by Talon p. s.
Maxum mentally added putz under the words alone and failure on his self-loathing chalkboard list and left.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
It was a Sunday but that didn’t matter in Tokyo. Only Americans think weekend is time for no work. Mr. Hasamoto had often been heard to say of US businessmen, but so far had never said it to Maxum. He sat in his office after getting off the conference call, realizing he’d yet heard from Dane. It was nearly two. The man would have been up now.
His new barely out of the box phone on his desk where the old one used to sit buzzed with the call from the front desk. “What is it, Lee?” Lee being his weekend assistant and intern who over saw most of the quiet operations. If something came up with a client, usually one of the overseas ones, and it was more than the average to-do, Lee knew to call him or one of his employed men if needed. After all, they were Americans and Maxum didn’t force his staff to work seven days a week. Lee was a godsend in the sense too. A graduate student working towards his Masters in Global Marketing, who had so many classes crunched into his semesters, he didn’t have time for a nine to five office job. And so few financial firms came with weekend schedules that paid well. Maxum needed more than a gopher in the office so the arrangement worked well for them both, and to show his appreciation Maxum sponsored most of Lee’s student fees and his tuition. However, it came with a four-year contract of employment too. As Maxum always said, he invested in the long term, and he knew when he had a good thing in front of him. Except perhaps when it came to Darko Laszkovi. Darko spun him about and made him all sensation and emotions until he couldn’t think straight at all. Maxum was so predetermined to invest in the long run, it made enjoying the short term bliss he had with Darko complicated and painful.
“You received a call from Vince Masters while you were on conference. He seemed upset. Something about his brother going after him? Do you know what he was referring to?”
“Shit. When?”
“About a half hour ago.”
Damn. It’d take Dane about an hour to reach Darko’s shop from his house out at the Hamptons, that gave Maxum only thirty minutes to intercept. “Cancel the rest of my day.” Maxum knew the motorcycle shop stayed open over the weekend then was closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, so that’s where he headed. He only hoped that’s where he would find Darko before Dane could.
Twenty-three minutes and a hand full of seconds later, Maxum pulled into the parking lot of Darko’s motorcycle shop. Dane’s Audi was already pulled up to the front glass windows of the shop. The driver’s side door left wide open. Maxum could hear the heated conflict going on inside when he turned the car off and quickly jumped out to get in there before it got worse.
“I wanna know why the hell my brother was seen leaving the wine cellars last night while crying his eyes out, then wound up in the ER and won’t tell me a god damn thing about what took place!” Dane Masters’ tempered bellowed off the walls like thunder.
“Nobody hurt Vida. I swear it.” There was a pause followed by some fast explaining. “I got into an altercation with someone else an—” And that was it. Maxum rounded the front counter of the shop just in time to see Dane’s fist come flying at Darko, knocking him back into one of the bikes he’d apparently been working on, and he and the machine went crashing to the floor.
“Dane!” Maxum ran up, but it was too late. Darko was out cold on the floor.
“What the hell are you doing here? Was it you?” Dane lurched towards him. “You, I can fire! Though it won’t do much good. I can’t afford to buy you out!” Dane spat at Maxum. Flames cooking in the man’s eyes like he was sucked-up into some peripheral war zone hallucination.
“Dane! Calm yourself!” Maxum bellowed back at him. His own focus flickering to his lover on the floor still not moving.
“I don’t want to be calm! I want to know what happened to Vince last night!”
“Darko and I got into an argument. I accused him of being more involved with Vince then he is. In the defense of Vince’s honor, Vince was inadvertently hurt by it.”
Dane eased back on his heels reining himself back in and took a deep breath to Maxum’s relief. Obviously, Darko hadn’t exaggerated about trusting the two of them would never wind up in bed together. “What the hell were you two arguing about?”
Maxum was next to take a long deep breath. Running his fingers into his hair as he glanced down at the unconscious body that still managed to arouse him somehow.
“Start talking or I start punching again.” Dane warned.
Maxum’s gaze flicked to the other men in the shop hovering nearby like they wanted to come to the aid of their co-worker, but smart enough to stay clear from the Titans involved. “Darko and I have been having an affair. And last night he discovered Simeon and Simeon discovered Darko.”
“Fucking great. An affair. That doesn’t explain why those two ended up at ER.” Dane’s hand waved back to the body on the floor.
Maxum glanced back down at Darko’s right hand sporting the black arm brace and his fingers taped to a splint. “What happened to Vince?” He asked the only question he figured Dane would care to answer right now.
“Three stitches above the left eye. I had to yank them out and glue the cut shut so he didn’t have a permanent scar. Fucking idiot doctors!”
“I’m sorry Dane. I don’t know how that happened, but I’ll take a wild guess and say a bathroom stall door had been involved.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Darko felt the piercing pain long before he even thought to open his eyes. Damn his head hurt, but— oh yeah— Dane was punching him. He jumped with a start.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa there. Easy now. The match is over. Just sit tight.” A familiar voice spoke while a warm hand settled over his shoulder easing him back to the sofa. There was a flash of white light that hit him when Darko opened his eyes, dimmed and there in its place was Maxum, sitting at his side. His face drawn up as if he was actually concerned over something.
