Ethan in Gold

by Amy Lane

  Jonah couldn’t even laugh. “Don’t you feel it?” he asked, genuinely needing to know. “He needs someone. He… he thinks that you guys’ll be his family, and that’s all he needs, but… but he needs more, can you feel that?”

  “Us guys?” Tommy said neutrally.

  Jonah was too worried about Ethan to even think uh-oh. “I’m not going to tell anyone,” he said, half-absently. “I’m… it’s none of my business. But….” He paused and smiled and blushed and decided he might as well just be honest. “You, uhm, do fuck like a god, but that’s just, you know, an observation.”

  Tommy’s cackle didn’t sound the least bit ashamed. “One that many people have made in the past,” he said grandly. “But thank you. I figure that if I prove all my brains aren’t in my dick, pretty soon people won’t give a shit, but yeah, it’s a little early for the big reveal, you know?”

  “Or a little late,” Jonah said dryly. Tommy turned to start stacking dog food again, and Jonah said, slowly, because the memory was painful: “He was so worried that I’d out you here. It was like, he was pretty sure I’d never talk to him again, but the first thing he said was trying to protect you.”

  Tommy put the dog food down and stood, shoulders dropping, over the stack. “We pet him,” he mumbled like he hated himself for even saying it.

  “Like a dog? That’s horrible!”

  “No, you asshole, like a friend!” Tommy stood and hefted the dog food bag—Jonah had noticed that he wasn’t really good at standing still. “We… he needs to be held. He needs it. He needs good touches. Man, I’ve never seen someone need to be touched so bad. I mean… with Chase, it really was all about the sex, and you could just see it on-screen—that’s what made him hot. But Ethan? It’s like… all touch. He’ll get off on pain, but….” Tommy shuddered. “There’s sort of an on-set agreement, you know? We tell the new guys—I think Kane told me—you just, you don’t push it too far. You don’t… you don’t hurt him. You just don’t hurt him.” With that, he turned and threw the dog food bag on the stack and then double-checked to make sure it would stay.

  Jonah’s heart was blurring like a hummingbird in his chest, and he tried to lift the next bag and dropped it. “I hurt him,” he said apologetically. “He hurt me too.”

  His hands were sweating, and he had to turn and sit down on the dog food stack. Tommy apparently forgot he was a manager and sat down next to him, and then did a real friend thing and put an arm around his shoulders. “What’d he do?”

  “Tried to drive me away. Like he’s too dirty for me to touch.”

  Tommy grunted. “You are kind of sweet for all this shit.”

  “He tattooed ‘whore’ on his ass,” Jonah said. His voice squeaked, small like a mouse, and he didn’t care, because he needed to tell someone this. His whole life, if he’d wanted to talk to someone, his parents or even his sister, they’d been there. Not telling Tommy, that didn’t seem possible.

  “Oolf….” Jonah looked up at him to see Tommy rubbing his stomach. “Okay. That’s official. No more leaving that guy alone at night.”

  Jonah looked at him sideways. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean after Chase did his thing with the razor blade, I didn’t spend a night alone. Dex organized it, I think, because Dex just does that. But don’t worry. We’ll take care of him.”

  “Great,” Jonah snapped, standing up and pacing to the end of the aisle. The place wasn’t open yet, but a woman in high heels and tight jeans was bringing her red-and-white bulldog into the veterinarian’s office. Jonah thought wistfully of school and how he’d wanted to be a veterinarian when he was a kid, and then just own a business that dealt with animals. Maybe he still could, he thought, trying to distract himself. It didn’t work. “Great,” he said again, a little more softly. “Wonderful. Then I don’t know what you’re talking to me for. You guys, you got him covered.”

  “Jesus, don’t be such a virgin,” Tommy snapped.

  “Shut up.” A thin red veil dropped in front of Jonah’s vision. “Shut up. I’m so sick and tired of my sexual experience or lack thereof having any sort of bearing on this. I don’t care if I’ve fucked one guy or I’ve fucked a thousand, I’m not talking about his ass, I’m talking about his heart, and his heart fucking hurts!” Jonah swung his foot at the pile of dog food bags, shocked when the pressure of the bag gave way. There was a pop of stressed paper and an abnormally loud clatter of dog food on the floor, and Jonah wrestled his foot out of the bag and then looked at it in surprise.

