Defining Us: The Calvin & Eric Story (69 Bottles)
Page 17
“I’m so sorry,” he breathes into my chest.
I grab his shoulders, pushing him back from me just enough that I can get him to look at me. “Sorry for what?” I say softly.
“What happened earlier.”
I sigh. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Cal, nothing at all. It’s a part of who you are and aside from wiping those thoughts from your head, I wouldn’t change a single thing about what happened. I know that wasn’t you. I know it wasn’t who you really are. I know that it is a programmed part of you and it is one that I cannot wait to reprogram. But I will never, ever, let you feel sorry for things like that. You have nothing to be sorry for.” By the time I’m done with my speech, my voice cracks with the emotion I feel looking at the fear in his eyes.
“I wish I could just turn it off, that it would just go away,” he says angrily.
I smile at him and reply, “That is what you’re doing now. You obviously want that part of you gone so bad it is tearing you up inside.”
“I’ve never had a reason to want that part of me gone, not until now.”
“Then let that be your motivation. Let that be the part of you that wins over your darkness. Calvin, look at what you’ve accomplished in a week’s time. A week ago, you would never have been able to do what you did today.”
“But then I spoiled it by freaking out.”
“So what?” I ask, “So what if you freaked out when it was over. Calvin, do you have any idea how many times I’ve regretted an orgasm with someone? It’s like buyer’s remorse and for most men, myself included, once we orgasm, our brains start working again and the rose colored glasses come off. It happens to all of us, just in your case, you can’t control how you will react when the bliss fades.”
He gives me a half sob, half whine, half laugh. “But my bliss wasn’t over yet.”
He leans into me and I can’t help but chuckle. He was so fucking cute with his statement that it warmed my heart. I can feel him laughing too. “Well, if you’d prefer, you can have the spare bedroom tonight, the door locks,” I tease him and he pulls back, socking me in the shoulder.
“Fuck that, I want to sleep with you.” There is a smile on his face so wide that I swear it spreads from ear to ear.
My heart swells at that idea and I smile back. “I’d like that very much.”
He leans up, tilting his head back in invitation and I lean down, kissing him gently. I’m already hard, still, I don’t need to go getting him all worked up again. Him, as in my dick.
When Calvin pulls back I offer, “I have an idea for dinner. If you’re up to it.”
He shrugs, “Fire away.”
“There’s a great bar and grill near the beach, on the beach actually. It’s always really quiet during the week. I go there often enough that no one bothers me while I’m there. Afterward, if you’re feeling up to it, we can take a walk on the beach.”
He smiles. “I like that idea.”
“Good, then let’s go,” I tell him.
We finish with our shoes and head out the door and down to our cars. “Uh, my car is full of my stuff, can we take yours?” he asks.
“Of course,” I reply. I’d planned on taking mine anyway, since I know where I’m going, but we’ll let that one go. I press the button and he climbs into the passenger seat before I can be gentlemanly and open the door for him. I shrug it off and climb in behind the wheel.
“ERIC, my man, what’s goin’ on?” I watch as Eric and this guy shake hands, apparently Eric spends a lot of time here.
“Not much, Malcolm, how’s business?”
I watch as Malcolm snorts a laugh. “Slow, it’s a typical Tuesday.”
“Good, that’s what we were hoping for. Malcolm, this is Calvin.” He introduces us.
“Mouse?” he says.
I smile and take his hand. “That’s me. Nice to meet you,” I tell him and he smiles back.
“Well, come on in.”
It is kind of an understatement since the restaurant is wide open, though there appears to be walls that come down around the place, but for now, it’s open. Good thing it’s awesome weather for April in Los Angeles. Malcolm leads us to a table, toward the back and half outside. I realize quickly that if you consider the ocean side the front of the restaurant, we’re in the front. “Wow, what a view,” I say as Malcolm hands us menus.
“Yeah, it’s pretty nice, especially on nights like this where it’s calm. What can I get you two to drink?”
