Marcus in Retrograde

by S A Sommers

  Marcus’s cheeks went utterly pink, and it was one of the cutest things I’d seen in ages. He affected a terrible southern accent for his answer. “Well, schucks, Missy. T’weren’t no theng. You’re right welcome.”

  Her laughter floated back at us as she ascended the stairs to her apartment. “Thanks, guys!”

  Marcus looked lost a moment later. “So, I have to apologize for my idiot dog. I don’t know why he’s so keen on barking at the wall. He’s actually a really good dog and I don’t want anyone upset with him.”

  “Well, he’s met me now,” I said, crouching down to give him some ear scratches. “Maybe now he’ll relax a bit at night.”

  “I sure hope so,” Marcus said. “I like this building and you’ve all been really nice to me since I moved in.”

  “Except for poochy here, we’re all reasonably pleased with you too. The old guy who lived there was a crab and a jerk and used to make nasty sexist comments to Missy. I had to defend her more than once. And the homophobic comments…”

  God, the times I had held my tongue against that asshole and his comments. We were in the Village. Gay was not a new thing here, and that old man couldn’t stand that some of us liked dick.

  “I’m happy to replace his homophobia with homophilia.” Marcus laughed.

  Wait.

  What?

  MARCUS

  ONCE AGAIN, MY SHOCKING ABILITY with words rushed to the forefront and I outed myself.

  I figured this Chase guy was at least an ally, if he was bitching about a homophobe. So, I had that going for me, but still. I knew better. I’d learned the hard way that not everyone was okay with gay men. They might even be fine with lesbians, but men with men freaked them out.

  Thanks, toxic masculinity!

  Chase didn’t seem to react to my outing myself, still petting Pollux. I just let it go. Either he was or wasn’t an ally and that was that.

  “So, how about if we let Pollux stiff around my place,” Chase said. “If you think that would reinforce that I’m the good guy and not here to steal his bed.”

  Okay, he was cool with this. “Yeah, I mean, that sounds like the right thing to do.”

  “Good,” Chase said, and stood up. “Let’s go.”

  He held his hand out and I froze. Why was he holding his hand out? Was I supposed to take it? Slap it? High five? Lace our fingers together?

  Pollux barked.

  I was an asshole. He wanted the leash.

  Jerking myself back to the real world, I offered it and he took it with a smile. I watched as he headed up the stairs with my dog.

  And a very, very hot ass.

  Shit.

  I trotted up the stairs after him to the third floor, and he went right to his door. He popped the door open, clearly having left it unlocked on his flight down, and Pollux trotted in happily.

  Pulling the door closed, I realized his apartment was a quarter turn off of mine, meaning my living room was against his bedroom.

  That’s why he could hear my idiot dog so well.

  “Man, I didn’t realize they did that,” I mumbled. “Logically, this building should be mirrored, and that should be your living room.”

  “Nothing in this building is logical,” Chase said. “Absolutely nothing.” He leaned down and unclipped Pollux’s leash. “Go crazy, my canine friend. Make sure you sniff everything and get used to me. Because I want to sleep in my bedroom.”

  Pollux trotted happily around the room, sniffing anything and everything.

  “Would you like a beer? Soda?”

  “Oh, uh…just a soda, thanks.”

  I followed him into the kitchen, where I saw my drawing on the table. I picked it up and smirked. I was impressed he had noticed that Cubs hat I put on the dog.

  “So you really are a Cubs fan?”

  Chase pointed back to the living room, and I saw the shelf there with the Cubs paraphernalia. Hat, tickets, bobble heads, trophies, and a picture.

  “I am a light fan, now,” he said. “I used to be bigger into it. But…things change, and I can’t really dedicate the time or mental bandwidth to it. I just roll along with the scores online.”

  “Well, that’s not nearly as much fun as a game,” I said.

  “No, but like I said, it’s not really something I can find the time for.”

  There was more to it than I was entitled to know at the moment. Chase handed me the soda.

