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A Total-E-Bound Publication
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Sins of Autumn Anthology
ISBN # 978-0-85715-807-9
Hail Storm ©Copyright D.J. Manly 2011
Full ©Copyright A.J. Llewellyn 2011
Autumn Quest ©Copyright Serena Yates 2011
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright November 2011
Edited by Stacey Birkel
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination
and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or
places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form,
whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of
the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound
Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil
proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs
and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator
of the artwork.
Published in 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL,
United Kingdom.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature
readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-sizzling and a sexometer of 1.
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SINS OF AUTUMN ANTHOLOGY
Hail Storm
D.J. Manly
Full
A.J. Llewellyn
Autumn Quest
Serena Yates
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Book two in The Seven Deadly Sins Series
The seven deadly sins: lust, wrath, greed, gluttony, envy, pride and sloth.
The Sins of Autumn weaves a general thread of revelation loosely tying these tales together.
Wrath, gluttony and pride are explored in these hot m/m tales involving action, burning hot
sex and out-of-this-world adventures that will leave you hoping for cooler weather—soon!
‘Hail Storm’ by D.J. Manly
D.J. Manly tackles the sin of wrath in ‘Hail Storm’.
Chance and his buddies adore the band Hail Storm so much they form a tribute band in their
honour—never knowing that Chance has a bigger connection to the lead singer of the group
than he is aware of. At a fan reunion for the band, Chance finally meets the members of Hail
Storm, and a secret related to Chance’s health years before is revealed.
Whisked into the world of rock ‘n roll, Chance will become torn between Hail, the brother he
never knew, and the enigmatic Storm, to whom he is gradually losing his heart. Can he risk
his brother’s wrath and confess the torrid affair he is having with the man Hail loves, or will
Chance abandon Storm in order to keep his brother’s love?
‘Full’ by A.J. Llewellyn
A.J. Llewellyn explores the sin of gluttony in ‘Full’.
Barney Calloway is a super-successful voice over actor in Hollywood. He is, however,
extremely overweight. He has struggled with his weight his whole life. Things come to a
head when he demolishes half his sister’s birthday cake before she can even set eyes on it.
Leaving her house after her party is over, he finds a business card tucked under his
windshield wiper saying one word.
Full.
On the reverse side of the card is a toll-free number, which, out of curiosity he calls. A
woman’s voice tells him his order has been processed. Order? What order? He goes home
and falls asleep, waking in the morning to find he’s lost a hundred and three pounds. He’s
gone from being a lard ass to a hot ass and nothing will be the same again…unbelievably, the
changes aren’t necessarily for the better. His family members all react weirdly and an old
love, Diego, really struggles with the new Barney. Will Barney ever have the life and the love
he craves? And will he ever really feel…full?
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‘Autumn Quest’ by Serena Yates
In ‘Autumn Quest’, Serena Yates tackles the sin of pride.
The parchment thief has been stealing books and scrolls all over Naiman, but when he
manages to enter the Royal Library, the Khan’s patience runs out. He decides it is time for a
change of tactics and puts his youngest son, Bayar, in charge of solving the mystery of the
thief’s identity. Bayar is as surprised about this as about the fact he is going to have a
guardian—the ruggedly attractive Chinux.
Chinux is a bounty hunter of some renown and very much his own man. He relishes the
challenge of finding the parchment thief and bringing him to justice, even if he has to
‘babysit’ the youngest prince in the process. When Bayar and Chinux discover the thief’s
identity, they are shocked.
Will the quest to find and bring him to justice tear them apart or bring them closer together?
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HAIL STORM
D.J. Manly
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Dedication
This story is dedicated to those who save lives by donating their organs. Please, sign your
organ donor card and give life.
Wrath is the seventh of the seven deadly sins. One has to wonder, when those guys decided
on which sins to include in the list, if this one was actually an afterthought.
Apparently wrath is not a sin when it is in response to pain. So go ahead, swear wrath
on someone who caused you pain. It’s the steps taken after the pain has subsided which are
considered a sin—the path of vengeance. But what about loving someone so much that you’d
do anything to stop their wrath? Is that a sin too? You will have to decide that for yourself.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Jack Daniels: Brown Forman Corporation
Toyota: Toyota Motor Corporation
Levis: Levi Strauss & Co.
Gibson: Gibson Guitar Corporation
Fender: Fender Musical Instruments Corporation
Rickenbacker: Rickenbacker International Corporation
Harmony Metro: Harmony Guitar Company, Inc.
HAIL STORM
D.J. Manly
8
Prologue
Before the Beginning
When one comes as close to death as I have, life suddenly feels acutely precious. When
you’re twelve, you don’t think about death a hell of a lot…and really you shouldn’t have to.
But when I was twelve, all I thought about was death. You see, I needed a bone marrow
transplant and no one in the family was compatible. When repeated attempts to find a match
failed, and I could feel my life slipping away a little more each day, a miracle happened. I
didn’t know where the donation came from and I didn’t really care. The entire thing was
shrouded in mystery. When I recovered, I had questions about my unsung hero but never
really got any clear answers. The only thing I did know for sure was that whoever donated
the bone marrow had literally given me back my life. I was forever in debt…to a shadow.
As the years passed, I thought about my close brush with death less and less but I never
forgot I carried a little piece of that donor inside me. How could I forget the hell of waiting
for the right donor to appear as I lay in a hospital bed and felt my life slowly drain away?
I commissioned the writing of the story you are about to read to honour the shadow I
spoke of earlier. I already have fame and fortune and I know now that these things are worth
nothing compared to love. I thought maybe if this story got told, and the men I love most in
this world read it, they’d understand I never meant to hurt anyone. I love them both so
much.
It’s ironic. I’m still a young man and already I’ve lost the two most important people in
the world to me. I’m not sure how to live the rest of my life without them.
I know now that my father had no way of knowing that the son he threw away would
become a phenomenon. Practically the entire world knows Hail Dean, lead singer in Hail
Storm, the hottest rock band on the planet. What they don’t know about Hail, however, is
that his mother raised him alone. They struggled, while his biological father ignored his
existence and started another family. That family included my mother and Dad, both
surgeons, and me. I had everything, of course—a big house with a pool, a sports car for my
sixteenth birthday, and vacations to Europe every summer. My parents loved me a lot. They
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9
gave me security, affection and freedom. My life was a pleasure cruise, while the older
brother I didn’t know existed took odd jobs when he was a kid to help put food on the table.
When I was dying, my father secretly sought out his abandoned son and asked him to
save the life of a brother he didn’t know he had.
As I write these words, there are tears streaming down my face. You’ll understand why
when you read the rest of this story. Right now I can’t tell you if my story has a happy
ending. Keep your fingers crossed.
It’s ironic. I had always been one of Hail Storm’s biggest fans. However, without the
contribution of Danson Storm the band suffers, and their popularity wanes.
I grew up with Hail Storm playing accompaniment to all the important moments in my
life. They were there during my first real masturbation session, alone in my room, and
harmonised when I kissed my first boy…keeping me focused on something other than the
fact that I was different at high school dances. I can remember cruising through Greenwich
Village with Pete and Jackson, in my brand new sports car, on my sixteenth birthday. My
best friends and I cat-called to all the hot guys on the streets while Hail Storm rocked out to
On Your Knees at full volume through the open windows. That song is one of my favourites
and every time I hear it I think of that cool, summer evening.
I worshipped this band, and so did Pete and Jackson. At fourteen, the three of us, who
were high on the fantasy of becoming famous rockers, formed a tribute band. We weren’t
very good but it didn’t matter. We’d mostly lip sync and go through the motions, and by
some miracle we won the school talent contest in our last year of high school. By that time I’d
even picked up a bit of the guitar and could actually sing along with the recordings in my
own voice. My parents were not keen on the rock star idea. I think they thought I’d outgrow
it. They expected me to study hard and eventually go to medical school. All the family
needed was another doctor! They didn’t nag me too much, though, because, in spite of the
time I spent rocking, I got good marks. I suppose it was good genes.
Every spare moment found me devoting myself to perfecting my impersonation of Hail.
I became quite good at it. People began to tell me I sang just like him, and, as I matured,
some said I looked like him too. I was really flattered. Hail was a handsome guy—tall with a
slim build, ash blond hair and blue eyes.
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D.J. Manly
10
For the talent show, we had costumes made to look like the band. I was Hail, my best
friend Jackson was the drummer, Eddie Sacks, and Pete played the bass, impersonating Ivan
Donaldson. None of us were professional musicians but we did okay.
However, there was one member of Hail Storm conspicuously missing from our
entourage and that was Danson Storm, the lead guitarist. We didn’t even attempt to try and
find someone to impersonate him. Storm was sacred in the world of rock ‘n’ roll. He was a
rock god. Everyone thought the heavens opened when he played a guitar solo. He was also
sex on a stick.
Storm played the starring role in most of my erotic dreams. I fell asleep staring at his
glossy pictures in the music magazines most nights. He was hands down the best rock
guitarist on the face of the earth as far as we were concerned…and he was hot!
This story really begins with Jackson’s little sister Maggie, who developed the biggest
crush on me the minute she discovered puberty. The night of the talent contest, she filmed
our performance and then, without telling us, uploaded the video to the Internet. We were
flabbergasted when we saw the video and even more astonished when it began to get hit
after hit. Then someone in Jersey suggested that die-hard fans of Hail Storm should dress up
like their favourite band members and come together in a field somewhere for a weekend to
celebrate their music. We were stars, three boys from nowhere, and we’d instigated a fan
reunion. The frenzy over the fan reunion grew and a date was set for late summer. We were
really excited—my father, not so much.
My father expected me to get a job at the hospital that summer, not lay around in a field
somewhere listening to Hail Storm. Initially, he didn’t know about the video, or our
performance in the talent show. He’d been away on a conference and couldn’t attend. My
mother came, however, and had a blast.
When the video appeared on the six o’clock news and people started to call the house,
my father hit the roof. “Why in the hell do you do these things? It’s ridiculous to waste your
time pretending to be some rock and roll singer.”
“I like Hail Storm. Everyone does. They play good music. It’s fun. You remember fun,
don’t you?”
I never really understood back then what my dad had against that group. He had no
problem with any other rock band I listened to. When he was younger, he’d attended a lot of
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D.J. Manly
11
metal concerts. He’d even pasted all the ticket stubs into a scrapbook. But Hail Storm he
despised. When I demanded to know why he hated the greatest band in the world, he told
me that it was because I was ‘obsessed with that band’—that my obsession distracted me
from things I needed to do in life. I didn’t buy that because I still met all my obligations in
spite of the time I spent on my ‘obsession’. It was a personal vendetta he had and it made no
sense.
He was really pissed off about my going that weekend in August to the fan reunion, but
he couldn’t stop me because I was eighteen.
I took a job cleaning shit at the hospital to please him but arranged to have that
weekend off, changing shifts with another cleaner. Jackson, Pete and I planned to drive out
Friday afternoon at four o’clock and come back Sunday night so that we could all go back to
our summer jobs. Jackson was working in the garden centre at a big hardware store. He took
the afternoon off, owing to a ‘dentist appointment’. Pete asked his uncle at the garage to get
off early, and luckily he was cool with it.
We were so happy that night. We laughed and sang all the way out into the
countryside. I had no idea that lightning was about to strike me in a way I had never dreamt
possible.
So here’s my story. Try not to judge me too harshly. I was swept away by passion, but
soon you’ll know it was more than that. It was love—still is. And I suffer for my crime. I can’t
stand the fact that maybe Hail hates me, because I love him very much. I love him almost as
much as I do the other half of Hail Storm—the half that won’t let me sleep at night. I wish I
could just switch it off, but it’s like a toothache. It’s punishment for betrayal. There is no
other word for what we’ve done. I’ve lost a brother. He’s lost a best friend. Unless hate
somehow can be transformed into forgiveness, there will be no happy ending.
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HAIL STORM
D.J. Manly
12
Chapter One
The Beginning
When Hail Storm came to New York the first time, Chance was only thirteen years old.
The year before, he’d been stuck in the hospital, waiting to die. His parents were extremely
protective of him ever since he’d got his second chance at life. Although it annoyed the hell
out of him, he understood. What he didn’t understand was why his father was so against
anything that specifically had to do with Hail Storm. Chance had saved all his allowance for
six months to purchase a ticket to their show. He did odd jobs and had even secretly skipped
his lunch on occasion. When the box office opened, Chance got there early in the morning
before school, knowing he’d find himself at the back of a long line because people had been
camping out all night waiting for tickets. He racked his brain in order to come up with a
good excuse for missing his morning classes.
He purchased the cheapest ticket. It was way up in the rafters but it didn’t matter. He’d
be in the same room with them. He was still so damn excited he couldn’t concentrate on
anything except that damn ticket. As for his dad, he figured if he bought the ticket he’d have
to let him go.
He was wrong.
His father said no, and Chance knew by the way he said it, he really meant it. He even
cancelled his shift at the hospital that night so that he could take Chance to a movie instead.
Chance knew it was his way of making sure he didn’t sneak out and go to the show despite
his father’s objections.
Chance was miserable. He even cried bitter tears and refused to go to the movie. He
locked himself in his room, hating his father and vowing never to forgive him. His mother
tried talking to his father before she left for work that night. She told him some of Chance’s
other friends were going with their parents and he could get a ride there and back. “It’s
perfectly safe,” she said. “Why won’t you let him go?”
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D.J. Manly
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His father wouldn’t budge. Even his mother found it hard to explain. Chance knew she
felt sorry for him but that didn’t make him feel any better. His heroes were in the same city
and he even had a ticket to the show, yet he couldn’t go. It was too cruel.
Jackson and Pete couldn’t go, either, but that was because their parents weren’t doctors,
and they had no money to fork over for tickets. Chance would have given his ticket to one of
them but he knew it wasn’t fair to choose one over the other, so instead the ticket sat on his
bureau, unused. Chance’s two best friends stood together outside the stadium, watching the
limo speed into the underground parking lot. Pete called him on his cell phone to tell him
about it.
* * * *
It was wacky and bizarre, yet really wonderful in its own way. Chance never expected
that their performance at a school talent contest would lead to hundreds of people
wandering around in a field somewhere dressed up like members of Hail Storm. Still, none
of them had been to a Hail Storm concert. Circumstances had always seemed to work against
them.
No one could have guessed that an amateurish video, shot in a dimly lit high school
auditorium, would capture the imagination of a host of Hail Storm fans, prompting them to
come together in a farmer’s field outside New York. Shortly after the video became popular,
they were interviewed by all the local media. “We’re celebrities,” Jackson exclaimed. “I’ve
got girls crawling all over the place.”
Jackson was bisexual. He’d experimented but he leaned more towards girls. Pete and
Chance were into guys. They jokingly told Jackson he could have their share of the female
groupies. His response was, “You can have all the guys…except I want the ones who look
like Danson Storm.”
They were all really excited that Friday afternoon when they headed out of town in a
minivan borrowed from Pete’s older brother. They were all talking in bursts about the
comments on the Internet site, while Hail Storm’s latest CD blared in the background.
“Do you think the television people will be there?” Pete asked, following Jackson’s
directions as Jackson traced his finger along the map.
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“I imagine,” Chance replied. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that cute DJ again.”
“He was hot,” Pete said.
Jackson laughed. “You guys—sex, sex, sex.”
“Right,” Chance scoffed. “What about you with that receptionist from the television
station?”
Pete was laughing as Jackson protested.
Suddenly they began to hit traffic and they had to slow their speed. So far the trip had
taken around two hours, and they were almost there. As they turned up a dirt road towards
the site, they were awestruck to see the number of people who were already tramping
through the field. Pete looked for a parking space and pulled the minivan to the side of the
road when he found an opening. “Guess we’ll park here. We’ll have to haul the stuff down
by hand.”
Jackson got out and showed the other two his biceps. “No sweat.”
Chance rolled his eyes.
Hail Storm clones milled around, and in the distance they could see a multitude of
tents. An array of vehicles, including small trailers and media vans, was strewn everywhere,
some parked under trees. As the three of them trucked on through the field with the cooler,
the tents and the sleeping bags, some people were arranging equipment on a huge stage set
up off to the side. A sound system blared out If I Could Ever Let You Go…Hail Storm’s latest
hit.
“What about this spot here?” Pete asked, pointing to a nice, flat piece of ground in the
open.
“Great,” Jackson said. “One of you make a fire and someone help me put the tents up.”
An hour later, the tents were up and Chance had started a fire. Pete got hot dogs out of
the cooler, and Jackson started roasting them on a spit. More and more people began to
arrive. “It’s like Woodstock,” Pete announced.
“Yeah,” Chance said, “it is. All of us being here to worship Hail Storm really is wild.”
“Pete is going granola on us,” Jackson teased.
They all laughed.
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People began to come by and say hello, recognising them from the video. “Hey man,”
one guy told them, “you’re the reason we’re all here. What a great idea. Cool video. Stage is
set up. Hope you guys brought your instruments. Get up and play something.”
“Ah,” Pete shook his head, “we didn’t come to play.”
“Anyway, stage is free,” the guy said.
The three of them laughed after the guy walked away. “There is no way I’m getting up
there,” Chance said.
“I can’t play someone else’s drums,” Jackson offered as an excuse, though they all knew
he could.
“I didn’t bring my guitar anyway,” Chance shrugged. “I just want to listen to the best.”
People from the media stopped by and interviewed them briefly. Strangers came and
sat around the fire with them as well. Some people played guitar, others told stories. One girl
sat beside Chance and told him about her experiences at a Hail Storm concert. “I saw them in
L.A. two years ago. I had really good seats.”
Chance was hanging on her every word. “What was it like, seeing them up close?”
“Surreal. I threw a rose on stage. Hail took it in his teeth. He walked over on the stage
to Storm and Storm took it from him…with his teeth. Wow. It was like they were kissing, you
know. It was so hot. I could picture the two of them in bed.”
The speculation over the sexuality of Hail Storm’s two front-men had long been
debated. It was rumoured, but never confirmed, that Hail and Storm were lovers.
“I’d love to see them in bed together,” she licked her lips. She placed a hand on
Chance’s thigh. “You look like Hail.”
Chance cleared his throat. “Thanks. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen any good Storm
clones or maybe I could help you with that fantasy.” He met her eyes.
She got the message. “Oh,” she removed her hand, “that’s cool. Sorry.”
“No problem.”
She stayed talking to him for a little while longer then left. She was looking for far more
than he could give her. He couldn’t blame her. Chance was having a great time anyway,
refusing to dwell on the huge fight he’d had with his father the night before. He hadn’t even
told Jackson and Pete about it. His father had been angry at him ever since the media had
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started coming around and interviewing them about that video. Chance hated fighting with
his father all the time. It never used to be this way.
* * * *
Later that evening when he was sitting there alone dozing by the fire, a clone of Hail
came walking over. Pete and Jackson had decided to wander around a little but Chance just
wanted to sit by the fire and listen to the sweet music coming out of the loudspeakers. He’d
had a few beers and the cool night air was making him drowsy.
The voice, silky soft and low, caused him to open his eyes suddenly. “You’re
Chance…Chance Laurence, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Chance stood. It was amazing how many people recognised him from that
video. He narrowed his eyes. There were a lot of people trying to impersonate Hail, but this
guy really looked like Hail. It was uncanny. “You saw the video?”
“Yes. You sing really well, but you should stop trying to be Hail and do your own
stuff.”
Chance looked into blue eyes—as blue as his own. The guy smiled but Chance didn’t
smile back. He was more than a little pissed off at the comment. It wasn’t exactly a
compliment.
Before he could reply, the guy added, “You’ve got what it takes—talent, drive, good
looks—but you don’t have the voice for rock. Your voice is pure pop.”
Chance narrowed his eyes. He was thinking that if this guy was trying to pick him up,
he wasn’t doing a very good job. “I think you just insulted me.”
“No, man, I gave you a compliment. You do me fine but you’d do yourself better, you
know?”
“And you think you’re some kind of an authority on that, do you?”
“I could be. I’m Hail.”
“Right. Sure. You’re taking this shit a little seriously, aren’t you?”
“Why’s that?”
“You talk like you’re the real thing.”
“I am the real thing.” He winked at him. “See you later.”
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Chance watched him walk away and shook his head. “Yeah, you wish,” he scoffed.
“What a freak.”
“Who’s a freak?” Jackson asked walking back over to the campfire.
“That guy I was talking to. He thinks he’s really Hail.”
“He’s not the only one. I met a few, I tell you,” Jackson announced. “Been smoking a
few too many drugs.” They both laughed.
“Don’t see a lot of good imitations of Storm Danson, though,” Jackson cracked open a
bottle of beer and handed it to Chance.
Chance took a swig. “He’s one of a kind.”
Peter joined them now, overhearing the comment. He nudged Chance in the ribs. “If we
drink a few more, I’m sure we’d find someone who’d do in a pinch.”
“Oh yeah!” Chance laughed, placing an arm around his shoulders.
Someone turned up the loudspeakers suddenly. People were dancing, and a variety of
musicians started getting up to play and sing. All of the songs were Hail Storm hits. Some of
the singers were quite good, others sucked big time, but the crowd didn’t really care. It was
all in fun and they clapped and cheered anyway. Chance had to admire the people for
getting up there on that stage. It took guts and there was a huge crowd of people.
Chance moved closer to the stage with Pete and Jackson. They brought a blanket, found
a place to sit under a tree, and started singing along with the music. More people came by to
chat with them, complimenting them on the video. They got offered the occasional joint and
some Jack Daniels. By midnight, all three of them were feeling no pain, laughing and dancing
around as the music blared out into the night.
Then men started moving more equipment onto the stage and Jackson pointed, “Hey, it
looks serious this time.”
“That’s some serious shit, man,” Pete observed.
When four men took the stage around one in the morning, most people in the crowd
were quite intoxicated. The music blasted out from the speakers. Within a few minutes, the
people in the crowd got really quiet…then the screaming began.
People literally started running in the direction of the stage. Chance and his friends
moved forwards with the momentum, not quite sure what was going on.
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When a voice called out over the microphone, “We’re here for you, our greatest fans.
Let’s rock,” Chance’s heart began to pound hard in his chest. He clutched Pete’s arm and
said, “Oh my God, it’s really them.”
A roar went up in the crowd. Some people got hysterical and a bunch of strong guys
started tossing people off the stage left and centre. Chance stood there dumbfounded, just
staring. Jackson and Pete were stunned as well. And then it really hit him—after all this time,
finally…he was in the presence of Hail Storm.
Chance’s gaze settled on Danson Storm. The pounding in his chest grew obscenely
loud. Chance’s fantasy had come to life. Sweat rolled down Danson’s sweet face, and tight
jeans hugged his amazing hips. There he was—guitar in hand—in the flesh.
Soon Chance and his friends were screaming and jumping up and down like everyone
else. The music went on for at least an hour then stopped. The band members waved
goodbye and scurried off the stage and into a cocoon of men who formed a shield leading to
a space under the stage.
When someone grabbed Chance’s arm, he turned around to see a man with the face of a
bulldog. “Come with me,” he shouted over the roar of the crowd. “Bring your friends if you
want.”
The man dragged him forwards and Chance stumbled through the drunken spectators,
bumping into everyone. He wasn’t sure what was going on. There was a huge dark curtain
around the bottom of the high stage. The bulldog guy pulled back a heavy flap of canvas and
Chance and his two friends were hustled inside.
Danson Storm was the first thing Chance saw. Larger than life, he sat on a chair in the
corner a few feet away, his legs thrown up onto an old crate. The rock god nodded his head
at him and Chance felt as if all the air had suddenly left his lungs. Then Chance was whisked
off to the side by none other than Hail. “Hey there, Chance,” he grinned. “Glad you and your
friends could join us.”
Chance glanced over to see that Jackson and Pete were suddenly engaged in
conversation with the two other members of the band, Eddie and Ivan. He knew they were
as overwhelmed as he was. Their faces were animated as they struggled to say something
intelligent about the video they’d been in. Chance risked a glance at Danson Storm again. He
wasn’t being especially social. He hadn’t moved from where he sat on the far side of the
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room. Chance couldn’t believe it. He was so close and yet so far away. He was tall and
muscular and—with his long black hair tied loosely back—sexy as sin. Chance wanted to
shake his hand. He wanted to touch him, tell him how much he admired him, adored him.
But he couldn’t get his legs to move. He couldn’t even focus on what Hail was saying to him.
He looked into Hail’s blue eyes as Hail touched his arm to get his attention. Chance
tried to focus. Danson Storm was only a few feet away. Hail touched Chance’s arm, squeezed it.
“It’s great to meet you.”
Great to meet me? Was he fucking kidding? This was Hail. “What are you…guys…doing
here? I mean, it was great and everything, but isn’t it dangerous?”
“You sound like our manager,” he chuckled. “A little dangerous, I suppose. I like
danger. We’re thanking our fans.”
“Yeah, but…the crowd is…frenzied out there. Listen to them.”
“A lot of people volunteered to be bodyguards, to keep us safe. We’re leaving soon. I
just wanted to…” He swallowed hard, looked distressed.
Chance narrowed his eyes. “What is it? Is it the video? You saw it and you hated it,
or…you don’t want us—” Hail turned away. “Are you all right?”
A deep voice spoke up, startling him. “Hey.” Danson Storm was there. He towered
behind Hail, as he placed a hand on his band mate’s shoulder.
It was true. Danson Storm had the deepest brown eyes, like liquid chocolate pools.
Chance decided that he could have drowned in those eyes gladly.
“I’m fine.” Hail glanced at Danson then turned back to Chance.
Danson looked right at Chance for a second then left them again.
Chance’s knees were jelly. He felt like he was about to fall down. Might have been all
the liquor, not to mention the joint he’d smoked. Or it could have been Danson Storm, whose
very photograph did strange and wonderful things to him. Now here he was in the same
space, and yet it was Hail who seemed obsessed with him.
Chance was flattered. He was a big fan, but Hail had never done it for him like Danson
had. Chance was disappointed that Danson was practically ignoring him. He just went back
to the same place and sat by himself, not speaking to any of them.
“I’m sorry,” Hail said. “I didn’t think I’d be like this. I thought it would be easier.”
“What would be easier?” Chance enquired. “It was just a stupid high school contest.”
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“No, it’s not the video.”
Chance was beginning to feel uncomfortable. This was unbelievable. Did Hail want to
sleep with him or something?
“Forgive me,” Hail was saying, “You don’t understand and I…”
“Listen,” Chance said gently, “I like you, I really do, but…I don’t really… I mean, I
know it would be a big coup and everything, groupies do it and…but I’m not going to sleep
with you, okay?”
His eyes widened. “Sleep with me?”
“Well…yeah…I mean…isn’t that why you keep…?”—Chance trailed off, confused—
“why you’re…like this?”
“Good Lord,” he blinked. “I don’t want…I mean…no.” He shook his head. “I want to
help you—help you find a singing career, hook you up…if that’s what you want.”
“Oh.” Now he felt really stupid. “Why? I mean…I’m not that good. Why would you
want to help me?”
“Because I can…and you are good. You’ve inherited my talent and…” He stopped,
sighed, kicked at the ground with the toe of the expensive Italian boots he wore.
“Inherited your talent?” Chance laughed. “I wish.”
Hail walked away, just like that, and left him standing there. Chance looked around,
unsure of what to do. His friends were still chatting with the drummer and bass player.
Chance turned and bumped chest-long into Danson, who reached out one strong hand to
steady him. “Easy there,” he said in his smooth, deep voice.
Chance swallowed and smiled shyly. “Hi.” If it hadn’t been for the booze, he was sure
he would have been speechless.
Danson smiled back. Chance’s knees went weak. What a smile. “Hello.”
They stood looking at each other for a moment until Chance found his voice again. “Is
he all right…Hail?”
Danson cocked his head. “Did he tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Guess he didn’t.” He sighed.
“Tell me what?” Chance insisted.
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“It’s long overdue, man, but,” he paused, “not my place to say anything. I’ll go find
him. Stay here. Have a…”—he took another look at him—“soft drink.”
Chance smiled. “Are you trying to tell me I’m drunk?”
“I don’t think I have to tell you that, do I?” A dark eyebrow lifted slightly.
Chance laughed. “You are so cute,” he said, then gasped, “so hot and…oh, I mean… I’m
going to have a soft drink now.”
Danson laughed. “Good idea.”
Chance joined his friends, who were talking to the other two band members, but he
didn’t remember much after that. When he opened his eyes, it was almost dawn and he was
sprawled out in a lawn chair under the stage. Pete and Jackson were asleep on the ground
nearby, rolled up in blankets. The band was gone.
Chance jumped up from his chair only to see a piece of paper fluttering on the ground
at his feet. He picked it up. There was a phone number written on it and a short note. This is
my private number. Call me. We really need to talk. Love Hail. Chance shoved it into his pocket.
Love Hail?
They stayed for the rest of the weekend, made a lot of friends, exchanged a lot of email
addresses and had a great time. Hail Storm actually making an appearance had thrilled the
fans and made the weekend. On the way back to the city, Chance took the paper out and
stared at the number a few times. He wondered if it was real or if someone had decided to
play a joke. The other guys were going on about their conversations with the members of
Hail Storm but Chance wasn’t listening. He was in shock. What a bizarre experience. He
couldn’t quite make sense of it.
Chance went back to his job at the hospital and thankfully his father didn’t bring up the
subject of his weekend. He was a grown man now and he guessed his father had figured out
that he couldn’t control him.
The following Friday night, Chance took out Hail’s number again and stared at it.
Maybe he’d dreamt it all. He decided to find out. He picked up the phone and pressed in the
number. It rang several times then a message came on. It was Hail’s voice. “Hey, I’m incognito
but if you leave me a message, I’ll call you back. No shit. Talk soon.”
Chance swallowed. “Hail,” he said into the phone, “it’s Chance. Just called to see
what…”
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The phone picked up immediately. “Chance?”
“Hey, yeah.” he gripped the phone. “It’s really you. How are you doing?”
“Fans got hold of the number. It needs to be changed again. Glad you called. Now I can
change it. I didn’t want to before I heard from you.”
Chance narrowed his eyes. He found it incredible that his call was that important.
Either Hail saw something he didn’t or this guy was really trying to hit on him. But neither
explanation made much sense, not when Hail could sleep with whomever he wanted.
“You still there?” Hail’s voice came back over the line.
“Yes. Sorry. What was the question?”
“Never mind. When do you want to come to L.A.?”
“What?”
“City of Angels, man. My house?”
“Shiiiit.”
There was laughter. “Does that mean yes?”
“Ah, are you serious? You’re inviting me to your house?”
“Of course I’m serious.”
“Why me?”
“Told you…want to help you. That’s all.” There was a big silence.
“When do you want me to come?”
“Tonight. We’ll have a private plane pick you up at Kennedy.”
“Tonight?” Chance sank down on the bed. “I…well…I have to…I guess…I… What in
hell am I saying…yes! Okay.”
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Chapter Two
The Middle
When Chance arrived at the airport and saw the plane sitting there waiting for him, he
thought, this is really happening. Jackson and Pete sat there staring at it as well. “This is
unbelievable,” Jackson said at the wheel of his father’s Toyota.
“Jesus Christ,” Pete breathed. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. It’s a dream.”
“Hey, you sing well,” Jackson said, “but…no, he must want to sleep with you.”
“Come off it,” Chance said. “He could have any guy he wanted…or girl. Why me?”
Nothing could dampen his spirits, however, when he looked at that plane—not the
fight he would have with his father when he discovered Chance had gone to L.A., nor the
trouble he’d be in if he showed up late for work on Monday morning. Getting on that plane
would be totally irresponsible and outrageous…but it was the stuff dreams were made of
and he wasn’t going to pass it up.
When the plane landed at LAX, his stomach was really in knots. After he disembarked,
everything seemed to happen in a whirlwind. He was met by a driver who led him through
the airport. They stopped for his luggage then he was whisked to a limousine. Hail stepped
out immediately to greet him. He grabbed Chance and hugged him. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Hey, me too,” Chance replied. He still wasn’t sure why a big rock star like Hail had
suddenly taken such an interest in him but he was more than a little freaked out by it.
When they were comfortably seated and facing one another in the back of the
limousine, Hail leant forwards. “I haven’t been to bed yet. There’s so much to show you,
and…next week”—his handsome face was flushed with excitement—“I’ll take you to the
studio and maybe you can—”
Chance shook his head. “I can’t. I mean, I’d love to, but I have to leave Sunday night at
the latest.”
“Leave?” The animated expression on Hail’s face deflated. “You just got here.”
“I have a job at the hospital and…well…”
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“Chance, you don’t need to work at that hospital unless you want to. Live here with me
and I’ll get you a recording contract and—”
Chance’s eyes widened. “Recording contract? The video wasn’t really that great. I
mean…”
“No,” Hail agreed as he sat back and shook his head, “it wasn’t that great.”
Chance narrowed his eyes. “Fine, so, if you didn’t think it was good…I mean, why do
you want to…? Listen.” He just had to say this. “I really love you, Hail. I do. I love all the
members of the band, but…if you think I’m going to be your boy toy or something…” He
shook his head. None of this made sense.
Hail raised an eyebrow but he didn’t interrupt.
“Well…look…it’s not like I have a lot of experience in bed or anything. I’m sure you
could…”—Chance looked at his hands—“do a lot better than me with someone else. You
could have any guy you wanted—why me?”
“You know,” Hail began to laugh, “your face is beet red.”
Chance just stared at him.
“Chance,” he sighed, “I have no interest in sleeping with you. I already told you that
back in New York.”
“What then? I mean, I sing but there are tons of people who sing well. You could help
them and sleep with them at the same time.”
“How convenient.” He grinned. “A little calculated but convenient. Chance, I’m not in
the habit of helping people’s careers in exchange for sex. Stop thinking so much. When we
get home, I’ll explain everything, okay?” He looked out of the window and the conversation
ended.
* * * *
Hail had a magnificent rose garden at his ten-bedroom mansion in the Hills and after
showing Chance around the house he led him back outside to sit among the flowers.
The scent permeated the air as they indulged in an early breakfast of bacon and eggs
near the pool. Later, they watched the sun come up as they walked around the estate. It was
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incredible. Chance asked him all kinds of questions about the band, and Hail told him funny
road stories.
Every few minutes, Hail would stop and gaze at him, like he wanted to tell him
something, but each time he’d get a conflicted look on his face then start to walk again.
Chance was just about ready to ask him to spit it out when Hail turned, looked at him and
announced, “Chance, you’re my brother.”
Chance’s eyes opened wide and he burst out laughing. “You know, for a moment there,
I thought you said I was your…your brother?”
“That’s what I said.”
Chance sobered. Too many drugs and late night parties had definitely affected the guy.
It was a shame but he’d lost his mind.
“Listen,” Hail moved closer.
Chance took a few steps back.
“When you were a kid, you needed bone marrow. I was the donor.”
Chance’s mouth fell open. “You were the…” He sank down on a nearby bench and
suddenly lost the ability to speak.
Hail sat down beside him. “Your father came out here on vacation during his second
year of med school. He and your mother were about to get engaged. I guess it was his one
last fling when he slept with my mom.”
Chance stared at him.
“I’m twenty-five, six years older than you.”
“This is impossible!”
“Sounds impossible, but it’s not. You might be more inclined to believe it, I suppose, if I
wasn’t who I am.”
“Did you know about me?”
“Not until your father contacted me and asked me to donate the marrow. He said you
were dying.”
“My father…why do you say my father… he’s your father too, isn’t he?”
Hail stood. “He’s no father of mine,” he said stiffly. “My mother contacted him at the
hospital after she found out she was pregnant. She left him repeated messages. He ignored
all of them. After a while, she gave up and raised me alone.”
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“He must have kept track of you, sent money?” Chance could scarcely breathe.
“He sent nothing. My mother worked a variety of crap jobs to raise me. When you got
sick he only knew where I was because of Hail Storm. He must have seen me somewhere—
maybe in a music video—and I go by my mother’s last name.”
“How could he do this?” Chance shook his head in disbelief. “How could he keep this
from me, from my mother?” How could my father give one son everything and the other nothing?
“You must hate me.”
Hail actually smiled. Chance saw a glimpse of his father in that smile and a shiver ran
down his spine. “I don’t hate you, Chance. None of this is your fault. It doesn’t matter. I
wanted to find you. I waited until you were of age—that way your father couldn’t object. I
saw the video, and…well…it was the ideal opportunity. I want to know you, Chance. It’s
your choice…if you want to know me?”
Chance got to his feet and walked over to him. They looked at each other for a minute
then Chance hugged him hard. Tears pricked his eyes. “Of course I do.”
* * * *
When Chance finally plucked up enough courage to call home, he didn’t explain to his
mother the real reason he wasn’t coming back. Thankfully, his father wasn’t there because he
had no interest in speaking to him. His mother was upset. He’d left his job and was
abandoning his studies at university in the autumn. “What do I tell your father? I can’t tell
him you’ve decided to live with a bunch of rock stars!”
“Yes, tell him that. Tell him I’m living with Hail Dean. He’ll understand.”
“Do you…love this man?” His parents had known for years about his sexuality and it
had never been an issue.
“Yes,”—he smiled—“I do, but it’s not what you think.”
“I don’t understand.”
Who could blame her for not understanding? He told her not to worry about him, and
rang off, promising he’d call again soon.
Chance told Hail about the phone call later on that day. “I don’t want to ruin my
mother’s life. Father should have told her and he didn’t,” Chance said bitterly. “It’s not my
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place to tell her.” He looked at the man, who over the course of the last few days had ceased
to be an enigma and was somehow magically transforming into his brother. It was all
difficult to take in. He really didn’t know which part caused him the most difficulty—the fact
that Hail was actually his brother and had unselfishly saved his life when he was twelve, or
that his father had abandoned his son…and never told him he had a brother.
He and Hail talked a lot over that week, as though they were trying to make up for all
the time they’d missed, by filling in their lives for each other. Hail had had a very different
kind of life. He’d often taken odd jobs, and sometimes they’d had little to eat. His mother had
never finished high school and had worked very hard in a variety of menial jobs. She’d died
young, three days before Hail’s twentieth birthday.
“If it hadn’t been for this talent,” Hail said as the housekeeper—a middle-aged woman
with a kind face—brought them lunch out by the pool, “I’d be working in a warehouse
somewhere now.”
There was silence.
How could Chance not feel guilty? Even though Hail had told him several times that he
was not responsible for the sins of his father, he couldn’t help but be aware of the marked
difference between them when it came to their early years.
“Oh, Chance,” Hail said, pulling the woman serving them closer, “I’m sorry. This is
Sophia, our housekeeper.” He stood and gave her a hug. “I should have introduced her
earlier. She’s family.”
“Thank you, Mr Hail,” she smiled.
“Sophia, this is Chance, my little brother.”
“Nice to meet you, Chance,” she said. “You look like your brother.”
“Thanks,” Chance beamed. “That’s a huge compliment. Nice to meet you too, Sophia.”
When she left them alone again, Hail sat back down and said, “Sophia worked with my
mother in the sweat shops for some time. They were good friends. When her vision started to
get bad, they fired her. When I found out, I offered her a job here. She has two teenagers at
home. The father disappeared long ago. They live in the little house out back.”
“That was nice of you.”
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“She did me a favour, really. She’s great. We respect each other. I trust her. I started a
college fund for the girls, and I don’t charge them any rent. I overpay her some, but she has
to have money to retire.”
“You’re a good guy,” Chance said. “You don’t live alone here in the house, though, do
you, Hail?” The house was massive. He’d been acutely aware that none of the band members
had been around, and he couldn’t help thinking of Danson, since his photographs lined the
walls of hallways featuring the group’s gold records.
“Sometimes. We have a strange arrangement. Danson lives here most of the time,
although he has a condo nearby for when he gets into his I-want-to-be-alone moods.” He
laughed. “Eddie and Ivan live here off and on, too, although Ivan is getting hitched…or so he
says. He’s always at Marie’s apartment now when she’s here in the city.”
“Oh, I only asked because none of the guys have been around, and I wondered if they
lived elsewhere. It’s a big place to live in all alone.”
“Yeah. Well, the guys are in Vancouver, appearing at a benefit for the heart foundation.
Ivan’s dad died really young from heart disease so it’s a cause dear to his heart. I begged off
so that we could have this time alone.”
“It’s been nice,” Chance said.
Hail smiled. “Yeah. It has.” He took a bite out of his sandwich. “Danson and Eddie will
be back tonight. Ivan went to join Marie in Paris. She’s a fashion model and has some big
show this week.”
“Think I read about their romance in a magazine. Isn’t she Russian?”
“Yes, but don’t believe any of that crap you read.” A breeze blew up and Chance lost
his napkin. “One article said Marie was having a secret affair with Danson behind Ivan’s
back. How low. Danson would never do something like that. And Marie is gaga over Ivan.”
“I think I read that one,” Chance laughed. “Seems Danson is sleeping with everyone.”
“Just about,” he laughed.
Chance sobered. “But is it true…about you and Danson?”
“What about me and Danson?”
“That you…you know…you’re a couple.”
“No. We’re not. I mean…we’re not exclusive. We have been involved…on and off.”
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Chance sucked in some breath. It didn’t seem like Hail wanted to talk about it, so it was
better to change the subject. But now he knew Danson was gay…and so was his brother.
“You know I’m gay, right?”
“Yeah,” he laughed. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”
“How did you know?” Chance accused.
“The way you look at men.”
The way I looked at Danson?
“Don’t you think it’s weird we’re both gay?” Chance asked.
“Maybe it’s in the genes?” He made a face. “I don’t mean Levi’s.”
Chance grinned. “Did you always know?”
Hail nodded. “Sure.”
“And Danson, does he see himself as…gay?”
“Oh hell, yes,” Hail muttered. “I mean, he’s slept with women, but it’s rare. He’s got
some appetite when it comes to sex. It’s hard to keep up.”
A little shiver ran down Chance’s spine. “Right,” he smiled. “So, you’re not together?”
“If I could rope and tie that man, I would. He’s a free spirit. I take him whenever I can
get him.” He sobered. “I love Danson. I really do. And I figure one day he’ll wake up and
realise that I’m the one. I can wait. I know it’s going to happen.”
* * * *
Chance lay in bed that night thinking about those words. His brother was in love with
Danson Storm, so that meant Danson was off limits, totally. How disappointing.
When Chance heard the car roar up in front of the house a little while after he’d gone to
bed, he got up, went to the window and looked outside. Danson was getting out from behind
the wheel of a Jeep, while Eddie, the bass player in the band, was taking things out of the
back of the vehicle.
Suddenly Danson paused and looked up at the window. Chance didn’t move back in
time and Danson saw him. Their gazes met and locked for a few seconds. Danson smiled at
him before continuing on into the house.
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Chance crawled back into bed. That smile had warmed him all over and the awareness
that Danson would be sleeping under the same roof kept him awake half the night. It was
foolish. Nothing could ever come of it.
Chance slept late and, when he finally opened his eyes the next morning, the sun was
shining in his face. He groaned and pulled the duvet over his head. He’d forgotten to close
the damn blinds last night before he’d gone back to bed. He dozed some more then told
himself to get up. The clock said noon.
As he went into the bathroom, he heard laughter coming from below. The bathroom
window looked out on to the patio where the pool was. Seated at the table were Hail and
Danson. They were talking and laughing about something, both shirtless and in shorts.
Someone was swimming in the pool. He could hear them splashing around.
Chance moved away from the window and hopped into the shower. He tried not to
think about Danson but his cock was hard as he soaped himself. He dried off, and donned a
pair of jean shorts and a navy T-shirt. He fiddled with his fair hair for a few minutes then got
up the courage to go downstairs and outside.
As he approached, Danson and Hail stopped talking. “There’s my little brother,” Hail
said. It still sounded weird, but he definitely liked it.
“Hello, Chance.” Danson said his name like a caress and it made Chance warm all over.
He still had the erection, which the loose-fitting shorts were doing a good job of concealing.
“Hi, Danson.” Chance smiled back.
“I was just asking Danson,” Hail said, “if he’d consider giving you guitar lessons.”
Chance swallowed. “Really?” He looked at Danson with expectation. “Wow, learning
from you. That would be terrific. I mean, you’re the best in the world.”
“Gee thanks, Chance,” he teased. “I don’t know about being the best in the world, but
I’m pretty good at it, I guess.”
Chance shook his head. Pretty good?
“We’ve also been talking about a good record producer,” Danson continued. “We could
produce your CD under our label and…”
“CD?” he gulped. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.”
“Listen,” Hail said, “you have a great voice. I’m going to help you write some tunes.
We’ll set up a tour and…”
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“We’ll get behind you, Chance,” Danson said as Eddie came out of the water and lifted
a hand in greeting.
“You can’t lose,” Hail added. “What do you want to eat, kid?”
For some reason, Chance glanced over at Danson.
Danson raised an eyebrow and Chance blushed all over.
What in hell was wrong with him? And Danson didn’t miss a trick. “I-I…was just
wondering what you were…eating, Danson. That’s all.” He’d made it worse. Hail gave him a
curious look. Danson threw back his dark head and howled with laughter.
“What’s the joke?” Hail asked.
“Nothing,” Chance looked down at the table. God, he felt like a fish out of water. These
guys had seen everything and done everything. All he’d done so far was get naked with the
neighbour’s pool boy and participate in some clumsy oral sex. He was way out of his league.
