Gasp!

by Z. A. Maxfield

  “I’ll be fine. There’s always people there if I need anything.”

  “All right. Call if you need me.”

  Colleen gave his shoulder a fond squeeze. “I’m fine, honey. Getting better every day, so save your worry, okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay.” He watched her leave the room. Nigel’s low hum drew his attention.

  “She is, you know,” Nigel said. “Getting better. Since they put in the stent, she’s been working with a nutritionist and a personal trainer.”

  “I know.”

  “Dee says she hits the gym with frightening regularity. She’ll outlive us all.” He lifted Hazard so they were face-to-face. “Won’t she. Gran’s a dynamo, isn’t she?”

  Jeff watched Nigel with the baby. He liked them together. Hazard brought out an entirely different side of him. Nurturing and unselfish. He doubted Nigel had any idea it was there before Hazard came along. “I didn’t think you could surprise me.”

  “What? Why?” Nigel asked. “Because this little guy has me wrapped around his finger?”

  “He’s good for you.”

  Nigel made faces for the baby, then grinned at him. Delighted, Hazard grinned back and reached for his nose.

  “Hey, ow. Watch it. That’s a pricey nose, there, you,” Nigel teased the baby. “Got it off a plastic surgeon in New York, and he won’t take kindly to you mangling it.”

  “You had a nose job?” Jeff asked.

  “Broke it in a fall down some stairs, maybe fifteen years ago. Still looks the same, but it works.”

  “Hazard looks good on you.”

  “He does? Well. He’s magnificent. So much more fun than a cat. Well, except for the goo. Look at you, blowing bubbles with your nose.” Jeff watched as the baby got hold of Nigel’s arm and mouthed his tattoo. Nigel took a soft cloth from the diaper bag and cleaned Hazard up. “There are so many things one never thinks about. How did I ever live without all these tiny fingers and toes?”

  Jeff watched Nigel play, and the truth hit him like pie in the face. “Nigel…” he barely whispered.

  Nigel ignored him. It was a good thing in a way, because the sudden realization that Hazard was Nigel’s son caused a massive shift in Jeff’s perspective.

  Even if Deidre and Katje hadn’t mentioned it and Jeff’s mom never said the words, it was suddenly, perfectly clear to him that Nigel was Hazard’s biological father. Clear as the nose on both their faces. Clear as the blue eyes and dark hair, the fair skin, the way they simply looked at one another like fun-house mirrors, one old, one young, but both unmistakably the same.

  Nigel knew, obviously, but he’d never bothered to share the information with Jeff.

  Neither had anyone else.

  “You selfish son of a bitch.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “What?” Nigel pulled the baby toward him as though to shield him from Jeff’s harsh words.

  “All that time you were dancing on balcony railings, trying to fall of the rock wall, drinking and partying with your pals from LA, you were just—”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Nigel got up and put some distance between them.

  “What was going on in that head of yours? Was it your plan to deposit your DNA and check out while you were still on top?” Jeff rose and stalked after him. “Do you ever stop to think about anyone but yourself?”

  “I have no idea—”

  “I am such a dickhead. Who else would Deidre ask to be the father of her child?”

  Nigel stilled. “I’m not Hazard’s father.”

  Jeff folded his arms. “The hell you’re not.”

  “All right. Yes.” Nigel’s blue eyes grew dangerously cold. “I was Deidre’s sperm donor, but I’m not Hazard’s father. He has two mothers. He doesn’t have a father.”

  “Yes, he does. And you have a responsibility to him, whether you like it or not.”

  “Of course I do, and he’ll be well taken care of. He’ll never lack for anything, but he’s Deidre and Katje’s child. You can’t tell Deidre you know about this. It’s up to her to decide what to tell people about Hazard’s paternity and when she’ll tell it.”

  Jeff scrubbed his face with both hands. “You know what? You’re right. What Deidre does is up to her, and what you do is up to you, and what I do is up to me.”

  This new knowledge—that Deidre and Nigel had kept such a secret from him—hurt, and he didn’t even really understand why.

  Jeff headed for the bedroom, and Nigel followed, still holding Hazard in his arms. “What do you mean by that?”

