Black John

by Amy Lane

  Maybe.

  Do you think you could say, “Nice picture, John!” and leave the corporate shark tank for a while to celebrate with the mammals?

  “Nice picture, John! I want to suck your cock.”

  Well, that’s warm-blooded, at least. John smiled, though. He knew what was coming next.

  Good. That’s foreplay. Get on Skype, we’re gonna celebrate right.

  Yeah—now that Galen was in the house alone, he could get naked on camera too. Best porn John had ever watched: the interactive kind.

  HALF AN hour later, John was naked on the bed, sweaty and sex-sticky, lying on his side and looking longingly at the computer screen, which Galen was adjusting so they could look at each other’s faces again.

  “Galen,” he said throatily.

  “John?”

  “I miss you. I mean, I’ve got a good life here, and I’m gonna get a kitten, but I miss you. I think…. I think you and me, we could have this good life together.”

  “Yeah,” Galen said, his voice thoughtful. “I think you and me could definitely have this good life together. I really want to try.”

  “When?” John’s voice throbbed with that one little question.

  “Soon. Just a little while longer, okay?”

  John nodded, still looking Galen in the eyes through the magic of technology. Patience. He had it now. Soon was soon enough.

  A MONTH later, he had “the talk” with Reg.

  “Look, Reg, how long have you been working for me?” he asked.

  Reg jerked up like he’d been stung. “Are you letting me go?”

  John grimaced. “Hell no. You’re still selling like you were when you were twenty—better, even, because people know they can depend on you. No, that’s not what this is about.”

  Reg straightened his almost bantam body from his customary slouch. Reg was like the poster child for the regular guy. His body was muscular, and he worked out, yes, but he wasn’t impossibly beautiful. He was one of the few models who sculpted his chest hair and didn’t wax it all and who let his pubes go to seed.

  People loved him.

  “So why the buildup?” Reg asked, looking hurt.

  John shrugged. “Look, you know how I was gone for a while?”

  Reg looked uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, but you know… we assumed that was rehab.”

  John smiled dryly. “Part of it was. But part of it was… well, cleaning up a mess that a friend made because he couldn’t imagine anything else but the business. He was old, used up—or at least that’s what he thought. But… you know. I don’t feel old. I don’t think of you as old. I keep thinking we’ve got some of our best shit ahead of us, you know?”

  Reg’s hurt melted—and left behind a whole different kind of hurt. “I’m… I’m sort of an idiot, John. I mean… you know. Dex had school. Hell, Kane has school. I’m just… you know. An idiot, fucking my way through life.”

  Well, fair enough. Except…. “Reg, you can fuck your way through my porn as long as it works for you. But in the meantime, Pride and Gay Days festivals are growing exponentially, and I think we need to get in on some of that action. I would love to have a booth, and someone to schedule the guys on public appearances, and to wrangle things like swag and product and hotel rooms and venues and all of that other stuff. Dex did the few venues we had, but he needs to be home. Both of us are working on buying some sort of post-porn-business franchise, so we can’t do it. The company is growing, and we want it to do that, but I just wanted you to know that… that you’re a good guy. You’ve put in your time. If you ever feel like you’d like to do something not in front of the camera, I will find a fucking job for you—but this one actually needs somebody now. You hear me?”

  Reg still looked like he was going to cry. “You’d… I mean, I never thought that was an option.” He grimaced. “A planner I’m not.”

  “Is Bobby?” John asked gently.

  If anything, Reg’s expression became even wobblier. “I’m such a fool,” he whispered. “I mean, a kid twelve years younger, but… but he keeps acting like I’m something to be….” He shook his head hard and wiped his eyes. “You don’t need to see this—I’ll go. I mean you’ve got lunch or—”

  “Yeah. With you. I’ve got lunch with you. C’mon, Reg. Let’s go early and have an ice cream or something first—it’ll be like Christmas.”

  Reg gave him a game smile, and both of them ignored the shiny tracks forming in the creases of his mouth. “Yeah. Ice cream. It’ll be awesome.”