It would have been easier if Danson hadn’t been so damn good-looking. He was
charming and really fun to be around. Over the course of the next few days, Chance hung
out with Danson and Hail almost constantly. Eddie was there, too, off and on. They swam
together, watched movies, and drank fancy drinks by the pool. Chance’s attraction to Danson
was growing by the minute and it was terrifying. He found himself daydreaming about him
and staring a little too long. When they talked, he found himself often at a loss for words. He
was sure Danson thought he was soft in the head. At night, he’d crawl into bed and think
about what it would be like to touch Danson…really touch him.
At the end of the week, at breakfast, Hail pressured Danson to start giving Chance
guitar lessons.
“Are you ready?” Danson asked Chance sincerely.
Chance laughed. “Of course not, but…if I’m going to do this, it’s time to get started.”
Danson looked at Hail. “We need to be at the studio a few hours every day next week.”
“It’s okay,” Hail said, glancing at Chance. “He’ll work around our schedule—right,
kid?”
“Of course I will,” Chance replied.
“Next week will be a great opportunity for you to check out what a studio is like,” his
brother was saying as he chewed on some bacon.
“Cool, you mean I can tag along?”
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Hail looked at Danson.
“Why not?” Danson replied, sitting back in his seat.
Chance still wasn’t used to being in such intimate proximity to Danson. It seemed he
was forever half-dressed—always shirtless, wearing rather skimpy jean shorts that were torn
in all the right places. It was distracting. He noticed that Hail was also appreciating the view
as Danson stood up and walked over to the edge of the pool where Eddie had just swum to
the side. Every morning Eddie religiously did his laps in the pool. Danson leaned over and
handed him a towel, and Chance’s head—along with his brother’s—tilted to catch the view.
Hail suddenly gave Chance a friendly poke and made a face at him.
“What?” Chance asked innocently.
“You’re a pervert. We need to get you laid.”
“I…I…am not a…”
“I saw you checking out Danson’s ass.”
“I wasn’t the only one,” Chance shot back, laughing.
“Touché. Believe me,”—Hail sighed, sitting back in his chair—“it’s a great ass. And
what he’s got between those thighs is…um, yum.”
Chance knew his face must have turned three shades of red.
Hail chuckled. “You’re so shy. Hell, out here—in this world—we say what we like and
what we want…and then we take it.”
Danson came back with a dripping Eddie. “You take what?” Eddie asked.
“Danson’s ass,” Hail grinned.
Chance’s eyes popped.
Danson pretended to be shocked.
Eddie smacked Danson on the rear. “It’s firm and round, but mine’s nicer.” Eddie
swirled around and mooned them. Everyone was laughing.
“Not bad, Eddie,” Hail told him. “Can I have it?”
Eddie gave him the finger. “Dream on. Unless you got a pussy, boy, forget it.”
“Oh, he’s a pussy all right,” Danson teased.
Hail gave him a threatening look and sprang to his feet. They went running around the
pool, Hail hot on Danson’s tail.
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Eddie shook his head as Chance stood there laughing. “There they go again. For God’s
sake, Danson…put Hail out of his misery and fuck him, will ya?”
Chance sobered, looking at Eddie. The other two were laughing while they wrestled on
the grass. “Do you think they’ll ever be a couple?”
“Danson and your brother? Hell, no,” he scoffed. “If it was up to your brother, in a
minute, but Danson isn’t the settling down type. He loves Hail like a brother, really. Sad
story. I told Hail to give up on Dans, but he’s too far gone. And Dans should cut Hail off
completely if he doesn’t intend to be faithful. It drives Hail crazy. One day it’s all going to
turn to shit and destroy this band.”
Chance let that sink in as Eddie walked off, towel now wrapped around his waist. The
passion in Eddie’s voice as he spoke told Chance there had already been trouble.
The horsing around came to an end and the two young men returned—out of breath
and still laughing—to where Chance stood. Hail looked happy, really happy, his arm lightly
around Danson’s waist.
“So,” Hail said, “how about you and Danson get to work today? I’ve got to meet my
cousin Charlie later.”
“Charlie?” Chance asked.
Danson announced he was going to change his clothes and walked off.
“Yeah, my mom’s sister’s boy. He’s getting into the business and asks my advice on
stuff. We’ve been good friends since we were little kids. I used to spend lots of time at my
auntie’s when Mom was working. Charlie is managing a hot new group now called Sin City,
an all girl band.”
“Cool. So is Danson giving me lessons today then?”
“Yeah, here in the studio. Have fun. I’m going to change too. I’ll be back in time for
dinner. Tell Sophia we want lobster,” he called as he walked across the terrazzo to the door.
A few minutes later, Chance went looking for Sophia. She was in the kitchen making
iced tea. Her two teenage daughters were sitting at the counter looking bored. One was
sixteen, the other fourteen—both pretty girls and probably the envy of all their friends at
school, given their living arrangements.
“Hi, Chance.” Ruby, the youngest, waved. “Whatcha doing?”
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“Getting ready to take guitar lessons with Danson. Hi, Allison.” Chance lowered his
head to grin at the eldest, who was looking a little sour-faced.
“Don’t mind her, Mr Chance.” Sophia clicked her tongue. “She’s in a foul mood.”
“Am not,” she muttered.
“Can’t get her own way,” Ruby threw back.
“Shut up, troll,” she fired back.
“What’s the problem?” Chance asked.
Allison glanced at him. “Storm won’t take me for a ride on his bike today.”
It was funny how only people in Danson’s inner circle called him by his first name. To
everyone else, he was known as Storm.
“He’s a little busy with me today, but maybe later he might.”
Suddenly Allison’s head lifted and her expression changed as Danson sailed into the
kitchen. “How are my beauties today?”
Ruby jumped from her seat and gave Danson a hug. Danson stroked her hair. “Allison
called me a troll.”
Danson laughed, looked at Allison. “What’s up, gorgeous?”
“Why won’t you take me for a ride?”
“I will,” he said. “Later.”
“Stop bothering Mr Storm,” Sophia snapped.
“It’s okay.” Danson pecked Sophia’s cheek. “I did promise.”
“Oh,” Chance interjected as both girls were now hanging off Danson, “Hail wants
lobster for dinner.”
Sophia nodded. “I need to go to the market. Girls,” she glanced at them, “want to come
shopping?”
Danson fished in his pocket and dangled some keys. “Take the convertible.”
The girls let out a shout and Danson handed Sophia the keys.
“Thank you, Mr Storm.” She laughed as Ruby grabbed them from her and went
running outside. Allison followed. “Allison has been impossible lately.”
“No problem,” he said then glanced at Chance. “Ready?”
“No.” He laughed.
Danson smiled. “Come on, let’s go downstairs.”
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Chance followed Danson to the music room. “I didn’t think to bring my guitar. When I
was invited, I assumed I was only staying for the weekend.”
“Take your pick,” he said, waving his hand at the variety of guitars set up against the
wall.
Chance was feeling jittery. He was a little overwhelmed by the music room with all its
equipment, but it wasn’t the main reason. This was the very first time he’d been completely
alone with Danson.
“I recommend classical acoustic to begin. Not sure what you’ve got at home.”
Chance was studying the guitars. “Just a cheap ten amp electric guitar… I forget the
brand,” he murmured as he examined each instrument. There was a solid electric and next to
it was a semi-acoustic guitar, then an electric acoustic—another kind he’d often seen Danson
with. “What’s that one there?” Chance pointed to a guitar that looked like an ordinary flat
top.
“Oh that’s a folk guitar,” Danson said, picking it up and strumming a few bars.
“I like the sound.”
Danson motioned to him and opened a door, which led to a display of other guitars.
“Holy shit!” Chance exclaimed. “There must be over a hundred guitars here.”
“One hundred-twenty-two, actually,” Danson said. He began to explain to him the
difference between a Gibson and a Fender and Rickenbacker 330 and 360. Danson knew
which famous rock stars played which kind of guitar, and on what classic rock anthems.
Chance was blown away. “Damn. You know so much about guitars. Where did you get
all of these?”
“Some I bought. This one”—he picked it up—“the Gibson SG, was given to me by a
famous rock star who was part of the British invasion. And this one over here”—he pointed
to another—“is a Harmony Metro, semi-cut, single hollow body. Was played a lot between
sixty-two and sixty-three by one of the greats.”
Chance ran his hands over some of them. “Beautiful.”
He glanced up and found himself looking right into Danson’s dark eyes. Danson was
standing close. Too close. His lips curved upwards into a smile. “Yeah, you are.”
Chance opened his mouth then closed it.
Danson laughed a little, moved away. “The guitars I mean… I meant…they are.”
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“Of course.” Chance looked at the floor.
“So, pick one and let’s get started. I’m aware you already know how to play. I want to
challenge you some, improve your technique. Show me your fingers.”
Chance held out his hands and Danson took one of them. He ran his thumb over
Chance’s fingertips. “Needs more callusing.”
“Great.” Chance laughed.
Danson dropped his hand. “It’s the mark of a good guitarist.” Chance followed him out
into the other room. “Now, the first thing you need to do is warm up, stretch your muscles,
and make sure there is no tension here in the back of your neck.” Danson came around in
back of him and began to massage his shoulders.
Chance sucked in some breath and stiffened.
“Loose,” Danson scolded him. “You need to be relaxed. You’re tight as a coil.”
Danson was too close. His hands massaging his shoulders were doing everything but
relaxing him. “Why do I have to…?”
“Look,”—Danson came around to face him—“playing guitar is coordination between
the brain and the muscles. If your body is stiff, your playing will be stiff. You have to be
relaxed to play. Here,” Danson said, grabbing one of the guitars and plugging it into an amp.
“Hold it.”
Chance took the instrument in his hands and positioned it. Danson walked around back
and adjusted the strap. “Relax your body some more. Would you prefer to sit?”
“Probably.”
“Okay.” He pulled a chair over and Chance perched on it. “Now play—anything,
something you know well. Don’t think about it. Play.”
Chance strummed out one of Hail Storm’s numbers. “It’s missing a lot of parts
because…”
He held up a hand. “Do something easier.” He walked over and slipped in behind a set
of drums. “I’ll give you the beat.”
Chance chose a popular pop song everyone knew and Danson chimed in on the drums.
After a few minutes, he was having a good time and didn’t think about it. When it was over,
Danson said, “Good. Now the key to playing well is practice, but not too much all at once. A
half hour, three times a day. The rest of the time you can goof off.” He was looking in the
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drawer of a filing cabinet that sat in the corner of the room. “Okay, here it is.” He handed
Chance a piece of music. “I wrote this riff for the guitar a while back, never did much with it.
I want you to practice the first two lines of notes.”
“That’s it, only the first two lines?”
“That’s it. I want you to play it slower than the tempo indicates.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.” He stood there with his arms akimbo and Chance started to play the notes.
“No,” Danson said, “that’s not it. Again.”
Twenty minutes later, Danson still wasn’t satisfied. At the end, he said, “It’ll come.
Now, forget that and play me something you really enjoy playing.”
“It’s one of yours.”
“No problem.” He walked to the drums. “Go for it. Sing it too.”
“No. I’d really prefer if you sang it. Please?” Chance grinned.
“No problem. What am I singing?”
“Forbidden.”
“Okay,” he said, “one, one two three, four…
You look at me with desire,
I know what your heart aspires to and as much as I want you, I know…
Forbidden…forbidden makes you all the more…forbidden…
My body doesn’t know…forbidden…
Give me your love, babe. I’ll never tell…forbidden…
Come to me tonight…forbidden…I won’t even fight…
You are what my body craves…forbidden…”
Chance was mesmerised as he listened to Danson sing, missing most of the chords as
they went on. When the door opened, it jarred him out of his dream. They both stopped
playing. Allison stood there. “Sorry,” she said. “I thought I could be the audience.”
“It’s better if we don’t have one, honey.” Danson walked over to her.
“I’m a novice,” Chance laughed.
“Sorry.” She looked disappointed.
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“I’ll see you later,” Danson tweaked her cheek. “I’ll take you for a bike ride if it’s okay
with your mom.”
She grinned. “Cool.”
“She has a big crush,” Chance commented after Danson shut and locked the door.
He smiled.
“Careful, you’ll break her tender little heart.” What in hell am I saying? I’m not much better
than she is. I have a big crush as well. God, I hope that’s all it is.
“She’ll outgrow it,” he said.
“I suppose you’re used to little girls falling all over you?”
“Part of the job.” He winked. “Okay, ready to do it again?”
Chance nodded. He’d been in such a dream world listening to Danson sing that song,
he wasn’t sure if he’d been playing the right notes or not.
But Danson never commented when they jammed like that. He only got on his case for
those two lines of music. Every day for two weeks, before they went to the recording studio,
Danson went down into the music room with him. And every day Chance played those two
bars until Danson agreed they were perfect. “Okay, now pick up the tempo, play faster and
add the next two bars.”
Chance blew out some air and gave it a shot. He felt like he was back at square one with
the last two bars, stumbling over the complicated notes. His fingertips were raw.
After a half hour, Danson told him to stop. “Okay, we got to meet the guys at the
studio. I want you to practice again for a half hour when we come back and then we’ll jam.”
“Thanks,” Chance told him, putting down the guitar. “I really feel like I’m progressing.
I’ll never play like you, though.”
“Maybe you will and I’ll have to beef up my technique.”
Chance laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“Hail says he wants to give you a bit of vocal training as well. I think you sing great as
is.”
“Thanks, that’s a big compliment coming from you. I think you have one of the greatest
rock voices.”
“I do agree with Hail, though,” he said, unlocking the door. “Your voice is more suited
to pop.”
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“Um…”
“You have great range,” he said as they walked up the steps, “but you lack that rock
edge. Your voice is romantic and smooth, not raunchy.”
“You think so?”
“Chance,” Danson paused and gazed at him, “you have great talent. You’ll be a big star
one day if that’s what you want.”
Chance held his breath, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights as he looked into
Danson’s eyes. Danson backed him to the wall. His fingers slid under Chance’s chin and
lifted it. He moved his mouth closer. Chance could hardly breathe. “I want to kiss you,”
Danson said softly. “In fact, what I really want to do is fuck you.”
Chance felt his knees weaken. His lips parted. Danson pressed his mouth against his.
The kiss was soft and tender, Danson’s tongue curling slowly around his for a second.
Chance inhaled him, his fingers clutching a piece of Danson’s hair. Then Danson stepped
away from him. He smiled at Chance again. “Hurry up,” he said, “we have to be at the
studio.”
A car horn honked.
“There’s Hail now, impatient as usual,” Danson laughed. “See you outside in five.”
For a second, Chance stayed frozen to the spot. Did Danson just kiss me? Did he just
say…no, I dreamt it.
Chance sat huddled in the back seat, feeling kind of numb. Danson sat beside Hail in
the front seat, talking. He heard Hail say that Eddie had gone on ahead in his own car and
that Ivan would meet them at the studio, but nothing really registered. Danson’s kiss
lingered on his mouth. He kept licking his lips, hoping to keep it there forever. He tried to
think of all kinds of explanations. Danson wants to fuck me? Is that possible? Damn, that’s all I’ve
ever dreamt of…
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Chapter Three
In the studio, Chance went to sit in the sound booth behind the engineers. Danson
hadn’t paid much attention to him since they’d left the house. He was preoccupied with the
songs on the new album, as were the other three members of the band. It gave Chance the
opportunity to watch him with discretion.
They’d grown closer over the last few weeks. Even if Danson made him angry
sometimes with his bloody drills, Chance appreciated the time he was taking and had felt his
technique improve. It also seemed that the looks they exchanged had grown longer. And
then today—that kiss out of the blue…
Wow.
He had to find a way to put it aside. Danson was a big flirt. Chance knew he screwed
around…a lot. Surely this wasn’t serious. God, what would Hail say if he knew?
Chance was still pondering all that when the recording session ended. It was late and
the guys were hungry. Food had been brought in and Chance joined them downstairs for
sandwiches, realising that, like everyone else, he was starved.
After a few bites, Hail grabbed his arm and said, “Come on, I’ve arranged a sound
booth for you. I wrote a new song and I think it’s perfect for your voice. Want to give it a
try?”
“Now?”
“Look, little brother, I’ve managed to talk Danson into playing the guitar. With him on
the CD, your records would sell a million copies right there, and I’ll sing back up if you want.
Hell, all the guys will back you.”
“Really?” Chance looked at the others, who were nodding. Ivan gave him a thumb’s up.
“Knock ‘em dead, kid,” Eddie yelled.
“But you guys are tired and—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Hail said. “We’re ready.” He turned and looked at Danson. “Studio
six?”
“Yep. I’ll meet you there,” he said, sandwich in hand.
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Chance was excited but nervous. Hail took him aside and they went through the song
together without music half a dozen times.
“Remember, kid, this is just a try out,” his brother said. “It’s okay to put your own spin
on it. I like what you did.”
“Thanks,” Chance said.
“Okay, shall we go through it again, gang?” He handed Chance the headphones. “Let’s
give it a shot.”
* * * *
They’d done it ten times, each time better than the last. The playback sounded
sensational. Chance couldn’t believe it was his voice. That night, he couldn’t wait to call
Jackson and Pete to tell them all the news.
“That’s wild,” Pete said on the phone. They were still talking late into the night. Chance
needed to tell him what else was going on. Being gay, Pete would understand. “I can’t wait
to hear it on the radio.”
“It’s a little sad,” Chance said, lying on the bed on his stomach.
“Romantic sad?”
“Yeah, a love song.”
“You’ll have the little girls swooning.”
Chance chuckled.
“This is like a dream, buddy. All those nights we imitated those guys, dreamt of
meeting them and there you are. And Hail—your brother!”
“You didn’t tell anyone.”
“No. Only Jackson and I know.”
“Don’t want it getting back to my mom.”
“Your dad’s going to tell her one day, right?”
“I don’t know. Anyway, man, you and Jackson have got to come out here.”
“We will. Soon. Can’t leave my uncle right now. He’s off sick and I’m running the
joint.”
“What happened?”
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“Nothing serious, stomach problems.”
“Oh, him and his spicy sausages.”
“That’s what I told him, not to mention the wine.”
“Um, Pete?”
“Yeah?”
“What if I told you that…” he paused, “Danson Storm said he wanted to fuck me?”
“Get out of here!”
“I’m serious. He kissed me.”
“Shit! Oh shit, you lucky son of a… I hate you.”
Chance sobered. “I’m in trouble, Pete.”
“Why? I’d die for that kind of trouble.”
“Hail loves Danson.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, and they’re not a couple or anything but Hail thinks they will be…when Danson
settles down. I can’t… I want to—oh God, I want to—but…”
“I get it. Does Hail know that Danson kissed you?”
“Of course not.”
“Distance yourself from that, Chance. That’s asking for trouble.”
“I know but I don’t know if I can.”
“What do you mean?”
“Danson has been working with me, teaching me stuff on the guitar and—”
“I’m sure he could teach you more than just the guitar.”
“I’m sure he could, too. I don’t know if I could tell him no if he persists.”
“Tell him now. Nip it in the bud.”
“Okay, got to go. I talked to Jackson. What’s this about someone called Helen?”
“She broke up with him. He’s in the dumps. I think he’s going gay.”
“Good Lord, that won’t last.”
Pete laughed. “Stranger things have happened. Call me soon.”
“I will.”
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That night Chance lay awake, thinking about Danson and the situation that wasn’t
going to go away. Tomorrow, when they were alone, he was going to talk to him. This
couldn’t go any further.
When the morning dawned, Chance was up early. He sat with Hail over coffee, and
they talked about Chance’s song. “We need a few more takes,” Hail said, “and then we’ll get
it produced.”
“Damn.”
Hail rubbed his arm. “You do want this, right?”
“Yes, of course I want it.”
“Chance, I’m so happy you’re here, so happy not to be alone…to have a brother.”
That choked Chance up a little. He leant forwards and hugged him. “It means the world
to me. You mean the world to me.”
Hail smiled then sat back with his mug of coffee. “What about Dad?”
“What about him?”
“You haven’t talked to him at all since you’ve been here.”
“I can’t.”
“And your mom?”
“I called her again last week. She doesn’t understand. What can I tell her? Do you want
me to tell her about Dad?”
“No. It wouldn’t accomplish anything. I’m never going to be close to Dad, no matter
what. Too many years, too many hurts. He doesn’t know me and he never wanted to. I’ve
accepted that. I don’t want revenge.”
Tears stung Chance’s eyes. “It’s his loss. I don’t know if I can forgive him.”
“Forgive him, little brother,” Hail said. “Don’t throw away the years you’ve had with
him for me. What was done was done to me, not you. He didn’t abandon you.”
“No, but he deprived me of a brother all these years.”
Hail touched his cheek and smiled. “We’ll make up for it, okay?”
Chance nodded.
* * * *
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Later that day, Chance followed Danson to the music room as usual. He’d mastered the
first four bars and now was given four more. Danson stood watching him as he played. The
expression on his face was unreadable. Finally, he said, “You’re not concentrating, Chance.”
“No,” Chance sighed, putting down the guitar, “I’m not. We need to talk.”
“I know,” Danson replied.
Chance was surprised. “So I didn’t imagine that you…”
“No,” he said, “you didn’t imagine anything.” He stayed his distance.
“We need to put this aside.”
“Maybe we need to but I can’t.” Danson met his gaze. “I…have feelings for you I didn’t
expect to have.”
“We need to…” Chance paced, swallowing. He looked everywhere except at Danson. If
it wasn’t for Hail, he’d be in his arms right now.
Danson’s hands came down on Chance’s shoulders. He turned him around to face him.
“I know what we need to do.”
“Don’t,” Chance protested, shaking his head.
“Jesus Christ, I’m losing my mind,” Danson said hoarsely. “Kiss me.”
Chance shook his head but he couldn’t move away. Danson drew him closer and
covered his mouth with his. An involuntary moan came from somewhere deep inside
Chance’s chest. Danson moved his hand over his hair then pulled Chance’s head back.
Chance opened his mouth to his and their tongues did a sensuous dance. No one had ever
kissed him like that. He clutched the front of Danson’s T-shirt and Danson reached down
and placed both hands on Chance’s ass, yanking his body closer.
Chance grunted, his cock stiffening as he felt Danson’s thigh press against it. The
hunger in his kiss was pure passion, and Chance responded to it with his cock and his
mouth, gripping Danson’s waist now as Danson massaged his ass cheeks.
The knocking on the door shattered the moment into a million pieces. Danson released
him, his chest heaving, and Chance wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, his gaze
straying down to the obvious tent in Danson’s jeans. “Yeah?” Danson hollered out, never
moving his gaze from Chance’s.
“Hey, you guys—” It was Hail. “Why is the door locked?”
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Chance backed up against the wall. His cock was hard and he wiped at what he was
sure was a wet spot on his plaid shorts.
Danson crossed the floor and opened the door. “Allison,” he answered.
“What about her?” Hail asked, grinning over at Chance, who raised a hand and gave
him an overly bright smile.
“She keeps interrupting,” Danson offered.
“Oh yeah.” Hail laughed. “How’s it coming?”
“Good.” Chance reached over and picked up the guitar. He held it in front of him. He
was sure he’d leaked into his shorts. Shit.
“Thought I could hear something.” Hail walked into the centre of the room.
“Still not perfect,” Chance said. He wished to hell he could stop shaking inside. What the
hell are we doing? God, it had felt so good. He didn’t want it to stop. Was it real? Did Danson
Storm—the Danson Storm—really want him like that? It was a dream. He looked over at his
brother—who was talking softly to Danson, his arms around his neck as he said something
and laughed—and Chance realised this was just a dream he’d have to wake up from…fast.
“Okay,” Hail laughed. “I have been read the riot act, given my marching orders. Dans
says you’re not ready yet, kid.”
“He’s right, and you know…I… I need to be alone to practice right now.” Chance
walked to the door. “I’m going to practice alone in my room. There’s an amp in there. You
mind?” He looked at Danson.
Danson shook his head.
“Great.”
Chance high-tailed it up the stairs to his room. When he got inside, he locked the door
then put down the guitar. He walked into the bathroom and peeled off his shorts and
underwear. Yup. He’d started to come in his pants all right, and his cock was still hard.
“What is this…friggin’ high school?” Chance pressed himself against the wall and
closed his eyes. “Damn.” He took his cock in hand and began to stroke it. Danson. Baby.
You’re so beautiful. Hold it, stroke it…suck it…yeah…oh God, yeah. Chance yanked harder on his
cock, faster—an image of Danson coming out of the pool with his bathing trunks on, droplets
of water shining like diamonds on his bronzed skin, all those muscles and…the generous
bulge in his pants, spilling out now…
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I want to taste it.
Cum flowed into his fist and Chance gasped, his eyes closing as his head rolled back
against the smooth tile. He’d be all right now.
A few minutes later, he cleaned up and changed his clothes then lay on the bed. He
didn’t practice. He closed his eyes and fell asleep. Warm hands stroked his skin in the
sunlight as Danson laid him out naked by the pool. Chance watched the dark head bob
between his thighs and he cried out, his hand seeking out his cock. When his eyes opened,
Chance realised he had been dreaming again.
He got up and paced, finally deciding to go downstairs. It was after seven and he was
hungry. He walked into the kitchen and noticed sandwiches in the fridge. He fished out two
and sat at the counter, eating them and drinking cola.
Laughter came from the pool suddenly, and he got up to see who was out there.
Danson was swimming with the girls, lifting them in the water and tossing them around.
Their mother was sitting by the pool with a cup of coffee, enjoying the show.
Chance walked out, smiling at Sophia. “Hey. What’s going on?”
“You found the sandwiches?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Mr Storm is playing with the girls. They love him.”
“Mmm.” He could see why.
“Okay,” she called out, “enough, girls. Come on now, give Mr Storm some peace.”
There were protests but the girls obeyed. Sophia handed them towels.
“Where’s Hail and Eddie?” he asked, glancing over at Danson, who was swimming laps
in the pool.
“They went out to a nightclub. Mr Hail said if you wanted to join them later, to ask Mr
Storm the address.”
That meant that he and Danson were alone. As Sophia and her daughters left them to
go to the guest house, Chance got a little uneasy. He was just about to go back into the house
when Danson called to him. “Hey.”
Chance sighed and walked over to the pool. “Hey. Why didn’t you go out dancing?”
He shrugged, wiping some wet hair off his forehead. “I don’t like that place much. It’s
pretentious and I never get to enjoy myself—people all over me.”
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“Oh. Is that so?” Chance smiled.
“You can go if you want. I’ll drive you, drop you off.”
Chance shook his head. “It’s okay. Next time. It’s probably straight anyway.”
“No, it’s mixed. Anything goes. No one cares there. You have to have a membership to
get in. I can lend you my card whenever.”
“Exclusive, huh?” Chance swallowed. Danson looked so beautiful in the water, those
large dark eyes looking up at him.
“Chance, about this afternoon—” he began.
“No, listen,”—Chance put up a hand—“it was just a… Forget it, okay?”
“I can’t,” he said, reaching out his hand. “I can’t forget it, Chance. If Hail hadn’t
knocked on the door when he did, I might have taken you right there on the floor.”
“Don’t…say that.” Chance backed away from the pool.
Danson dropped his hand. “So, you want to pretend it isn’t happening.”
“Nothing is happening. Hail loves you. I can’t do this.” Chance walked back to the
door.
Danson hopped out of the pool and followed. He grabbed Chance’s elbow with one wet
hand and turned him around. “You wanted me back in that music room. Your body told
me.”
Chance pulled away. “It was a mistake.”
“I don’t think so. I think we both felt it back at the festival. Hail and I…we…we’re not a
couple.”
“I know that but he wants you. He thinks one day you’ll be his, Danson.”
“I won’t be his.” He sighed. “We’ve been friends forever. We were lovers briefly, but it
didn’t mean the same to me. I told him that.”
“He’s my brother.” Chance opened the door and walked into the kitchen. Thankfully
Danson didn’t follow him. Chance went up to his room and stayed there until he finally fell
asleep.
* * * *
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Over the next week, Chance realised that Danson was going out of his way to avoid
him. He made excuses about not being able to give him guitar lessons anymore. He attended
the sessions at the recording studio but left right afterwards.
He didn’t eat with them anymore, either, and most of the time he didn’t come back until
after dark. Some nights, he didn’t come in at all.
Hail was fuming. One morning, after about a week of this kind of behaviour, Hail
began to rant to Chance about it. “I don’t know what in hell’s got into him. He can’t even
stick around for a meal. I have to wonder what tight little ass he’s pounding this time.”
Chance knew the reason Danson was staying away but he couldn’t tell Hail. Honestly,
he missed not having Danson around—missed their practices and their conversations.
“Christ, he doesn’t have a civil word to say anymore, always in a hurry.” Hail popped a
grape into his mouth. “And you know what pisses me off the most?”
Chance glanced over at Eddie. He was talking to Ivan, who was there that morning for
breakfast. They’d both told Hail to forget it, that Danson was probably in one of his moods.
Hail wasn’t about to let it go.
“Are you listening to me?” Hail probed.
“Yeah,” Chance said. “I don’t know what to say, Hail. He’ll get over it.”
“Get over what? He agrees to help you with the guitar then suddenly…he just begs
off.”
“It’s okay, he’s done enough.”
“No, he hasn’t. Look, I’ll give you lessons. I may not be a rock god, but I play well
enough.”
“You play great, bro,” Chance smiled but there was a sadness inside. He hoped to hell
he could shake it. He’d rejected Danson, but he’d done it for a good reason. How could he
become Danson’s lover…even if he did dream every night that Danson was making love to
him? Put it aside…forget it. He can’t be yours. Ever.
“On a positive note, the record company has agreed to produce your song.”
“Yeah…that’s great.”
“Now, we need to set a date for all of us to be in the studio for that…then we need to
get you a concert tour.”
“Concert tour?” Chance croaked. “I only have one song.”
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“You’ll have more,” Hail said. “Maybe you can come on tour with us, be the lead in.”
“I wouldn’t feel…”
“Oh, Chance,” Hail slapped his arm. “I’m going to make you a star.”
* * * *
The following two months were jam-packed and Chance felt as though he was flying
most of the time. Hail Storm recorded a song with him—then there were two…then five.
Three were original tunes written by his brother, two were popular songs he’d got
permission to record. There weren’t enough for an entire CD, but all of them would be
released, one at a time. Chance wanted to invite Jackson and Pete to visit, but his life had
become a whirlwind of press interviews and photo shoots.
And then he was about to make his debut.
He didn’t feel at all ready, but Hail was there pushing him ahead. Chance was acutely
aware of Danson standing on the sidelines through everything—could hear his guitar whine
through his tunes, his strong baritone voice harmonising in the background—but they hadn’t
been in a room alone together since that evening when Danson had been in the pool.
His debut was a highly publicised special appearance with Hail Storm. He would
perform in front of three thousand people at a charity function for AIDS research. Hail
thought he’d be less stressed starting out this way. After that, he would go on the road with
Hail Storm and be their special guest.
Chance spoke to his mother on the phone just before the performance. He’d wanted to
invite her to come but didn’t want his father there. “I’m so proud of you, honey,” she said.
She sounded near tears.
“Don’t cry, Mom,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“You haven’t spoken to your father…and…” She started to cry.
“I’ve got nothing to say to him.”
“But what happened?” She sniffed. “I don’t understand any of it.”
“Ask him to explain.”
“He won’t talk to me. I have a right to know.”
“I can’t, Mom. Look, I’ve got to go. It’s time to go out there on stage. I’m terrified.”
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“Are you sure this is the life you want?” she asked.
“For now, yes. I’m okay, Mom. Don’t worry. Love you.”
“I love you. Next time, please let me know. I would have loved to have been there.”
“Next time.”
They hung up. Jackson couldn’t make it to the show, but Pete had come and was there
in the audience. He didn’t even have time to say hi, though. The chauffeur for Hail Storm
had picked Pete up from the airport and brought him straight to the concert hall.
As he stood backstage, Chance saw Danson walking in his direction, holding his guitar
in one hand. They looked at each other. Danson smiled at him. “So,” he said, “this is it.”
“I guess so.”
“It’s normal to be scared shitless,” he said. “A recording studio is one thing, a live
audience another.”
Chance nodded. They were alone in that little section of backstage. In spite of the noise,
it seemed as if there were only the two of them. Chance couldn’t tear his eyes away from
Danson. “I…” he began. “Thank you for everything.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. This is all you.” He turned to go.
Chance reached out for his arm. He pulled him close, looked into those dark, haunting
eyes. “God, Danson, I’ve missed you so much.”
Danson let his forehead press against his for a moment then he stepped back and
walked off towards the dressing room.
* * * *
The show had gone off without a hitch. Chance’s nervousness had disappeared once he
was on stage. They raised a lot of money, and Chance got a lot of attention at the party
afterwards.
Pete, who was visibly proud, was having a good time as well. It was good to be with
Pete again, although Chance wished Jackson could have made it, too. The only
disappointment was that Danson didn’t attend the backstage party. He was gone as soon as
the curtain came down.
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When they got home, everyone was tired and they all crashed. The next day, after
grabbing a quick bite, Chance and Pete sat outside and talked most of the afternoon. No one
else seemed to be around.
“I always knew you’d be a star,” Pete told him.
“I’m not a star yet.”
“You will be. The guys are great.”
“Yeah, they are.”
“Too bad Danson didn’t stick around last night,” Pete said. “I would really like to get to
know him a little. God, he’s such a hunk.”
Chance didn’t comment.
“So?”
“So, what?”
“So, what’s Danson really like?”
“I don’t want to talk about Danson, okay?” Chance sighed.
Pete looked at him. “Chance?”
Chance closed his eyes. “It’s complicated.”
“What is?”
“Me and Danson.”
“You and…” He sat up. “I thought you talked to him and it wasn’t like that anymore.
At least that’s what you told me the last time we spoke on the phone.”
Chance didn’t respond.
“Is there a you and Danson?” Pete persisted.
“There could be.”
“So, it’s cool with Hail?”
“Pete,” Chance said, tears rolling down his cheeks, “after Danson kissed me, we did
talk, kind of. He’s been staying away. I miss him so much.”
“Chance? You’re in love with him.”
“I…no, damn it.”
“You are. I can see it on your face.”
“I’ll just have to get over it.”
“He’s not with Hail, is he?”
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“No, but how can I sleep with Danson knowing how Hail feels about him?”
“And does Danson still want to…sleep with you?”
“I don’t know. I think I hurt his feelings when I rejected him. Hail doesn’t understand
why Danson doesn’t come around.” Chance wiped his eyes. “I think Danson realises I was
right. I told him I missed him last night and he…”—Chance smiled—“he pressed his head to
mine for a minute then left.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know what to do.” Chance shook his head. “I’m going on the road with them. I
just need to keep my distance.”
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Chapter Four
The road was a whole other story. Groupies were throwing themselves at the band
every which way. There were wild parties and waking up without your clothes, not to
mention being hit on by anyone and everyone. Chance wanted no part of it. Most nights, he
found a room and locked himself inside.
Hail and Danson fought more than once after the parties, and it was killing Chance
knowing the reason. Hail’s jealousy was as out of control as Danson’s promiscuity. One
morning, Chance walked out of his bedroom in the hotel suite when Hail and Danson were
having it out. They were in Detroit and had already been on the circuit for more than three
months. Everyone needed a break. Chance had witnessed the way groupies threw
themselves at Danson and often he’d walk off with two or three on his arms. Chance would
desperately search for a quiet corner so he wouldn’t have to watch, and Hail would go
berserk.
Just as Chance came out of the room, a glass went flying, almost hitting him in the head.
“Hey! God damn it,” Chance protested.
Danson was lounging on the sofa, looking more amused than anything else. His hair
was tousled and he wore only a pair of faded jeans. “Watch it, crazy guy—you almost killed
your brother.”
Hail reached over to the bar and threw another glass, this time directly at Danson. It
missed him by a hair. “You son of a bitch!” Hail bellowed. “Don’t you give a shit about
anyone but yourself?”
Danson had risen off the sofa. He took the glass and sat it upright on the table. “You
don’t own me,” he replied, his voice calm.
Hail let out a sound that resembled a growl. “I’m getting out of here before I kick your
ass.” The door to the hotel suite flew open.
Danson glanced at Chance. “And what do you want?”
Chance was taken aback. “I want you two to stop fighting.”
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“Why don’t you go back and hide in your room?” Danson sneered. “You’re good at
that.”
“Why don’t you fuck yourself?” Chance threw back. “You might as well fuck yourself
since you’ve fucked everyone else.”
“Is that so?” he mocked. He took a few steps closer and Chance backed up against the
doorframe. “Well, I haven’t fucked you yet, have I?”
“No.” Chance swallowed. “And you’re not going to.”
Danson stood right in front of him now. He pushed some of his hair back. “What if I
told you that you’re the only one I want…”—he paused—“to fuck?”
Chance turned his head to the side. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Well…” Danson came closer. He took Chance’s face into his hands and forced him to
look into his eyes. “You’re going to hear it. I want you, Chance. And you want me back.”
Chance tried to break free but Danson’s body pressed hard against his. His mouth
tenderly captured his. Chance whimpered and their mouths opened to each other, tongues
mingling. Danson tore at the tie that held Chance’s hotel bathrobe together. He explored
Chance’s ribcage then lifted his cock with one hand. His mouth drifted to Chance’s neck.
Chance couldn’t move away. He placed his hand on Danson’s head and pressed him
downwards. Frantically, Danson kissed his chest, licked and nipped at his nipples, while his
hand brought Chance’s cock to life. Danson roughly prised Chance’s thighs apart with his
hand as he dropped to his knees then slowly licked the length of Chance’s shaft.
Chance’s fingers tightened in Danson’s hair. “God…God…yes…yes…fuck!”
His cock began to disappear into Danson’s mouth as he swallowed. “Shit.” He pulled at
Danson’s hair again, hard, earning a grunt of pain from Danson, who continued to use his
lips and his tongue. “I’m going… Shit…”
Danson glanced up at him, and Chance placed both hands on Danson’s face as his cum
shot into Danson’s mouth. Danson backed off suddenly, wiping Chance’s juices from his lips.
“It’s just a taste,” he whispered. “I want to fuck you, Chance. I want to fuck you so hard and
so long…” He got to his feet, his eyes raking over Chance’s body. He placed his fingers
under Chance’s chin. “I have to be alone with you. Meet me.”
“Where?”
“Tonight after the concert, we’ll just slip away from the party. No one will notice.”
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“Hail…” Chance said.
Danson reached down and kissed him again. “Please?”
Chance wrapped the cord around him. Danson walked off to his own room. A few
minutes later, Ivan came out of his suite and immediately phoned his girlfriend. He was
talking on the phone when breakfast arrived.
Chance went to find his brother. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking or really if he
was thinking at all. Maybe he thought it would only be one time and then…then what? He
and Danson would get it out of their system for good. That was it. It was the mystery.
But deep down, Chance knew that later that night when he and Danson slipped away
together and Danson took off his clothes, he’d realise he was making a big mistake. Once
he’d had Danson, he’d want him again and again. He would be like an addiction. Danson
would become his heroin.
* * * *
It wasn’t easy getting away. Hail seemed clingy that night, and Chance’s popularity
was growing, making him the centre of attention. Reporters and agents were crawling all
over the place. Danson looked delicious slumped in an armchair, with one jeans-clad leg
swinging over the arm. He had on the ripped jeans he’d worn for the last fifteen minutes on
stage and a jeans vest that didn’t close.
Chance kept thinking about Danson’s chest, about licking it and coaxing those nipples
into hard nubs of candy. The thoughts going through his mind kind of shocked him. His
libido was on high voltage. And the looks Danson gave him at every opportunity didn’t help.
Chance wanted his cock. He wanted to ride it and have it all to himself, and that was coming
from someone who’d never had anal sex before. He didn’t care if it hurt. He didn’t care about
anything except Danson’s naked body connecting with his.
Finally he excused himself and went to the bathroom. He gave Danson a sly look over
his shoulder then waited in the hallway. After a few minutes, Danson followed. He slipped a
piece of paper into Chance’s hand and turned his lips to his ear. “Meet me there. I’ll wait for
you.”
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Chance crumpled the paper in his fist and watched Danson leave by the side door.
Seconds later, Hail was there. He’d been drinking a little. He placed an arm around him.
“Hey bro, what’s up? What are you doing here?”
“I…ah…was going to go to the can, that’s all.”
“Go for it. Where’s the pretty boy, screwing a groupie?” He laughed and tipped his
glass to his lips.
“I think he left.”
Hail shook his head. “I’m beat. I’m going to find a corner to sleep in. Alone. Having
fun?”
“A blast,” Chance told him.
Ten minutes later, Chance left by the same door Danson had. He unwrinkled the paper
and went around to the front of the hotel, where he slipped into the back of a cab. He gave
the cab driver the address.
“Are you sure?” the cabbie asked.
Chance sucked in some air. “Yeah, I’m sure. I have no choice,” he said under his breath.
“It’s a hole,” he said, pulling away from the kerb. “It’s a big step down from this place.”
He indicated the luxury hotel Chance had just walked out of with a tilt of his head. “Aren’t
you Chance Laurence?”
Chance glanced up. “Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I am.”
“My daughter is crazy about you. She’s fifteen. I like you, too. You have a great voice.”
“Thanks, thanks so much,” Chance replied. I’ve made it. I’ve really made it. That was the
first time someone had referred to him as Chance Laurence, rather than Hail’s little brother.
It felt good. It felt really good.
When Chance arrived outside the rundown, three-storey hotel, he paid the driver and
got out of the taxi. As the taxi drove away, he didn’t have to take any time to think about
what he was doing. He wanted this. Just one time. Hail didn’t ever have to know.
Chance walked through the lobby then took the elevator to the top floor. He hurried
down the corridor, which smelt a little damp and musty, and sought out room five-oh-nine.
His breathing was laboured. The note had said the door would be unlocked, so he grabbed
the handle and turned.
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Danson reclined, naked on the bed, with one hand propped under his head. He smiled
that smile and Chance stifled a groan. He didn’t waste any time. He closed and locked the
door then tore off his clothes on the way over to the bed. It didn’t matter that he was almost a
virgin compared to Danson.
Chance crawled onto the bed and straddled Danson’s hips. Danson reached for his head
and pulled his mouth to his, and their lips collided like thunder, their kisses rough and
intense. Chance tore his mouth away and reared back. “Let me touch you,” he whispered,
breathing hard. “How I’ve dreamt of you naked like this, all mine.” Chance moved his lips
across Danson’s chest as he slid his fingers lightly across his rib cage. Chance followed his
hands with lips and tongue as they played along Danson’s taut, tanned skin.
Danson lifted his hips towards his mouth, and Chance let his cheek brush across
Danson’s erection. He breathed in his scent and then licked his lips before enveloping the
head of Danson’s cock in his mouth for a few seconds. Danson settled a hand on his hair, a
grunt of encouragement prompting Chance to open and take Danson’s shaft deeper into his
mouth, licking and sucking until he tasted the pre-cum.
Danson sat up, indicating that Chance should back off. He smiled at him, touching
Chance’s hair as he got to his knees. “I don’t want to come yet,” he said, facing him. He
pulled him into his arms for a moment—just held him, caressing his back, his thigh pressing
Chance’s erection. Then he pushed him back and began to kiss him lightly—butterfly kisses
across Chance’s chest, tongue moving in circles over his nipples then down until Chance felt
Danson lave his balls and then open his thighs.
Chance clutched the sheet in his fists as Danson began to suck his cock. Suddenly, he
turned him over and licked a line down his back. Chance bucked the mattress as Danson
slowly opened his buttocks. He felt the cold lube hit his hole. Danson used a finger to prod
him with the slick gel—first one then two, in and out, then three up to the knuckles. Danson
was fucking him with three fingers, while he reached under with the other hand and very
gently fondled his cock.
Chance let out a shout. He moaned with lust, feeling sensations he’d never had before
as Danson’s pleasuring went on and on. Just when Chance was sure he couldn’t take any
more, Danson yanked him upwards. He heard the ripping of a condom package a few
seconds later.
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“It’s…my first time,” Chance whispered.
Danson rolled him over and met his eyes. “Really?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, I mean…are you sure?” Danson held the condom in his hand.
Chance smiled and took the condom. He slowly rolled it onto Danson’s cock.
“Beautiful. You are so beautiful. How could I mind? I want you so much.”
“Look into my eyes,” he said, lifting Chance’s legs over his shoulders. “We’ll go slow.”
Chance felt the head of Danson’s erection pressing up against him.
“Ready?” Danson murmured. “Are you ready for me, baby?”
“Yeah…” Chance groaned. “Oh yeah, do it. Fuck me. Give me your cock.”
Danson slowly began to enter him. He pushed a little, held back, pushed some more. It
hurt like hell for a little while, but looking into Danson’s eyes made the pain seem far away.
Inch by succulent inch, Danson possessed him, and finally, with a burn that felt like heaven,
buried his cock deep inside him. It was bliss. Chance had never felt anything like it before.
Their bodies, slick with sweat and pre cum, slid against each other and moved in a frenzied
rhythm.
Danson was incredible to watch. The expression on Danson’s face when he was
orgasmic was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Danson pumped into him and stroked
Chance’s cock until they both cried out with relief. Then they collapsed together on the bed,
lying in each other’s arms. There were no words. The clock on the wall ticked off minutes
and Chance lamented each minute that went by, because it meant they were one step closer
to leaving the room.
They didn’t wait until dawn. Chance must have dozed a bit because one minute he was
lying in Danson’s arms, touching his hair, and the next minute Danson stood beside the bed,
pulling on his jeans. “Hey, sleepyhead.” He grinned.
Chance sat up in bed. “Hey, where are you going?”