Darko reached up his hand searching until he found the weight holding him down and brushed Maxum’s hand from his shoulder, feeling the flood of his own pain and anger coming. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Maxum took a deep breath just contemplating him, “I tried to beat Dane to the draw. Guess I had the wrong car with me today.” He tried joking, to make light of the circumstances, still pressing the cold compress to Darko’s cheek.
Darko wasn’t taking the bait or letting go of his emotions so willingly. He shoved Maxum’s hands from him, grabbed the wet washcloth, and tossed it across the room.
“You should leave it. You took a quiet a punch.” Maxum mildly scolded him for the defiance.
“Yeah, well, there’s still plenty more to come when Pyotr finds out I can’t practice for two months. It was only fake-luck I got out of the ER before Pavle discovered I was there.” Darko grumbled. Though Maxum wasn’t sure how Darko’s brother Pavle played out in all this, he figured right now probably wasn’t the best time to ask.
Darko brought his arms up crossing them over his eyes and just lay there silently fuming— and beating back tears as he retreated mentally from the man sitting on the edge of the beat up shop-sofa next to him.
Maxum could only think to offer whatever request Darko might ask of him, and the remorse he felt rang out in every word. “Is there something, anything I can do?”
“Yeah— get the fuck out.” The words spilled before Darko could second-guess them. But there was no taking them back and it was probably best when the man didn’t refute him. He peeked out from under his arms and watched as Maxum got up. Even in the dim light from just the small desk lamp in his office, he could make out the man’s body inside the tailored slacks, and crisp clean shirt. No jacket hiding his perfect ass this time. That was odd. Maxum never stepped out without his jacket. Must’ah been in a hurry to get somewhere. And that’s when he felt the punch to his chest and the sting of tears threaten his eyes further.
Shit.
&n
bsp; Maxum stepped out, closing the door behind him. He stalled, his hand still holding the door handle. Just hovering there a moment. He knew he wasn’t welcome and he had been ordered to go, but he couldn’t bring his feet to obey and take him away.
He heard Darko moving inside the office, followed by his forlorn voice.
“Zdravo. It’s me Darko. I was just calling to check— hey you’re up—” Maxum heard Darko’s caring voice from inside. “No, no. I’m good. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Darko’d obviously called Vince. Maxum could tell, because Darko spoke to Vince the same way everyone else did. Overly nurturing. Like a big brother.
What’da ya say we go out tonight? Say dinner and a movie, my treat.” There was a pause, “Yeah— talking would be great.”
Maxum finally forced himself to step away. He had no right to feel jealous or lay claim. Darko had made it clear, if he wanted Darko all for himself, he had to keep him, and Maxum hadn’t done that because he already let someone else get in the way. Darko had every right to move on.
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CHAPTER TEN
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Darko had given up on hearing from Maxum; phone calls he never made that would have gone unanswered even if he had. He’d thought for sure their weekend together at his brother’s had gone well. It was necessary from his view of it, the attraction they shared was so searing hot they needed some kind of grounding, just to prove that even an intense attraction like theirs could be serious. That they could in fact share a real relationship not just an affair of excessive fucking for a flighty moment. For all that, not even the sex had happened between them since their weekend together. Nothing more than the possible chance he saw him at Club Pain then the run-in at the Wine Cellars Christmas Event that didn’t go over so well. The three fingers of his right hand still taped and splinted were a reminder of that night. He’d since tossed the arm brace so he could at least start working out again.
He sat at the bar, picking at the label on his ale. It’d been weeks since he’d heard from Maxum, not that he should after telling him to get out of his office with a tone that sounded more like fuck off. His attention drifted to his friends as the laughter kicked up a notch over the pool tables. It’d been just as long since he’d let the guys from the rowing team talk him into going out, but being here didn’t make him a part of the evening. Now, just days after another Christmas— alone— he just wasn’t into it. Even now as he sat in the saloon filled to the brim, bulging with young hot studs that would willingly jump in his bed with little more than a wink on his part to pique their interest. Darko had already ruled them all out, not one stirred his lust like the powerful man he’d spent numerous afternoons and nights fantasizing of having under him all over again.
He dropped the empty bottle on the bar and right on queue, another pushed in front of him. He took a long swig letting the dark chocolaty malt tones of the brew slide down his throat. Thinking how one man’s kiss would taste of potent scotch or of a dark nutty sherry against his palate. Potent dark flavors, fancy food, fast machines and strong men. Just naming a few of their compatibilities.
“Heyyyyy— I know how to get your freak swinging again.” A drunk slur and a warm arm reached over to wrap around his shoulders from behind.
Darko grabbed the hand that tried to slip in his shirt and unlaced it from around his neck and placed it with a firm hold on the bar, “Not tonight Josh. I’m not in the mood.” The man he’d called Josh sloshed his lean body into the bar stool next to him.
Drunk eyes trying to focus in on him, “Since when are you not in the mood? I’ve heard stories about you.”
“Ya, well, you know what they say about stories—”
“Uh-huh, they’re great in bed.” Josh jeered and leaned in, his arms attempting to take make a move on Darko once again.
