Loving Edits

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “How’s Mick doing?” Paul asked.

  Tono frowned. “I think he’s hiding something.”

  “Like what?” Paul pounced.

  “I don’t know, Pol. He’s moving a little slower, his voice is always hoarse, and he seems breathless. I don’t know if he’s just tired from partying so much, or if it’s the ALS.”

  “Well, no more partying for him. He’s back to his old routine after tonight’s ceremony.”

  “Sí. I told him he’s overdoing it, but he gave me the look, you know?”

  Paul huffed. “I don’t care what he says. We’re shutting him down.”

  Tono drove expertly through the curving countryside that was still green and lush. Fall had not arrived in San Sebastian, and the sun shone brilliantly on the hills surrounding the airport. The scenery was quite pastoral, with grazing animals and a few farmhouses scattered about. A far cry from the concrete world Paul called home. After about fifteen minutes, they reached the outskirts of the city. The streets were filled with residents and tourists, and Tono navigated his way gingerly to their side of town. Their apartment building was on the Calle Zubieta, but the lucky people whose homes fronted the water simply referred to it as being on La Concha, the name of the picturesque beach littered with sunbathers at this time of the day. Tono had purchased the three-bedroom flat many years ago, at the height of his career. Since his retirement, and inflation, buying something of this caliber would have been prohibitive. But they’d lucked out and had this beautiful place they could call home whenever they were in Spain.

  He drove into the underground parking, sliding the Mercedes into their designated spot. Baxter was out of the car as soon as it stopped and eager for Tono to pop the trunk so he could retrieve the luggage.

  Paul noted his impatience. “You seem to be in a big hurry to get upstairs, Baxter.”

  Baxter’s face pinked up. “Just want to get settled, sir.”

  They watched the man get into the elevator, and Paul turned to Tono. “What was that all about?”

  “I think Baxter is interested in more than just getting settled,” Tono smirked, resting his arm on Paul’s shoulder as they strolled toward the elevator.

  “Do tell.” Paul’s curiosity was piqued.

  “Our neighbor, Angela, has been asking about his return. I think she has a thing for your assistant.”

  “How old is she?”

  Tono shrugged. “Old.”

  “That’s helpful.”

  Tono laughed. “I don’t know,” he apologized. “She’s probably in her fifties.”

  “Really. I guess that answers your question, Tono.”

  “What question?” Tono looked confused.

  “The one you asked me years ago; whether Baxter is gay or not.”

  “Oh.”

  “Indeed,” Paul remarked.

  TONO pushed the front door open, and Mick was waiting in the foyer. He raised his arms in welcome as soon as he saw them.

  “Sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “Hey, babe.” Paul bent at the waist and kissed Mick. He cupped his face and stared at him. He looked weary, and there were new lines around his eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. “You look tired.”

  “I am tired, sweetheart. I need a vacation from my vacation.”

  “You’ll get one after tonight. No more partying for you, mister.”

  “Oh, you’re no fun at all,” Mick grumbled. “Have you seen all the reviews of the movie?”

  Paul nodded. “Congratulations, babe—we’ve got a major hit on our hands.”

  “Thanks to you,” Mick acknowledged.

  “Whatever.” Paul waved away the compliment. “What’s for lunch?”

  “Lots of good stuff,” Mick answered as he turned his chair deftly and wheeled his way across the hardwood floor into the kitchen area. “I have your favorites, including the chorizo de Pamplona, which is hell on your cholesterol.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Mick. You and Baxter act like nagging wives.”

  “Well, I am, sort of,” Mick said. “Someone’s got to watch over you since you don’t seem to care.”

  “Oh really. Look who’s talking. You should be in bed right now, taking a nap. Tonight will be a huge event, and we’ll be lucky if we get to bed before dawn.”

  “I was waiting for you,” Mick rationalized. “You guys make napping so much more fun.”

  “Well, I can tell your parts are still working just fine,” Paul’s eyebrows went up. “Hold that thought, babe. We can have each other for dessert.”

  “You bet,” Mick purred, then looked at Tono pointedly. “No chorizo for you.”

  Paul grinned, enjoying the power play.

