Black John

by Amy Lane

  Tommy, though—he was exactly the same fierce street rat John had first hired. Fiery, unrepentant, absolutely without tact, Tommy was the best antidote John could have chosen to Chase’s long life of silent screaming. John thought about Tory and how all of the things that were good inside of him got twisted, and he found he could take Tommy’s bluntness and his temper with good humor. Tommy would not manipulate you or play head games with you—he would always tell you exactly where he stood. Thinking about the two of them raising a baby made John hopeful for reasons he couldn’t even name.

  “Yeah,” Dex said, straightening his cuffs for the umpteenth time. “Yeah. She’s early, and we all painted his nursery last weekend—” Suddenly Dex stopped and grinned, rolling his eyes at his foolishness. “Which you would know because you were there—but I think they don’t have, like, diapers and tiny clothes yet, you know?”

  “Any big-ticket items?” John asked soberly.

  Dex grinned and nodded. “Like, say, one of those combination car seat/stroller things that cost around $150?”

  John grinned back. “I think we should buy one of those when this is over, don’t you?”

  “Yes, boss, absolutely. I think if you want to give me a ride, we can meet Kane and Frances at Target and get some clothes and toys and stuff, and then go see that baby. What do you think?”

  Oh yes, that sounded like a plan. Just as soon as they were done with this—

  The buzzing in John’s pocket felt like disappointment.

  John picked up the phone and spoke briefly, but he already knew what was coming. He met Dex’s eyes and grimaced, and watched as Dex ripped off his tie and threw his jacket on the couch, mouthing “Motherfucker!” while John made nice on the phone.

  John hung up, being sure to be polite and not burn the bridge that had just burned them, and flopped down next to his business partner and sighed.

  “Well, it was a nice try,” he said after a moment. “But our investor just suddenly chickened out because, you know, the gay thing is still underground in Korea, and he didn’t feel like operating in the gray area.”

  “Oh hell,” Dex muttered, leaning on his elbows. “Hell. You know, John, I could really use a drink.”

  John blew out some air and matched his posture on the couch. “I wouldn’t mind a bump of coke either, but you know what we’re going to do instead?”

  Dex nodded, and both of them took a deep breath. “We’re gonna go shopping for the baby, and then we’re gonna go celebrate with our friends, and then we’re gonna go home and go to bed—”

  “And let our lovers comfort us,” John reminded them.

  “So we can get up tomorrow,” Dex added, but they knew what came next.

  “And try again.”

  They smiled at each other resignedly—but it was still a smile.

  Yeah. Failure was always an option, but so was hope. Maybe they’d both learned that by now.

  DEX AND John ended up going out shopping alone, because Frances was still down for her nap because they were early.

  That was okay—John sprang for yet another stuffed animal for Kane’s niece, and they figured that would make up for the fact that she missed the shopping trip.

  “She’s a greedy little goober,” Dex said affectionately. “Seriously, she’ll sell out for a stuffed rabbit and pie.”

  After they’d bought the stroller/car seat and a truckload of little snap-together T-shirts with bears on them, they loaded up the presents in John’s car, and John dropped Dex off so he could be with his family.

  It wasn’t until John was halfway to Kaiser that he realized how easy that was to say in his head. Dex was with his family, and John was alone.

  For now.

  But not forever.

  God, look who had learned optimism and balance. Holy shit, it was a miracle, sort of like him building a porch and maybe buying a cat and trusting that his lover would someday be home with him.

  Faith—Galen had asked him to have faith. It seemed that phone call by phone call and text by text, one day, one moment, one beat in life’s rhythm at a time, he’d built him up some of that.

  He wanted to call Galen and tell him that, in just those words, because he thought it would make Galen happy. But first…

  First he had friends to see.

  CHASE AND Tommy were supposed to have their own room with the baby. John understood that the mother, Chase’s ex-girlfriend, was recovering down the hall, and everybody had been given strictest warnings with direst consequences not to even let her know they were there.

  He got it.