  Jeff pulled his things from the drawers, shoving them into his pilot case. “I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I know this isn’t it.”

  “I have no idea what you’re—”

  “Yes, you do. One minute you’re Nigel Hazard, the next you’re Nigel Gasp. I turn around and you’re in drag. I come here to be with you, and instead of spending time with me, you party all night with strangers. You’re Hazard’s father, but you act like it has nothing to do with you.” He left for the bathroom to pick up his shaving kit and toothbrush. “Maybe I’m just not sophisticated enough to understand your world.”

  “Don’t be facile,” Nigel snapped. “If a lesbian couple wants to have a child, they have that right.”

  Jeff turned and stared down at him. “That I get. That I support. But you want to donate your sperm as a last hurrah and get yourself killed and I’m supposed to say that’s okay too, is that it? You want to drink and party all night and blow off your family and expect us to be waiting when you get home, have I got that right?”

  “What?” Nigel pulled Hazard so close he fussed.

  “Here’s a tip, Nigel. The big yellow thing all the planets revolve around? That isn’t you.”

  “Wait, you’re one to talk. This has nothing to do with you. Deidre doesn’t have to ask your permission to have a baby, and I didn’t even know you when Hazard was conceived.”

  “It’s not about me. I don’t even know what it’s about, but I’m angry, goddamn it. Grow up, Nigel.” Jeff got a grip on the handle of his pilot case. “You’re Hazard’s father, and you’re fucking around like a cartoon character. You are part of a family. You have a son who will want to know you. Hazard will want you to be part of his life, whatever you and Deidre believe, and if you can’t step up for that, I can’t see you’d step up for anything.”

  “Jeff—”

  “I lost my dad.” Jeff stopped. “It was the worst event of my entire life, and I’ve been a soldier in a fucking combat zone, so that’s saying something.”

  “I know.” Nigel held the baby in the crook of one arm and used his free hand to pull the case from Jeff’s hand. “I know you lost your father.”

  Jeff let it go with only a brief tug. “Maybe because you never knew your father you don’t know what it’s like.”

  “Oh, piss off.” Nigel looked so pained Jeff winced. “I know your family was close. I know how hard it was to go through a long illness like your father’s. But don’t tell me it’s easier to never have a father than to lose one. That’s simply insulting.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” Jeff tried to find something to look at that wasn’t Nigel, holding Hazard in his arms. “The day my dad died…sometimes I think I must have shut down. It was as if I stumbled and ever since then I feel like if I just keep moving forward, I’ll find my balance again. But it hasn’t happened yet and I—”

  “It must have been very hard.” Nigel caught Jeff’s wrist.

  “I still don’t remember much from that time. Since then I’ve mostly steered clear of emotional situations.”

  Nigel’s eyed him. “You do marvelous things with anger, if our acquaintance is anything to go by.”

  Jeff flushed. “You make me angrier than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “That’s something, I guess.”

  “It’s probably not a very healthy thing.”

  Nigel waved that off. “I’m willing to work with it.
”

  Jeff raked a hand through his short hair. “I don’t know why you love this circus so much, but I hate it. You can say Nigel Gasp is a character you play, but fatherhood isn’t a role you can turn on and off. Family isn’t either, and neither am I. You can say you’re a hostage to what the world expects from you, but I think you need your fame too much to let it go, even for a little while. Even for something as important as”—Jeff looked pointedly at Hazard—“everything you give up for it.”

  Two sets of blue eyes blinked back at Jeff, equally unfathomable.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Nigel said at last. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.”

  “I’m not hurt, exactly…” Jeff didn’t know what he was.

  “Disappointed?” Nigel supplied. “Now that you’ve found out what a shallow bastard I really am?”

  “Maybe.” Jeff lifted his gaze from the baby to Nigel. “Something like that.”

  Nigel let out a long, tired sigh. “I knew this was coming, but I didn’t think it would hurt quite this much.”

  “What was coming?”

  “The moment when you decide I’m not worth the trouble.”

  “Christ, Nigel. Did you ever stop to think you might have caused the very thing you’re worried would happen?”

