Pick Up the Pieces

by Tinnean

  I hadn’t told Paul yet that I was no longer in the business, because I wasn’t sure how he would take it. Would he think I had wimped out, letting Wills talk me into walking away from something I’d done for the past twelve years?

  “Thanks, Sweets.” Paul turned the check over and over. “Spike, how do you want to spend this?”

  “It’s your money, Paul.”

  “No, it’s our money. Sweets?”

  “Spike is right. You more than earned that money. Spend it how you want.” I picked up the TV remote. “What do you feel like watching?”

  TWO DAYS later, when I still hadn’t heard from Wills, I called… to let him know Paul was home. I got his machine again. “This is Matheson. You know the drill. Go.”

  “Wills? It’s me. Theo. You’re still not home? Uh… I thought you’d want to know that Paul is out of the hospital.” To celebrate, I made the rib roast for Paul. I’d get another, or something else, for Wills when he finally got around to letting me know when I’d see him again. “Spike’s really excited about it. Well, so am I. I can’t wait for you to get to know Paul better. He’s a good friend. And… um…. Call me, will you?”

  ONE MORNING at breakfast, while I was brooding over the fact that Wills had been gone for more than a week and he still hadn’t called, Paul looked across the table at me. He stirred his coffee and then raised the cup to his lips, blew on it, but instead of taking a sip, he set it down.

  “Sweets, we need to talk. Spike’s been turning down ‘dates’ every night for the last three weeks….”

  I’d noticed the youngest rent boy’s roots had been growing out—it looked like his hair might be auburn when he wasn’t bleaching it—but hadn’t thought to say anything about it.

  “… and I haven’t been well enough to work.” He still tended to favor his left side. “Well, to tell you the truth, I’d probably scare the bejeezus out of ’em.”

  “Ass.”

  “Too much of this has been falling onto your shoulders.”

  “Uh… actually, I haven’t seen any of my regulars either. I kind of… er… uh… I’ve been taking a sabbatical.”

  “You thinking of taking Vince’s advice?” Paul and I had often talked about getting out of the business but had never had the impetus to do anything about it.

  “Yeah. Seriously.”

  He sighed. “This was a real wake-up call for me.”

  And me. The fact that Wills asked me to quit was just an added impetus. “Listen, Paul, why don’t you finish breakfast? I’ll go pull up our accounts online, and we’ll see where we stand.”

  About twenty minutes later, he and Spike joined me in the spare bedroom we’d converted into my office.

  “We’ve been making some good money, and the stock tips that broker passed on to us before he had to take early retirement were all solid.” And other than that trip to Disneyland, we hadn’t spent much of it. “So if you’re serious about getting out as you say you are, Paul, you can. Spike too.”

  “I’m serious as a heart attack, man. While I was in that hospital bed, I had a lot of time to think about… things.” He raised his gaze to mine. “And being out in California in January… I want to go home.”

  “And I’m going with him.” It only made sense that Spike would want to stay with his lover, but for the first time in my entire life, I’d be alone.

  I looked into Paul’s eyes. If this was what he wanted, I wouldn’t stand in his way.

  “Give me a few days to liquidate some stocks, and I’ll buy out your share of the house.”

  “Thank you, Sweets, but there’s no rush. I’ll send out some applications to hospitals in southern California. Looks like my RN license will come in handy.”

  “What will you do, Spike?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll find something.”

  Paul slid an arm around Spike’s shoulders and nuzzled his hair. “I’ll take care of you.”

  “I know, babe, but I want to pull my own weight.” He didn’t have a claim to the house, but he did have a share in the business. It wasn’t huge, but it was more than I’d had when I arrived in DC, so he should be okay.

  “Well, gentlemen, I guess this means the business is dissolved.”

  I GAVE Wills a call to let him know, but again I had to leave a message. I was starting to hate that machine. “Wills, are you there? Is everything okay? Shit. We need to talk. I… I miss you, babe. Call me.”

