by A. C. Katt
Liam moaned, “Please, love, more.”
Milo worried at the tip of Liam’s erection with his teeth, building up the tension gradually, making his lover feel every swipe of his mouth and tongue.
“Milo, I’m gonna—”
Liam spurted into Milo’s mouth. Milo swallowed all his lover had to give him.
“Come up here, love,” Liam begged. “I want to make you feel good, too.”
“No, baby, this time was just for you. Let’s get a shower and go out for breakfast. Then we can shop for a bench for the garden. I haven’t spent any time there either, and I want to watch you play the guitar as I tend the flowers. I want to do so many things, baby, but I only want to do them with you.”
Chapter 7
Recycling
Out there is no hope for me
My love, he listens to the liar
The gods themselves hear not my plea
They stake my heart and set the fire
The truth he doesn’t wish to see
So, I’m bound onto the pyre
A martyr to love
By his decree
A martyr to love
By his decree
—Liam O’Shea, “Into the Fire,” Just Liam
* * * *
Playing the Meadowlands in New Jersey always felt like coming home for Liam. Shattered Glass made a tradition of beginning a tour in Madison Square Garden and ending at home in New Jersey. Regardless, the backstage of any arena or stadium, large or small, usually followed the same design. They placed the dressing and hospitality rooms underground, made the walls of cinderblock, and installed few amenities.
They’d just flown in from London the night before and everyone dragged ass from jet lag. The tour had been hellish. Rick got it wrong more times than right, and Bart took every chance he could to mess with Liam’s head. However, Milo acted attentive throughout the whole tour, and Liam finally began to see why touring was more grueling for him than for the rest of the band.
The entourage now consisted of one hundred and thirty people—equipment specialists, sound engineers, setup and breakdown crews, special effects, lighting, makeup. All of these people depended on Shattered Glass for their livelihood. Sam attended half of the dates, but he had his office to run and other clients, so most of the work fell on control-freak Milo’s shoulders because he refused to hire a manager.
Milo was called away to handle yet another crisis. Liam found himself alone in the dressing room and strumming his guitar. He looked around and realized one of the assistants forgot to deliver the usual case of water for use onstage and off. Rather than bother Milo with such a small detail, Liam went looking for someone to tell.
He wandered into Rick’s dressing room to see if he and Bart needed anything.
“Rick, they forgot to deliver the—”
Liam fell silent. He stared down at the proof of what Danny told him. Strewn across the table he saw drug paraphernalia and coke lines laid out on a mirror.
“Shit, how long have you been snorting? You know how Milo feels about drugs in the band.”
“Milo’s not my fucking father, kid. Unlike you, I’m a big boy and I can do as I please.”
“But you’ve been screwing up the sets for the whole tour. You are damaging the band. I have to tell Milo and Sam. We need to get you some help.”
Bart strode in from the anteroom. “Open your mouth, kid, and you’re the one who is going to need help. If you do something to break up this band, Milo will shed you like a snake sheds skin. You’re not the only singer in rock and roll. Nor are you the only singer who can fuck like a bunny. I’d satisfy him easily. You just cling on like the helpless and pitiful little rabbit you are.”
“Look, I don’t give a flying fuck what you think of me, but Rick is family. I’m not going to let you fuck with my family.”
“We’ll see who fucks with who, kid.”
Liam stalked out, found the water, and searched for Milo. He finally found him with only fifteen minutes to curtain. “Milo, I need to talk to you.”
“Baby, go get your costume on. We’ll talk later.”
The band assembled on the stage. The arena loomed pitch black. The lights came up first red, then blue, the spotlight illuminated the stage, and the band began the set with their signature upbeat tune, “Living on the Wild Side.” Twenty-thousand fans went wild. The lights pulsed to the beat of the music. A spot glared on Milo and Liam. They played the intro chords and started to sing.
