Gasp!

by Z. A. Maxfield

  “Not your secret lover, then?”

  “What?”

  “Come on. What happened?”

  “None of your damned business.”

  “You won’t say that when I come back with coffee.”

  Mac left the room just long enough for Jeff to finish the water. When Mac returned, he handed over a big steaming mug of coffee, sweet just the way Jeff liked it.

  “I’m sorry, Mac.” God, there’s no better smell than coffee when you feel like shit. “I’m just an asshole these days.”

  “You drink like that in the army?”

  Jeff shook his head. “Nope.”

  “So what the hell, son? You've been drinking too much.” Mac seemed genuinely concerned. “What’s got your balls in a twist?”

  “I got my feelings hurt.”

  Mac blinked. “Say again?”

  “I called Gasp last night, and he was with someone. I got my feelings hurt. Go ahead and laugh.” Jeff pushed the sheet off and sat up, letting his feet hit the floor by the bed with a slap. “It’s hilarious.”

  “Well. I don’t know how these things are with you gays”—Jeff shot him a look at that but Mac went on—“but if I called your mom and she was with someone, I’d be pretty—”

  “It’s not the same. Nigel and I aren’t even… I just lost my shit over nothing. Nigel belongs to the world, and he doesn’t have any problem taking what he wants when he wants it. I knew that going in.”

  “So what does that mean for you?”

  “I don’t know. What should it mean? Nigel’s just being Nigel, is all.”

  “Does he know how you feel about him?”

  “How I feel?”

  “Does he know you get all jealous and shit? Is he aware you’re in love with him?”

  “Who—” Ah Christ, the noise. Jeff lowered his voice. “What the hell makes you think I’m in love with him?”

  “I dunno. I think I saw it written on that bottomless glass of Maker’s Mark you were crying into last night. You were one good line short of a country western song.”

  “I did not cry. You don’t know shit.”

  Mac’s lips thinned. “I know plenty about unrequited love, mister.”

  That brought Jeff up short. “I know you do. I’m sorry.”

  Mac cleared his throat. “I’m going to the movies later. I plan on finding one where people blow shit up. You’re welcome to come along.”

  Noise. Blowing shit up in surround—and annihilate—sound. Not a good choice at the moment. “Maybe after the aspirin takes effect.”

  “I’ll make breakfast.” Mac nodded. “You can grab a shower if you want. There are fresh toothbrushes in the drawer.”

  “Thanks, Mac.”

  Jeff got up and started to make his way to the bathroom. Before he got there, he felt like he ought to say something and turned back. It occurred to him that Mac was family, that his mother and Dee and Katje and even Nigel were exactly what he’d longed for while he lived in relentless secrecy with men and women who refused to accept him as a whole person—people who felt they were doing him a favor by acknowledging the parts of him they liked and turning a blind eye to what they didn’t.

  For once he felt wholly exposed and wholly accepted. Tears burned behind his eyelids. “I mean it. I’m sorry for being a drunk asshole last night—and just…thanks for everything.”

  Nigel’s new phone finally arrived at around two in the afternoon, while he was having lunch at the table in his suite. The first thing he did was send Jeff a quick text. Lost my phone—got another one now.

  Jeff sent him a message back about an hour later. You should look for someone named Randy. That’s who had it when I called.

  Randy? Nigel searched his memory for anything filed under Randy, at least recently. He dialed Jeff’s number.

  Jeff answered without his usual warmth. “Paxton.”

  “I don’t know anyone named Randy.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.” Jeff sounded like he was on the street somewhere. Background noises included traffic and people talking. “Whoever answered when I called yesterday said their name was Randy.”

  “Where are you? You’re hard to hear.”

  “Just getting out of the movies.”

  When Jeff didn’t volunteer anything more, Nigel asked, “What did you see?”

  “Some superhero movie. Lots of explosions. How’d the show go last night?”