  Chapter 17

  ONE WEEK bled into the next, and the next thing I knew, three weeks had passed, it was the middle of May, and Wills still hadn’t called. And maybe I’d been correct at the beginning of the year: 2002 sucked canal water.

  I lost my temper and left another message. “All right, fine. You don’t want to talk to me, I don’t care! I don’t need….” I faltered to a halt when I realized he was exactly what I needed. “Ah, fuck, Wills. Call me! Please?”

  I began to worry. Well, even more than I had been. Was he cutting me out of his life? Had fucking me made him realize there had been so many other men who had? Did he think of me as cheap, as a whore?

  But that’s just what you are, a voice in the back of my mind whispered maliciously. It’s what you’ve always been. Franky must have known it just by looking at you. Otherwise, why would he have put you out on the street?

  Sickened by that thought, I stomped on it with both feet. Wills treats me well….

  It’s the novelty. He’d treat anyone well who could make him come as hard as you do.

  He likes me.

  How much longer do you think it will be before he realizes he can have someone all of Washington, DC hasn’t had?

  Yeah. That was what it came down to. I called Wills again. We’d hash this out, and….

  I got his machine. Again.

  “Listen, Matheson. I don’t have to have a ton of bricks fall on me to get the message. You had my ass, and now you don’t respect me anymore.” I cringed at how clichéd that sounded but I’d be damned if I let that come across, so I snarled, “If that’s the way you feel about it, fine!” And then I backpedaled. “I didn’t mean that! Call me?”

  God, I was so pathetic.

  I’d put off calling Vince for a couple of reasons: I didn’t want him to tell me I wasn’t good for Wills and this was nothing more than I deserved, but most of all I didn’t want him to think badly of Wills.

  But I couldn’t wait anymore, and finally I called him. “I know you’re busy, Vince, but….”

  “What’s up?”

  “Um… have you seen Wills lately?”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know,” I finished miserably.

  “All right, look. I can tell you that he’s out of town and it’s work-related, okay?”

  “Can you tell me when he’ll be back?”

  “No.”

  I sighed. “Okay. Thanks, Vince.” I hung up, swearing to myself that I wouldn’t call Wills again.

  I’d go out and buy something. Maybe that would make me feel better.

  The phone rang, and I almost tripped over my feet in the rush to get it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, there, Ace.” It was the exec.

  “Oh. Hello, Thomas.” Of course that wasn’t his real name.

  “You sound really glad to hear from me.”

  “Sorry. I’m…. What can I do for you?”

  “I was hoping to set up something with you.”

  “Well, you know Delilah was… that she’s dead.”

  “Yes. I was sorry to hear about that. She was very talented. No, I was thinking of Layla.”

  Layla, tall, blonde, and with more curves than a scenic railway, had moved in downstairs after Delilah moved to the condo in Aspen Reach, but I rarely saw her.

  “I’m sorry, Thomas. I’m not available.”

  “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you when I’ll be arriving….”

  “I should have made myself more clear. I’m out of the business.”

&nb
sp; “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Was he going to say I was very talented too?

  “I can recommend another stable if you’d like.”

  “Of course. I know coming from you, they’ll be very creative.” Had he always been so condescending?

  No, I realized, that was unfair to him. Just because I was out of sorts that I hadn’t heard from Wills in months…. Okay, a few weeks….

  “You know, if you ever decide to…. Well, I just want you to know that I’ll always give you first priority, Sweetcheeks.”

  “Thank you, Thomas. I appreciate that. Do you have a pen?” I gave him Charlemagne’s number, then said good-bye, hung up, and called Charlemagne myself.

  “Chuck, it’s Sweetcheeks.”

  “Well, well, well. And to what do I owe this honor?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

  “I’m sending you a very good john, Chuck. If I hear he hasn’t gotten top-notch treatment from your boys, you will never get another recommendation from me ever. Got that?”

  “I’ve got it, Sweets.” Jesus, I hated when he called me that in that tone of voice. “I’ll handle him myself, and I assure you, he will have no complaints whatsoever.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” I told him what Thomas liked.

