by Lucian Clark
Turns out Gideon Bellview wasn’t related to Jack, quite the opposite actually. At almost twice Jack’s age, Gideon was his husband. Every photo of Mr. Bellview had Jack either at his side, or shrinking away from the camera with sunglasses on and his hand up. The articles barely even mentioned him by name, which was strange. Gideon always seemed to tower over Jack, not just due to Jack’s slight frame, but also because of his demeanor. He almost seemed like he was guarding Jack. Dude was built like a linebacker. It would be surprising if Gideon didn’t play football in high school. Kind of ironic for a tech mogul.
So, Jack was married. Interesting. I never noticed a ring on Jack’s finger. There were no articles about a divorce, which meant he went to Helena’s trying to hide his marriage. In fact, the most recent was from a week ago, talking about some charity event. In all the photos, Gideon was beaming, with an arm wrapped tightly around Jack. What was his deal? Once again, more questions than answers.
All the articles were about how successful Gideon was, having inherited the business from his father, or about the wedding and how shocked – and disappointed – everyone was with the news that Gideon was gay. The articles repeatedly talked about how they met through that mental health and suicide awareness charity. After his generous donation, Jack and Gideon moved quick. They married several months later, with Jack still not yet nineteen. Real scandalous shit. It seems like Jack became a house husband, barely mentioned as the articles went on. The oldest articles still excluded his full name referring to him as just Jack or Gideon’s lover which explained why he was so hard to find. Gideon was almost as elusive as Jack, and probably would have been if it wasn’t for the preexisting money and fame. As a college football player (called it), not much was said about him. Straight facts such as height (6’3”) weight (270lbs), hometown (Newark, NJ) and the same information about his money, success, and marriage, over and over again. Another dead end.
I doubt Jack was looking for hook-ups since the entire bar avoided him like a rat with the plague. Even when I tried to approach him, he did his best to avoid me and push me away when I persisted. He wasn’t there for the chit-chat either. So why did he go to Helena’s? What was his game? Some type of retreat? Away from where? His marriage with an absolute tank of a husband, who had money to back up those hard and chiseled looks? Images of that purple and blue galaxy across his face came back to mind. A coincidence? Suddenly the body language in all those photos looked a lot more sinister.
Maybe I was imagining things and, while his marriage may not have been perfect, some nights Jack just needed to get away? Seemed pretty normal to me. What if he got into a fight that first night? Got mugged? Just because he has one bruise doesn’t mean anything. I was imagining things and going there to be away after a lover’s spat would explain the distance between visits too. My stomach rolled and clenched, spilling bile into my throat. Something didn’t sit right with me about the whole thing. If that was the truth, why was he so damned afraid? But, abuse? Christ, Judah. The fuck is wrong with you? Time for a shot and to call it a night.
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The next night I went to Helena’s as usual. Going had become a habit and no one bothered me, which was a bonus. After working with people all day sometimes you just want to exist outside of the world. Helena’s offered that space for me. Might as well stop by, have a few drinks, and maybe catch a glimpse of my mystery man. I would occasionally still see Jack, but he always acted as if he was avoiding me. Every time he left, I felt that familiar pang in my stomach. He said to leave him alone though, so I did. Never ignoring him though, I would send the occasional drink down and wave at him. Had to let him know I was still interested in talking to him, even if he wasn’t interested in talking to me. The drinks were never sent back or ignored, so I hoped there was still a shot. Pun intended.
I’m not quite sure what changed, but one night Jack sat next to me – not in the corner under the neon pink sign like he normally did. He sat right next to me in the middle of the bar and locked his eyes with mine. Tonight he wore a long black dress that fell to his ankles. A seemingly plain outfit if not for the fine mesh that covered his upper chest, shoulders, and arms. Once again, clearly meant for someone with cleavage.
“Why?” No hello, no good evening, nothing. I blinked in surprise, which seemed to annoy him. He sighed and rubbed his temples. “What is it? What do you want? Money?” Sleek fingers started to fumble in his bag, nails still painted black but accented with gold stars and silver moons that glittered in the light.