  John nodded, feeling an odd protective surge. This guy depended on him. It was up to John to make it right. He handed Reg a tissue and asked if he wanted to use the bathroom really quick. Reg dodged out and John picked up his phone.

  You’re right. Being an ethical boss is a good thing.

  Wow. I know an ethical boss. It’s a big deal for me too.

  Reg came out of the bathroom and they went to lunch, walking the few blocks to P.F. Chang’s. As they sat down, John decided to let the cats out of the closet first.

  “So, how’d you know I was in rehab?”

  Reg looked embarrassed. “Well, because one minute you were looking strung out and the next minute you were gone. It was… you know… logical-like?”

  John nodded. “Fair enough. And, uhm, Bobby?”

  Reg should have been too old to blush, but his cheekbones grew ruddier anyway. “See,” Reg said, taking a pot sticker delicately between his chopsticks, “the thing is, I didn’t used to think I was attracted to guys. And then… well, it hit me. Some of the guys—the guys I liked to work with, well… you know. Didn’t need no ‘performance enhancement,’ if you know what I mean.”

  John tried not to smile, but he knew that even if he tightened up the corners of his mouth, the middle was tilting up. “I know what you mean,” he said, and took a hasty sip of soda.

  Reg looked abashed, proving that he wasn’t as dim as he’d just claimed, and then he sobered quickly. “And then I worked with Bobby. And… and I just wanted more of him than on the set. And that worked for him too. And… and….”

  He shrugged. John could fill in the blanks—and even if he couldn’t, it was apparent those were private blanks, and not for John to see.

  “And now it’s something to think about,” John said gently.

  Reg nodded. “Yup. Sure is.”

  They dug in to their mu shu pork, and that seemed to be the end of their conversation. But it stuck with John, Reg’s willingness to change.

  Nobody was too old to change. Hadn’t John just proved that himself? And change really could be for the best.

  DURING JUNE, Sacramento heat plowed through the city like a motherfucker in a monster truck, and very few babies were seen for about three weeks. John felt bad. Spare the Air days were de rigueur, so Chase and Tommy kept the little bean sprout home. Except for Ethan and Kane, who apparently went over to watch the baby while Chase and Tommy got some much-needed sleep, everybody was very conscious of giving the little family some time to adjust to change.

  At the end of June, Kelsey went into labor—thank God—and her little girl, Audrey Tracy, was born without incident. (Apparently she liked old movies—go figure.) More meetings, more happy families, and then, thank you jebus, the heat broke right after the Fourth of July.

  Everybody was so relieved, John and Dex planned a picnic at William Land Park to celebrate. And no trip to William Land Park was complete without a trip to the zoo across the street.

  “So what the fuck are we looking at here?” Dex asked as John paid for fifteen people to go wander the zoo. Not all of them had kids, but some of them were just like Kane, who was probably more excited about the zoo than Frances. (She asked repeatedly if they had to go to the snake cage. Dex finally told her that no, they’d let Kane go to the snake cage, and he’d take her to see the red pandas.)

  “A bunch of gay models overdressed to smell elephant shit?” John asked, looking around. “Jesus, you guys are clothes whores. Even the kids are ove
rdressed.”

  Sure enough, the whole stinking lot of them—except for Jonah, bless his humble little heart—were wearing high-end gear. People were starting to look at them, John thought, laughing a little inside. It was like all these beautiful guys couldn’t be at the same place at once without some sort of event.

  “But not you, eh, boss?” Dex said dryly.

  John rolled his eyes. “The cargo shorts let the scratches heal.”

  “Yeah, I noticed—what in the fuck did you bring home, an ocelot?”

  John crossed his eyes. “He seemed like such a sweet little thing too.” Bringing home Chimp-baby had been the highlight of the long, miserable-assed fucking June. Chimp-baby was a basic ginger tom (heh heh heh), and he’d seemed to have a very grounded, bombproof constitution while crawling in the adoption cage with his siblings. But as soon as John got him home, grounded and bombproof became hyper and spazmatic, with a side of shredding drapes, couches, bedspreads, and John’s skinny white shins.

