by Rodd Clark
IT WAS Christian who broke the stalemate and walked past Gabriel to open his door.
“Hello there,” she said. It was a petite girl in her mid-twenties, pretty and sweet and smiling that counterfeit, cheerleader smile. Christian returned her affection with his own grin, but his mind was already playing over everything from her appearance to how that tiny girl knew Gabriel, or whether she was someone selling crap door to door.
“Hi there, can I help you?”
“Sorry to bother you but . . .” and just in that instant, she noticed Gabriel standing farther inside the room barely hidden by the shadows. She brushed past Christian with a cool and casual confidence. Her gaze was trained on the man in her path. She seemed to disregard all other details as she entered the apartment with a flourish and slid across the floor. Particularly the man she’d bounded past.
Still standing at the door dumbfounded, Christian was left to ponder how discourteous the woman seemed, immediately thinking he didn’t care too much for her.
MUCH TO Gabe’s chagrin, the woman accidently saved them all from additional mortification. If she’d simply asked for Chris Rumsfeld, there would have been quite a few long minutes of confusion, leading to pain and embarrassment. But for Gabe, even though he wasn’t happy to see Shea standing there, he’d been grateful that she had kept her mouth closed and left one lie unrevealed.
“Well, there you are, baby. I hope I’m not intruding. I saw you come home from across our courtyard and wanted to say hello, since I missed you this morning.”
Taking the lead, Gabe moved to Shea and grabbed her at the waist. “Shea, honey, this is Maxwell, he’s a good friend of mine . . . Go ahead, Maxwell, say hello to Shea.”
It seemed the sanest move at the time, even though it wasn’t. Gabe wanted to prevent his female companion from saying the name Chris Rumsfeld, thinking he could maintain some distance and privacy. He failed to plan well, since neither party was privy to his intention.
When Gabe introduced Chris as Maxwell, he was trying to hide a lie that he couldn’t explain. He was hoping that the writer would pick up on his meaning, but Chris was only focused on one new bit of data—the woman who Gabe was fucking was now standing a mere three feet away. It was an awkward moment, made worse when Shea embraced Gabe. She had to stand on her tiptoes, but she gave him a light kiss on the cheek and sealed Chris’s amazement like a vacuum closing around a mason jar of preserves.
CHRISTIAN WAS clever, he caught the veiled inference that the two lived in the same complex, and the air that was breezing over conveyed the two were closer than he could have guessed. They were lovers! But that couldn’t be true. He would have known if Gabe had someone else in his bed . . . wouldn’t he?
Christian could only close the door with a slight degree of shock. He recognized whatever was about to happen between the three of them needed to occur behind a closed door.
“I’m sorry . . . didn’t mean to break up the party. I just wanted to stop by and say hello.”
Shea was still clinging to Gabriel like some lost love, making the writer fume with hidden anger. Somewhere a line had been drawn in the proverbial sand. This tiny alien creature, with her awful feminine ways, had slipped into the room and was marking her territory without even knowing the circumstances of their introduction. Christian loathed her, this woman confiscating his man with her embrace, implying a secret to an affair that he couldn’t even begin to disassemble in his mind.
“Hello, Shea. Maxwell, Maxwell Grant,” he said as he bridged the gap between them with an extended hand. Shea shook his grip lightly, and they both smiled engagingly. But under the mask Christian was seething inside. He had been placed in an untenable situation, not knowing why he was forced to use an alias with someone he didn’t even know. His grin belied his emotional rage, but Gabriel could see it, he knew that he could. All of those nights curled up in his arms had given him some knowledge of how the man operated, and likewise, he could see that it wasn’t lost on Gabriel who recognized the smoke rising in his lover’s eyes.
“Your friend was just showing me his place—never been here before. It’s nice. You live here too, I gather?”
“Just across the way, number 180 . . . it’s how I met Chris here.”
He could see the word “fuck” plastered over Gabe’s expression as he stood behind Shea so even she couldn’t see his head slung down in shame like a little boy who’d been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. More like the pie, thought Christian. He offered a smug face that told his lover there would be no easy escape on the horizon. Not if he could help it.
