The Drumbeat of His Heart

by M. C. Roth

  “Who is it?” Ian asked as he looked down the hall towards the sound. His flush had died away to a loose-limbed relaxation, but he was instantly on edge and ready for a fight.

  “It’s my mom. Christ, I forgot to call her. She gets all protective if I don’t check in with her. She’ll start calling hospitals if I don’t answer the door.” Trent pulled a pair of sweatpants on while grappling with a T-shirt over his head. Any fluids that hadn’t dried already, soaked into the T-shirt and pants, leaving an obvious stain behind. “Get dressed, and please don’t listen to anything she says.” With one last look at the beautiful man in his bed, Trent raced to answer the door.

  The knock sounded again, just as his footsteps stuttered to a halt on the mat. He flushed as he opened the door to reveal his mother.

  She was tiny, all of five feet, but every inch of her was filled with bright fury. Her hair was still naturally blonde—at least, she’d convinced everyone else of that fact—and her narrow hips fit neatly into a size two. Trent was utterly terrified of her.

  Her piercing blue eyes, which always managed to see too much, looked up and down his form once before a knowing smile broke over her lips.

  “Well at least somebody is getting laid in this godforsaken town.” Her smile widened to reveal perfect white teeth. “And from the looks of it, that was some mighty good dick. But I still don’t forgive you. I can understand two days, maybe even three, but not four. Four days since you called me, you little punk. I thought I was going to come down here to find a corpse.” She pushed her way past him into the tiny front hall.

  Trent gaped at her with his mouth hanging wide as she pushed him to the side like he weighed almost nothing. There was nothing he could say or do to stop her, either. She was an unstoppable force. She paused in the doorway to the kitchen, tilting her head back to smell the air.

  “It still smells like sex in here. Do you not know how to open a window? You aren’t in college anymore, sweetheart.” She stomped into the kitchen and grappled with the stiff window over the sink. She had to perch up on the tips of her toes, but she managed to open it.

  Trent shuddered. She was the reason he had no brain-to-mouth filter. It was directly genetic.

  “Mom, he’s still here. We were just sleeping. Could I maybe call you later and we can catch up?” Trent followed her into the kitchen, where she was already pulling a frying pan out from where it was stashed in the oven.

  “Nope. Four days, Trent. Four.” She turned and jabbed his chest with a tiny, manicured finger. Trent felt the tiny bruise form under the woman’s wrath. “And obviously you’re a caveman and haven’t even made your guest breakfast. Now go wash up and fix your shirt. It’s inside out. If it’s not too much trouble, you can chat with your mother over breakfast and introduce me to your friend. It must be someone special if you brought them home.” She turned away abruptly, obviously without any doubt that her orders would be followed.

  Trent ducked back into the bedroom and pulled the door shut before his mother could peer around the corner. Ian was pulling on the clothes that he’d worn when Trent had first met him. They’d long since been washed and dried, but Ian had stacked them on the dresser instead of putting them on, lounging in Trent’s clothes instead. Trent had to pause and shake his head when he found himself eyeing up the way the trousers slid over Ian’s hips, and the way the shirt hugged his thick chest and biceps.

  “Please tell me that you didn’t hear that,” said Trent as he leaned back against the door, just in case his mother tried to break through. Ian turned to him with a soft laugh.

  “Every word. It’s okay though, T. I’m glad your mom is accepting of you. I wish my family was cool with it.” Ian shrugged and turned away to grab his socks from the dresser.

  Trent wrapped his arms around him from behind and pulled the man into a hug. “Sorry. She means well. She just gets over-excited for me sometimes.”

  “She’s proud.” Ian turned and pressed a kiss to Trent’s lips. “It’s a good thing. Trust me.”

  There was a darkness behind those words that Trent didn’t like. Ian had been tight-lipped about his life and family over the weekend, and Trent hadn’t pressed him. He’d only mentioned one person—his best friend Mac, who also happened to be his boss. Trent didn’t want to ruin the time that they had together by trying to dig up anything more.