We’re living on the wild side
Rowing against the incoming tide
We know that life ain’t fair
Yet we’re going to make it there
Rowing out toward the sun
Inviting you all to come
For a ride to the sky
When the day is done
Milo and Liam shared the microphone, their faces close enough to touch, their voices blending and soaring out into the arena.
They did two sets, finishing with “Lover’s Suite.” The whole stadium rose to their feet. The electricity between Milo and Liam ignited the arena. Sweat poured into their eyes and the backs of their shirts lay plastered to their skin. Hidden cell phones and cameras came out of pockets and purses to take pictures of their idols on stage. The special effects crew set off smoke made from dry ice as the band disappeared into the mist for intermission.
Milo grabbed Liam and drew him into a hug as soon as they made it into the wings. “Baby, I am so ready for home and our own bed. I’m sorry we didn’t bring the cats this time, I miss the little buggers. But tonight, I’m locking the door so we can sleep in and tomorrow we can read the Sunday papers in bed, just like normal folk. What did you need to tell me earlier?”
“Nothing that can’t wait, love. You look exhausted.” Liam kissed his lover’s face and nibbled on his ear as he toweled his hair.
“You know that drives me nuts, baby. Stop. I can’t go back on stage with a boner.”
“Five minutes,” the stage manager called.
“Let’s go and rock them out of their seats,” Milo said.
They did the last set and three encores. Thank God the crew gets to pack up, Liam thought. Security lined the exit, and they escaped into the open door of the limousine at the backstage entrance. His watch read twelve thirty-two.
“Happy birthday, baby,” Milo whispered as he leaned on Liam’s shoulder and fell fast asleep.
* * * *
After the show, Rick panicked. “Bart, he’s going to tell Milo and I’ll be screwed.”
“Don’t be stupid. I won’t let that happen. Look, if the kid rats, I’m in deep shit for giving you the junk. I have an idea. Just go along with what I say and I’ll give you your stuff gratis for the next month or two.”
“Is it going to hurt them?”
“Nah, nothing but the little bastard’s pride. He’ll have to spend so much time wiggling out of this one that he won’t have time to put his fucking nose in our business.”
They left the dressing room and walked past security. Bart spotted a stringer for Sizzle, one of the supermarket rags. “Want an exclusive?”
The kid answered, “Sure thing.”
“Come on into the limo. Where you going?”
“Manhattan.”
“We’ll give you a ride.”
They settled in and as the car zoomed off, Bart said, “I’m going to give you some real dirt, but all you can say is that it came from a source close to the band, okay?”
“Let me get my pad.”
“You know this last tour didn’t go too well.”
“Yeah, everyone was talking.”
“Well, you are going to be the only reporter who knows why, and you are going to print it up and have it in the morning papers.”
“That’s going to be a little difficult, Mr. Hedge.”
“Difficult, but not impossible, especially if the story comes with a bit of grease.”
“Are you talking about a bribe, Mr. Hedge?”
; “No, just a bit of extra incentive. Sizzle doesn’t pay you enough to refuse this, and it’ll get picked up by all of the major dailies.”
“Okay, I’ll bite.”
“Liam O’Shea hasn’t had his head in the music this whole tour because he fucked half the roadies. The kid is a faggot, on top of which he’s high on coke most of the time.”
“I’m not that stupid, Mr. Hedge. Hasn’t he got a thing going on with Milo? Wouldn’t Milo see it?”
“Milo raised the kid. They aren’t lovers, but Milo can’t see what’s right in front of him. Rick and I feel we owe it to the band to open Milo’s eyes so he can straighten the kid out. It’s for his own good.”
Just the other side of the Lincoln Tunnel, the reporter said, “Look, let me out here. If you want this to make the morning papers, I’ve got calls to make.”
“Here kid, take five hundred. You’re doing Shattered Glass a favor, and we don’t forget our friends.” The kid swung open the limo door and headed down the street.
“That should do it, my friend,” Bart said to Rick. “No worries.”
“I don’t know. Milo is a pretty jealous guy.”
“He won’t believe it, coming from a rag like Sizzle, but it will water a seed and make our lives easier.”