“Well Chris here and I go way back,” Christian said, smiling over obscured jealous anger, bitterness covering his tongue like gold plating. “So how long have you known Chris?” he asked casually, tasting more acrid venom and praying the room would explode and burn this tiny bitch into cinder and ash.
“Actually, we just met,” she said. “I’m an artist, and Chris here is my muse, I suppose . . . I gave him a sketch not too long ago, and I guess after that . . . as they say anyways, that was all it took.”
What a cunt she must be, he thought. She failed to mention that this couldn’t have happened earlier than the other evening, but she was trying to make it sound as if they’d been lovers for much longer, which really pissed him off. Her implication that they were even lovers, not just two strangers who’d hooked up once, made him want to slap her face and throw her on her pretty ass outside.
“So how do you know Chris? You guys work together?” she asked. The woman was beyond stupid, thought Christian. She was a vapid girl trying to be something she wasn’t. She practically stank of the effort, and the uncomfortable way she tried to maneuver into social graces seemed to scream “small town girl with a pastor for a father.”
“Actually, we are doing some work together. As a matter of fact, we were going to head to do that before you knocked, but I suppose we could do it later if you two would rather call it a day,” Christian said politely as he brushed past Gabriel and headed for the door. He knew he’d be stopped before the knob could turn even slightly. He’d laid the train tracks before his lover’s feet; it was up to him to jump aboard.
“No, Max. I think I need to head out with you and take a look at it . . . before it gets dark . . .” turning toward Shea, Gabriel grabbed her hands in his. “Let’s try again later, baby. I gotta do some stuff with Maxwell, and we’re burning daylight . . . till later.”
Another important second passed as Gabriel’s eyes implored some reaction from his female concubine, leaving the writer perplexed and somewhat stranded in the moment. He began to wonder, What the hell am I doing anyway? He was acting like they were lovers and not the fuck buddies he knew them to be. He was trying to keep sensible about it, but he was falling into some trap of convenience. This was not him. What the hell did he care whether she went bat shit crazy if she assumed Gabriel was leaving with his real lover? He told himself it was his life Gabriel was hiding, not his lifestyle. Gabriel had learned long ago to stay under the radar, to hide rather than be noticed. He was a serial killer by vocation and slipping through the latticework of life unseen was how he survived. Christian told himself again, he was simply keeping up an act for appearance, so Shea didn’t freak out and draw unwanted attention. However, it was still a fucked-up situation.
Without waiting for a reply, Gabriel hustled the two of them from his apartment as he locked the door behind them. Christian for one was grateful the bitch hadn’t asked what type of work he did. This awkward subterfuge had already been far too exhausting. For the moment all he wanted to do was escape. He wanted to get Gabriel alone and have him explain. But he was emotional at times, he knew overtly so; he also feared what outcome he’d find. It didn’t bode well.
Walking far ahead of Gabriel, Christian was racing to get anywhere but the spot he’d been standing just seconds earlier. He was in shock at the thought of all of it. It was ludicrous he knew; after all, he’d only known Gabriel Church a short time
. Not to mention he was an admitted serial killer. Oh, did I forget to mention that? He was someone he didn’t rightly know, and they hadn’t been joined at the hip by ceremonial vows. How the fuck could he be so jealous of someone like that? he wondered.
Finding out your boyfriend was fucking a woman on the side might happen to a lot of people, but he never suspected it would happen to him. He stormed down the street after bowing out of the conversation with Shea and Gabriel, who was known to the bitch by the name Chris, as if he hadn’t had enough shockers today. Was that Gabriel’s way of sticking a jagged finger in the air, a salutatory “Fuck you, Christian Maxwell!”
For him it was like walking in on the two while they were doing it. It was humiliating and made him question everything he knew about Church. They had bumped uglies themselves just that morning, and that Shea girl made it sound like they too had been intimate recently. Was he really fucking one willing partner, then driving across town for another roll in the hay?
GABE SPRINTED up to catch Chris, having taken the time to get Shea headed back across the courtyard. He would have to deal with her later too, he knew, but right now he was worried about what Chris was thinking.