“Woah. What?” My hand eclipsed his as I stopped him, shaking my head. “No, I don’t want money. Shit, this whole time you thought I wanted money?”
“Sex then? I’m married,” he said. Married sounded weird on his tongue, like he wasn’t used to telling people that. There was still no ring that I could see on his finger.
“Dude, I just think you seem interesting.” Now it was Jack’s turn to blink in surprise. Heat rose in my cheeks as we stared at each other. “Plus, you’re beautiful.” I blurted out.
Probably not the right thing to say as Jack ripped his hand from mine, curling a red stained lip. He went to say something, but I quickly cut him off. I couldn’t ruin this chance. Not again. You don’t get third chances, according to my knowledge. But then again, you aren’t supposed to get second chances either, right?
“Sorry, sorry. Married.” I raised my hands apologetically and he eyed me. There was a clarity to that look I hadn’t seen before, maybe because this was the first time he wasn’t crying. The tension was palpable, and the other patrons at the bar noticed it. One more misstep and Jack would be gone. All three of them got up and moved to one of the pool tables, leaving just Jack and I, staring at each other alone at the bar. Well, except for the bartender.
“I’m new-ish in town. I don’t know anyone. Just humor me?” Jack settled down in his seat more as I spoke. He tapped the bar, thinking it over. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t leave either. That’s when I noticed the black cross that was behind his left ear. The lines were blurred and faded, a stick-and-poke from Lord knows how many years ago.
“Were you like twelve when you got that tattoo?” I asked, pointing. Sure, it wasn’t the most polite way to ask about a tattoo, but the words came without a second thought.
Jack laughed and tucked his hair behind his ear, covering the offending tattoo.
“I was sixteen and rebellious! I was thinking about what would really piss my parents off. Something that they couldn’t take or hide from the Catholic school.” Jack laughed again and clicked his tongue. The bartender brought over Jack’s usual, eyeing me with visible confusion.
“Whiskey.” I ordered. Might as well if he was already over here. Jack looked at me and raised his beer.
“Guess we will be here a bit, huh?” He took a swig of beer. The flush on his cheeks was noticeable and his eyes swam with the dim lights of the bar.
“I figured a cross tattoo would really show them.” His fingers pressed against the black cross. A permanent mark of teenage rebellion with zero forethought. Ah, to be young and careless. He clicked his tongue again before shaking his head. “Well, now the good Lord has his mark on me whether I want Him to or not.” Jack crossed himself before taking another drink. “Got away with it for a whole month too.” I couldn’t help but laugh which caused Jack to snort his beer and swat at me.
He was mesmerizing to watch. His hands accented everything he said, pointing and waving. Even the bartender was looking over and watching us as Jack told the story of his tattoos, all gotten in his youth, before he was married. There was a blackbird on his right shoulder signifying death, the snake around his right arm, complete with apple in its mouth to signify sin. At one point, he lifted his ankle-length black dress to show his entire left leg with an elaborate design of patterns, all radiating from a candle that took up his shin – hope. Every tattoo had a meaning.
“Hurt like a motherfucker.” Jack said as he tapped the candle. �
��Worth it though. All reminders of the life I left behind.” A familiar sadness crept into his voice and eyes as he spoke. Another drink to wash it down.
“For someone who considers themselves a ‘lapsed Catholic’ you certainly have a few religious symbols.” I said, pointing specifically at the snake on his arm.
“Yea, well, religion is nothing but symbolism and I can appreciate good symbolism. Clearly.” Jack smirked, raising an eyebrow like I amused him. Or he thought I was stupid.
“I have quite a few myself.” I interjected.
“Religious symbols or tattoos?” Jack asked coyly.