“You mean, where are we going? We’ve got to get back to the hotel. It’ll be dawn soon.”
Chance smiled as he recalled what they’d been doing just a little while ago. He could
still feel Danson inside him. He wanted him again.
Danson threw Chance’s pants at him. “Come on. Get that dopey look off your face, kid.
I’ll go up to the suite first and you come up a few minutes later, okay?”
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The realisation of what they’d done suddenly hit Chance like a cold bucket of water.
Danson wasn’t his boyfriend. They couldn’t talk about this. Was it only a one-time thing? He
watched Danson button up his shirt with one hand as he took out his cell phone. He was
calling the cab.
Chance crawled out of bed and began to dress. He wanted to turn back the clock. He
hated this. “Danson?”
Danson glanced at him as Chance pulled on his pants.
“Yeah, babe?”
“What have we done?”
Danson put his hand behind Chance’s head and pulled him closer. There was passion in
his eyes…and conflict in his expression. He kissed him hard then released him.
Chance reached for his shirt. “We—”
Danson put a finger to his lips. He shook his head. Chance could have sworn that he
saw a gleam in his eyes…like an unshed tear.
They were silent in the taxi. Neither one of them said anything or looked at each other.
Chance’s gaze fell on Danson’s hand, which was resting on the seat. He almost touched it.
When the taxi pulled up, Danson paid the fare. If the driver recognised him, he didn’t say.
They both stood on the sidewalk. Danson glanced at the doorman. “I’ll go in. Wait a few
minutes then…”
Chance grabbed Danson’s arm, opened his mouth as if to say something. Again Danson
shook his head. “It will be okay,” was all he said then he disappeared inside. Chance took a
fast walk around the hotel. The sun was just coming up and the streets were practically
empty. Ten minutes later, he walked past the doorman and into the lobby.
Later that morning, Hail burst into his room. “Chance,” he said, bouncing on his bed,
“it’s after eleven. I thought we’d have breakfast.”
Chance stretched and yawned. He opened his eyes and there was Hail. For a second, he
avoided looking directly at him. He just couldn’t, knowing that a few hours ago he’d been in
bed with the man his brother loved. His ass was sore. He could still feel the pounding
Danson had given him and embraced it. God damn it. Is this pain all I’ll have of him? Soon that
will go away and I won’t have any part of him. We should tell Hail, tell him… But they couldn’t do
that. “Why don’t you have it sent up?” Chance murmured.
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“I want to go downstairs to the dining room. Management said they’ve arranged a
private corner. I want pancakes and waffles and…”
“You’re in a good mood,” Chance accused, rubbing his eyes.
He grinned. “This morning, guess where I found my Storm?”
Chance’s breath caught. He’s not your Storm. “Ah…where?”
“In his bed and guess what?”
“What?”
“He was alone. No groupie…or groupies. I think he may be changing.”
“Really?” Chance muttered, reaching for one of those hotel robes and throwing it on.
Hail lounged on his bed.
“I think he’s outgrowing this rock-style slut thing.”
Chance glanced at his brother. He didn’t know what to say.
Hail jumped off the bed. “Hurry up, get ready. I’m starved.”
“Are the guys joining us?”
“Nope, it’s a brother thing,” he said.
Chance gave him a faint smile. “Sounds good. Give me fifteen minutes.”
* * * *
Sometimes the guilt ate Chance alive, especially when he was alone with his brother,
sharing precious moments together. It was especially bad when Hail would speak of how
much he loved Danson. Yes, Chance pitied him, but then a part of him resented Hail. He
wanted to scream at him, No…Danson is mine. You can’t have him!
Chance knew that Danson was feeling it, too, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he
just got quiet around Hail, which in turn had Hail perplexed. Sometimes it felt like he was in
a nightmare. But their need for each other greatly surpassed the guilt and those moments of
discomfort. As the tour progressed, Chance fell deeper and deeper in love with Danson
Storm. As their love grew, so did their passion. Danson gave him everything in bed, and
Chance wanted more and more. They’d somehow managed to find ways to sneak away and
fuck at least twice in every city they’d performed in.
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Chance couldn’t wait to get Danson out of his clothes, touch him, and feel Danson
inside him. His body, his smile, his cock were all he thought of. Their time together—
whether in between shows or in some sleazy motel—was something private and separate
from the relationship he had with Hail. In that other world—that private place—Danson was
all his, yet in the world he shared with his brother he was Danson Storm, the lead guitarist in
a rock band. He was his mentor, his friend, someone he performed with and joked around
with. It was this segmented reality that allowed the affair to continue.
Six months into the tour, Chance awoke one night to hear Danson and Hail yelling at
each other. Hail had been drinking. Chance noticed he’d been drinking a little more than
usual, and he was banging on Danson’s bedroom door. “You’ll wake everyone,” Danson
chastised him.
“I don’t give a fuck,” came Hail’s reply.
Chance moved closer to the door to listen.
“You’re drunk,” Danson accused.
“You’re going to give me some. It’s been long enough,” bellowed Hail.
“I’m not going to give you anything,” Danson told him.
“Who are you getting it from, then? You don’t fuck the groupies anymore.”
“How in hell would you know?”
“I asked them. They all are very disappointed,” Hail sneered. “Come on, rock star, who
are you fucking…? Because it sure as hell isn’t me.”
Silence.
Chance closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the door. All of this was going
to turn to shit. He knew it now. They couldn’t go on like this. Hail would find out sooner or
later, and all hell would break loose. And what about his feelings for Danson? What was he
supposed to do, go on fucking Danson at flea-bag motels the rest of his life to protect Hail?
Danson loved Hail in the same way Chance loved him, like a brother. Did Danson love
Chance like a brother, too? In all the times they’d been in each other’s arms, Danson had
never once said he loved him.
They were still fighting. Hail’s voice had lost its anger. Now, he just sounded sad and
pathetic. “I love you, Danson, please,” Hail pleaded. “I’ll get on my knees if you want. Don’t
you know how much I love you?”
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“Yes,” Danson replied, his voice sounding compassionate. “I know.”
“I thought that you and I…eventually… When we were together, it was so good. It can
be like that again.”
Chance clenched his fists at his side, driving his top teeth into his bottom lip until he
tasted blood.
“You’re drunk, Hail. Let’s talk about this later.”
“Let me sleep with you, just to sleep, okay?”
Chance raised his head, smashing his fist against the door when he heard Danson say,
“Okay, come on.”
It was quiet after that. Only Chance paced the floor of his room. What the fuck? It took
everything he had not to tear open that door and walk into Danson’s room. He wanted to
punch something, kill somebody maybe. He tasted the bitterness of jealousy and he hated it.
Later that afternoon, they all sat on the plane that would take them to L.A. The tour was
over. Hail chatted with him most of the way, while Ivan and Eddie played checkers with a
member of the road crew.
Danson sat by himself near the back of the plane. He didn’t talk to anyone.
Hail was still discussing Chance’s tour in the limo on the way home. He was talking
about Chance’s record sales while Chance kept his gaze on Danson. They needed to talk.
“It’s fantastic,” Hail said, “I think your career is officially launched. I truly think we can
consider a tour on your own by next summer.”
“Fantastic.” Ivan gave Chance the high five. “You’re giving us a run for our money,
kid.”
Chance managed a smile. “I don’t think you have all that much to worry about.”
Eddie was saying something to Danson now about some song they were writing. “Let’s
do some work on it tonight,” Danson agreed.
“You need me?” Hail asked.
“No,” Danson shook his head. “Not right now.”
“Good, I want to take a swim in the pool,” Hail replied. “You guys up for it?” He
looked at Chance and Ivan.
“I’ll take a rain check,” Chance said when they got into the house. Maybe he could get
five minutes alone with Danson.
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It was almost an hour later when Hail and Ivan hit the pool. Danson had already
disappeared with Eddie downstairs in the music room. Chance hated to interrupt them but
he had to.
The door was unlocked when Chance walked in. Both men looked at him. “Ah, sorry.
Danson, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Can’t it wait?” he asked.
“No, it can’t. Sorry, Eddie.”
“It’s cool,” Eddie said, “going to go upstairs for a bite. Starving.”
When Eddie left, Chance closed the door.
“What is it?” Danson didn’t look at him.
Chance didn’t realise how angry he was until he walked up to Danson and shoved him
hard.
“Hey,” Danson protested, “what the fuck?”
“You…you slept with Hail before we left Georgia.”
“I did not sleep with Hail.”
“I heard you,” Chance said between clenched teeth. “He asked to sleep with you and
you—”
“We didn’t do anything,” Danson muttered angrily, rubbing his shoulder.
“Doesn’t matter,” Chance sighed. “What the fuck are we doing?”
“I don’t know,” he said, looking away.
“What in hell am I going to do? What if he finds out about us? We need to tell him.”
“Tell him?” Danson looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Yes, tell him. Tell him about us.” Chance met Danson’s eyes.
“We can’t.” Danson shook his head. “It would break his heart…and ruin your
relationship. He’d never forgive you. And it would be the end of Hail Storm.”
Chance’s mouth fell open. There—Danson had said it…spoken all their fears aloud.
Tears sprang to Chance’s eyes.
Danson moved closer and touched his cheek. “Hail told me when he was laying beside
me that he couldn’t live without me, that if we weren’t together, he wouldn’t want to… I
tried to tell him it wasn’t like that for me. He won’t listen. He thinks eventually I’ll come
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around, that I’m just immature.” Danson sighed. “How can I tell him I’m in love with his
brother?”
The tears spilled down Chance’s cheeks. “You…you’re in love…with me?”
He nodded.
“You never said.” Chance put his arms around him and held him tight. “Danson, I love
you, too. I love you so much, baby.”
Danson separated himself from him. “That’s why I have to end this.”
Chance shook his head. “What?”
“Listen to me,” he placed his hands on Chance’s shoulders. “There’s too much at
stake—my career, your relationship with your brother. He loves you so much, and you love
him. If he knew…it would be the end.”
Chance tasted the tears in his mouth. He knew Danson was right. It had all been
leading up to this. “I’ll leave,” he whispered, “get my own place, but…Danson,” he was
sobbing hard now, “one more night?” He looked at him, his eyes pleading, “One more night
to say goodbye?”
Danson swallowed hard. “It would easier if we didn’t. We shouldn’t risk it.”
“No,” Chance whispered, “I can’t just let go of you like this. Please, one more night?”
He wiped at his eyes.
Danson turned away. For a minute he said nothing then, “My condo tomorrow night.
Find an excuse, and I’ll find one too. Now go, tell Eddie I’m ready.”
Chance walked to the door. He felt as if he carried a ton on his back. His heart was
broken. He placed a hand on the door.
“Tomorrow night,” Danson said, “we say goodbye for good, Chance.” His voice broke.
“Promise?”
Chance couldn’t speak. He just nodded dumbly and left the room.
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Chapter Five
The Ending
That evening, Chance excused himself and went to bed early. He didn’t sleep. He tossed
and turned all night. He told himself that he was young, that other young men had gone
through this. He’d get over it. He’d get over Danson.
No matter how many times his head said it, his heart just wouldn’t listen.
He got out of bed the following morning feeling like crap. He went to the window,
expecting to see Danson in the pool but he wasn’t. Hail wasn’t outside, either. When Chance
came down the stairs, he saw Hail sitting in the living room on the sofa. He had some sort of
a newspaper in one hand. His head was in the other.
“Hail?” Chance moved closer. “Are you all right?”
When Hail looked up at him, his face was a mask of anger. He stood, threw the paper at
him and walked out of the room.
Chance narrowed his eyes as he bent over to pick up the paper. He tried to focus on the
headline. It was one of those celebrity trash magazines with no limit as to what lies they
could print. Only this was no lie. Chance couldn’t believe the photograph in front of him. He
sank down onto the sofa when he felt as if his legs wouldn’t support his weight anymore. His
hands shook. There on the front page was a photograph of Danson and him coming out of a
hotel lobby. He wasn’t sure what city it was. There had been so many of those hotels. The
headline read, “Danson Storm and Chance Laurence’s secret affair.”
They’d been careful. How could it be? Chance threw down the paper. He had to find
Hail, had to explain that it wasn’t just sex. They loved each other. Where in hell was Danson?
As Chance came around the corner, his suitcase came crashing down the stairs, clothes
tumbling every which way. Chance danced out of the way. “Hail!” Chance ran upstairs to
find him. He was standing in Chance’s room ripping the sheets off the bed. “Hail!” Chance
grabbed his arm.
Hail turned and without warning hit him hard in the mouth.
Chance stumbled back. He tasted blood. “Hail, listen to me.”
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Hail turned and glared at him. “You are my brother. How could you do this? I saved
your wretched life and you betray me right under my nose, you and Danson.” Hail’s voice
faltered. “How could you, Chance?”
Chance would have preferred the anger to the sadness. “I love you, Hail. We didn’t
mean to… We…”
“Didn’t mean to? How long has this been going on?”
“Not…” Chance sighed. There had been enough lies. “For a while. We never meant it to
happen. It just did. I love him.”
“You love him.” Hail practically spat out the words. “He’s mine, God damn it. He’s
always been mine.”
“He’s not yours,” Chance threw back, anger brewing. “I don’t know why in hell you
always thought you owned him. He never said he was yours. He loves you like a brother.
He…”
“Like a brother, ha!” Hail sneered. “Love from a brother doesn’t mean shit, does it?” He
met his gaze, his face filled with hostility. “I hate you, Chance. I hate you. You’ve taken
everything from me. You have our father, isn’t that enough? Now you have to go and take
the only man I love?”
Chance lowered his head. “Please don’t. We…were going to end it. We didn’t want to
hurt you and—”
“It’s too late now,” he said softly. “Way too late. Your stuff is downstairs. Get out of my
house.”
A few minutes later, Chance heard the door slam shut. He picked up the phone and
dialled Danson’s cell phone. After a few rings, Danson picked up. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Chance asked miserably.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Where in the fuck are you?”
“Chance,” he snapped. “What is it? I’m at the studio.”
“He knows.”
“Who…what?”
“Hail knows…about us. Come home. I’m leaving.” Chance hung up.
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Chance picked up all the clothes on the stairs and closed his suitcase. Sophia
wordlessly helped him. She had sent the girls outside when the argument started. She didn’t
say anything for a while, just sat with Chance as he waited with his bag. “Where will you
go?” she asked him after a little while.
“I don’t know. I have a career now, thanks to Hail Storm, and an income. I can get my
own place.”
“You are so young,” she said softly, caressing his hair. “Why don’t you go home?”
“I can’t,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t forgive my father, and I don’t
want to ruin my mother’s life.”
“And Danson?”
Chance broke down at that point, his chest heaving as he sobbed. Sophia put an arm
around him. “It hurts so bad to love that much,” she whispered. “So young.”
When the door opened, they both looked up. Danson stood there. Sophia nodded at
him and walked off into the other room.
“What in hell happened?” he demanded.
Chance held back his tears and stood up. “Some reporter snapped a picture of us
coming out of a hotel. Hail had the magazine in his hands this morning. I don’t know how he
got it.”
“Jesus,” Danson said, running a hand through his hair. “What a way for him to find
out.”
“He kicked me out.”
“I’m leaving the band,” Danson said.
Chance’s eyes widened. “No, don’t. Why?”
“It’s the only way. I can’t be what Hail wants and I can’t hurt him anymore.”
Chance shook his head. “What have I done?”
Danson sighed. “You didn’t do it alone.”
A horn honked outside. “Taxi is here,” Chance said.
“Where are you going?” Danson moved closer.
“I’d go with you but…” He felt guilty for saying that.
Danson shook his head. “No, we can’t. Maybe if we’re apart, Hail will come around and
you’ll be able to salvage your relationship. He’s your brother, I’m just your…” He paused.
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“My sometimes fuck?” Chance retorted angrily. “Is that what you are? Did I destroy my
brother, make my brother hate me for a sometimes fuck? You said you loved me. Was that a
lie?”
Danson looked away. “The taxi is waiting.”
“Danson, will I ever see you again?”
“Go,” he whispered, not looking at him. “Please, Chance, just go.”
Chance grabbed his suitcase and flung open the front door. He glanced back once and
noticed that Danson was sitting on the stairs, but he couldn’t see his face.
* * * *
Chance checked into the nearest hotel and refused to answer any questions from the
press. His cell phone rang off the hook with calls from managers and recording people. Hail
Storm was no longer officially producing his stuff or managing his career. He had plenty of
offers but was in no mood to talk to any of the callers.
He lay on the bed in the room with the lights off. Every time the phone rang, he
checked to see who it was. He kept hoping Danson would call him—or Hail—but no luck.
He was on his own.
After a week at the hotel, he decided that he was leaving L.A. He found a small condo
in San Francisco and for a while he lived off his record sales. Eventually, he had to go back
into the studio. He got another manager and signed with a new record label.
Two months later, the world sat in shock when the news hit the headlines—Hail Storm
was breaking up. Danson had followed through with what he’d said and left. The group was
now called Hail, and his brother was back to work doing a new music video. Later that year,
Chance watched their new video on television. It was good but the new guitarist couldn’t
hold a light to Danson. He cried when he saw his brother, realising what a hole he’d left in
his life.
Chance got busy recording a new CD. His popularity soared. Every night he was
invited to a different party where all the celebrities went, and every morning he found a new
face in his bed, usually one without a name. He was bleeding inside, and he didn’t know
how to stop the pain.
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Then, more than a year later, his mother called him out of the blue to say she was
leaving his father. It was a shock but also a relief. She knew about Hail. After finally
accepting that Chance wanted nothing to do with him anymore, his father had confessed it.
Shortly after the breakup of his marriage, his father showed up unexpectedly on Chance’s
doorstep. Chance just stared at him in disbelief. He hadn’t seen his father in over two years.
“Can I come in?” his father asked humbly.
Chance nodded, opening the door to his luxury condo.
“I’ve lost your mother.” Tears were in his eyes. “I should have told her. I regret lying.
And Chance,” he said, “I regret not taking responsibility for Hail, pretending I didn’t have
another son when I did. Deep down in my heart, I love him. I really do.”
“How can you say that? You don’t even know him. And he suffered, grew up poor
and—”
“I want to make it up to him. I want to know him. Do you think you can…?”
Chance laughed a bitter laugh. How could he hate his father? They’d both betrayed
Hail. “I would if I could. You see, my brother hates me.”
“What? Why? None of this is your fault. You didn’t abandon him.”
“Not for that. You see, I slept with the man he loves…and I miss them both so much.
I…”
His father stared at him. When Chance started to cry, he held him, much as he had
when Chance had been a child. They both cried and somewhere deep inside, Chance forgave
him.
The visit gave Chance the courage to write to his brother.
Dad is here living with me now in San Francisco. His marriage is over. He regrets the past. He
wants to see you. If you can find it in your heart to see him…please do. He’s a broken man. He’s not
practicing medicine anymore. I’m not sure what to do with him.
At the end of the letter, he wrote, I love you very much. I wish I could regret Danson but I
can’t. If it’s any consolation, I won’t ever love any man like that again. I’m miserable. I miss you both
so much I can barely get through the days, and if it wasn’t for the endless strangers, I wouldn’t get
through the nights either. God, if you could forgive me, brother, I’d give anything. I hope you are well.
Chance.
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Chance didn’t expect a reply. A few weeks later, this story—labelled a work of fiction—
was published with some last minute changes, and the book hit the presses.
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Epilogue
Last Minute Edits
I’m almost twenty-two now and I guess the question remains, have I learned anything
from my experience? The answer is a resounding yes. I’ve learned a lot about love. First, love
is very hard to get over. You just can’t kick it to the kerb and you can’t bring in substitutes.
Also, there is a fine line between love and hate, and Hail and I toggled that line for a long
time.
Danson actually did the right thing leaving Hail Storm, although it tore him apart at the
time. We all needed time to heal and that distance, at least between Hail and Danson, was
really the solution after all.
Let me tell you what happened. My father arrived, and I wrote to Hail, not expecting
much. During that time, my father and I reconnected and I forgave him, appreciating the
courage it took for him to try to make amends. About three weeks later, I was eating dinner
with my father at my condo and the doorbell rang. I got up to answer it and just about fell
over.
Hail stood there. He looked a little older and had grown a beard but he looked good. I
started to cry when I saw him, and he stepped inside and hugged me for a long time. “It’s
okay, little brother,” he said. “I forgive you.” I don’t know if he’d read the story, the one
meant to honour him. I don’t know whether that book had brought him to my door or not. It
wasn’t important. Hail was looking over my shoulder and I moved away to give them room.
Our father stood there in the hallway. I glanced from one to the other, noting how much
alike they looked. “Hello, Son,” my father said to him.
Hail nodded and smiled. I quietly walked outside to give them space. I sat down on the
stoop, my heart swelling with gratitude. I’d missed my brother so much. I hoped, now, we
could put everything behind us. But there was still the matter of Danson. I wasn’t sure about
that one. Two brothers in love with the same man, and I was still in love with Danson. I
knew I always would be.
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Twenty minutes later, Hail came outside. He sat down beside me on the stoop. He’d
obviously been crying, his eyes red and puffy, but he smiled at me. “Hey, baby brother,” he
said softly, “I hear your latest record was a hit.”
“Yeah, thanks. I owe it all to you.”
“Like hell you do. Has nothing to do with me.”
We both knew what hung between us but neither of us dared speak his name. It was
just like when I was a teenager—it felt almost sacred.
“How’d it go with Dad?”
“It’s going. It’s going to take time.”
“Yeah.”
“Now that he’s close by, we’ve agreed to try to get together.”
“How’s that new guitarist working out for you?” I asked.
“Very good, when he’s not playing guitar.”
I looked at him, confused. “What?”
“Chance, I’m in love. Frankie and I are together now.”
“Oh Hail, I’m so happy for you.” I hugged him.
He pushed me away with a laugh. “I know why you’re happy—because I’m over
Danson.”
A sudden pain caught in my chest.
Hail touched my cheek. “Kid, it’s okay. I love Frankie now. Danson was just a fantasy.
He never loved me the way I wanted him to, but I do need him.”
“What do you mean you need him?”
“I need him to come back to the band. Frankie wants to get into music production. He’s
not really a performer. I need Danson. He was the heart and soul of Hail Storm. I want to
climb the charts again. I can’t do it without the other half of this band.”
“How can I do that? I don’t even know where he is and…he won’t come back.”
“I know where he is. Don’t you know why he left? He was distraught after you left that
day. He told me he was leaving and he said to forgive you. I begged him to stay, of course,
not only because I thought I loved him but for the sake of the band. He said he couldn’t. He
told me he was in love with you and… You get the picture. He left for your sake, thinking
that I could forgive you if I got over him. He was right. Here.” Hail handed him a piece of
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paper and stood. “Call Danson. He’s living in Reno, playing in some shit band. Tell him it’s
okay now, I’m happy and I want the two of you to be together. I could call him myself, but
it’s not me he wants to hear from.”
You don’t know how long I held that paper in my hand before I picked up the phone. I
got Danson’s voicemail. I hung up then called back. The voicemail came back on. “It’s Storm,
I’m incognito, leave a message.” I smiled, played it three times just to hear his voice, then
finally said, “Danson, it’s Chance. I love you. Call me.” After I put down the phone, I cursed
myself. What to hell was I thinking, leaving a message like that?
I stressed out all night. Maybe Danson heard it and just deleted it. At four in the
afternoon the next day, after a day at the studio, my cell phone rang. I scrambled to get it out
of my pocket. The number said restricted. My heart raced. “Hello?”
“I love you,” a deep, male voice said.
I gripped the phone. “Ah…” I laughed through my tears. “Is this a prank call?”
His husky laughter came over the phone. “No.”
“Danson?”
“Yes?”
“Baby,” I said softly. “I miss you so much. I’ve seen Hail.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
He laughed. “He called me today. His message wasn’t quite as dramatic as yours, and
he didn’t hang up three times.”
Chance smiled. “He wants you back in the band.”
“So he says, and where do you want me?”
“Back in bed,” I said.
“That can be arranged.”
My heart hammered in my chest. “It’s been so long.”
“Not that long. You’ve been in my dreams.”
“I hear you’re playing in a…band?”
“Shut up,” he muttered. “They’re a great bunch of guys, but I think they’ll have to start
looking for a new guitarist.”
“Where are you, babe? How long will it take to get to you?”
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“Not long. Look to your right.”
I dropped the phone. There he was, standing in the parking lot—his hair, now a little
shorter, blowing around his face, dark sunglasses perched on his nose. I ran to him, almost
knocked him over and he laughed. We kissed there in the parking lot like it was our last kiss
but actually it was to be the first of many.
He had tears in his eyes as he looked down at me. “It’s been a long road back but I
knew somehow at the end of it, you’d be here in my arms.”
I wish I’d had Danson’s faith and courage. It would have saved me a lot of suffering. I’d
made a mistake but it had been in the name of love, a love I couldn’t deny. We should have
told Hail right away what was happening instead of sneaking around, but we tried not to
hurt him. And we did anyway.
I would never again go behind Hail’s back for anything. We made an oath, a brother’s
oath. And finally, I had the two things in life I needed most—my big brother and the man I
love—and I would never let either one of them go. There was no room in our lives for hate,
even when it came to our father, who also was deserving of forgiveness.
We’ve all come together this year for Hail’s thirtieth birthday at the vacation house Hail
and Frankie bought in New England. Outside the window, the landscape is a sea of autumn
colours as the leaves continue to fall. It is a time of renewal. Soon the snow will cover the
ground and bury those leaves. New ones will sprout come spring, vibrant and green. It’s a
beautiful time of year, autumn, and I’m happy to be here with everyone. Dad is here, too,
sitting beside Hail and Frankie. He’s laughing at something Hail said and my mother, who is
next to Frankie, has given him a playful nudge. Even though my parents are divorced, they
get along fine. My father is practicing in L.A. now, where he can see both his sons often.
Eddie and his new girlfriend, Christie, are sitting across from them. Christie is giggling
about the fact that Eddie doesn’t seem to like peas. “Everyone likes peas, Eddie!” Christie
isn’t the sharpest tack in the shed but somehow she’s captured Eddie’s heart. Ivan and Marie
are also at the table. They got married last spring and are expecting their first baby in March.
Since Ivan found out about the baby, he won’t let Marie out of his sight. She gets annoyed
that he’s so protective, but everyone else thinks it’s cute.
And at my side is Danson Storm, the most beautiful man in the room…actually, the
most beautiful man in the entire world. Of course I’m biased. My rock god is presently trying
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to talk my brother into doing another benefit in early January. Hail wants to take Frankie on
a trip to the tropics instead. It’s a hard sell, and Danson has been at it for days. He’s giving it
his best shot, and in the end Hail will probably succumb and put off the trip. I’ve always
maintained that Danson could talk the devil into attending church. I still feel a little dazed
when I look at him. He still makes my passion rise and can carry me away with just his voice.
And when he makes love to me, he can bring me to grateful tears. Even touching his arm
now turns me on. I shake my head at him. “Give Hail a break, sweetheart. It is his birthday.”
There’s a twinkle in Danson’s eye when he looks at me. He laughs that laugh. Hail gives
me a look of gratitude but deep down he still has a soft spot for Danson. Danson leans over
and kisses my mouth sweetly, which means he’s letting me win…for now. He’ll be back at it
tomorrow.
I look over at Hail, his hand resting casually on Frankie’s forearm. They are so in love,
almost as in love as Danson and I. I say almost because I can’t imagine any two people
happier than we are.
Danson squeezes my hand under the table. He has all my attention. I look into those
beautiful eyes and he smiles. My heart swells with happiness. I’m eternally turned on. I’m
his.
Dad disappears and returns with the birthday cake. We all sing Happy Birthday and Hail
blows out the candles then he looks at Frankie. Not hard to know what he wished for, I think.
My brother—the talented, good looking Hail Dean, who has given me so much…even life—
hugs our father then shares a long kiss with Frankie. I hug my beautiful Danson, while Hail
cuts the cake and Eddie demands larger pieces.
Hate is always the underdog when love and forgiveness join forces, and around this
table there is love and forgiveness in abundance.
www.total-e-bound.com
About the Author
I write not only for my own pleasure, but for the pleasure of my readers. I can’t
remember a time in my life when I haven’t written and told stories. When I’m not
writing, I’m dreaming about writing. Eroticism between consenting adults, in all its
many forms, is the icing on the cake of life but one does not live by sex alone. The
story of how two people find love in spite of the odds is what really turns me on.
Email:
D.J. Manly loves to hear from readers. You can find his contact information, website
and author biography at
.
Also by D.J. Manly
Schism
Gladiators: House of Simeon
Gladiators: House of Phineas
Gladiators: House of Nicolaus
Gladiators: The Next Generation
Sins of Summer: Mayze
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FULL
A.J. Llewellyn
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Dedication
To anyone who has struggled with weight and food issues. May you always feel…full!
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Weight Watchers: Weight Watchers International, Inc.
Zumba: Zumba Fitness LLC
I Love Lucy: Desilu Productions
Sweet Lady Jane bakery: SLJ Desserts
Sweatin’ to the Oldies: Richard Simmons
Chanel: Chanel S.A.
Academy Awards: Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences
I Am Short, Fat, and Proud of That, Winnie the Pooh & the Blustery Day: Walt Disney Productions
Baskin-Robbins Love Potion #31 Ice Cream: Dunkin’ Brands
Universal Studios: NBCUniversal
Friends: Warner Brothers Television
Healthy Choice: ConAgra Foods, Inc.
Hold Tight: The Andrews Sisters
iPod: Apple Computer, Inc.
Thinner: Conair Corporation
Escalade: General Motors, Inc.
Ken doll: Mattel Corporation
Diesel: Diesel S.p.A.
Joe’s jeans: Joe’s Jeans, Inc.
Abercrombie and Fitch: Abercrombie & Fitch, Co.
Jimmy Choos: Jimmy Choo Ltd.
Thanaz: Diesel S.p.A.
Alternative: Alternative Apparel
Macy’s: Macy’s Inc.
Bloomingdale’s: Bloomingdale’s Inc.
59th and Lex Cafe: Bloomingdale’s Inc.
CVS: CVS Caremark Corporation
BevMo: BevMo!
Iced VoVos: Arnott’s Biscuits Ltd.
Yes: Yes
You Will Always Find Me in the Kitchen at Parties: Jona Lewie
Smoke on the Water: Deep Purple
Prius: Toyota Motor Corporation
Old Spice: Procter & Gamble
The Red Hot Chili Peppers: The Red Hot Chili Peppers
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eBay: eBay Inc.
Krispy Kreme: Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, Inc.
Hot Tamales: Just Born
Mars Bar: Mars Incorporated
Coppola: Francis Ford Coppola Presents
The Ghost and Mrs. Muir: 20th Century Fox
Goodwill: Goodwill Industries, International, Inc.
Levi’s: Levi Strauss & Co.
Taco Bell: Yum! Brands, Inc.
Tums: GlaxoSmithKlein
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Chapter One
It started with me stuffing my face with somebody else’s birthday cake, and ended with
my finding a mysterious business card that sent me on a bizarre, life-altering journey with
just one word—Full.
Yeah, I know. Weird, right?
Full.
I’d been the one delegated to pick up my sister Cyan’s birthday cake that fateful Friday
night. What did they think they were doing asking the fat guy to pick up a cake and head
clear across the San Fernando Valley in peak-hour traffic? What did they think would
happen?
It started with just one rose.
I’d lifted the lid just to check on Cyan’s creamy, two hundred dollar creation from
Sweet Lady Jane bakery. I’d been so good up until now. As I waited on the 101 freeway-
turned-parking-lot near the 405 interchange, I got antsy. It was hot. Fall was always hotter in
Los Angeles than the actual summer.
On the radio, local blowhards John and Ken were discussing the outrage of a pizzeria in
the Los Angeles suburb of Maywood that only accepted pesos for pizza. Whilst they gnashed
their teeth over this and the whole illegal immigration issue, all I could think of was how
much I’d like a pizza right now. Since I didn’t have one, cake seemed like a pretty good
substitute.
I really did open the box just to check on that expensive cake. Honest.
The delicious scent of rose-infused icing tickled my nose and shot straight through to
my taste buds without my permission. Just one icing rose. I could do it. I could cover up the
space. At the age of thirty-two, I’ve been hiding my eating habits for years. What was one
single rose?
Mmm…so tasty. I ate it in one gulp, my starved senses wallowing in all that butter
cream. For three days I’d been on my new Weight Watchers diet and my body had no idea
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what had happened to it. Dare I eat a second one? I looked around. Cars on either side of me,
the drivers in varying degrees of stress.
But I had a cake.
Yeah…I did dare.
That’s when my problems started. The cake didn’t look right. I had to even things up a
little and pick a rose from the other side. Uh-oh. Now it looked like it was missing something.
On the radio, John and Ken screamed at some hapless guy from the pizzeria who could
barely speak English.
“You no want to order pizza?” he kept asking. “Is nice!”
“This isn’t Mexico, amigo!” the radio hosts shouted in unison.
I turned down the radio as I peered inside the box. The cake looked weird. Okay. I’d
gone too far. Maybe…okay, maybe if I ate a couple of leaves that would make things look
better. I checked the dashboard clock. Ten minutes to six. I had ten minutes to make it to my
sister’s Encino house in time for her pre-dinner drinks.
I ate a rose from the middle edge of the cake, twisting the box around on the passenger
seat. I took a credit card from my wallet and used it to smooth down the icing. I began to
worry about bacteria from the card. Hell, I’d welcome death by bacteria if my sister saw the
cake in this condition and freaked out. She’d murder me for sure, but in a slow and painful
way. She’d make me watch Zumba DVDs or something. She was an exercise freak.
Blinking, I wondered what the hell had come over me. I was on a strict eating plan of
twenty-nine points a day on Weight Watchers. How many points were in a single rose? How
many had I eaten? Two, three…nine?
Now, I did feel a bit guilty. It sort of looked…bare. It was like that episode of I Love
Lucy…you know, the one where Lucy and Ethel wear the same dress and rip the flowers
from each other’s bodices live on camera.
Each time I tried to fix my problem, I made another one. I began to panic, especially
when the traffic started to move. I drove with the cake perched on my knee. It got all mushed
up in the box. Maybe that would be my excuse.
Once I exited the freeway, I pulled over to do some damage control. I drove the few
short blocks to Cyan’s house then checked my face in the rear view mirror for tell-tale signs
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of icing. Man, the mint-flavoured leaves had been lovely. I checked the cake one last time. It
didn’t look too bad. Hey, maybe I could score a part-time job as a cake decorator.
I grabbed her birthday gift, a DVD set of Richard Simmons’ Sweatin’ to the Oldies she’d
requested, and the cake and hoofed it up the front walkway. It took quite a while for Cyan’s
husband, Hugo, to open the front door. During the wait, I devised a foolproof plan—I would
hold the box down low and their new Rottweiler pup, Gravy, would undoubtedly bowl me
over.
Applauding my brilliance, I couldn’t wait for him to send the cake flying and for my
transgression to go undetected. My sister was my diet Nazi. She would go bonkers. God,
what had possessed me to go gonzo on those roses?
“Hey,” Hugo said as he opened the door. He grabbed his goofy dog’s collar and pulled
him back. Bad luck for me.
Poor Gravy scrabbled to get close to me. Hugo looked peaked. As well he should. With
everything going on with him lately, he actually looked damned good. “How’s work?” he
asked me.
“Pretty good. You?”
He seemed to sag a little. “Three of my clients are facing tax evasion charges thanks to
their former business manager. I put out one fire and another one starts.”
Gravy kept jumping up, trying to reach the cake.
I had to make a show of holding the cake high as I passed through to the kitchen. I
caught the significant look my brother-in-law shot my beautiful sister and I felt terrible for
him. Cyan is the most gorgeous, exotic creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. And a sweetheart, too.
It’s just that I know things about her and Hugo nobody else knows and the burden is great.
And people wonder why I eat.
Hugo left me at the kitchen door and I followed his and Gravy’s progress outside.
“Hey,” my sister said, looking up from a tray of canapés. She looked amazing in a black
Chanel skirt and jacket and pearls. Her shoulder-length black hair gleamed. I kept mine short
and it not so much gleamed as resembled steel wool, according to my most recent fiasco of a
date.
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For a brief moment, I mourned the end of my relationship with Diego Sanchez. My
heart gave a lurch. God…eight months and it still hurt. Was I a man or a mouse? Could I
really be such a sap? I bet he never even thinks about me.
She came over and hugged me. Her hair smelt like toffee apples. It always smelt like
toffee apples. I hugged her back. She felt bony. I felt cushiony. And I knew it.
Her bible, What Would Jackie O Do?, stood propped on the windowsill. I could see it was
discreetly hiding her blinged-out cell phone. Oh man, she was expecting a call
from…whatshisname.
She tore open the gift bag I handed her, squealing in an excited way over the DVDs
even though she knew I’d bought them for her.
“Oh, Barney,” she trilled. “In a few more months, you’ll be wearing candy-striped
dolphin shorts, just like Richard Simmons!”
Only if they come in plus sizes. I gave her a smile that felt like a grimace. Wait until she sees
the cake!
Outside the kitchen’s massive, gleaming glass doors, I could see dinner guests milling
about on the lawn with cocktail glasses in hand.
I love my sister, really I do, but the pretentiousness of pre-dinner drinks was not lost on
me.
She and Hugo have barely managed to hang on to their house, nestled across the road
from Encino Park with a bunch of other houses that all try hard to look more expensive than
they really are.
Cyan, a historical romance novelist, just about squeaks by on her royalties. Hugo, an
accountant, eats more Tums than anyone I know.
“Garden looks great,” I said, trying to distract her as she opened the damned cake box.
“Doesn’t it? Can you believe Hugo got up at four o’clock this morning to spray paint
the grass? On his hands and knees! He’s amazing.”
“Yes, he is.” I bit off the words I wanted to ask. So why are you cheating on him?
She paused then gasped. “What did you do to my cake, Barney?”
I gulped. Had she noticed there were a few roses missing?
“There are supposed to be thirty roses on this cake, each one denoting a year of my life
on this planet.” My sister fumed. It was not a pretty sight. “There are only fourteen here.”
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Oh. Who knew she’d be counting the damned roses?
“Well, sweetie,” I said, “Maybe they think you don’t look your age. You look fabulous,
you know.”
I, Barney Calloway, can be a bit of a cad…when it comes to food. When it comes to
people, I am strictly cash and carry. I will pump them up, make ‘em feel good. As my old
vaudeville uncle once said, if I can’t dazzle them with my footwork, I’ll blind them with
blarney and be on my way.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. They emailed me a jpeg. This is not the cake I ordered.”
Holy moly. Didn’t she have better things to do than look at pictures of cakes all day?
I shrugged. “Want me to take it back?”
“No, I don’t want you to take it back,” she snapped, turning away from me. That was a
close call. I watched her plopping the cake in the fridge and I hunted around for some
champagne. Conversationally, I am not awkward socially but weight-wise, I am. I have
skipped countless functions, begged off numerous parties and family events because I am so
self-conscious. I’d been doing really well on Weight Watchers until the war of the roses. I
started to panic. How many points were in a rose made of icing? How many were in…God
help me…sixteen of them?
A few. That was all. Surely just a few. I found the champagne and poured myself a glass
as my sister glowered over a baking tray covered in almond slivers.
Outside, the air was cooler and fragrant. Ah, yes. Night-blooming jasmine. I swept my
gaze over the participants. Hugo’s nice but entirely too weird parents held court near the
swimming pool. A couple of Hugo’s celebrity clients were in da house…or the spray-painted
garden, to be accurate.
My sister adores celebrities. I was surprised when one of them smiled at me. I knew
who he was right away. I wasn’t sure, however, that he was really smiling at me so I glanced
over my shoulder and checked. I was alone. I swivelled my gaze back to him. Yep, Jaxon
Latham, the hottest actor this side of the continent, was staring. And smiling.
At me.
I tried not to trip over my own feet as I sucked in my gut and stepped forwards, neatly
sidestepping a lawn chair but managing to step on the dog’s paw. Gravy screamed and
howled, throwing himself around like I’d broken his foot. Considering my size, I just might
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have done that. Of course, everybody turned to look. I bent down to tend to him and split my
pants. Unfortunately I’d been busy all week and was out of good underwear and had
resorted to wearing the ‘Kiss Me I’m Irish’ boxers my sister had given me on St Patrick’s Day.
Backing away from the crowd now surrounding the flailing dog, I began to worry that I
really had broken his foot. At five feet ten inches and weighing two hundred and fifty
pounds, I was no…gazelle.
I watched as Hugo and the others fawned over Gravy who lapped up the attention. The
poor dog whined, and I gulped over the tears that threatened to overtake me. Why did bad
shit always happen to me?
Just as I thought things couldn’t get worse, I stepped on something. A foot. Oh, God. I
fell back…straight into the arms of Jaxon Latham, who had somehow turned up behind me.
“I’m so sorry!” I said, stricken.
“No worries.” His deep, sexy Australian accent made me swoon.
“Did I break your foot?” I asked, anxiously.
“No. But you want to try again?”
I peered up at him through blurry eyes. The dog’s histrionics were really getting to me.
“Have a drink,” Jaxon advised, straightening me and rearranging my champagne glass
in my hand. Half of it had spilled. I took his advice and downed it. That felt a bit better.
Hugo stood now, looking relieved. “He’s okay. He’ll be limping for a day or two, but no
broken bones.” He gave me a critical glance.
“Let’s get you another drink,” Jaxon said, taking my elbow and steering me into the
kitchen.
“Nice boxers,” he said. “Are you really Irish?”
Holy crap. “Um…no. Only on vacation.” What the hell kind of response was that? I beat
myself up mentally for a bit as he snatched a bottle of champagne from the kitchen island
and refilled my glass.
“Oh, let me know when you’re on your next holiday so I can kiss you.” Jaxon grinned.
Okay. Now wait a second. I knew Hugo managed his business affairs and he’d hinted
that Jaxon was gay—albeit deeply, darkly closeted. He had just come off a pair of huge action
movies and was the hottest thing in Hollywood. With his dark blond hair, almond-coloured
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eyes, slim but muscular build and cheeky grin, he was the new Hugh Jackman. And he
played for my team! Yay us!
He grinned at me. I didn’t think it was my imagination. The hot movie star was flirting
with me. Maybe he liked a man with a bit of meat on his bones. I caught his sparkling gaze as
I sipped at my glass, my hand naturally migrating of its own accord to a tray of stuffed
mushrooms. I inhaled one.
My sister went mad. “Cut it out,” she screamed. “That was about six points!”
Outside the window, I caught a glimpse of Gravy hobbling along the grass and my
confidence level plummeted to below zero. How many points had I consumed so far today?
Jaxon chided my sister. “Leave him alone. Don’t pick on… Wait, I don’t think we’ve
met.” His glance fell on my lips. Oh. Fuck. What was my name again?
“My brother, Barney Calloway the chowhound, meet Jaxon Latham.”
We shook hands.
“What sort of work do you do, Barney?” he asked, reaching across me to grab a
mushroom cap.
“My brother is a voice-over actor. If he could just stop eating, he might actually be able
to get some on-camera work,” Cyan snapped.
“Are you making good money?” Jaxon asked.
“He’s one of the top guys in the country. He just got picked to be the voice of next
year’s Academy Award ceremonies.” A note of pride had crept into Cyan’s voice. Of course I
was successful. She picked her party guests carefully. She would never have included me
had I been an unemployed jelly doughnut filler.
“That’s pretty cool.” When my sister turned away, Jaxon picked up a mushroom cap
and pressed it to my lips. I took a bite. He smiled, his gaze searing into mine as he
demolished the other half. Lucky mushroom. I felt that smile all the way to my dangly bits,
which began doing the happy dance inside my pants. He stood leaning against me, his body
warmth doing weird things to my equilibrium.
“It sure beats being an odour judger.” I watched him chew. I’d never been jealous of a
mushroom before.
Jaxon laughed. “Is there such a thing?”
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I nodded. “I worked as one once. For a year. I sniffed armpits for a deodorant
company.”
He began to laugh. “That…stinks.”
I laughed too. “What’s the weirdest job you ever had?”
“Lifeguard at a nude beach in Sydney,” he said quickly.
“Really?” I found it hard to imagine being confident enough to strip naked publicly. It
was hard enough for me to do it alone in my room with all the lights off.
“Yep, really.” He picked up a sprig of raw cauliflower and drenched it in ranch
dressing. “I used to work at one on the south coast of New South Wales called Moon Bay but
the locals kept protesting, trying to get everyone to throw their clothes back on. It was a
mess.”
My sister bustled around the kitchen and before I knew it, everybody was inside,
loading up their plates. Jaxon monopolised me and I was deliriously happy. I loved hearing
his stories of surfing at Bondi Beach and how wonderfully free and easy things were when he
was growing up.
Guests mingled and I felt like I’d never been a better guest. Jaxon laughed at my jokes
and answered my questions. The dog seemed to limp a little less and even accepted a piece of
chicken as a bribe from me.
My sister then announced it would soon be cake time. I hurried off to the restroom,
Jaxon behind me so nobody would see my torn pants. He slipped his finger into the ripped
seam and stroked my butt cheek.
“Sure you don’t need some help in there?”
“No,” I said, laughing. He was such a character. I closed the door, peed, washed my
hands and studied my face in the mirror. Okay, I was fat. But I still had good looks. What I
lacked in thinness I made up for in personality. I always made sure to be charming and fun,
though frankly that got to be hard work sometimes. But thanks to a wonderful evening with
Jaxon, I was feeling on top of the world. As I washed my hands, Pooh’s exercise song, I Am
Short, Fat, and Proud of That from Winnie the Pooh & the Blustery Day swam into my brain.
