Stories Beneath Our Skin

by Veronica Sloane

  "Did you ever see anyone about it?" Liam opened his eyes, focused on the tight lines around Ace's eyes.

  "Nah. I talked to my mom a lot. And Goose when we became friends again. He'd prop me up at Frankie's bar and draw it all out of me. Once Deb got back, we helped each other. I hired her 'cause she helped keep my head on straight. Guess she still does. It all took a while, but it worked out in the end. Sometimes it still gets to me, but there's people to work with me through it. Pain shared, you know? Well. Maybe you don't if you've never tried it."

  "It's different for you." Liam grimaced. "You went to war, earned it. Everyone gets that. They think better of you for it, not worse. No one wants to hear a privileged white boy whine about how his boyfriend was a little rough with him."

  "He tattooed you hard enough to scar." Ace's hand crept down to press over the rough lines. "That's abuse any way you look at it, and I don't care who you are -- that's fucking wrong. You earned the right to be heard, okay? I want to hear it."

  "He didn't mean to." Liam reached down, tugged Ace's wrist away. The skin always felt sensitive there, too raw as if it might open up all over again. "We'd been drinking in the back of the shop."

  "He tattooed you drunk?" The pitch of Ace's voice slid up in shock. "Who the hell gave this fuckwad a license?"

  "He was good. Usually. Just not when he was drunk and..." Liam made a vague motion.

  "And what? Stoned?"

  "No. Well. Yeah, probably. But... We..." Liam started to shake, the memory flooding over him like it had happened yesterday. "I was sort of out of it. He liked it like that. Got me all loose or whatever."

  "Are you trying to tell me," Ace asked in a pained hush, "that he put a needle to your skin while you were fucking?"

  "Yeah." His breath came in short gasps, and his heart started beating double time.

  The truly fucked up thing was that the sex had been good. They'd come together easy and slick. Liam hadn't heard the machine turning on or even felt the first few strokes of the needle, too overstimulated to tell the pleasure from the pain. When he'd gotten with the program, he'd tried to squirm away, but Brandon was bigger and more determined. He'd coaxed him with soft words and the long, mind-melting thrusts of his hips that had always made Liam pliable, even as he protested. He remembered twisting away at one point, the hard bite of the needle going too deep.

  "Hey, come on." Ace was patting his cheek. "Breath, Professor. It's ok."

  "I'm here." He clung, scrabbling and Ace's arm, grounding himself in the hard line of muscle. "Sorry. Just. God. I haven't let myself think about it. Haven't..."

  "Hey, sorry. I'm such a fucking idiot."

  "You?" Liam's panic receded in confusion. "Why?"

  "I knew whatever you were dealing with was big. I shouldn't have pushed you."

  "No. No, it's okay." Liam licked his lips, tried to find that still calm center he knew lay inside him. "I kind of feel a little better now, actually."

  "You're shaking, and a few seconds ago you were hyperventilating."

  "The last time I even thought about it for too long, I threw up. So I think it's an improvement." Liam gave him a wan smile, and Ace relaxed fractionally.

  "I want to murder this guy, I hope you know that. Don't think I haven't noticed that you're not naming names."

  "Even if I was okay with you going caveman on his ass, which I'm not for the record, it doesn't matter. He's long gone."

  "Gone where? 'Cause I've got a passport, and I'm not afraid to use it." Some of the anger had receded from Ace's voice, and a mild teasing had returned. That warmed Liam far more than the threat itself.

  "Gone as in dead. Last year." He'd found out on Facebook, scrolling through on his laptop during a dull lecture on sestinas. The article was a few months old, a link circulated by acquaintances. Liam had read it over and over, then he'd wandered outside with the lecture trailing away behind him. That had been an ocean day. "The guy he left me for was driving him home after a party. They must've both been pretty high. Hit a tree going eighty."

  "Damn... I could still defile his grave though. I mean I'm not saying I would. Just that it's an option."

  Liam stared at him until Ace lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

  "Please don't piss on my ex-boyfriend's grave, you fucking weirdo," Liam decreed, trying to hold back the hysterical laugh building in the back of his throat.

