by Clancy Nacht
They looked like they'd been out all night. The man grumbled loudly about having to get a new key. "If those bastards think we can be bought off with some cheap champagne and lobster, they've got another thing coming." The man cited other injuries, including how long it took to get a replacement key.
The woman sighed and wobbled along behind him. "The way they acted, you'd think no one loses their keys in this town."
The man glared at her. "I didn't lose it. It was taken. Either way, it shouldn't take half an hour and a chat with my bank to issue a new key!"
The woman was backpedaling, saying that she didn't mean to imply that and that she knew he'd never lost anything in his life and that it was stupid New York's fault and that she couldn't wait to be home where things were normal.
The couple nodded at Chris and Jason as they passed in the narrow hallway. The boys tried to keep straight faces.
Once Chris and Jason were safely in the elevator, the man looked at his keycard, then at the room from which he'd seen the two boys emerge and then back to the two giggling boys as the elevator doors closed.
They were still laughing as they left the Ritz. Jason led them outside and hailed a cab. They drove a while; Jason rested his head on Chris's shoulder and dozed.
After the cab pulled up to the curb, Chris paid the driver and woke Jason.
"Mmm. I was having a dream about you."
"Did you dream about getting out of the cab?"
"Getting off in a cab? You're so dirty." Jason let Chris pull him out of the cab. They stood in front of the brownstone several models shared rent on.
"You want to come in?"
Jason yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Nah. I've had enough of that place."
Chris took Jason's hand and kissed it. "I've had a wonderful time. Will I see you again?"
Smiling, Jason said, "I think we can arrange something." He pulled his hand from Chris's lips and tilted Chris's chin up with his finger.
Chris closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Jason's tongue, tasting the champagne and remnants of butter. "How do I find you?"
Their foreheads pressed together, making Jason's smile blurry. "You don't. I find you."
Jason smiled and then turned on the tip of his boot and sauntered away into the sunrise.
* * * *
When Chris got back home, he found Sebastian waiting up in the darkened living room. The other models staying there were likely either already in bed or out for the night.
Chris locked the door. He heard Sebastian set a glass down before he spoke.
"I know it's none of my business, but we really need to talk about your new friend."
"Sebastian, it's late. I'm tired. And you're right, it's none of your business." Chris hoped Jason was a boyfriend candidate. Maybe he had this whole New York thing figured out. Every time he thought of Jason, he couldn't help but smile.
That said, now away from Jason's sphere of influence, and with Sebastian giving him a pitying look, Chris started to wonder why, out of everyone in the club, Jason gone home with him. Dull old Chris. Was it all an elaborate hoax? Maybe Jason wanted something.
No, Chris wouldn’t get paranoid about Jason's motives right now. He would try to enjoy this gift from the New York gods and not overanalyze it. He just needed to get by Sebastian and then he could relive the night in the shower.
His doubt must've showed on his face because Sebastian wore a look of malicious glee. "He's dicking you around. So to speak." Leaning forward, he said, "He won't let you fuck him."
"Is that so?" Chris flopped onto the tweedy, plaid secondhand couch across from him and threw his feet on the dingy coffee table. Crossing his arms smugly, he felt like the motherfucking king of smooth. Part of him wanted to blurt he'd taken Jason's boyginity, but he decided to hold his tongue and see where Sebastian was going.
Sebastian must've read Chris's confidence, because for a moment he looked uncertain. Then his expression turned grave. "Look, Chris. You seem like a nice guy, so I'm just going to lay it out for you."
"Oh, please do." Sebastian's concerned tone worried Chris, but he had to remember that Sebastian was an actor.
Then again, in a town where Chris had found everything to be an uphill battle, getting with Jason felt too easy.
Sebastian held out his hands in appeal. "He's after your money."
"I don't have any money." Even so, the words hit home. Jason was a thief; Chris witnessed that firsthand. A country bumpkin probably looked like an easy mark.