“I think Mouse wants to try that summer ale you have.”
“Yeah?” Malcolm confirms, looking at me.
I shrug. “Sure.”
“Alright, be right back.” He turns on his heel and heads for the bar.
“Summer ale?” I raise an eyebrow at Eric.
“Ah man, it’s home brewed and it’s the best shit ever. I keep trying to convince Malcolm to bottle it and put it out there but he says it’s too much work. But he puts it on tap here. It’s one of the main reasons I come here,” he tells me with a smirk. “That, and Malcolm’s pretty fucking cool.”
“How long have you been coming here?” I ask him.
“I found it by mistake actually. I’d come out here, to the beach,” he nods in the direction of the waves, “and was walking along, found it. At the time it was pretty busy, but Malcolm had found me sitting at the bar, he recognized me, but never made a big fuss about it. He treated me well, served me his summer ale and the rest was history.”
“A good history at that,” Malcolm says as he approaches and places two big glasses on the table.
Eric gestures toward my beer. “Go for it,” he encourages and I pick up the glass, unsure of what to expect, but I take a drink anyway. It’s hard to describe, but it’s got a hint of pineapple and a lot of apple flavor to it, very little hops.
“Damn, that’s some great shit.” I smile at Malcolm. “I have to agree with Eric, you need to bottle this shit like a.s.a.p.”
Malcolm laughs, “Yeah, yeah, you two can pay for it.”
“Fuck yeah,” Eric chimes in. “I’d totally be on board with that.” He laughs and takes a big drink from his own glass.
“We’ll talk about it,” Malcolm chides.
“Yeah yeah, you’ve been saying that forever and yet here we sit.”
“Man, if I bottle that shit, ain’t no one got a reason to come in here no more,” Malcolm laughs.
“He has a point,” I say to Eric.
“Fuck that, you ain’t tried his burgers yet.” Eric laughs.
“Alright, you two decide what you want and I’ll be right back,” Malcolm says before leaving us. A couple has just come in off of the beach and he’s off to play host.
“Doesn’t he have anyone to help him?” I ask Eric as I pick up the menu.
“Yeah, usually, but like he said, it’s a slow night. I usually duck in here during the week. Come Thursday night through Sunday, this place is packed.” Eric picks up his menu and continues, “I try to avoid the crowd, though Malcolm has been begging me to bring the band over here.”
“We should,” I tell him over my menu.
“Malcolm would flip his shit. He loves us. Though he’d never tell you that. There’s a couple of our songs that make it into his weekend music rotation and sometimes he has live bands here. As much fun as it could be to play here, it would be a complete disaster. There’s no real way to keep it private.”
I look around and I’m inclined to agree with him. From the beach there is open access to the restaurant and the crowds we’d attract would be a mess. Though it is definitely an idea for an impromptu party. “We should talk to Talon about it. Maybe we could do a surprise show or something one night.”
Eric and I continue talking about the band and getting back on the road tomorrow as we plow through our burgers. He wasn’t kidding. These things are amazing and are a perfect complement to Malcolm’s brew. “Thanks for bringing me here,” I tell Eric as we finish eating. “I didn’t realize this was what I needed until we got
here.”
He smiles at me, a genuine smile of appreciation and gratitude. “I’m happy you liked it.” He polishes off his beer. “I like to come here on nights like this to think. To just kind of escape it all when I don’t want to be pent up at home. Like I said, Malcolm is always kind and he won’t hesitate to step in if people get too curious about me, or recognize me. I’m pretty sure I’m not his most famous clientele.”
“Clientele or not, we have got to come back here again.” My mention of ‘we’ isn’t lost on Eric when a smile plays on his lips. “You like that idea, don’t you? The idea of ‘we’?” I ask softly.
The smile that was playing forms into a big wide smile accompanied by a blush in his cheeks. “Yeah Cal, I do. A lot.”
“I do too,” I tell him and it’s the truth. Being around him, lying with him, hugging and kissing him seems easier. I don’t feel the ache of nausea when I’m with him like this, intimately.