Drying my hands, I opened the door. Where the hell was Jaxon? The house seemed
quiet. I stepped forwards. The kitchen door was ajar. I pushed it open just in time to hear my
sister say, “Hugo, I cannot serve this cake. Can you believe my brother? He ate all the
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damned icing! I called the store and they told me I got the cake I ordered. I feel like asking
him for my money back.”
“It’s not that bad,” Hugo said. “Nobody else knows how many roses are supposed to be
on there.”
“Yes, they do! I posted the photos on Facebook when I got them this morning!”
“What do you think, Jaxon?” Hugo asked.
“I feel sorry for the guy. I mean, jeez, he’s got no self control. He’s a heart attack waiting
to happen.”
“No. About the cake.”
A heart attack waiting to happen?
My spirits sank to my shoes. I couldn’t go into the kitchen. Not now. I felt on the brink
of tears. Why had Jaxon spent so much time talking to me?
“Serve the cake. Maybe he won’t eat it all,” Jaxon said. Hugo and Cyan laughed. I felt
my mouth opening and closing, my cheeks flaming as I crept out of the house. Their wild
laughter and some joke I couldn’t hear accompanied my escape.
As always when I am upset, I turned to the one thing that comforted me. I drove
straight to Baskin-Robbins and bought a quart of Love Potion #31 ice cream, eating it with
one of the store’s plastic spoons as I drove home.
It wasn’t until I hit the lights on the Coldwater Canyon exit that I noticed the business
card tucked under my windshield. The panhandler on the exit thought it was his lucky night
when I stepped out of my Lexus. Yeah, right…like I was gonna give him my car! I had some
trouble wresting the card free at first. Then somebody behind me honked when the light
changed.
Snatching the card off the windshield, I held up my hand in apology, blinded by the
mega-watt bright headlamps of the SUV behind me. I jumped inside my car then drove off,
still dazzled by those lights. I examined the card at the next light.
Full.
Just one word. I turned the card over. 888-555-9219.
What the hell? I pocketed the card as I rocketed down the street to my home off the
canyon on Avenue del Sol. I was renting a small lower unit of a duplex owned by a gay
daytime TV star who was a bit of a weirdo. I rarely saw James Hunt, but I’d developed an
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attachment to his big, black chow, Shao-Ying. For reduced rent, I walked and fed Shao-Ying
and looked after James’ finicky houseplants when he was out. Which was a lot.
All his lights were off, which meant nothing. He never left a light on for the dog, to my
consternation, but I already knew Shao-Ying was waiting for me. Inside my small half of the
duplex, the air felt stifling. I never left the windows open when I wasn’t home since the
house was in the canyon and I would return to the stench of skunk or find half-dead rats or
cats in my living room.
I’d learned that my small patio had a life of its own at night and I awoke many nights to
fearsome shrieks of small animals being devoured by a coyote. It always defied logic that
people left their animals outside in the canyons. I’d awakened once to find four white cat’s
paws and a collar in a sea of blood on the patio. I’d never get used to these unpleasant
surprises.
My space was small but perfect. Just off the entrance was my bedroom, a small kitchen
and bathroom, and past these, a pretty large living space. I had a dining table and loved to
cook and entertain. The rest of the room had been overtaken by my sofa, coffee table and
massive CD and DVD collection. My windows afforded a view of the dry mountain scrub
beyond my patio and, to my right, the neighbour’s back yard pool that hadn’t been cleaned
in the three years I’d lived here. To the left and beyond the pool all I could see was trees. I
like the privacy, so I’d learned to live with night time wildlife.
I turned on the A/C and heard its familiar rumble. I never slept with it on, but it cooled
my place down fast. I’d leave it on for a while then turn it off again. I finished off the ice
cream and checked my voicemail messages. Not much of interest. And then the phone rang.
It was my voice-over agent, Christina Jervis—otherwise known as Mouse. She’s a tiny wisp
of a thing in spite of having the appetite of a football player. She told me I had a foley
assignment first thing in the morning. I adore doing foley work since it’s highly creative and
very lucrative. It involves recreating sounds on film. Ninety per cent of the sounds people
hear in movies are recreated by foley artists, even the sounds of footsteps, for example. I’d
developed a speciality of animal voices early in life as a way of entertaining my family and
friends. Fat kids are funny, right?
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As an adult voice-over artist, thanks to my lengthy friendship with Jervis, I’m
constantly hired to re-do every sound in movies from birdsong to a dog barking or eating
food.
Mouse adores me since I make her tons of money and have never said no to a project. I
jotted down the details, thrilled to be working at Universal Studios’ main foley stage. I adore
Universal. I was already planning what I’d eat for lunch at their wonderful commissary. The
only drawback was the early start.
“Caedon wants you there right on the dot of eight,” she said. “He’ll leave a drive-on
pass for you.”
“Okay.” I groaned inwardly at the early start time and, after agreeing to a weekend
brunch at the beach with her, ended the call.
I don’t know what possessed me, but I pulled the Full card out of my pocket and dialled
the number. Curiosity killed the cat and probably a couple of chubby people, too. I almost
hung up after the line rang several times.
Finally a woman’s voice answered. “Good evening.” She paused.
I couldn’t decide whether to hang up or respond.
“Your call has been processed and added to the queue,” she said before I could think of
something to say. “For further options, or to review your order, press one.”
What? I hadn’t ordered anything. I tried to hang up, but the female voice got in the last
word.
“Goodbye.”
What the fuck ever. I tossed the card into the garbage bin under the sink and ran
upstairs to liberate Shao-Ying.
That beautiful dog was so patient and good. She was a big girl but she was mostly fur
and moved like a younger, thinner dog. Her father collected bizarre Asian art and antiques
and traded them or sold them for profit. Right now, James had an addiction to Peruvian
sculpture from the sixteenth-century Tiwanaku culture. His two decades on TV had given
him so much disposable income he thought nothing of shelling out a million dollars for a
useless snuff box or ceremonial stone tablet. His latest finds had taken him all over the world
on secret missions to acquire more. As usual, he’ll tire of this new fad, get rid of the lot then
start collecting the next thing that catches his eye.
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I’d fed the dog before I went to my sister’s and now Shao-Ying was primed and ready
for her last walk of the day. We stepped outside. She still chafed at being leashed at night but
she would not have her way and run free. Not on my watch. All I needed was to find her
surrounded by hungry coyote. She would be toast.
Toast… Man, food was always on my mind. No wonder I was fat. Dare I eat anything
else? I returned Shao-Ying to her top half of the house, added a little water to her dish and
gave her a dog biscuit. She covered my face with kisses and long licks with her big, black
tongue. She was so lucky she didn’t have to think about points and diets. I left a small night-
light on for her, as was my wont, and I hugged her.
Back in my apartment, I checked the TV channels. Back to back episodes of Friends…all
right!
I dropped some bread in the toaster—two slices of Weight Watchers bread—then
scraped a little Healthy Choice butter on them, washing them down with a cup of tea. I got
halfway through one of my favourite episodes of Friends but oddly found myself feeling
ridiculously full. I couldn’t concentrate.
After rapidly cleaning my teeth, I fell into bed, my eyes closing fast, just as Phoebe
pretended to seduce Chandler with the titillating words, “I’m very bendy.”
It was a bright, sunny morning. I sat in Diego’s immaculate kitchen, which was filled with good
smells, sipping his hand-blended mix of Portuguese coffee, watching his fine, naked ass as he prepared
breakfast. I couldn’t believe the trouble he was going to just for me. I stared at the open bag of tapioca
flour on the bench top. He’d grated three different kinds of cheese then added a long shred of creamy,
gooey burata and dropped it into the mix for
Pão de Queijo—
Brazilian cheese puffs.
I’d never tried them before I’d met my stunning Brazilian lover. They were melt in your mouth
madness. A magnificent chef, he loved to cook for me privately.
He turned to see if I was watching him, and of course I was. He made cooking and eating so
sensual. I longed to touch him, especially when he smiled at me, a fine dusting of flour sprinkled on his
nose. I wanted to kiss his nose and lick it clean. I wanted to hold him because it always made me feel so
good.
Moving behind him, I wrapped my arms around him, my hard cock jutting against his lower
back.
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He murmured low in his throat and moved into me, dropping the special cream puff tins he’d
imported from Paris—which got quite a workout when we were together.
I kissed his face and neck. He smelt like cheese, butter and—underneath it all—manly and hot.
His dark hair fell on my shoulder. I wound a strand around my fingertip.
“Eight minutes,” he said. “Think we can find something to fill the time?”
I rubbed my face in his hair, pleased to have him back. I loved him so much. He felt good and
solid and…mmm…the smell of cheese overwhelmed my senses.
I’d brought him a bunch of sunflowers from the Farmer’s Market and he kept beaming at them.
The Andrews Sisters were singing on the sound system—Hold Tight. Oh, I planned to.
He always loved cooking to those wonderful women. I swayed to the song as the scent of cheese
wafted from the hot oven. Diego turned around, our hard cocks yearning for one another. It surprised
me that he could be so hot for me. He could have anybody he wanted.
I tried not to think about the cheesy goodness inside his oven even as my mouth began to water.
My first inclination was to believe that it was all a dream—a cruel and hideous dream that I was
naked. I would never have been standing in the kitchen naked with him. I’d always been too self
conscious to be so free and easy.
I’d spent my entire relationship with him hiding behind towels and potted plants.
“Let me see you,” he’d say. And I would always hide.
I wasn’t hiding now. I wanted him so much. I willed for the dream to be real as he reached for my
cock…
The clock radio went off at six a.m. and I awoke, ironically, to the Andrews Sisters.
They were on my iPod. I seemed to have finally mastered my new digital sound system. My
tongue felt dry and furry. Man, I could almost taste those cheese puffs.
Diego!
I’d forgotten to turn off the A/C. It always made me feel this way—groggy, dry
mouthed…out of sorts. I got out of bed, hating the new music station I was now listening to.
I’d accidentally hit the radio button getting out of bed. I’m not racist but it’s a fact that more
and more English-language radio stations in Los Angeles are being taken over by Spanish-
language stations. My favourite jazz and blues station had been taken over by merengue.
Lord, I still missed their eclectic mix of music and weekend big band and Great American
Songbook repertoire. I wanted Blossom Dearie, not a frenetic beat that made me feel anxious
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that I wasn’t moving quickly enough first thing in the morning…in a language I didn’t
understand.
I always slept in the nude. So I walked to the bathroom, scratching my belly then
stretched. I peed and contemplated the bathroom scale. How ironic that the brand was
Thinner. Hell, no, I did not want to weigh myself. I would not be…thinner.
Not after I’d consumed eight hundred points worth of food the day before.
For a bleak moment, I contemplated a whole week ahead with no cheat points left
available to me. Breakfast. Yes, I had to eat. Tea and toast sounded good. I made my kitchen
preparations before jumping into the shower as the water boiled and the toaster made its
magic. I ran some coconut body shampoo over a sponge and began to soap myself under a
nice, cool spray of water on the rain setting.
Holy shit.
I looked down, water cascading over my head. My belly was…flat. Not only that…
It couldn’t be.
Holy cripes. How many minus calories had been in those icing roses?
I began to run my hands over my body. Man titties—gone. Pouchy belly—gone. Arms
and legs—slim. Toned, even. I finished soaping myself and rinsed off before running out of
the shower stall to check myself in the mirror. I was so excited I forgot to turn off the taps.
It couldn’t be. I kept telling myself this over and over again, but it was true. I was thin. I
was gorgeous. I was a hunk.
I kept looking at myself in the mirror. I had never had a close relationship with the gym
so I wasn’t exactly ripped, but I had some muscle tone. The constant ache in my shoulders
and lower back was gone. And an added benefit of being thinner was that my cock looked
huge.
For a moment I stared at myself. I touched my body, not recognising it—not knowing
how to deal with it. I’d been a fat boy all my life. I’d been picked on since the age of seven
when I first started eating relentlessly, never feeling full.
Full.
That damned business card. I raced into the kitchen and looked in the garbage bin but it
was gone. Weird. I looked around the can but it wasn’t there. Never mind. I’d find it later. I
turned on the electric kettle one more time and buttered my now-cold toast. For the first
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time, I was really aware of everything I ate. I kept staring down at my body. Unbelievable. I
was thin. How many calories in toast?
I wanted to run down the street screaming to the world that I was now skinny but I
didn’t think the neighbours would dig all the shouting…or my nudity.
That presented me with another problem. As soon as the kettle turned itself off, I
poured water into a cup, jiggling my green tea orange jasmine teabag into the steamy liquid.
How many points in a teabag? I was now petrified that not only was I hallucinating, but that
I would put all the weight back on instantly.
Wait. I hadn’t made any calls since I’d called the number on the business card. I picked
up the handset, pressing redial. The same woman answered after several rings. “Your order
has now been processed.”
“I need to talk to somebody!”
“Goodbye,” she said and hung up.
I recorded the phone number in my phone’s memory system and thought for a
moment. What the hell was I going to wear?
Carrying my tea into the bedroom, I rifled through my closet. I went into a strange,
hysterical but euphoric state I’d never experienced before when nothing fit me. Everything
was loose. Really loose. Even my ‘skinny’ clothes didn’t fit. Unbelievable. The last time I’d fit
into those jeans was during college. Just for kicks, I put on a pair of my running shoes. Too
big. How the hell had my feet shrunk?
I had to weigh myself.
Indeed, I was thinner. One hundred and three pounds thinner. I was now a one
hundred and forty-seven pound man.
That’s when the idea came to me. James Hunt would have clothes. I could borrow a pair
of jeans and a T-shirt until the shops were open. He would be out of town for two more days
so he’d have no idea.
I put on some underpants because I drew the line at wearing somebody else’s, downed
my tea then ran outside the house. The coast was clear. No traffic. No people. I hurried
upstairs. The dog growled and barked at me until I spoke. I guess that’s when it really sank
in…that I was so skinny I looked like a different person. I slipped into James’ bedroom,
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shocked at the mad pile of clothes on every available surface. I put on a clean pair of his Joe’s
jeans and an Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirt.
God…I looked fucking gorgeous.
“Whaddya think, Shao-Ying?” I asked the dog.
“Woof,” she said.
I couldn’t have agreed more.
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Chapter Two
My foley job was located at the studio lot in Universal City on Lankershim Boulevard,
right off the 101 freeway. I kept giggling with excitement. I was skinny. I was free.
I chortled over how good it felt not to have my stomach spilling over my trousers and
pressing up against the steering wheel. I wasn’t sure, but I even thought I got some admiring
looks. Mind you, I was wearing James Hunt’s clothes and a pair of his sunglasses. I’d also
borrowed a little hair gel, just to look a little…foxy for a change.
I called my sister as I drove, taking surface streets all the way.
“Guess what? I’m skinny!” I shrieked when Cyan took my call. I already knew she was
on her way to the gym. She did some crazy-assed workout class three times a day. “I don’t
know how it happened but I’m thin and I’m gorgeous!”
“No, you’re not. You split your pants last night.”
“I weigh one hundred and forty-seven pounds, babe.”
“Your scale is broken and thanks for running out of here last night without so much as
a goodbye.”
“I’m skinny!” I repeated. I thumped the wheel for emphasis. The light on the corner of
Ventura and Lankershim was taking forever so I had no qualms about stepping out of my car
and snapping a photo of myself with my cell phone.
“When I get out of the car again, I’ll send it to you,” I said. I jumped back into the car
and turned on to Lankershim. The body buzz stayed with me even as I waited in line for a
drive-on pass and had to park miles away from the sound stage.
As I walked, I emailed the picture I’d just taken to my sister. Within seconds my cell
phone rang.
“There is no way that’s you. It doesn’t even look like you. How the hell—?” She
hyperventilated, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. “How the hell did this happen?”
“Isn’t it great?”
“Great?” She began to rant. “You eat like a pig. You are the sloppiest person I’ve ever
met and—”
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Wow, she didn’t sound very happy for me.
“I had one glass of wine and a single icing rose and I put on two pounds and I exercise
all day long!”
This was a discussion Cyan and I had often. I was usually able to placate her but this
time she seemed to have gone bonkers. Her manic monologue was putting a bit of a crimp in
my good mood, besides which I’d arrived at the stage. And for the first time in years, I
wasn’t out of breath.
“Gotta go,” I said in the middle of her tirade and ended the call.
Inside the studio, it was quiet. I had to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. So much for
everybody being able to see my new slim-line self. I stepped forwards on tiptoes, even
though I still couldn’t see very well, and found Caedon on his hands and knees on the floor
whacking a huge bunch of celery against a wet piece of chamois cloth. It made a solid, yet
squelching sound that he timed with the sound of a man’s footprints hitting the ground as he
ran through wet and darkened streets on the screen beside him.
I waited until he had completed the cycle and he sat back on his heels, taking a deep
breath. Caedon Fargo is as handsome a guy as you’d ever want to meet. In his late thirties,
he’s got dark, gleaming hair, crinkly blue eyes and a hint of hairiness to his face and arms
that makes me want to take all my clothes off and climb right underneath him. He’s an
amazing talent and has won more Oscars for his foley artistry than I’ve eaten cupcakes,
which is saying something. He uses such interesting things for sound, but being the artist
that he is no audience could ever tell his sounds have been recorded long after the scenes
were shot.
He turned and smiled at me. His eyes narrowed. “Can I help you?”
I snickered. I just couldn’t help it. “It’s me. Barney.”
“Barney? What did you do to yourself? Did you change your hair?”
My hair? “Dude. I’ve lost about a hundred pounds.”
“Really?” He looked stunned. He stared at me. “Something wrong with your eyes?”
“No.”
“Why are you wearing your sunglasses then?”
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Oh, no wonder I couldn’t see. I removed them, stuffing them into my back pocket. He
glanced at the floor beside him. He had a copy of the screenplay beside him. “Your voice is
still the same, right?”
I would have been offended except, in the voice industry, most of us know the smallest
thing can drastically affect the timbre of a voice. Singer Sarah McLachlan, one of the most
gifted singers in the world, took a long break from her career after giving birth to her first
child. She said her voice had changed and it freaked her out.
As for me, I had no idea if my voice had changed but I stared at the box of doughnuts
on the table by the wall and wasn’t even tempted to suck out the jam from them.
“You okay?” Caedon asked me.
“Perfectly.”
“You don’t want a doughnut?”
I shook my head. I helped myself to coffee as I scanned the screenplay pages he handed
me. My voice always did better after a warming liquid in my throat.
“Caedon, how could you not notice I lost so much weight?”
He shrugged. “I never thought of you as overweight.” He wasn’t the first person to tell
me this lie. People who liked me—really liked me—often claimed not to notice my increasing
size. Next he’d be saying I carried my weight well.
“You really carried your weight well.”
Oh, brother.
I sipped my coffee. It tasted damned good. When I glanced up, Caedon was staring at
me.
“What?” I asked.
“You don’t believe me.”
I shrugged. No, I didn’t believe him.
He frowned. “Truly, I never noticed your weight. You always struck me as one of the
most authentic people I know. And that’s a rarity in this town.”
“Thanks.”
He kept standing there. “You really hurt my feelings,” he blurted.
“What?” I almost scalded my tongue swallowing a huge gulp of coffee.
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“I’ve invited you to three of my parties and you always say you’re coming, but you
didn’t even show up to my birthday party.”
He really did look wounded. I took a deep breath.
“Your flakiness was such a surprise, because…well…” He ran a hand through his hair.
He wasn’t the first person to tell me this. In fact I’ve lost several friends to my alleged
flakiness. I say alleged because I’m not flaky. Not at all. What I am is a fat guy who is so self-
conscious I plan on going to things…then can’t face being ridiculed or stared at. Until you
are fat and see the expressions on people’s faces when you consume so much as an olive at a
party, you have no idea how painful it is.
“I’m sorry.” I was. I liked Caedon. In fact I’d always had a crush on him. “It’s my
weight. It’s been my burden my whole life.”
It still hadn’t computed that I was now skinny. I’d always hidden behind the flaky
exterior to shadow all my pain. My mother had been fat and died young. My father and his
second wife are also big people. Their twin twelve-year-old kids are large and in charge. I
took a deep breath.
“Caedon, it wasn’t you. It was me. It’s stopped me doing everything my whole life.” I
kept repeating myself. My whole life. But it was true.
“But I really wanted you there.” Man, he wouldn’t let go of this.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. I was lucky he still gave me work. I had to do better. Now I
was a skinny, mini form of myself, I would do all the things my weight had stopped me from
doing.
“Then promise me you’ll have dinner with me one night. I don’t care if we eat carrots.”
Shit. Was he hitting on me? He’d never invited me to dinner before. It had always been
a party. Safety in numbers, I suppose. It hit me wrong…now that I was skinny, I was okay.
But I nodded and said yes. The smile came back to his face. The sun shone again.
“I’ll call you,” he said. I nodded and we got to work. I had three voices to fill in. A
parrot squawking in a cage, a baby crying and a dog lapping water. Interestingly, I had
trouble with the last one.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “This is your speciality.”
“I know.”
“Water’s not fattening.” He sounded a little aggrieved.
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“It’s not that.” I’d just remembered a long-dormant memory. How had I forgotten it?
I’d been seven years old one summer when my cousins from Alabama had come to visit.
Early one morning, they’d pushed me to the floor and made me drink from the dog’s bowl.
That was how I’d developed my skill. The sudden memory made me so angry and hurt for
the small boy I’d been, left to the mercy of cruel teens.
I somehow got through the session. Caedon’s good mood returned.
Out in the parking lot, Mouse called me. “How’d it go?”
“Great,” I said.
“Caedon just called me and complained.”
“What? He did?”
“He said you had trouble lapping water.”
My cheeks flamed as I strode to my car. “I did it. I finished it.”
She paused. “Is there something going on I should know about?”
“I’ve lost a hundred pounds.”
“Has this affected your voice?”
What was with this question today?
“No, it hasn’t affected my voice.” Mouse was a damned good friend. The best. But in
her current capacity as agent, it was not the time to mention my gruesome flashback.
“Wait a second…did you say you’ve lost a hundred pounds?”
“Yep.”
“Are you serious?”
“As serious as a heart attack.”
“Wow, that new Weight Watchers points system is amazing!”
I laughed. I was willing to let the company take responsibility for my life change. It was
easier to explain than a business card saying Full. Now in the light of day I was having
problems believing the card had anything to do with it.
“Come up for dinner tonight,” she said. “The kids would love to see you.”
I adored her four children. Her oldest son, Anthony—who was eight—was my godson.
He’s my favourite. Theirs was the only family I’d known that had never made continual
references to my weight. We agreed on a time and I returned to my car.
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I pondered what to do with my day once I’d returned home and was walking Shao-
Ying. I realised my whole day used to be spent thinking about and consuming food.
Unbelievable.
As I walked her, I found I had so much energy I even took her up to her favourite trail.
The hill that had been the bane of my existence no longer troubled me. My calves burned in a
pleasant way. Memories of my mother struggling through Jane Fonda exercise videos—“Feel
the burn!”—hurt my heart. We’d been so close and losing her had been the beginning of my
own private wilderness. My dad had found solace in his secretary—how original—and a
new family. I’d found solace in carbohydrates. As I once told an ex-lover, I ‘turned my pain
inwards’.
We were extremely close and I liked his wife. They had a wonderful life up the coast in
Summerland. I really wanted to call him, but I had to shop for clothes. I couldn’t keep
borrowing from James’ wardrobe.
I called my sister—a shopaholic who can be counted on to do damage to her credit
cards at a moment’s notice. She seemed disgruntled.
“How was the class?” I asked her.
“Fine.”
“You sound pissed.”
“Keith ignored me.”
I grimaced. Keith was her trainer and the man with whom she was cheating on Hugo. I
had spent more hours than I cared to remember listening to her drama over Keith. She said
she would pick me up and for the first time in my life I didn’t hesitate. I asked if she would
go shopping with me.
“Want me to meet you at Big and Tall?” she asked, sounding less than enthusiastic.
“I am no longer big and not really tall,” I said. She gave an odd sounding snort.
Normally I would meet her places since she whined about my weight all the time. Besides, I
usually hate shopping and want to be free to roam. This time, I felt proud and confident. This
new feeling stayed with me until she arrived in her shiny black Escalade.
“This is ridiculous,” she said getting out of the car, the engine still running. She
stamped an expensively shod foot on the ground, hands on hips. “How the hell did you do
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it? I emailed your photo to everyone, but they all said it was impossible. Ridiculous!” she
shouted.
I had a notion that my sister wasn’t handling my recent weight loss too well.
She stomped over to me and poked and prodded my chest and belly, walking around
me, as if inspecting a prized calf about to be slaughtered for her consumption. Her hard,
sudden pinches and flashing eyes frightened me. She was wearing mock-croc, very pointy-
toed Jimmy Choos that looked lethal. I covered my private parts because I feared what she
might do next. I was certain a kick to the cock couldn’t be far behind her mounting hysteria.
“It’s not fair!” she screamed. “I work so hard!” She grabbed the front of my borrowed T-
shirt and shook me. She’d grabbed a few chest hairs too, which hurt.
“Ow!”
“Fuck you,” she screamed. As I predicted she hauled off and kicked me, but I jumped
out of the way and she got my hip bone. Another ouchie.
“How did you do it?” Tears streamed down her face. “How did you do it? I saw you
last night. You looked like shit. Look at you!”
“Jeez, thanks a lot,” I muttered. Man, she was really gone. My sister never swore. Jackie
O—her guide and guru—would never do that.
“Come on, guy. You know you did.”
She jumped back into her car. I took a jump backwards, afraid she’d reverse and run me
over. “Get in!” she shrieked.
“No.”
“Get in!”
“No. You’re acting like a crazy woman.”
She threw her head onto the steering wheel and sobbed. A car trying to pass her waited
for a moment before the driver honked her. Uh-oh. She was mad as hell now. She slammed
her car door shut then, just as the guy eased around her, she opened the door, a fiendish
“Oops!” on her lips.
I stood by helplessly as they exchanged rude finger gestures. She seemed calmer, but I
was still afraid to drive with her. The woman took kick-boxing lessons, for cripe’s sake. I
could just see her karate chopping me in the windpipe as we rounded a bend, then opening
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the passenger door and pushing me into the mountain scrub below. No. I didn’t trust her at
all.
“Get in, Barney,” she said. The fight seemed to have left her. We headed into Sherman
Oaks—the shopping mecca of the San Fernando Valley’s suburban housewives. For the
entire seventeen-minute drive, she ranted about Keith. Their affair was recent, after two
years of open flirtation. In a desperate bid to keep his marriage intact, Hugo had encouraged
the affair, though I knew that the two—so far—sexual encounters had devastated him. Both
times he had met me for drinks as she and Keith did the horizontal samba at the Sportsmen’s
Lodge on Ventura Boulevard.
I’d felt awful for him. My sister’s desire, I knew, was not for sex, but attention. It had
been her worst problem. I blamed the death of my mother for my sister’s lack of self-esteem,
and whilst I chose to stuff my feelings down with food, she chose to create constant drama. I
think Hugo gave her enough attention for a man who worked damned hard, but for Cyan, it
wasn’t enough. She was so obsessed with her weight and appearance that her exercise class
had become a second family for her. With her multiple appearances in Keith’s class schedule
she’d become an attractive model student.
Starting an affair with her was probably not his wisest move, since my sister can’t slice a
tomato without some tragedy befalling her.
“This is the first time I’ve seen him since we got together Saturday night,” she said. “I
took yesterday off for my birthday, but he didn’t even call. Today in class he totally ignored
me. When I said something—”
I groaned. “You didn’t.”
“Of course I did!”
“But I thought you guys had agreed on discretion. He’s married, too, right?”
“All my friends know about him and me. He didn’t call me for my birthday.”
Her tone suggested this was the equivalent of homicide. I’d never understood her
attachment to birthdays. It had become an irrational obsession that defied logic.
“Sweetie…please, listen to me. I—”
“He said I was overreacting,” my sister huffed. She then forced me to sit through his
last voicemail message, insisting I psychically detect any nuance in his tone.
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“Hey sweetie,” he said. Boy, did he sound gay, not that I said so. “Hey…” A pause. I
could hear the beat of dance music in the background. “I got your message…all your
messages, but I was in the middle of a class and I couldn’t take your call. Oh…I think that’s
you calling again now.” The call ended. I cut a glance at her.
What I detected was annoyance in his tone, but I didn’t say so.
“Do you think he’s in love with me?” she asked, her eyes like saucers as she careened
around the Fashion Square Mall parking lot, narrowly missing an old dear tottering on a
walker. She’d put tennis balls at the base of the walking frame’s metal feet but she only just
missed being skittled by my sister, who remained oblivious.
“The sex was fantastic,” Cyan went on. “He was awesome.”
Oh, God. I really don’t want to hear this. She pulled into one of the spaces reserved for
electric vehicles. She didn’t care that it was illegal. My sister was lucky that way. She led me
into the mall’s double glass doors, alternately praising my appearance and bitching and
bitching about my dramatic weight loss.
She steered me straight into Macy’s. My sister’s whole personality changed. Shopping
put Cyan into the kind of meditative Zen state any self-respecting, navel-contemplating yogi
would envy. She had so much fun dressing me up like her own personal Ken doll, tut-tutting
over my giant, as she called them, grandpa underpants.
“Take them off,” she commanded. I was reluctant to strip in front of her. The last time I
was nude in front of her, baby blankies and family pictures for the photo album were
involved.
“You are hung,” she chortled, embarrassing the hell out of me. She went out to the
racks, picking out body-hugging black boxer briefs, socks, T-shirts and shirts before
returning to throw clothes on and off me. She even brought a couple of pairs of swim trunks.
I looked fabulous in everything, including the latest, hottest Diesel jeans I’d never ever
bothered looking at before.
“Amazing,” she said, as I admired myself in the mirror. I looked okay. Fuck. Better than
okay. The Thanaz slim-fit, grey jeans looked wonderful. She reached for a long-sleeved
Alternative linen jersey henley. I initially baulked because the pewter-coloured top had
horizontal stripes. When I looked at myself, however, tears sprang to my eyes. I was hot. So
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hot, I wanted to fuck myself. The way I looked could have given any movie star a run for his
money.
“It’s insane.” My sister kept circling me—her face red, eyes glazed and lips open in a
trance-like state only shopping could induce in her.
She let me wear this new outfit home with some black Diesel sneakers she picked out as
a gift for me.
My sister steered me to the cashier, where she began rifling through her purse for
various discount coupons and gift cards she’d collected. She might be a shopaholic but her
real, secret passion was for deep discounts. She got me a huge bargain on all my new
purchases. I felt the least I could do was spring for a meal.
“Lunch on me?” I suggested.
She gave me a dramatic eye roll. “All that weight you’ve lost and you’re still obsessed
with food?”
“Hey, that’s not fair. I got up early and went to work. I didn’t even have a doughnut
when I was doing voice-overs.”
She gave me a fish-eyed look. “I should think not.” She seemed to realise she was being
mean. “All right. Salad can’t hurt.” She hurried me out of Macy’s to the far end of the mall to
Bloomingdale’s.
Normally, I would have protested such a vigorous form of exercise, but apart from
feeling a little weighed down with shopping bags, I didn’t even break a sweat. We took the
escalator to the third floor of the department store. Just as I was beginning to think she’d lost
her last marble, I saw a sign saying 59th and Lex Café. We barged past a couple of indignant
women who were waiting in line, looking huffy. They seemed mollified when I whispered an
apology to them. I was always apologising for Cyan.
I insisted they go first, but they wanted a certain table that they said was occupied.
Weird. My sister assumed a haughty air as she led the way to a table. What a shock. There
was Jaxon Latham, having lunch with another man I recognised. I’d never met my sister’s
lover, Keith, but I’d seen his photo on her camera phone. The less than ecstatic expression on
his face told me everything.
“What a wonderful surprise,” Cyan said, her voice shrill and her tone, even to my
supportive ears, unconvincing.
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“Keith,” she continued in the same arch, artificial manner, “you’ve never met my
brother, Barney Calloway.”
Her part-time whore gave me the standard Hollywood Eye Sweep. His gaze took in
every inch of me in a matter of seconds.
“I thought you said he was fat.”
“He was,” Jaxon sputtered. “Look at you…it’s—”
“Nice to see you, too,” I said. I nudged my sister, my fingers getting a little numb from
the handles of the plastic carry bags. “Our table’s ready, Sis.”
I scooted her away from the two men, her head turning almost completely around to
get another look at Keith. I was pretty certain the guy was on the down low. He was gay.
And, by the looks of things, he had a thing going with Jaxon. How did I break the news to
Cyan that she was, in all likelihood, Keith’s beard?
“That went well, don’t you think?” Her eyes shone with need. I threw her a bone.
“Yes.” It actually had. She hadn’t made too much drama out of obviously knowing the
guy was here and making a bee-line for him.
“I have a GPS tracking system on his cell phone,” she told me, as if reading my
thoughts. Now I’d heard everything.
She beamed at me, picking up a menu. “You look so fabulous, Barn. What are you
going to have?”
Now here I was in a quandary. I had no idea if I would put on weight or if I would stay
in this same svelte state, and I began to fret. I liked being skinny. I hadn’t felt self-conscious
once since we’d walked into the mall…well, except for being completely naked in front of my
sister. I felt like I finally belonged, as if I’d awoken from a long and ghastly nightmare. In my
dreams, I was always skinny, healthy and happy. Now my chance was here for real. I started
to sweat just thinking it might be all some vicious dream. What the hell could I eat? Most
restaurants in LA now listed their calorie count next to each dish on the menu, but not 59th
and Lex. It was too New York for that.
I focused on breathing and taking my time perusing the menu. Everything looked good,
but so fattening.
“My God,” Cyan said, her voice a whisper. “You’re taking so long. Normally you just
order a burger and fries.”
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The waitress approached our table. My sister ordered the Aegean salad, which had
caught my eye, too, but when it was my turn, I ordered iced tea, a cup of soup—a trick I’d
learnt from Weight Watchers and was surprised I’d recalled—and a half order of Caesar
salad. I asked for dressing on the side, pleased that I’d remembered all my instructor’s little
tips. She’d told us newbies that we should always order soup in restaurants since it fills you
up. Salad dressing on the side allows you to control what often turns out to be the hidden
death trap in a seemingly healthy meal.
My sister stared at me as though she’d seen a ghost. “All right. Who the hell are you
and what did you do with my brother?”
“I am your brother.” I smiled, pushing aside the warm bread rolls on the plate sitting
between us. I’d just caught a glimpse of the two women who’d been lurking at the entrance.
They’d pounced on Jaxon, who seemed to be signing autographs for them. Poor guy.
“No, you’re not. You’ve never eaten a salad in your life.”
“That’s…” It was true. My salads always consist of whatever juicy burger or piece of
fried chicken decorates a piece of lettuce. I toyed with my flatware, my sister looking at me in
a strange way.
“How do Keith and Jaxon know each other?” I asked, hoping I sounded nonchalant.
“Oh, Jaxon and I are in his class. They’ve kinda become friends, and now Jaxon and I
are friends. Barn. Tell me. How did you do it? I mean, really? How did you get so thin?”
I lifted my shoulders. How did I explain the business card saying Full?
A few seconds later, I was saved from having to either make up a lie or sound like a
complete moron by telling her about the card. Just as my soup arrived, Keith and Jaxon
approached our table.
“Mind if we join you for dessert?” Jaxon asked.
“I’m not having any—”
“Of course!” my sister shrieked. “I mean…of course not. We’d love to have you join us,
wouldn’t we, Barn?” The guys dragged the nearest table for two over to ours. We had to
shove all my bags between our legs, but it was cool when Jaxon sneaked a look inside the
bags near him, commenting on my excellent taste. I ate my soup and for the first time in my
adult life I didn’t have to worry about straining buttons on my clothing or wondering how
much of a pig I looked like as I ate.
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Jaxon sat beside me, putting Keith beside my sister. She became an instant mess. They
started flirting and fumbling, which was kind of embarrassing for me and Jaxon.
My sister giggled and carried on. When her food arrived, Keith whispered in her ear,
“Get it to go,” loud enough for me to hear. She followed his instructions.
“Oh,” she said as Keith pawed her, taking both of us by surprise. “I drove my brother
here. I can’t abandon him.”
“I’ll give him a ride home,” Jaxon said. He reached across the table for the check. I
wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but I didn’t buy Keith’s sudden seduction. Jaxon
slipped his hand onto my knee under the table and I felt my cock harden. I had no idea what
he was up to, but I did know I had a new body I wanted to test drive. Images of Caedon the
foley guy flashed in my mind but I pushed them aside. He hadn’t called me—in fact he’d
complained about me to my agent.
It was time for adventure. Me…the skinny guy.
Jaxon grinned at me. “Your place or mine?” he said, right in my ear.
Damn. That was fast. I pondered what I’d say when I caught a glimpse of someone else
across the restaurant and my heart did a spectacular flip-flop in my chest. Just about
everyone has ‘the one that got away’. Diego Sanchez was mine. I stared at him. His black,
shoulder-length hair was the only thing about him that spoke of his true, bohemian style. He
wore a black suit with a charcoal shirt. Precision. Style. Cool. Fuck. He was a blazing hothead
in bed who’d spoilt me for any other man. I was mute with terror and wild desire. I still
loved him. Damn!
Brazilian by birth, he’d lived a tough life which had started on the streets of São Paulo
as a beggar-child with a bunch of other tough but winsome street kids—his words, not
mine—helping to support his mother. She eventually scraped enough money together to get
them on a ship to America.
He’d told me his story in bits and pieces, his real anguish being that she died a year
after they arrived in Florida, when he was just fourteen. He pretended he was older, getting
work in restaurants and moving his way up the literal food chain. By the time I met him, he
was thirty years old and a major culinary celebrity who had quietly overcome illiteracy with
my encouragement.
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A talented and celebrated chef, food had brought us together. I’d become a fan of his
restaurant and he became a fan of…us. After an intense, year-long courtship, food had come
between us. The man had broken my heart. I hadn’t seen him in eight months and all the old,
painful feelings had returned, making me feel broken and abandoned. He walked in and
looked right through me, but of course my sister saw him and waved.
“Woo hoo!” she called out. “Diego!”
He approached our table and smiled at her. Oh man, he looked good.
“Are you still taking night school?” I asked.
“Yes. A year away from finishing my degree. Not having a private life has…given me
the opportunity to take a few more classes.”
“That’s great.” That encouraged me. No private life. Maybe there really was no man in
his life.
“You look great,” he said. My belly and balls did the wave in my jeans at the low, sexy
rumble of his Brazilian-accented English. He spoke Portuguese, Spanish, French,
German…did I mention he was crazy good in the sack?
The last time I’d seen him had been in his kitchen as he was giving me the big heave-ho
because he said I was fat and that my food issues were too much for him.
Not any more. I gave him a huge smile. He just stared at me.
He looked me up and down—worse than the LA instant scan. Recognition lit up his
eyes, but he seemed more troubled than anything else. He didn’t seem pleased to see me
looking hotter and thinner.
“Banito,” he said. Dang. Did he have to use his pet name for me? “Is it really you?” He
touched my arm as if to check I was real.
“Yeah!”
“You look good, but you’ve still got a long way to go.”
That hurt worse than a punch.
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Chapter Three
“You’re awfully quiet.”
“Hmm?” I came out of my reverie, feeling bad that beyond giving Jaxon directions to
my house, I’d been in a desperate funk…the kind I usually fell in when I felt especially fat.
Who knew that being skinny could mean I still wasn’t skinny enough? I blinked back tears.
God, I couldn’t cry in front of Jaxon. As much as I fought the emotion, bad thoughts kept
flooding my mind. When I was a twenty-one-year-old college student at UC Santa Barbara,
I’d lost weight. A lot of weight. I was young and in love and hot for one of my four
roommates. I’d never been so slim. I’d felt so good about myself, until the object of my
desires told me we could never be together because he liked really thin guys.
Now that I thought of it, I hadn’t stopped fighting with food ever since. Being fat drew
an invisible but painful line in the sand. You didn’t belong. You didn’t qualify as a potential
love partner. So how come I kept seeing fat people happily a deux? It pained me in terrible
ways, and yet, I’d become used to eating with an emotional limp. I’d happily accepted staying
on my side of the line because the other side was loaded with invisible sharks.
“I honestly don’t know what’s worse—people treating you like shit because you’re fat
or people judging just how skinny you are. It’s a whole new set of rules now. I’m not ready. I
think…I think…” Holy shit. I’d said these words aloud.
“Look, I don’t know how you lost all that weight all of a sudden but you are thin, mate.
Don’t listen to some arsehole.”
I had to smile. I loved the Australian word for asshole.
“He is an arsehole,” I agreed.
“I could tell. He was jealous. How did you lose the weight?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
He paused at the lights on the corner of Ventura. They took forever.
“I hope whatever it was it was safe. Were drugs involved?”
“Nope. Nothing like that.”
“You really weren’t wearing a fat suit last night?”
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“Maybe I was.” I directed him to my house. I was sick of talking about how I got
skinny…and I hadn’t even told anyone the truth yet. He parked outside and helped me
schlep everything into the house. He followed me upstairs to James’ unit, where I returned
his T-shirt and jeans to his dirty clothes hamper. He had so much stuff in there already I
didn’t think he’d notice them. It struck me as funny that a man who was so detail-oriented
about collectibles could be so cavalier about his expensive clothes.
Shao-Ying took a fancy to Jaxon, who gave a cursory glance at James’ antiques as I fed
the dog her lunch. Then he accompanied us for a walk.
“You’re very kind, looking after her.” Jaxon stopped beside me at the top of our hill. I
pointed to one of several forks across the path. I took my favourite, one that Shao and I
walked regularly. I enjoyed having Jaxon’s company because I usually did this alone. I kept
Shao-Ying on her leash on this particular trail—not only in case coyotes jumped out at us, but
because of rattlesnakes. Off leash, she wouldn’t keep to the trail and would follow all the
strong scents around her, often darting between bushes, under which the explosion of
rattlesnakes in our area liked to lurk.
“I love her,” I said. And it was true. Shao didn’t care how fat or skinny I was. She
adored and trusted me. Her love was pure. The whole notion that my life had really changed
just hit me.
“You look good. Do you feel good?” Jaxon asked. It was an unusual question.
“Not sure yet. I know I’m not out of breath.”
He nodded. “I noticed that.” He stepped forwards and surprised me by kissing me.
“Are you involved with Keith?” I asked, breaking off the kiss. Nice going, idiot. A
handsome movie star was just kissing you and you mention another guy’s name.
“What makes you think so?” He looked evasive.
“I’m gay. I got the gaydar thing down pat. Comes of being an observer.” I tried not to
feel bitter about my lifelong place on the other side of the invisible line. “And I love my
sister. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“You’re astute,” he said, a wry twist to his small smile. “Either that or we weren’t
discreet enough.” He frowned. “Probably most people wouldn’t pick up on it.”
“Well, I did.”
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“We had a little…thing.” He picked at the bark of a eucalyptus tree trunk as Shao took
ten years to take a dump. I waited, plastic bag in hand.
“He’s a classic bi-sexual,” Jaxon said.
“You like him, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Jesus.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I think he ran to your sister
because he’s scared of his feelings and because…well, she’s married. He thought it would be
easy. Why does Hugo let her fuck him?”
“You’d have to ask Hugo that.” I bagged up Shao’s little gift to humanity. We pushed
our way past wild sage and fennel, the heady scent making me feel wonderful. Now I could
pinpoint one thing that hadn’t changed since I’d got skinny. I dropped the bag in one of the
bins posted on the trail by the thoughtful city council and started to turn around.
“Let’s keep walking. Do you mind?”
I shook my head. Shao and I had all the time in the world.
“You and Keith are the only people I know who come up here.” He sounded so
mournful. “Believe it or not, you are the most interesting person I’ve met since I moved here.
Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“When did you find the card?”
“Excuse me?”
“The Full card. I know you found it.”
I almost fell over. Shao had begun to run fast and I clung to her leash. A jackrabbit ran
across the dry trail and Shao went nuts. I held on to her because I knew she could—and
would—hurt the little guy with a mere snap of her great teeth.
“How do you know about the card?”
“I got one too. A long time ago.” He gave me a sad smile.
“You did?”
He nodded. “I still struggle with my weight. One day you’ll have to pay it forward.
You’ll have to give them the name of someone else who needs help. I’ll give you a small
piece of advice, though, Barney. Being skinny is no guarantee of success or happiness. Fat,
skinny, short, tall, black, white, purple or blue…we have to make our own happiness.”
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I tried to absorb all of this as we passed a pepper tree. We crunched fallen pods that
released the pungent odour, making poor Shao sneeze.
“Wait,” I said. “You’re saying somebody paid it forward and told…who, exactly, that I
needed help?”
“I have no idea. It wasn’t me. I’d say it was somebody close. It’s an incredible gift and,
you’ve probably guessed, a responsibility.”
That intrigued me.
“Can I put on weight?”
“Of course you can. You are just at your ideal weight. You’ve been given a second
chance. You could put it all back on, or you can modify your eating habits. The choice is
yours.”
I nodded, drinking it all in. It seemed just like winning the lottery. Some people took
advantage of the windfall and spent their money wisely—others squandered it, blowing
through the cash in no time. “So you were fat?”
“Huge. Bigger than you.”
We kept walking.
“When?”