“Tattoos-”
In a flash, Jack grabbed my right arm and flipped it, dragging his fingers along the knife I had tattooed there. His eyes sparkled as he watched his own fingers trace the lines, moving to the small birds I had along my elbow and upper arm. The decals on his fingernails glimmered in the light accenting his movements. My tattoos seemed to mesmerize him.
His fingers rested on my wrist, pressing into the set of lines I had there. “So, what do they mean?”
“Well, the ones under your fingers are cat whiskers, in memory of my childhood cat, Leo. The knife is literally because I thought it looked cool on the flash sheet. The birds were supposed to be a whole sunset piece but…I ran out of time and money.” I shrugged. Jack looked disappointed. God, he was cute when he pouted.
“All things should have meaning.” He said to me, matter of fact.
“If you want one with meaning, I have a bread and roses tattoo on my left side.” I wiggled free of Jack’s prying grasp to lift my shirt. I shuddered as Jack’s fingers began to poke at the roses entwined with wheat grains across my ribs. “I’m a dirty socialist, sorry if that’s a deal breaker.” He ignored my politics as he continued to admire the tattoo across my side.
“I have roses on my hips. Black ones.” Jack’s words were flat. Too much focus on the details of the wheat. His finger even stopped on a spot where the red was beginning to fade on the roses indicating their age – my first tattoo and the one that hurt the most.
“I hope I can see them one day.” No sooner had the words left my mouth did I stop. I bit my tongue. Did I really just say that? My heart thumped in my chest and I looked at Jack. His hands slowly pulled from my side and my stomach hurt. I was a fucking moron.
“I should leave.” Jack stated plainly. All friendliness from his voice was gone. Knocking back the rest of his third beer, and grabbing his bag in one swift motion, Jack was up from his seat. He kept his face downcast so I couldn’t see his eyes, shadowed by his hair.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” My pleas were ignored as Jack walked out the door. I had blown it. You don’t get third chances. Not with a guy like that. My head thudded against the bar and I sighed heavily.
“Well, guess you’re not gonna be kissing him, huh?” The bartender spoke, probably the first words he had spoken directly to me, as he dropped another whiskey in front of me.
“Yea, no shit, he’s married.” I grumbled and drained the glass.
III.
Night after night I would pay and leave, waiting for Jack to come back. I kept returning to Helena’s, despite the fact you usually don’t get third chances. Why not? Hope and determination had worked before. Eventually, everyone there started treating me like they treated Jack – a ghost. The bartender would just slide drinks down to me and that was that. The other regulars stopped gossiping when I came in. Nothing else really mattered at that time. I just needed to see him again. Time wasn’t something I paid attention to unless it was time to leave and half the time I was practically dragged out by the bartender. All I needed was a chance to apologize for my behavior. Unfortunately, the next time I saw Jack, I quickly learned the true reason why everyone at Helena’s turned a blind eye to his existence.
When I came in that unfortunate night, Jack was already there in his usual spot. However, a tall and muscular fellow was sitting next to him. The man was wearing a tailored suit and sunglasses perched on top of his cleanly shaven head. There was no mistaking that brutish yet handsome face that looked as if it were sculpted from brick. Gideon Bellview. He looked like every image I had seen on him online, despite some of them being over 10 years old. Either good genetics or the Botox money, my bet was on the latter. Giving them their own space, I sat a few seats away, ordered my drink, and kept an eye on them. Seeming to mock me, the light that normally sheltered Jack bounced off Gideon’s head, obscuring Jack in almost total darkness. Gideon was much more intimidating in person.
Even with Gideon blocking my view I could still see Jack’s outline. He was cowering against the wall. Whatever conversation they were having, I couldn’t hear it over the music. Not a pleasant one from the way Jack was glued to the wall. Whatever was going on, no one paid them any mind. Everyone knew what was going on in that corner but they chose to ignore it. I caught Jack’s eyes out of the corner of mine as Gideon shifted his weight in his seat. Fear flashed wildly in those dark sockets. He looked like a cornered mouse with a snake ready to strike, his eyes wide enough to be catching the light and filled with all-too-familiar tears.