  “Wow,” Tommy said, stunned too apparently. “Them bags ain’t made for shit.”

  “No.” Jonah sank to a squat and wiped his stinging eyes with his palm. “No. They’re supposed to hold dog food. They’re not counting on stupid fuckers kicking them in the weak spot.” He wiped his eyes again and stood up, then kicked some of the dog food for good measure. “I’ll go get a fucking broom,” he said, his voice thick, and Tommy’s arm around his shoulder surprised him. God, Tommy was ripped—but Jonah didn’t want to hit that. He wanted Ethan and that playful smile, and the way he fidgeted with anything under his fingers but sat still everywhere else, and the way he could relate anything to a movie, and the shitty way he lied.

  “What’s so wrong with us taking care of him?” Tommy asked, his voice low.

  Jonah wanted to smack himself for underestimating Tommy. What, he thought because the guy was ripped and worked in porn, he’d be stupid? “You guys take such good care of him, he doesn’t want me to do it,” Jonah said softly, watching the last of the kibble hit the floor.

  “Just because we’ve fucked him doesn’t mean he’s ours,” Tommy said, just as quiet. “You’re not going to save him from porn with your magic virginal wang, Jonah—you’re not. But just because we’ve all been naked with Ethan doesn’t mean we’re the touch he needs, either. Whatever made him need so much, it’s complicated. Maybe helping him is going to be complicated too.”

  “Well, better you than me,” Jonah said, disengaging himself from the hug and trying to sound like it didn’t rip him up to say it. “He barely answers my texts.”

  “Jonah?”

  Jonah stopped and managed to make himself meet Tommy’s eyes. “What?”

  “Don’t stop texting, okay? Please? The night Chase… I mean, that night, I was a wreck. And all the guys from work, they were there. Dex tried to get us all to give blood and he couldn’t, and he cried like a baby, and Ethan just fucking fell apart, but they were all in the waiting room, and they kept me from just fucking losing it. But none of that would have mattered—none of it, you hear me?—if my fucking boyfriend hadn’t stopped slitting his fucking wrist and decided to live instead. So keep texting him. Yeah, we’re support staff, and that’s great. Bully for us. But if you and him, you’re special, then that’s special. Chase and I never shot a scene together, you understand me? But I knew I wanted him the minute I saw him. Sometimes sex doesn’t have a fucking thing to do with it. Sometimes it just gets in the way.”

  Jonah swallowed. Well, if anyone would know, maybe it was Tommy. “Yeah,” he said, not hopeful exactly, but less despondent. “I’ll go get a broom.”

  I JUST talked to your friend Tommy.

  Yeah?

  Get him and Chase something nice for Christmas, okay?

  Like what?

  Maybe a you that’s not hungover. They’re worried.

  Fucking Jesus.

  I’m worried too.

  Evan?

  Evan?

  Shit, Evan, you scare me when you just drop off like that. Please, just let me know you’re there. You’ve got too many friends who’ve tried to hurt themselves, can’t you see how I’d worry? So I’m going to ramble until you maybe just tell me to go fuck myself.

  Please, Evan? Just say you’re okay?

  I’ll leave work and come over there if you don’t pick up.

  Jesus, kid, don’t be dramatic.

  Don’t be a dick and drop out of a convo like that.

  I’m tak
ing a shower. Get off my back.

  Text me in an hour.

  Whatever.

  Jonah breathed a sigh of relief in the equipment closet and grabbed the broom, dustpan, and trash can. Good. He could get Ethan to text him back. That was something. That was power. Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe they meant something to each other. Maybe that was a place to start.

  THAT night, on their way back from the gym, Amelia gave him another way.

  “Hey, Jonah—you seen Ethan lately?”

  Jonah looked at her sideways and tried to figure out how much she knew. “Uhm, no.”

  “Not since you guys had that horrible fight, right?”

  Oh God. “How did you know we had a horrible fight?”

  She coughed, which she did a lot after working out, but he had to wait for a little while. Finally she gasped in some air and said, “Let’s see, you go storming out of the house and you’re all pissed, and you get back late and won’t look at us. And your eyes were all red. You got into a fight with your boyfriend.”

  “He was never mine,” Jonah said, and the words hurt.

  “Bullshit,” Amelia muttered. “God, I saw the way he looked at you.”