  Nigel scowled. As soon as he did it, the expression found its echo on Hazard’s face. “I’m not an idiot. I know I push people away.”

  “Then why do you do it? What are you getting out of it?”

  Nigel glanced away. “I don’t know.”

  “I didn’t come a thousand miles to watch you grind up against some other guy’s ass on the dance floor last night. Why did you do that when I know you wanted to be with me?”

  “I don’t know, all right? I just don’t know. Habit.” Nigel looked miserable, and Jeff’s heart went out to him. He doubted Nigel had an answer for half the things he did. Nigel seemed to act first and ponder later.

  “You’re going to have to figure it out. You have to change something to get a different outcome. You know that, right?”

  “What can I change? You’re already walking out the door. You’re leaving and I—”

  “Ask me to stay, Nigel.” Jeff stepped forward.

  “What?” Blue eyes lifted. Jeff met Nigel’s gaze with affection, even though he was exasperated as hell. Maybe that’s just how it would be between them.

  “Ask me to stay.” Jeff advanced until he was close enough to put his arms around both Nigel and the baby. He kept his voice low but urgent. “Tell me you need me. Tell me I mean something more to you than some guy you’re grinding on at a club. Tell me I’m special to you.” Did I just say all that? Jeff closed his eyes. “Tell me, Nigel, and I’ll unpack.”

  “Please, please stay,” Nigel whispered. “I need you here.”

  Jeff’s heart sank at the word need, but he didn’t say anything. Nigel probably didn’t understand the difference between I need you and you’re special to me. He always framed things that way, not you’re important, but I need you.

  It seemed like such a little thing. A subtle play of words. Semantics. Jeff felt his heart shutter closed again—like opening it had been a limited-time offer and it had expired.

  But he let himself be drawn back into Nigel’s embrace and pressed his forehead to Nigel’s, and they cradled the baby between them.

  When his mother came back from the gym, she took Hazard and left. Nigel was exhausted but still keyed up, so they went back to bed and made love until Nigel finally drifted off to sleep.

  Jeff held Nigel in his arms for a long time, simply watching while he slept. Holding Nigel felt as good as anything he’d ever known.

  It felt right, but it wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t all he wanted. He’d worked hard, been a good man and a good soldier, and he’d earned more. At least he thought he had.

  Did he have the right to ask for the total package? A home and a lover who didn’t have to be the sun to his moon, who wanted the same kind of life Jeff wanted and maybe even a family of their own some day?

  How would Nigel react if Jeff had the courage to ask for what he really wanted?

  Nigel curled into Jeff’s body, full of affection and trust. All Jeff had to do was run a finger over Nigel’s cheekbone or down his jawline and Nigel would turn his head, pushing his face into the caress. Sometimes Jeff got a sleepy kiss, or he’d provoke the lift of an eyelid so that when Nigel’s eyes opened, his lips would curve up in the barest smile.

  Jeff dropped a kiss on Nigel’s warm, sleep-flushed forehead and closed his own eyes. He could sleep anywhere, but suddenly it felt like a damn shame to waste the limited time he had to spend with Nigel sleeping. A simple change of balance pressed Nigel down into the mattress. Nigel’s eyes opened, and his body shifted, warm and welcoming. Jeff slid between Nigel’s thighs and gripped his ass in the palms of his hands.

  “Hello, sunshine.” Nigel lifted his face for a deep, tender kiss. “You be Professor Discipline, and I’ll be Head Boy.”

  Jeff finally fell asleep a little before suppertime.

  How was it possible for Nigel to do his show on an outdoor stage in weather this cold? Goose bumps rose on Jeff’s arms, and the tips of his fingers grew pale. Unlike Philips Arena, the stage where Nigel sang was open to the elements. It was comprised of a massive metal cage and tarps. Where the canopy was lashed down, wind clawed at the straining fabric.

  The sky darkened as storm clouds converged and roiled overhead. The temperature dropped from minute to minute. Jeff glanced around and saw that Nigel’s security team was in place, but no one had dressed for the weather, nor did they appear to have a plan for what to do if the sky opened up during Nigel’s show. They looked nervous from Jeff’s position, half a football field away from the stage.