  She was giving up her baby because she was afraid she couldn’t love it—not after what Chase had done to her when they were living together.

  But that didn’t make it easy, and it didn’t make it simple, and nobody wanted to hear the guy who’d screwed you over celebrating while you were lying in the hospital alone breaking your heart because your family didn’t approve of your decision.

  So the guys who gathered in Chase and Tommy’s room were exuberant and respectful. When John and Dex got there, Ethan and Jonah were sitting on the bed, side by side. Ethan, the big Italian god who had been one of John’s biggest headliners, cradled the baby in his arms like he’d been born to care for children.

  John, who had seen in Ethan the same greedy touch hunger Dex had seen when he’d hired him, thought that maybe that sort of innocent, unconditional touch was the best thing for Ethan.

  Given the way his boyfriend, sandy-haired, gray-eyed Jonah, was looking at the two of them, John figured he’d have lots of hugs of the intimate variety to help make up for whatever Ethan would miss when he quit his day job.

  Reg, one of John’s first models, stood back from the crowd, grinning quietly, but in a way that made John acutely aware that Reg had been growing less and less happy in a job that he’d used to love—no matter how straight he was. Standing with him was Bobby, their newest brown-eyed, big-cocked wunderkind, who had taken up some of the slack that John’s former headliners had left when they’d decided to do something besides porn.

  Sitting back to back with Ethan—in fact, leaning against Ethan like he was a giant, muscle-bound recliner—was John’s receptionist, the one on maternity leave, Kelsey. As she saw John and Dex walk in, followed by Kane and Frances, walking in, she shoved off of Ethan’s back and waddled toward them.

  “Dex! John! Oh my God, you guys! You came!”

  John hugged her awkwardly, trying to be warm and careful of her burgeoning belly at the same time. She laughed at him, her brown hair pulled back from her rounding American-girl face. She’d put on weight, but she’d also put on maturity—she was no longer the waifish, scattered little-girl-lost she’d been when John hired her, desperate for a job that would let her do her homework at the same time. Maybe it was impending motherhood, or even rooming with the family-hungry Ethan, but somewhere in there, Kelsey grew up.

  They’d all grown up, John reflected as he shook hands with Reg and Bobby and watched as Dex took the baby from Ethan. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it happen before—models “grew out” of porn modeling and worked hard to move up and do something else—but it just seemed like this group was special.

  He wanted so badly for them all to move on and be happy.

  Kane was hanging over Dex’s shoulder, showing Frances the baby, when Chase and Tommy walked in.

  “Wow,” Tommy said, looking around the room. “Frances could be the safest little girl on the planet right now.”

  There was a general bout of laughter from all of the gay men—and the one straight woman about to have her own baby—and then Tommy moved in to take the infant away from Dex.

  “Give the little bunny some room,” Tommy said, taking the kid tenderly. Chase made a protesting noise, and Tommy guarded the baby in a classic football hold. “You held him all this morning—it’s my turn.”

  Chase smiled and shook his head and then shooed Ethan and Jonah out of the way. “At least sit down,” he said. “If you
’re anything like me, you’re exhausted.”

  Tommy did sit and cuddled in with the baby, his Irish-black eyes so amazingly tender as he looked at his lover’s child that John completely erased the sexually voracious power bottom he’d known Tommy to be.

  “So,” Tommy said, grinning up at the crowd. Oh yeah—there was the showman John remembered. But this show—this was the best production he’d ever been in. “Did Ethan tell you his name?”

  “He did not,” Dex said, taking liberties and leaning over again, the better to see the kid. John was there for Chase and Tommy mostly—he didn’t get the fascination with newborn babies. They cried, they pooped, they ate—they didn’t get really entertaining until they were Frances’s age.

  “Chance David Summers,” Tommy said smugly.

  Dex’s fair skin washed pink. “David?”

  “Yeah, yeah, you and Kane get to be the god-daddies because, well, you got one already and you won’t suck at it if me and Chase go belly-up.”

  Dex grimaced. “Good feeling gone!” he said cheerfully. “So now that you managed to make that an unlovely gesture, are you sure you want to name him Chance?”