Darko’s hand went up slapping flat against Josh’s chest, stopping any further approach. He flinched from the pinch of pain caused by the splints pressing his fingers back. One more fucking reminder— he shook his head and pushed up from the bar, heading for the back pool tables. “Bralick how ‘bout you keep your slut to yourself tonight?” He barked at his teammate, as he passed by him.
“You can have him if it’ll put you in better spirits.” Bralick groped his crotch in his direction with a pump of his hips. Taunting him as if that would do anything for his attitude. It didn’t.
“Shit man, you know Darko don’t go for that kind.” Hemi became defensive, stepping around the pool table and headed for Darko. The New Zealander’s dark skinned arm slipping around Darko’s waist with a smooth brush of his fingers and swung around to offer his own body’s contact for his pleasure. “Come with me sugar, I’ll make you feel right again.”
Darko let the New Zealander lure him back towards the pay phones that no longer served any function other than a dark corner for necking. He and Hemi had fucked a number of times out of nothing more then familiarity, but there had never been any chemistry between them. For as big a brute as Hemi was, along with his savage warrior looks he was too soft, too passive in bed. No fire to get the engines really revving and it wasn’t enough to want to be anything more with each other. At least not for him. Hemi on the other hand had offered to be a number with him despite what was lacking. Only Darko didn’t see the point in claiming any kind of a commitment with someone he only saw as a friend with benefits. Yet for the moment, here and now, he allowed the man’s approaching offer, hoping maybe those benefits would do him some good and break him from his funk.
He leaned back against the wood paneling offering up his neck for the man, letting the tattooed Maori have free rein with him. His position mechanical without any personal input letting Hemi do the work while he drank his ale.
One of them had to help.
Hemi’s hand dropped over his crotch, palming against his package, gently trying to bring him to erection with the heavy friction of his palm against the denim of his jeans. “Come on baby, you know I give good sugar, but you gotta want it.” Hemi pressed in, his hand trying to work him up, but Darko’s body was just as reluctant to step up to the plate to be played with by the man as his emotions were. Darko turned his head and closed his eyes, maybe if he just visualized the man he did want rubbing up against him? Then maybe he could trick his dick into becoming hard. He tipped his head back emptying the last of his beer in one long chain of endless swallows and still— nothing.
A shuffle out in the bar and the crash of a falling chair shocked Darko from his thoughts, his eyes popped open to see a man rushing for the front door. Odd how the man kind of looked like Maxum from the back, down to the details of the navy wool peacoat he often wore.
Okay enough was enough. His body wasn’t into Hemi tonight, neither was his head. Now he was fooling himself into thinking he was seeing the man that did stir him, but didn't want him in return.
Fuck this.
“Hemi.” He pushed his friend off, giving him a reluctant shake of his head, “It's just not gonna work tonight.”
Hemi’s arms tried to sweep around him again, but Darko just pushed him off. That was the thing with Hemi, the one of many things severely lacking for Darko, the man was too much a last lover. No fire, no octane. He was vanilla without the bean spice. Yet a good friend. Darko caressed the man’s cheek with his palm a moment then slipped past him, “I’ll see you guys at practice.” He grabbed his coat and slung it on as he headed out.
The New York cold slapped his face as soon as he stepped out. Somehow or another he figured he deserved it, some self suffering or shit, but damned if he knew why. He had done all he could to do right by Maxum. Octane. Never mind too much octane, there was too much NOS. Not that he was complaining. He was loving every drop of it, but how do you convince a man you can still have a real and deeply committed relationship while burning bright like that? He obviously failed that attempt and now he was stuck trying to cope with accepting his life would hav
e to settle for something far more mediocre. Having glimpsed and tasted what he wanted now— that idea sucked.
He turned and headed down the sidewalk, grateful to have the long walk ahead of him. The ice on the roads forced him to leave the bike at home, that and he had fully intended to drink Maxum off his brain. Not sure, what happened to that plan, but he obviously failed that one too.
Darko didn’t even glance over his shoulder when the car cruised up, rolling just a wheel width behind him and revved its engine a bit.
“Get in.” A man called from the vehicle.
“Get lost! Hookers are around back.” He turned to shoot the driver a hard stare but froze in his tracks. There weren’t too many men driving around in Pagani Zonda Roadsters in this city and certainly only one would dare be caught in front of a gay bar. Now Darko was more than just annoyed, he was livid on a number of levels.
He stepped up to the car, dropped his hands on the door rim and bent down to peer in through the rolled down passenger window, “You can especially fuck off!”
“I didn’t ask. Now get in.” Maxum growled out with an equal amount of frustration and anger.
“I’m not some cheap fuck you can just snatch up when your other lover fails to get your nuts off. Go blow another ten grand, maybe the fairy will put out this time. You can surely afford it. I’m not for sale.” Darko shoved off the car and stomped down the sidewalk at a fast pace.
The high-end rocket car lurched forward with a whiny, high-pitched rev then idled down as it rolled beside him. “Get in before the police come patrolling by and really think I’m cruising for ass!”
“Aren’t you? Go home Maxum. I’m not the man for you. You said so yourself, remember?”