  Tono snorted and inclined his head. “He thinks he’s my wife too.”

  “What a pain in the ass,” Paul said, cuffing Mick lightly. “I’m having chorizo whether you like it or not.”

  “Well, maybe a few slices, but no more this week.”

  Lunch turned out to be quite the spread. Delicacies of the region abounded in small portions―cheeses, olives, salamis, two kinds of ham, and the infamous chorizo were laid out on the round table set up on the balcony overlooking the harbor. There were chunks of freshly baked bread as well and a mixed green salad with avocado and baby shrimp drizzled with vinaigrette. Paul finally pushed away from the table and patted his stomach. “Okay. I’m done.”

  “Are you sure? You could probably squeeze in one more bite,” Mick deadpanned. “Really block those arteries once and for all.”

  “Don’t be so self-righteous.” Paul cupped Mick’s face lovingly. “I know you worry about our health, babe, but we’re big boys now. If we want to clog up our heart valves with rich food, we should be allowed to do it.”

  “You’re both clueless.” Mick pouted.

  Paul kissed his full lips and lingered briefly. “I’m afraid if we have sex right now, I’ll get appendicitis,” Paul joked.

  “Idiot! That only pertains to swimming,” Tono lobbed back.

  “You guys are both stupid,” Mick threw out. “The only thing that will happen if you have sex after a meal is cavities.”

  Baxter chuckled as he cleared off the table.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Paul asked Mick.

  Mick had the good sense to stammer through his lame joke. “That’s if you don’t brush first,” he amended with a shameful grin.

  “Silly,” Paul teased, noticing again how tired Mick appeared. There was something new going on that he wasn’t sharing. “You okay, babe?”

  “I’m fine, sweetheart, just tired.”

  “I worry about you.” Paul’s voice deepened.

  “I know. Can we please go to bed now? I’m sleepy.”

  “I’m tired too,” Paul said softly, shelving his concerns for now. “Tono?”

  “¡Vámonos!” He stood and moved to grab hold of Mick’s wheelchair. Their bedroom was on the east side of the house, so it was dark and cool at this time of the day. The morning sun had already passed over their window, and with the wooden shades lowered, it could have been midnight if one didn’t know the actual time. It was a Spanish tradition that Paul loved―siestas in a darkened room. They’d shared many in this bed, and he prayed that they would share many more in the future.

  He and Tono had come to appreciate every single day that Mick survived. Time had become a precious gift, and when they passed the three-year mark without much more deterioration, everyone heaved a sigh of relief. It almost felt like Dr. Jordan’s dire predictions were exaggerated. Nonetheless, they remained ever vigilant, watching for any new signs of the disease.

  Tono’s concerns earlier today were legitimate, and Paul noticed the difficulty Mick had removing his shirt. He had trouble lifting it over his head, so Paul helped him along, pulling up the shirt and sliding off his blue jeans as Tono held him up to facilitate the move. Lastly, the boxers came off, and they put him gently in the middle of the wide bed.

  “Are you comfortable?” Paul
asked, pulling Mick a little closer. They were in their favorite position with Mick in the center. He had an arm and a leg draped over Tono, and he seemed quite content. Paul’s arms circled Mick’s waist.

  “I’m fine,” Mick whispered. “Pauly?”

  “What, babe?” Paul’s voice rose with concern when he heard Mick use that name.

  “When I die, I want to be cremated and have my ashes scattered over La Concha.”

  Tono flipped over immediately and he gazed at Paul over Mick’s head with eyes that were swimming suddenly. He was biting his lip, and Paul could tell that Tono was about to lose it. “Hey, let’s not talk about it today. We have plenty of time.”

  “Promise me,” Mick persisted. “I want you and Tono to have a small party at the bar, and when everyone is good and drunk, make a small caravan toward the beach and scatter me all over the place.”