  Suddenly Kane—who was not quick, but he did get to his intended destination—spoke up, his guileless brown eyes wide. “Wait. You named your kid after his father’s porn name?”

  “Yeah,” Tommy said unrepentantly. “And the first person who tells this kid where that name came from is gonna meet me and a lead pipe down a dark alley, you’re all with me?”

  Everybody nodded soberly. From Tommy, this wasn’t an empty threat.

  “Isn’t that like… bad luck or something?” Jonah asked hesitantly. John liked him. He was the only guy in the room skinnier than John.

  “Don’t you guys see?” Tommy answered. “The reasons Chase took that name are the reasons it’s a good name. ’Cause look at what Chance means! Fortune, risk, opportunity—those are all the reasons we decided to raise the little goober. We sort of believed the opportunity was worth the risk, so, see? Chance!”

  Kane was still dubious. “Then why don’t you just name him Fortune?”

  “No!” Tommy protested. “What? Are we gonna call him Forty for short? Jesus, what a shitty thing to do to a baby.”

  “And naming him for a porn star isn’t?” Jonah asked doubtfully. For a moment John thought he was taking his life in his hands, and then he remembered that Jonah and Tommy worked at the PetSmart together and that Tommy might like Jonah enough to let him live.

  “Shut up,” Tommy said, looking so tenderly at the little wrinkled thing that nobody in the room could take offense. “We’re naming him for his father.”

  Chase wrapped his arm around Tommy’s shoulders and squeezed, and Tommy looked at him with his heart in his eyes. John watched the battle across Dex’s face as he tried to decide how to break the tableau to tell the two of them that they didn’t have to worry about the car seat they hadn’t had that morning, and John decided to step in.

  “Hey,” he said jovially, trying to hide the fact that he was throwing himself on the baby grenade, “Tommy, how about you give the baby to me, and then Dex can take you guys to the car to get that stuff we brought.”

  Dex looked at him and nodded.

  Kane, who had been occupying Frances as she wiggled, looked relieved. “C’mon, pumpkin,” he said, sounding tired. “Let’s go help Chase and Tommy unload the car, okay?”

  “Can we give the baby the teddy bear?” Frances asked. She’d liked the teddy bear, but Dex was right—she loved the stuffed bunny. Considering Dex and Kane lived with a truckload of reptiles and amphibians, John figured the softness must have been a novel experience.

  “Yeah, angel,” Dex said, taking her from Kane. “Let’s go do that.”

  Tommy stood up with the baby and walked over to John purposefully.

  “You support his neck like this,” Tommy said, demonstrating, “and they like it when you hold them firm. Now tuck him in like a football, don’t talk loud, and don’t drop him.”

  “All good to know,” John said dryly, but his heart was sort of thundering in his ears. Oh God. Galen needs to see this—he’ll shit his pants. He took the baby—which felt like sort of a warm, flannel-covered sandbag—and sat down, peering into the little face, which he guessed it was instinct to do.

  Nothing.

  Little eyes squinched shut, little mouth bowing out like they do, and fat little cheeks. As far as John could see, it breathed, and that was its one trick right now.

  “You,” John said distinctly, “are overhyped. You had better cry or something when they get you home, or they’re gonna think they were robbed.”

  “My sister had a bunch of these things,” Reg said from across the room. “I’m pretty sure it’s gonna cry—it’s sort of a required product feature.”

  John looked up at Reg, noting that he was letting his dyed blond hair grow out. It was longer than it had been, and he’d parted it in the middle, which made him look thoughtful. Next to him, Bobby uncurled from his slouch against the wall and cast Reg a guarded look under long lashes, and John had a sudden revelation.

  There was something between them.

  Reg—Reg, who had needed Silver Sword for his first few videos because, as he’d said honestly, he was just not feeling it with the guys—was involved with the barely eighteen-year-old Bobby.

  Well, hell.