“Good.” His smile gets a little wider. “Let’s get out of here.”
I nod and he throws a hundred on the table, without looking at the bill. “No wonder Malcolm likes you so much,” I laugh and Eric joins me as he looks at the hundred on the table.
“I’m not usually so generous, but it’s a slow night.” He winks at me before hollering in Malcolm’s direction, “See ya, man.”
“Definitely, thanks guys,” he hollers back and we step out onto the beach, walking toward the waves.
We walk in silence until we find the top of the dip before the surf and Eric stops, kicks off his shoes and I follow, watching him roll up his jeans and tucking his socks into his shoes as I do the same. “It’s probably freezing cold, but easier to walk in the surf than on the dry,” he mumbles to me, but more to himself. Seemingly nervous about something.
“What’s wrong, Eric?”
I ask and he looks at me, concern on his face. “I don’t know how to do this. You know, something romantic in a way, like this.”
“Huh, and here I thought you knew everything,” I tease him and he snorts. “Honestly, I don’t know either, but…” I let my thought go unfinished, unsure of how to tell him that I’m not comfortable with the idea of holding his hand despite the fact that I really want to do just that.
“But?” he urges.
I sigh. “I’m afraid of offending you.”
He snorts, “Not likely to happen. Tell me, please?” he pauses, looking away from me, “I don’t know what you’re thinking if you don’t tell me and usually when you take on that tone of voice, it has something to do with…well, you know. So obviously whatever it is, is something I need to know.”
His tone is soft, comforting, not annoyed or really concerned, it’s just Eric and how I know he can be and has been when it comes to all this fucked up-ness. “I’m not sure I can handle public affection yet.”
He looks at me and responds, “As in?”
“Kissing?” The word comes out more like a question than a statement.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that either. Though I am proud of you and I would be proud to show you off as such, it’s…it’s different for me too and not something I’ve…well, I have, but in different settings, surrounded by hulking bodyguards and…but never on my own, never in a situation like this. It’s fun and exciting but in the same it’s scary and,” he sighs heavily, “society sucks.” He finally ends his little rant of word vomiting, spilling out some of his own inner concerns that outside of the bubble of our apartments, we’ve never considered before. He takes a deep breath before adding, “So tonight, we just walk down the beach and we talk. We enjoy each other’s company, relax, whatever and well, we tackle PDA another time.” He winks at me and I smile, nodding and standing up, holding my hand out to help him and he snorts.
“Yeah, yeah, shut up and get up,” I tease him. The snort was because all he’ll manage to do is pull my skinny ass over. He knows it and I know it, but the gesture is nice all the same.
He gets up, brushes the sand off of his ass and we start to walk along the beach.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asks me about a hundred yards into our stroll down the beach. The sound of the waves crashing against each other is soothing, almost a strange comfort, which is odd for a kid from Iowa who, until college, had never seen the ocean before.
“You’re asking me?” I shoulder check him. “I don’t know. Tell me more about your parents.”
He shrugs. “Not much to tell really.”
“What about Jess, did you tell her the other night?”
He shakes his head. “No, I just told her that the situation was deeper than I thought it would be and that we had some things to work out. I honestly didn’t feel your story was mine to tell, so I skirted the issue as best I could. She knows there is more to it, but that she will either find out when the time is right, or she’ll just have to accept it.”
I am not really sure what to say to that, so I just whisper my thanks and he smiles. “Someday, maybe I’ll be able to tell her, but I’m hoping that at some point in all of this, it will be irrelevant.”
“I like the idea of that,” Eric says with a playful smile.
My phone rings, I try to ignore it, it’s a generic tone so it’s not someone programmed into my phone.
“You going to answer that?”
I shake my head. “Nah, they can wait. Besides, it’s no one I know.”
“It could be important.”
I shrug it off and after a few more seconds it stops shrilling from my pocket.