  “Crazy. There’s a staircase I’m supposed to descend during the ‘Masques and Illusions’ number while the crew does pyrotechnic effects. I caught the heel of my boot on something and nearly launched myself into a column of flames. Other than that it went fine. I’m hoarse. Can you hear that? It’s my sexy voice. I sound like Kathleen Turner. I’m drinking some herbal tea your sister gave me. Tastes foul but it works.”

  “I can hear that. Look, I’m just leaving the theater, and I’m with someone. Can we pick this up later?”

  Nigel hesitated. Was the irritation in Jeff’s voice for him?

  “Nigel? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. Later is fine. Call whenever.”

  “Talk to you then.” Jeff disconnected.

  Nigel put his phone next to his plate and sat there, thinking hard. A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. He turned to find Deidre looking down at him.

  “What’s up?”

  “Did Jeff say anything to you yesterday about not being able to reach me?”

  “No.”

  “He said someone named Randy had my phone.”

  “I sent the SMS to lock it as soon as you told me it was missing. You didn’t have anything…untoward on the damn SIM card, did you? If you did, then between the time it went missing and this morning when you told me about it—”

  “No. Of course not. It’s clean as a whistle, or rather—” He and Jeff had sent each other some eyebrow-raising images, and he did have some hot photographs. Their messages might be considered naughty. “Nothing hugely incriminating or of an unfavorable nature.”

  “Oh my God. Tell me my brother isn’t going to be in the newest Nigel Gasp sex video on some gossip Web site.”

  “If he is, it won’t have anything to do with my phone. It takes forever, but I have been known to learn from experience.”

  “Thank God for that.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek before sitting down across from him.

  “He didn’t say anything? Like, that something odd happened?”

  “What?” Her expression turned playful. “You mean did he ask me if you had a date for prom yet?”

  Nigel swatted her hand away. “He seemed irritated. I wondered if anything happened. When did you talk to him last?”

  “Yesterday, I guess. In the afternoon. He said I need to remind you that just because I have a new baby, it doesn’t mean I love you less. Mothers have enough love for all their children.”

  Nigel blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. What are you talking about?” One of her eyebrows arched up exactly like Jeff’s.

  “Your brother acted odd, that’s all, and if anyone acts odd between us, it’s usually me. I thought maybe he told you something.”

  “Like what?”

  She was close enough Nigel could smell her shampoo and the slightly different, milky scent she’d carried since Hazard was born. “I can’t explain it. He sounded…distant.”

  Her brown eyes met his and held his gaze, earnest as always. They seemed to say she was there for him, which made him relax fractionally. “Then the next time he calls, I suggest you ask him if there’s anything wrong. I’ve learned that the hard way, you know? Katje’s direct and open, and I…I wasn’t always so good at that. Don’t let something mysterious build up in your head.”

  “Things change. I’m sure that’s all it is.”

  “My brother is as good at being a friend as I am. He’s very good. But unlike me he sucks when it comes to subtext. If you’re worried about something, you need to ask him abou
t it.”

  Ask?

  What should I ask?

  Did I do something to push you away? Besides being on the road and landing in a different city every other night. Besides being caught up in the Nigel Gasp machine.

  Jeff is a thousand miles away. How else should he sound but distant?

  “I’ll feel like an arse.”

  Deidre patted his hand. “You are an arse, so no harm done, eh? New York tomorrow. I have to talk to everyone about the travel arrangements. In the meantime, rest. Recreate. Hot tub. You have interviews and talk shows for three days. It’s back to salmon and veg today, so no ordering hot wings and cheesecake from room service. Lots of water, lay off the salt.”

  “All right. Got it. Mustn’t be puffy.”

  She grinned at him, ready to take the shot, then shook her head. “Nah. Too easy.”

  “I know I am, but what are you?” He flipped her the bird.