“A few years ago. As soon as I got thin, I got work. The irony isn’t lost on me. People
think I’m joking when I say I used to work as a circus clown.”
“Did you really?”
“Sure. My old clown pants have been recycled. A family of elephants use them as
curtains. Now I’m playing a circus clown in my next movie.”
I laughed. “You’re a character.” I was curious about who had nominated him for the
card, but he shook his head.
“Let’s not go there. You have tea at your house? I’m gagging for a cuppa.”
Jaxon seemed at a loose end. He admitted that he was.
“People don’t realise how much downtime there is for actors. I still haven’t figured out
some other passion between movies.”
“Is it a problem?”
He grinned. “No. I like having my mind free to think…and to dream.”
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Jaxon came back home with me, spoiling Shao by giving her an extra cookie.
Downstairs, he wanted to clean out my closet, making space for all the new stuff. I begged
off, wanting to simply sip tea and share a sliced apple with him. Besides, I had early dinner
plans with Mouse. He looked so disappointed that I called her and she urged me to invite
him along. He seemed ridiculously pleased.
“An honest to God home-cooked meal? Are you joking? Tell me, what do folks in LA
have against dinner parties, anyway?” he asked.
“Nothing. I mean…my sister cooked last night.”
“Sweetheart, she bought everything from Costco and reheated it.”
“Oh.”
“So, what gives?”
“The dinner party thing?” I tried to remember the last dinner party I’d been to—it had
been at Mouse’s. Maybe it would cheer him up.
“I’ll follow you,” he insisted. “I don’t let anybody else drive me.”
We made a quick pit stop along the way at the CVS pharmacy on Ventura Boulevard,
where I loaded up on a bunch of toys for Mouse’s kids.
“Should we take wine?” Jaxon asked. A quick stop at BevMo resulted in him having to
pose for photographs with half the staff and several customers.
“Does that happen to you a lot?” I asked.
“It beats wearing clown pants,” he said as we hurried out to our cars again. He
followed me up the hill towards Mulholland Drive. Through the rear view mirror, I watched
him talking on his cell phone, wondering who he was talking to and how he managed to get
cell phone reception in the hills. I wished we’d driven together but he’d insisted on driving
himself. I had so many questions about the Full card, but he’d blocked all conversation about
it. I understood secrecy was key, but if I could put on weight, how come I felt full when all
I’d eaten the entire day was a cup of soup, a small salad and half an apple?
Maybe when he got to know me better, he’d trust me more.
He followed me up to Mouse’s spectacular and spacious Mediterranean-style
Mulholland Terrace home and we parked. Jaxon admired the proliferation of geraniums and
fuchsia out front. My godson Anthony came out to greet us. The kid was an old soul. He
stared at me through the white bars of the front gate.
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“Mom! Mom!” he screamed. She came running as if the place was on fire. Mouse and
the kids all stopped and stared at me. They couldn’t get over my new, trim, streamlined
body.
“You look awesome,” Mouse said. Tiny, with spiky, short blonde hair and huge blue
eyes, she was originally from Australia and so she hit it off right away with Jaxon.
“And who’s this handsome devil you’ve brought?” They twinkled at each other raving
about something called Iced VoVos, which I soon discovered were cookies. He ate two from
her cookie barrel and I noticed she handed him a whole packet, saying she bought them from
an online catalogue. I hoped she had no idea of pairing me off with Jaxon. Apart from a brief
kiss, I knew his heart lay elsewhere. However, he was an attentive, wonderful dinner
companion and immediately ingratiated himself with the kids.
“Look what we got you,” he told the youngest three. “Sea monkeys. I haven’t seen these
since I was a kid!” He busied himself in the kitchen, organising the creatures in their new
tank, showing the kids how to feed them.
“Jeez, he’s better looking in real life,” Mouse said, pulling me aside. “Are you hot and
heavy with him?”
“No!”
“Why not? He likes you. I can tell. Molly, please don’t shove that spoon up your nose,
darling! You’ll get blood on the carpet!” She rushed off after her four-year-old. Mouse’s
husband—whom we all call Moose owing to his massive size—was a studio session guitar
player for a bunch of heavy metal bands. He once toured with Yes, which had given him a
certain notoriety, but I’d say his passion is Mouse and their offspring.
He gave me a hug, then said, “What’s different about you?” then started slapping his
thigh like it was the funniest joke ever.
What I do like about Moose is that he doesn’t give a fig about personal appearance or
fashion. But he does love to chat. He and Mouse monopolised my guest, who didn’t seem to
mind at all. We dined al fresco on their terrace. Coyotes howled unseen out in the bushes
beyond their six foot high steel fence that somehow did not obstruct their amazing view of
Los Angeles. I could see Griffith Park Observatory and the Hollywood sign.
Anthony told me all about his girlfriend and how he practised kissing with her.
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I wanted to ask if he wasn’t too young at eight to practice kissing, but his parents
seemed to think his romantic nature was hysterical. When dinner was out of the way, the
kids ran off to play computer games in their rooms. Jaxon and Moose jammed on a couple of
Moose’s vintage Fender guitars in the living room and—like it says in the song You Will
Always Find Me in the Kitchen at Parties—I helped Mouse clean up the meal remnants.
“He’s divine,” Mouse insisted the second we were alone in her massive kitchen. She
stacked expensive dishes in the washer as I rinsed. Before I could respond, she hammered me
for my diet secrets.
“How’d you do it? C’mon… Was it drugs…? Surgery…?”
“Weight Watchers.” That was going to be my story and I would stick to it, too.
“But it takes me forever to lose weight on that programme,” she whined. “It’s taken
you, what, a whole week to lose a gazillion pounds?”
“Not that many,” I mumbled. I’d eaten a piece of salmon for dinner, a couple of scoops
of rice and steamed asparagus. I eyed the plate of Iced VoVos she handed me to take into the
living room and stuck one in my mouth.
“No!” she screeched, smacking it out of my teeth. “Don’t do it to yourself, love. You
look gorgeous.”
Is this what I had to look forward to? Food Nazidom on an even grander scale now that
I was skinny? Holy moly, which was worse? Before or after?
In the living room, Moose and Jaxon played nicely together, singing Smoke on the
Water—a little off key but with enormous enthusiasm.
“We need to head off,” Jaxon said, giving me a significant look. Was he coming on to
me?
“Oh, love, we won’t keep you.” Mouse took the cookies out of my hand, thrust them
into Moose’s waiting paws and gave Jaxon a huge hug.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She leered. Since I knew she and Moose had a fine
and feisty sex life, I felt that left my options wide open.
“Let’s go back to your place and test drive your skinny arse,” Jaxon said, loud enough
for the entire neighbourhood to hear. Our hosts laughed, but I wasn’t so sure this was a good
idea.
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I said nothing, leading the way down the mountain road and back across Mulholland
Highway to my small canyon street. A bedraggled-looking coyote strolled the shoulder in a
dejected way. It was limping. My heart broke for it. I actually like coyotes and feel we’ve
encroached on their turf. I wanted to rescue the animal but had no idea if it was vicious or
rabid. I kept moving, Jaxon right on my tail. At my house, we took out the dog one more
time. She was bursting, poor thing. She seemed much happier for our company—being alone
so often—but James was funny about letting me take her downstairs. Besides, he was
supposed to be home tonight.
“Let’s take her downstairs,” Jaxon suggested. “We’ll leave him a note.”
Shao-Ying is such an emotional dog. Her eyes lit up when she realised we weren’t
abandoning her. She tore down the stairs ahead of us, prancing when she got to my door.
I unlocked it as Jaxon fondled my ass. “I believe this is where we left off last night,” he
said, “before you ran away.”
He pushed me inside before I could protest. The dog ran ahead, flinging herself onto
the living room floor next to the basket of tennis balls I keep just for her. Jaxon kicked the
door shut then locked it as he pushed me against the wall, pressing up hard and close to me,
kissing me.
I never thought in a million years that I would tell a gorgeous, lovely, major movie star
that I couldn’t go through with this, but after a sweet and sexy exchange of delicious kisses,
in which I could taste strawberry jam and coconut on his tongue, I broke off shakily.
“Jaxon…I can’t. I’m sorry.”
He seemed in a daze. “Can’t? What? What do you mean?” He moved the upper part of
his body away from me, the bottom half still rubbing against me. I could feel his very hard
cock like steel against the hip band of my jeans. Aw jeez, he’s got a big one. It had been months
since I’d been near a cock and he was so sweet. What was I doing?
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Don’t you like me?”
“Of course I like you, you stupid man. I just can’t fall in love with you.”
“Whoa.” He threw up his hands and moved away. “Who said anything about love? We
like each other, we’re both horny. I’m trying to help you here.”
“Help me?”
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“There are certain things about the Full programme you’ll learn and the only thing I can
tell you is that you have to start living your life. You have no more excuses now. No more
weight to hide behind. Getting laid gives a man a certain confidence…a kind of swagger. I’m
trying to help you get your balls back.”
I opened and closed my mouth since I had no sensible response.
“Look,” he said. “You’re still hung up on your ex—what’s his name…Diego Sanchez—
and I’m hung up on Keith. We aren’t gonna be with them…we have to get past them.”
“I’m not—” It was no use. He was right. I was still stuck on Diego, the bastard. Funny
how he was embarrassed by my weight. “Lose some weight and then call me,” had been his
parting remark the last time I’d seen him. Well, here I was, all nice and skinny…and he still
thought I had a long way to go. Guess I’ll never be good enough for him.
“What do you love about Keith?” Until I glanced up from the floor to look at Jaxon, I
hadn’t noticed the burning intensity to his gaze.
His whole face changed.
“He’s amazing. He’s a political economist, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know. I thought he was a trainer.”
“He is.” A desperate look came over his eyes.
What I know as a lifelong fatty is that we all eat for a reason. People I know who are
severely overweight and struggle with it have come to trust me and, vice versa, with some of
the reasons behind it. Or at least, I’ve come to glean the reasons. They don’t discuss the
emotional aspects to eating at Weight Watchers, just the end results. What I have learned is
that many of us have experienced such trauma that we stuff it all down with food. What I
also discovered is that it’s the worst addiction to have because we need food to survive. It’s
not like we can go cold turkey. I’ve always wondered why society treats us worse than
alcoholics or drug addicts. I guess being fat isn’t as sexy as being strung out on artificial
stimulants.
I had no idea what had triggered Jaxon’s weight issues, but I had a strong sense that
Keith somehow assuaged all his pain.
“You could have anyone in the world you wanted,” I said. The dog padded back into
the hallway to see what was taking us so long. “What is it about him?”
“He’s so brainy and smart…I know I could help him.”
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“A fixer-upper?” I still didn’t see the attraction. LA was full of hot guys in need of
emotional and spiritual intervention.
“He used to be fat, too.” Ah. Now I understood. We were all of the same tribe.
“So, he understands our handicap.”
Jaxon nodded, swallowing hard.
“Does he know about…Full?”
He frowned. “Of course not. He’d think I was crazy.”
“So he didn’t get a business card and the female voice?”
“Not that I know of.”
I pushed him back gently, kissing his cheek. “Come on, let’s have some tea.”
“Tea would be good.”
I led the way down the hallway and switched on more lights. The dog seemed happier
now we were with her. I wondered how she endured all those nights alone upstairs.
“What kind of tea do you want?” I asked him.
“I don’t really want tea. I’d rather get in bed with you and fool around naked. I know
talking about sex is the kiss of death for it, but it would be nice to hold you and talk.”
Only guys could make sense of such irrationality, but if I was going to get naked with
all the lights on for the first time with a guy, maybe a sensitive soul like Jaxon would be best.
I would have nothing to lose. No recriminations, no regrets. No fear.
It shocked me how easily I could be persuaded to toss off every last item of clothing. He
shocked me by how nicely he played with my cock and balls. Still fully clothed, he ran his
hands over my body.
Of course, I got hard instantly. Oh, boy.
“She really does a nice job,” he murmured getting to his knees. She? I realised he meant
the woman from Full. I wondered about her for a brief moment, but soon became delightfully
distracted as he took my cock into his mouth. I’d never had a man go down on me
straightaway. It had become my stock in trade, as a way of making up for my ungainly
appearance. Men always raved about my blow jobs.
But, alas, he didn’t blow me. He tortured me. He sucked my cock, fondled my balls and
just as I was getting really excited, he pulled away from me.
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“Take my clothes off,” he said. And I did. I fully expected as I took off his minuscule
Italian underpants that he’d want me to blow him, but instead he took my hand. It was nice
that we both had raging cocks as we slipped between the sheets. His body was amazing. I
ran my fingers over his rock-hard abs and he kissed me. His hand strayed towards my cock,
and pre-cum leaked against his fingers. It made him smile.
He kissed me again, his hand rubbing circles around my belly. He stopped kissing me,
pulling me into his arms. He lay on his back, my arm pillowing his head as he told me all his
childhood traumas, occasionally reaching out to stroke my cock when he thought it was
going down. My hard erection lay against his leg. As he talked, I stroked his cock too. I
mirrored whatever he did.
There wasn’t anything unusual in his story except that his early loss had been his father.
He’d suffered at the hands of a drug-addled mother who sent him to the booze shop—as he
put it—with the family’s meagre earnings to buy her beer.
“I got beaten up for her money one day. When I came home, she gave me a licking,
too.”
People eat and people fuck for a variety of reasons, but mostly to feel better. For the
brief moment you have something in your mouth, life feels good. Jaxon had so much pain
and grief stored inside those hard abs. I understood his feelings for Keith. It wasn’t that Keith
was so fantastic. Not as far as I could see. It was the sense of loss. When you’ve experienced
such horrible deprivation, such loneliness, you yearn for control. The one thing you can
usually control is what goes into your mouth.
I bent down and licked and kissed his cock head. He stroked my hair. I knew he was
crying.
“Jesus,” he suddenly said, pulling me back into his arms. “I wanted this to be so good
for you.”
“It is good,” I said. “Just hold me.”
And he did.
* * * *
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I have no idea when we fell asleep, but I dreamt of a naked Diego and—drat the luck—
the
Pão de Queijo
that still hadn’t come out of the oven. Only now I hungered for the
Brazilian, not so much the cheese puffs. I awoke at two in the morning, according to my
digital clock, to a loud banging on the front door. The building had motion-sensor lights that
now filtered into my bedroom. Shao-Ying started barking, racing down the hallway, and I
got up, removing myself from Jaxon’s arms to rush to the door.
He moaned, turning over in his sleep.
I forgot I was naked until I opened it. James stood there with two friends. They all
grinned when they saw me.
“James,” one of them said, “aren’t you going to introduce us?”
I grinned back at James as Shao got between us, going berserk at her father’s
appearance.
“What the fuck…Barney?”
“Yep.” I rocked on my heels.
“Who’s at the door?” Jaxon poked his head around the door, and I thought James
would fall over.
“I thought you said he was fat,” one of the guys said.
“Yeah,” the other one chimed in. “Desperate and dateless.”
“Not Barney,” Jaxon said, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my face. All three
men stared. Here I was in a naked movie star’s arms.
“Barney?” James asked again.
“Yep.” I felt like giggling. Jaxon’s chin stubble tickled my face as he kissed me.
Shao kept throwing herself at James, demanding attention. He finally bent and petted
her, his gaze rising to look right at my cock.
“Excuse us, will you?” Jaxon asked, giving them a finger wave. “We’re a little busy.”
“Er…no…” James looked stunned. “Um…thanks for looking after Shao,” he said.
“No problem. We love her.” Jaxon pushed the door shut. That ‘we’ might have been the
nicest thing anybody ever said about me.
As we ran back to the bedroom, we could hear the three men trooping up the stairs.
James kept saying angrily, “Well, he was fat three days ago.”
“Yeah, yeah,” one of them said. “Man, you made him sound like such a loser.”
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A loser? My euphoria died. I was a successful voice-over artist. How did that make me a
loser?
“He was fat,” James insisted. “Fat!”
“What an ass,” Jaxon said, pulling me into his arms as their voices receded. He held me
as we got back into bed. I kept trembling. I couldn’t get warm. I couldn’t believe people
thought I’d been a loser because I’d been fat.
“Everyone has value judgements,” Jaxon said, kissing my temple. It was as if he could
read my thoughts.
“I know.”
“Remember something too—sometimes the roughest things we hear about us are things
we’ve thought ourselves. It’s like a freak show mirror for the soul.”
There seemed some truth to that. Had I thought of myself as a loser? He rubbed my
arms and made me feel better. He kissed and touched me and got me hard again. Happy. I
realised he wasn’t going to fuck me, suck me, or make love with me. But he’d done
something more.
He was helping to give me back my balls.
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Chapter Four
I woke up a little before seven, my cock hard and firmly held in Jaxon’s grip. Jeez, I
could get used to this. His own cock rubbed at my tailbone, the motion—featherlight at
first—becoming more insistent. I couldn’t believe it when I felt him poking at my ass. He was
spooning me, moving up and down, his cock trapped between our bodies.
“You want to…” I started to say. But I realised he was doing exactly what he wanted to
do. He was taking care of business for both of us. Medicinal sex. Waking up with a boner
was a given. Having somebody help you out with it—bonus!
“This feels perfect.” He kissed the back of my neck, his face moving to my shoulders
and throat. He kept kissing, stroking and rubbing. His hand moved from my cock to my
balls, where he held me tight for one brief moment before resuming his command of my
hungry shaft.
“I can’t touch you this way,” I complained. “I want to jerk you off, too.”
“Shut up and enjoy.”
And I did—his expert fingers rolling over the top of my cock head and slipping back
again. He seemed to know how much pressure to put on me, his hold loosening each time he
pulled back down again. As his hand stroked upwards, it felt like I was fucking a nice, tight,
warm ass. The last man I’d fucked was Diego and my heart and body still craved him.
Rockets fused behind my eyes, white lights blinding me in take-off as I came all over Jaxon’s
caring, insistent hand. He came, too, as my butt snuggled against his ball sac. Oh, what a
glorious way to start the day.
He dragged me out of bed. “You need the bathroom?”
“Pee,” I said. “I need a cup of coffee before number two.”
He peed with me. I couldn’t remember the last time I peed with a guy. Not even Diego.
I’d always been the behind-closed-doors type.
Jaxon couldn’t wait for me to get on the scales. One hundred and forty-six pounds. How
the heck had I lost a pound?
“Well done, mate,” Jaxon said, clapping me on the back.
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“How’d I do that?”
He shrugged. “You didn’t eat much yesterday. Let’s rectify that immediately.” He
checked his watch. “How about breakfast? On me?”
“Sounds good,” I said. I let him push me into the shower, where we saved water
washing each other down. We started getting hard again and he turned off the taps. We liked
each other, and I could easily have fallen for him, but I knew he wasn’t for me nor was I the
one for him. I gave him a clean pair of underpants—brand new underpants, as a matter of
fact—but he shook his head.
“Mate, I have some clobber in the trunk of my car.”
What the heck was clobber?
He ran out of the house and up the stairs to his car with a towel wrapped around his
waist.
“Gym bag,” he said, returning with it and dumping it on my bedroom floor. “I always
carry extra clobber with me.” He shook out a T-shirt, underpants and socks. Okay,
apparently clobber meant clothes. We got dressed and headed outside.
“I’ll drive.” He grinned at me. “I’ve got my Prius. I can’t believe that with all the
driving I do, I haven’t had to fill the gas tank once since I bought it. Hey, you look fantastic.
Don’t you feel good?”
“Yeah.” And I did. I’d slipped on a new pair of jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt I would
have looked atrocious in two days ago. I did feel good, but it shook me that I kept thinking
about Diego. I’d forgotten all about him…at least, I’d stopped agonising over him and had
done a good job of drying out the wound. And then I’d seen him again. Now I was nursing
fresh psychic injuries.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked as he bombed down Coldwater Canyon towards
Sunset Boulevard and Hollywood.
“Seeing Diego kinda threw me.”
“Maybe you should call him.”
“Call him?” That took me by surprise.
“Why’d you break up?”
“He said I was fat.”
“C’mon. Surely you were…well…fat when you met him. What changed?”
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“I don’t know.” He was picking at the wound, and I felt suddenly hot. Hot and sweaty.
“Shit. You still have it for him. Well, maybe it can work out this time?”
I said nothing. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out and glanced at the
readout, surprised I could get a signal in the canyons.
Looking forward to seeing you. Golf course booked for two. Norma says stay for dinner. Ribs!
Love, Dad. xoxo
Oh, no. It was my day to visit my father up in Summerland for a round of golf. What
the hell would he say when he saw me? I met up with him every other week. He’d flip out at
my skinny state.
“Something wrong?”
I came out of my reverie long enough to explain.
“Oh, but that sounds awesome. Take me with you. I need something to do. We’ll have a
good breakfast and head right up there. I adore those beach communities.”
“You want to come and play golf with my father.” It was a statement, not a question. I
wanted to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.
“Hell, yeah. I like hanging out with you and when I turned…when I got skinny… I
wish somebody had been there for me. It’s fucked how it plays with your head, innit?”
“Yeah.” I felt so grateful I became overwhelmed. “Thank you, Jaxon. You just don’t
know…” I broke off the words, because of course he did know. He understood. I was
learning to fly and he’d make sure I would.
His cell phone rang. Keith. We looked at each other.
“I’m not answering it.” He punched at the readout on his dashboard. “I need to sort
some things out in my head.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“We already did. You made me remember what’s important. You said you didn’t want
to fall in love with me and that’s smart. He told me not to fall in love with him, but I did
anyway. Not smart. I’m telling you, that’s what’s important. Love. Feeling full. Ya know?”
I did know. Could we ever have that? Would we ever feel full?
For a guy who hadn’t been in town very long, he knew his way around very well. He
even knew all the shortcuts. He soon cut through a couple of tiny narrow canyon streets,
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spilling out on to Laurel Canyon before making a sharp turn left on Hollywood Boulevard.
When I commented on his local knowledge, he grinned.
“I’ve been dreaming of moving here ever since I was a little boy. I’ve been practising
my Academy Awards speech since I was seven.”
“Did you practice with a pretend Oscar?”
“Of course I did. I used a bottle of my Dad’s Old Spice cologne.”
“How does your speech go?”
He laughed. “It’s changed over the years. It used to be quite long but if they cut me off
mid-speech with loud music, I’d kill myself. So now, I keep it short. ‘I’d like to thank me and
my dog, Spike’.”
“Do you have a dog called Spike?”
“I used to. I would still like to thank him. I promised him.”
“Of course.”
We grinned at each other. He drove up Beachwood Canyon, surprising me by parking
outside The Village Coffee Shop—one of the most bohemian yet eternally hip cafés in the
heart of LA. It had been called Victor’s for years and I still thought of it that way, but there
was a new restaurant called Victor’s a couple of blocks away. I caught a glimpse of myself in
the shiny window as we walked to the door. Man…I’m stylin’!
Inside the cosy interior, I noticed Anthony Kiedis from The Red Hot Chili Peppers in a
corner with a couple of friends, and did a double-take when I saw Brad Pitt and one of his
children enjoying breakfast together.
As we waited for a table, a hand waved in our direction. Jaxon was on his cell phone
having a tense conversation with Keith by the sound of things. He ended the call and sighed
just as the hand-waver stood.
“Keith just told me he tried to break up with your sister and she had a near meltdown
in the gym parking lot.”
I bet she did. I was too busy staring at the man grinning at me to respond…besides
which, I’m loyal to a fault. Caedon Fargo. He came over, looking pleased to see me until he
locked eyes with Jaxon. I could tell something transpired between them that was bigger than
me, bigger than them…bigger than Gunga Din. Shit. Of course they’d fall for each other.
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Man, I got skinny but my hideous mojo of the men I liked falling for others hadn’t fallen
off me with all that fat. I liked Caedon. I had to remind myself, though, that he hadn’t called
me and he had complained about me. When he hugged me, though, it was difficult to hold a
grudge. I’ve never been the grudge type. Well, not externally anyway. My way of dealing
with every little hurt was to eat more cupcakes. I took a deep breath and manned up,
introducing Caedon and Jaxon.
Neither man said much but Jaxon was more than eager to sit right beside my frequent
employer. They got chatting and never stopped. Squeezed around us were four guys who
seemed nice enough, but it was awkward trying to make conversation when Caedon and
Jaxon were in their own little world.
“Try the French toast,” a chubby guy way down the end of the table said. “It comes
with blueberries and bananas.”
We exchanged grins.
“You don’t recognise me, do you?” he asked. I blinked.
“Weight Watchers. I sat next to you last week.”
“Oh, you did? I’m sorry.”
“You’ve lost a ton of weight. How’d you do it?”
“I stuck to my points,” I lied, grateful for the diversion of having to order my breakfast.
Beside me, Jaxon leaned closer to Caedon. Their pheromones were almost palpable. I
felt suddenly hot. The chubby guy caught my eye and grinned.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
I was about to tell him when a burst of laughter from Caedon and Jaxon silenced half
the café. They were making jokes about their unusual names. The words, “They fit so well
together,” floated across the table to me.
Jeez, Louise.
Down the end of the table, the chubby guy kept a smile on his face and a funny
repertoire of jokes. I’d been in his shoes two days ago. He seemed very nice, but once again, I
didn’t know the guy.
By the time the check arrived, I was more than ready to leave. I made a point of going
over to the chubby guy and introducing myself.
“Hey, I’m Barney Calloway.”
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His smile was sweet and sincere. “Scott Salem. Nice to meet you. Did you realise
Caedon’s been trying to set us up for the longest time?”
“He has?” This shocked me. I wondered what Caedon thought we had in common
apart from…food.
“I’m really impressed with your weight loss,” he said, talking right over my addled
thoughts. “I’m lucky if I can lose a pound or two a week, but I have to admit, I stray into the
spare points we get more than I should.”
If he only knew my truth… I was mortified now. I’d thought Caedon was somehow
interested in me. Now I knew he hadn’t been. What had made me think a hot guy like him
would be a chubby chaser?
“Maybe we could meet under quieter circumstances,” Scott said. He handed me a
business card. Right away, it got my back up. It was one of those square cards that people
thought were so cool.
“Absolutely,” I lied. “I’ll call you.” It had nothing to do with weight. It wasn’t just that
he was overweight and I no longer was…at least, I didn’t think it was. I tried to sort through
my spiralling emotions. My thoughts all ended at the same point.
Diego. Fuck. I still wasn’t over him. Would I ever be?
“I’ll call you,” I said again. Hey, maybe I could help Scott. Maybe I could pay it forward to
him.
Jaxon, reluctant to leave Caedon, made sure he had every last number for the guy.
“Let’s go!” he trilled, then pestered me for all the details I had on the guy for the entire
two-hour drive to Summerland.
“I can never get used to driving in LA,” Jaxon said as he changed lines like a lunatic on
the 101 freeway heading north. “Why does a fifteen-mile drive take an hour? Why is this
ninety-minute drive taking two hours? How long will the golf game be? If I call Caedon in an
hour is that too soon?”
“No idea,” I said.
“You’re grumpy.”
“Confused.”
“Grumpy.”
“Confused.”
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“Okay. What are you confused about?” he asked.
“Diego. He broke my heart and I’ve worked so hard to forget him.”
“There are no accidents. You do know that, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“My feeling is you’re meant to call this guy. Maybe you need a resolution to your
relationship, or as you Yanks are so fond of calling it, closure.”
Why did that sound like torture?
“I don’t know…”
“Well, I do know. And I say you should call him.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
He watched me fiddle with my cell phone as I texted my father that we were close. I
had no idea how he would feel about company, but frankly, I relished the idea of a day with
him on the links without him moaning about his sex life with my stepmother.
“Give that to me.” Jaxon snatched the phone out of my hand. “What’s his last name?”
I swallowed hard. Maybe he was right. Maybe I should face the demon. My demon. Or
demons. I knew in my heart my weight issues had destroyed my relationship with Diego.
What if he didn’t want closure?
“His name is just Diego.”
“I found it. I’m dialling. Oh, he just answered.” He thrust the phone into my hand.
“Hello?” he asked, sounding irritated.
“Diego.”
A sharp intake of breath. “Barney. What the fuck?”
Oh, this wasn’t a promising start.
“Are you there?”
“Yes.” My voice came out in an unsexy squeak.
“What do you want?”
“Talk.” I cleared my throat. “I want to talk.”
“About what?”
Oh, no. He definitely didn’t want closure. I sucked up my fear. Where was a candy bar
when a person needed one?
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“I want to talk about what happened.”
“What happened? Are you kidding me right now?”
“No.”
“I’ve nothing to say. Have a fantastic life. Okay?”
“Sure. Okay.”
“Okay.” He ended the call.
“Oh, shit,” Jaxon said, “what an ass!”
I started to cry. Every last bad thing I had ever felt about myself came to the surface.
Jaxon was a doll. He pulled over to the shoulder with his foot on the brake then put his arms
around me.
“It’s okay,” he said. “This was bound to happen. It isn’t easy receiving a miracle. Trust
me. I know. I’ve been there. We’re on the inside now, bub, and we have to deal with it.”
He was so kind, so understanding. A new realisation dawned on me.
“You could have hung out with Caedon today.”
He pulled back a little and stared at me, his cheeks turning pink.
“Yeah.”
“But you chose to stay with me. Why?”
He switched off the engine.
“Because I’ve been there. I keep telling you. This gift is a great big, fucking burden,
mate. Nobody explained it to me and I stumbled around in a mental wilderness for weeks. I
want to help you…guide you through accepting, and understanding the gift. We’re kind of
ambassadors, you know. You’ll find your intuition sharpening. You’ll feel you’re on a great
big, bloody rollercoaster sometimes, but you will also find happiness.”
He smiled at me, putting his hands on my face and wiping away my tears with gentle
fingers.
“I have tissues in the glove box.”
Opening it, I retrieved some, just as a Metro truck pulled in front of us. Jaxon lowered
the window and thanked the driver who approached us.
“We’re okay, mate,” he said. “Thanks.”
“You need gas?”
Jaxon checked his gauge. The tank was three-quarters full.
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“Sure, why not?” Jaxon grinned at me. “Take the gifts wherever they come from.”
“I’ll remember that.”
We looked at each other and laughed.
* * * *
My father’s home in Summerland was an original 1910 craftsman home situated on
several acres of land with trees, a small pond and tons of jungle gyms for his kids. It was
considered a relic by California standards. We pulled into the driveway of the home, heavily-
laden jacaranda trees dropping blossoms onto the car even as we stepped away.
“This is nice.” Jaxon’s admiring glance took it all in.
“Dad was smart. As each neighbour moved, he bought up their houses, knocked ‘em
down and made one huge piece of land.”
“Very smart.”
We knocked on the door, and my stepmother answered it. Like I said before, I get along
with her but she is huge. So are my dad and their two pre-teens.
“Oh my God, look at you.” She gave me a hug. I introduced Norma to Jaxon.
“Your father’s in the backyard trying out his new clubs he got on eBay. Can I get you
something cold to drink? I just made a fresh batch of strawberry lemonade. Or would you
prefer beer?”
We both asked for the strawberry lemonade and wandered out to find Dad, who didn’t
seem to like his new clubs much. I was a bit surprised Norma hadn’t said more about my
weight, but I was even more shocked when my Dad looked me up and down and said, “Did
you have surgery?”
“No, Dad. I’d like you to meet my friend, Jaxon.”
“Hey, Jaxon.” Dad shook his hand. “I think I got ripped off.” He and Jaxon got into a
discussion about the new golf clubs. My head began to spin. I thought Dad would be pleased
for me. Then I realised he and his family always ate and loved that I ate with them. I
remembered too late that I’d forgotten to bring the kids the dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts I
always brought them. I’d have to remember to eat like a pig tonight.
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My cell phone rang. Jaxon had Dad laughing at the way he wielded a nine iron. He was
deliberately clowning around and I realised two things in the same instant—my dad felt
awkward about my weight loss and Jaxon wanted him to feel better.
Another thing was that Diego was calling. I answered.
“Oh, thank God,” he said. “I’ve just been told I sounded like all kinds of a bastard when
I spoke to you.”
“You were.”
A pause. “I know. I’m sorry.”
I wondered who’d told him how awful he’d been, but he plunged on. “Sophia’s here.”
She was his sous chef and had been my best friend until Diego and I broke up. It had
devastated me to lose her as well as him. Hearing her name again tore fresh edges to the
wounds.
“We should talk, but not on the phone.” Wow. He was nervous, I could tell.
“That would be great.”
He was silent for a moment. “Thank you. Thanks for not hanging up on me. Listen, I
know it’s your golf day with your Dad—”
“How do you know that?”
“Have you ever missed a game with him?”
“Um…no.”
“Right. So…let’s meet tomorrow. For coffee. I have shopping to do in the morning. I
gotta go to the fish market. And the flower market. Say, you wanna go with me? Just like the
old days?”
“Fuck…yes.” I missed those times. I’d adored seeing him in action, purchasing all the
things he required for his perfect, delectable creations.
“I’ll pick you up at five,” he said. “Don’t forget to let the old man win.”
* * * *
For the next couple of hours, I alternated between feeling panicked about spending time
with Diego the following day…and experiencing crippling terror at the prospect.
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My father, who had a bad day on his home-made links, cheered up when Norma came
out around three o’clock with a laden tea tray bearing pound cake with fresh berries, a huge
bowl of whipped cream and four steaming cups of coffee.
He tossed aside his driver the way a little kid would discard a crappy toy and bolted for
the shaded porch. Jaxon and I joined them. As I took a seat, I gazed out to sea, just visible
from the property’s boundaries. The water churned in a soft, foamy grey—kind of how I felt
inside. There was a tense moment when Norma offered me some cake.
“Yes, please.”
I saw her and my dad visibly relax. Dad’s good humour was restored as we all piled on
the cream and fresh berries.
“Mmm, good,” I told my stepmother, who beamed. What I loved about Norma was that
she never tried to pretend Cyan and I didn’t have another mother. In fact, my grief-stricken
father kept her ashes in an urn on his nightstand for years and they were now buried in their
garden. I have always appreciated that Norma observes my mother’s birthday and Mother’s
Day with freshly planted wildflowers. I once saw her leave a slice of fruitcake at Christmas
by the site marked with wild orchids and a beautiful, flat rock with her name—Marianne—
and the dates of her birth and death inscribed on it.
I’d thought it was sweet, but my father said it was a few too many glasses of Christmas
cheer.
“What’s going on with your sister?” Dad suddenly asked. “I came into LA for a meeting
with Hugo yesterday and he was a mess.”
He came to LA and didn’t call me? Why did he do that?
“I don’t know,” I said. In truth, as of that moment, I really didn’t know.
“He says she’s banging her trainer.”
Jaxon sprayed a mouthful of coffee over the table. I didn’t worry. I knew my parents
would eat whatever was on there, anyway. I couldn’t believe Hugo would tell my father
their secrets.
“You see,” my father said, turning to Norma, “some couples do have unorthodox
arrangements.”
Her cheeks flushed as she held her cup to her lips. Nice going, Dad.
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We were saved from further conversation by the arrival of my half-brother and sister,
who’d just come home from school. They were bigger than ever. I gazed at Ricky, a boy I
adore…in moderation. He tended to be a whiny cry-baby and at the age of twelve already
weighed more than my father. His sister, Randy, reached right over me for the last piece of
cake.
I stared at Ricky in shock. I could see the same expression in Jaxon’s eyes, but he was
simply charming with the kids. I could tell Randy was moving in for a full-court swoon.
Norma excused herself to get some more cake. I followed her into the kitchen, where
she busied herself removing a fresh loaf of pound cake out of its aluminium packaging.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Your father is so sex-obsessed.”
Oh, God…not her, too. Why did everyone tell me their sex problems? Why did they think
I was some expert when, hell’s bells, it had been eight months since I’d had any?
“He wants to have a threesome. Can you imagine?”
I shook my head. I tried to visualise it. It was beyond my fertile mind.
“He booked a hooker. Can you believe it?”
She banged the foil package hard on the counter and the rubbery contents bounced onto
the floor. We gazed at each other. As if by unspoken agreement, she slapped it on the cake
plate, flicking off dust bunnies stuck to the sides.
Note to self. Do not eat the cake.
“A hooker?”
Why did I suddenly crave a candy bar again? I looked around the kitchen. I opened her
cat-shaped cookie jar and peered inside. A packet of Hot Tamales. No. I wanted chocolate.
“What do you need, sweetie?”
“A Mars Bar.”
“Oh, sweetie. You really shouldn’t. You’ll put on weight again.”
“But I want one.”
She didn’t hesitate to point to the pantry. “There’s four different kinds.”
I walked inside and almost keeled over at the monstrous selection of cookies, cakes and
candies. I took a Mars Bar out of an opened box and retraced my footsteps.
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“He’s been talking online to some woman.” Norma kept flicking at the cake. She was a
pretty woman with sensational ash-blonde hair, blue eyes that I would describe as being the
shade of hydrangeas and a cleavage your average mountain range would envy.
“Turns out she’s a hooker and he wants to watch me with her. Honestly.” She thunked
around some more, hacking at the cake with heavy knife strokes.
“Last Saturday night, my mom took the kids and he invited his lady friend here. It was
horrible.”
I was so appalled, I couldn’t even bring myself to open the candy bar.
“You had sex with her?”
“Not me. Him. They started. It was pretty obvious they were hot for each other. They
were on our bed—my bed—rolling around. He wanted to watch me with her, but I couldn’t
bring myself to do it.”
“So…what did you do?”
“Got hysterical, hit him over the head with a baguette and told her to get out of my
house.”
I winced. I couldn’t imagine what had possessed my father.
“He pays her for…” She pointed to her mouth with her pinky finger.
“Blow jobs?”
“Shhh!”
“Oh, sorry.” I didn’t know what to say. My father had never let on. He was too busy
whining about how Norma falls asleep.
“Was the hooker fat or thin?” I asked.
She looked at me, huge pools of tears threatening to invade her eyes.
“Thin. I believe she’s played his bugle twice now. He swears it won’t happen again but
I see him hunched over his desktop computer in his bathrobe morning, noon and night. I
know what goes on.”
I wanted to clap my hands over my ears.
“He says he’s happy with me the way I am, but if that’s true, why’s he running around
with her?”
“I don’t know.” I really didn’t.
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“If I was skinny, my life would be perfect,” she said, picking up the cake, squaring her
shoulders and going back outside.
I couldn’t wait until I could leave. My father kept trying to corner me, and my siblings
kept trying to tell me all their news. Then Jaxon told me he wanted to meet Caedon back in
LA. He’d done a bang-up job of putting up with my family and I was happy to let him off the
hook. As we hugged everyone goodbye, my nephew said, “You know, Barney, you were a
lot more fun when you were fat.”
Jaxon laughed, which made me laugh, but it hurt like hell. Was it true?
On the drive back home, Jaxon and I talked about how our personalities changed when
we didn’t need to hide behind the ‘I’m fat and happy’ façade.
He dropped me home. I’d more or less decided I was going to cancel Diego. I couldn’t
face him right after my fucked-up family.
“Go,” Jaxon said. “Don’t cancel. You are not your family. You are you. You have earned
the right to be happy, Barney.”
I thanked him, wishing he wasn’t driving away from me. I’d never spent so much time
with someone and been so comfortable. The feeling disappeared as I walked down to my
home. There on my doorstep was Diego, waiting for me.
“Surprise,” he said, giving me a finger wave.
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Chapter Five
He followed me inside. “Did you have fun?”
“Not really.”
When I switched on lights, I caught his sly grin and his gaze flickering around the place.
God, he was still hot. There was a time when we would have been attacking each other like
wolves, so hungry for each other we couldn’t wait to get horizontal. Sometimes, he took me
right up against the wall. I licked my lips. Jeez, was I getting hard?
“I can imagine your weight loss touched a nerve.”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“How’d you do it?”
Why did everyone ask that?
“Tea?” I asked.
“No. I brought wine.” He held up a bottle of Coppola merlot. He hadn’t forgotten it’s
my favourite. I hadn’t seen it when he’d been sitting outside.
I took the bottle. In the kitchen, I grabbed a corkscrew out of the utility drawer. I felt his
warm breath tickling the back of my neck as he leaned into me, snatching both out of my
hands, taking over.
Reaching for a couple of glasses, I became aware of my shaking hands.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“A bit.”
“A lot.”
“Okay, a lot.”
He smiled as he poured us each a glass, fashionably filling them halfway. Retreating to
the living room, he sat on the sofa and I took the wing chair.
“Not much has changed here, except for you.” He sipped his wine.
“You’re nervous too.” It surprised me to see him looking less than in total control.
There was another moment where I thought we could easily tear at each other’s clothes and
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launch straight into white-hot, screeching monkey sex. Instead, we exchanged weighted
glances and kept sipping our liquid buffers like refined men.
“Yes, I’m nervous. I was surprised to hear from you. I thought if I was nasty and cruel
enough, you’d leave well enough alone.”
“Is that what you want?”
He didn’t respond. He picked up a couple of my new DVDs and examined the covers.
“Do you hate me that much?” The sudden clarity took me by surprise.
“I don’t hate you.” His glittering eyes told me a different story.
I waited. I had a feeling he had plenty more to say.
“Who is it that you love enough to lose all that weight for him?”
“I didn’t lose weight for another man.”
He stared into his glass. “But you didn’t call me when it happened.”
Happened? I stared at him. Did he know about Full?
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” I said. “It took everything in me to call you
today.” And then some.
“How’d you do it? Stomach staples?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I had so much I wanted to say to you and now you’re here,
I’m tongue-tied.” I glanced at him. Each second my gaze lingered sent shards of agony into
my heart. He was still the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. “Actually, now my brain seems
to be working. Why are you here?”
He gave me a weird sort of smile. “I had a funny feeling you might cancel tomorrow.”
“It crossed my mind.”
He stared at the last dregs in his glass. “You look great. I never thought I’d see you
so…slim. You don’t seem happy, though, Barney.”
“I’m not. The man I love just told me he wants me to leave well enough alone.”
He shrugged. “A lot of water under our bridge, my darling.”
Yes, there was. We had so much in common. The heartache of losing our mothers so
young—both to cancer. Our individual handicaps—his being illiteracy, mine being my
weight, except that I’d been a lot more supportive of his travails than he’d been of mine.
“So, are you eating at all?” he asked me, “Or are you existing on crushed ice and
cigarettes?”
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“Nope. Ask my father. He’ll tell you I ate pound cake and baby back ribs today.”
He grinned. “Glad to hear you’re not starving yourself.”
“No, I’m not.” I sensed he was closing our talk and I swam in the ether searching,
fumbling in the dark for some bright, witty response that would keep him with me longer.
“You want a top up?” he asked.
I didn’t really, but I agreed to it. Anything to keep him here. I felt we were standing on
opposite sides of a huge, shark-infested ocean and I had no idea how to get to him.
He went into the kitchen and came back. “I see you’re still watching The Ghost and Mrs
Muir.”
“Yes. It’s one of my favourites, thanks to you.”
“You don’t have to wait until you die to find happiness, Barney.”
“Sometimes it feels that way. You left me and took all the sunshine with you.”
He almost dropped the bottle.
“Is that how you see it?” He banged the bottle and his glass onto the coffee table and
began to pace. “That’s you flipping the script, Barney.” He jabbed a finger at me. “You always
flip the script. I fucking loved you.”
“You loved me? I still love you.”
“Don’t split hairs!”
“You said I was fat.”
“You were fat.” He lost his temper then. “I didn’t care that you were fat. I wouldn’t have
cared if you were cross-eyed, fat, thin, blue, white or whatever. You just weren’t happy with
yourself. If you weren’t happy with you, how could I be happy with you?”
He had me there.
“And another thing…”
Lord, there’s more?
“You never ate my food! I’d cook beautiful meals and you’d make a big deal about
eating carrots and grapes in front of me, but I knew you were sneaking food behind my back.
That’s why I got mad at you. I spent two days making a special birthday dinner for you and
you wouldn’t eat.”
Diego looked so upset that I stood and reached for him.
“Don’t,” he said. “Just don’t. I can’t have you touching me.”
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“I need to touch you, baby. I can’t do this without you. I need you.”
Diego shook his head even as I put my arms around him.
“No,” he said, his voice really small.
His head dropped to my shoulder and I stroked his back. It felt so good to hold him. If I
could have trapped that small moment in time, put it in a jar and held it, I would have.
“Oh, God.” He pushed himself away from me. He smacked at the tears on his face.
“You don’t even feel like you. You’re skin and bone.”
“You said I was fat,” I bleated.
“I loved you chubby. You felt like…another country when I held you at night.”
“Another country? Is that supposed to be flattering? Was I that huge?”
“No, you stupid man. You were my safe harbour. You were all that and a piece of toast.
You took that away from me. I thought…I thought if I fed you, if I loved you enough, I could
fill you up.”
I stared at him. Had I really been so obsessed with being fat that I never saw how hard
he tried to make me feel full? I did enjoy his cooking, but to my mind, his constant scrutiny
had felt judgemental. I realised then he’d been as obsessed with food as I was. The celebrated
chef had taken my hesitation to eat his cooking as a rejection.
“Can you give me a second chance?” I asked.
“I don’t know…you’re still not happy.”
“For fuck’s sake, Diego. I woke up two days ago a hundred pounds lighter. It just
happened. Give me a chance. Please.”
He stared at me. “Now you’re scaring me.”
“It’s a long story, but I swear it’s true.”
Diego’s eyes took on a strange, hunted expression I’d never seen before. Oh, Lord, he
thought I’d snapped my cap.
“I gotta go,” he said.
“Can I call you?”
“I’ll call you.” He left…no, more accurately, he fled.