  “So, do you think Poochy—”

  “Pollux.” I laughed.

  “Pollux,” he corrected, “will be less barky now that he’s had the run of the place and knows I’m over here?”

  “Well, here’s hoping,” I said, and raised my can to toast the idea.

  “Prost,” he answered, and tapped his drink against mine. “I will give you this. Your dog is adorable. But um…what the hell is he?”

  “Half basset hound and half golden retriever,” I answered, laughing. “Aunt Bits forgot to get her golden snipped and he made moves on the neighbor’s prize bitch. Pollux, his two sisters, and compensation to the tune of three thousand dollars were the result.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because the pregnancy didn’t result in pure bassett hounds, so the neighbor said she could either give him the money or they’d go to civil court.”

  “Over a dog being a dog?”

  “Bassett hound puppies go for a thousand dollars apiece, and a breeder like Mister Haywood isn’t a backyard breeder or a puppy mill. He’s a very reputable breeder, and Bits was happy to pay it because it was her fault.” I tipped my head, considering things. “She also had to home the puppies, and I fell for this dumbass.”

  Pollux trotted in, sniffing things as he went. Chase bent down after putting his beer on the table. “You are a cute thing, aren’t you?”

  He was enamored with the dog, to be sure. And I couldn’t help finding myself a little enamored with him.

  Christ, he was going to end up being straight.

  Chase was standing outside his door the next morning in a robe and holding a steaming cup of coffee. He looked like hell.

  “Oh, no,” I murmured. “Really? All night again?”

  “All night. All effing night.”

  I didn’t know what to say. There was no way Pollux could stay with me if he was going to bark all night long.

  “Chase, man…I don’t know what to say…”

  “You’ll be in here tonight, at seven, with my friends helping me switch the living room and bedroom.”

  “Are you sure—”

  He pushed the door open. “I’m not as big of a dick that I’m going to make you get rid of your dog. The rooms are the same size. Just show up and pay for pizza and beer.”

  “Done, man,” I said, sticking my hand out. “Thank you for not suggesting—”

  He gripped my hand. “Stop right there. He’s a dog. I’m a human. I can adapt better than he can. Plus, he helped with Missy yesterday so there’s no apologies necessary.”

  “Thanks,” I answered, not letting go of his hand right away. His hand was warm and soft, and oddly comfortable in my own. Had we not shook hands last night? Why did I not remember the way it felt.

  He was straight. That was why. I pulled my hand back and I could see confusion on his face as he stared at his hand.

  Shit, was he questioning?

  Chase lifted his eyebrows and sighed. “Okay. Seven. Don’t be late. I need my beauty sleep, otherwise,” his hand swept the tableau of himself, “you can see what I look like.”

  Hot? Sexy? Alluring in that robe with those long, muscular legs sticking out? Even his feet were sexy? “I get it,” I finally said. “I’m also going to set up a recorder and see if we can catch some kind of noise at night making him crazy. He didn’t do this for the first week I was here, so I’m wondering if it’s something else.”

  “Good idea,” Chase yawned. “I’m going to get ready for work. I’ll drag my friends back. See you tonight.”

  He pushed the door in and disappe
ared.

  I looked down at my dog. “You. I don’t know what to do with you. It’s a wall, you furry asshole. Stop barking at it like it’s in your way. The only time you’ve ever paid attention to any walls was when you walked smacked into them.”

  I only did once around the block with Pollux before I had to run off to get to the studio. I had four more projects in the mailbox, and I trotted into the room studying them. Two were marked rush but had no deadline. The other two had deadlines in three weeks. Plus the ones I already had that were urgent…

  I grabbed the phone and dial my manager’s number.

  “Liggit.” His tone was clipped.

  “Hey, Jerry, it’s Marcus. I have two assignments here marked urgent and have no date on them. How would I find out about those.”

  “Two?” I heard him shuffling paperwork. “That’s weird. There was supposed to be numbers on those. Vi! Where’s the urgent sheet?”