“Babe. Wait . . . please!” Even as he called out he knew what had to be going through his lover’s mind. Shea had done a bang-up job of possibly ending his relationship, and just because of a twenty-minute fuck of nonsensical proportion. It certainly would’ve stung less if she had meant something to him, or at least been nominal in bed. But to lose Chris over this would be a tragedy. Running up beside him and spinning him around, he tried to get the man to stare back into his eyes. He understood the base of his power over Christian originated from his eyes. Chris had all but admitted that one night in bed, so he was left with trying that ploy again. He’d hoped the look, his pained expression, something, might get Chris to stop and give him a minute to explain. But he could feel the pony was tensing to bolt, and he worried he might not get the chance to say how sorry he felt.
“Stop, asshole. Give me an opportunity to talk to you about it before you turn your pretty butt and walk away.”
“Talk? What the hell do we have to talk about? You didn’t fuck up, I did. It seems all my realities were hinged on the wrong main character. Now all I have to do is rewrite my ending.”
“Goddamn, you’re quite the drama queen, aren’t you?”
Gabe understood the situation was tenuous, but in his imagination he was smiling, he had predicted how Chris would take it and by heavens he was right on the money. “I fucked her, yes, but only once and just for kicks. I didn’t know the bitch was crazy and thinking we were all dating and shit!”
“Why did you fuck her at all?” Christian’s credulous nature came erupting out like a volcano full of lava. He couldn’t conceive why Gabe had cheated on him, with her of all things, and his expression was a painstaking exhibition of that. The bigger man could only stare back in silence. He could say the words, but even if everything in his head played out, he didn’t think Christian could even begin to comprehend. They were, after all, entirely different creatures. But the words had to come out. As each one did, it was laced with shame, dripping like heavy syrup from his tongue.
“I don’t know, because she offered . . . it was there . . . what the fuck you want me to say. I got a cock. I like using it. You should know that better than anyone else.”
“Not better than her, I’ll bet!” Christian said with a humph as he turned and yanked free of Gabe’s grasp.
“Don’t be such a little bitch, Christian,” Gabe called too loudly in his direction. “Give me a friggin break, why don’t ya?”
It was useless. He’d screwed up their near-perfect day with one more tangled fight, and although he hadn’t started it, he was complicit by just bringing his boy toy home to see the digs. He stood there in the waning light of day, scratching his head, a true caricature of dumb confusion. It seemed every time the two men got together, one was storming off in a huff and leaving the other holding his dick in the middle of a street. If this was how it was supposed to be with a dude, he’d rather go back to cunts.
This was an overplayed scene, he thought. Done that, got the T-shirt! If they couldn’t make it through two full days without fighting in some heart-wrenching, dramatic, gay-boy fashion, then they had no future to speak of.
Chapter Twenty-eight
CHRISTIAN LOWERED HIS head in concentration as he headed down the sidewalk away from Church’s complex and the love nest he’d shared with Shea. He didn’t know where he was headed, but it didn’t matter, as long as it was away from here.
It would be a long walk back to his condo, but his anger and frustration would carry him like one of the city’s many ferries. Christian’s pace had purpose. Every footfall gave him proof he was walking away from Gabriel and his disloyal, wandering cock. He’d never had anyone be unfaithful to him, and he was angry he’d allowed it to be Church—a sociopathic killer of the innocent. In that second, when the girl had breezed past him and headed into Gabriel’s arms, he’d felt bile rising from his stomach and wetting his tongue. The flash of realization of Gabriel’s betrayal was something he wouldn’t forget. A stupid “deer in the headlights” look on his face, and the budding shame of knowing he’d been caught. Why the fuck did he take me to his place if there was a risk this could happen . . . that he’d be found out? It didn’t make any sense.
The roar of traffic passed him, but he was so lost in his own head everything was dancing like shadows just outside his vision. He was furious, and there were just too many questions racing in his mind. Why her? What did she have that enticed Gabe to spend time with her? He’d seen Shea, she was cute, somewhat pretty, but beyond that she had nothing special about her.