  "Don't limit my creativity," Ace said plaintively, rolling onto his stomach. "Piss is such a small medium."

  "Whatever you're thinking. Just don't," he amended, but it didn't come out as scolding as it should have. "I'm not angry with him anymore, I told you."

  "I'd be furious. Like burn down his house even if he doesn't live there anymore furious."

  "It's been four years. More. Fuck, almost five, since we broke up. You can't be angry for that long." Liam sighed. "It just... is what it is, you know? I figure all I can do is live my life."

  "Except you haven't been. Not really." The smile dropped off Ace's lips. "I mean, yeah, you have been walking, talking, eating, breathing, but when you first came into the shop it was like someone had drained all the color out of you. Didn't even think you knew how to smile."

  "It's not exactly a happy-go-lucky time in my life. When Gene got sick, I guess it brought a lot of stuff back to the surface, you know? How much I wish I'd had the guts to confess to him back then. How much I'm going to miss him when..." Liam couldn't finish that thought, just plunged on. "I've lived. I've got hobbies and friends and life goals. All of that. Usually I'm happy a lot more than I'm sad."

  "I want to know you when you're like that." Ace reached out again, slower this time and aiming for Liam's chest instead of his stomach. When he wasn't swatted away, he threw his arm around Liam and pulled him close, nosing against his neck. "You're gorgeous when you're all lit up."

  "I was happy last night." Liam turned over to face him, tangling their legs together.

  "Yeah, I noticed." Ace kissed him, soft, languid and warm. "Guess this wouldn't be the best moment to suggest morning after sex."

  "Probably not, no. But I could go for some breakfast."

  They ate toast with too much jelly on the back porch, the freshly cooled air raising goosebumps over their bare skin. Neither of them had bothered with more than shorts, shielded as they were from prying eyes by the pines in the backyard.

  "I've got a quote for you," Ace told him, brushing crumbs into the grass. A sparrow bounced down from a tree to pick among them.

  "Yeah?" Liam peeled the crust off his second slice, chewing it slowly.

  "Show me a man with a tattoo, and I'll show you a man with an interesting past."

  "Jack London." A second bird flew in, the two them pecking in tandem. "I like that one a lot."

  "Do you think it's true?"

  "I think there are a ton of boring assholes with tattoos," Liam said flatly, pleased when Ace grinned at him. "But yeah, sure. I think a lot of people who get them are interesting. They've got stories to tell."

  "That's what I like about the job." Ace winked at him, leaning in for another in a long string of kisses. "You'd better go. Getting late."

  "Yeah." Liam rose reluctantly.

  "I'm going to run some errands. Cole'll be back this afternoon." Ace hesitated, staring up at him. "He's going to wonder why you're sleeping in my room."

  "Oh, well. I don't have to. I mean, not like I'm getting much sleep--"

  "You should." Ace touched Liam's wrist, a fleeting point of contact that warmed Liam from the inside out. "I want you there. Just. I'll have to talk to him, okay?"

  "It's only been a day. Seems a little premature to me." Liam shrugged. "It's cool, really. If it's easier..."

  "It'd be easier not to do anything with you at all, but looks like I chose the hard way. Again. So. Gonna do it right."

  "Rushing isn't right, necessarily."

  "Any of this feel rushed to you?" Ace asked. "We've been skating around this for weeks."

  It should. This time yest
erday, Liam hadn't even considered the possibility of them as a serious idea. A day was too fast. Even the scant two months they'd known each other was probably too fast. Hell, he'd moved Ace into his home without much of a second thought. But it had been so good to fall asleep beside him the night before. There were no warning signs, no flares of fear to ignore. Just the steady line of Ace's shoulders that had always looked broad enough to rest the weight of the world on.

  "No," he admitted.

  Ace got to his feet with clear intent to kiss, then groaned when he fell laughably short of his goal.

  "We're going to have to come up with a system, seriously. Or I'll start dragging a stool around with me. Lean down, giant."

  "We'll figure it out." Liam bent down for his kiss, free to run a hand over the coarse column of Ace's dreadlocks. "Sort of the least of it, you know?"

  "Point." Ace dropped down flat on his feet, eyes all mischief. "You better go. Have a good day, Professor."