  A tongue slipped into Trent’s mouth and he had to bite off a groan. The smack of lips was loud in the small room, matched only by the sound of their breathing. Trent pulled Ian close, slipping his hands along his neck and shoulders before cupping his waist. Ian followed the motion, until they were touching from chest to hip. An answering twitch met Trent’s hardening cock.

  “You two better not be fucking in there!”

  They broke apart, more winded than they should’ve been for such a short kiss.

  “We’re not, Mom. We’ll be right out,” Trent yelled back through the door before he sighed and pressed his face to Ian’s chest. He took a deep breath. The scent that he had thought was cologne still lingered, now mixed with the scent of Trent’s body wash. He forced himself away before he did something he would regret later. His mother would have no qualms about interrupting them.

  “Come on.” Trent slipped his hand into Ian’s. He’d half expected the man to let go but was pleasantly surprised when Ian only tightened his grip. Trent pushed through the door with a small smile on his face.

  “You didn’t fix your shirt, honey.” His mother’s piercing gaze picked up every detail. She flitted over to Ian, her eyes going wide with surprise. “Well, look at that. You are just gorgeous—and one hell of a man.” Her gaze flicked up and down, taking in Ian’s towering height and thick build. Trent winced when she obviously eyed Ian’s groin.

  “It’s a nice change, Trent, honey. I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing, but it’s a good look on you.” She flipped something in the pan, before grinding it against the flame.

  “Oh my God, Mom, please stop,” said Trent as his face flamed hot. He glanced at Ian out of the corner of his eye, but the man was unreadable.

  “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, honey. Being a bottom is just as great as being a top.” She smiled sweetly as she flipped the pancake again. “Now, don’t be rude. What’s your name, dear?” She turned towards them, brushing off her front with a few sweeps of her petite hands.

  Trent visibly wilted as he glanced over at Ian again. Ian’s mouth was open in shock, but his eyes were sparkling with intense humour. His grip was tight on Trent’s hand.

  “Ian, this is my mother, Betty. Mom, this is Ian, my…” Trent trailed off, biting his tongue before he could utter another word. What could he say? Weekend fuck buddy? They certainly weren’t boyfriends…or partners. They hadn’t gotten close to having any sort of conversation about any of that.

  “Lover.” Ian leaned forward to shake Betty’s hand with his free one. He made the embarrassing term sound sexy enough that Trent flushed even deeper. “It’s nice to meet you. I can see where T gets his sense of humour.”

  “T?” Her eyebrows hit her hairline as she smirked at Trent. “Well, this just keeps getting better and better. Have a seat, Ian. My son may not know how to feed you, but I won’t let you waste away.”

  Trent hardly raised his head through the embarrassing debacle of breakfast. Ian was obviously enjoying himself as he laughed at Trent’s expense several times as Betty divulged childhood secrets.

  “That’s nothing,” Betty chuckled as she patted Ian’s shoulder. Ian was laughing so hard that he had tears in the corner of his eyes. Trent wanted to drown in the syrup on his plate.

  “When Trent came out of the closet to us, he thought he was so clever. I’d known for years, ever since I caught him looking at the male underwear models in my catalogues.”

  “That was one time, Mom,” said Trent as he sank lower in his chair.

  “Shush, honey. Mommy is talking to your lover. Anyway, Trent calls this family meeting with me, hi
s two brothers and his father. We’re all sitting there and he just comes out and says it. ‘Mom, I’m gay.’” Her voice went high and squeaky in her imitation of his pubescent voice. “And I tell him that I’m so glad that he’s happy. We’re just one happy, gay family. He looked so upset that we weren’t getting it, and his father was just trying to stop laughing. So he says, ‘I like guys, Mom.’ So, I told him that it was just fine to have friends that were girls and friend who were guys.” She laughed, wiping a few tears from the corner of her eyes.

  “So little Trent, he’s getting so upset and he’s bright red. He just yells out, ‘I want to fuck guys. How hard is that to fucking understand?’ We just smiled, nodded and I told him that it was about time he told me.”