  “¡Calla!” Tono pleaded, kissing Mick to shut him up. He wouldn’t stop kissing him until Mick began to respond. Paul joined in, starting at Mick’s neck and moving down his back, smearing him with wet kisses that trailed down his torso. He was trying not to think about Mick’s request or the fact that his breathing seemed to falter and his diaphragm heaved dramatically with each breath drawn and exhaled. Paul concentrated on arousing Mick, giving him as much pleasure as possible under the circumstances. He snaked his hand around Mick’s waist and down to rest it on his cock. He was relieved to feel it slowly coming to life, and he rubbed his thumb over the bulbous head that was growing moist with his need. He tugged at the silky organ a few times, and when it pulsed in his hand, he whispered Tono’s name. Tono knew what Paul wanted without asking, and he transferred his attention from Mick’s mouth to his cock. Mick moaned, and Paul took that moment to break away from the pair and slick himself with the lube they kept on each side of the bed.

  He’d discarded the use of condoms three years ago as soon as he’d become an official part of the relationship and testing had been completed to everyone’s satisfaction.

  He positioned Mick so that he was more accessible, never pulling him away from Tono, who continued to suck on him, oblivious to everything else. Tono’s eyes were closed, and he had a blissful look on his face as he serviced his love. Paul nudged Mick’s hole and pushed in gently.

  “Love you,” Mick panted, “love you both so much.”

  Paul felt Mick’s body tighten around him, and he tilted forward, pushing in a little deeper. He held on to Mick’s hip with one hand to get better leverage and find the right angle he needed. Soon, they were thrusting and jerking in unison. Tono’s head bobbed rhythmically while Paul’s hips snapped back and forth. He shifted slightly, and this time he nudged the small gland that made Mick cry out loudly, acting as the switch that sent spasms of pleasure rocketing up and down his spine. Paul felt his balls draw up seconds before he shot in a continuous stream, pumping madly into Mick as the sound of his cries filled the room. Tono swallowed the salty-sweet taste that was Mick, all the while shafting his own cock, which began to pulse quickly, shooting streams of warm sperm all over Mick’s legs. The air was redolent with the odor of sex and the sounds of their satisfaction. They lay entwined, dozing on and off, until one of them finally moved, and everyone stretched, settling back into their favorite spooning positions.

  MICK felt Paul’s soft breath fluttering against his neck as he snored gently, satiated from the good sex. Tono slept as well; the steady rise and fall of his chest reassuring Mick that he too was replete and at peace. He kissed Tono’s back while burrowing closer to Paul’s stomach, snugly cocooned between his two men.

  Tono’s transition from a jealous and possessive lover to a giving partner to the two of them had been the greatest gift Mick had ever received. It made each day a joy, and he’d been able to pour his time and energy into his work with no thought of tomorrow and what was to come. Knowing that the two people he loved more than life also loved each other was the final piece in their human puzzle―critical in giving him the mental stability he needed to face his uncertain future.

  Once they’d worked out the logistics to Tono’s satisfaction, everything fell into place so easily. Paul retained his apartment, of course, and the only one who knew that he seldom slept in his bed at night was Baxter; he would have chosen death before divulging anything. He was as fiercely loyal to Mick and Tono as he was to Paul, now that they were virtually married in every way.

  Mick was relieved when Tono gave up his idea of a novel, as was Paul. Tono’s need to chronicle each event in their life was satisfied with the journal he kept, so he shifted his energy into writing poetry instead. He’d compiled quite a collection through the years, written in Spanish, and most of them were gifts to Mick, marking special occasions. Lately, he’d written some for Paul, presenting them shyly on birthdays and anniversaries. Paul signed Tono as an author, seeking the best Spanish-speaking editor around to help with his work.

  Tonight would be a celebration for them, especially for Paul, who’d overcome his reservations and consented to co-author the screenplay. Mick felt sick when first told about Paul Senior and his cruelty toward Paul all those years ago. It explained so much and yet nothing at all. To think that a few words written without forethought would have such an impact on two lives was unbelievable, but the opportunity to right some wrongs had presented itself in the form of the screenplay, and he’d jumped on it. It had taken a lot of persuasion on his part to change Paul’s mind, but in the end he’d agreed, and the finished product had far exceeded their expectations

  Mick closed his eyes and willed himself to rest. There would be enough time to ponder his immediate future in the days to come. He knew what lay ahead because all the signs were apparent, even though he chose to ignore them and remain silent. Tonight would be a night to remember, and maybe a short nap was all he needed to aid his failing body, give it one last burst of energy before conceding that he was moving on to another level.