  “You know, people fake that shit all the time,” Jonah muttered. “I’m stopping for a vitamin water. You want one?”

  “No, I want a soda, but I’ll take a diet vitamin water, thank you!”

  “God, you’re a pain in the ass.”

  She grinned unrepentantly at him, and he ran into the gas station distractedly. The guy behind the counter was tall, blond haired, lanky, and he smiled at Jonah’s T-shirt.

  “You like that one?” he asked.

  Jonah looked down at his Bleach T-shirt. “Yeah, but I’m starting to like the more obscure ones, you know?”

  “Starfighter?” the guy asked hopefully, and Jonah realized with a shock that he was being flirted with.

  “Yeah,” he said, smiling, like it happened every day. “That’s one of my boyfriend’s favorites.”

  The disappointment was palpable. “Well, you know. If you ever have to go to a con alone, let me know.” The guy smiled wistfully, and Jonah smiled back, being kind. He thought he’d want someone to be kind to him if they were ever just not interested, and as he took his two vitamin waters and his change back, that’s when it hit him.

  “Shit,” he muttered, hopping into the family Toyota.

  Amelia had been dozing against the window, and she startled awake. “What? What’s wrong?” she asked, and then she had to cough some more. Jonah held out the bag so she could throw her tissues in, and thought hard about answering her question.

  “If a guy wanted to let you down gently, he’d do it, right?” He knew this. “I mean, he’d smile at you, and you’d know it was okay. But… if he really wanted you but didn’t want to want you, that’s when shit gets complicated, right?”

  Amelia widened her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

  Jonah shook his head. “I don’t know. Because the whole thing is just fucking confused, that’s why.”

  Amelia took a swig of her water. “What’s so confusing, really? He likes you, you like him, you cash in your V-card—”

  “It’s not about sex,” Jonah said and realized that was both the complete truth and a total lie. “Okay,” he said quietly. “It’s totally about sex. It’s all about sex, and all of the sex he’s gotten in public and none of the sex he’s ever gotten in private.”

  Amelia blinked. “Porn?”

  “God, you made that jump quicker than I did.”

  “Well, have you seen him? I mean… he could be hung like a parrot, and he’d still be good for porn!”

  Jonah grunted, maneuvering the car through the chilly November fog. Thanksgiving was in about a week, and it was after ten o’clock. The streets were spooky and muffled, and the car was suffused with the comfortable intimacy of talking with one of your favorite people in the dark.

  “He’s not, uhm, hung like a parrot,” Jonah confided.

  Amelia turned to him, impressed. “Jonah!”

  “We didn’t, you know. He doesn’t want to… I don’t know. Damage my virtue or something. It sort of sucks.”

  “Omigod!” Amelia exclaimed, sounding so very teenaged girl that Jonah felt a surge of affection for her. “What’s with that? Man, I worked my ass off to get Dylan Kripke to sleep with me last year, and half the time it was ‘No, I don’t want to contaminate you with my sex germs!’ and half the time it was ‘No, you’re all fragile and I don’t want to hurt you!’ and Jesus, once we actually had sex, it was stupid and lame!”

  “Melly!” Jonah gasped, torn between horror and admiration. God, she could be stubborn as hell.

  “It got better,” she muttered. “In fact, you know, if I hadn’t been so sick this year, we would have had more of it.”

  “You have a boyfriend?” he asked, just to make sure.

  “Well, yeah,” she said, sounding hurt. “I mean, he’d like to be now. But first we had to get past the virgin thing, and then Mom and Dad were doing their stupid dance, and this year….”

  She trailed off glumly. Yeah. She’d been sick a lot since August. Even the extra activity in this past month hadn’t helped the crap from settling in her lungs. The last infection hadn’t completely cleared, but she had gotten back on the treadmill surprisingly quickly, and Jonah finally understood why.

  “We haven’t met him,” Jonah said quietly. “It would be nice to frickin’ meet him.”

  “Yeah, well, then I’d do what you did with Ethan. Introduce him to the fam, get everybody all excited that I was going to have a good relationship, and then poof!” She waved her fingers. “No more boyfriend. No more happy family. All gone.”

  Oh, ouch. “Well, you know, things may be shit between me and Ethan, but I think he would really like to hear from you.” Jonah fumbled in his pocket and gave Amelia his phone. “Here—his number’s pinned to the front.”

