Stunned, defeated, and quite unused to not getting his own way, Marcus picked himself up off the floor, pulled his jeans back up, and made his way to the door with his luggage. At one point he looked back at Grant, but for perhaps the first time in his life he was speechless. He just shook his head and threw the keys on the floor. He wasn’t usually the kind to cave that easily, but he had gotten the message loud and clear – it was definitely over.
Marcus was gone, but for a change Grant was grateful to be alone with his feelings. He knew he shouldn’t have shoved the man like that, but his arrogance had known no bounds. Years of pent-up frustration had pushed Grant over the edge, and the last thing that Marcus was going to get – tonight or ever again – was another piece of him.
His heart was still racing after his out-of-character show of bravado, and he was suddenly as thirsty as he’d ever remembered being. Hobbling over to the fridge, he grabbed another beer and took it to his couch. He took a long swig and put the can down and put his head in his hands – suddenly unable to shake the memory of Bobby’s plaintive face as he looked back at him earlier that evening.
He had gladly burned one bridge tonight, but it was too much to think that he might have burned two of them. He would spend the rest of the night going over in his mind what to say to the boy next. All he knew is that he wanted him back – desperately. If Bobby would have him, that is. Right then, however, it seemed like a very big “if.”
Bobby had made his way home somehow, but like last Friday night he didn’t remember how. He felt shattered at the turn of events at Grant’s apartment. The man had just asked him to move in with him – albeit temporarily – and he had been on the verge of saying “Yes!” when it all came crashing down with the arrival of Grant’s apparent long-time lover, Marcus.
Bobby didn’t understand. Why hadn’t Grant mentioned Marcus the last time he was there? Why had he invited him to move in with him if Marcus had been given a set of keys to his new apartment? Would Marcus be staying long? Why had Grant allowed Marcus to get rid of him so easily? Would Grant ever invite him back? Would Bobby even go if invited?
He felt terribly confused and betrayed. All he was sure of was that before Marcus showed up Grant had touched him deeply – both literally and figuratively – and that he had wanted more of it. Much more.
CHAPTER 9
Unable to face anyone at the bank on Thursday, Bobby called in sick and went back to bed to nurse his extreme anger and sorrow. A lesser man might have raided Grant’s bank account with his ATM card and left town, but Bobby wasn’t that kind of man. He was just a guy who needed someone to love – and love him in return – but the “someone” he’d been allowing himself to want so badly belonged to someone else. It was crushing, and that’s all he could think about all day long.
In a similar state of mind across town, Grant called Bobby’s number that morning – his work number was the only one he had – and got his voicemail greeting. It was his generic one and didn’t mention anything about taking the day off. So he left a message:
“Bobby, this is Grant. Please call me. I need to talk to you.”
An hour later, he left another one:
“Bobby, Grant again. Please man, I really need to talk to you. I can explain.”
And he followed it up with a third one an hour after that:
“Bobby, Marcus is gone – I swear. Don’t make me beg – please call me. I need you.”
By noon Grant had given up on hearing back from Bobby. He was either out of the office, or he wasn’t going to call him back. He felt sick. The day and night dragged by like a month. He felt sure he’d blown the opportunity of a lifetime and tried to think of what else he could do to get the boy back in his apartment again. God, it was so empty without him!
Bobby reluctantly dragged his butt to work on Friday morning. Being a new trainee, he didn’t yet have any paid sick leave built up, and he definitely needed the money to be able to pay his share of the rent. He got himself a much-needed cup of coffee and sat down to his pile of overdue work. Noticing his voicemail light flashing, he felt a surge of nervous trepidation. Had Grant called him already? He thought it would be at least a week before he did – if ever.
Hearing the system operator say that he had four messages, he let himself hope that at least one of them would be from Grant. The first, however, was a total surprise – a familiar New England accent.