  “Human beings tend to bitch a lot as a species,” John said numbly, looking back at the baby so he wouldn’t have to pass judgment or pity with his eyes. And lo and behold, the baby was awake and looking back.

  “Hello, Chance,” John said, deciding he liked that name with this baby. The porn name thing didn’t bother him so much—it wasn’t like this baby wasn’t going to grow up and have the sex of his choice. There was no reason to make it a bad thing that his father had had his sex of choice. “You’re going to scream and cry and screw up,” John said, feeling like he was offering a prayer. “You’re going to do bad things and good things and weird stuff in the middle. But you are always going to be loved, and I think that will make all the difference.”

  “Aw,” Ethan said quietly, coming up over his shoulder. “That’s a real nice thing to say.”

  John winked at him, enjoying his easy arm over the shoulders, because as often as Ethan infringed on people’s physical space, it never felt intrusive. “Well, what’s the use of living this long if you don’t get some wisdom to impart, right?”

  Ethan grinned at him. “Yup. Older and wiser. Works for me.”

  God, he was young. Young and just starting out and beautiful. John watched Ethan dart his eyes to Jonah suddenly and swallow, and amended the list. Young and just starting out and beautiful—and leaving porn. Damn. Well why not? Time for the Bobbys to take over.

  “How’s this for wisdom,” John said quietly. “It’s okay if you don’t want to be put on the schedule anymore—how’s that?”

  Ethan’s smile grew a little misty. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’ll still take you guys to lunch any time you want.”

  Ethan swallowed hard and nodded, and then, unsurprisingly, kissed John’s cheek with the simplicity of a child. “Thanks, boss.”

  “My pleasure.” He meant it too. “But since you’re feeling all grateful, could you do me a favor?”

  John kept the baby securely tucked with one arm, and with the other, he reached for his phone and set up the camera. “Could you take a picture for me? I want to show Galen.”

  “Sure, boss!” Ethan always sounded so happy to be asked to help. Charming as fuck is what it was. He took the camera, backed up a few steps, and said, “Smile!”

  John’s smile was honest and sweet—he knew it even as it touched his eyes.

  “Now everyone!” Ethan said, and Jonah took the camera from him.

  “Let’s make it Johnnies guys,” he said, smiling. “The next generation.”

  Everybody groaned, including Kelsey.

  “Oh God, I don’t want a picture
when I’m this pregnant!”

  “Tough!” Ethan said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Reg and Bobby got on the other side, hanging together closely without touching. When everybody else was touching. Oh yeah. John was going to have to talk to Reg about what he wanted to do with his life at the young age of thirty. Well, everyone needed that talk, even a little late.

  Jonah took one picture. At that point, Dex, Kane, Frances, Chase, and Tommy returned, and they got into the act. Jonah backed up almost into the nurse behind him, and she took the camera.

  That was John’s favorite picture.

  Him holding a baby—which was weird, but he was surrounded by his guys, his business partner, his employees and old employees, and his friends.

  The party broke up shortly after that. The baby needed to eat, and Chase and Tommy were wilting as they sat, but there were promises to visit the new daddies when they got home and to do family things together.

  Good promises.

  John liked that.

  He was pretty sure that there’d be some drifting apart—but like Brant and Zion and their weekly texts and e-mails, these guys would hopefully keep in touch. That made him happy. Whatever his faults, and there were many, he’d managed to give these guys, these good and kind young men, this sort of friendship. He couldn’t be all bad, could he?

  When he got home, he texted Galen with both the pictures.

  So the deal fell through (as you probably know by now), but this happened.

  I know the deal fell through—I’ve been writing up briefs to sue that fucker for breach of implied contract, or I would have been on the phone consoling you.

  Don’t sue him.

  We’re totally in our rights.

  He was getting pressure from his family. Don’t sue him.

  Sure as shit he’d sue YOU!

  Galen, did you see the picture with me and friends and a baby?

  Yes.

  Don’t sue him. I don’t want to be that guy.

  Kitten. On the. Freeway.

  Yes. Look at the baby again. Go on, look at him. Is your icy heart melting a little?