  "Right." Liam traced his thumb over Ace's lower lip, watched the faint shudder go through him. "Going. I'm.... going."

  It took willpower to walk away from that and into the shower. Maybe he was still a little addled when he got to the hospice because Gretchen gave him an indulgent smile.

  "Late night?" she asked.

  "Very."

  Gene beamed at him when he came in, though his breakfast had been pushed to one side and his color wasn't good.

  "What happened to you?"

  "Nothing." Liam ducked his head and pulled over his chair.

  "Liar," Gene accused. "Come on. You can't shock me."

  Liam knew he could shock him, but what would be the point after all this time? There was nothing Gene could do about it now, except carry guilt that he didn't deserve. It didn't sting anymore, this secret hanging between them. It was as if telling Ace had exorcised some of the power from the memory. Now Liam could sit even easier by Gene's side, giving him an abashed smile.

  "I sort of figured things out with Ace."

  "Sort of?" Gene teased.

  "It's a huge mess." Liam pulled out his sketchpad and pencils, fingers itching to be doing after yesterday's drawing marathon. "And will probably end in fire and chaos."

  "You say that so cheerfully." Gene rolled his eyes. "Maybe things could work out. Ever consider that possibility?"

  "A pessimist is a man who looks both ways before crossing the street."

  "And who said that?"

  "Laurence J. Peter."

  "Well, he's an idiot." Gene scowled. "You know that things can turn out for the better. Life hasn't been that unkind to you."

  "No." Liam leaned forward and took Gene's featherlight hand in his. He could feel the shift of bone and muscle beneath the skin. "It hasn't."

  "As Robert Herrick said, Gather ye rosesbuds while you may." Gene squeezed lightly back.

  "You do know that's a poem about virgins dropping dead before they can have sex, right?"

  "Is it?" Gene laughed. "Well. That'll show me to try to use your own weapons against you."

  They let the conversation wander off for a while after that. The television rambled on about paternity tests, and a triumphant mother held her baby up with pride.

  "Can I ask you something?" Liam filled in a few lines, trying to capture the noon light.

  "You know you can." Gene coughed, struggling to sit up a little. "What is it?"

  "Is there anything you want? Before... you know. I never really asked you."

  "You didn't have to ask. This is what I wanted." Gene closed his eyes against the next broken cough. "There's no dramatic deathbed confessions or desperate vacations to Disneyland, kiddo. I lived my life, and it was as good as I could make it. I just want to slip away in a comfortable bed with you nearby."

  "Okay." Liam summoned up a smile. "Just checking."

  "You're pretty dumb for such a smart kid, you know that?"

  "Yeah." Liam rubbed at a pencil line until it blurred. "It's come to my attention."

  "Though now that I think about it..." Gene leaned forward a little. "I could use some pie."

  "Pie," Liam repeated flatly.

  "Mhm. Apple. Next time you're out, pick some up for me."

  "I can do better than that."

  When Ace came by an hour later, it was in possession of a white pastry box and a bemused smile.

  "I like this delivery service." Gene took up the fork still sitting next to his abandoned breakfast. "You should keep this one. Big improvement over the one with the blue hair."

  "I wasn't dating Amos!" Liam groaned. "He was just a friend, I keep telling you."

  "Uh-huh." Gene stabbed into the pie with relish.

  "Amos?" Ace took the chair next to Liam, their knees bumping companionably together. "Should I be worried?"

  "Only if you're threatened by hetero biochem majors currently residing in California. He was my freshman roommate."

  "You boys going to eat any of this?" Gene shoved the box in their direction.

  They wound up eating most of it. Gene gave up after only a few bites, but Ace had apparently missed lunch.

  "Love to stay and play Jeopardy, but Mom is coming by with Cole in a bit. See you at home?" Ace asked, leaning in for a kiss.

  "Um, yeah." Liam delivered a quick peck, flushing in Technicolor.

  "Maybe the rosebuds thing wasn't that far off the mark, huh?" Gene reached for the remote.

  "Just change the channel, old man," Liam ordered, putting away his pad. "I can't beat you as bad if we miss the first question."