“Hey, tiger, it’s Philip! I know you’ve been missin’ me like crazy. Or at least my mouth – ha! I’ll be back in Nashville next Friday for a job interview. What say we get together, banker boy? I’ll give you a call when I get there. Meantime, save it up for me. Ciao!”
Oh, my God, thought Bobby. That’s all he needed to complicate his life. A week ago he might’ve welcomed a visit from his old college roommate, but not right now. Not when he was so mixed up about his feelings for Grant. Philip was too self-absorbed to ever be of much real comfort anyway, although he had shown a more caring side of himself at their college commencement a few weeks ago. Bobby still remembered the way that Philip had hugged him when they said good-bye.
When he heard the second message, and then the third, and then the final one, it was all he could do to keep his professional demeanor in check. Grant had left three messages for him yesterday – in increasing degrees of urgency. Did he really say that Marcus was gone?
Bobby wanted to call Grant back right away but didn’t. He needed some time to think about what to say. He got himself a second cup of coffee and paced a bit. Returning to his cubicle, he tried to start on his accumulated work, but it was no use. He had to talk to Grant. At 9:45 he dialed Grant’s number but was disappointed to get a busy signal. He tried again twice more during the morning with the same result.
By noon he’d made up his mind what to do next. As angry as he still was at Grant, he needed to see the man worse than he needed lunch, although he’d eaten little in the past 36 hours.
He drove the short distance to Grant’s apartment. He still had his keys and let himself in the building and then stood at Grant’s door for a moment, summoning the courage to knock. There was no answer. He inserted his key in the lock and slowly opened the door and entered – hoping that Grant was right about Marcus being gone.
As he suspected, Grant was asleep on his couch. The phone was on the floor with the receiver off the hook. That explained the busy signals. But why was the man still asleep this late in the day? He was dismayed to see dirty clothes and dishes once again on the tables and floor. Grant hadn’t shaved all week, it appeared.
Bobby watched Grant’s well-defined chest moving as he breathed in and out, oblivious to Bobby’s presence. He was wearing his usual attire – nothing but a pair of thin boxers. Bobby’s eyes went to Grant’s crotch. The boxers barely concealed the man’s sizeable dick – the one that Bobby had washed so carefully on three different occasions in the past week – and that had responded to his touch so readily. Bobby ached to touch it again but didn’t.
Grant was lying with his left arm between his torso and the back of the couch. His left hand was mostly hidden, but Bobby thought he saw something in it. Looking more closely, tears welled up in Bobby’s eyes when he recognized what it was. Grant was holding tightly to the pair of blue loaner briefs that Bobby had worn last weekend and had taken off just before leaving on Sunday night. It was the only tangible thing that Bobby had left behind, and seeing the garment in Grant’s hand nearly made him cry.
The man wasn’t stirring, so Bobby wrote out a note saying he’d be back at 5:30 and then tried to slip out quietly. However, the slight noise woke Grant up, and he thought he was dreaming when he saw Bobby leaving through the door. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. The sleeping pill he’d taken at 4 a.m. after a night of tossing and turning made it difficult to focus.
“Bobby?”
The boy was gone. Had it just been a dream? He knew otherwise when he saw a note taped to his TV screen. He sat up, grabbed it, and devoured every word – especially
the next-to-last one.
“Came by to talk to you, but you were dead asleep. Got your messages this morning. Tried to call you, but your phone was off the hook. Will come back at 5:30 to check on you. We need to talk. Hope you’re all right. Love, Bobby”
Oh, yes!
Then Grant looked at his left hand and realized that he’d slept with Bobby’s briefs in his hand all morning – the ones he had pulled back out of his clothes hamper the night that he’d kicked Marcus out. He wondered if Bobby had noticed just now. Surely he had. He brought the briefs to his face and wept.