  “And you say he’ll want a woman involved as well?”

  “He mentioned Layla, who lives downstairs.”

  “She’s taken over for Delilah, hasn’t she? I was sorry about Delilah. She was good people.”

  “You knew her, Chuck?”

  “Do you have any idea how much I loathe and detest that nickname?” Why did he think I called him that? “And yes, I knew her. I tricked with her a time or two myself. Thank you, Sweetcheeks.”

  “You’re welcome, Charlemagne. Remember to treat him nice.”

  “Of course.” He hung up.

  The day wore on. I didn’t find anything I liked in Beau Brummel’s or Boots and Away, and I went home. Once there, I couldn’t settle to anything I tried—not cooking, not working on the books, not even watching The Big Chill, which was a favorite of Wills’s. I began to wonder if Vincent had lied to me. We were friends, but he worked with Wills every day. If Wills asked him to tell me he was away…?

  In spite of vowing to myself that I wouldn’t, I called Wills again.

  “Where the fuck are you, Wills? Look, Vincent told me you were away, but I know you know how to get your messages, so obviously you’re avoiding me. Are you avoiding me?” I hated the plaintiveness in my voice. I cleared my throat. “Call me, okay?”

  PAUL STARTED giving me looks, and Spike left the room whenever I entered it. What the fuck was wrong with me, carrying on like this? I’d known William Matheson for a little more than two months—although I really shouldn’t count the weeks he was away. Did I need to be loved so badly? Hadn’t I learned from Franky? The answer seemed to be yes to the first and no to the second.

  I couldn’t stand it any longer. I was going to track him down at his apartment. I knew where he lived.

  I looked up at the building. I wondered again how Wills could afford it.

  I couldn’t casually question the doorman, since there wasn’t one, so I waited until a matronly woman, her arms filled with groceries, climbed up the shallow steps and fumbled with her purse.

  “Let me help you, ma’am.”

  “Thank you. So kind.” Huffing and puffing, she let me take the bags and searched through her purse for her key. “I really should get myself a shopping wagon. I don’t recognize you, young man. Are you a new tenant?”

  “No, I’m visiting a friend of mine who lives here.” I followed her into the lobby. She checked for her mail. I glanced surreptitiously at the rows of boxes, but they didn’t have the little glass windows in them, so when I spotted Wills’s, I couldn’t tell if there was mail in it or not.

  She locked her mailbox and led me to the bank of elevators.

  “Who did you say your friend is?” We got in the elevator. “Perhaps I know her.”

  “Him. William Matheson?”

  “Hmm. I don’t recognize the name.”

  “He’s on eight.”

  “Oh, no wonder. I’m on six.”

  We rode up, and she told me about her granddaughter—quite a lovely young lady if she said so herself, and she eyed me thoughtfully—who would be coming to spend a week with her, which was why she had all the groceries. The elevator dinged.

  “Well, this is my floor.”

  “Would you like me to carry these to your apartment, ma’am?”

  She became cautious. “That’s very kind of you, but…. My husband wouldn’t approve.” She took her groceries. “I’m sure you understand?”

  “Of course. Have a good day, ma’am.” The doors slid shut, and with a slight jerk, the elevator rose the final two floors to my destination.

  No one was in the hallway, and I made my way down it to Wills’s apartment. When I found it, I stood outside, biting my lip, running a hand through my hair, and shifting from one foot to the other.

  It was stupid to be nervous. I raised my hand to knock, then paused, certain I heard voices inside. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I knew they were male. One was deep and husky, the other….

  Wills?

  Wills, who hadn’t answered any of my messages. Who was in his apartment with another man. They’d probably been fucking like rabbits. That and laughing at the stupid rent boy who’d given his heart away.

  My self-esteem in the toilet, I slunk home. I wanted… no more than that, I needed a drink.

  One wasn’t enough. Neither was four or five or six, and that should have told me, if nothing else could, how far up shit creek I was.