  Before she left his room, she glanced back at him. “Maybe you should ask yourself what you expect to happen with someone like Jeff. I got the feeling he came home so he could put down roots. If that’s the case, he might not be content to be one of your many camp followers. He’s making a place for himself after the army, and all this”—she gestured at his posh suite of rooms—“might not be what he’s looking for.”

  “With him around all this would be different. With him I’m different. He knows that, right?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps your reputation precedes you.”

  “I guess so.” Nigel pushed his plate away. Suddenly he wasn’t very hungry.

  “But he knew about all that going in.” She leaned against the door, her gaze thoughtful. He loved that she served any criticism of him with a dollop of love and a smidge of resignation. “I’m happy you found something together. Really. Just don’t…put too much faith in it, okay? You seem to want really different things.”

  After she left the room, Nigel let his phone drop into his jacket pocket. She was right. If Jeff wanted roots, then he deserved thick, strong roots, and Nigel didn’t know the first thing about staying in one place.

  There were more pressing things to think about anyway, like how to be Nigel Gasp when Nigel Hazard seemed to want to make other plans.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jeff was sick to his stomach by the time Mac returned him to his car. He drove home and stripped, crawling between the covers naked. He was thrilled to be somewhere dark and quiet after the movie. Still, every time he moved, his head rang like a gong.

  “Fucking alcohol.”

  Thank heavens it was his day off; he could sleep for twenty-four hours if he wanted to. He drifted mindlessly for a while, until a buzz came from the general vicinity of his jeans on the floor. He got there and picked them up, extricating his phone from his pocket, but he was too late to pick up the call. He rolled over and went back to sleep until, a couple of hours later, it buzzed again, this time on the nightstand, where it clattered against the laminated wood until he picked it up and answered. “Paxton.”

  “It’s me. I thought you were going to call?” Nigel.

  Jeff held the phone away so he could see the time: 2:00 a.m. Three or four in Cleveland, then.

  “I’m sorry.” Jeff meant it. If he said he was going to call, he called—except maybe not if he was busy being an ass. “I drank too much last night, and I paid for it all day. I’ve been sleeping since late afternoon.”

  “You were hung over and you picked an action film? That’s appalling.”

  “The aspirin worked for a while. Did you ever find your phone?”

  “Not yet. But it’s been locked or wiped, or whatever your sister does to keep it private.”

  “That’s good anyway.”

  There was a long pause before Nigel spoke again. “Is something wrong besides that? You sound odd.”

  Jeff didn’t know how to answer. Wrong? No. There wasn’t anything wrong. He’d gotten his heart caught up in the fantasy of Nigel Gasp, and the time had come to face reality. Nigel was Nigel. Jeff could learn to live with that. But there was no point in pretending there was nothing bothering him.

  “There’s nothing wrong. I discovered I don’t necessarily like sharing you with the world at large, but that’s my problem.”

  Nigel gave the apology anyway. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not living in a fantasy world. When that Randy kid said you were in the bathroom getting blown, I wasn’t jealous or anything—”

  “Wait. What?”

  “I just wish I could have met you under different circumstances, that’s all. I wish it could be more like Bluebird Mountain than…whatever this is. Phone calls and e-mails.”

  “Someone told you I was getting blown?”

  “I believe he said you were getting head in the head. Something like that, anyway.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “I’ve seen you party, Nigel. Let’s just say it didn’t come as a surprise.”

  “Well, let this come as a surprise, then. I don’t know who I’m meant to have been getting blown by, but it didn’t occur. I wish I’d been blown. Since I left Bluebird Mountain, it’s been my hand and my earpiece and you, Paxton, and not because there haven’t been offers.”

  “I said it wasn’t a problem, Nigel.”

  “Just what do you mean?”

  “You’re not known for exercising discretion, and that’s just who you are.”

  “Who I am?” Nigel’s voice rose, and Jeff sensed danger ahead.

