by Jerry Cole
“How did I get so lucky?” Sherman marveled the first morning – although it was in fact midday – as Bradley whipped the two up an omelet each.
“You didn’t,” Bradley joked as he whisked the eggs in a bowl. He was completely naked as he did this; there was no need to put clothes on seeing as they were the only two in the apartment. Sherman had no complaints. “I’m assuming this is all a dream and you’ll wake up soon.”
“Well, be a lamb and finish up those eggs before I do. I’m starving and want a taste.”
This was how it went down for that first week. Every single day. Once the two men saw fit to pull themselves from bed, they marched to the kitchen where Bradley fixed them a late breakfast. While Bradley cooked, Sherman watched and peppered in compliments when he could, and then the two ate happily.
Seriously, it was that first morning as the two men were eating across from each other that Sherman truly appreciated how lucky he was. Even without the personal chef at his disposal, the fact that he had Bradley here living with him for at least two months was... well, like Bradley had said, it was a dream. Now Sherman just had to hope he never woke up.
After breakfast, the two men took a little time to themselves. For Bradley, this meant rehearsals in the reading room. He would disappear in there by himself for an hour or so and work through his lines. Sherman tried to sneak in and watch him the first day, but was ordered out of the room.
So as this was going on, Sherman spent the time working on what his moves would be after Covid went away... or rather, that’s what he was meant to be doing. DreamLine Travel was in the toilet and it would take a miracle to revive it. Unfortunately too, it was up to Sherman to work that miracle. The first morning he sat down, opened his laptop, was going to start working on the problem... but then balked. He had two months, so no need to start right away.
The next day was the same, and the one after that. By the fourth day of lockdown, he actually got as far as answering emails and looking over budget reports. He had to find a way to save DreamLine Travel as much money as possible, without giving himself a huge pay cut. But when he started crunching the numbers his head hurt.... so, he decided to save it for week two. This was the first week after all, so really it was a freebie.
Once Bradley was done with his rehearsals the two men would meet up again. Often this was in the kitchen for snacks, sometimes they went right to the liquor cabinet and began drinking early, or maybe they would just settle in front of the television and prepare themselves for a night of binging? That first week, anything was possible and seeing as they had all the time in the world, there was never a rush or any sense that they were wasting time. That was impossible.
And then night would come. Every night of that first week they retired to bed early, knowing that they wouldn’t be getting any sleep for hours. All they seemed to do was fuck. Sherman didn’t know if it was the boredom of lockdown, the excitement of living together finally, or just the raw attraction the two men felt toward one another, but for that first week they could not keep their hands off!
Sleep came eventually, as it always did. And as always, it was Bradley acting the big spoon, wrapping Sherman in his arms and holding him tight as the two men drifted off into a deep slumber. It was heaven.
When lockdown had first been announced, even Sherman had wondered if it actually would be a good idea to ask Bradley to move in with him. They hadn't been dating that long and two months of non-stop contact might ruin them. But he had gone with his gut instinct and insisted that he move in. It was the right choice he knew, and getting Bradley to agree was all that mattered.
Well, now Bradley was locked in with him and after that first week of spending time only with one another, Sherman knew he had made the right choice. By the time this lockdown was over, there was not a chance that the two lovers wouldn’t be closer than ever. Maybe Covid would end up being a good thing? It sure seemed that way.
But that was also the first week, the honeymoon period as it were. After that, when the true effects of lockdown started to be felt, that’s when things began to fall apart...
Chapter Seventeen
It was exactly one month into lockdown and things were not going well for Bradley and Sherman. Not one little bit.
It started every morning, when Bradley’s alarm went off. After the first week of lockdown, he had gotten into the habit of setting an alarm, lest he spend literally all morning in bed like a great big slug. Sure, that first week it was fine and even a little bit of fun, but Bradley wasn’t going to put his life on hold because he couldn’t leave the house. That would be ridiculous.
His alarm went off at 8AM and that was when the drama started.
“Turn it off!” Sherman moaned jokingly into his pillow. He then rolled over and reached for Bradley who was now turning the alarm off. “Buuuuuut seeing as we’re up —”
“Not today,” Bradley said. He slapped Sherman’s hand away and went to climb from bed.
“Come on,” Sherman moaned. His hands slipped forward and reached for Bradley’s cock. “What else are you going to do?”
“Ah, work?” Bradley was on his feet, but still forced to fight Sherman back.
“How about I work on that cock?”
It was such a little thing, and Bradley knew he was being silly getting annoyed by it, but every single morning they had the same exchange. Sometimes it worked too, when Bradley was in the mood. But sometimes it didn’t, and when it didn’t, Sherman acted annoyed and childish and like only his time – of which he had plenty – was what mattered.
The problem wasn’t Sherman’s lustrous appetite. It was the fact that he had nothing to do, so he assumed that Bradley was the same. Lockdown for him was a holiday and he just assumed that it was the same for Bradley. Well, it wasn’t.
Once Bradley was up, he hurriedly showered and then rushed into the kitchen to make breakfast. This was where the second problem arose. As he moved through the kitchen like an expert – he basically was by now – he heard Sherman slowly climbing from bed, showering and getting ready... although for Sherman, getting ready simply meant changing which sweatpants he was going to wear all day. And all the while, Bradley would be hard at work cooking for two.
As always too, as if it were on purpose, Sherman appeared in the doorway just as breakfast was being plated. Today, Bradley was actually in a slight rush by his usual standards, so he only had time to make scrambled eggs.
“Just eggs?” Sherman moaned in what he probably assumed was a playful manner. “We had these yesterday.”
“And you probably will tomorrow,” Bradley responded idly. He wasn’t paying his boyfriend attention, because he knew that if he did, he’d get mad. Rather, he sat down across from him at the kitchen bench and proceeded to eat his eggs in silence... or at least he tried.
“Whhyyyyyy?” Sherman complained playfully. “Oh! What about omelets – remember that one you made on the first day? I still dream about —”
“You can make it,” Bradley cut in while staring at his plate full of eggs.
“Me?” Sherman acted shocked and appalled. “There’s more chance of the sky falling.”
“If only,” Bradley muttered under his breath.
Today’s was a particularly bitter exchange compared to usual. Ordinarily, Bradley was willing to either play along with Sherman’s complaints, or ignore them entirely. But today... well, it was starting to get on his nerves.
Sherman didn’t cook. Like, ever. Not once since lockdown had started had Sherman so much as heated a pan on the stove, let alone actually make himself a meal. It was insane! And it wasn’t that he didn’t know how to either. It was just that he didn’t have the inclination. Since his mid-twenties, Sherman had hired a housekeeper to do that for him and since then he’d just kind of forgotten the process. When lockdown started, Bradley was more than happy to do the cooking, but under the assumption that Sherman would eventually pick-up the slack in due time. That time never came.
This laziness e
xtended to the house chores too. Bradley cooked and cleaned. He did the laundry, he mopped the floors, he scrubbed the shower. He was basically the apartment’s housekeeper, he worked on it so often. And as for Sherman? Nothing.
Worse too that when Bradley did bring this up about a week earlier, Sherman shrugged it off and even made the ‘joke,’ “At least your rent is free.” Bradley had to bite his tongue so hard he nearly tore it off.
Needless to say, when breakfast was done, Bradley was gone from that kitchen before Sherman had a chance to even hint that he wanted to hang out today and that Bradley should just drop what he was doing. He tried it most days now, and that – along with most things – was really starting to wear at Bradley.
The next several hours were always the best in Bradley’s day. In lockdown it was important to find a way to keep busy and pass the hours, lest one lose their mind. Some people worked from home. