Three Player Game

by Jaime Samms

  “You can tell him what you want. He and I are solid. I won’t get between you and him.”

  “But—”

  “He deserves to hear this from you, Lee. You don’t want me to take over your life? I won’t. But that means you own this, and you talk to Pete yourself.”

  He walked out then. He didn’t stop to close the door behind him, though. That would be one step too far. He was nearly at the stairs when he heard it click shut. Crashing through the door into the stairwell, he tripped and fumbled halfway down before he had to tell himself to stop before he fell and got hurt. As if mocking him, a dent in the drywall on the next landing made him think maybe someone hadn’t heeded that same inner advice.

  By the time he made it to the car, he was calm enough to drive, but he didn’t go back to the office. He headed home to strip beds and wash sheets and find something among Pete’s frozen offerings that wasn’t portioned into dinner for two.

  Pete hadn’t thought directing a bunch of actors to say lines from the point of view of characters they already knew intimately would be so hard. He’d sent Vince an email halfway through the first day detailing all his woes, and Vince had gamely replied with all the right buzz words that had talked Pete off his cliff. Vince had finished with an admonition to not worry about calling every night if he was too tired. They would see him when he got home, and it would be fine.

  Pete believed him. He hoped it was a sign that Vince and Lee were busy in their own way and didn’t want to be interrupted. Lee’s texts were more terse, but that didn’t surprise Pete. Lee wasn’t a chatty guy at the best of times. By Thursday evening, though, Pete was ready for a familiar voice and maybe some long-distance pillow talk. If he couldn’t be there with them, maybe he could at least listen vicariously.

  He waited until after nine, when he figured they would have eaten and showered and be heading to bed, before he called the house.

  “Hey.” There was a smile in Vince’s voice. It sounded a little worn though.

  “Is he wearing you out?” he teased.

  The pause was too long.

  “Vince?”

  “Nah. Just. Been one of those days. Had to do some overtime.”

  “Don’t let Blaire work you too hard.”

  “No, it’s fine. Nothing left for me to do until tomorrow, now.”

  Pete snickered. “Good. You can concentrate on Lee, then.”

  “Sure.”

  “Can I talk to him?”

  “He’s . . . showering, actually. I’ll tell him to call you when he gets out?”

  Pete frowned. Since when did Vince make excuses for anyone? “Vince?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Put him on the phone.”

  “Pete, seriously, he’s showering.”

  “You have never lied to me, Vincent Ascott.”

  “Well.” Vince sighed. He sounded so defeated. “He could be in the shower.”

  “But you don’t know because he isn’t there.”

  The silence was answer enough.

  “When did he leave?”

  Nothing.

  “The fucking bedsheets were still warm I bet.” Lee was a prick. He shouldn’t rate this much angst from Pete. But Vince was hurting. Vince had lied to him for the first time in their history, and Pete knew why he did. He was protecting Lee.

  “You don’t have to lie for him. If he doesn’t want us, that’s his loss.” But it stabbed a little bit through his heart to hear the hitch in Vince’s words.

  “I told him he had to tell you.”

  “That’s fair. Why did he leave?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He’s scared.”

  “Maybe.”

  There was quiet on the line between them for a long time. “Babe?”

  “Yeah?” Vince’s voice was more than cracked now. It bled pain and Pete hated that he couldn’t be there.

  “Babe?” Pete drew in a breath, bracing himself. He didn’t call Vince out. He trusted Vince to know what to do in these situations. But sometimes, Vince got in his own way, unable to see his own heart. “You want to let him go?”

  Vince pulled in a wet breath.

  “If he leaves and breaks your heart, I will crush his balls.”

  “Heh.” It was a paltry sound, but it was something. “That optimism,” Vince whispered. “I love that about you.”

  “When he comes in to work tomorrow, you tell him he’s going home with you, and don’t give him a choice.”

  “Baby, I think it has to be his choice.”

  “So talk to him. Find out how to change his mind. Nothing says the choice he made yesterday is the same choice he has to make tomorrow. Something—someone—hurt him, but that was before. We are his now. Or we could be if he lets us. Maybe if he knows he’s safe to take this at his own pace, he’ll come back.”

  “I love you so much,” Vince blurted.

  “I know that.” There was a long pause. “Talk to him?”

  “And say what?”

  “Make sure he knows we’ll wait.”

  “He might decide not to come back, Pete.”

  That caught in Pete’s throat some, but there was nothing he could do from Seattle. “At least give him all the information he needs to make that decision.”

  “All what information?”

  “Babe, I love your dense self so much. You probably told him already that you—or we—want him.”

  “Of course.”

  “And maybe even want to keep him?”

  “Pete.”

  “That we want to take care of him?”

  “If you know all this already, why are we talking about it?”

  “Did you try telling him we care about him?”

  “Well.” Vince let the line go quiet and Pete waited. Nothing.

  Eventually, Pete gave in and helped him along. “He doesn’t want to be kept. He doesn’t need anyone to look after him but himself. He wants someone to love him.” Pete gasped as the words slipped out. Love. Now that’s a big little word.

  “Love.”

  “Maybe. Someday. But we won’t know if we don’t try, will we?” Pete held his breath. More waiting. With that big word suspended between them.

  “You love him?” Vince asked at last.

  “I feel like I could.” Pete shoved at his curls and bit his lip. Too far? Too fast for Vince?

  “Maybe me too,” Vince finally said.

  “Then isn’t that what you should have led with?”

  “Too soon,” Vince replied.

  And maybe it was. But how could Lee know what he was walking away from if they didn’t tell him? And why the hell hadn’t he stuck around long enough to try and find out? What kind of shithead coward ran away before he even tried?

  “Don’t be too mad, babe,” Vince said. “I’m sure he’s trying.”

  “Sure.” Pete wasn’t convinced in the least, though.

  They hung up soon after, and Pete debated calling Lee’s cell. He didn’t think he could talk to him nicely, though, and Lee’s problem seemed to be with Vince, not Pete. Everyone already knew where Pete stood. He called anyway.

  “Hello?” Lee shouted into the phone. He was hard to hear over all the ambient noise in the background. Pete picked out a heavy, thumping rhythm and swore.

  “Are you at a club?”

  “Pete?”

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?” Pete growled. “Go home!”

  The background noise diminished. “Pete?” Lee asked again, out of breath.

  “I just got off the phone with Vince.” Even to himself, Pete sounded cold.

  “So you know, then.”

  “Where are you?”

  Lee said nothing.

  “Who are you with?”

  “Like it’s any business of yours—”

  “Asshole! Why did you take off on Vince?”

  There was an interlude of laughter and Lee said something too muffled for Pete to understand. “Pete, I’ll call you back— No! Idiot. I don’t want
— Stop it!” His voice turned sharp and then the phone was muffled again for a moment.

  “Lee?”

  “Fine,” he said a moment later, breath cutting across their connection in short, heavy gasps. “It’s fine, Pe— Get off!” He sounded more angry this time, and then “No! I said no, now cut it out. I’ll get my own beer.”

  “Is everything all right?” Pete asked, worry rooting in his gut. “Who are you with?”

  “Friends.” The noise diminished and Lee’s voice, slightly ragged, lowered. “It’s fine. They’re jerks, but it’s just dancing.”

  “Sounded kind of— I don’t know. You okay?”

  The pause before Lee said, “Fine,” was too long.

  “Tell me. Please?”

  “No. It’s fine. I can handle it.” He sighed. “They like to party. Not really your business, though.”

  Pete rolled his eyes. “You’re my business. Please be careful.”

  For a long, heart-stopping moment, Lee was silent. “You care?” he asked, though he somehow made it sound accusatory.

  “God, you’re a fucking idiot.”

  Lee’s breath whooshed over the line. “I thought you were the nice one.”

  Pete snorted. “You don’t even know. If Vince knew—”

  “Vince walked away!”

  “He gave you a choice.”

  “Yeah, and I made it.” The loud music came back, like Lee had opened a door or something.

  “There’s no reason you have to keep making the same choice day after day, Lee. That’s on you.” Pete hung up because he didn’t want to hear Lee go back into the club.

  This fucking sucked.

  What other choice was there to make? Vince had been pretty clear about what he wanted. He wanted Lee’s surrender, and Lee wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that anymore. He swung the club door open and stepped inside. The friends he had come with were well on their way to toasted, on a mixture of booze and he didn’t want to know what else.

  He didn’t want to be around them. He didn’t want to be stuck here. But there was no one to call to drive all the way to Port Angeles to get him. He tried to put Vince and Pete out of his head. Tried to have fun. He joined his friends on the dance floor and grinded hips with a few of them, but when someone grabbed his chin and kissed him— No.

  The taste was wrong. The pressure was brutally fierce where Pete was passionate and Vince commanding. This was just taking, and no one took him without permission.

  Lee pushed the guy away, swiping the back of his hand over his lips. It came away with a grainy, sugary substance on it. He jerked back, throat closing around a furious curse.

  “Loosen up!” The guy grinned. “Little goes a long way, baby.”

  “Did you just drug me?”

  “Relax. It’s not enough to do more than make you feel loose. Untie some of those knots, dude.” He winked. “Or maybe let me tie a few.” He ran a finger down the outside of Lee’s wrist.

  “You’re a fucking psycho.” Lee backed away from him. “Don’t ever call me again.” He managed to find his coat but didn’t bother saying good-bye to his buddies. It was unlikely any of them were lucid enough to know what was going on. He should never have trusted them. They had given their word they’d get him back to Bluewater, but he should have known better. How many times had he been forced to grab a hotel because they’d flaked out on him?

  Hands shaking, he pushed his arms into his coat and headed back out into the damp evening. Who was he kidding? It was almost midnight. There was no one to call.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and felt his phone vibrate. He didn’t even look at the caller ID as he answered.

  “Where are you?” Vince sounded furious.

  “He fucking called you?”

  “He ‘fucking called’ because he’s worried.”

  Lee’s stomach flipped over. Vince sounded so cold. Didn’t he care?

  “Where are you?” Vince also sounded tired. Exasperated. Because he was annoyed? Because Pete was upset? Too many questions.

  “Lee. Say something, please. You’re scaring me. Where are you?”

  Lee had been wandering down the street looking for a place that was open. As Vince asked, he found one and glanced at the sign. “Turnip the Beet. Fuck. That’s a weird-ass name.” Things were a little spinny, and he flattened a palm against rough brick. The texture made him pause and rub his hand over it, fascinated by the numbing effect. He was so focused on that, he might have tuned Vince out for a moment.

  “Where?”

  “I—um.” He blinked. He felt fuzzy, but he had before the asshole and the crushed—whatever it had been. He’d had a bit more to drink than maybe he should have. Pushing away from the wall he didn’t remember leaning against, Lee fought the door to the café open and stepped inside.

  “Lee. Focus.”

  “Sorry. Sorry. I . . . think I took—um. Someone slipped me something. It’s fine. I’m fine.” He straightened. “Drunk, though. But I’m fine.”

  “Something?” Vince’s voice changed, filling with power and demand, but underpinned with worry. His usual calm, controlled tones were sharpened around the edges, making the words too brittle. “What sort of something, Lee? Are you alone? Can someone help you?”

  “I’m okay. It was nothing. Mostly, I’m boozed up.” He sniggered. “Martinis. Should know better, huh?”

  “You should know better.” Vince sounded kind, but brusque. “I still need to know where you are.”

  He could hear Vince moving around in the background, caught the clink of keys and the slam of a door. “Front Street,” Lee muttered, because he remembered that much. The club was on Front too, and he didn’t think he’d turned any corners.

  There was a pause. “What. City?”

  Lee sighed. “Port Angeles. Look, it’s fine. I’ll grab a hotel. I can take a cab home in the morn—”

  “Sit your sorry ass down and wait for me.”

  Lee shivered. “You don’t have to—”

  “Lee—”

  “Sitting.” He plopped into a seat and nodded his thanks to the waitress who left him a glass of water and a menu. “Turnip the Beet.” He snickered to her, and she gave him a patient smile.

  “How the hell do you spell that? It isn’t coming up on my GPS.”

  “Turnip. Like the vegetable.”

  “Yeah.” Vince sighed. “That is a weird-ass name.”

  “I hate turnips.”

  “And yet,” Vince said, “thinking this probably serves you right if everything on the menu is turnips.”

  Lee heard the car start. “You shouldn’t talk and drive.”

  “No. I shouldn’t. You stay put. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  Lee nodded, but Vince didn’t hang up. “What?”

  “Half an hour, Lee.”

  “Yeah. I heard you.”

  “Lee. Baby, are you okay?”

  Baby? His heart skipped a beat. That was new and should have chafed. He really was drunk. He pressed two fingers to his temple, and it reminded him of the scalp massage Vince had given him so long ago. Closing his eyes, he laid his forehead in the crook of his elbow on the table. “I’m fine,” he whispered.

  “Drunk.”

  Not a question, but then . . . yeah. It didn’t have to be. It was pretty obvious he was fucked up. “Sorry.”

  “No. Just tell me what happened. Who did you go out with? Are they still there? Looking after you?”

  Lee snorted. “Fuck no.” He sighed heavily. “I drank too much is all.”

  “Lee.” Vince didn’t say anything other than his name. but the way he said it—Lee shivered.

  “One of them tried to slip me something. I don’t think it worked. I feel . . . fuzzy. But it’s normal drunk fuzzy. I think. I’m mostly sure.” He swallowed down half the glass of water. “So far.”

  “Shit. That’s scary as fuck, Lee.”

  “These guys do this shit all the time. They didn’t mean anything by it.”

  �
�They can eat shit as far as I’m concerned. They didn’t look after you.”

  “I’m a grown-up. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, well. Once I’ve got you home safe, we’ll discuss.”

  “Discuss what?” Didn’t that make Lee’s heart jitter? It should terrify him, but Vince’s voice was so low and grainy, so intense, he didn’t hear anything but his promise.

  “What you need to stay safe.”

  Well shit. Lee caught his breath, about to protest he was perfectly capable of keeping his own self safe. Then he watched his buddies trip by in the street, calling out to one another as one of them almost stepped into traffic They didn’t seem to have noticed he wasn’t with them.

  “Yeah.” Maybe Vince had a point.

  But Vince had already hung up.

  There was a good chance Vince broke most of the speed laws between Bluewater Bay and Port Angeles. Thanks to whatever benevolent god Pete had turned to their side with all his meditation and chakra balancing, he didn’t get stopped.

  And there was a parking spot right outside of Turnip the Beet, so he pulled into it and hurried inside. He saw Lee immediately, sitting at a booth, knees up close to his chest and head against the window. His eyes were closed.

  “You Vince?” A waitress stopped him before he got to the booth.

  “What?”

  “He said you were coming for him. What you looked like and what you’d be driving. I’ve been watching for you. He’s kinda dozing after he made himself throw up in the bathroom. I’ve been keepin’ an eye on him.”

  “Thanks.” Vince swept past her and slipped into the booth next to Lee. “Hey.” Reaching over Lee’s knees, he brushed the hair off his face.

  Lee shivered, mumbled his name, and finally opened his eyes. “You came.”

  Vince raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  Lee’s smile was thin.

  “What did they give you?”

  Lee shrugged. “Don’t know. Probably E. But it was just a kiss. Asshole crushed it onto his lips. He’s kind of kinky that way.”

  “No pill?”

  “No pill. And I puked everything up right away. I’m fine.”

  Vince shook his head, trying hard not to glare as he studied Lee. He looked pale and tired. There was sweat on his upper lip and he was curled in on himself like he was cold. “What am I going to do with you?”