Unable to sleep or, even worse, sit still, I spent a long night finally going through my
closet, bagging stuff to toss and other things to donate to Goodwill. I thought about him
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nonstop and called an emergency florist—yes, you can find such a thing online—and sent
Diego a bunch of roses. Red. For love.
I returned to my task. It felt strange throwing away clothes I’d held onto for so long,
including what had once been my skinny jeans. I was appalled to see how many things really
required dumping. I shook my head. I vacuumed and dusted, hoping James wouldn’t go
crazy that I was making noise at four a.m. At last, my closet was clean and I had some nice
new threads hanging in it. It needed filling and so, apparently, did I.
* * * *
Sleep came to me at five, but when I awoke only two hours later to the clock radio I felt
energised. I weighed myself. Half a pound lighter. I probably hadn’t been this slim since
kindergarten. I did feel good about the slight drop. I’d eaten pretty well the day before, but I
knew I’d still eaten less than I normally do—a lot less, now that I thought about it. What
would I do with all my free time now that I wasn’t planning my day around keeping
something in my mouth at all times? I brewed some coffee and made a list.
1. Win back Diego. Invite him to dinner. Or will that offend him? Will he think I prefer someone
else’s cooking?
2. Figure out who to pay the Full gift forward to…thinking Norma.
3. Pursue other goals. Take the AFI course in directing I’ve been drooling over.
4. Sit down and talk to Cyan. Make her see sense.
5. Patch things up with Caedon. I still need work from him.
6. Win back Diego. (See above)
I was happy with my list. I had some solid goals, none of which included driving
through Taco Bell or taste-testing all the new ice cream flavours at Baskin Robbins. Pursuing
film directing had been a secret passion, but my weight had kept me from doing just about
everything.
I’ve had a successful career, but it’s not like I come home and study or really have
passion for my work. Not like Diego. I hide behind a microphone and I have to admit, I’ve
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been damned lucky. Anyway, how passionate can you be about making baby noises or
barking like a dog?
I wasn’t looking my gift horses in their mouths, but I needed more. I needed creative
passion. I needed to feel in control.
My first cup of coffee was pretty damned good. I re-read the list. I would start today. I’d
get rid of the clothes, then go online and look into the film studies. I debated pouring a
second cup of coffee and opted to shower instead. It was a damned good thing, too. As I
came out of the shower, ready to claim my second brew, I pondered actually doing so naked.
I never strutted around naked, but now that I had this hot new bod I wanted to enjoy the rare
thrill of no spare tyre…or three.
There was a knock at the door.
“Barney!”
My heart began fluttering and flittering, doing crazy, happy things in my chest.
“Diego?” I opened the door without thinking and he sobbed as he took in my
nakedness and the giddy look on my face.
“Get in here!” I pulled him to me. We began mauling each other, Diego’s hand going
straight to my cock.
He fell to his knees, sucking me in an instant. Aw, heck I’d missed this guy. I couldn’t
reach anything but his hair, and I wanted him naked. Now. He took his time, however,
running my cock head against his lips, grazing it gently across his teeth so that it awakened
long-dormant desire within me. His gaze flew up to mine, fever igniting us both. His tongue
came out to catch my cock and he sucked.
Oh, he was a hot man. I yanked him to his feet as he took a breath.
“Hey,” he protested. “I was enjoying that.”
“Enjoy this.” I unbuttoned his vintage Levi’s and felt the hard ridge. Hard, just for me.
He let out a moan as I pulled down his jeans, liberating his cock from the tiny Italian
underpants I so adored. Normally, I’d take my time sucking his cock through the stretch
fabric because I know it drives him wild, but it had been too long.
He was my oasis. I needed that drink. And fast.
He moved his hips, letting my mouth strum the length of his huge cock. It was massive.
I’d forgotten how big it was. I took my time adjusting to its thickness as I sucked.
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“Tsk…oh…”
I reached up and started flipping open buttons on his shirt, Diego completing the task
for me. I touched his nipples. I needed to taste them again. As I stood, our cocks collided and
Diego grabbed them with both hands. We were so hungry for each other. We made senseless
noises, half-bitten words that had no meaning except in the heat of passion.
He held our cocks in his hand, cuffing them together as I bent my head and licked one
of his nipples then the other. He lifted my chin with his free hand and kissed me, his
delicious tongue darting into my mouth. He tasted of anise. He still used the same
toothpaste.
I kissed him back with all the need I had. He pushed me onto the bed. I wanted him so
much, I begged him for his cock.
“I’ll fuck you, baby, I promise.”
“Now, please.”
“You got rubbers?”
I shook my head. “It’s been a long time.”
“Lucky for you I came prepared.”
“Yeah. Lucky me.”
He inched down his jeans and underpants completely, kicking off his shoes and tossing
his clothes aside. I put my hands on his chest, loving the feel of his smooth, satiny skin and
fine dusting of chest hair. His rigid cock poked at my belly. I pushed him back as he opened
a foil square. I lapped at his cock.
“Tsk,” he said again. I’d missed that crazy sound he always made when he was
aroused. I sucked his entire length into my throat, Diego going berserk as he knelt on the bed
beside me. He kept trying to touch my cock but I was busy.
“Oh, no,” he said, suddenly, the only succinct statement he’d made since we’d started
touching each other. “You are going to come with my cock in your ass, where it belongs.”
I nodded, unable to speak. When he pushed me onto my back, threw open my legs and
began sucking my balls and ass, my whole body lifted off the bed. My silent mantra of please,
please echoed in every cell of my body. He tortured me with his tongue, rolled the lubed
condom over his cock and—gazing deeply into my eyes—poised at my hole.
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He eased into me until I grabbed his hips and held on to his taut ass cheeks. He got the
message. Fuck me. Now. He tore into me, my body trembling with pain that I knew would
soon ease into pleasure. I hadn’t been fucked in eight months and it hurt. He slowed down—
taking his time, making sure I was okay. I was sure he could tell I hadn’t been with anyone
else. When he realised I was enjoying myself, that my body had recovered from the shock, he
began to fuck me with assured, possessive strokes. Fireworks popped in my brain and I was
speaking in single syllables again.
“Oh, fuck, baby, you’re…” His mouth fell open. We clutched and grabbed one another,
Diego grunting as he reached between us to grip my cock between our sweaty bodies as he
fucked me to a frenzy. His orgasm touched off my own. He braced himself on one elbow. His
mouth tickled my ear, gracing my soul.
“Mine,” he said. Boy, he got that right.
For long moments, we lay in bed, legs entwined, our hearts racing.
“I have to take something back that I said,” he whispered, kissing me.
“Just one thing?”
“Shut up.” His bruised-looking lips migrated over my face and throat. “I was wrong.
You still feel like you. I can get closer to you now.”
I grinned. “Yeah. How about that?”
We swapped a few more kisses, then: “Diego, aren’t you supposed to be shopping?”
“Yeah. But you’re more important than some flowers on a table.”
“How sweet.” As far as I could recall, in our year-long courtship, he’d never skipped a
flower market day.
“I sent Sophia. She thanks you for getting her out of the kitchen.”
“My pleasure.”
He kept kissing me, his hand moving back to my cock.
“Come for dinner tonight,” he said as he pressed hot kisses from my chin all the way
down my body. “I’ll cook.” He kissed my treasure trail, my cock already standing at
attention.
“Whatever you want.” Kiss, kiss. His mouth roamed the sensitive skin between my
pubic hair and the base of my cock. He’d discovered this particular point of frenzy our first
night together and seemed to delight in driving me wild with long, lingering licks. He once
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made me come just from licking it. I wouldn’t have minded him doing that again, except he
took pity on my aching cock and swabbed it with his eager tongue.
He took his mouth off me. “Will you come?”
“Yes!” I shrieked.
“And you’ll come to dinner?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Please. Suck me.”
“What do you want me to cook for you, baby?”
Was he kidding me? I tried to focus as his mouth engulfed me once again. My cock slid
down his throat. Nobody had ever deep-throated me the way he did. I beat my feet against
the bed as he closed his eyes, his fingers gently squeezing and rubbing fresh life into my
cock.
He came off me again. “Well?”
“Vatapá,” I said.
“Fish stew? Really?”
“Really. It was the last thing you made for me and I never got to finish it. I want plenty
of coconut milk in it, too, please.”
He stared at me, his eyes glowing. “I’ll make it up to you. As soon the restaurant closes,
I’m gonna feed you with my fingers. I’m gonna fuck you on the kitchen floor.”
“Promises, promises.”
He grinned and went back to his task. I cried out as his mouth tightened around my
shaft. He sucked and pulled on me until I was almost there.
“I want you to come with my cock inside you,” he commanded. I nodded. I needed
him, too. He was already hard as I rolled the new rubber over his glistening cock head and
down his smooth shaft. I wanted it back in me.
“Fuck me, Diego.”
He got bossy then, hovering between my legs as I lay on my back, anxious to get his
length inside me, his full weight on top of me, claiming me, owning me.
When he sliced into me, the sensation overtook me, the fire pit in my belly spiralling. I
couldn’t speak as the pleasure pain soared through me. Diego fucked me relentlessly, my
knees pinned to my chest as he took me, dragging me to new heights. I came hard, feeling his
own orgasm deep within me. Even with the rubber, I could feel him coming.
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We kissed for several minutes until we’d both calmed down. I hated when he pulled
out of me.
“I don’t only love you when I’m in you,” he assured me.
We walked off to shower together. Afterwards, in the kitchen, we shared the coffee left
in the pot. As he sipped at his cup, he picked up my to-do list from the dining table. I saw his
smug smile.
“So it begins and ends with me, does it?” His tone was sweet…awed.
“It always has.”
Emotion crossed his exquisite features. “What’s this pay it forward thing?”
“One day I’ll explain it to you.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He dropped the list back on the dining table, reaching for me
with his free hand. “I love you. I promise to do better this time. I promise not to judge you or
call you names. I promise to love you and make you happier than you ever dreamt possible.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” I kissed him.
“What are you going to do today?” he asked, between kisses.
“You might find this weird, but I feel a strong urge to go to a Weight Watchers
meeting.”
“I’m proud of you. I think it’s a great idea. Sweetie…you can eat anything you want,
right? In moderation?”
“Absolutely.”
That made him happy, I could tell. My cell phone rang. It was Jaxon. He sounded
blissfully happy.
“Caedon invited me to the studio. He wants us both to record some voices this
afternoon.”
“Sure,” I said as Diego smothered me with kisses. He told me to invite the happy
couple to dinner at the restaurant. Already things were different. In the old days, I had often
sat alone. At least now I’d have company. Jaxon loved the idea and we agreed to meet at the
studio at two.
As we walked up the stairs hand in hand, my sweetheart kissed me.
“You’re walking funny. You okay?”
“Never felt better.” And it was the truth.
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* * * *
I arrived at the meeting in Studio City right on time. The Weight Watchers staff were
stunned by my stupendous weight loss. They kept telling me it was a mistake, but of course,
it wasn’t.
In the meeting room, I found Scott Salem, the guy I’d met with Jaxon and Caedon at
The Village Coffee Shop.
“Hi there,” he said, his tone gloomy. “I’ve put on two pounds.”
“It happens,” I said. “Say, maybe we could start walking together in the mornings?”
“I’d love that!” His face lit up. My cell phone rang. A text from Norma. Nine-one-one.
Oh, heck. I called her right back. She sounded awful. I knew right away the conversation
would not be brief and moved outside so I wouldn’t disrupt the meeting when it started. It
took me a few minutes to get her to calm down.
“Cyan booked me an appointment with her plastic surgeon. They want to do horrible
things to me.” Her breath sounded wheezy.
“What things?”
“Liposuction. A tummy tuck. Breast reduction. An ass lift. I—”
“You don’t have to do those things,” I assured her.
“I’m in his office. He wants to admit me right away! I’m scared, Barney.”
“Stay right there,” I yelled, getting the address for the doctor’s office. I couldn’t believe
she’d driven all the way to LA and hadn’t told me. I went back to the meeting briefly, giving
Scott my card. He smiled and nodded. Thank God the plastic surgeon’s office was only two
miles away in Sherman Oaks. As I drove, my cell phone rang.
“Mr Calloway?”
“Yes.” I’d heard the voice only once, but once was enough. It was the woman from Full.
“You will be required within exactly seven days from today to nominate another
individual requiring our services. Failure to do so will result in you putting on weight for
every day you are late.”
Putting on weight? Oh, hell no.
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“I can already tell you who,” I said, pulling over to the kerb. “I’ve been thinking about
it. I thought maybe Scott, but I can help him with walks and a few pep talks. Then I thought
about my brother, but a gift like this would be wasted on him right now.
“So, I’d like to nominate my mother, Norma Calloway. You see, I’ve been thinking
about it. I can help her. And together, we can help Ricky. She’s a wonderful woman and—”
“Your order has been processed.” Click. No goodbye. No nothin’.
What the fuck ever.
I found parking on Addison in record time and rushed into the medical building on
Van Nuys Boulevard. My silly, sweet, addled sister was brow-beating poor Norma, who did
not want plastic surgery.
When my stepmother opened her robe and showed me the doctor’s felt-tip swirls all
over her body, I understood her anguish. And her fear. It looked like he’d be removing half
of her body. No, it was a bad idea.
“Do you trust me?” I asked Norma.
She looked to the left, looked to the right, then her gaze landed on my face. “I trust you
more than Cyan.”
“Something huge is about to happen to you, and I will be there to help you. Trust me,
you don’t need surgery.”
“What’s going to happen?” She looked spooked, her eyes widening.
“Nothing bad,” I assured her. She gave me an appraising look.
“Okay. Do you think they’ll let me shower and get this stuff off me?”
“Come to my house and get cleaned up.”
“Groovy,” she said. “I’m so happy!” She hugged me tight. Out in the waiting room, my
sister was white as a sheet.
“Keith just dumped me. He said I’m high maintenance. Me! Can you imagine?”
“No, I can’t at all,” Norma said, patting her arm.
“Thank you,” my sister said, looking mollified. Her cell phone rang. “Oh, jeez. It’s
Hugo. I was such a bitch to him this morning.” She took the call, her face softening. “A
second honeymoon? In Paris? Oh sweetie, can we afford it?”
Her face came alive, and I wished I could have high-fived Hugo for his brilliant timing
and tactical ingenuity. I predicted a lot of love and sex in Cyan’s immediate future.
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I linked my arm through Norma’s and we walked outside.
She hugged me. “I know I’m not your Mom, but I do love you, Barney.”
“I love you, too. You’re not my born Mom, but you’re my real Mom.”
There. It was hard to say it, but I said it and I meant it. I would never stop loving my
mother, but I had to let go of misery, grief and despair. I had to stop believing she left me
because she didn’t love me enough or because I wasn’t good enough. I wondered if she
missed me as much as I missed her.
Norma held me in her arms for a moment, then got into her car and followed me home.
Diego called as she was showering. I loved hearing the anxiety in his voice.
“Can you come sooner than tonight? I miss your face.”
“My mom’s here. Can I bring her by for cake and coffee?”
“Cake and…” He sounded shocked. “Of course you can bring her. I’d love to see her.”
Norma came out of the shower looking better. I told her we were going to Diego’s
restaurant and she looked ecstatic.
“You patched things up? Oh, I’m so pleased.” She hugged me tight. “No wonder you
look so serene.”
Outside the house, she found a business card on her windshield.
Wow, that was fast.
I watched her turn it over and over in her hands, perplexed. I knew in spite of
everything, she would call the number on the back as soon as she was alone.
She got into her car and I was about to get into mine when I saw James and Shao-Ying
coming down the hill towards me.
“Hey,” he said, “you look amazing.”
Shao kept pawing at me, so I bent and kissed her furry head.
“How you doin’?” James asked. He flicked a glance over at Norma. “Listen, I wanna
thank you for everything you’ve been doing for me and Shao. It’s way above and beyond the
call of duty. So I’ve been thinking, next month’s rent is on me.”
“Oh, wow…thanks.” I bit off any protestations I had of rejecting his kind offer. I
remembered Jaxon’s words about accepting gifts from wherever and whenever they came.
James and I exchanged smiles. I hopped into the car and called Jaxon to beg off the
afternoon recording session. He didn’t seem to mind. I’d never turned down work before,
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but Diego was my everything. Jaxon said he and Caedon would meet me at the restaurant
later. I could hardly wait to see my lover again. I felt an inexplicable anxiety in the pit of my
belly all the way into Los Feliz and to his restaurant—Diego.
It hadn’t changed much. Not from the outside.
Mom and I got valet parking and hurried inside. I smelt cheese. I saw his face, the
anxiety etched in his features, and the way relief flooded his eyes. Then I saw the fine dusting
of flour across his nose. He ran to meet me wearing that kilowatt smile I’d fallen in love with,
all for me. The panic in my belly fled as he kissed me.
I finally got to lick the flour off his nose, just like I’d wanted to in my dream.
The bartender shanghaied Mom, offering her a cocktail, and Diego rushed me into the
kitchen. It was just like my dream. The sun streaming in, catching the last hurrah of late
afternoon. I saw the vase of sunflowers.
“They are so beautiful,” he said. “Thank you for sending them.”
“I sent roses.”
“But I got these. And I love them.”
We looked at each other and began to molest one another. We took off our clothes,
letting them fall to the ground. I heard the Andrews Sisters singing.
Yes, I would Hold Tight.
“Baby, we have to hurry,” he whispered into my mouth.
“Yes, I know. Eight minutes. You’re making bread for me.”
“How did you know?” His kisses stole my breath and my heart. We got naked, Diego
clutching my cock in his greedy hand.
He pushed me into the pantry at the sound of encroaching voices.
As he pressed me against the shelves stacked with rice and beans, I held on to the first
solid object I could find as he knelt before me and greeted my cock and balls with his tongue.
I heard two voices in the kitchen as I tamped down the crazy urge to shout my lover’s name.
Diego stood, his cock hard, his eyes filled with lust. For me. I turned around.
“Fuck me,” I whispered. He dropped down again, burying his face in my ass. He licked
and sucked my hole and quickly stood, his cock poking at me.
“No rubbers. There’s one in my pants pocket in the kitchen,” he whispered. “I’ll be right
back.”
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He took off and returned, running into my arms again. He smiled that smile that was
just for me. For the first time in my life—as Diego held and touched me, holding me close as
he drove his cock into me—I finally felt it.
I felt full.
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About the Author
A.J. Llewellyn is the author of over one hundred published gay erotic romance novels.
He lives in California, but dreams of living in Hawaii. Frequent trips to all the islands,
bags of Kona coffee in his fridge and a healthy collection of Hawaiian records keep
this writer refuelled. A.J. loves male/male erotica, and has a passion for all animals
(especially the dog, the cat and the turtle). A.J. believes that love is a song best sung
out loud.
A.J. Llewellyn loves to hear from readers. You can find his contact information,
website and author biography at
Also by A.J. Llewellyn
The Bouncer
The Mediator
Paper Valentine
Pearl Harbor: Vagabond Heart
Pearl Harbor: Gypsy Heart
Cloaks and Daggers: Stavros
Sins of Summer: Burnt Island
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AUTUMN QUEST
Serena Yates
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Dedication
To all those who have ever wondered “What if…?”
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Author’s Note
As an author, it is my job to wonder “What if…?” With this story, I took the concept a
little further than usual, resulting in a setting that can only be called ‘alternate history’.
I took the Mongol culture of about
AD
400 and asked, “What if…they had never been
defeated by the Chinese, and, later, by the Christians?” What sort of a society would
they have ended up with?
I have taken a lot of liberties in assuming what might have happened, especially in the
area of potential magic and wizardry. This last takes the story into the realms of
fantasy, but who knows what might have happened? The names and places I mention
are all based on Mongol culture, though. While you won’t need a glossary to
understand, here are a few examples:
Bayar: Joy
Chinux: Wolf
Khaganate: legendary empire of times past
Khanate: largest section left of the former empire
Naiman: common name of the Khanate
Naman: ruling royal family of the Khanate, name derived from the Khanate’s
name
Khan: nobleman in Mongol times; the king in this book
Qara: black
Playing with alternate history has been fun for me. I hope you will enjoy reading
about the results of my thought experiment as much as I loved coming up with it.
—Serena Yates
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Chapter One
“This can’t be right.” Bayar stared at the ragged piece of ancient parchment in his
hands. Faded ink markings indicated boundaries—the names of cities and villages more
legendary than a collection of wizard myths. “I thought the Khaganate was just a legend?”
He stroked the folds and creases, trying to flatten the map so he could make sense of
what he saw. The musty odour of ancient dust fluffing up from the mysterious document’s
wrinkles made his nose itch. It had been hidden at the back of one of the spell books he’d
recently discovered in the oldest section of the Naiman Royal Library. Small wonder no one
had come across it in living memory. Tradition limited the research of history and the Old
Magic to those of royal blood. Very few of his family members showed any interest in
understanding their past, so he was on his own.
If the landmarks he was familiar with were any indication, the Khaganate had been
even bigger than oral history hinted at. From the looks of it, the legendary empire that was
supposed to have existed before it broke apart into today’s smaller khanates and chiefdoms,
had stretched from sea to sea—as far north as the icy realm and farther south than any
caravan in living memory had dared to go.
“Vashir Khan requests your presence in the council room immediately, your highness.”
The palace guard’s voice shocked Bayar back into reality.
“What—my father wants to see me right now?” Bayar sighed, shoving his glasses back
up to the top of his nose. “I’m in the middle of something here.”
“Yes, your highness, right now.” The guard stood a respectful few paces away from the
large table Bayar was working at today. “The matter is quite urgent and, as you know, the
Khan does not like to be kept waiting.”
“Isn’t it always urgent?” Bayar shook his head as he carefully put the flattened piece of
parchment into a protective sleeve before sliding it into the folder containing his notes and
other research materials.
The guard remained unsmiling and quiet while Bayar dusted himself off, the dark
green of his velvet vest only slowly reappearing. He put his reading glasses into a pocket and
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grabbed his folder before following the impassive guard into the long, quiet corridors. Deep
carpets covered the cold stone floor and muffled the sounds of their booted steps.
“Finally!” His father’s voice boomed across the ancient council chamber adjacent to the
throne room. “Sit down so we can get to the bottom of this problem.”
What the hell was going on? Not only was the whole family present, but the two royal
councillors had also made an appearance. His mother puckered her brows in a very un-
queenly scowl. Both of his elder brothers looked angry, and his younger sister wrung her
hands. Bayar quietly joined them, focusing on keeping his hands from visibly shaking with
nerves. He much preferred the company of his books to that of people…even his family. He
grimaced. Especially his family.
“I have some very bad news to share.” His father raked the bushy white hair that made
him look far older than his fifty-five years. “The confounded parchment thief managed to get
into the Royal Library last night.”
Bayar suddenly felt ice cold. The unthinkable had finally happened and the royal
defences had been breached. Whoever this thief was, he clearly had no respect for their
traditions. Damnation! He looked around. Everyone in the room seemed to share his shock, if
all the dropped jaws and horrified looks were any indication. The majority might be more
worried about the potential political implications than the threat of ancient knowledge being
lost to the hands of incompetent ruffians, but their fears were just as real as his concerns.
“As usual, he’s left a disgusting piece of rotten fruit to ‘replace’ the stolen book, so we
know it was him. Differently from usual, there was also a note.” His father frowned. “The
content was slightly puzzling but made it clear this thievery is part of a bigger campaign,
possibly directed at destabilising the government.”
“What did it say?” Bayar leant forwards, not wanting to miss potentially revealing
information.
“Autumn is not only the season of harvests. It is also the precursor for winter, the season of
death.” His father straightened his golden vest, a sign that he was ready to go on the
offensive. “The arrogance of stealing an irreplaceable historical book from right under our
noses just galls me! Together with this note, delivered on the first day of autumn, the act is a
clear threat against the royal family, possibly the entire government. That is unacceptable. He
has got to be stopped.”
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“But how did he get in? The palace is one of the most closely guarded places in
Naiman! And the library was supposed to have been under special protection.” Bayar
frowned. The mysterious parchment thief had been stealing historical records and maps all
over Naiman—the largest, richest khanate—ever since the beginning of the year. None of
those thefts had been taken seriously because all known documents had a master copy in the
Royal Library. “Where were all the guards when this happened?”
“That’s an excellent question.” His father nodded. “Guard Captain Yerevan, to my
disgust, wasn’t able to answer it. None of the royal councillors have had anything sensible to
contribute so far, either. I have therefore decided that you’ll be in charge from now on.”
“Me?” Bayar felt his stomach sink. “But I’m not a warrior.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.” Neganjin snorted.
“Careful.” Their father glowered at his eldest son. “You may be the crown prince but
you haven’t got half the intelligence your youngest brother has. What we need is someone
with a brain, not a warrior.”
“I still say we lay a trap and let him slip up.” Neganjin looked at the others as if to find
support. Nobody looked back at him.
“That’s exactly what we’ve tried so far…without any success. So we will now use
different tactics.” Their father leant back in his ornate wooden chair.
“I really don’t think I’m the right person to catch this thief.” Bayar shook his head for
emphasis. He was a scholar, and damned good at what he did. Catching a thief was not
within his area of expertise. Failure was clearly not an option, but he wasn’t good at working
under pressure. More than enough reason to stay the hell away from this assignment.
“He’s right.” Neganjin shifted in his seat. “How can you expect someone who forgets
what time of day it is and can’t even find his own glasses half the time to go out there and be
successful where more qualified people have failed for so long?”
Bayar blushed. Even though his brother was right, he hated having a memory worse
than a sieve for anything that wasn’t data or spell related. And apparently nobody had
forgotten it, even though he’d practically lived inside the Royal Library for four years now,
ever since his eighteenth birthday. It was clearly all they cared to know about him.
“Whether or not you’re the right person isn’t for you to say, Bayar.” His father grinned
at him. “My mind is made up. However, I do think it will be helpful for you to have a
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professional hunter and tracker at your side to support your efforts. So, Yerevan has come up
with some suggestions for who should work with you.”
Oh, great. Nobody believed him competent so he was going to have a guardian.
Probably some fool too stupid to write his own name and with muscles coming out of his
ears.
Yerevan stood and walked to the door once Vashir Khan nodded.
Two men walked in. The first looked as tall as he was wide and seemed to consist of
nothing but muscles and scars. His eyes were dark and his lips turned down into a scowl of
disapproval. Armed with several knives and dressed in black leather, he looked as
dangerous as any criminal he might try to capture. Not someone Bayar was inclined to
entrust with his life and well-being.
“This is Fesgul.” Yerevan pointed to his right and Fesgul stood there, straight and still
as a statue. “He’s one of the most successful bounty hunters in all of Naiman. Last year he
caught more than twice the thugs his closest competitor was able to apprehend.”
Bayar hated him already.
The second man who’d walked in took Bayar’s breath away. He was at least six and a
half feet tall with wide shoulders and skin the colour of milk chocolate. His hair was short
and curly, black like a raven’s. Deep brown eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief and a scar
on his left cheek gave him the appearance of a rogue. A square jaw and slightly crooked nose
completed his rugged appeal.
“This is Chinux.” Yerevan pointed to his left but Chinux didn’t stand where indicated.
He continued on towards Bayar and stopped mere feet away. “He’s the most successful
bounty hunter we could find, but difficult to control.”
Chinux snorted, his full red lips quirking into a disapproving sneer.
Bayar wasn’t sure whether to feel intimidated or amused. Chinux had already shown
more spirit than most in the presence of their king. The man was clearly his own master, not
willing to bow to another’s request for obedience.
“The final decision is yours, your majesty.” Yerevan stepped back, as if to absolve
himself of all responsibility.
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“Well, we know that Chinux is the better bounty hunter, especially in more complex
cases.” Bayar’s father scratched his beard. “But I’m afraid that a disobedient rebel like him
won’t be very useful here.”
What? Bayar wasn’t about to go on a wild goose chase with the compliant guy. Someone
who could follow orders was far less likely to be capable of thinking himself out of a difficult
situation. He’d contribute nothing but muscle to the quest and Bayar was already pretty sure
they’d need more than that. He was able to think logically and knew his history, but strategic
thinking and fighting tactics weren’t his strengths.
Chinux, disobedient and ‘difficult to control’ though he might be, looked more like
someone able to get them out of danger. A rebel was surely used to thinking outside the box.
The man looked like he was about to explode at the Khan’s words but bit his lip and stayed
quiet. Interesting.
“So I recommend you work with Fesgul.” His father looked at Bayar, expecting him to
meekly follow the suggestion.
“I’m sorry, Father, but I can’t do that.” Bayar took a deep breath, ignoring his family’s
surprised stares. Chinux looked as shocked as everyone else. “I’ll need all the help I can get
to make this work. From what you said, Chinux is more experienced with difficult cases.
Finding this parchment thief is nothing if not complicated, so my choice is Chinux.”
Something like respect in the other man’s eyes encouraged Bayar to stick with his
decision, despite all the protests. In the end, his father didn’t have a choice. He had put Bayar
in charge and, luckily, shied away from undermining him. Bayar could only hope that his
instincts about Chinux were right. As hard as it was to admit that he couldn’t do this on his
own, the unfortunate truth was that he just didn’t have it in him.
* * * *
Chinux followed Bayar and the guard assigned to showing them the scene of the crime
along the dark corridors of the huge Royal Palace. The prince was not small at six foot or so
and had a lean build that was accentuated nicely by the body-hugging black leggings and
forest-green vest he wore. His blond, shoulder-length hair was curly and tied back in a low
ponytail by a dark green velvet band. Bayar’s white skin was such a contrast to Chinux’s
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own brown that his fingers itched to touch and stroke the man all over…just to make sure it
was as soft and smooth as it looked.
Whoa, don’t go there. That was the surest road to disaster. He wasn’t good enough for a
royal prince and if the Khan found out he was after his youngest son Chinux’s very life
might be in danger.
Then there was Bayar himself. Would he be interested? His glances seemed to indicate a
certain awareness, but that might just be curiosity about the man he’d been told to work
with. Those looks alone were no reason to start hoping for more, as tempting as that was.
Chinux pulled himself together. He was here to do a job. If all went well, the huge reward
he’d earn for catching the notorious thief would give him enough money to retire. He hadn’t
spent the last ten years of his life fighting his way out of poverty to lose it all because of a
sudden attack of lust.
“This is where the stolen book was located.” The guard pointed at some shelves
towards the edge of the alcove they were standing in front of, then retreated to the door.
Bayar stared at the gap in the row of books with unflinching intensity. Was he trying to
find clues to the thief’s identity?
“Nothing else was taken, right?” Chinux suspected someone had done a thorough
search to make sure.
“Apparently not.” Bayar turned his head towards Chinux. The prince’s dark violet eyes
were focused and angry. “But one book or scroll being stolen is already one too many. The
fact that it’s irreplaceable just makes it even worse.”
“What about this threat he added via the note?” Chinux looked around while he waited
for an answer. There was a window high up on the wall but no other outside access.
“That just adds a political angle to the situation.” Bayar’s white cheeks flushed an
interesting tone of red, adding colour to the high cheekbones. “Knowledge being stolen is
just wrong.”
“Do you think the thief is after anything specific—politically or otherwise?” Chinux
walked to the wall and stood under the window. There were no traces of someone having
climbed down the wall. “And while we’re at it, do you have a theory about how he got in?”
“It looks to me as though he’s trying to erase Naiman’s understanding of the past. All
the documents that vanished so far were related to our history in some way. I also think that
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he’s not working alone. Too many of the thefts happened simultaneously or in places too far
distant from each other.” Bayar frowned. “And in this case there weren’t even any signs of a
break-in, so I think whoever did it must have had help from the inside.”
“I agree.” He nodded. “Has anyone thought to interview the guards?”
“None of them admitted anything.” Bayar sat down on one of the benches along the
large tables in the centre of the room. “But then, why would they?”
“Why indeed.” Chinux sat down next to the fascinating man, admiring his high
forehead and the chiselled chin and jaw. His scent held traces of lemon and musk and the
scrolls he spent his time with. Gods, he wanted to sink his hands into that luscious hair and
kiss him breathless.
“So, what do you suggest?” Bayar shifted away from him.
What the hell? Was he that unattractive? Or was the prince just not interested in a
common man like himself? He knew he was no prize, living from day to day, hoping to save
enough money to buy back his mother’s estate. He’d been kicked out of his home by a cruel
stepfather for showing interest in his male childhood friend. But he hadn’t turned to crime,
instead making it his vocation to catch criminals for the rewards usually promised upon their
capture. That should count for something, right?
He sighed. Perhaps not in the eyes of a royal prince.
Anyway, he was here to do a job, one he was damned good at. He needed the money,
and the reward for catching this notorious parchment thief, or whoever was behind the
thefts, was more than substantial. Falling for a prince, as handsome as he might be, was not
part of the plan. He’d better remember that and focus on the task at hand.
“Chinux?” Bayar looked at him with those intense violet eyes, some inner fire making
them come alive.
“Yeah, I’m listening.” Chinux shook himself. It was time he returned to reality. “I think
that your brother’s idea of a trap was basically a good one. Except we have to be clever about
it so we can catch the thief at the time he commits the crime.”
“Okay, so how do you propose to do this?” Bayar looked adorably lost as he raked his
long hair.
* * * *
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A few hours later, Chinux watched Bayar, his eyes inexplicably drawn to the other man
as they hid under one of the tables in the centre of the huge library. Nobody knew they were
here and the only reason they hadn’t been discovered by the guards locking up for the night
had been Bayar’s knowledge of the layout and best places to hide.
It was just after midnight and Bayar had finally fallen asleep, curled up on the hard
floor with only Chinux’s woollen robe to protect him from the cold.
Nothing much had happened so far. A sudden soft scratching sound promised to
change that. Chinux held his breath as he listened to footsteps going in the direction of one of
the alcoves to their right. Putting one hand over Bayar’s mouth and holding his index finger
against his own lips to signal the need for silence, he softly nudged Bayar awake.
The dark violet eyes flew open and filled with panic for a few moments. Then they
cleared and Bayar nodded his understanding. Reluctantly withdrawing his hand from the
slightly stubbly skin, Chinux pointed in the direction of the suspicious sounds.
They rose quietly and tiptoed over. A darkly clothed man was bent over, leafing
through scrolls on the bottom shelf. Chinux grabbed him by the upper arms and pulled him
up, holding him tightly against his chest. The man struggled briefly but was unable to free
himself. Shit, was that a palace guard uniform he wore?
Bayar quickly lit a torch, and stuck it into a sconce on the wall.
“Who are you?” Chinux continued to hold the man while Bayar tied his wrists and
ankles with the rope they’d brought with them.
The man shook his head as Bayar finished tying the last knot. Chinux turned him
around to make him sit on a chair, then tied him to its legs and back just to be safe. The thief
didn’t look old enough to have left home and taken up a trade or profession, never mind
become a royal guard. As unlikely as it was that he was behind the thefts, he’d just become
the only clue they had.
“Okay, we can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way.” He tried to sound as
gruff as possible. “Tell us why you did this and we’ll recommend leniency. Or we can hand
you to the guards and they’ll torture the information out of you.”
Bayar’s eyes widened in shock but the man managed to stay quiet.
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Their young prisoner just shook his head, but he was trembling. His gaze darted
around the room, clearly looking for a way to escape. When he evidently realised there was
no way out, he slumped in his chair and dropped his head.
“He wants to make sure dangerous information isn’t spread.” The prisoner spoke
softly, in a shaky voice.
“Who does?” Chinux frowned, glaring at their prisoner threateningly.
“I can’t say.” The guard looked up at him, large brown eyes pleading for mercy. “He’ll
kill me if I tell you.”
“You’re Ganjur, aren’t you? You’re one of the library guards.” Bayar peered into the
man’s face. “I remember talking to you about your financial problems last week when you
started working here.”
The prisoner stiffened but remained quiet.
“Are you called Ganjur?” Chinux stepped closer.
“Y-yes.” Ganjur sniffled. “I just needed the money.”
“Right.” Chinux stepped back, pulled over another chair and sat down across from the
trembling guard. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“You really need to tell us who’s behind these thefts.” Bayar freed his long hair before
smoothing it with his fingers. Chinux wished he could bury his nose in the soft locks.
Focus on the task at hand!
“Look, I know that this is bad for you. But if you help us now, I promise to talk to the
Khan to try and make your punishment as light as possible.” Bayar smiled winningly.
“You would talk to the Khan for me?” Ganjur squinted up at Bayar. “Why would you
do that?”
“I hate the idea of someone stealing books and scrolls.” Bayar started pacing. He looked
kind of cute when he was upset—cheeks flushed red and eyes blazing. “It isn’t right to keep
the knowledge they contain away from people. So yes, if you help us catch the real thief, I’ll
be happy to talk to my father for you.”
“All right.” Ganjur sat up. “But you’re not going to believe me when I tell you.”
“Try me.” Bayar pulled himself up to his full height and pushed out his chest. Fierce
looked good on him, too.
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“The person who asked me to steal for him is Delgar.” Ganjur stared at Bayar,
obviously expecting some sort of reaction.
“Delgar?” Bayar’s eyebrows rose up his forehead. “No way!”
“It’s true.” Ganjur looked defiant.
“Who is this Delgar?” Chinux had never heard of him.
“Delgar…” Bayar stumbled and sat down hard. His face had turned ash grey. “Delgar
is my father’s younger half-brother. Apparently he was a notorious jewel thief and my father
wanted to avoid a scandal, so nobody ever found out it was him. He was banned from
Naiman about twenty years ago, but this makes it look like he’s back. If Delgar really is
behind the thefts, we’re in far more trouble than we thought. It means there’s a political angle
to the situation, and one that could upset the khanate’s entire power structure.”
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Chapter Two
Bayar followed Chinux into a different alcove so they could talk without Ganjur
overhearing. His heart was beating too fast. This was a lot more excitement than he was used
to in his quiet, withdrawn and very orderly life as a researcher. Granted, he joined his
brothers for training in sword fighting skills on a regular basis, but that was about technique
and building strength. There was no sense of adventure or excitement.
The news that Delgar was back in the picture had hit him hard. The laws on theft were
quite clear and very strict. If the royal family was implicated, even by a relative who wasn’t
in the direct line of succession, his father would no longer be Khan. They might not be
imprisoned, not having broken any laws themselves, but his life as he knew it would be over.
No more research.
“Bayar?” Chinux’s voice was deep and smooth, calling him back to the library and their
discovery of the thief’s identity. Thank God the man had called him by his name instead of
the stupid title of ‘your highness’ like most people. It made him feel human. “What do you
think Delgar is up to?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that out. He’s been so quiet for so long… Why would he
make an appearance now? The threat he sent via that note sounds like a warning…or maybe
blackmail, so perhaps he wants revenge. But how? If the Council of Ministers finds out he
was behind those thefts, my father will be dethroned. Delgar could be aiming for the throne
himself, but as a thief he will never make it…unless he believes my father would abdicate in
his favour, just to keep things quiet. But none of that makes any sense!”
Bayar closed his eyes for a moment. Chinux’s gorgeous face and body were too much of
a distraction. He’d never reacted to anyone as strongly as this—not that he’d even really had
the option, being focused enough on his research to lock himself away over the last few
years.
“That sounds like we need more information. Without knowing what he’s after, we
won’t know how to fight him.” Chinux drew his eyebrows together. “But for that we need to
find him first.”
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“Yeah, pretending we’re catching the thief will give us a nice excuse to go after him.”
Bayar frowned. “I have no idea whether he’ll tell us what’s going on, though.”
“Do you think Ganjur knows?” Chinux looked doubtful even as he spoke.
“I don’t think he does. Delgar is too clever to give his location away. I also don’t think
he’s anywhere in Naiman. He can’t risk getting caught. He’s bound to have a base
somewhere else.” Bayar sighed.
He didn’t want to have to ask for help. Usually his intellectual abilities were enough to
solve any issues he encountered. Unfortunately, intelligence alone wouldn’t get him very far
if they needed to chase a criminal. He didn’t want to leave the Royal Library, where he knew
his way around, but it looked like he’d have no choice. He also didn’t really want to reveal
his magical abilities…
The fact was that he needed Chinux to help him, so he’d just have to set his pride aside
and trust the man.
“A base outside Naiman might be a problem.” Chinux tilted his head. “I’m a tracker, so
I don’t doubt I can find him. But the farther away his hiding place is, the longer it will take
me. And we don’t have that much time before winter, which will make travelling very
difficult, if not impossible.”
“I may have a solution for finding him.” Bayar took a deep breath. “But nobody can
find out how I do it.”
“Huh? You don’t strike me as a tracker.” Chinux stared at him.
“Not like you.” Bayar grinned. At least the man hadn’t laughed. “But there are other
ways of doing this. We’ll need a quiet spot so I can work without interruptions.”
“I can’t wait to find out.” Chinux pointed towards where they’d left Ganjur tied to his
chair. “I assume you don’t want him around?”
“We’ll hand him to the guards.” Bayar walked over to their prisoner. “Listen, Ganjur,
you’ll have to be locked up for now. If you promise not to tell anyone about Delgar, I’ll make
sure you’re treated well until we capture him. Once we’ve done that, we’ll make sure your
punishment is light.”
“Are you joking?” Ganjur had gone even paler. “If Delgar finds out I told anyone, I’m a
dead man for sure. No way am I going to say anything.”
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* * * *
Once Ganjur was taken care of, setting Chinux up in his suite of rooms as a guest had
been easier than Bayar had expected. He’d never been happier to be a prince. Normally, he
avoided using his position to gain special treatment, but in this case he felt there was a real
reason for it. Speed was of the essence if they wanted to avoid further thefts, and who knew
what else Delgar might be planning?
There wasn’t much left of the night once they were done, but since they knew the next
few days were going to be strenuous, getting as much sleep as possible seemed like a good
idea. He’d wanted to crawl into bed with Chinux, which was utterly ridiculous. What was it
about this almost stranger that made him long to touch, to kiss…even to share a bed? He
didn’t even know the man!
When he opened his eyes to bright daylight, he made sure to stretch and shake himself
awake before he got up, trying to avoid his usual stumbling and running into things. He’d
been known to do that but it was suddenly important not to look like an idiot with Chinux
just the other side of the wooden wall that separated their sleeping chambers.
Once dressed, he walked into the main room of his suite, finding Chinux stretched out
before the fire. The man smiled at him and that warmed his heart. Not to mention other areas
of his body.
“You want some food? They even brought some tea for us.” Chinux pointed to a large
platter of bread, cheeses and some fruit that sat next to him on the low table.
“Great! I’m hungry.” Bayar took a seat, amazed that he really was hungry for once.
“Must be all the excitement.”
“You’re not hungry in the mornings?” Chinux started with some white bread, dipping
it into the honey provided for sweetening the tea.
“No, I’m not usually hungry first thing after sleeping. I guess my research is too
fascinating to waste time with eating.” Bayar went for some brown bread and cheese. “You
don’t like doing anything according to the rules, do you?”
“What? Why?” Chinux looked puzzled.
“The honey.” Bayar pointed. “It’s meant for sweetening the tea.”
“Oh yeah?” Chinux grinned and continued dipping. “You going to stop me?”
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“No way.” Bayar hadn’t had so much fun in ages. God, I need to get a life.
“Just checking.” Chinux leant back with an apple in his hand. “So, when are you going
to tell me how you intend to find Delgar?”
“It’s better if I show you. You might not believe me even if I do, but I’ll have to take my
chances.” Bayar quickly ate a few grapes.
“All right, surprise me.” Chinux bit into the apple, its juice escaping and running down
his chin. Bayar wanted to lick it off.
Shaking his head at himself, he got up to make his preparations. It didn’t really matter
where he worked—he just needed to be comfortable. He pulled up a chair and sat, before
lighting a candle and placing it on the big table. He retrieved the little spell book from the
satchel that was always attached to his belt. Quickly leafing through it to find the right
section, he fully opened it on the page for revealing spells.
“Magic?” Chinux’s brown eyes had grown big.
“Yeah.” Bayar was shaking with nerves. “I’ve never done this spell, though, so I’m not
sure it’ll work. And I should warn you that I usually get really tired afterwards. Magic can be
kind of…exhausting. So don’t worry if I look a little worn out, that’ll pass.”
“Wow, I didn’t know that anyone even still knew how to do magic.” Chinux pulled up
another chair and sat down opposite him. “It’s been outlawed for a while, hasn’t it?”
“Officially, yes.” Bayar swallowed. “Most of the records were burned in the Big
Cleansing over a hundred years ago. But a few bits of information survived, most of them in
the Royal Library, I suspect. It’s actually quite important you keep this a secret. If my father
or one of the councillors found out, not even my status as a prince would protect me.”
“No problem.” Chinux grinned. “You may have noticed that I have a few issues with
authority, so I certainly won’t tell anyone.”
“Let’s do this.” Bayar made sure he was comfortable and started breathing deeply. He
slowly relaxed into the calm place at his centre where the magic was strongest for him.
He blanked his mind as he stared into the candle’s flame, using it as a focal point for his
mental energies. When he was ready, he took a deep breath, turned his head so he could read
the text in the spell book and started reading the words in the ancient language. He made
sure to focus his energy, not just on the words, but on what it was he needed to find out. The
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room swam once he was done reading and he closed them, the better to see the vision that
rose before his inner eye.
A big, turreted castle made entirely of black crystal appeared first. Sharp edges and
shiny surfaces caused it to shimmer in the sunlight. High walls rose from sheer rock, making
entry impossible other than through the one visible entrance. It had a wide moat for
additional protection, and it didn’t look very inviting. The imposing building was
surrounded by dry, barren hills as far as the eye could see. Fumes rose from vents in the
ground and, other than some hissing, there wasn’t a sound.