  When Liam got home, Ellen's car was still in the driveway. A faded Co-Exist bumper sticker clung to the back, its tattered edges mixing with another that read "May You Have Exactly the God You Deserve". He chewed that one over up the sidewalk and into the house.

  Ace and his mother were sitting at the kitchen table, empty mugs in front of them. She had taken Ace's hand in her own, the palm stretched upward. She was talking, and Ace had the same expression of fond tolerance that Liam had aimed at Gene a thousand times. Cole was playing under the table with a pile of Legos, snapping the bricks together then apart again.

  "Hey, there you are." Ace looked up, free arm opening wide to call Liam to his side.

  It was too easy to cross the void between them and settle into the welcoming crescent. Liam leaned his hip against Ace's side. Ellen glanced between them and then huffed softly.

  "Well then." She released Ace's hand and picked up both mugs. "I should head home before it gets too dark for me to see."

  "I can get those." Ace protested, but she was already rinsing them out. "Mom."

  "Son," she repeated with the same grave sturdiness. "This, I can do."

  "Grandma's leaving," Liam told Cole. "You gonna say goodbye?"

  "Bye, Grandma!" Cole chimed, then went back to his Lego.

  "Bye, baby." She embraced Ace, her chin tucked over his shoulder and eyes closed. "You be good."

  "Me or Cole?" Ace asked.

  "Yes." She pulled away. "I'll see you next Friday."

  Not long after that, Ace bundled Cole off for a bath over much protesting. Liam stood alone in the kitchen, looking out into the darkness. The tub started running, and a raucous debate between man and boy drifted outside over the sound of pounding water.

  This calm, this bright loving chaos, this was Liam's life. For now. From this breath and the next at least. He didn't know what kind of god he deserved, but he hoped it was one that would let him hold onto this feeling as long as he could.

  Chapter Eleven

  The tiny white missile soared through the air and stuck into one of Goose's wild black curls.

  "I am the master!" Deb pumped her fist in the air.

  "Master-bator maybe." Goose rejoined, flicking the paper ball back in her general direction.

  It was late. Late enough that the sign had flipped to closed, though the buzz of Ace's gun still rattled through the air. One last appointment. Technically the rest of them could've gone home, but Goose had stretched ou
t on the waiting room couch and Deb hadn't budged from behind her desk. Liam, watching the two of them egging each other on, had taken up one of the chairs. He was still working on the sketch of Gene's hand.

  "That was weak," Deb chided. "What's with the mopey routine?"

  "I'm not moping." Goose clucked his tongue. "I'm thinking. Deeply. I know, I know. Rare sight, don't hurt myself, and all your sarcastic blah blah blah."

  "About?" she prodded.

  "An offer."

  "From Frankie?" Liam asked, pencil stopping mid-stroke. "How did your talk go?"

  "It went." Goose shrugged, loose limbed.

  "She made you an offer, and you didn't jump on it?" Deb sent another paper ball soaring. It landed in Liam's lap.

  "She told me I had to think about it. So this is me. Thinking about it. Apparently, it's what adults do," he drawled in the same soft cadence of Frankie's voice. "Only fools rush in."

  "Good thing no one here is anything like foolish, right Professor?" Another paper ball dinged off the tip of Liam's nose.

  "Right," he grumbled.

  He and Ace hadn't come out and said anything to Deb or Goose, but they both seemed to know anyway. Goose hadn't given any signal that it mattered to him one way or another, barely pausing in his rant about the unacceptability of generic brand Oreos to acknowledge it. Deb vacillated between tacit approval and hard-edged ribbing that probably amounted to the same thing.

  "So what's the offer?" Deb asked.

  "She thinks I should come work at the bar one night a week. She doesn't have time to date, so... we could do that instead? But it seems sort of forced to me." Goose exhaled hard. "And I'd have to give up a night here, and the money isn't as good."

  "She can't squeeze you in some other time of week?" Liam added a line on the index finger, then erased it again.

  "It's like some kind of test, man. I don't know. See if I'll do it."

  "Frankie isn't the testing kind," Deb put in, finally abandoning her desk chair. She picked up Goose's legs, then sat down on the couch and let them fall back over her lap. "You could take Tuesday. You never make money on Tuesdays."