His Ex-Boyfriend

by Avis Black

"Tcha," said Alexis with disgust. "The cavalry's arrived."

  Jason heard Mellor open the car door and climb inside. The singer didn't leave, however. The noise of the helicopter became so loud it pounded Jason's eardrums like tom-toms.

  "Jason?"

  Someone's calling my name over a loudspeaker? The guitarist lifted his head, brushing sand from his face. Alexis's feet were on the dash of the car, his arms spread across the seat, watching skywards.

  "Carl?" Jason shouted. He had never been so thankful in his life.

  The two men on the ground turned their faces away as the helicopter landed, raising a storm of sand. When it touched down, Carl leapt out, running towards Jason in a protective crouch. “Are you all right? Can you stand?"

  "I think so."

  "Stay down. C'mon." Carl pulled the guitarist to his feet, and they ran for the safety of the helicopter, the manager boosting him into the passenger seat.

  When Carl joined him on the other side, Jason gestured with his bound wrists, his face pleading.

  "Don't worry, I've got bolt cutters."

  "Thank you. Thank you." The guitarist was trying not to weep.

  "Unfortunately, they're at home. Don't worry, I'll have you out of here as fast as I can. Are you all right? Tell me the truth."

  "I'm fine." Actually, if it hadn't been for the seatbelt Carl had buckled around him, Jason might have keeled over.

  "Jason," Carl repeated. Their eyes met.

  "I'll survive," the guitarist replied, ashamed of himself. "Just get us out of here."

  Alexis was still watching them, lounging at ease inside his car. As Carl began preparing for the ascent, Mellor cupped his hands and called out, "Kilburn! Remember my present!"

  Carl stopped in the middle of donning his headset. For a second, the manager seemed completely baffled, then his face clouded. He let out a stream of profanity. It did Jason good to hear this venom directed at the singer. As for Alexis, the singer only raised his eyebrows.

  "All that?" said Alexis. "My, my. You sound upset."

  The next instant, Carl was pointing a rifle, squinting fiercely through the sights. The gun fired, and Alexis leapt as the bullet hit his car.

  Ping! Hissssssss.

  "Stop that!" Alexis shouted furiously.

  A stream of green coolant poured from the bullet hole in the radiator. "Have fun walking home," Carl yelled back. He glanced at Jason.

  Stunned again, it took Jason a moment to understand. Then a slightly demented smile crossed the guitarist's face. "He told me he'd forgotten his cell phone.”

  "Too bad, eh?" Carl grinned. "He's miles from anywhere."

  Jason lost his smile at those words, remembering how close to death he'd been. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

  "We're gone." The copter shot into the sky.

  Chapter 15

  "Now hold still."

  This wasn't possible, of course. Jason was trembling too much. Tactfully, Carl said nothing, only bracing Jason's hands one at a time between his knees as he used the bolt cutters. "Not too tight, plenty of room here, ah, that's it."

  The cuffs fell to the floor, and Jason kicked them savagely across the room. The humiliation of wearing them had burnt right into his soul.

  They were sitting in the manager's apartment. The guitarist moved slightly and was surprised to feel a camouflage-patterned army jacket around his shoulders. He couldn't remember when Carl had draped it around him.

  Carl tossed the cutters aside and dropped into an armchair, picking up a glass of vodka. "What happened?" the manager demanded. “If it weren't for the tracker I had on Alexis' car, I never would have caught up with you.”

  As he watched the vodka disappear down the other man's throat in a single gulp, Jason thought numbly, He can be rattled? I didn't think anything bothered Carl. Reluctantly, the guitarist told him about Amanda and Alexis.

  "Damn," said Carl when Jason finished. "You know what? I blame the brat. If you'd never met Rafe, none of this would have happened to you. You'd still be married. It's all Rafe's fault."

  Jason wanted to scream. "It was not,” he replied. “I was just as guilty. If I hadn't played around with Rafe, Amanda never would have left me, and I wouldn't have made an enemy out of Alexis. Rafe moved beyond me two years ago, and I just couldn't accept it. Fuck!" He shoved his hair out of his eyes, grateful for the freedom to make the gesture. A little caked sand fell to the floor.