  She stood, still shaking with laughter as she started to clear the plates from the table. Ian was hiding behind his hand, obviously trying to keep his laughter in check, but as Trent glanced up, he burst into a new round of giggles.

  “And now you know why I am the way I am.” Trent mumbled into the placemat as he let his face finally fall all the way down.

  “Oh, honey, I love you, you know that, but a mother only has so many opportunities to torture her children. I have to take full advantage. It’s payment for three years of no sleep. Hell, you still keep me up at night.”

  “It’s all good, T,” said Ian as he slid his hand over Trent’s shoulder. “I wish my family was anything like yours.” A frown tugged at the man’s lips and the sparkle in his eyes dimmed.

  “Oh dear, did they not take it well when you came out to them?” Betty asked. Her humour fell away to a stance that Trent recognized as ‘protective mother mode’.

  “Well, I never told them. Any of them,” Ian said quietly. “They’ve made their feelings about homosexuals abundantly clear. I only have one friend who knows, and it was really hard for him to accept. I’d rather not go through that again.”

  The kitchen went silent except for the tap running into the sink. Trent shot his head up as he went through a dizzying array of emotions. He couldn’t imagine hiding such an important part of his life from everyone he knew. It would break him.

  “Well, Ian, honey, you’re part of our family now too. We accept you one hundred percent, no matter what.” Betty dropped a kiss on Ian’s head and Ian tensed, looking at Trent with a heart-breaking sadness. The tears that had been from humour shone with grief instead.

  “Ian,” said Trent as he reached out to grab his hand.

  “The ladies haven’t been fed yet, have they? I’ll go take care of that and you can help Betty dry dishes,” said Ian as he pushed himself to his feet. The chair squealed from the sudden movement and it nearly tumbled over. “It was nice to meet you, Betty.” He didn’t wait for a reply before he grabbed his shoes and disappeared out of the front door.

  “Mom.” Trent sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. His stomach burned, and it wasn’t from his mother’s cooking. Seeing that look on Ian’s face brought back so many memories of every person who had ever looked at him like he was a freak.

  “He is an excellent man, honey. He’s damaged and hurt, but I think he needs someone like you in his life.” She wrapped her soapy hands around him and pulled him over to the sink.

  He could peer into the back yard from the window. Ian was back at the coop and the chickens were already rushing around his ankles in excitement. Cadbury, who usually didn’t even look up when Trent was in the back yard, leapt into Ian’s arms and tilted her head to the side for a scratch. The two had bonded while Trent had been at work during the morning on Friday. He’d been terrified to leave a near-stranger in his home alone for the day, but when he’d returned, Ian had been passed out in a lawn chair with three chickens curled up on his legs.

  “Oh, honey, you are so gone on him,” said Betty, shaking her head. “It’s okay. I know that look. It’s the same one that your brother has for his wife and that I had for your father.”

  “He’s leaving today,” said Trent. “He was just staying here while they were fixing up his car, and it took a while longer than we’d initially thought it would. The garage called last night, but he was going to head out this morning.” Trent sighed as he brushed the plate in his hands with a dishtowel. He had known that he was developing something for Ian, but he’d thought he’d buried it under several layers of lust and denial.

  “That’s okay, honey. He can’t live that far away. You can always visit each other on weekends.” She passed him another plate without looking away from the adorable scene in the back yard.

  “He lives in Miami.” It was the same continent, but more than a twenty-three-hour drive away, and Trent didn’t even have a car.

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

  Trent held back the tears, refusing to let them fall. He didn’t want to ruin the last morning with Ian by having a breakdown. He was going to enjoy it until the moment that Ian stepped out of the door.

  “I’m going to head out, honey. You call me later if you’re up to it.” She left the sink half-full of dirty dishes, already pulling her shoes on.

  Outside in the yard, Ian looked back to Trent standing at the window. The man waved, ignoring the protesting clucks of the chicken in his arms. Trent broke out into a smile. He was going to enjoy the rest of his morning to the fullest.