Giving Chris a pitying look, Sebastian said, "I see it all the time. A new model rolls into town, makes some money that--if he had any sense--he would tuck away for school or a home or whatever, but he doesn't. No, instead he meets Jason. And what does our friend Jason do?"
Chris looked away. "What does he do?"
"He sidles up to them, selling them on his beautiful tragedy, convincing them somehow that he's anything other than a hot mess who couldn't pay rent because he's too busy trying to be fucking gorgeous. It's sad, really. These guys, they just want to set him on the straight and narrow. He takes their money and doesn't even give them so much as a handjob back."
Except Chris had got more than a handjob, hadn't he? His heart clung to the notion that the sex meant something. After all, Sebastian wasn't saying that Jason fucked everyone.
But Chris was a programmer, ruled by his head. When he put the pieces together logically, he recognized Jason was an unrepentant thief. Also, he'd never said that he was a virgin. Then again, physical reactions were harder to fake. Chris sighed and rubbed his temples. "I fucked him."
Sebastian's brows went up before he returned to a portrait of aggressive caring. "Top or bot—never mind. It doesn't matter. So he changed his pattern. Whatever. Maybe his game of chastity got old. The point is you need to get away from him before he takes you for all you're worth."
"What makes you think he's doing that to me? Maybe those many other models were reading too much into his actions." Chris frowned. The same could be said of him. It was a wonderful night, and Jason did seem to really like him, but things in New York were never quite what they seemed.
"Chris, I was his mentor when he came into town last year. He was young and beautiful, a real shot in the arm to modeling. Everyone loved him. I admit, even as a straight man, I got caught up in his charms." He leaned forward so much that Chris thought Sebastian might fall to the floor. But now his face showed real concern, not the strange twisted-lip sneer from before. "But all he did was take. And he took everything: money, presents, anything anyone would give him. And what he doesn't get, he steals. I know you've seen him steal. I could tell by the look on your face just now when I brought it up."
Chris swallowed hard and looked outside to the lightening sky. His stomach churned, half because he'd become attached to Jason so quickly and half because he felt stupid. He should've known better.
"I'm really tired."
Sebastian stood and stretched. He may have been old for modeling, but he was still an incredibly attractive man.
"All right, kid. Just remember what I said. I won't let him in here, so if you really must see him in spite of my warnings, meet him somewhere else. I'm really sorry I didn't shield you from him. I should've dragged you out of there earlier." He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "He probably only picked you up to spite me."
Insult to injury. But at the moment, it made as much sense as anything else did. Why else would a vision like Jason bother to notice some bumpkin? Chris stood and purposefully slammed his shoulder into Sebastian's as he passed him. Reaching the connecting hall, he said, "Good night. And go fuck yourself."
* * * *
Chris sat in bed with his laptop, reading the requirements for transferring his credits from UT to NYU. His talk with Sebastian made it clear what sort of vipers existed in the fashion world. While he was already booked for a few editorials and runway shows, he knew he couldn't count on his career forever; Sebastian was proof of that. He'd only dropped out to see where this m
odeling thing went, and the road looked like a dead end. He'd stick with it for now, though, maybe make enough cash to finish school.
Chris had been up all night. The dawn breeze had been pleasant enough that he'd opened the window, but as the temperature rose, the stench of car fumes and sounds of people shouting in the street had him distracted. Chris pushed his laptop aside and went to the window to close it when he heard Jason's voice over the din.
"Red rover, red rover, let Christopher come over."
Below, wearing gold lamé pants, a translucent white silk vest, and huge, arrogant Jackie O sunglasses, was Jason straddling a messenger bike. His hair was tucked into a cracked orange safety helmet. Just seeing him filled Chris with a rush of resentment, making his head spin. Ducking his head through the window, Chris shouted, "Now is not a good time!"
Jason cupped his hand to his ear like he couldn't hear.
Exhaling impatiently, Chris turned from the window and then ran down the five flights of stairs out to the sidewalk, realizing too late he wore the same thing he’d had on last night. He bent over, panting to catch his breath.
Jason peered over his glasses, smirking. "No rush."