* * * *
Despite the late night, Milo got up early the next morning. He had plans for Liam’s twenty-first birthday. He went to the front steps and gathered the newspapers. They usually got the Asbury Park Press and the New York Times. Today he found a copy of Sizzle on the step. He made coffee and took it up on a tray to the bedroom. Later, they would go out to brunch and he would order champagne in celebration.
He found Liam awake and sitting up in bed playing with the cats. “They missed us, Milo,” Liam said as he teased Major with a length of leather shoelace. Minor sat regally on a pillow, busily washing his paws.
“I have coffee and the papers, baby. Happy birthday!” Milo kissed Liam fully on the mouth and handed him a smallish box, wrapped in Tiffany blue with a white bow.
“Can I open it now, love?”
“Of course.”
Liam eagerly removed the ribbon and careful not to rip the paper, uncovered the box. Inside lay a heavy gold ring embedded with diamonds in the initials M&L. The inscription inside it read, Always Mine. Liam threw his arms around Milo in joy, almost upsetting the coffee cups.
“Come on, baby, let’s relax and read the papers,” Milo said. “Then I’m taking you out for an elegant brunch.”
“We’re going out?”
“Yes, I’m taking you out to the fanciest restaurant in town. Maybe tonight we’ll go dancing.”
“You always make me feel so special.”
“That’s because you are my light, my sun in the sky. Now I want to read the papers before the cats decide to nest.”
“What’s this?” Liam picked one out of the pile. “We don’t get Sizzle. It’s a gossip rag.”
“I found it on the step. And I’ve seen you reading it in the supermarket checkout line.”
“Yeah, but how did it wind up on our step?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Just settle down for a little while.”
Liam obediently settled into the curve of Milo’s arm and his curiosity got the better of him. He picked up Sizzle and started to read to the sound of his lover’s laughter.
It took only a few minutes before Liam’s face turned grey. He bolted for the bathroom to throw up with Milo on his heels.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Milo asked.
Liam handed Milo the paper. “Look at the pullout page.”
Milo wiped Liam’s mouth and sat him down on the toilet seat before opening the paper. Placed in the centerfold was full page picture of an exuberant Liam sometime during the last concert tour. The story read, Liam O’Shea, lead singer of Shatter Glass, is gay. Sources close to the band claim that Liam is heavy into cocaine and sex. “He’s screwed nearly everyone in the road crew and is dealing to anyone who will buy…
Milo’s face turned to stone as Liam snarled.
“Who would say such things about me? You know where I am every single minute. I’m either in a venue, a hotel room, or at a rehearsal. When would I have had the time?” Liam looked into Milo’s eyes, begging him to believe him. “This was Bart. I caught him giving coke to Rick last night and I threatened to tell you. He warned me to keep my mouth shut. This is his revenge.”
Milo, still stone-faced replied in a tone that dripped icicles, “Bart wouldn’t do this. It would put the band at risk. Neither would Rick.”
“Rick and Bart did drugs last night. I saw them. Remember, I tried to talk to you before the concert. I wanted to tell you last night, but you fell asleep, I thought it could wait until this morning.”
“Look, I know you aren’t doing drugs. I suspected Rick might be this tour, but you better be a bit more careful who you talk to among the roadies. Some of them take it the wrong way. We’ve been trying to gloss over the fact that you’re gay for years. However you may act, they don’t have proof. I’ve got to call Sam.” Milo removed himself from the bathroom, all the plans for a Sunday with his lover abandoned in the face of this new crisis.
“Sam?” Milo paced the floor holding the phone to his ear.
“I was just about to call you,”
“Sizzle, right?” Milo said through clenched teeth.
“Yeah. I don’t think Liam’s using, but I’m positive Rick is doing something,” Sam replied, sounding resigned.
“What about the other stuff?”
“He isn’t cheating on you, you damn fool.”
“How do you know that?” Milo snapped.
“He never looks at anyone but you.”