Another few yards and it beeps with a voicemail. “See?” I tell Eric, “They left a message.” He laughs and rolls his eyes.
That’s when it starts ringing again, but this time it’s my ringtone of me playing guitar. Yeah, roll your eyes if you want, but I happen to like the song. “Now this should be someone I know.” I smirk at Eric and pull my phone from my pocket. “It’s Casey, odd.” I press the green phone icon.
“Yo, what’s going on?” I say into the phone while looking at Eric.
“Have you been getting weird calls?” Casey asks and I quirk an eyebrow at Eric.
“I just got one a minute ago, I didn’t answer it. Didn’t even look at it, why?”
Casey covers the mouth piece of the phone and talks to someone. “Who’s that?” I ask.
“Rusty, listen, check your phone, the number. It caught in the tracking. Normally we wouldn’t think much of it, but it called Mills too.”
I pull the phone from my ear and put Casey on speaker.
“What’s up?” Eric asks softly and I shrug. Unsure of what to think, I press the home button on my phone and click on the contacts button and over to missed calls.
“Oh fuck!”
“Calvin?” Casey and Eric say together, though I can barely register it. The sludge washes over me and I fall onto my ass as Eric takes my phone from my hand.
“CASEY, what the hell is going on?” I ask him as I look at Calvin’s phone. All I see is a number, no name but below the number it says ‘Iowa’.
“The number is flagged. We can’t get a hold of Mills to figure out why, we just know that it called Mills’ phone then turned around and called Calvin’s. Do you know who it is?”
“I can’t say for certain,” I tell Casey. “Look we won’t answer it, but I have got to attend to Mouse. Can we call you back?”
“Yeah, but we’re coming to you guys. Stay where you are.”
“That’s not…”
Rusty hops on the line, “No argument, stay there, we’ll be there in less than twenty.”
“Yeah, fine, whatever.” I click the red button and hang up the phone, dropping to my knees in front of Calvin.
I gently place my hands on his shoulders and he tries to shrug me off. “No, no, don’t. Calvin, come on, come back to me, what the hell is going on?” I say sternly and his eyes look to mine, though they’re blank, he’s completely checked out. Checked out the way he was this afternoon. “Come on Cal, I’m right here. Talk to me.”r />
“I…I can’t.” His eyes dart to one of my hands and then the other.
“I got you. I’m here, now I just need you to talk to me.”
“My…ffffaaa…”
“Your father?” Dread courses through me. Of all the times for that son of a bitch to call him, it had to be right now.
Calvin nods. His breathing starts to slow and the tension in his body starts to subside the longer I hold his shoulders. I start to rub my thumbs against his biceps, helping calm him. God, I hope I’m helping. It seems to be working the longer I work on bringing him down from his panic attack. “Breathe for me,” I tell him gently and he does, taking in a huge gulp of air and releasing it slowly. “That’s it, come back to me. I’m here, no one else, just me and you.”
Slowly the life and light return to his eyes, and despite the darkness of the beach I can see he’s coming back to me. “Hi there.” I smile. “Are you back?” I ask and he nods. “Welcome back. Can you tell me what happened?”
He shakes his head and I just let it go, giving him a chance to return. “We need to go,” he tells me.
I huff, “We can’t. We have to wait for Rusty and Casey to get here.”
“Why the fuck do we…”
I stop him with a stern ‘you know the drill’ look and he sags. “Please don’t tell them.”
“Well, they obviously know something about that phone number,” I tell him as I release his shoulders.
“Please don’t be mad at me.”
“Calvin, I am anything but mad at you.”
I sit next to him, “I gave the number to Mills, back when we hired them. The number was an emergency contact, but…” he sighs, “But I told him never to use it unless I was dead and the funeral was long over. I never told him who it was specifically that he would be calling, and well, I never thought he’d flag the fucking thing.”
“Well, I would imagine he would, given the circumstances. You know Mills, ever the paranoid one.” I try and laugh it off, but I seem to have lost my sense of humor somewhere tonight.