"Okay. Okay, we'll grab some clothes and get out of here. You want to book a flight, or just . . . ?"
"We can ask for a helicopter tour of the mainland. Then get off, and go. We can get a flight at the nearest airport."
"You're sure?"
"I think so. But the most important thing is to go, not where we go. We have to get away from here as fast as we can."
"I thought it was safe here."
"So did I," he answered grimly.
As we finished the conversation, we were already getting up, throwing on clothes, and now we packed two small bags in a flurry. We had money, a couple of changes of clothes each, our phones, a couple of energy bars and water bottles. That was about it.
"Let's go," said Ellery, looking like an unlikely explorer with his flyaway pale hair, his slight build, and his lip gripped between his teeth so it wouldn't tremble. He was carrying a backpack and was wearing khaki shorts with lots of pockets, sunglasses, and a faded cotton t-shirt with the resort's name on it. It had clearly been through the wash more times than anything else in the room, but he loved it, and wore it all the time.
I surveyed him doubtfully. "Better grab some sunblock. And hats." Then I kissed him, and went to call for a flight tour.
#
I'm sure some of our unease conveyed itself to our tour guide and pilot, but they were too professional to say anything, aside from being slightly more solicitous than usual about asking us if we needed anything.
We were, after all, pretty odd to begin with, and it was rude to mention weird behavior to people who were pretty much paid for their weird behavior. Besides that, we had to be given every possible concession.
We clung to each other a little more than normal as the helicopter rose into the air. The hair on the back of my neck was doing the wave and my adrenaline was screaming, but we got into the air and headed over the mainland.
There were jungle-y areas, and wide, sweet beaches, treacherous roads, and huge, decadent resorts. The pilot took us over these lush landscapes. The tour guide called out information, but we were both too keyed up to pay much notice.
I could feel the intensity rolling off Ellery, how hard he was trying to find a clue what to do next. He wasn't going to feel easy until we were well away from the resort, and probably not even then, till we knew what was wrong.
I squeezed his hand harder, trying to offer reassurance, but it's a wonder if he could even feel my hand by this point. We'd been clinging to each other tightly enough that my knuckles looked even paler than usual.
It turned out that we were both afraid of flying in a helicopter. This was my first time, so I hadn't known that. My teeth kept trying to clack together, and my heart was trying to jump out of my chest and run away. It was a lot different from a smooth, commercial airline flight. It felt exposed and dangerous.
As for Ellery, he'd known he was afraid of helicopter flights; nothing about this surprised him. He was enduring it, but he couldn't stop the trembling all through his body. He sat as close to me as he could and clung to my hand as a lifeline. I was his only strength right now. It's probably good he couldn't read my feelings or he'd have realized I was just as panicky as he was. He closed his eyes and bit his lip.
"Hey," I said, on a sudden inspiration. I touched the tour guide's shoulder to get his attention. "Hey, Ellery's feeling a little sick. Could we stop somewhere nice and have something to eat or drink?"
We could; they arranged it. I looked at Ell in triumph.
He tried to smile at me with bloodless lips. He couldn't stop trembling, and I felt shame welling up in him. He didn't want to be weak in front of me. He didn't want me to be ashamed of him or embarrassed by him . . .
"It's fine." I reached up to mess up his already-wild hair. "It's not a problem." I hoped he'd understand that the reassurance was real, not just a show for the pilot and the tour guide.
We hadn't had any issues with becoming a couple while we were here. Nobody treated us differently. I had the distinct impression that no one was the least bit surprised, and had thought we were dating all along.
It felt odd, being the last to accept it.
After we landed, it was easier. I could think again, and Ell, though a little wobbly on his legs, was much happier as well. We were passably convincing as beleaguered tourists.
We ordered cold drinks; we planned to sit down and have a light lunch. "He skipped breakfast," I informed the tour guide. "Always thinks he knows better than his blood sugar!" I played it just slightly camp, and very lovey-dovey, so we'd seem a bit silly and not as nervous as we actually were.
Then, while the tour guide waited for the food to arrive, we managed to get away, heading into the bathroom to 'freshen up.' I felt a bit bad for the guide for ditching him like this, but we didn't know another way. He was sticking to the clueless gay tourists like glue. What trouble he thought we'd get into, I couldn't say, but he meant to look after us. We gave him the slip anyway, heading out of the bathroom another way, and from there, slipping away as fast and far as we could.
It took some time to find the airport because we were both useless at directions and didn't know the area, but by asking several people, we eventually ended up in the right area, and before we knew it, we'd booked a flight. It was four hours till the flight, even though we hadn't been picky about our destination.
All our papers were in order; nobody batted an eyelid. The airline employees were friendly and pleasant to us. But now we had to stay out of sight for four hours, in case anybody was looking for us.
"Cell phones," said Ellery suddenly. He'd been in a bit of a reverie, and now he blinked, looking at me. "I have a feeling . . ." He stopped and looked down at his phone in his hands as if it had become some kind of giant insect that might be poisonous.
