arty liked him for who he was, warts, short temper, and all. That was hard to let go of, even for a little while.
His flight was early in the morning, and Arty got him up and drove him the hour across the bridges to the Tampa airport. He pulled into the departure area under the overhang, and Jamie sat in the passenger seat, tempted to ask Arty to take him back. But he reached for the car door and paused. “You’ll be out as soon as you can, right?” Jamie asked, biting his lower lip.
“Yes. I have to see my dad through this, and then I’ll be back. It shouldn’t be more than a few weeks. I’m going to make a call today to my agent and ask her to meet with you. I can’t guarantee anything, and she might only give you five minutes, but it’s something. Margaret is tough as nails, but she knows talent and a great look when she sees it.” Arty leaned over the seat, and Jamie kissed him. “Just go and have fun. I’ll be up as soon as I can get there. Remember to put on the sweater and heavy coat before leaving the airport. You’re going to need it.”
“I’m from Iowa; I understand cold.” He smiled and kissed Arty one more time before leaving the car and getting his suitcase and small backpack out of the back seat. It was everything he had in the world. When he closed the door, Arty waved and then pulled away. Jamie stood outside the terminal doors and sighed. He was off on another adventure. He just wished he was doing it with Arty. Taking a deep breath, he took a step toward the terminal and went inside, checked in at the airline counter, then dropped off his suitcase and got in line for security.
It was too late now to turn back. He had already left Iowa to try to find a better life, and now, because of Arty—well, in part, anyway—he was on to the next stop in his dream.
“RYAN?” JAMIE asked as he stepped out of the terminal at Newark and into the frigid wind.
“Yes.” The small, agile-looking man in a thick coat that almost dwarfed him hugged him and then tugged Jamie back inside. “I don’t have a car. We need to get to the train station so we can get into the city.”
“Oh. I feel sort of dumb for suggesting we meet by the doors, then.” It was obvious he had quite a bit to learn.
“Don’t worry about it. This time of year, I try to stay inside as much as I can. Not that it’s going to matter. The subway is going to be cold anyway.” Ryan led him through the airport and then down to the train station. He bought two tickets and carried Jamie’s backpack for him. “This will take a few minutes, then we’re going to have to change trains, but we’ll get close to the building.” He stopped on the platform. “How was your flight?”
“Pretty smooth,” Jamie answered. “Is everything here always so… busy?”
“Yes. It’s all rush, rush, rush around here most of the time. You’ll get used to it.” The lights near the track began to flash, and then a train pulled in. Ryan said it was the one they wanted, and Jamie hurried on board after him. He ended up standing with his suitcase on the floor between his legs, clutching handhold as the train doors closed and they pulled forward. “Don’t let this stuff overwhelm you or anything. Once we get to the apartment, you can settle in. And since I don’t have to work tomorrow, I can show you around the neighborhood, and you can learn where to get what you need.”
Jamie nodded, watching everyone around him, keeping hold of his suitcase as the train rumbled along, sometimes squeaking and groaning its way along the tracks. The section of what Ryan said was a tunnel under the river took a while and was smooth, long, and stuffy. Once they began to climb again, Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. When they pulled into the next station, Ryan had them get off and climb upward to another track, where they got on another train. Stop after stop passed, and then Ryan signaled that they were next.
By the time they got back up to street level, the sound of the city was deafening. At least, that’s the way it seemed to Jamie. He had never been anywhere so noisy.
“We’re just over here. This part of town is the East Village. Well, sort of. Our building is just on the edge.”
Jamie nodded, looking around at the buildings near him. “I thought they were all skyscrapers.”
“Downtown is, and so is Midtown. This part of the city doesn’t have the bedrock that those areas have,
so they don’t build as tall. I think it makes it nicer.” Ryan unlocked the front door of a four-story building and led the way up to the top floor.
“Wow, you do this all the time?” Jamie asked.
“Yeah. Arty and I have gotten used to the steps. It’s an older building, so it doesn’t have an elevator.” Ryan unlocked the door, and Jamie went inside.
The apartment was small, with a single room that served as dining, kitchen, and living space. “Arty’s room is right here and you can go right on in. It’s not very big, but nothing is, here in the city. The bathroom is right there.” Ryan pulled off his coat and took it to his room. Jamie went into Arty’s room, and there was barely enough space to get around the bed. He set his bag on the single, small chair in the corner and wondered where he was going to put his things. Jamie figured he could live pretty much out of his suitcase until Arty got here and told him where things went.
Jamie sat on the edge of the bed and called Arty. “I made it and I’m sitting in your room.”
“Awesome. There’s a closet just outside. It’s small, but you can put anything you want to hang up in there. I wasn’t expecting company when I left, so the dresser is pretty full.”
“It’s okay.” He’d figure things out.
“I called Margaret, and she said that she would meet you at her office tomorrow at three. I’m going to text you the address. Be there at least ten minutes early, and she’ll probably give you five minutes, no more.”
“Do I talk about what I’ve done or—”
“Hit her with your best shot. Play a character and do it to the hilt. Don’t talk about yourself and where you grew up… all that stuff will come out if she’s interested,” Arty said.