I had to do something.
Tension filled the air as I walked straight up to Gideon. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the bar.
“Gideon Bellview, right? My name is Judah. I’m a friend of Jack’s.” I wiggled my fingers at Jack in a wave then extended my hand to Gideon which was met with confusion.
“Excuse me?” Gideon said in a monotone voice.
“I’m Judah. A friend of Jack’s.” I repeated the words, letting my hand fall to my side. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Jack. He rolled his bottom lip through his teeth, chewing on it enough that I saw red. Was I making another mistake?
“Is that so, Jacques?” Goose bumps crept across my arms as Gideon drew out Jack’s full name. Such contempt. Was this truly his husband?
“He’s…he’s spoken to me a few times.” The words were barely audible. Jack hiccuped over a sob. “That’s all.” Why was Gideon so seemingly upset that I had spoken to Jack? It’s not like anything was going on. Jack was already crying. What had they been fighting about before I came over? A shiver ran down my spine.
“Is this true,” he paused, turning in his seat and towering over me, “Judah?” I’m not a small person, but sitting on the stool Gideon was still considerably bigger than me in both height and weight. The man was imposing, but I had squared up to men his size before. I had lost, but I stood my ground. That mattered more to me anyway.
“Yuh. I’m new in town. Figured Jack could help me out.” I grinned and looked over at Jack who was staring at me with that same, distant watery gaze I had seen the first night at Helena’s. He was gone, somewhere else. Somewhere far away from both Gideon and I.
Clearing my throat, I continued to trade pleasantries. “So, uh, Gideon, what brings you here tonight? Jack has mentioned you a few times, but I wondered why I never saw you.” Gideon ignored my question, instead turning back to his husband.
“You know the rules.” Gideon spoke coldly to Jack. Turning the corner of his lip upward into a sneer, Gideon grabbed Jack by the arm. Jack yelped and instantly clamped a hand over his mouth. Tears spilled down his cheeks as they turned towards Gideon.
“I-I’m sorry.” Jack stammered as Gideon stood to his full height. He lifted Jack out of his seat and dragged him towards the door. Jack’s apologies fell out his mouth a mile a minute, but I understood none of them. They were all directed at Gideon as he dragged him through the front door. The slamming door echoed through out the bar and I realized everyone was still staring at me. Every single one of them had their mouth open in disbelief.
“What?” A coldness shot through me as I looked at each one of those faces. My heart stopped. I understood why no one talked to Jack. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to, it’s that they couldn’t. Had Gideon threatened every one of them? Could he do that?
By the time I ran to the door, they were gone.
Meeting Gideon left a sour taste in my mouth. Everything was wrong. The way he talked to Jack. The way he looked at him. There was no love there, only anger and disdain – contempt. How could Jack stay with someone like that? Let alone for years? Alcohol mixed with bile in my mouth at the thought.
Maybe it wasn’t always like that and I caught Gideon on a bad night? Maybe the “rules” were something else. But, even on a bad night, who controls who their partner talks to like that? Gideon seemed offended that I had even so much as addressed Jack, let alone in a friendly manner, several times. Would explain why everyone in Helena’s avoided Jack if that is how Gideon treated people who talked to his husband. “Jealous type” didn’t even begin to cover it.
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It was a week before I saw Jack again. He slunk into the bar, hands clutched to his chest as he sat in his spot. His eyes were downcast and he seemed to be nervously fidgeting with something around his neck. The golden ring caught the light and I realized it was his wedding band. Had he always worn it like that? I didn’t think so considering how low-cut some of his previous outfits had been.
I moved next to him like I always did. He glanced over at me and smiled faintly. Not the type of greeting I expected after the last meeting. We sat in quiet for awhile. The last time I had seen him, Gideon was sitting where I was. My stomach rolled at the thought of being that close to that man. I had no idea where to start or what to say or what to even do. Apologize, I thought to myself. That was the only thing I could think to do but before I swallowed my nerves, Jack spoke.