Where was that fucking light he was so fond of talking about? Why hadn’t it surrounded her? She was a cunt, a tiny thing who expected Church would want her because she had a pussy, and we all know how that controls the world. But Gabriel was his now, or at least, he’d thought he was. He’d decided which path of his sexuality he’d take, and Christian had won the prize. But it was truly fucked up knowing that he’d been wrong, that he hadn’t triumphed. He didn’t have Gabriel, and it was clear he’d never have a firm hold over him. They would never be more than just friends, fuck buddies, acquaintances who messed around for want of anything else.
With all the anger filling his gut and that bile in his mouth still a fresh memory, he thought if he headed back to his place he’d only go stir crazy. He needed to go somewhere to clear his head, somewhere Gabriel wouldn’t show up unannounced like some shamed puppy that piddled on the floor. Then he remembered a small detail Shea had said.
“Just across the way, number 180.” That’s what she’d said. It was how they’d had the chance to meet in the first place. If he stormed off, he’d leave the man in her convenient tentacles. In his frustration, Gabriel might just wander over to her place and crawl naked into her bed. The image of that possibility shook Christian to his core. She could get her icy grip around him and hold tight, and Gabriel might be lost to him forever, all because of her proximity and feminine guiles.
That will just not do, Christian thought. It was clear what he needed to do.
Turning back, he glanced in all directions, a secretive act to ensure he wasn’t being followed. He knew Gabriel wouldn’t run after him, not that far. It wasn’t his style. They had done this play before, and it always ended the same way. Someone would calm down, someone would apologize, and then like rats in a maze they would follow the same routes that had gotten them to that particular dead-end wall. Neither of them seemed to learn much from the experience. They just seemed fated to reenact the same arguments over and over.
But in his heart he knew Gabriel was his and his alone. Christian Maxwell had dated in college, and he’d fucked on occasion, but never in his thirty-four years had he ever allowed himself to open up as he did with Gabriel. He’d been ensnared at first glance; he just hadn’t known it at the time. He had
become another’s plaything, subjected to their whims, his body laid bare for exploration. And how could he not? After staring upwards at those penetrating, steely eyes, seeing a perfection he’d never known existed before that. Even after learning what drove the man, his sickness of reason and his dangerous past, it had not altered his feelings about him. It went against the grain about everything Christian knew to be true about him . . . and had taken all he understood and broken it apart . . . just so it could be reassembled into something new and strange to look upon.
Even as angry as he was, he was already seeing past the pain, shaping the man back into fusible parts and fashioning him into a man he might forgive. This must be what it’s like, he thought, to love someone beyond a better reason. To know no matter how hard the fight, there is always a picture of them standing side by side. For someone like Christian, who’d never been the type to reach out and hold someone or fear their absence, this was as new and alien a sensation as he’d ever known. But it solidified in his mind what he’d do next. The thing that would leave a stain on his affection for Gabriel but finally end his dalliance with Shea.
The sounds of distant ferry horns rang in his ears. The only other noise was nesting birds in the courtyard and music playing too loudly from one of the other units near Shea’s apartment. Christian wondered what types of people rented here in the dirtier part of town, thinking it must be artists and minimum wage workers. They all had to be young and fresh, starting their lives. Why else would you claim residence in such a rundown place?
He was trying to creep unnoticed, yet still not appear like a cat burglar casing the joint. One thing he didn’t want was to bump into Gabriel, who might be heading out to locate him; that would be awkward. He wanted to reach number 180 and knock on the door lightly, but he wasn’t sure what he might find there. He hoped Shea would be there . . . but not Gabriel. If she answered the door with that fresh fucked look of mussed hair and smeared makeup, he would simply crawl into a ball and evaporate into nothingness. He didn’t want a jealous confrontation with Gabriel, and he was really hoping that Shea would be there by herself, that she might invite him in so he could find out details of their encounter together. It was a sickness, he knew, but he needed to understand what appeal she had, what hold she’d manipulated to get his man into her bed. For heaven’s sake, she probably didn’t even suspect Gabriel was bi. And that thought reminded him that he’d have to refer to Gabriel by the name she knew him as, and ironically it was his.