"GPS," I said, catching his line of thought. Whether it had been one of his insights or just common sense, I could see he was right. If someone wanted to find us, they could track us through our cell phones. Well, we could afford new ones. "Let's ditch them somewhere in the water," I told him quietly. That would likely kill their components pretty well.
He nodded tightly, and we wandered to a nearby fountain. We waited till no one was looking, then slid them carefully into the water. Whoever dropped coins in next might spot them, if they looked closely at just the right spot.
Then we went over to haunt the food stands and gift shops, trying to stay out of the way and hidden till our flight time came.
We ate mango ice cream; we bought more sunglasses and a couple of t-shirts. We each got enough cash out of the ATMs that we wouldn't have to use our credit cards for quite some time. Neither of us knew how long we had to disappear (or even if we did have to disappear), but it couldn't hurt to have some cash and be prepared.
There would be a record of our flight, of course, but after this we could find alternate means of transportation that weren't so easily tracked. We should be able to stay one step ahead of whoever wanted to find us.
If, indeed, anyone did.
I caught Ellery looking at me sometimes, and I could feel his doubt as he wondered if I trusted him and how long I'd stick with him on this madcap flight. He'd been burned before; of course he had. Most of his life, people hadn't put much stock in his fears, especially the weird ones. And this one was pretty odd.
I promised myself I wouldn't let him down, even if he'd gotten something wrong. After all, who hasn't dreamed of going on the run with his boyfriend from villains unnamed and dangerous? Or is that only me?
I suppose the heist daydreams are just me as well, right?
#
I fell asleep on the flight. From the grayish tinge in his skin and the exhausted tension in his whole frame, I had the feeling Ellery hadn't. He'd probably stayed awake in a state of vibrating tension and worried the whole flight.
I wanted to comfort him, but wasn't sure how. It was a busy flight; I couldn't exactly offer him sex here and now. It would be a distraction, sure, but it would also get us a lot of at
tention, notoriety, and probably some kind of indecency charge. They're pretty strict about that kind of thing.
The man at the used car dealership clearly thought we were pretty odd, buying a nondescript four-door for cash. Strange or not, he took our money, and soon we were traveling again. I insisted on driving, and told Ell to at least try to get some shuteye.
"I'll find us a cheap hotel and you can rest, okay?"
"Okay." He was drooping, and he felt depressed and low about the whole thing. I didn't want to ask if he had any clue yet what was going on.
"Hey, I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere," I promised.
He cast me a quick, sweet smile filled with such tenderness and love, despite his sadness and stress, that it almost took my breath away.
"I know," he said, like that was a revelation, unexpected and precious to him — but maybe not one he expected to last.
As I pulled into the parking lot of a small but inoffensive-looking hotel, I decided to dare asking something after all. "So, what do your powers tell you about our relationship? You seem confident that we belong together, but you think I'll let you down and stop believing you."
"No! I don't think that!" He bit his lip, looking torn. "It's just . . . hard to believe anyone really trusts me. And I hope I haven't gotten something important wrong somewhere."
The whole Shardwell Group trusted him, but I decided not to point that out. I also noticed he'd dodged the question of what he knew about our relationship. Maybe I didn't want to know. If it ended in a couple of weeks, I was going to be seriously pissed off at both of us — him for letting me think we had a chance, and me for being a sucker again.
Still, he was already the best boyfriend I'd ever had. Loving, cute, kind, and committed. Plus the sex was to die for.
Maybe I should worry less about his gift and more about putting the effort into making it work.
"I'm not going anywhere," I told him. "Not unless you're going too." I drew him close and gave him a gentle kiss. It calmed him a little, but he was exhausted and stressed to the limit.
Being on the lam and not sure why or how much danger we were in was more stressful than the worst day of going over contracts.
We got out of the car and went to check in. He didn't say anything about not feeling safe at this hotel, and I didn't get any hugely hostile vibes, so we got a room for two days and paid in cash. But when we got to the little room, carrying our bags, probably looking almost as exhausted as we felt, I groaned inwardly.
There were rodents in the walls. Great. I couldn't hear them scratching or anything, but I felt them. My awareness was on high alert anyway, but I'm usually aware of animals, not in as much detail of emotion as I am with people, but I'm aware of their presence, their general hostility or happiness levels, things of that nature.
There was a nest of something, either rats or mice, or hell, for all I knew someone's escaped chinchillas or hamsters breeding in the walls, and they were fairly content there. As long as they didn't start chewing in the night or running up and down over our legs — and I really hoped they wouldn't — I decided not to tell Ell and possibly freak him out over nothing.
I have a live-and-let-live policy towards animals, even rodents in the walls. I hoped these guys had the same policy towards people and would stay away. We had enough on our plates without having to look for a new hotel in the middle of the night.
Ellery didn't say anything or seem bothered by the room, so we each took a quick shower and we bedded down for the night.
I needed to think, plan, and do — but not yet. Despite my sleep on the flight, I was more worn out than I'd been in some time, possibly since after my car accident when I was on serious painkillers and couldn't stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time.