  Chapter 31

  THE spotlights lit up the sky near the auditorium, El Kursaal, the current venue for the San Sebastian Film Festival. Onlookers lined the streets hoping to catch glimpses of their favorite movie stars as the limousines inched up to the entrance, unloading beautiful people in designer clothing. Cameras flashed, and starlets posed, eager for their five minutes of fame.

  Mick, Paul, and Tono arrived early and were given access to the rear entrance, due to Mick’s disability status. It made navigation easier and gave them the privacy they needed. Best Screenplay would be one of the first awarded, so rather than sit in the auditorium, they’d opted to wait in the wings offstage so that Paul could push the wheelchair forward when their names were called. They’d already been informed by the committee that their screenplay had won, a foregone conclusion, confirmed by the final figures.

  The theater buzzed with excitement, and Paul rested his hand on Mick’s neck as they looked out at the crowd. There were a few familiar faces; certainly the stars of the movie were recognizable, and they waved at the two men standing beside the handsome writer in the wheelchair. All three were dressed in tuxedos, making them even more attractive than usual.

  Finally, the lights dimmed and the host for the evening stepped out onstage to begin the ceremonies. Tono took advantage of the darkness and bent down to kiss Mick on the cheek, squeezing his arm gently. “Cariño,” he whispered, “te quiero.”

  “I love you too, majo.”

  “Are you feeling okay?” Paul asked as soon as he saw Tono crouching beside

  Mick.

  “I’m fine, sweetheart,” Mick said. Paul nodded but never took his hand off Mick’s neck, letting it rest there possessively.

  “The award for Best Screenplay goes to Mick Henley and co-author Paul Alcott for the movie Running Proud.”

  The applause was deafening as Paul wheeled Mick onstage while Tono watched from his spot on the side. Paul accepted his award, which was shaped like a small shell, a tribute to La Concha, San Sebastian’s most famous beach. The hostess in the black s
trapless gown handed Mick his own award. Paul stepped up to the podium. “Thank you for this honor, but really, I’m just along for the ride.” Paul waited a second as the audience applauded unexpectedly. “Running Proud is the creation of a very special man; one whom I have been fortunate to call my friend for over twenty-two years. Mick and I met when we were in high school, and as they say, the rest is history. I have been privileged and honored to be a part of his world for all this time, and as his publisher and editor, I have shared in his success; he’s made me quite a bit of money,” Paul joked. “Writing a screenplay with Mick was a pleasure, and a learning experience I will always cherish. It’s a dream come true for me, and the continuing dream for my friend over here. So without further ado, I give you Mick Henley.”

  Paul exchanged the small statue that Mick was clutching with both hands for the cordless microphone and stepped back. Mick beamed at him with pride, and Paul impulsively bent down and whispered, “I love you, babe,” just before he went to join Tono in the wings.

  “I just want to take a minute to thank a few people,” Mick began, “and I promise to keep this short, since my editor is watching and waiting to pounce on any useless words.”

  The audience laughed appreciatively.

  “Tonight is a gift in more ways than one,” Mick said. “I’m here against all odds with my best friend and co-author, whose steady influence in my life and my writing has brought me this far. I want to thank you for giving us this award. I hope that you enjoy the movie, which is showing in different theaters throughout the city.”

  The audience began to clap and it went on for a few minutes, giving Mick time to catch his breath. When they quieted down, he continued.

  “Most of you know that I’ve been battling ALS for some time now, and I’ve decided to donate a large portion of the proceeds from this movie and my novel to the ALS Foundation for research.” Mick paused to inhale a somewhat ragged breath. When he began to speak again, he was almost whispering.

  “When I first heard about Lou Gehrig and read his farewell speech delivered at Yankee Stadium, I couldn’t understand how he could say that he was the luckiest man in the world. I had recently been diagnosed, and I thought I was going to die within a few months. Now I know what he was talking about, because I feel the same way.