Having been given what he regarded as perhaps his last chance to make things right with Bobby, Grant wanted to make a better impression at 5:30 than he had at 12:30. For the first time in a day and a half, he got off his ass and started picking up the mess that he was sorry Bobby had seen. He’d consumed little but a few crackers, some leftover meatloaf, and several cans of beer since Marcus had left Wednesday evening, so he fixed himself a snack and then went to the bathroom.
He certainly didn’t like what he saw in the mirror. Disheveled and unshaven, he looked like death warmed over – kind of the way he had felt before seeing Bobby’s note. He gave himself a sponge bath, shaved, combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and put some deodorant on. Having done his best with what he had to work with, he settled back in on the couch in a clean pair of boxers and tried to watch a little TV and waited impatiently for 5:30 to roll around.
Figuring correctly that Grant would have nothing in the apartment for them to eat, Bobby picked up some fast food and some more beer after work and arrived at 5:40, just as Grant was wondering if he’d really show up. He let himself in, hardly recognizing the now-presentable man on the couch, nor his recently tidied surroundings.
“Well…that’s more like it – you look almost human again.”
“I see you haven’t lost any of your impudence in the past two days. Hello, Bobby. How are you?”
“Better now than I was Wednesday evening.”
“I’m really sorry about that. I had no idea he was going to show up like that. I guess I’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Yeah, I guess you do. But first I bet you’re hungry – as well as out of brew.”
“You’re truly an angel, my lad. How did you know?”
“It wasn’t rocket science. I’m getting to know your ways.”
“Do you want to eat here on the couch?”
Feeling awkward, Bobby declined on the invitation – he wasn’t yet ready to physically bridge the gulf that had developed between them.
“Let’s sit at the kitchen table. Then we can spread our stuff out better.”
Grant pulled himself up on his crutches and joined Bobby at the table. They both were aware of the lack of hugs – unlike last time – but neither felt like making the first move. They ate their sandwiches and fries in near silence, trying to wash their food – and their apprehensions – down with swigs of the cold beer.
After a long awkward silence, Bobby finally broke the ice.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Marcus, Grant?”
“Well…you’re cutting right to the chase. But it’s a fair question.”
Grant squirmed in his seat and thought about what to say.
“I’ve known Marcus since I was not much older than you, Bobby. I fell hard for him right away, but after five years I still hadn’t figured out what kind of relationship we could have. Now I know.”
Grant proceeded to bare his soul to Bobby about how he and Marcus had met, why he had been so attracted to him, why Marcus was seldom around, and why Grant had put up with his long absences and apparent lack of commitment. They hadn’t even had any mutual friends. It was hard for Grant to talk about it – it was the first time he’d ever tried to speak of it to anyone. But it all came tumbling out like water from a downspout after a heavy rain.
Bobby listened silently. He couldn’t imagine how a relationship like that could endure under such circumstances for so long. Grant didn’t seem the type to allow himself to be treated like that. His outward appearance of self-confidence had belied his apparent true nature. Either that or Marcus must be one hell of a bedmate. But still…
“I know I shouldn’t have read Marcus’ postcard, but I couldn’t help it,” Bobby finally said. “Now I’m glad I did – so that his sudden appearance wasn’t all that surprising. But what I don’t understand is why you invited me to move in here temporarily when you knew Marcus was coming back.”
“I never know…knew…when Marcus was really coming and when he was just bull-shitting me. He was always about as predictable as a long-range weather forecast – he went with whatever came up. And – as he so often reminded me – his career came first. I always got the leftovers.”
Bobby wasn’t oblivious to the past tense verbs that Grant was using.
“I finally got fed up and kicked him out.”
“You did? What happened?”
“We had a big argument after he told you to leave Wednesday night. He tried to make light of my feelings once too often. When he started picking on you for your youth and what you’ve done for me lately, I lost it. He wanted to…well, let’s just say have his way with me…and I hauled off and punched him hard in the gut with my crutch. You should’ve seen him flat on his ass with his jeans half off. He was out of here in less than 30 minutes after you left. He won’t be coming back – I can assure you of that. I made him leave his keys and told him it was over. He didn’t fight it, but I think I sure surprised him by standing up to him for the first time in five years.”