‘Where?’ was his next thought.
His perspective started to change as he seemed to rise up, leaving the inhospitable
landscape behind. He rose and rose until the area looked like a map seen from above. It had a
striking similarity to the old map he’d found in the library just this afternoon. The whole area
was some colour between grey and black. He couldn’t be sure where it was because he didn’t
recognise any of the landmarks in their burnt, blackened state.
When he’d risen far enough above the ground, a name came to him. It was Qara, which
he knew was located on an island off the south-eastern coast, beyond the Stormy Sea. That
was where Delgar had hidden all these years?
The journey would be dangerous. Attempting it at this time of the year was practically
suicide. He was unlikely to get any support. One reason was that his father would want to
keep it quiet until they knew more about Delgar’s intentions. Then there was the fact that he
didn’t have any proof of the thief’s location. And he couldn’t use what he knew since it had
been obtained by questionable means.
“We’re in trouble.” Bayar willed the vision away and opened his eyes. “Delgar is pretty
far away, but we can’t tell anyone because it would reveal the fact that I’ve used magic.”
“We’re on our own then?” Chinux didn’t seem to be fazed in the least.
“Yeah.” Bayar sighed and slumped into his seat, his vision going first grey and then
black at the edges just before he lost consciousness.
* * * *
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Chinux hummed as he saddled his horse very early the next morning. He was ready to
leave the Royal Palace. The place was stuffy beyond belief, and the royals—other than
Bayar—weren’t the only ones with their stuck-up noses in the air. Even the servants were
arrogant. Bayar had been right when he’d said that they’d be on their own. Their quest
seemed rather hopeless at the moment, but at least they’d be doing something. Two men
travelling were less visible, needed fewer supplies and would be faster than a larger group.
Once Chinux had recovered from the shock of Bayar fainting on him, they’d gone to see
Vashir Khan and the captain of the guard. Since magic was forbidden and Ganjur wasn’t
talking, they couldn’t offer any proof for Delgar being behind the thefts. Predictably, they’d
been told to retrieve the stolen books and to tell Delgar that the thefts had to stop if he didn’t
want to face capture and punishment. Persuading him to stay away from Naiman so that the
royal family wouldn’t be implicated was a further requirement. How they achieved all that
was up to them. Essentially, they were now on a diplomatic mission.
“I don’t know if I can do this.” Bayar was in the next stall, struggling with the saddle
and tack for his horse.
“What…saddle your horse?” Chinux looked over the partition and tried very hard not
to smile at Bayar’s adorably clumsy attempts to get the saddle to stay on the horse’s back
until he’d cinched the straps.
“Yeah, that as well.” Bayar sighed and looked so sad that Chinux instantly felt sorry for
him. “I’m so useless at this. Maybe you should go without me. I’ll only hold you back.”
“Whoa, where did that come from?” Chinux stepped out of his stall, now that his horse
was ready, and into Bayar’s. “We wouldn’t even know where to go if it wasn’t for your
ability to do the revealing spell.”
“That’s different.” Bayar pressed his lips into a thin line, frustration oozing from his
lean body.
“How?” Chinux quietly put the saddle where it belonged.
“It doesn’t involve any of this…” Bayar made a vague gesture around them, “any of
this outdoors stuff.”
“That’s what you have me for, though.” Chinux finished with the saddle and tack and
stepped back. “Personally, I think we’ll make a great team.”
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“Really?” Bayar looked up at him, big eyes luminous in the half-shadows of the royal
stables. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
“What’s behind these sudden concerns?” Chinux wanted to hug the other man to make
him feel better. He just wasn’t sure if he’d be welcome.
“I just…” Bayar swallowed and looked at the floor. “I’ve never been outside the
palace…and I haven’t even spent much time outside the library in the last four years. I really
don’t know how to do any of this and…andI’mscared.”
That rushed statement brought all of Chinux’s protective instincts alive with a
vengeance. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out. He put his hand on Bayar’s shoulder
to offer support.
“That was a very courageous thing to say.” Chinux smiled.
“It was?” Bayar looked up, his eyes darker than normal—almost purple.
“Yeah. As long as we’re honest with each other we’ll be fine.” Chinux let his hand
linger a moment longer, not feeling any resistance from Bayar. “Now, let’s get the bags with
the supplies loaded and we can be on our way.”
“Okay.” Bayar still didn’t move.
The slight pressure against his hand told Chinux the other man was leaning into his
touch. Interesting. He let his hand wander towards Bayar’s neck, caressing the soft skin while
never losing eye contact. Bayar’s eyes were huge in the low light, but his smile said he liked
what he was feeling.
“We need to get going.” Chinux withdrew his hand.
“I know.” Bayar looked at the floor.
Chinux decided then and there he’d explore this attraction further at the next
opportunity. Hopefully they’d be in a less public place than the Royal Stables. He had a
feeling Bayar was open to experimenting.
The first breath of truly fresh air as they left, first the palace, then the city behind was
invigorating. The crisp morning air quickly gave way to the warmth of a beautiful autumn
day, and Chinux relaxed into the comfortable rhythm of his horse, following the road along
the Dalandzad river, leading them almost straight east.
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Only a few hours later, Chinux could see the toll the riding was taking on Bayar. They’d
made good progress, but it was time to stop for the night. Even if the stubborn prince
wouldn’t admit he was exhausted, Chinux could see it in the way he sat on his horse.
The small village just ahead might do. He kept his eyes open for any potential trouble
but everything seemed peaceful. There was an inn next to the road that led into the centre.
Perfect. He led their horses right up to the stable.
“We’re going to stop here for the night.” Chinux handed his reins to the stable boy,
ready to catch Bayar should he fall off his horse.
“What?” Bayar looked up, wincing in pain when he inadvertently shifted. “But it’s not
even close to sunset yet.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Chinux stood close to Bayar as the man dismounted. “I’m hungry
and you need a rest.”
Bayar sighed and nodded, practically fell off the horse then took his saddlebags before
following Chinux inside. The noise was deafening. Everyone in the smallish main room was
trying to speak at once, and some people were yelling to make themselves understood. The
air was heavy and smelt used up. Wooden tables bowed under the weight of tankards of ale.
The guests looked like they were trying to get drunk before the evening started. When
Chinux finally got the innkeeper’s attention, the news wasn’t what he’d expected.
“We’ve got a big wedding tomorrow so we’re almost full up. There’s only one room
left.” The innkeeper scratched his pot-belly, not looking very concerned or even apologetic.
“Are you going to take it or not?”
Chinux felt a shiver of anticipation travel down his spine. Sharing a bed with Bayar was
exactly what he wanted. A glance over at his travelling companion revealed a decided lack of
interest in his discussion about their sleeping arrangements. Bayar’s eyes were bulging as he
was watching the other guests. Chinux grinned and turned back towards the innkeeper.
“It’s not like we have a choice, so we’ll take it.” He paid the required two pieces of
silver and added a third. “We’d like a bath and some hot food brought up as soon as
possible, please.”
The innkeeper’s eyes grew big at the generous payment and he nodded, motioning a
young boy who looked to be his son to lead them upstairs. Chinux took the still-dazed Bayar
by an arm and followed the boy up the creaking wooden stairs. Their room was at the end of
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the corridor and larger than he’d expected. A duvet-covered bed dominated the room, a
small window provided a view of the main square, a stone fireplace was set in one wall and
the floor was covered by a big rug.
They had barely dropped their saddlebags when a knock on the door announced the
arrival of a big copper tub. It was quickly filled with hot water, carried upstairs by a
succession of boys and girls in their early teens. Once the tub was full and the food had been
delivered, Chinux locked the door and turned around.
“Okay, time for a bath.” Chinux smiled at Bayar’s slightly panicked expression. “Your
muscles are sore and the best cure is soaking them in warm water. I’ll rub them down with a
special ointment once you’re done.”
“You—what? I…” Bayar’s eyes were as big as saucers as he looked at him, then at the
tub and back at him.
“You want me to turn around?” Chinux grinned as Bayar nodded frantically. He gave
the other man some time to undress and slide into the water while he found the ointment
and got their soft breeches out. They’d use comfortable clothes for sleeping while they could.
While Bayar soaked, they ate the hearty stew from wooden bowls, cleaning them with thick
slices of bread when their spoons wouldn’t yield any more of the delicious substance.
When Bayar emerged from the suds, Chinux turned around and almost stopped
breathing. With just a towel around his slim hips, the other man looked good enough to eat.
Lean but toned and almost hairless, Bayar’s chest called out to him.
“Come here so I can give you a rubdown.” Chinux pointed at the bed where he’d
pulled back the duvet. Bayar lay on his stomach, hiding his blushing face in his arms.
Chinux warmed the ointment in his hands while he admired the strong back, especially
where it dipped just before the man’s muscled ass emerged. Taking a deep breath, he started
rubbing Bayar’s shoulders before slowly moving down his back. Soft moans made his cock
harden, but he controlled the urge to cuddle up to the smaller man. Bayar needed the
massage more than Chinux needed relief.
Deep breaths and soft snores told him Bayar was fast asleep before he’d even reached
the towel. Oh, well. It would be easier to resist temptation this way.
* * * *
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A week later, they’d settled into a comfortable travel routine. They’d caught a river boat
four days ago. It had taken them a long distance much more quickly than they could have
covered on horseback. They were about to enter the Misty Forest, their last hurdle before
reaching the Stormy Sea. Nobody was willing to take a boat through the dark and forbidding
forest, so they were on their own, once more on horseback. The old map Bayar had shown
him was their only guide.
Entering the Misty Forest was an experience Chinux wouldn’t soon forget. The trees
were taller than any he’d seen before. Majestic, thick trunks lined the half-overgrown path
they followed. Dark green leaves of all shapes and sizes, on the verge of starting to turn,
filtered the light, leaving them in semi-permanent darkness as they rode through the
scraggly underbrush. The smell of humid earth and decaying foliage created a unique
perfume that supported the visual impressions of ancient life and wisdom. If ever there’d be
a place for the magical creatures from the old legends to live, it would be here.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Bayar’s voice was low and almost reverent in the deep silence
that was only interrupted by the occasional buzzing of an insect or twittering of a bird.
“Yeah. I never knew a forest could feel so alive.” Chinux smiled. “I wouldn’t be
surprised in the least if a unicorn suddenly emerged from behind a tree or an elf came across
our path.”
Bayar laughed. It was a great sound and Chinux felt it slip inside him, all the way to his
heart. He really liked Bayar’s unique point of view, his quirky logic and quickly developing
sense of humour. Their shared sleeping arrangements didn’t hurt either.
After that first night, followed by waking up in each other’s arms the next morning,
they’d always shared a room. Even though the first few moments had been slightly
awkward, they’d both been comfortable enough with each other to make it a permanent
arrangement. He couldn’t believe his luck when Bayar said it was far more logical to share a
room than to pay for two separate ones. Who was he to argue with royal logic?
Bayar had blushed furiously the first few times they had woken up in a heap of tangled
arms and legs but hadn’t once shied away. The nightly rubdowns had evolved into mutual
massages that made both of them hard, but they hadn’t taken it further. Bayar was obviously
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a very sensual man, but Chinux sensed his reluctance. He’d decided not to push his luck and
let Bayar set the pace. For now.
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Chapter Three
Bayar followed Chinux blindly—as he had for the last three days of their trip through
the ancient forest—and not just because the other man was more experienced at finding a
path through the emerald darkness, either. He liked the way Chinux rode a horse. His strong
thighs tightly pressed the horse’s flanks, and his narrow hips swayed with the big animal’s
movements. The strong back he felt under his hands every evening during their massage
sessions looked good enough to lick.
Bayar sighed quietly. He wished he had the courage to do more than just sleep in
Chinux’s arms. They’d fallen into such a comfortable routine, though, and he didn’t want to
mess with that—didn’t want to risk losing the growing friendship and closeness.
Suddenly Chinux stopped…right in the middle of the path. He cocked his head as if
listening for something. Bayar followed his lead and opened his ears. The silence around
them had deepened. There wasn’t a single sound aside from his breathing, the horses’ soft
snorting and the swishing of their tails. No insects were buzzing around, not even one of the
annoying mosquitoes. No bird song rose to the heavens. Even the underbrush, normally
alive with small animals rushing around to collect seeds and nuts for the approaching
winter, was suspiciously quiet.
“Chinux?” Bayar’s heart beat faster with the sudden fear.
“Shh.” Chinux motioned for him to come closer. “I think someone or something is
coming towards us.”
Bayar moved his horse next to Chinux’s and looked around, trying to determine what it
was that had made everything go quiet.
A thick fog emerged from between the trees, undulating between the trunks. It moved
as though it was a person, but its shape and consistency was that of a cloud. The closer it
came, the colder Bayar felt. Was this what the old legends referred to as a mist demon? If it
was, there wouldn’t be any point in trying to run from it.
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“If this is what I think it is, we need to find out what it wants.” Bayar never looked
away from the swirling mass of white gaseous substance. “If we don’t give it what it’s
looking for, it’ll make us vanish.”
“Vanish?” Chinux’s voice sounded strained as he looked at Bayar. “What the hell is that
thing in the first place?”
“I think it’s a mist demon. I didn’t even know they still existed.” Bayar wished he was
at home, safely tucked away in the library. Facing something in reality, rather than reading
about it in a book, was far too scary for his tastes.
“What do we do?” Chinux didn’t move, just stared at the white cloud-being as it
approached, then stopped before them.
“We wait for it to speak.” Bayar knew the theory, but doing what he knew was right
was much harder than he’d thought. The urge to run was insanely strong.
“Ssstrangersss.” The voice sounded like wind rustling through leaves. It was hard to
understand, even in the deadly quiet of the forest. “You have interrupted my sssleep.”
“We are very sorry.” Bayar figured being polite was always right. “We didn’t mean to
do that.”
“That doesss not matter. I am awake now.” The swirly mist moved impossibly closer.
It was now close enough that Bayar felt the icy cold emanating from the strange body
penetrate his clothing. Goosebumps spread from his neck down his spine and along his
arms. He shivered as he realised he’d been staring into the spinning fog as if hypnotised. It
would be so easy to lose himself in the strange patterns.
“What are you looking fffor?”
“We’re on a quest to find an evil man who threatens our way of life.” Bayar hoped the
being could understand at least some of what he was saying.
“You are knightsss?” The mist started swirling more quickly.
“Close enough, I guess.” Bayar smiled. He’d never have called himself that, but they
were on a quest after all.
“Do you know what the tarifff isss fffor me to let you passs?” The mist thickened.
“I’m sorry, we don’t know.” Bayar held his breath, hoping it was something they could
survive without. The stories he’d read about people vanishing after running into a mist
demon were not encouraging.
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“I require your horsssesss.” The mist demon was beginning to take a more manlike
shape. “My unicornsss are lonely.”
“Unicorns? They really exist?” Chinux’s eyes went big and he looked around as if he
expected the legendary beasts to appear any moment.
“Of courssse they are real.” The mist demon rose a few inches above the ground,
managing to look threatening at the same time. “And they need companionsss.”
“We can’t just…” Chinux stopped mid-word when Bayar glared at him.
“Of course we can. We have no choice. It’s better than the alternative, believe me.”
Bayar didn’t really want to spend the rest of his life roaming the Misty Forest as a zombie lost
between the trees, never able to leave. At least that’s what the legends said happened to those
who’d never returned. How the people who told them knew was anybody’s guess.
“I’ll take your word for it.” Chinux frowned at him as he got off his horse. “But I’ll
expect an explanation. I want to know why we’re going to spend the next week or so trying
to walk out of here.”
They took their saddlebags, unsaddled the horses and pushed them towards the mist
demon. The horses didn’t seem afraid at all.
“You may passs.” The mist demon withdrew, moving back towards the dark tree
trunks.
The horses followed, neighing softly. A silver light shone from between the trees. The
mist demon and both the horses walked into it and were gone.
* * * *
The next couple of days were hard. They walked for a while but soon realised that they
wouldn’t get very far on foot—especially not while carrying their saddles. They’d debated
leaving them behind, but they’d only have to buy new ones once they’d made it out of their
current predicament.
So on the second day, they stopped and constructed a raft from some of the larger fallen
branches and a few sturdy, young saplings, which they tied together with plant tendrils. It
was hard work and they made slow progress, but using a raft on the river would give them a
better chance at making it out of the forest than trying to walk. His hands were rubbed raw
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from physical labour he wasn’t used to, but Bayar bit his tongue and didn’t let on how much
they hurt.
In the evening, when the emerald darkness around them had changed to inky black,
Chinux made them a fire so they could warm themselves. When Bayar reached for the cup of
hot tea Chinux offered him, the mild heat burned him. He hissed in pain. Chinux’s eyes
widened and the man grabbed his hands.
“What have you done to yourself?” Chinux held on tightly, turned his hands palm-up
and stared at the blisters, some of them already open and bleeding.
Bayar shrugged, trying to stop the tears from flowing.
“Shit, you should have said something.” Chinux shook his head. “I didn’t think. I’m
sorry. You’re not used to this kind of physical work, are you?”
“That’s no reason not to contribute.” Bayar’s heart lurched when he saw the worry in
Chinux’s eyes. “I wasn’t about to leave it all to you, was I?”
“No, I guess you weren’t.” Chinux started cleaning the scrapes and bruises with a soft
cloth he’d pulled from his bags and some water. “But this is ridiculous. I understand that
your pride probably stopped you from saying something, but you can’t let it cause serious
injury like this. You’re too important to this mission, and you’re not going to be of any use if
you’re too hurt to do anything.”
When the wounds had been cleaned, Chinux put some calming gel onto them and
wrapped them in soft strips of fabric. The relief from the pain was immediate and made
Bayar moan.
“Feel better?” Chinux smiled and put an arm around his shoulders, moving them both
closer to the fire.
“Yeah.” Bayar was so tired, he just snuggled into Chinux’s warmth, dropped his head
onto the man’s broad shoulder and closed his eyes.
* * * *
When he woke up it was still dark. He was wrapped in Chinux’s arms, the blankets
pulled tightly around them for protection against the cold. Even here under the ancient trees
the days were still warm, but the nights had a definite bite to them now. Autumn was in full
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swing and more leaves would surely start to turn soon. The fire was very low and provided
barely enough light to see by.
He breathed deeply, loving Chinux’s exotic scent of male musk, leather and something
spicy. Bayar’s heart lurched when Chinux opened his dark eyes as though he knew he was
being examined.
When Chinux smiled, still half asleep, Bayar couldn’t resist and brushed his lips across
the other man’s mouth. Chinux’s eyes widened before he moved closer and kissed Bayar
back. Lips to lips, hardly daring to breathe, Bayar stared into those dark eyes, wishing to stay
like this forever.
Chinux licked his lower lip. Tingles of excitement raced along Bayar’s spine and he
sighed. As if that had been the signal Chinux was waiting for, he started nibbling along
Bayar’s lips until his breath came in gasps.
Chinux moved closer still, pressing their open mouths together for Bayar’s first real
kiss. He didn’t know what to do, but when Chinux’s tongue licked its way inside his mouth,
he stopped thinking and let his body take over. Lips mashed together and tongues duelling,
they were both soon moaning into each other’s mouths. The heat rose to almost unbearable
levels as both of them grew hard and started rocking their groins together.
Chinux pulled back and took a deep breath.
“Are you sure?” Chinux brought up a hand and cupped Bayar’s jaw.
“Wow, that was something else.” Bayar was impressed he was able to string a sentence
together. “I never knew it could be so intense.”
“You’ve never been kissed like that?” Chinux frowned.
“Never at all.” Bayar blushed and tried to look away from those smouldering eyes. “It’s
embarrassing but I figure you need to know.”
“I can’t believe nobody has ever kissed you before.” Chinux stroked his cheek with a
thumb, making him feel all tingly inside. “But I can’t say I’m upset about it. It’s very hot to be
the first to show you. I’d like to be somewhere safe and take my time with you, but I don’t
know if I can wait.”
“I don’t want to wait.” Bayar squirmed, making both of them moan. “I don’t know
what sort of dangers we’ll be facing, so now is as good a time as any.”
“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean them.” Chinux held his breath.
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Bayar kissed him. He moaned into the caress as Chinux’s hands moved between their
bodies, fumbling their pants open. When he took both their erections into his hand and Bayar
felt another hard cock against his own for the first time, he almost lost it.
“More.” He thrust against Chinux to get more of the delicious friction. The pleasure
was so intense he thought his head might explode.
With a grin, Chinux tightened his hand and suddenly everything was even hotter.
Bayar’s eyes widened as his hips started moving faster and faster. The tingling at the base of
his spine gave him only a few seconds’ warning.
“Chinux!” He threw his head back and let go. Waves of pleasure overwhelmed him as
he came all over Chinux’s hand.
Seconds later Chinux followed him and added more heat to the mess he’d made.
Cleaning up wouldn’t be easy, but it was worth it. Bayar smiled and kissed Chinux again.
“That was wonderful.” He moved in for another kiss.
“I’m glad you liked it. There’s a lot more I can show you.” Chinux wiggled his brows.
Bayar couldn’t wait. As long as it didn’t interfere with finding Delgar, he was all for it.
* * * *
Chinux was more than ready to leave the Misty Forest. In fact, he’d been ready several
days ago. The raft was tiny, small enough that they’d had to leave their saddles behind after
all. They’d travelled along the river for three days and, while being on the water didn’t
bother him, Bayar hadn’t been at all comfortable with the raft’s movements. It wasn’t a good
sign for their trip across the Stormy Sea.
“I really don’t like travelling on water.” Bayar looked queasy.
“It won’t be much longer now.” Chinux only hoped that was true. “We should be able
to rest in whatever port city we end up. It might take a few days to find a ship with a captain
willing to take us across.”
“Let’s hope they have a decent inn.” Bayar swallowed. “I could do with a few nights in
a proper bed and some hot meals.”
“A proper bed sounds good.” Chinux grinned as he watched Bayar blush.
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When they finally did make it out of the Misty Forest another day later, they both
breathed a sigh of relief. The murky gloom had become depressing. Chinux shook his head.
They had only completed the first part of their quest, and it was probably going to become
more difficult the closer they got to Qara. The river they’d been following continued straight
into the deep blue sea.
“Wow!” Bayar visibly perked up. “I never knew that the ocean would be this big. It
looks like it goes on forever.”
“It’s a good thing it doesn’t.” Chinux smiled. He hadn’t been to the ocean before and
was equally impressed. “If it did, we might never reach Qara.”
“I know that.” Bayar glanced at him. “I was just surprised.”
The view was amazing. Having left the tall trees behind, they could see across the vast
plain of the river delta. There was a town to their left with several high spires, more houses
than they could count and a large harbour. Several ships were anchored there. Sturdy city
walls protected the core of the city. Freshly planted fields and many colourful farm houses
were sprinkled outside the city perimeter. It looked very peaceful.
“I wonder what this place is called.” Bayar pulled out the old map that had been their
guide ever since they’d left known territory. He glanced at it for a while. “If this map is
accurate and they haven’t changed the name, this must be Kirgusk.”
“Okay, let’s go.” Chinux paddled the raft towards the riverbank, jumped off and held it
steady so that Bayar could disembark.
They took their saddlebags and started walking towards the city. The closer they came,
the bigger it looked. The city gates were wide open and the guards looked happy and
relaxed.
Once inside the city walls, the noise level hit them. There were more people than
Chinux had ever seen in one place. All of them looked happy and comfortable, and wore
colourful clothing. Not a weapon in sight. Soon, they came to a big square full of market
stalls vying for attention. Herbs and spices, fabrics and shoes, fruits of every colour,
jewellery, and even some live animals were on display.
They wandered on, glad to feel solid ground under their feet. After a while they entered
a quiet side street and saw what looked like an inn, called ‘The Sleepy Horse’. Apparently its
owner had a sense of humour.
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They decided to take a room at the back, hoping it would be quieter. Small bathing
chambers were provided on the ground floor.
After their baths, which unfortunately had to be taken separately, they went to the
second floor to inspect their room. The four-poster bed was massive and promised more than
a good night’s sleep. A large window provided a view of the backyard and a stone fireplace
promised warmth during cold evenings.
They took their meal downstairs. Once they were done, they spoke to the innkeeper
about finding a ship or boat for hire. He promised to make some enquiries.
“Let’s go upstairs.” Chinux would have loved to take Bayar’s hand but he wasn’t sure
how these people would react.
“It’s not that late, is it?” Bayar grinned, apparently understanding what was really
behind the idea. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind an early night.”
“Early night!” Chinux walked up the stairs trying not to laugh. This playful side of
Bayar was delightful. “I’ll show you early night.”
“Please.” Bayar followed him into their room and locked the door.
Chinux turned around and opened his arms. Bayar stepped into them and lifted his
head. Chinux smiled as he bent his head to kiss the red lips that had been driving him crazy.
Bayar responded by opening his mouth. Their tongues were soon dancing in intimate
caresses that were making Chinux harder than was comfortable.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Chinux stepped back and helped Bayar take off his
vest, then his shirt. The smaller man’s chest was almost hairless, with light brown nipples
that already stood erect.
Chinux lifted his hand and stroked first one, then the other. Bayar closed his eyes and
sighed. When Chinux slid his hand up to caress the other man’s jaw, Bayar opened his eyes
again and smiled.
“This is nice. It’s even better when we’re naked.” Bayar lifted his arms and twined them
behind Chinux’s neck.
The kisses that followed were hotter than any Chinux had ever had. He stepped back
and took off his clothes, letting Bayar do the same. His creamy white skin drew Chinux’s
hands like nothing else. He pulled the smaller man towards the bed. Once they lay down on
their sides, he embraced Bayar and caressed the soft skin of his back to his heart’s content.
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Bayar moaned and wriggled even closer, providing delicious friction when their groins
touched. Chinux slid a hand between their sweaty bodies and enclosed Bayar’s hard cock in
his fist. Seconds later, Bayar’s smaller hand found his straining erection and started stroking
up and down. This was going to be much faster than he’d hoped.
Bringing their mouths together for a passionate kiss, he thrust into Bayar’s hand while
making sure his lover received equal treatment. They panted with desire as they each drove
the other higher and higher until soft moans changed into small cries of need. Chinux
squeezed Bayar’s cock tightly as he pulled back to look into his lover’s face. His blond hair
was plastered to his skull, his mouth slightly open and his pupils dilated with desire.
“Come on. Let go. I’ve got you.” Chinux smiled when Bayar’s eyes widened and his
whole body started to shake as hot seed splashed over Chinux’s hand and onto his stomach.
Unable to hold on any longer, Chinux followed and more heat splashed between their bodies
as he came harder than he had in a long time.
“That was wonderful.” Bayar yawned, withdrew his sticky hand and found a piece of
cloth to wipe it on before bringing it around Chinux’s back.
“Hmm…” Chinux was still trying to recover.
Barely able to keep his eyes open, he only just remembered to use the cloth for his own
hand and their bodies before completing the embrace Bayar had initiated. He loved how
their relationship was becoming more intimate. He hoped there would be time for more
soon, even though their quest came first.
* * * *
The next morning found them well rested and ready to check out their options for
sailing across the Stormy Sea. The innkeeper sent them to the harbour to follow up on some
leads. The first three captains they spoke to refused to consider taking them to Qara. The
fourth finally agreed but wanted far more money than they had planned to spend. They
didn’t have a choice, though, so they agreed and set sail the same afternoon.
This trip was much worse than their few days on the raft. Bayar visibly suffered,
spending most of the time bent over the railing in utter misery. There was not much Chinux
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could do other than give moral support. The ship wasn’t exactly clean and the crew didn’t
really inspire confidence. Most of them looked more like pirates than sailors.
On the third day of their voyage, the high winds changed into a storm and rain started
pouring from the skies. With no land in sight and the waves growing bigger by the minute, it
didn’t look as though they were going to reach Qara any time soon, if at all.
“You think it might be a good idea to turn around?” Bayar looked greener than ever, his
fingers wrapped tightly around the railing.
“I’m not sure that would help us.” Chinux didn’t want to admit defeat, since he never
had before.
“At least it might get us out of this rain. Not to mention getting away from these
waves.” Bayar closed his eyes for a moment.
“It might. But we’d still have to come back. We can’t just give up, this is much too
important.” Chinux did feel for Bayar, though. The man really had suffered during this trip.
“I know that. I just don’t know how I’m going to survive the next few days if this
continues.” Bayar opened his eyes, the misery in them making Chinux want to take him into
his arms and make everything better.
“I don’t think we’re that far away from the coast.” Chinux peered into the misty
wetness, hoping to discover a positive sign.
Instead, the pitching of the ship increased. A fierce gust of wind pushed them so deeply
into an oncoming wave that the entire deck was covered with water. Even though the ship
made it back to the surface a few seconds later, it was clear that it wouldn’t hold on much
longer.
Chinux grabbed Bayar by the arm and dragged him towards the lifeboats at the back of
the deck. He’d been surprised there were any at all but the crew probably used them to travel
to land in shallow water. By the time they got there, most of the crew had evidently already
left and there was only one remaining boat. It didn’t look like it was in the best condition but
they had no choice.
They lowered the boat as best they could then jumped inside. The ship was almost gone
by the time they’d rowed away only a small part of what he hoped would be a safe distance.
They redoubled their efforts and managed to evade the maelstrom created by the sinking
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ship. Without any idea of where to go, nor the power to get there, all they could hope for was
to stay alive and adrift until the storm was over.
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Chapter Four
Bayar was cold and his head hurt. Something heavy lay across his chest and he couldn’t
figure out where he was. Hadn’t they been in a lifeboat? He opened his eyes to darkness. Soft
breathing sounds reassured him that he wasn’t alone. Suddenly the weight lifted from his
chest and a moan announced the presence of another man.
“Bayar?” Chinux sounded confused.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Yeah, I’m here. Wherever here is.” Bayar sighed. “Do you have any idea where we are?
Last thing I remember, we were in the middle of the ocean.”
“I think we’re in a cave. I managed to get the boat close to a beach before it sank. I hope
that it’s one of the beaches of Qara.” Chinux took a deep breath. “There really wasn’t any
other land within reach from where we ended up.”
“The cave would explain the darkness.” Bayar lifted an arm and rubbed his forehead in
an attempt to lessen his headache.
“We have to find a way out of here. We need a fire to warm us up before we freeze to
death. And then we need to explore so we can find a way to Delgar’s hideout.” Chinux sat
up and pulled Bayar with him.
Holding on to each other, they stumbled towards the grey light that looked like an exit.
Finally, bright sunshine hit them when they went outside. Bayar instantly felt much better.
“Looks like we won’t need a fire after all.” He turned into the sunlight and stretched his
tired body. Remembering the valuable map, he checked his inside pocket where he’d hidden
it. He was relieved to find it undamaged in its protective sleeve. They might need it on the
return trip, just as they would the gold reserves they had both sewn into their vests. He
checked for the small lumps and to his immense relief, they were still present too.
“You’re right; we won’t need a fire now. But unless we can find shelter for the night,
we’ll have to look for wood so we can keep warm. The nights are going to be cold, even this
far south.” Chinux pointed at the high cliffs that ran along the beach. “Those don’t look like
we can climb up easily. We’ll have to look for a way around them.”
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They walked along the beach for a while but the cliffs didn’t get any lower or less
forbidding. Finally, they found what looked like steps carved into the sheer face of the black
rock. It was hard work and progress was slow. Bayar hated heights almost as much as
travelling on water, so his entire focus was on not looking down. The farther they advanced,
the queasier he felt. Shit! This adventure stuff is no fun when you have to live it. Nothing in his
life so far had prepared him for this.
Finally, they made it to the top. The view wasn’t any more encouraging than that from
the deserted beach. Plenty of rocks and a few scraggly bushes greeted them. The vision he’d
had when he was looking for Delgar’s location had been correct. This was a desolate place
with little hope for them to find anything interesting unless they could discover the location
of Delgar’s castle.
“There’s got to be a path nearby.” Chinux peered at the ground. “Those steps wouldn’t
be there if they didn’t lead somewhere. All we have to do is find it.”
“Well, if anyone can, it’s you.” Bayar looked around and frowned. “I don’t think
anything much can survive around here, so we’d better find a way out pretty fast.”
“I know. It looks as if the area has been hit by several disasters. I wonder what it was
like before it was destroyed.” Chinux shook his head. “I certainly wouldn’t want to live here
the way it is now. I don’t even think there’s any water around.”
“Maybe they all left.” Bayar followed Chinux, who had started walking away from the
beach towards the dark horizon.
“Possibly. But where did they all go?” Chinux kept walking as if he knew where he was
going.
“I guess it depends on whether this island has other, more hospitable areas they could
move to. If not, they might have gone to Kirgusk.” Bayar hoped that was the case. There was
so much destruction here; nobody could have survived whatever had happened.
After several hours of walking, Bayar was tired enough to just sit on the hard rock and
not care. They didn’t have a choice but to go on, though, so after their break they continued
until late afternoon.
“I think I can see some trees over there.” Chinux pointed towards their right.
“Let’s hope so. I could do with a place to rest that isn’t just rocks. Not to mention how
thirsty I am.” Bayar’s tongue was so dry it was difficult to speak.
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“I agree. If we don’t find water soon, we’re going to be in real trouble.” Chinux turned
right and walked towards the trees.
The closer they got, the clearer it became that the sparse growths and gnarled remains
of once-proud trees were no longer alive. Black and brown branches stood at odd angles to
burnt tree trunks. When they entered the small area that made up the leftover forest, a small
brackish puddle of water became visible in what must have once been a clearing.
“That doesn’t look to be very healthy.” Chinux’s shoulders slumped.
“No, it doesn’t. It’s a good thing that one of the first spells I learned is one that purifies
water.” Bayar grinned. That was the kind of knowledge he’d always doubted to be very
useful. If only I’d known. Thank the gods I have no trouble remembering spells.
“You can do that? Isn’t it dangerous, though? I don’t want you to faint again.” Chinux
frowned, his furrowed forehead making him look almost threatening.
“It might be more dangerous not to have any water. I can’t guarantee that I won’t faint
again, but I think we both know that we can’t go on much longer without water. So it isn’t
like we have a lot of choice.” Bayar knew that Chinux would take care of him if he did faint
so there wasn’t really a problem.
“You’re right…we have none at all. And I don’t like that one bit.” Chinux stepped aside
to let Bayar approach the puddle.
“Can’t say I like it much either. But at least if we have some water now we’ll be able to
continue.” Bayar knelt on the hard rocks and put one hand into the dark brown water. This
wasn’t going to be easy. He hadn’t exactly had a lot of practice. But the spell came back to
him quickly enough, and he closed his eyes to focus on the words as well as the visualisation
of what he wanted to happen.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back, his head in Chinux’s lap. He opened
his eyes and looked up into worried, dark brown eyes. He smiled and the responding grin
was more than enough reward.
“You did it!” Chinux lifted a hand and stroked his cheek. “The water looks clear and
smells normal now. Here, let me get you some.”
Chinux bent to his side and filled a cupped hand with the lifesaving liquid. He brought
it to Bayar’s lips and let him sip it all before insisting on a break. Bayar sat up, already feeling
refreshed. A little while later, they both had more water until they felt better. The decision to
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stay here for the night was an easy one to make. It wasn’t going to be comfortable, but at
least the dry wood from the dead trees would provide them with enough fuel for a fire. And
they would be able to have more water in the morning.
Bayar was still tired when they got up just after sunrise. They drank as much water as
they could then began walking. By lunchtime they were exhausted again, but there was a
black shape on the horizon that looked like it might be a building or a city. Encouraged to see
that at last they might be getting somewhere, they continued on. It was now clear that they
were approaching a castle.
It looked exactly like it had in his vision. The crystalline structure was even more
forbidding in reality—the edges looked sharper than knives and glinted in the light of the
sinking sun. When they got even closer, the air around them began to vibrate. Bayar stopped
walking. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he felt very uncomfortable. Chinux
looked like he had the same problem.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to go inside. This feels like some sort of magical barrier. I
don’t think it’s safe to try and breach it without some idea of what we’re facing.” He looked
up at the sheer wall, searching for any sort of door or gate. But there was nothing, not even
the big door from his vision.
“Do you suppose this is Delgar’s stronghold?” Chinux peered at the castle as if he
believed simply focusing on it with enough energy could get them in.
“I think it is, if I can believe my vision. At least that got us here, so I suspect the rest is
correct as well.” Bayar pinched the top of his nose, a gesture that always helped him think.
“We really need to talk to him. But first we have to find a way in.”
“How do you suggest we do that?” Chinux turned his head to look at him.
“There’s only one way.” Bayar swallowed. “I’m going to have to get close enough to try
and detect if any magic is involved. If there is, I can try to penetrate whatever shield Delgar
put in place. It’ll be dangerous but I see no other way.”
“You’re right, it will be dangerous. And especially if you faint again, which seems to
happen every time you cast a spell.” Chinux frowned. “I’m not happy about that.”
“It doesn’t make me happy either. But, I don’t think we have a choice. You’re just going
to have to make sure that you’re ready to get both of us in if I find an opening.” Bayar hated
that he fainted every time. He made a mental note to try to find out how to avoid it. “I don’t
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know why that happens, but I suspect there’s something I’ve overlooked. We don’t know
much about the Old Magic, but I’ve done a lot of covert research into it, and this issue was
never mentioned.”
“It probably wouldn’t be. I can’t imagine any sorcerer wanting to let it become public
knowledge. It’s a real weakness.” Chinux frowned. “There’s got to be a way around it.”
“I agree. We just have to find it.” Bayar shrugged. “It’s not going to help us now,
though, so let’s just get on with it.”
Chinux nodded and Bayar turned around to face the black castle with its invisible
magic barrier. The vibes he received were dark and threatening, almost as if the building was
alive and was trying to scare him into giving up.
How odd.
Chinux hated not being able to do anything to help, but magic was firmly in Bayar’s
hands. Maybe it was something he could learn as well? The fainting was disquieting, but the
magic seemed very useful and was just subversive enough to tantalise him. Officially, it was
still illegal to use it, but the fact that Bayar had researched it seemed to indicate those rules
were changing…or had once been different. Likely this had more to do with the fact that he
was a prince than that a milder political climate was developing.
He snorted. Wouldn’t that be typical? Either way, he was determined to find out
more…just as soon as they solved their current problems.
“I think I’ve got it.” Bayar looked triumphant. “Get ready to get us in. I may not be able
to hold the portal open for very long.”
“Portal?” How was he supposed to get them inside if he couldn’t even see the barrier?
Would this portal be visible?
“You’ll see. Hold on.” Bayar lifted his arms, closed his eyes and mumbled some words
in an unknown language.
A shimmering black door appeared right in front of them. It looked impenetrable, but
then the barrier they hadn’t been able to go through was invisible. Logic seemed turned on
its head here.
“Come on…we need to go.” Bayar’s voice was weak and he wobbled a little as he
moved towards the portal.
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Chinux took a deep breath, grabbed Bayar’s hand and moved forwards. Every instinct
he had was warning him to stop, but he pushed ahead, taking Bayar with him. The moment
his outstretched fingers touched the barrier, there was an odd tingling sensation. Nothing
serious happened, so he kept going. Bayar was visibly struggling to remain upright and as
soon as the weird door-like apparition was behind them his eyes rolled upwards and he
collapsed. Luckily, Chinux had been ready for that so he caught the other man in his arms.
What now?
They were still a good distance away from the crystalline castle. Bayar was unconscious
and would remain that way for a while, if past experience was any indication. They were out
in the open, and even though there wasn’t a single sign of life that he could detect, he didn’t
like being so visible. He sighed, shouldered the other man and started walking.
It soon became obvious that there was no way in from this side. Maybe the entrance
faced the other side? He didn’t really want to walk all the way around the huge structure, but
he might have no choice. There was no way he was going to keep carrying Bayar, though.
The man was getting heavy. He’d have to wake him up then they could go find the front
door and knock on it.
The minute he put Bayar down, the man opened his eyes. Shit, if I’d known laying him
down would wake him up, I’d have done that earlier.
“Chinux?” Bayar blinked a few times and rubbed his forehead before he sat up and
looked around with wide eyes. “What happened?”
“You got us through the magical barrier, but now we’re stuck because there’s no
entrance to the castle.” He sat down next to Bayar. He could do with a few minutes of rest.
“At least not on this side. I suspect we’ll find it once we walk around.”
“That or it’s invisible.” Bayar frowned.
“Shit, I hadn’t even thought of that.” He put his head in his hands. “I’ll never get used
to this magic stuff.”
“It just takes a while.” Bayar grinned when he looked back up. “But you might be right
about the entrance being on the other side.”
“How do we find out?” He stared at the forbidding black wall across the wide moat.
“I have no idea.” Bayar shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Unless I do a revealing spell,
the only other thing I can think of is to come close enough to be able to feel the bridge. It can’t
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be gone because no spell I’m aware of can make things vanish permanently. So it has to be
there…we just can’t see it.”
“Another spell is out of the question. You’re still recovering from this one. I like your
idea of trying to find the bridge by feel much better.” He smiled. “It may take us a while but
at least it’s safe.”
“Whatever we do, we’d better find a way inside before it gets dark. I don’t really want
to spend a night out here. We’ll also need some water pretty soon.” Bayar held out his hand.
Chinux took it and pulled the other man up with him.
“So, how are we going to do this? It would be nice to have a stick so we could drag it
along the edge of the moat. Once it met resistance, we’d know we found what we were
looking for.” He tilted his head. There had been no sticks or branches around since they’d left
the dead forest.
“We may not have sticks, but there are enough loose rocks lying around. We could use
those to throw into the moat. If they don’t drop to the bottom, we’ll know they must have
landed on the bridge.”
“Very clever! Rocks it is.” He collected two handfuls and started throwing them as they
walked along the edge of the moat. Bayar did the same, but he took the opposite direction.
Although Chinux didn’t like being separated, Bayar’s approach made a lot of sense. They’d
be a lot faster this way.
Half an hour later, Chinux was beginning to be frustrated. This castle was a lot bigger
than he’d thought and walking around its circumference would take a lot longer than he’d
hoped. The excited yelling in the distance made him turn round. Bayar was running towards
him, waving his arms frantically. It looked like he’d found something.
Finally.
He took off in Bayar’s direction and soon joined him in staring at a handful of small
rocks seemingly floating on air.
“Weird.” He shook his head. “I’m glad the entrance was this close.”
“Same here.” Bayar picked up some more rocks. “Let’s create a path across the bridge
we can see, so we won’t fall off. I can’t wait to get inside. I haven’t seen Delgar in twenty
years. I was only two when he was banished, so I don’t remember him at all. We were never
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allowed to talk about him, so I don’t have any idea what kind of person he is. Beyond the fact
that he’s a thief, of course.”
When they had produced something resembling a path across the bridge and could be
reasonably sure they wouldn’t fall off the edge, they made their way towards what they
supposed was the door. It didn’t become visible until they were less than ten feet away from
it. That was some pretty good protection. Delgar was either not a very sociable person, or he
was afraid of his enemies catching up with him. Either way, the huge, wooden double door
was securely locked, so even though they were now able to see it, they still didn’t know how
to get inside.
“What now?” He chuckled. “I suppose we could just knock, couldn’t we?”
“There is that.” Bayar grinned. “Let’s try that and see what happens.”
Chinux started with a few loud bangs. Nothing happened, but that might be because
whoever was inside hadn’t heard, or because it might take them a while to make their way to
the main entrance. But after a few minutes and a lot of banging from both of them, his arm
was getting tired. Just when he was ready to take a break, a strange scraping noise from
inside made him perk up.
Bayar did the same. But the door didn’t open yet. A small, square piece of wood at
about eye height vanished and revealed an eye on the other side. Very clever!
“Who are you to disturb my peaceful afternoon?” The voice sounded slightly muffled
from behind the thick layer of wood that formed a barrier between them and the castle’s
inhabitant. “Nobody ever makes it here by mistake, so you must want something from me. I
must warn you, this is not a reason for me to open the door. Nor is the fact that you might be
hungry or thirsty. It was your decision to come here, so it’s not my problem.”
“I can see why the guy might not have many friends.” Bayar had said this quietly
enough so the other man probably wouldn’t hear him.
“I heard that!” The man behind the door was definitely annoyed.
Chinux laughed.
“We are Bayar and Chinux of Naiman and here on a diplomatic mission to see Delgar.”
Bayar smiled winningly, as if the man on the other side of the door could see him. “Do you
know if he is here?”
“Little Bayar?” The man sounded amused.
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“Not so little anymore.” Bayar bristled.
“I don’t know someone called Chinux, but I’m sure little Bayar wouldn’t bring anyone
who’s dangerous.” The man cackled then the peephole vanished.
Before he could get angry about the man not letting them in after all, more scraping
sounds followed and the door began to move inwards. They helped by pushing from the
outside and soon had created an opening wide enough to admit a single man.
The door stopped moving abruptly.
“Okay, you can come in.” The voice was less muffled now and it became clear that the
man sounded a lot like the Khan.
Chinux went first, even though Bayar glowered at him. After all, he was here for his
prince’s protection and they weren’t yet sure that Delgar, if indeed he was the man behind
the door, didn’t mean them harm. Bayar followed closely enough behind him that he could
feel the man’s body heat. Thankfully the situation didn’t seem to be really dangerous.