Lots of important things were swirling around, waiting to be done, but stress, jet lag, and pure exhaustion demanded sleep first. I slid closer to Ellery. He made room for me gladly, but he still seemed sad, regretful, weary, and filled with doubt. Did he think I'd let him down?
I drew him closer for a cuddle and kissed his temple. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
He huddled against me as if he was searching for warmth in a blizzard. He was trembling, and he clung close. He didn't say anything, but I felt and heard him gulping back sobs, trying to contain his strangling emotions, trying to be cool and confident — and finding it completely beyond him.
I stroked his hair, his back, his neck, and I held him.
"I know it's scary, but I'm glad you told me. I'm glad we're here together. I wouldn't change a thing. We'll figure it out and be able to go home eventually. But I'm not in a hurry, and I don't doubt you, okay? I won't let you down."
He nodded shakily.
Eventually he wore himself out enough to fall asleep. But he clung to me all night long, and I didn't want to let him go, either.
The rats/mice/woodchucks did indeed scurry around in the walls. I heard some very loud gnawing just before I dropped off to sleep.
Oh, shit, I thought.
But it turned out the noise didn't bother us at all. We slept so deeply we'd probably have missed an earthquake.
#
We slept till it was afternoon, and awoke finally rested. My head was quieter now. I could think. And feel.
Lying in my arms, Ell's despair felt real enough to drain batteries, drain the ocean, drain him dry. I kissed him gently, and he stopped pretending to be asleep. We needed to shower, eat, and find out what was going on in our lives. But not most of all.
"Tell me what's wrong."
He shook his head. "It's nothing like that. I'm just . . . worried."
I stretched lazily, at least the best I could without releasing him. I felt tired but more rested than I had last night, and a little stiff. The strange hotel room with the rodents in the walls was a blessed haven to me, a sacred space with my boyfriend, with Ellery.
"What do you know about us, about the future? I feel like you know something," I told him.
He didn't have to answer, the spark inside him was such a loud "yes."
I kissed him again. "Come on. You can tell me. I promise it won't make me love you any less."
I looked at him to see if he was going to comment on the L-word. He didn't. We'd said it before, during sex and sometimes teasingly, usually accompanied by a pillow tossed in the face or a grab for the remote, followed by playful scuffling. "That's what I love about you. You're so unselfish!"
I liked scuffling with Ell. I was bigger and stronger, and it was nice knowing that. Of course I never used my greater strength against him — we could've been evenly matched for all the little scuffles proved — but it was nice being the bigger guy for once, instead of being with some big lug who, despite any level of sensitivity on other matters, could always hurt me by proving he was bigger and laughing about it.
Some men (and even some women) seem to find it terribly funny if you're smaller than they are. Big people can be thoughtlessly unkind sometimes, finding it funny to knock over or pin down someone smaller, and feel him struggle, indignant and uncomfortable. If it's done with affection, and it usually was in my experience, with more of an overgrown puppy attitude than outright cruelty, they seem to think it's funny and shouldn't hurt.
Ell and I didn't do that with each other. Both of us were finely attuned to the gradations of power, strength, and the hidden dominance that comes out from people who think they're perfectly respectable, yet aren't above making you squirm if they can. Or telling short jokes. Or making jabs about height. Or holding something too high, just out of your reach.
And all the time, you have to pretend you don't mind, that it really is funny, affirming their place of magnitude and rightness, when you'd really like to punch them in the balls till they fall over writhing and you're the one standing tall over them for once.
Except then you'd be a poor sport, one of those fierce, angry short people without a sense of humor — quite the laughingstock, always and forever. Why can't short p
eople have a sense of humor, after all? They're just so damn funny; they should learn to laugh at themselves like anyone else.
Ell and I weren't like that with each other. He was smaller than I was, and very gentle with me in his own way. I was bigger, but very aware never to use that against him, and to pull back if he felt even the slightest bit uncomfortable or intimidated by me. Sometimes I knew it before he did.
Now I didn't rush him, but I didn't take my question back either, just waited patiently, stroking his cheek with my fingers, waiting. He was feeling torn: superstitious fear warring with guilt about keeping something from me. He wanted to trust me, but he'd had bad experiences with trusting people.
I understood more than I wanted to.
Yet I could only wait for him to make the decision. It was changing things, my asking, but it needed to happen. We had to start trusting one another, and in a way, we'd both been holding back. If he answered me truthfully, it might change things a lot. But it would change things more if he didn't.
I couldn't be sorry I'd asked. I needed to know, and so did he. However he responded, at least we'd know where we stood.
Right now, he was afraid to trust me, to accept that I'd believe him and not let him down. And I was still holding part of myself back, believing he'd be like all the others who couldn't really love me, who'd left as soon as it got tough or they grew bored.
And it got tough a lot for me. Now things were tough for him, too, and he needed to decide where we stood.
I knew he couldn't read my thoughts, but some of what I was thinking seemed to reach him through my expression, and he shuddered, an alert, almost frightened look in his eyes. "It's the end if I don't, isn't it?"
"No," I said. "Of something, maybe, but it doesn't have to be the end of everything."
I kissed him, very gently, and he kissed me back, his mouth trembling a little.
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