  “I don’t mean anything by that. You said yourself, there are things stamped on the Nigel Gasp tin, and people expect—”

  “We’re not talking about what other people expect. We’re talking about you, and you know me. What would make you think I’d get some stranger to blow me in the afternoon and then pick up the phone and ring you like I do every night?”

  “I don’t think anything. I was just reporting what Randy said. I called your number, and he said you were getting blown in the bathroom. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Okay, well. Thanks for that. Same goes for you. Go get yourself blown. Let’s enjoy ourselves. We can compare notes.”

  “That’s not—” Jeff frowned, wondering how things always got so far out of hand when Nigel was involved. “I’m not—”

  “Did you find someone to enjoy last night? Is that why you didn’t answer the phone?”

  “I said I was drunk. I’m not proud of it, either, so you can just knock it off. I told you”—Jeff forced himself to swallow around the lump in his throat—“I wish things could be different. I guess you know that. I guess you know how much I wish things could be different, but I can’t see how they could be.”

  He waited while Nigel processed what he’d said. He’d revealed too much, but he always did with Nigel. Or maybe the man simply saw through him. When Nigel spoke again, Jeff heard a kind of wry humor in his voice.

  “You and Deidre are such bright pennies. I don’t know why it still surprises me, since you were minted together.”

  “What the hell does that even mean?”

  “I always know where I stand with Deidre. I think if she were ever to lie to me, I wouldn’t be able to function. It would be a mortal blow.”

  “I hope the same can be said of me. I don’t want to lie to you ever. I just don’t always want you to know the whole truth.”

  “Fair enough.” The soft sound of Nigel’s laughter made its way into Jeff’s ear, and it relaxed every muscle in his body like a drug. “Truth or dare.”

  “Truth,” Jeff said automatically. He always saved Nigel’s dares for later in their conversations, after they’d loosened up and grown comfortable with one another again. Nigel’s dares were the dessert of a conversational meal that fed him emotionally at the end of each day.

  “Were you hurt when you believed I was with someone else?”

  Jeff thought about lying. He thought he could lie credibly. But this time they shared together—the Truth or Dare space they’d established be
tween them—was sacred. He’d no more lie to Nigel in truth or dare than he’d lie in a confessional. “Yes. It hurt.”

  “For the record, there’s been no one but you since we got together.”

  Jeff let that sink in. “For the record, I want you to have everything that could make you happy—even other men—if that’s what you need. I wish—” Jeff stopped before he could say anything really stupid.

  “We both wish things could be different.”

  “Yeah.” Jeff pulled the covers more securely around him. “Truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “What if the situation were reversed and someone told you I was in the bathroom with some other guy?”

  Nigel didn’t speak right away. He finally whispered, “I’d be gutted.”

  “Seriously?”

  “You think I don’t want you all to myself?”

  “Well, sure,” Jeff teased, firmly back on solid ground. “Of course you’d want me all to yourself. Who wouldn’t?”

  “That’s enough of your colossal ego. Truth or dare.”

  “My colossal ego?” Jeff laughed. His mood felt lighter than it had all day. It was like the snap of tension on the solid anchor of a safety rope or the tight grip of a human hand. It was a connection he could feel in his body, down deep within his skin, even in his heart. “Maybe we should try a dare this time.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jeff may have faced some firefights. He may have driven a Humvee over roads pockmarked with IEDs and swarming with people who wanted him dead, but he’d never been as intimidated as he was in Atlanta, wearing a security jacket and an all-access pass to a Nigel Gasp concert at Philips Arena.

  Swarms of people—every demographic, every type of human—inhabited the crowd, from people his mom’s age with grandkids, all wearing ear protection, to dark little pockets of emo kids, to groups of campy gay seniors in halfhearted drag. Security searched bags for booze, drugs, and possible weapons. Some of the things people brought with them were very odd indeed. Jeff had seen security confiscate at least two sword canes and a foam hand whose pointer finger had been replaced by a long, floppy dildo.