  "Here." Carl went into the kitchen and came back with a refill of vodka for himself and a wet dishcloth. Kneeling in front of Jason, he began to wipe leftover sand off the guitarist's face. It was a struggle for Jason to control himself and not break down in front of the other man. "I've really, really fucked things up. God, do you have anything that will help me sleep tonight?"

  Carl gestured with the glass in his hand, tilting it slightly.

  Jason rested his elbows on his knees, bowing his head so his face was hidden. Though out of physical danger, he was still miserable and terrified. "Please. Something stronger," he whispered.

  Carl watched him a moment, then set his glass aside and rose. When he returned, he was holding two pills. "One's a sleeping pill," he said. "The second's for post-traumatic stress disorder. It's a new treatment, though it hasn't been approved by the government yet. I had to smuggle my stash in."

  Nothing like post-traumatic stress disorder to turn you into a guinea pig. Jason snatched the pills from Carl's hand and swallowed them dry, then reached for the glass of vodka to dislodge the mass in his throat. The manager bumped his wrist aside. A moment later, Carl returned from the kitchen with a cup of water.

  "Give me your glass," Jason demanded.

  "Sorry. Can't mix those pills with alcohol."

  "Dammit, GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING GLASS." I didn't even shout at Alexis like this, so why am I losing it, now that I'm safe? How can I be saying this to Carl?

  They were both on their feet, now. Jason was shaking. Carl handed him the water, and the guitarist swallowed the liquid. "Please. Give me some vodka. I'm dying here."

  "You'll live," Carl replied quietly. "Don't worry. The pills work fast."

  "They'd fucking better work fast!” Where's the bottle? His kitchen counter. Off I go. He vaulted over the back of the couch, but wasn't fast enough. Carl shot past him and had the bottle upside down and galooping into the sink before Jason could grab it.

  "Fuck you, damn you, fuck you," Jason chanted, howling like a junkie deprived of his fix. "Give me a drink. God, you're making me suffer more than I ever have before in my life." The guitarist began to weep, all maudlin now. "You're worse than Alexis."

  He was answered by a hiss and the words, "I'm what?" Carl's face was red, his nostrils flaring.

  What did I just say? I can't remember. He's upset about something. He's hurt. I've hurt him. Forgive me, Jason mouthed. Forgive me for losing my honor, for destroying Rafe's life, for destroying Amanda's, for hurting my daughter, and now you. I've lost everyone and everything I've ever valued. I have to apologize.

  The guitarist fell down, striking his forehead on the floor. Everything seemed to turn fuzzy white, then he was wallowing on all fours. Why am I down here, facing Carl's toe caps? Oh, I'm begging. At least I think I'm down here to beg, but why am I so weak all of a sudden? No, I remember. What's this? Someone's hauling me up by the arms, and now he's lifting me.

  He tried to shove Carl away, but his whole body was going numb. Carl's eyes were soft with pity. "Poor bastard," the manager said as he carried Jason down the hall towards a bed.

  Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me, Jason mouthed over and over. He passed out.

  He dreamed so vividly that night. He dreamed about Amanda and the misery of a betrayed wife. He dreamed about Rafe's pain. He dreamed about Denny's despair over an impossible friend, and Alexis's anger.

  All perfectly justified.

  He'd lost all. At one point he screamed in his sleep, yelling he must be punished for everything he'd done. A samurai sword lifted high over his he
ad and sliced downwards, aiming directly at his face.

  Jason woke. He was alive, and the only thing that stabbed him was daylight, knifing him cruelly in the eyes. But something was strange. He could barely remember the last twenty-four hours. Intellectually, the events were there. Emotionally, they were distant. What had happened? He'd parted from Amanda. He grieved over the separation, but he'd known it was coming. He'd enraged Alexis. Nothing new there. I've probably been pissing him off for years. He was never a friend of mine. He'd had one night with Rafe. No regrets, exactly as Rafe promised.

  But he would always feel regret.

  He'd lived two years without his ex-boyfriend. It hadn't killed him. He could go on living without Rafe. But that one night was all he would ever have, unto eternity.

  Jason rolled over and faced the blinds, mourning. I. AM. SUCH. A. WORLD-CLASS. FUCKUP. Furthermore--aw, fuck it.