"What… do… you… want?" Chris really needed to start working out.
"I have a surprise for you. Let's go for a ride." Jason pulled the bike up in a wheelie.
"Does… that bike… even belong to you?"
Jason let the wheel drop and stood with the bike between his legs. "They say possession is nine-tenths of the law. I suppose it's nine-tenths mine. Which tenth would you like to ride? I suggest the handlebars. It's not very safe, but I'll let you borrow my helmet." He knocked on the orange shell.
Chris folded his arms. "I don't know what you think you'll get out of me. I'm a poor college student. I have nothing you want."
Crestfallen, Jason dropped his hand. "All I want is to see you."
Chris pantomimed being cashless as if Jason was deaf. "I told you, I do not have any money." He pulled his jean pockets inside out. "Do you comprehend?"
"I don't want your money. I never wanted it. I liked you, but..." Jason peered beyond Chris to the model house. His face turned bright red, and he brought a hand up to wipe away something under his sunglasses. "Whatever."
The heels of Jason’s stilettos tangled in the pedals as he unsteadily whipped the bike around. Chris watched until he turned the corner of the block, feeling such incredible loss that bile rose in his throat.
"Shit," he muttered.
When he turned around, he saw Sebastian leaning against the door in a robe, holding a steaming cup of coffee. He'd never looked happier.
* * * *
It would've been so much easier to apologize to Jason if he had a phone or an address. Chris realized how bipolar he'd acted. Maybe it was lack of sleep that had turned him so flaky, or the pressure of being so far from home. Either way, he wished he'd been more circumspect in his treatment of Jason.
Sebastian may have been right about Jason, but Chris didn't know that for himself. He was determined to find out.
His plans were thwarted when he went back to the club where they'd met -- and the place Jason kept his things. Chris was barred from entry by bouncers who were twice his size and wanted to pound him into the ground.
After being threatened within an inch of his life by the bouncers, Chris headed to a quaint Mom 'n Pop coffee shop up the street. Filled with newspapers and magazines, the place was little more than a glorified newsstand, but there was a little table where he could sip his stale coffee. He phoned Sebastian, hoping that meeting on neutral territory would encourage him to fess up to why he hated Jason.
Sebastian settled into the creaky chair across from Chris and sipped his coffee. "Look, Chris, the fact that you called him out and he bolted proves money is all he wanted from you."
"Jason never asked me for money. He said he had something for me."
"He was probably going to show you something he wanted you to buy for him. Or something he stole. You dodged a bullet. I wish you'd see that. Why would he let you hang around if he's not getting anything from you?"
"He didn't bar you from the club, and he's not getting money from you."
Sebastian blushed and hid behind his coffee cup. "Yeah, well. I did give him money before. Maybe he hopes I'll give him more."
"You gave Jason money." Tempted to throw his coffee at Sebastian, Chris set the mug down and knitted his fingers together. "And he didn't fuck you."
"He didn't have to fuck me. I gave him money. I thought I was helping him out. I wasn't trying to get in his pants."
Sebastian averted his eyes to the newspapers on the front counter. Chris remembered how seeing Sebastian affected Jason that morning -- how hurt he'd been.
"You asshole."
"What? I lived with my girlfriend back then. I'm not gay. What use would I have for Jason?"
He addressed his protests to the newspapers rather than Chris. Everything fell into place. Chris felt like a complete idiot.
"Sebastian, why don't you live with your girlfriend anymore?"
"That's personal."
Chris clenched his jaw and glared.
"Well, look. Just remember, I was his mentor. I had to look out for the kid. That was my job." Sebastian dared at glance at Chris, but quickly started talking to the newspapers again. "Anyway, my girlfriend felt my helping him out around the time rent was due was inappropriate."
Chris folded his arms and sat back. "Now, I'm going to ask you a question -- a simple, yes-or-no question -- and you are going to tell me the truth, or I will seriously kick your ass. I'm from Texas. We know how to issue a beat down. Do you understand?"
Sebastian looked Chris over critically.