  “Yeah, well, I’m sure he’s perfect for you. You probably feed him deadly nightshade and use dolls’ heads for cat toys.”

  John laughed because it was a really horrible image. “I think he’s just another soulless redhead. He recognizes a kindred spirit.”

  Dex cuffed him playfully on the head, and John shooed him away. “Go save Frances. She really doesn’t want to see one more reptile.”

  Laughing, Dex sidled behind John as John signed off on the trip to the zoo, and John looked affectionately at what had become his de facto family.

  Chase and Tommy were pushing the stroller with the little car seat in the front. This was great, because they had the sunshade up, so to John’s way of thinking, it was like they were pushing a wagon with a stuffed animal in it. Kelsey was back at the picnic, resting, but Ethan and Jonah were pushing Audrey around the same way. John found himself bemused at the many and different ways to decorate the strollers to indicate gender. Chase and Tommy’s stroller had a blue-and-beige plaid. Kelsey’s had a delicate ivy pattern. The little umbrella stroller Dex and Kane brought for Frances had bunnies all over it. Thinking this shit up was somebody’s job, and it blew John away that people thought porn was an odd way to spend your time.

  Musing on that—and on nothing else, really, because it was a gorgeous, perfectly blue summer day, and the temperature was barely eighty degrees and would get to maybe the low nineties at the worst—John sauntered after his people so he could watch them try to justify showing cheetahs to infants who could barely fart without help. He was looking forward to it.

  They had gotten past the red pandas (John’s personal favorite) and were looking in on the emus and wallabies when John got a text.

  Where are you?

  At the zoo! (It was so much fun typing that that John started humming the old Simon and Garfunkel song as he walked.)

  No. Seriously.

  Seriously! John took a picture of Dex, Chase, Tommy, and Ethan, all standing in front of the emu. The odd bird ducked his head and stared straight at Frances, and her squeal of surprise startled both the babies into crying. John was laughing so hard watching the guys try to calm the babies down that he could barely send the picture. See? I told you—we’re doing the company picnic, and I’m taking anyone who wants to go to the zoo before we go eat burnt hotdogs and soy potato chips.

  Soy potato chips?

  They’re PORN MODELS—most of the hotdogs are soy too. I had to bribe Reg on the grill to make us some real goddamned meat.

  Charming. Where are you again?

  William Land Park. Why?

  I’d forgotten where you said.

  Well, yeah. Galen had been distracted the past couple of nights. He’d focused enough to laugh his ass off when John had showed his Chimp-baby wounds, but other than that, he kept saying, “I’m sort of working on something—don’t worry. I’ll tell you about it soon.”

  John had learned patience, faith, and trust. Galen would tell when he was ready.

  Yeah, well, the zoo is right across from the picnic area. We got a banner up, because the guys thought that would be HILARIOUS. I have no idea why.

  You going to be at the zoo long?

  John looked around. By this time they had wandered to the giraffe enclosure and were about to pass the primates and the big cats. Everyone was making good time (except for Kane, who was still in the reptile house, apparently), and John figured that little kids really didn’t spend too much time at the zoo.

  Probably an hour, maybe. Frances is going to be starving soon, and the guys are going to be done pushing the strollers. Also, funny. Moms could push the damned things for days, but the guys? Whine, whine, whine about sore backs and tripping on stroller wheels. John could listen to that shit all day.

  They’re all babies, you know that, don’t you?

  Since I’m five years older than the oldest of them, I’ll give you that.

  Well, I’m two years younger than you, and I still think they’re babies. Infants. Shouldn’t be cut loose on the world.

  John chuckled. This was a common refrain between the two of them. It just always seemed so wrong that these guys should be paying rent and buying groceries when they didn’t know enough to wear casual gear to the zoo.

  Well, they’ll make their own mistakes. We did.