  He looked around. He was lying in a strange bed.

  Bad. He'd done this before, the strange bed thing. A faint noise of breathing alerted him. Worse, thought Jason. I can't remember a date. He turned his head on the pillow. The other occupant was facing away.

  Big shoulders. Very big. I guess that rules out a woman. Is this someone I know, or did I pick up a guy in a bar? He's blond. God, please don't let it be Lang. I wouldn't do something that stupid, would I?

  He pushed the sheet down and felt cold. A worried inspection revealed that he was naked, as was his bedmate. Okay. I'm not going to panic. I'll just find my clothes, put them on, and sneak out.

  The other occupant of the bed rolled over and gave a slight twitch of his nose. Fuck, thought Jason. Panic time. He flew out of the bed and was snatching madly at the scattered clothes, trying to find ones that fit. "I'm sorry to leave in such a hurry," he said, shoving a leg into a pair of jeans and hoping they were his. "But this is a very compromising situation, and I have to go."

  "Muh?" replied Carl, waking to the commotion. Shirts and jackets were flying around as Jason searched frantically for his missing wardrobe. Carl threw aside the sheet and rose, scratching his chest.

  The display sent Jason into shock. Every inch of Carl was big, brawny, blond--all the B adjectives. It was overwhelming. "Thank you for last night for whatever that was," said Jason wildly, hopping into a sock, "I'm sorry I can't remember it. I have to be leaving for our morning practice, and I--"

  The manager snorted and knotted a terrycloth bathrobe around himself, halting the guitarist with a hand on his shoulder. "We didn't do anything, you dumb musician," Carl growled.

  "We didn't? Oh God. I apologize."

  "For what?" Carl replied irritably.

  "For offending you. I didn't mean to imply anything." Jason was buttoning up his shirt so fast he accidentally fastened all the holes a notch off. "I don't remember how I got here."

  "I put you to bed 'cause you passed out. You were still covered with sand, so I took your clothes off and, ah, wiped you down." Carl seemed a little embarrassed.

  "Was I drinking? I didn't mean to be a bother."

  "No, you weren't. Your buttons are in the wrong holes."

  "Oh. Yeah. Are you sure everything was--completely proper last night?"

  "I'm certain," Carl replied wistfully.

  This was Jason's second great shock of the morning. It was like being drenched in a cold shower, then getting a bucket of hot water in the face just as he reached for a towel. He turned white and red alternately. "Do you wish--it had been otherwise?" Jason asked, staring.

  "What do you know about me?"

  "You're my manager," the guitarist replied, wondering where the hell this was going.

  "Did you ever have an inkling that I once had--briefly--very briefly--an affair with a person of my own gender?" Carl didn't mention that it had been with Alexis.

  Jason gave him a fish-eyed look. "No."

  "Okay," the manager replied awkwardly. "I guess we're even. I didn't know that you'd had an affair with Rafe until a few weeks ago."

  "Yeah. I--I guess we're even on that score." Both he and Carl glanced away from each other, studying walls. Jason frowned. "Did you mind?" he asked abruptly.

  "What?"

  "Did you--mind--having an affair with another man?" Jason thought he felt brave enough, so he turned back.

  "No, though he was the wrong guy. He told me so himself."

  "And you broke it off?"

  "Yeah."

  "It's very broad-minded of you to tell me all this," said Jason, backing slowly away. "Don't get me wrong, I don't have any prejudices against that kind of thing because--"

  "You've done it yourself."

  "True, there is that. So!" Jason slapped a tabletop and accidentally knocked a small box to the floor. "Crap, I'm sorry, I've spilled the contents." He tried to pick up the scattered items and didn't even notice the Mr. Bunny decal on top of the box.

  "Don't--!"

  Too late, Jason found himself holding a handful of condom packets and a fresh tube of lube. The guitarist didn't recognize what he was returning to the box until he was nearly finished. Then his face froze. He slammed the lid shut and found Mr. Bunny's pink face beaming up at him between his fingers.

  "That was a present. Someone gave it to me as a joke."

  "It was a rather cruel joke, then," Jason replied, his face red.

  "Yeah," Carl agreed ruefully. "But the giver was trying to hook me up with someone I've been fond of for a long time." He studied a wall.