It took him a few seconds before his eyes adjusted to the lower light inside. The huge
hallway was lit by two torches in sconces on each side wall, with a further torch at the top of
the wide staircase. The man who stood in front of him looked like a slightly younger version
of Vashir Khan. His hair hadn’t turned completely white yet, and his face was a little less
wrinkled, but the high forehead, pronounced cheekbones and straight nose were exactly the
same as the Khan’s. As Chinux’s eyes adjusted to the light, it also became clear that the man
had the violet eyes so prevalent in the royal family.
If this wasn’t Delgar, he needed to consider retirement.
“Well, well, well.” The man grinned as he looked back and forth between them. His
gaze landed on Bayar and remained. “You must be my long lost nephew.”
“Hello, Uncle Delgar.” Bayar’s smile was a little uncertain.
Long lost nephew? It wasn’t as if Bayar had made a decision to stay away from Delgar, so
why was the man pretending that was the case?
“Welcome to my home.” Delgar made an expansive gesture with one arm. “I still have
no idea why you’re here, and I may kick you out as soon as you tell me, but until then, you’re
welcome as my guests.”
Guests? Was this man unaware of what was going on, or was he just pretending?
Chinux couldn’t wait to find out.
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Chapter Five
Bayar was happy to finally be inside. He was startled by the door closing behind him
once Delgar waved at it imperiously, but being in here was better than being so exposed to
the barren emptiness on Qara. He stared at his uncle, trying to remember him. Of course, that
was pointless, but the way he’d greeted him as his long lost nephew had been weird. It had
sounded as if Delgar either didn’t remember that he’d been banished or didn’t want to
remember.
The man who looked so much like his father had taken him by surprise. Somehow he’d
imagined him to be more of a ‘bad guy’. He laughed at himself. This wasn’t some novel he
was reading. Bad guys in real life didn’t always look ‘bad’. He’d better be careful around
Delgar for now. Who knew what the man might have up his sleeve? The fact that he’d just
casually used magic to close the huge wooden door worried him. His theory that Delgar was
now a powerful sorcerer seemed to be correct.
“We appreciate your hospitality, Uncle. The trip was quite exhausting and we lost all
our supplies when our ship sank in the big storm yesterday.” He sighed, suddenly feeling
how tired he was.
“I’ll be nice for once, since we are related.” Delgar winked at him. His demeanour was a
little friendlier now, probably the result of not having to face total strangers. “But in
exchange for food and drink, I expect you to tell me why you’re here. I have a theory, of
course, but I want to hear your side of the story. A diplomatic mission was the last thing I
expected, so I must admit that I’m intrigued.”
“We can do that.” Bayar took Chinux’s hand and followed his uncle towards the back of
the entrance hall.
They walked through a small door…and into a different world. The entrance hall may
have been all dark and gloomy, but the kitchen they entered was colourful, warm and full of
laughing and smiling servants. From the old woman in front of the hearth to the two young
girls peeling potatoes in a corner, the group assembled here looked happy. A large courtyard
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was visible through the windows and people were milling about, tending a few horses and a
huge vegetable garden.
“What?” Bayar stopped in his tracks. This was totally unexpected after the
unwelcoming exterior of the castle.
“Surprised?” Delgar grinned and motioned for them to sit at the large table next to the
fireplace on the opposite wall to the hearth.
He gave some low-voiced orders to the maid and the cook, then turned back to them
and sat at the head of the table, with Bayar on one side and Chinux on the other. A pitcher of
water appeared moments later, and the dark-haired maid who brought it smiled at them as
she poured them each a glass. She served Delgar a huge tankard of ale before bringing a
basket with bread, some butter and cutlery. Suddenly, Bayar remembered how hungry he
was. His stomach growled in agreement. The cook brought over three huge bowls filled to
the brim with soup that smelt divine.
They finished their first glasses of water before the cook returned to the hearth. Bayar
glanced at Chinux, grinned and started to eat as if it was a competition. From the corner of
his eye, he noticed Delgar eating much more slowly. The man didn’t look as hostile as he had
when they had first arrived, but his expression wasn’t exactly friendly either.
Two bowls of soup later, he leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath.
“Better?” Delgar grinned, the gesture making him look younger and more
approachable.
“Much better, thank you.” Chinux leant back as well, but he didn’t really relax. This
was his ‘I’m on my guard’ posture, which Bayar had seen a lot of during their trip.
“So, does that mean you’re going to tell me why you’re here?” Delgar got up and
motioned for them to follow. “We’d best do that in the library so we’re not in the way of
dinner preparations.”
Quite a few dark corridors later, they arrived in a high-ceilinged room with a row of
windows along the very top of the three-storey height. Books and scrolls lined the walls and
Bayar wondered how many of them had been stolen. How he would love to spend the next
few years exploring this completely new store of knowledge. Who knew what treasures
might be hidden here?
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Once they were seated on one of the comfortable sofas in a corner, he cleared his throat.
Where do I start?
“As you may know, we’re here in response to your recent, shall we say, ‘activities’ in
Naiman. The stealing of books and scrolls was bad enough, but the threatening note you sent
brought my father’s anger to the boil.” He swallowed, not liking Delgar’s scowling face. “He
wants you to return the book you stole from the Royal Library and to stop removing valuable
sources of knowledge from Naiman.”
“I’m sure he does.” Delgar’s laugh was evil. “He just doesn’t get it, does he? Has he
ever once stopped to think about why I’m doing this? Has anyone else for that matter?”
“So you admit that the ‘parchment thief’ is you?” Chinux leant forwards.
“Of course! Only a master thief like me could have carried off that many thefts
successfully. As for managing to get into the Royal Library by infiltrating the very system set
up to protect it… Well, that was simply ingenious, don’t you think?” Delgar smiled, looking
happy and relaxed for the first time.
“Unbelievable!” Chinux sat back and shook his head.
“I agree.” Bayar hadn’t expected this explanation, but the comment about being a
‘master thief’ made him think there was a story here. “But I’d like to understand why you
did it. I mean, from what I know you got caught for stealing once before and the result was
banishment. Why risk being found out and punished more harshly?”
“It is what I do.” Delgar sat up straight, clearly proud of his achievements. “Stealing
jewels was fun—it only ever affected the rich, and it was good practice. It wasn’t like there
was anything else for me to do. Being the youngest son and merely a half-brother of the three
‘legal’ potential heirs to the throne wasn’t exactly interesting. I was totally superfluous and I
hated that. So I looked for something I was good at.”
“But it’s illegal!” Bayar shook his head.
“So is researching magic, according to the majority. Don’t think I didn’t figure out how
you’d tracked me.” Delgar raised his eyebrows and waggled them.
Bayar blushed. The man has a point.
“Look, what’s legal and what isn’t is a very fluid concept. It has changed over the
centuries since we’ve gone from living in nomadic tribes to settling down and building cities.
I agree that theft tends to be considered bad, but I think it’s also excellent training in
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psychology, planning skills and stealth.” Delgar shrugged. “Nobody seems to see the beauty
in a well-executed theft any more, so I decided to remind them. I admit that I also wanted to
get back at my idiotic brother for ignoring me all these years.”
“He probably saved your life by banishing you!” Bayar couldn’t believe his uncle
actually meant it.
“Possibly. But he never once took me seriously when I was younger, didn’t even want
to discuss the fact that stealing at the level I’m at is an art…and then he just sends me away?”
Delgar snorted. “Please!”
“Which brings us to the question of what happened to you after you left Naiman.”
Bayar needed some time to digest Delgar’s revelations and to come up with some sort of a
plan that would work for his father. Delgar wasn’t just going to give up, even if they did
manage to arrest him. He was clearly determined. “How did you end up here? And how is it
possible to survive in the middle of all the desolation we saw outside? Is it all magic based?
And if it is, where did you learn so much?”
“That’s a lot of questions. I guess I’ll answer them in the interest of making this
‘diplomatic mission’ of yours a success. I want to solve this problem as much as you do, but I
won’t compromise my own needs to do it. If we can find some way of accommodating both
my and Vashir’s needs, everyone wins.” Delgar leant back in his easy chair, supported his
elbows on the arm rests and steepled his fingers.
“After my banishment, I travelled aimlessly for a long time. Eventually, I made my
way south and heard about a famous sorcerer in Qara. I must admit I was intrigued by the
idea of studying magic and was ecstatic when he accepted me as his apprentice when I
arrived here.” Delgar pinched the bridge of his nose before he continued. “I should have
known it wouldn’t last. About ten years ago, Tegus—my teacher—began dabbling in black
magic. He never involved me in any of it, but I noticed he became more withdrawn, started
drinking blood and talking about ritual sacrifices. Two years later, he executed some major
ritual on Samhain that he’d talked about for weeks. Again, he gave me no details, but he was
very excited. Something about immortality and absolute knowledge.”
“What happened?” Bayar had a hard time believing any of this. But why would Delgar
lie? He hadn’t even denied his own criminal acts.
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“A major explosion.” Delgar closed his eyes for a moment. “I have no idea what the
details were, but the castle was the only thing on Qara that remained standing. All life
outside its walls was extinguished. We even had some volcanic vents open up. Some of them
are still spewing sulphurous fumes today. The castle itself and everyone in it were fine.”
“What about this Tegus?” Chinux frowned. “Has he been punished?”
“I don’t know what happened to him. He was right in the middle of the explosion, but
his body was never found. The consensus was that he couldn’t have survived the fire that
raged in his work room. It was the only place inside the castle that was destroyed.” Delgar
shrugged. “Good riddance as far as I’m concerned. I didn’t like the direction his research was
taking. Death has never held my interest.”
Bayar nodded. He couldn’t say he blamed his uncle.
“I think that’s enough revelations for today.” Delgar sat up. “You’ve got quite a lot to
think about, and I propose you do that overnight. I’ll ask my servants to serve you dinner—
in your rooms if you wish to have privacy—then I’ll see you again tomorrow and we can talk
about what needs to be done next.”
Bayar checked with Chinux, who was nodding.
“Thank you for your offer.” He was suddenly very tired. “Is there a way you can throw
in a bath and some clean clothes?”
“Of course.” Delgar grinned. “It will be good to have a royal prince in my debt.”
I just bet!
* * * *
Chinux looked around their guest room, pretending to be interested in the décor but
actually making sure he knew where all the exits were. Delgar may have seemed a lot less
hostile after their initial discussion, but that was no reason to let his guard down. While he
wasn’t sure how to defend them against magic, which Delgar was very clearly able to wield
competently, knowing where to run in case of an emergency was always a good idea.
The basic layout was pretty simple. A stone fireplace with two easy chairs in front of it
occupied one wall, a large double bed on the one opposite, some bookshelves and a door to
an adjacent room next to them on the third, and windows leading to the courtyard adorned
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the fourth. Wood panelling made the room feel more comfortable, and the dark green
bedspread, curtains and rugs added a minimum of colour. The room definitely wasn’t
cheerful, which fit well with the overall feeling of doom this castle had given him from
outside.
“There’s a bath in the smaller room. You can pump your own water, hot from the tank
near the kitchen or cold straight from our underground well.” Delgar was about to leave
when he paused at the door. “I’ll have the servants bring up some dinner in an hour and
they’ll have clean clothes for you as well.”
“Thank you.” Bayar nodded but looked as if he was about to fall asleep. “We’ll see you
tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’ll come by to pick you up so you don’t get lost.” Delgar grinned.
“Unintentionally or otherwise.”
He turned around and left, closing the door softly behind him.
“Come on, let’s take that bath and we can talk.” Chinux pulled Bayar with him to
explore the small bathroom.
The claw-footed tub was a good size—they’d both fit. The pumps Delgar had
mentioned sat at one end, next to a small washbasin on the other side. There was a toilet with
a smaller pump next to it, a rack with clean towels against a wall and even a small outside
window. This may have been an old castle, but thankfully someone had updated it with the
essential modern conveniences.
“This is a nice surprise.” Bayar smiled and started to undress.
Chinux busied himself with the pumps and added some of the provided bath oil to the
water. Bayar unveiling his body was too much of a temptation, and they needed to focus on
getting clean. Didn’t they? When Bayar touched his arm he looked up.
“Thanks for getting the tub filled.” Bayar pulled him around so they were facing each
other. “Let me help you get out of your clothes.”
Yes, please! Chinux nodded and held still while a very naked Bayar unbuttoned his vest,
took it and the undershirt off, dropped them on the floor and paused to caress his skin. His
lover’s soft hands felt like their own special kind of magic on his shoulders, his arms, then
down his chest and across his abdomen. Bayar opened his leggings and pulled them down,
adding them to the pile of dirty clothes on the floor.
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Chinux reached to cup Bayar’s face, loving the feeling of the slight stubble against his
skin. Bayar looked up and smiled at him as he removed the loose-fitting braies, giving his
quickly filling cock a soft stroke.
“Later.” He definitely wanted to get clean first.
Bayar nodded and they settled into the tub. His lover sat back-to-chest between his legs
and sighed as his muscles slowly relaxed. Chinux pulled him closer, dropped his head onto
the back of the tub and closed his eyes. It was nice to forget all their worries for a little while,
and feeling his lover’s body against his was more arousing than he’d thought possible. When
Bayar started to slowly stroke his legs, his cock went to full hardness in seconds.
To distract himself, he grabbed a washcloth and cleaned any body part he could reach.
He didn’t linger over his own, but he made sure to pay special attention to Bayar’s. His lover
stretched into the touches like a cat. His arms were sensitive, but touching his chest elicited a
range of sounds that drove Chinux’s arousal even higher. The soft pressure of Bayar’s ass
against his aching cock made him gasp for air and fight for control.
After they were both as clean as they would get, he turned his attention to Bayar’s
groin. He washed his lover’s cock and balls thoroughly, making the other man moan and
start thrusting into his hand. He grinned, and encircled the hard shaft while using his other
hand to caress Bayar’s abdomen and chest.
He was soon very close to coming himself. Bayar’s lower back pressed into his erection
and the friction was more than sufficient to push him closer and closer to the edge as his
lover’s breath quickened. Finally Bayar turned his head around so they could kiss, and the
soft caress of Bayar’s tongue against his own significantly added to the pressure in his balls.
The soft whimpering from Bayar’s throat was music to his ears and encouraged him to stroke
faster. Just before coming himself, he reached down to cup Bayar’s balls, squeezed them
carefully and that was it.
Bayar’s thrusts became erratic then he stiffened and started coming into the water.
Shuddering in response as pleasure raced out of his cock and up his spine, Chinux held on to
Bayar’s trembling body to make sure they didn’t drown.
“Mmm…” Bayar relaxed back against him, slowly stroking his arm.
“Nice.” He wanted to stay there forever, but the water was getting cooler. Just a few
more minutes…
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Quite a long while later, when the water was definitely cold, he realised they’d almost
drifted off to sleep. The thought of food waiting for them in the other room was the one thing
that enabled him to get them both up and dried off. They walked back into the bedroom and
pulled on the nightgowns that had appeared on the bed over the very welcome fresh braies.
Two neat stacks of clothes for tomorrow had been set on the easy chairs.
Large bowls filled with a delicious-smelling stew sat on a tray next to fresh, crusty
bread that felt warm to the touch when he picked it up. They decided to eat sitting on the
bed, their backs comfortably supported by a mountain of pillows. The sweet apple pie they
had for dessert made Chinux moan in delight. Bayar grinned at him, clearly enjoying himself
as he licked the spoon sensuously. If Chinux hadn’t been so tired, he’d have started kissing
his lover to see what it might lead to this time.
When they were done, Bayar carried the used utensils as well as their dirty clothes to
the door, leaving everything outside for the servants. Chinux chuckled. The man was clearly
accustomed to living in a castle.
He crawled under the blankets and held them up for Bayar to join him. The other man
snuggled in and he closed his eyes.
“We were going to talk, right?” Bayar yawned.
“Tomorrow is soon enough. I need some sleep first.” He pulled Bayar closer, making
sure their legs were entwined and there was as little space between them as possible.
“Yeah…” Bayar’s soft snore surprised him a little. His lover was apparently even more
tired than he’d thought. He smiled and let himself drift off to sleep.
* * * *
Something was wrong. Chinux frowned as he struggled towards consciousness. He was
cold, a strange, mouldy smell permeated the air and the surface under his back was hard.
Bayar was no longer in his arms and nothing felt right.
“What?” His eyes flew open to almost total darkness.
A silvery light came from what looked like a window far above. Soft rustling noises to
his left reminded him of rats scurrying around in straw in the stables. He focused on trying
to discover where Bayar and he had ended up. Enough moonlight made it through the
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skylight to reveal crystal walls on four sides, with a wooden door in the middle of the one
opposite to where he lay. Moving his hands around confirmed the floor was covered in straw
and the wall behind him was somewhat damp.
Shit! He hated rats. They’d probably thrive in these conditions.
This was either a very bad dream or they’d been moved to a cell in some sort of a
dungeon while they were sleeping. How was that even possible? He shook his head as he sat
up so he could move over to check on Bayar. Stupid question. Delgar could have easily put
something in their food. Who knew how much time had passed? Chinux should have never
trusted Delgar to the extent of falling asleep. The bastard had taken advantage.
“Bayar?” He crawled over slowly, his legs and arms shaking with the after-effects of
whatever had subdued them.
“Chinux?” Bayar croaked as he sat up. “Where are we?”
“Not sure, but I suspect we’re in the castle dungeon.” He sat down next to Bayar,
linking their hands as he fought the dizziness in his head.
“Damn. He sure got to us, didn’t he?” Bayar shook his head.
“I just don’t understand what he’s trying to achieve.” He leaned his head back against
the hard rock. It was still better than trying to remain upright in his current condition. “He
must know they’ll come looking for us.”
“Yeah, and the next group won’t be anywhere close to diplomatic.” Bayar squeezed his
hand. “I just wish they’d hurry up and get here soon, but I know they won’t want to travel
this close to winter. I think we’re stuck here for a while.”
“You’re not serious!” The voice came from their left.
“What the hell?” Chinux jerked upright, putting himself between the voice and Bayar.
“Who are you?”
“Guess.” Movement from the dark corner alerted Chinux seconds before the man
moved into the half-light at the centre of the cell.
“Delgar!” Bayar and Chinux said at the same time.
“What in the world are you doing here? We thought you were behind this treachery.”
Bayar’s hand trembled against Chinux’s.
He stroked his lover’s skin with a thumb while staring at Delgar. He didn’t have
anything to add for now, so he waited to hear what Delgar would say.
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“You convicted me really quickly, too.” Delgar snorted. “Thanks for the trust.”
“You were the most likely suspect.” Chinux sighed. “We don’t know you well, and
maybe we should have given you the benefit of the doubt, but you have to admit that, from
our perspective, it didn’t look good for you.”
“Hmm.” Delgar crawled the last few feet so he could lean against the wall not too far
from them. “Well, I’m not guilty for once, and I’m as curious as you are to find out who did
this. I’ve tried using magic to reveal their identity, but something is blocking me. It could be
anything, so… No, I don’t know how to stop it.”
“We’d better hope the person who is behind this reveals themselves quickly. There’s no
way we can survive these conditions for long. It’s too cold, we have no water and we’re only
wearing our night clothes.” Chinux wanted to have someone to fight, not play a waiting
game. He felt like the mouse who didn’t know which cat was about to pounce and kill it.
“We might not survive what our jailor has planned for us.” Delgar frowned. “I don’t
like the fact he’s managed to interfere with my ability to use magic.”
“I agree.” Chinux sighed and pulled Bayar closer. He hated feeling helpless.
The sound of loud banging against wood startled them into turning their attention
towards the door. It flew open and a tall, dark-haired man strode in. His long hair was in
disarray, a scraggly beard hid some of his otherwise scarred face, and his grin was pure evil.
Black eyes stared at each of them in turn. The rest of him was hidden under a wide, swirling
robe that was as dark as the night sky on a moonless evening.
Delgar’s jaw dropped. The man had gone as white as a sheet. He opened and closed his
mouth, but no sound came out.
The dark stranger stood impassively, staring back at Delgar with impatience in his
stance. He didn’t quite tap a foot, but Chinux would have bet he was about to start when
Delgar finally spoke.
“Tegus?”
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Chapter Six
Bayar almost stopped breathing. That was Tegus? The legendary sorcerer whose body,
according to Delgar, had never been found? Now they knew why. While the man didn’t look
very healthy, he seemed to be very much alive.
“So, you do remember me.” Tegus sounded as if his voice hadn’t been used in a very
long time.
Delgar nodded.
“Let me tell you that your answer to this next question isn’t going to change your
punishment. However, I would like to satisfy my personal curiosity.” Tegus crossed his arms
in front of his chest. “Why did you make no attempts to save me after that unfortunate
accident?”
“Because…” Delgar swallowed. “Because I assumed you were dead. Nobody could
have survived the sort of explosion your experiment caused.”
“You have no idea, do you?” Tegus cackled. “You are such a disappointment. I thought
you were my greatest apprentice, and instead you proved to be just like all the others.”
“What…?” Delgar looked dazed.
“Silence!” Tegus uncrossed his arms and pointed at Delgar. “I am done with you.”
Delgar shrank back against the wall. There was a small flash of pale grey lightning
where the man touched the crystal. Bayar blinked. That couldn’t be right. He must be seeing
things.
“You!” Tegus stepped forwards and pointed at Bayar. “You will show me the way.”
“I will?” Bayar tilted his head. He had no intention of showing this guy anything. But
maybe they could find out more about his plans if he kept him talking.
“It was very considerate of the Khan to send you personally. I must admit that
surprised me.” Tegus grinned.
“It did?” Bayar thought he understood where this was going. But he needed to make
sure. “The way to where?”
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“The gods save me from another idiot!” Tegus rolled his eyes. “It should be more than
obvious, but I will spell it out for you. Qara has become too small for me. A sorcerer of my
powers deserves a larger khanate to rule. And Naiman is of a size that can profit from my
power. In fact, I suspect that successful development and its future prosperity will depend
on my ability to lead its people into a new era. One that returns magic to its proper place.”
It was Bayar’s turn to drop his jaw. Tegus was after Naiman’s throne? He wasn’t even
in the line of succession. How was he going to convince the Council of Ministers that he was
the rightful heir to the throne? Forget that. Tegus did not look like a man who was going to
use the legal process. Judging by the ruthless way he’d conducted his so-called experiment
and destroyed all life outside the castle walls, Tegus didn’t care about the cost of getting
what he wanted. He’d just march into Naiman and kill anyone who opposed him.
He had to be stopped. But how?
“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to help you.” Direct opposition was the most likely way to
infuriate Tegus to the point where he’d make a mistake.
“Oh, but you will.” Tegus pointed at Chinux. “If you don’t follow my instructions, or if
you try to lead me in the wrong direction, your lover will suffer.”
Shit, there went his plan of upsetting Tegus. The thought of Chinux being hurt was
enough to turn his stomach. He glared at the dark sorcerer. Was there a way to get rid of him
once and for all? And how could they find out about it quickly enough?
“I may have a few problems with my brother, but I don’t want to see him hurt.” Delgar
looked up from where he’d been staring at the floor. “We need to stop him.”
Bayar nodded.
“You can try.” Tegus threw his head back and laughed.
“That’s exactly what we’ll do. I think we need to turn the tables on you and use your
own magic against you.” Delgar rose to his feet and motioned them to do the same.
Bayar got up, still feeling very weak. When he touched the wall to stabilise himself,
there was another of those grey flashes of light. First Delgar and now him? What was going
on? Chinux stared at his hand, then met his gaze and raised his eyebrows. Clearly, his lover
had seen it, too.
“Bring it on.” Tegus lifted his arms.
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“We’ll need to make him disappear, send him back into the realm he came from.”
Delgar frowned.
“The realm he came from?” Bayar had no idea how that would work.
Tegus chose that moment to interrupt their strategy discussion. It wouldn’t have led to
anything useful anyway since the enemy was listening in. They’d just have to improvise.
Delgar lifted his arms and Bayar did the same, deciding to follow his uncle’s lead.
Tegus started chanting and a small black cloud appeared in front of him. It swayed and
swirled, moving from left to right. When it started growing and moving towards them, Bayar
suddenly felt icy cold. This was a vanishing cloud, and if it touched him, or any of the other
men, they would not be able to prevent disaster.
Moments later, a smaller but equally strange white cloud appeared in front of Delgar.
“Now you add your power to it, Bayar, and together we might be strong enough to
defeat him.” Delgar focused on the cloud in front of him and it started to grow.
Tegus snarled and the black cloud started to move towards Delgar. Bayar focused and
added his own strength to the growing white cloud. It pushed back against the black mass of
swirling energy and soon had Tegus in a corner. Nothing more happened and Bayar was
beginning to think he’d be stuck here for the rest of his life.
His arms were beginning to shake when Chinux stepped up to him, slid his strong arms
around his waist and held him upright. He could almost feel the vibes of support the other
man was sending, and it helped him to stay focused. Bayar poured all his energy into the
white cloud, but it didn’t seem to be enough. The black cloud started advancing now,
pushing them into a corner.
Tegus followed with an evil grin.
From the corner of his eye he noticed that had Chinux stretched out an arm, pushing his
hand against the wall to stop them from being crushed against it. A sudden flow of energy
startled him. It coursed through his body and strengthened not just his resolve, but made the
white cloud grow.
“Whatever you do, Chinux, don’t let go of the wall.” He had no idea what this was, but
he was going to use it to best advantage.
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Within minutes, Tegus had been pushed completely into a corner and was forced to
focus on trying to stop the black cloud from touching him. But Delgar and Bayar were
determined to end this once and for all, so they kept pushing the black cloud closer to Tegus.
“I don’t want to go back.” Tegus looked horrified.
“Go back where?” Bayar thought it was a very strange remark to make.
“I didn’t think he was part of this reality anymore. I would have found some sort of
trace. Instead, I believe he’s spent his time in another dimension. One he clearly isn’t fond
of.” Delgar grinned. “It will be fit punishment if we manage to banish him back there.”
Bayar just nodded and kept pushing their cloud into the black sorcerer’s. It took a few
more minutes, but the dam eventually broke. The black cloud touched Tegus and the
sorcerer screamed. His skin lit up, his eyes widened and he started to disintegrate before
their eyes. A final flash of grey light blinded them and when Bayar blinked his eyes back
open, the evil sorcerer was gone.
Delgar sank to his knees.
Bayar waited for the usual after-magic fainting spell, but nothing happened. Chinux
still held him in his arms and Bayar leant back, trying to maximise his contact with the man
who had stuck with him through thick and thin, including giving him support in a battle he
must have felt very uncomfortable with. Bayar was falling in love.
After a while, he’d caught his breath and curiosity took over.
“What’s going on, Delgar? And don’t try to deny it—I think we all saw what
happened.” Bayar sat down, pulling Chinux with him. He couldn’t bear the thought of being
separated from his lover.
“I think we’ve discovered a new variation of the black crystal’s attributes.” Delgar
sighed and sat down. “I’ve known for a while that it can strengthen someone’s magic when
they touch it. But the effect Chinux had when he touched you was new. It seemed as if he
was a conduit for the energy to flow.”
“A conduit for energy flow?” Chinux blinked and shook his head. “That must be the
strangest theory you have ever produced.”
“It certainly felt that way.” Bayar turned in his lover’s arms so he could see his face. “As
soon as you touched the wall, I felt less tired and more energised than I ever have before.
You are right to be sceptical. This will need a load of research to prove one way or the other.”
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“You like research.” Chinux smiled
It hadn’t been a question but Bayar still nodded.
“Do you want to know what I think is really strange?” Chinux looked at Delgar for a
second before turning his gaze back to Bayar. “You didn’t faint after using magic.”
“You noticed that?” Bayar closed his eyes and leant back into Chinux.
“It may be a side effect of the crystal, or it may be something else.” Delgar smiled.
“More research is needed.”
“I’ll make you an offer.” Bayar could only hope Delgar would be interested, or at least
be willing to support his idea.
“Okay, I’ll listen.” Delgar nodded.
“In exchange for you returning the stolen book to the Royal Library, I’ll help you
research the reasons behind this energy transmission or whatever it was.” He sat back and
watched as first disbelief then thoughtfulness crossed his uncle’s face.
“You would do that?” Delgar’s eyes widened.
“Sure. The Royal Library might be slightly bigger, but the things I can officially research
there are limited.” He shrugged. “Makes perfect sense to work somewhere I can get all the
materials I need. Naiman will do very well without me.”
“Well, in that case I see no problem with returning the stolen property. I had a copy of
that particular book in my own collection already. If the gesture helps keep Naiman’s army
off our backs, all the better.” Delgar grinned and held out his hand.
Bayar shook hands with his uncle and couldn’t suppress a happy smile. What an
interesting turn of events.
* * * *
A few weeks later…
Chinux walked into Qara castle’s library, carefully listening for any sound that might
tell him where his lover was spending his day today. There was no logic to the order Bayar
did things in, and Chinux was beginning to appreciate that. Spontaneity had ruled in their
personal life, and it certainly hadn’t ruined Bayar’s success in his chosen profession.
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There he was. Bent over one of the large tables used as desks and research benches,
Bayar was a truly inspiring man. He’d always looked good with his long blond locks, dark
violet eyes and lean, well-toned body. But with the addition of unlimited and uninhibited
research into all types of magic, his lover was truly happy now.
While Chinux hadn’t been of much use in Bayar’s research, he’d taken over the castle’s
defences, organising the servants and other day-to-day business. It was much like running an
estate. He liked his new job and, best of all, he was close to Bayar. That would always be a
priority for him.
They still hadn’t said the words, but it was difficult to hold back. Maybe it was time to
just jump in and say it.
“I heard you.” Bayar looked up, mischief twinkling in his eyes.
“Good, I bring good news.” Chinux bent closer for a quick kiss.
“I hope it won’t take long.” Bayar took Chinux’s hand and pulled him into one of the
extra-large easy chairs in his favourite corner. “We haven’t spent enough time together lately,
and I just realised I want to change that.”
“I like that idea.” Chinux wiggled his brows then embraced Bayar firmly and squeezed
himself next to him into the large leather chair. Bayar ended up with his head on Chinux’s
chest.
“So, what’s your good news?” Bayar looked up at him and he almost forgot why they
were here. All he could think about was kissing Bayar.
“I just spoke to a messenger from Naiman.” The round trip of messages had taken just
under four weeks.
“Yes?” Bayar’s attention was now all his.
“Your father has agreed to forgive Delgar his most recent thievery, provided he stays
away from Naiman.” Chinux watched Bayar’s smile emerge. It was better than a sunrise.
“That shouldn’t be a problem. We’re so busy now, there’s no time to consider a trip to
Naiman or anywhere else for that matter.” Bayar grinned and rubbed up against Chinux in
the provocative way they both knew led to more very quickly.
“He’s also asking for the two of you to look into using magic as an instrument of law
enforcement.” Chinux grinned. “That would actually be very cool. Helping criminals tell the
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213
truth, so to speak. Or maybe revealing the hiding places of stolen merchandise. Who knows
what you’ll come up with?”
“I’ll put it on the ever-growing list.” Bayar smiled and cuddled in more closely. “But
that’s enough of that.”
So true!
Chinux slid an arm around Bayar and leaned in for a kiss. Their position was a little
cramped, but that wouldn’t stop him. Bayar tasted so good—he could kiss the man all day
and not get tired of him.
“Bedroom?” Bayar’s lips were kiss-swollen and his eyes slightly wider than usual.
“Great minds think alike.” He got up, pulling Bayar with him.
They made it to the second floor and into their suite of rooms in no time. He’d thought
their guest room was luxurious, but this suite had it beaten by miles. Thick tapestries
adorned the walls, keeping the room warm and quiet. Their bathroom was a little larger than
the one they’d used the first time, and there were separate work rooms set aside for each of
them. They were rarely used, but it was a nice thought.
He undressed Bayar slowly, enjoying each newly exposed piece of skin before he went
to uncover the next. Bayar was hard and moaning by the time he turned the tables and made
sure Chinux got the same treatment. They slid under the covers, both raring to go.
More kissing followed soft caresses. Whispered words of admiration in the dark made
him so hot, he almost lost it when Bayar turned around onto his back, making Chinux follow.
He supported himself on his elbows so he wouldn’t be too heavy for Bayar and looked down
into his lover’s eyes. The trust that shone back from them was unmistakable and such a turn-
on he had to bite his lip to stay in control. His heart was so full of his feelings, he had to tell
Bayar.
“I love you.” He held his breath when Bayar’s eyes widened. But it didn’t look like
negative shock—more like surprise.
“You do?” Bayar smiled.
“I have for a while.” He smiled. “I realised it when I almost lost you in that awful fight
in the dungeon.
“Same here.” Bayar reached up, cupped his cheek and looked deeply into his eyes. “I
love you, Chinux.”
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214
Those were the last words they spoke for a while. Kisses, soft moans, whimpers and the
odd groan were the only sounds as he prepared his lover’s opening with careful fingers. The
oil was always close to their bed since they enjoyed giving each other massages. It was,
however, quite often misappropriated for other purposes.
“Please.” Bayar held on to Chinux’s shoulders with all his might as he moved sensually
to make sure the fingers in his ass went as deep as possible.
Finally the muscles were loose enough. Chinux withdrew his fingers, repositioned
himself between Bayar’s legs and pushed into the tight heat.
“Gods!” He couldn’t believe how good it felt. It was the same every time they did this.
“So good.” Bayar squeezed his muscles around him for good measure.
He was going to lose it before they even began, so he focused on giving Bayar
everything he had. He started with slow, deep thrusts that pushed them both up towards the
headboard. Bayar responded by pushing back into every thrust.
Their passion rose and he bent down for a kiss. It made everything feel more intense—
tongues tangling in the same rhythm as their lower bodies worked. The need for release was
suddenly almost overwhelming and he sped up his thrusts.
“Yes!” Bayar stiffened and came all over their bellies as he shook with the force of his
orgasm.
Seconds later, Chinux followed his lover into bliss. He emptied his balls into Bayar’s
welcoming ass and collapsed onto his side after carefully withdrawing. Bayar moved into his
arms and they were quiet while they caught their breath.
“I’m so glad I went on this quest with you.” He’d had his doubts when the guard
captain had first asked him to present his credentials for a mission to catch the parchment
thief. Finding people was what he did for a living, but Bayar had been a nice surprise.
“So am I.” Bayar smiled. “I’m even glad I had a prideful uncle with a slightly bent
understanding of morality.”
“You really like it here, don’t you?” Chinux grabbed one of the small washcloths they
always kept close to the bed and cleaned them.
“I do. The research is great, but slowly restoring life to the island is even better. I really
look forward to having the forest back and having enough fields that we don’t have to buy
things on the mainland.” Bayar grinned.
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215
“I’m so proud of you.” Chinux leant down for another kiss.
“That goes both ways.” Bayar responded to the kiss with his whole body.
“Hmm.” He liked both ways. He liked it a whole lot.
About the Author
I’m a night owl who starts writing when everyone else in my time zone is asleep. I’ve
loved reading all my life and spent most of my childhood with my nose buried in a
book. Although I always wanted to be a writer, financial independence came first.
Twenty-some years and a successful business career later I took some online writing
classes and never looked back.
Living and working in seven countries has taught me that there’s more than one way
to get things done. It has instilled tremendous respect for the many different cultures,
beliefs, attitudes and preferences that exist on our planet.
I like exploring those differences in my stories, most of which happen to be romances.
My characters have a tendency to want to do their own thing, so I often have to rein
them back in. The one thing we all agree on is the desire for a happy ending.
I currently live in the United Kingdom, sharing my house with a vast collection of
books. I like reading, travelling, spending time with my nieces and listening to
classical music. I have a passion for science and learning new languages.
Serena loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and
author biography at
.
Also by Serena Yates
Men of Riverside: Finding Elliot
Men of Riverside: Rediscovering Adrian
Men of Riverside: Understanding Mark
Men of Riverside: Saving Zeke
Men of Riverside: Forgiving Jason
Men of Riverside: Loving Vicente
Scrolls of Vengeance: The Magic Thieves
New Horizons: Rescuing the Librarian
New Horizons: Discovering the Actor
New Horizons: Encouraging the Writer
New Horizons: Supporting the Director
New Horizons: Saving the Bodyguard
New Horizons: Noticing the Finance Manager
New Horizons: Developing the Counsellor
Mi Amore Collection: Max’s Italian Romance
Sins of Summer: Summer Escape
Stealing My Heart: The Magic Thieves
www.total-e-bound.com
Available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Sins of Summer
D.J. Manly, A.J. Llewellyn and Serena Yates
Released 1
st
August 2011
Excerpt
Chapter One
From the final pirouette to the grand jeté, Magda’s attention never wavered from the
scene in front of her eyes. It had been like watching a child surrounded by treats in a candy
store. It was all so good that in the end you would never really end up choosing.
Jas placed an arm around his older sister as they exited the theatre and walked out onto
Sixty-Third Street. Columbus Avenue was bustling tonight, the weather glorious—warm
with a subtle, soft breeze that prevented the heat from being oppressive.
The home of the New York City Ballet, the David H. Koch Theater, was one of three
theatres located on the over-sixteen-acre Lincoln Center Campus in the city’s west end.
Magda had always loved ballet but had never before had the chance to actually see one.
* * * *
In the early nineties, when the war over independence had erupted in Bosnia, Jas had
been only twelve years old. Magda had been sixteen. Given that Bosnia’s male children
seemed to have been more of a target than females, his parents had feared for Jas’ safety. At
the age of thirteen, his parents sent him to New York City to live with his father’s cousin,
Adel, and her family.
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It had been a tough decision for the family. The decision had not been made in haste,
and his parents had changed their minds several times about sending him to New York. Jas
remembered how angry he’d been at being sent away. He hadn’t wanted to leave his family.
The night before he’d actually left, his sister had sat up all night, quietly talking to him. She’d
convinced him that it was the right thing to do and that soon they’d all be together again.
A few years later, eight thousand boys had been murdered by Serbs, helping to turn the
tide of the war…and convincing his parents they had made the right choice in sending him
to America.
Adel had always felt badly that she couldn’t take in the entire family, but Jas’ father had
truly felt he had a duty to stay and help defend his homeland and wouldn’t have left
anyway.
His father had died in the conflict just before it was all over, and his sister—who had
written to him constantly, longing to come to America—had stayed behind to look after their
mother, whose health declined rapidly after their father was killed.
Finally, two years ago, his sister had arrived in America. After their mother had passed
away, they’d talked about it while Jas had been home for the service. Magda had been so
excited. She’d been learning English for a few years in preparation and they’d always spoken
English on the phone and exchanged emails in that language.
But when they’d seen each other at the airport five years later, Magda had spoken to
him in Bosnian. “Jasminko, zdravo, ja sam sretan sada.”
“English, English, sister. You are in America now…and I am happy too.” They’d held
on to each other for a long time—all of the memories and loss filling them both for a few
minutes—before they’d broken apart.
Jas had known things would be different now. Finally, Magda could leave the past
behind her, too—as he’d already done.
It had taken a while for his sister to be able to address him as Jas. He didn’t use
Jasminko anymore. It was too long a name and people had problems pronouncing it. Not to
mention, they always wanted to know what kind of a name that was. He’d have to explain
where he was from, and that brought up a past that he didn’t like talking about.
“You are so American,” his sister had said, laughing at him as he’d driven her home
from the airport that day.
She had been right, of course. He’d been in the US now for almost eighteen years. Many
things had changed in his life since he’d left Bosnia. His mother’s cousin had been an Adem.
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Her father had been the oldest in the family, and he’d always wanted Jas’ father to come with
him to America. His father, however, had been very proud of his homeland, always believing
he could have made it better. Jas couldn’t help thinking how different everything would
have been if his parents had taken Magda and came to America before he was born. Maybe
his parents would have been alive today.
His uncle had worked as a scientist in the American government. His wife had died in
childbirth and Adel, his daughter, had married an Irishman called Patrick O’Kelly. They had
two children, Harlan and Anne. Harlan, the elder of the two, had become a Catholic priest.
Jas was completely out of touch with his roots, and given the history, he’d never really
had the heart to reconnect. Aside from his older sister, his only family was the O’Kellys, and
they had been good to him. They treated him like one of their own, and the youngest, Anne,
thought of him as a brother. Anne had once told Jas that he was like her only brother because
Harlan was so difficult to get close to. Jas’ relationship with Anne hadn’t made him miss
Magda any less, but it had helped to ease the pain of their separation. Today, Anne was a
cop—as a kid, she’d always been a bit of a daredevil. They’d spent a lot of time together
doing nonsense.
Patrick and his twin brother, John, were partners in an industrial construction supply
business. Patrick had always been a little disappointed that Harlan, the only boy, didn’t share
his interest in the business and he hadn’t been that thrilled to see him enter the priesthood.
Pat was Catholic in name only, didn’t trust priests and was pretty vocal about it. It didn’t
help the rocky relationship he had with his son.
Jas, on the other hand, was fascinated with building. He had been as a boy, and by the
time he was sixteen, he’d been working summers for the O’Kelly brothers. They’d taught him
everything, and he’d paid his way through trade school and university that way. After Jas
graduated, he went to work full-time in the business. He’d been promised a partnership and
a chance to buy them out when they retired, which was definitely in his plans.
He loved his life. He’d bought a small house on the east side, twenty minutes from the
office, and had saved enough money to set his sister up in her own place when she was
ready and help her find a good job. He didn’t want her doing menial labour like some
immigrant women ended up doing—cleaning rich people’s houses or offices for shit wages.
* * * *
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The ballet tonight had been a celebration. It marked his sister’s graduation from college,
where she’d received a degree in secretarial sciences. In three weeks, she would take over for
Carol, their secretary at the office, who was about to retire. Carol had been wonderful to his
sister, helping Magda with her studies and allowing her to come to the office and observe,
even fill in for her some days.
Magda was ready and excited. In light of her new job, she’d found her own apartment.
Jas was happy, not that he’d minded her sharing his house…but it was time for both of them
to move on. She was really keen on fixing it up the way she wanted. And she had a
boyfriend—the older brother of Anne’s husband Tommy—who also worked on the police
force. Alex was a nice guy and really good to his sister. Tommy was a bit of a macho prick
but Anne kept him in line pretty well.
Everything was perfect tonight as he and his sister walked. The stars were so clear in
the sky and a cool breeze wafted around them off the river.
Alex was working the night shift, so Jas had taken advantage of the opportunity to go
to the ballet, surprising his sister with tickets. Lately, it was rare they could find the time to
spend together anymore, time when they were both free, but that spoke to the changes—the
good changes—that were happening in their lives. Before, Magda had only her school work
and that was it, so she could work around his schedule. Now she was busy shopping for
curtains, and thinking about what she’d need when the new job began. Not to mention Alex,
who took up a lot of her time.
“At least we’ll see each other at work,” Jas said, holding Magda’s hand. It was good to
see her so happy.
She smiled. “Yes. Every day, but we still need to make time for each other, Jasminko.”
Her smile faded suddenly. They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Jas saw tears in her
eyes.
“What is it?” Jas asked her, wiping them with his thumb. “Everything is good. You
have nothing to cry about.”
She looked at him, reached up and touched his dark hair. “It’s just that, you look so
much like Papa. He too was tall, and handsome. You’re my little brother. I worry. You work
too hard. You’re alone.”
He hugged her and laughed. “Oh, stop it. I love my job, and I’m going to love having
you at the office to boss around.”
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She gave him a shove. “I’m still your big sister. I’ll do the bossing. I changed your
diapers. Don’t forget that.”
He grinned and they resumed walking. The moonlight shimmered overhead. He
glanced at her, her long dark hair hanging free. She was wearing jeans and a nice blue
sweater. She looked like every other American girl.
“You need someone in your life, Jasminko.”
She was the only one who ever called him that anymore. There was still a hint of an
accent left when she said that name. It was the only thing he had left of home—the only thing
he wanted.
He’d had someone in his life for a little while but it hadn’t lasted. They’d wanted
different things. Jas wanted stability and someone to come home to, but he also wanted
passion—someone to ravish him and drive him mad with lust and desire. “I’m not in a
hurry.”
“You’ll get old and wrinkly,” she teased.
“I suppose.” Jas grinned. She knew he was gay and she’d always been okay with that.
He could talk to her about anything. His adoptive family knew it, too, but they didn’t talk
about it much. They accepted it as long as he didn’t wear it too loudly. He’d never been all
that flamboyant. He just was who he was, and that was it.
“The right one is just around the corner,” she said as they came to a stop.
His house was two blocks away. Her new apartment was one block in the opposite
direction. “I’ll walk you,” he said.
She fought him on it before finally giving in, always fiercely independent. “You’re just
like Alex. Think I can’t take care of myself, or what?”
Jas didn’t reply. They both knew that she could. She’d survived a war zone—she could
survive New York. They paused on the steps of her new building, a three-storey walk-up.
She’d got a fantastic deal on the rent after Jas had offered to give the owner a cut price on
some roofing supplies he needed. He hadn’t told Magda that. She was still surprised by how
expensive things were here.
She kissed him goodbye on the cheek. “Call you tomorrow, and thanks so much for the
ballet. It was wonderful.” She grinned and did a little whirl before climbing the steps,
turning back once to look at him from halfway up. “And I know you don’t like it,” she
accused.
Jas feigned surprise. “What? Don’t like ballet? Me?” He grinned at her.
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She giggled. “I think you fell asleep during the second act.”
He placed his hand on his heart, raised his chin. “You wound me,” he called out as he
began to back away.
“I love you anyway,” she called, her voice fading on the breeze as he crossed the street
and she disappeared from his sight.
That was the last time he ever saw his sister alive.
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