Grant managed a weak but satisfied smile.
“Wow – that’s quite a story. I had no idea. So what are you going to do now?”
“Well, I’m going to recover from this ankle break, and then I’m going to find another job and get on with my life. I’ve finally seen the light, Bobby, and I need to take back better control of it.”
“Good for you.” Bobby was seeing a ray of hope, but he was going to let Grant take the lead.
Looking at the floor, Grant paused before continuing. Then he looked up and met Bobby’s eyes, finally summoning the courage to go on.
“Bobby, is there any chance that we could still be friends? I care about you more than I’ve been letting on. And I’d like to believe that you still care about me. Your showing up here twice today tells me you do.”
Bobby looked down for a long time before replying, not unaware of the distress his long pause was causing the older man.
“I don’t know what to say, Grant,” he said without looking up. “You hurt me badly Wednesday night when you let Marcus kick me out like that. I was starting to feel like I mattered to you, and then you pulled the rug out from under me. I didn’t deserve that.”
“You’re absolutely right, Bobby. You’re a good man, and you deserved much better. I’m so sorry I hurt you like that, and I apologize for my behavior. I’ve been a fool for Marcus, but it’s over now. I can guarantee you of that – he’ll never bother us again. I’ve seen what a real man is like now, and I’m not turning back. For someone who’s only 22, you’re incredibly mature and sensitive, and you don’t know how much that appeals to me.
“My offer is still good. I want you to move in with me – starting tonight. If it doesn’t work out for you, I’ll understand, but at least stay with me till I’m back on my feet. Would you?”
Bobby again paused for a few seconds before replying, but it seemed like an eternity to Grant.
“Well…I didn’t bring my jammies with me,” Bobby finally said, letting a shy smile crack his serious countenance.
“Not a problem, my friend. You won’t be needing any. Your spare toothbrush is still here, and you can bring your clothes and stuff over tomorrow. In the meantime, I sure would like another bath with you tonight. How ’bout it?”
Bobby hesitated, still looking for some sure sign that he would be doing the right thing by staying. The look in Grant’s eyes was the one he’d been waiting to see for
days. Slowly getting up from his chair, he went to the bathroom to start the water in the tub.
Returning to the kitchen, he stood in front of Grant, signaling his readiness by slowly unbuttoning and removing his own shirt. Still in his chair, Grant loosened Bobby’s belt and lowered the boy’s zipper, letting his pants fall to the floor. He pulled his briefs down off his slender hips, and slid them down his legs. Bobby stepped out of them.
Fully nude now and starting to go hard, Bobby paused a moment while Grant once again took in the breathtaking sight of him.
“The briefs you loaned me last weekend – I saw them in your hand when you were asleep earlier today. Weren’t they getting a little smelly after five days?” Bobby said with a grin.
“Not at all. They smelled just like you. It was all I had to remember you by.”
Grant held out his arms, and Bobby let himself be engulfed in them while he held the man’s head to his chest.
“I was so afraid I’d lost you, Bobby.”
“I’m still here for you – if you want me.”
Fighting back tears but savoring the renewed intimacy he so desperately wanted, Bobby took Grant’s hand to help him up so he could relieve him of his boxers and help him into the bathroom.
As he did at the beginning of their last bath together, Bobby got on his knees in the tub facing Grant and began giving him a sensuous shampoo massage while his erection bobbed invitingly in front of his older friend. This time he allowed Grant to touch him freely while he closed his eyes and reveled in the sensations that Grant’s magic fingers elicited throughout his body.
Bobby then returned the favor as he washed Grant’s private parts slowly and thoroughly, making Grant moan in pleasure and contentment.
After they got out of the tub, he dried Grant’s body and then stood in front of him while Grant did the same to him.
Someone to Bank on Page 7