  PAUL FOUND me on the floor in the kitchen, cradling a bottle of retsina and mangling the words to “Isn’t it Romantic?”.

  “Ah, geez, Sweets.”

  “’T’s not as good as back home,” I mumbled, showing him the bottle. Grandpa used to get it from the old country, and Poppa had let me have a small glass for my fifteenth birthday. Just before he’d thrown me out.

  “Where is home?”

  “Not tellin’.”

  Paul shook his head. “You’ve never done this before.”

  “So?”

  “It isn’t good for you.”

  “So?”

  “He’s not worth it.”

  That was the problem. He was. Tears started to spill down my cheeks. “Why’d he do this, Paul? ’M not a bad person, am I?”

  “You’re the best, Sweets.”

  No, I wasn’t. I’d killed a man, but I kept that fact locked behind my teeth.

  “He doesn’t deserve you, and if he comes back, I’m gonna kick his preppy ass.”

  “’T’s a nice ass, Paul. Did I tell you I was the first one in it? Now who knows? He’s probably getting it fucked by someone who isn’t me.”

  “Y’know what you need, Sweets?”

  I peered at him, waiting for him to tell me.

  “You need to get laid.”

  “I did. An’ look where it got me.” I wasn’t going to tell him I was a one-man guy. He’d probably laugh his ass off, considering how many men I’d had in my bed.

  He shook his head, took the bottle from me, and emptied what was left down the drain.

  “Hey!”

  “Sleep it off, Sweets. And if I ever run into that bastard, I swear I’m gonna tear his head off his shoulders and piss down his neck.”

  “You’re not well enough for that!” He’d been out of the hospital for almost a month but still needed physical therapy, and the doctors had warned him to take it easy at least until the end of summer.

  “Wanna bet? When it comes to my friends, I’m the Terminator!”

  “Thank you,” I said in a small voice.

  “Ah, Sweets.” He shook his head again and squeezed my shoulder.

  Spike came in just then. “There you are, Paul. You need to lie down. The doctor said so.” He curled his fingers around Paul’s and led him to their bedroom.<
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  Why didn’t I have anyone to love me like that? I sniffled, and if I hadn’t been half in the bag, I’d have been ashamed at how sorry for myself I sounded.

  I found a bottle of vodka Paul must have forgotten about, choked down what was left, and decided I’d call one last time, just to see if Wills would pick up the phone. “This is Matheson. You know the drill. Go.” His goddamned answering machine.

  “Okay, that’s it, I’m through beggin’! Have it your own way. As far as I’m concerned, we’re through.” I slurred so badly I wondered if he’d even understand a word I’d said. I dashed the tears from my eyes. Well, fuck it. It didn’t matter. “Do me a favor. Don’t come around anymore! Ever! Bastard.” I flipped the phone shut and tipped the vodka bottle to my lips.

  I blinked. How had it gotten empty? Damn. The retsina was down the drain and the vodka must have emptied when I wasn’t looking.

  And then I remembered: at Charlemagne’s last affair, he’d supplied nips—two-ounce bottles of various liquors—as favors. I’d kept mine as a reminder of what a show-off he was, but this would be the perfect opportunity to put them to some good use.

  I WAS wondering why the room was spinning and thinking maybe I shouldn’t have had that last Kahlúa, when I heard raised voices out on the landing. One was Paul’s and the other was….

  No. Why would Wills come here? He’d done everything he could to show he wanted nothing to do with me.

  “Didn’t Spike make it clear to you downstairs? Sweets doesn’t want to see you, you bastard,” Paul snarled.

  My friend! I could picture him standing in front of the door, guarding it like the angel Gabriel. Or whatever angel it was who stood guarding the gates of Heaven.

  “Tough shit, because he’s going to!” My ears weren’t playing tricks on me. It was Wills!

  “Matheson, you can’t go in there! He isn’t alone!”

  I wasn’t? I looked around. It took a second for me to realize Paul was trying to discourage my lover… my former lover… from coming in.