  Nigel kept the audience riveted as he sang his signature finale, “Light a Candle.” Larger images of him from every angle took up space on the half dozen jumbo screens behind him. Special-effects lighting strobed and throbbed, spinning with the music, dotting the audience with colors that swirled and eddied over their moving bodies. Phones lit up, held high, along with lighters.

  Jeff took a step forward, noting for the first time that the earth beneath his feet crackled with frost. He looked down and frowned because the ground appeared icy, as though they were all standing on the surface of a frozen lake. Slowly he became aware of a new sound, something that barely dented his consciousness at first—the drone of engines. Confusion filled him while he tried to find the source of the sound.

  Suddenly, with the unmistakable low pop and hiss of RPG fire, the rear of the stage exploded. Sparks flew, and a fireball climbed high enough to set the canopy alight. Fans screamed as flames engulfed Nigel’s backup singers. Jeff broke into a run, heading toward the stage, hampered by panicked audience members and desperate security guards. Smoke obscured his vision. He tried calling Nigel’s name, but Nigel either didn’t hear him or he wanted to keep singing. Whatever the reason, Nigel didn’t miss a beat. Deidre materialized in Jeff’s peripheral vision, running toward Nigel with Hazard in her arms.

  “Dee, get down.” Jeff screamed the words, but she didn’t hear him. “We’re taking fire.”

  Terror transformed her face. It didn’t even seem odd when she shouted, “Muzzle flash at twelve o’clock, on the rocks across the gorge. Twelve o’clock, Paxton.”

  Jeff’s ran, shoving people out of the way until he made it to the stage. He held his arms up for Nigel. “Jump.”

  Nigel looked down and shook his head. “I can’t stop the show.”

  “You have to stop; it’s not safe. Deidre, come here.” Another explosion rocked the stage, and the entire structure tilted with a tremendous, twisted metal groan. “Nigel!”

  Jeff shielded his face against the searing heat of a final explosion. He flinched away from the flames and destruction. Nigel, Deidre, and Hazard disappeared, gobbled up by fire, buried under a mountain of wrecked metal and flaming canvas. The ground where Jeff stood cracke
d, spiderwebbing outward in a thousand different directions, disintegrating under his feet.

  “Nigel!” Jeff shot up in bed.

  “What the hell?” Nigel sat up. He looked like he’d been pulled through a keyhole by his hair.

  “God…” Jeff had to swallow a couple times before he could speak again. “Dream.”

  “Do you often have nightmares like that?”

  “Yes.” Nigel stroked Jeff’s hands where he clutched the coverlet. “Sometimes they’re worse than others.”

  “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I need a drink.” Jeff rose from the bed and left the room. Nigel followed behind him, naked, entirely unselfconscious. Jeff sighed. “You want something?”

  “Please.”

  Jeff poured two glasses and handed one to Nigel.

  “How often does this happen?”

  “I don’t know. Often.”

  Nigel gripped his glass without taking a drink. “Maybe—”

  “I don’t have PTSD. I’m fine.”

  “I was only going to say maybe you should see a psy—”

  “I don’t need a shrink. If you’d been through what I’ve been through, you’d have goddamn nightmares too.” Jeff took his drink and sank into a club chair. “That’s what happens. I deal with it. I’m not losing my shit over a couple of bad dreams.”

  “Jeff, I’m not saying you are, but—”

  “If I go to the VA shrinks, you know what happens? I have to talk about my shit, blah, blah, blah; then they give me some kind of happy drug. Drugs can’t fix the past, right? Neither can scooping my painful shit out like pumpkin guts so everyone can see how fucked up I am.”

  “Pumpkin guts?”

  “My mom used to say the past is where God put it for a reason.”

  “And while I admire your mother—you know I do—you just woke up screaming, and that isn’t normal.”

  Jeff eyed him coolly. “If that bothers you, I’ll sleep alone.”

  “The hell you will.” Nigel pulled Jeff’s glass from his hand and hurled it against the wall so hard it exploded into a million crystal fragments. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I will bring all the forces of both your mother and your sister to bear if you don’t get some bloody help.”