  He screamed right in my ear and I wanted to laugh. Screaming into a sound engineer’s ear was kind of a stupid move since we relied on our hearing for work.

  There was a rustling of papers, and I shook my head. Everything else was done by computer and spreadsheet, except the urgents? That was down right ridiculous. Someone slapped a paper on a surface.

  “Here we go,” Jerry said, “Thanks, Vi.”

  “Get organized, jackhole,” Vi snapped into the phone.

  “So what are the numbers?”

  I rattled off the two I had gotten today and the two yesterday. “I need those dates to—”

  “Oh, fuck,” he hissed.

  “Oh fuck what?”

  I could hear him hiss between his teeth. “All four of those are Roberts’ pieces. They need to be done today.”

  Ed Roberts strikes again. “Jerry, there’s ten hours of audio between the four assignments. I can’t do that all today. I have—”

  “Roberts requested you, the one who assisted Sorcha on the last set. He really likes your style, and he wanted to rerecord some stuff he didn’t like with the last tech.

  Shit.

  Shit shit shit.

  “I can’t even get ten hours today. Give me a priority, please, Jerry.”

  “The two yesterday were new requests. The two today are revisions.”

  “That helps a lot, man, thank you. I cannot possibly get these done today, but I will get as much of the revisions done as I can. Hopefully both.”

  “Roberts isn’t going to be happy.”

  “Neither is my neighbor whom I owe a big fucking favor to for not making me get rid of my dog,” I snapped. “So he can wait. Because now I have to apologize to the hottie next door that I can’t be there tonight to help rearrange his whole apartment to accommodate my idiot wall-barking canine.”

  There was silence on the phone, and then. “Okay. I’ll let him know.”

  “Thank you.”

  I placed the receiver down quietly, turned, and punched the wall.

  CHASE

  Marcus302: Dude. I am SO sorry.

  Marcus302: I got slammed at work and I’m going to be here until probably eight or later.

  Marcus302: Don’t hate me. Or my dog. I’ll still pay for beer and pizza. Just tell me when you want it and I’ll have it all delivered.

  I knew he didn’t want to blow me off. He felt so bad about Pollux barking all night. He seemed like the kind of guy who wanted to make everything right.

  Chaser: Don’t worry about the beer and pizza. Find another way to make it up to me. We’ll be done in an hour anyway.

  I was sad though. He seemed like a really nice guy who just wanted to be a nice neighbor. I was happy to have anything aside from Veteran Homophobe next door.

  There was no way of knowing how many times I had told that man he was living in the goddamn Greenwich Village. The place practically invented gay. There were the Stonewall Riots, and one of the oldest Pride Parades I knew of. And the old badger wouldn’t even hear it.

  “Real men don’t fuck other men.”

  The words had boiled around my brain, time and again. He always hissed and spit at gay couples. Not just any gay couples though. The ladies were exempt. He seemed to like those, and I’d nearly punched him the one time I caught him watching a couple across the street make out hot in heavy in their window.

  I was shocked he didn’t just whip it out and masturbate.

  I’d told the ladies what had happened, and their windows were never opened again. Until, the day his family had moved him out of the apartment and into an assisted living facility, closer to them in Staten Island.

  I’d almost thrown a party.

  In fact, the whole block had almost thrown a party. Mister Abramovich was delighted because he knew the old fart’s dog was one of the ones who sheet in front of my dragon fruit. On a regular basis.

  Marcus302: Could you do me a tremendous favor and I will keep you in pizza and beer for months?

  Chaser: Dog?

  Marcus302: Please?

  Chaser: Who has the key.

  Marcus302: Missy has one.

  Marcus302: Thank you thank you thank you thank you. Thank you. Thaaaaank you.

  Marcus was lucky I liked the wall-barking moron.

  Missy was able to give me the key at six and Pollux was practically dancing by the time I got him on the leash and down the stairs. He went straight for the hydrant and Mister Abramovich raised his eyebrow at me as Pollux relieved himself.

  “This is not your dog?”