Chris cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck, loosening up to fight.
"Fine."
"Good." Chris folded his arms. "Now look me in the eyes and tell me the God's honest truth: did Jason ever ask you for money? Did he ever tell you to give him cash?"
Sebastian sucked in his cheeks and looked away.
"No."
* * * *
On the best day, Jason would've been difficult to track. Now that Jason actively avoided him, Chris had few options. He found a shadowy alley in which to hide where neither Jason nor the bouncers could see him. He waited there nightly, watching for Jason.
Once he gave up on the front, he stalked the backdoor, waiting for any sign of blond hair or high heels. There were a few false alarms, but as far as Chris could tell, Jason was enjoying himself inside with no sign of leaving.
Fall gave way to winter, which was when New York's weather turned truly cold. Fashion Week loomed. Chris had spent the day on go-sees, booked by even more designers than he had been for spring and summer. Sebastian said his networking worked and Chris should get back to it.
But Chris was more interested in waiting for Jason to appear. Word from NYU came; he was accepted--on probation--for the spring semester. Getting back in school was worth celebrating, but the accomplishment felt hollow. He couldn't hold onto such an abstract notion of happiness without the right person to share it with.
After another Jason no-show at the club, Chris, shivering from the cold and blowing on his fingers, decided to stop by the newsstand-coffee shop he'd visited with Sebastian.
The shop had undergone some small renovations since he'd last been here. The flowers were gone, and though the counter still held newspapers and magazines, a glass pastry shelf filled with muffins and miniature Bundt cakes was located at the back.
Behind the counter were a very large espresso machine and several cups. The Mom n’ Pop wasn't yet a Starbucks; it still had the homegrown feel no free wireless and bland jazz musical selections could ever touch. The blond barista shined the brass knobs on the machine, his back to Chris. When Chris cleared his throat, the blond turned and dropped his rag.
Now that Chris got a look at him, he noticed the barista didn’t wear pants. Instead, he wore a white oxford with a garter belt with l
ong black fishnet stockings. His apron was fabulously embroidered with crystals and lace. And, of course, on his face was the ubiquitous dark eyeliner and ruby lipstick.
"Jason!"
"You must be cold, hanging outside of that club like a vagabond." After his initial shock, Jason seemed to take Chris's arrival in stride. He set a steaming cup of coffee on the counter and pulled his shirt cuff chastely over his wrist.
"You knew I was out there?" Chris took the coffee, still in shock.
"You're hardly a ninja, Chris. Everyone knew you were out there."
Jason poured himself a cup and leaned against the counter.
"And you just let me do it?"
A smile tugged at Jason's lips. "Obviously."
"But why?"
"Because you deserved it." The cuff on his right sleeve slipped down again, and he tugged it back into place, frowning.
"So that's it? One day of lousy judgment and I'm out?" Chris finished his cup and set it on the counter.
Jason refilled it. "Pretty much."
"That's fucked up." Chris ignored the coffee.
"What? Me? Fucked up? That should hardly be a surprise to you. You're the one who pointed out to me how fucked up I was. With your front row center seat to my one-man freak show, I can't believe you're surprised."
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? You're right. I let Sebastian get to me and it was stupid. I want to start over."
Jason snapped on a pair of latex gloves and slid open the glass doors of the pastry shelf. He looked over the baked goods and chose a chocolate chip cookie, then placed it on the counter atop a piece of wax paper.
"Too bad. But here, you can have a cookie."
Chris grabbed Jason's right hand before he could withdraw it. Jason yelped, but Chris refused to let go.
"Please, Jason. Listen to me. You don't understand. You're the only thing in this stupid city I care about. Do you think I stood out in front of the club every night because I'm stubborn? I want another chance with you. I didn't realize… I didn't understand how stupid I was being.
"I'm probably being stupid now, probably ruining things with you like this, but I have to let you know that everything I'm doing -- everything I've done since that night -- has meant nothing to me. You're the only real thing here, and if I can't have you, I might as well go back home."