“Right. I’m going to do some snooping around here today.”
“Don’t let your hot head screw up your relationship. The kid has never lied to you.”
“Do I have one? A relationship, that is?”
Sam yelled something back at him. Milo hung up.
From the steps, Milo saw that Liam had gone to lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Liam, I have to go to see Sam in New York and do some damage control. You okay with that?”
Liam looked at his lover, his eyes red. “You believe it, don’t you? You don’t trust me at all.”
“I told you, I have to see Sam. I’ll be back later.”
Liam closed his eyes. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” Milo heard him whisper as he strode out of the room. Milo hoped he didn’t, because it would be the death knell to all of their dreams.
* * * *
“Rick, if this is going to work, you have to go over there and do what I say.”
“I don’t know, this is pretty radical. Isn’t it bad enough we publicly accused him of cheating on Milo when we both know that he never would?”
“Don’t you ever want the respect you deserve? As long as that kid hangs around, you’ll never get any. Look, you want the free junk or not? You’re in this up to your eyeballs already. Plant the bag where Milo will find it. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Rick drove up to the house and didn’t even ring the bell. Milo’s car was gone. If Liam was upset, he wasn’t too far from a bathroom. He went right up to the master suite. He heard the gagging from the door. “Liam, it’s Rick.”
“Haven’t you done enough?”
“I’m going to get you some soda and crackers.” Rick hustled down to the kitchen and grabbed a can of Coke and a box of Saltines. When he returned he found Liam sitting on the edge of the bed, sweating profusely. “Eat these and drink some of the soda. Let me get a cold cloth for your head.” He walked into the bathroom.
I can’t do this to the kid. He put the baggie of coke down on top of an open vanity drawer and went in to calm Liam down. Searching his pockets, he found some downers. He opened the capsules and slipped the contents into the open can of Coke. He took the phone off the hook in the bedroom and stayed until the kid fell asleep.
* * *
*
“Okay, Bart, which one did you see him with?” Milo said as he shook Bart’s shoulders in a rage.
“The blond with the stringy hair—”
Milo tore over to the roadie and grabbed the blond by the neck. “Did you plant that piece in Sizzle? Did you touch my Liam?”
“No, man. If anyone did, it would be Danny, but they’re just friends.”
“Are you sure? Have they ever gone off alone together?”
“Plenty of times, but only for lunch or something.”
Milo flew out of the building. Bart followed. “You want to go for a drink, buddy?”
“No, I don’t need you whispering in my ear tonight. I’m going to a hotel. I need to think.”
“Look, do what you like, but if he’s using, search the house. You’ll find it. Junkies are never too smart about where they hide their stash.”
Milo got to the hotel about eight P.M. after a stop at the local package store. He rented a suite and took the bottle to settle in for the night. This was his Liam they talked about, his baby, who had looked at him with so much love in his eyes that morning.
He grabbed his cell phone and dialed home. The phone just kept ringing busy. Liam’s cell went straight to voice mail. Finally, at two in the morning, halfway through the bottle, he gave up, staggered over to the bed, and passed out.
* * * *
Rick left the house about one in the morning. He heard Liam’s cell phone and knew who was calling. He didn’t dare answer because if he did, Milo would know he had been in the house. At about two thirty, Liam woke up feeling groggy. He noticed the phone off the hook, replaced it, and staggered down the stairs to the kitchen. As he hit the bottom step the phone rang. He stumbled into the kitchen and caught it on the third ring.
“Milo?” Liam answered in a hoarse voice.
“No, Bart. He’s with me tonight, you little shit. Soon it’s all going to be stripped away and you’ll have nothing. Nothing is what a no-talent little leech deserves.” The phone slammed in Liam’s ear.
Shattered, although he thought he had no tears left, he cried. Unable to face the bed without Milo in it, he curled up in a ball on the couch and stared at the door.
By six A.M., Liam couldn’t take it anymore. He went upstairs, got dressed, and took the car out to look for Milo.