  “No, sorry about the pee.”

  “This is the other boy’s dog.”

  “He got stuck at work.”

  “Ah, so you help him out with the dog. Very good.”

  Pollux trotted away from the hydrant and Mr. Abramovich hosed it off immediately.

  “I’m really sorry—”

  “Dogs pee, my friend. I wash this every day. You are good man for helping the other with the dog.” He nodded me onward, and Pollux seemed to know we were dismissed.

  We headed halfway around Washington Square when I realized I really had to get home and the dog was romancing other dogs and bushes in equal amounts. He’d been done peeing for half the time. I cut through the park, and headed back to the apartment.

  The irony of me walking the very beast that was making me rearrange my whole apartment was not lost on me. Ushering him back in the apartment, I realized I had to feed and water Pollux too.

  I filled his water bowl and he went to town on it, and quickly found the food and food bowl. I didn’t know how much to give him, so I guessed. It made a disgusting noise into the dish, and smelled like hell. But he apparently had no issue with it and chowed down.

  Looking around, waiting for the dog to finish his meal, I realized there wasn’t much to the place. It looked very much like he’d gone to Ikea for three basic things: a table and chairs, a couch, and probably a bed.

  I hoped he wasn’t living on the edge of broke. I hated when people had to do that. But, it was more likely he just hadn’t had a chance to really settle in.

  Except for the pictures.

  The one wall of the living room was covered in framed pictures from top to bottom. I glanced at Pollux who was still busy with his food, then walked over to the wall of images.

  I could see Marcus in a lot of them, at all ages. PeeWee football, kindergarten graduation, a second birthday picture. More of him with a family; mother, father, two sisters. Vacations, pets, biking, school plays, more football. There was one that looked like it had been snapped the weekend of his going away party, and a few Cubs games with either his dad or the whole family.

  It was genuine Americana.

  It was also a shot through my heart.

  This guy’s family fucking loved him. They didn’t care if he was gay, which was probably why he blurted out that he was. Even in a small city like Troy, New York—information gleaned from one of the photos—there were enough homophobes to make a person shy if your family wasn’t 100 percent behind you.

  Marcus clea
rly had that.

  I perused the images a little more and stopped dead on a medium frame at the end. There was a framed medal, and a picture of Marcus, standing with about a dozen other people wearing the medals with the giant “A” on them. A little plaque too.

  Marcus Chastain

  Best Male Audiobook Narrator

  Oh. My. Fucking. God.

  I had masturbated to this man’s voice.

  This man brought the most delicious fantasies to life on my audio player. It wasn’t an easy task—being demi, getting off was a trick sometimes. Rereading a book I liked several times helped me get to know the characters and forge a connection with them. I had a small collection of favorites, and then I’d discovered audiobooks.

  Specifically, Marcus Chastain’s audiobooks.

  Just the memory of his silky tones through the headset as I listened to one of my favorite gay romances—for the tenth or twentieth time—had me half hard against my zipper.

  Shocked I’d kept my eyes in my head and my dick in my pants, I looked at the dog in the doorway.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  Running into the kitchen, I quickly filled the water and bowl, where Pollux was happy to occupy himself. I made sure the living room light was on, the doors closed and—locking the door—made a mad dash the ten feet to my apartment door and slammed it.

  Marcus Chastain lived across the landing from me.

  Fuck.

  How had I not recognized his voice? I listened to those books at least once a week, and I didn’t recognize him!

  Because he wasn’t whispering about stretching your pretty hole to fit his cock and tempting me with slick fingers over mine.

  Holy crap on a cracker, the fly of my pants was making impressions on my dick. This was bad. This was really bad. My neighbor had one of the sexiest voices on the damn planet and now all I was going to do was strain to hear that when he was in the room with me.

  I thumped my head back against the door.

  Doomed. Dooooooomed.

  Taking several long, slow breaths, I managed to calm my heart rate and get my erection to deflate. I could not be caught with that kind of affliction when my friends came over to help me move rooms.