  She looked at the picture and gasped. “Omigod! You weren’t kidding—that’s his porn shot!”

  “Well, his head shot, anyway.” Jonah had downloaded it from the net, since he’d actually liked the picture. It was the confident, cocky, funny boy with the goofy smile who had come into PetSmart in the beginning, and Jonah knew he was as much a part of the Ethan he knew as the lost, angry boy who’d bared his tattooed ass and asked the world to watch.

  “Okay.” Amelia was silent for a moment while she copied the number into her own phone. “I got it. What do I do next?”

  “Just text him. He’s got the whole ‘I don’t want to contaminate your pure body with my sex cooties’ thing, but he likes you, and I don’t think he’ll push you away.”

  “Ooh! That’s devious. I like it!” She grinned at him, her eyes at half-mast. They were stopped at an interminable traffic light, and he realized he could see the flush of her face in the car.

  “Dammit, Melly, are you getting sick again?” God. Not another infection. Not so soon.

  “Yeah, probably, but I think I can get a text in before we get home and Mom starts up with the panic.”

  “Amelia!”

  “Shut up, Jonah. He says hi!”

  “Yeah?” Oh God. Progress. Progress at last. He was right. If Ethan hadn’t been interested, he would have smiled and blown Jonah off. He was interested. Now Jonah needed to figure out what to do with that information.

  HEY, Jonah.

  Yeah?

  How’s your sister?

  In the hospital. She’s got the respirator going. No texting.

  I’m sorry. Can I visit?

  Yeah, she’d like that. You’ll need to put on the sterile scrubs.

  Yeah, fine. Tomorrow afternoon.

  Room 215, Respiratory Care Unit. I’ll see you there.

  I told you so you could avoid me.

  Nope. I just told Melly you’re coming. Can’t escape me.

  Not even in my dreams.

  Jonah stared at the text, mouth wide, and then looked at his sister, who was s
truggling for breath. He and his parents had spent their Thanksgiving Day in the hospital cafeteria eating processed turkey, bland stuffing, and whipped potatoes because this go-round, Amelia’s lung infection wasn’t responding to any of the oral antibiotics, and she’d needed IV treatments and oxygen and what felt like an army of nurses pounding on her back to help her get rid of the crap in her lungs. His parents had gone home—together—arm in arm, struggling with exhaustion and sadness, and he’d elected to stay the night so she didn’t have to be alone on Thanksgiving.

  “Melly, you can’t even move, and you’ve been texting Ethan?”

  Amelia smiled gamely. “Nothing to… do… but sit on my… ass,” she managed through the oxygen tent, and he wanted to kiss her cheek or something. He rubbed his finger on the side of the tent instead. Ethan had been making terse, polite responses to his texts this past week, and that had been frustrating but better. Ever since Jonah’s freak-out, Ethan hadn’t left him hanging, and that was something. Tommy said that after three nights of one of his friends hanging out and dissuading him from too much beer in the evenings, Ethan had lost his temper, dumped all his remaining alcohol down the drain, and made everybody go home. According to Tommy, he’d been up and ready to work out, if not exactly bright and shiny.

  “He was the world’s nicest guy, and you managed to break him. I don’t even know why I fucking bother,” Tommy grumbled. Jonah felt bad for all of a minute, but then he remembered that the world’s nicest guy had probably been not particularly happy even while he was being nice.

  But now he was asking to come see Jonah’s sick sister, which was pretty freaking awesome. Or it would be if she weren’t currently engaged in scaring them all shitless, anyway.

  She’d been in the hospital for three days, and getting her slight body to respond to treatment had been really fucking difficult this time. Jonah had been there for the conference o’ doom with his parents and the ever-patient doctor. They’d all been ready for it. Sort of. They must have been ready for it. Still, the words “transplant list” and “if she doesn’t get one, she might not make it through the year” shocked them painfully. Jonah had been struggling with that the entire week, and it sucked. His parents—God. His dad had slept at home all damned week, and seeing his dad hold his mom’s hand casually, like there was no pain and no recrimination between them, was enough to make Jonah cry and rage at the same time. You couldn’t have done this when she was happy! warred with the sudden, newly adult knowledge that sometimes the things that went on between two people were so private and so painful that the rest of the world just needed to reserve judgment and fucking refuse to comment.