  Chapter Six

  Trent fumbled with a stack of CDs as the door slammed shut a second time. The old door was slightly warped from years of transitioning from hot to cold, and the wooden frame was just a touch too small. A strong slam was the only way to close it.

  There was a rustling of fabric and the distant thump of shoes being thrown down on the mat. There were probably bits of dirt and mud on the wall from their haphazard landing, but Trent couldn’t bring himself to care. Ian hadn’t commented when Trent had moved a pair of sandals to make room for Ian’s size twelves, but he always made sure to aim for that little spot.

  “What are you doing?” asked Ian and he came around the corner. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, all semblance of tension drained away. Ian’s cheeks were rosy from the brisk morning, and his scalp was damp with the barest hint of sweat. He filled the room with his smell, mixed with the perfect scent of sunshine.

  “Don’t make fun of me. I know everyone else in the world just downloads music, but I like CDs.” Trent flipped through the stack, looking for something to play. He steered away from his collection of heavy metal, as he was unsure if Ian would like it or not. He didn’t want their last few hours together to be awkward because of his music choice, but he didn’t want silence either.

  “It’s cool, T. I have a record collection, so I get it. Sometimes you need to hold something in your hands to really make sense of it.” Ian wiped a hand over his scalp as he glanced down at the mess.

  “Exactly,” said Trent. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Any preferences? I’ve got the classics and some new stuff too. Anything you don’t like?” He held up a few different cases, squinting at each one as he named them off.

  As Trent turned to show Ian one of the cases, he accidentally collided with the haphazard stack he had created. The clear plastic holders, filled with their square paper labels and shiny circles, tumbled to the ground. One case tipped and flung open as it hit the ground. The sensitive underside of the CD dragged along the vinyl floor as it slid to Ian’s feet.

  Trent grabbed the case at the same time Ian went for the silver disk. Both of them froze.

  Trent settled on the paper insert. When he was young, he would open the little pages and read along to the lyrics as he listened to the songs for the first time. Now he usually ignored them and went straight for the disk.

  On the case, above the track list, was a picture of the band members, all wearing smiles and classic band T-shirts. One of the five members, the tallest of them, had a set of drumsticks in his hand. He stood out like a beacon of fire in the middle of a thunderstorm. It was Ian. />
  Ian had flipped over the disk in his hand to look at the label. His eyes widened as his body went tense, and he looked as if he was almost crushing the disc in his hand. His eyes flickered over to Trent as his look darkened and narrowed into a glare.

  “I thought you said you didn’t know who I was,” said Ian, his words low and laced with something dangerous.

  “I didn’t—”

  “Did you have fun touching the real thing this weekend?” Ian took a step back. “I knew it was too good to be true. I finally found someone who I couldn’t blame on the drugs or the drinking, and of course they turn out to be a lying groupie. Fuck you, Trent.”

  Trent tried to stand, and the empty case fell from his fingers. His stomach surged at the thought of meeting someone famous, especially so intimately, but the feeling dropped into numbness at the brutal barbs of Ian’s voice.

  “I’m not like that,” said Trent. He tried to say more, but his voice clogged on everything that was trying to stumble forth from his mouth at the same time.

  “I guess we both have our own dirty little secrets then. Just do yourself a favour… Don’t go to the press or I’ll fucking bury you.” Ian threw the disk at Trent’s head as he whirled out of the room.

  The round plastic disk slapped against Trent’s cheek, knocking him back a step as he cried out in surprise more than pain. It shocked him out of his momentary stupor, sending him after Ian as he fled to the door.

  “Wait, Ian. I swear I didn’t know. I recognized your name, but I couldn’t figure it out. Please believe me.” He grabbed for Ian’s shoulder but was shrugged off. “Ian, please.” His voice trailed down to a whisper.

  “Fuck you,” said Ian without looking back, his shoes still in his hands. The door slammed loud enough to shake the plates in the kitchen sink.