  Galen didn’t reply immediately, but that was the nature of texting. For all John knew, he was getting another visit from his PT or he’d had groceries delivered or whatever. He’d get back to John when it was convenient. In the meantime….

  “Unca John! Look! The rang-tangs are red like you!”

  John smiled. “Which would make me a monkey’s uncle, precious—what kind of monkey are you?”

  Frances giggled outrageously, probably because that made no sense at all. John claimed a ride on the carousel with her while Dex ran to find Kane and tell him he’d missed all of the warm-blooded animals watching the snakes eat. When the guys came walking back, they spent the requisite time in the gift shop—where they purchased tiny baby T-shirts with elephants on the front. Then the lot of them made their way across the street to the other fifty or so employees who decided to attend the picnic—and the smell of grilling soy dogs.

  John saw him before he realized who he was looking at. The newcomer was leaning against the Johnnies picnic table with a pale green carry-on suitcase next to him. He was talking to a couple of the models and their girlfriends in a way that seemed friendly enough. He had his back turned, and John was just thinking, Hey, who wears a linen suit in Sacramento? when the guy turned around.

  John recognized his scruff first, and the shape of his face, and, even from a distance, his pale green eyes.

  “Oh my God,” he said, his voice soft against the thundering of blood in his own ears.

  “John?” Dex said, looking at him funny. Dex was pushing the stroller, and Kane was carrying Frances while John carted the ginormous cuddly stuffed “rang-tang” he’d bought her in an effort to be her favorite extended family adult.

  John set the rang-tang on the stroller and said, “That’s Galen.”

  “Galen?” Dex laughed. “He’s here? Jesus, John—go say hi!”

  But John didn’t need to be told. He took off, trotting quickly across the street when the light was green and heading toward the long decorated picnic table and the man who was…

  Walking. Not limping. Walking toward him—a little stiffly, but not like an accident victim at all.

  Like a hale and healthy man who had completely recovered from an injury. John stopped short a few feet away just so he could watch Galen walk forward, the little smile playing under his scruff enough to tell John why the wait.

  “No cane,” John said softly.

  “No cane,” Galen confirmed.

  John swallowed. “It never mattered,” he said, because it hadn’t.

  “Good, because I’m not ever going to be completely done with it,” Galen said, nodding. They were standing close, about a foot apart, and John could smell him, his
skin, his sweat, the faint tang of aftershave. John needed to close his eyes and let that smell seep through his pores, or he was never going to believe that he was here!

  “But….”

  Galen’s smile was justifiably proud. “But I had to know I could improve,” he said simply. “I had to know that I was the best man I could be for you.” His pale pink mouth trembled under his stubble. “You… you’d spent your whole life being second, thinking that was okay. I wanted to be the best so you’d know that’s what I thought of you too.”

  John blinked hard and abruptly ran out of words. He leaned forward, captured Galen’s mouth with his own, and then took the last step and pulled them together, feeling the heat of their bodies aligned perfectly, heart to heart.

  Behind them, John’s friends and family—his company—erupted into cheers, but John wasn’t there for them right now. He could taste Galen, smell him, feel him, all the way down in his heart.

  He pulled back, eyes closed, and they touched foreheads.

  “We could ditch out right now and nobody would hold it against us,” he panted, wanting to take Galen home and touch him so damned bad his hands shook.

  “I would,” Galen said sincerely.

  John straightened and smiled into his eyes. “They’ll love you,” he said.

  “As long as you do.”

  John swallowed hard and wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Oh baby, you don’t ever have to ask.”

  But John would say it again and again and again anyway. You could never hear that sort of thing too much, even if you were supposed to be old, and cynical, and beyond such niceties.

  It was just as well. With Galen right there, right there, John didn’t feel old at all. Their entire life was about to start, and he’d never in his life seen such promise. He loved, and was loved in return, and every day in which that is true is cause for celebration.

  Don’t miss how the story started!

  Chase in Shadow

  Johnnies: Book One