  Jason's eyes fixed on the manager. "Fond?" the guitarist prompted.

  "Fond. Friendship, admiration, affection, sex, life, the universe, everything." Carl sighed. "It's all a jumble. I've never gone out with this person even once, so I don't know how to describe the relationship."

  Jason swallowed. "Unrequited love is the old-fashioned term."

  Carl was still studying the wall. "That's correct, but only if you know whether it's completely unrequited." He glanced at Jason.

  The guitarist gave his manager another fish-eyed look. "True. You'd have to know that for certain." He made a half-grab for his nearby leather jacket and missed completely.

  "Jason.”

  "Um?"

  "Would you like to go out on a date?"

  "With whom?" Jason asked after a pause. His heart began to pound.

  "With a friend."

  "I could--go anywhere with a friend, I suppose."

  "Would you go out on a date with a friend even though it might mean ending up with a lover?"

  Now that the question had been asked, Jason was almost paralyzed. "I can't tell without knowing what this lover would be like."

  "You've known him quite a while," Carl observed.

  "Not that way."

  "All right. You deserve a sample." Carl began to unknot his robe.

  "Wait a minute!" Jason shouted. The other man moved closer, and Jason found himself backing into a wall. "You're still my manager, and this is very, very weird. Wait a second, dammit."

  "You know what? I have the idea you'd do better with this if you start things first. You take the first step, and just kind of--familiarize yourself with the territory."

  "Wait a moment," Jason replied shakily. He shut his eyes. "Give me a moment. All right." The guitarist reached out and began to undo Carl's robe. When he had it open, he gazed for a long moment.

  "Go ahead," Carl urged.

  Cautiously, Jason moved a hand across the other man's chest, feeling the texture of his skin, the light covering of short blond hairs, stroking across the firm muscles. He explored further, moving down ribs and easing towards Carl's abdomen. "Sorry," Jason said, lifting his hand away. "I went too far."

  "That's all right." They both glanced down. "That sort of reaction was inevitable."

  They waited a moment. "I don't think you should touch me like that again. I can't control everything today.” Carl rubbed a hand across his face. Jason nodded wordlessly and swallowed.

  "So now you know me a little better. What do you say?"

  The g
uitarist was standing so close he could smell the warm scent of the other man in his nostrils. He glanced down again. It was strangely touching to watch this man fighting his strong sexual arousal and losing. Somehow, this was arousing in itself.

  Jason looked up. He felt the echo inside his own body, unmistakable in its mimicry. For a long moment, he gazed into the anxious eyes before him. "Yes, Mr. Carl Kilburn. As sudden as all of this is to me, I'll go out with you."

  "Thank you, God," said Carl fervently. "One last thing. I promise you won't regret it."

  The door to Alexis's apartment opened slowly. In truth, the man opening the door had little energy left. Alexis was filthy from his hike, though he'd managed to hail a cab for the last part of the way. He was still holding the samurai sword, its sheath as dusty as himself. Wearily, he hung it on the wall.

  Rafe was no longer on the couch. The vase of roses was gone, too. Alexis opened the door to the bedroom and found Rafe in his pyjamas, lying on top of the bedspread. The singer glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. Rafe must have tried to stay up for him, but dozed off despite himself. Exhausted, the singer stood over the bed, gazing downwards. His face was utter misery. The faint noise of his entrance was just enough to wake the sleeper.

  "What did you do to Jason?" Rafe cried. "Is he dead?"

  "No. He's with Carl."

  "Did you hurt him?"

  "Only his emotions. Anyway, Jason and Carl should have made the first step by now and become involved with each other."

  "What!?"

  Rafe's shock was painfully obvious, and Alexis had to shut his eyes at the sight. Then the singer sat down on the bed, massaging his aching calves. "That was my solution. Carl's been in love with Jason for ages, and I've known about it for a long time. They needed a nudge, so I gave them one."

  "Are you telling me the truth?"

  "I'm sorry."

  "You don't need to apologize," replied Rafe, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  "Rafe?" Alexis was holding out a silver leaf. "Do--do you still want it?" he asked hesitantly.

  Rafe blinked at him. "Of course I want it. Why shouldn't I?"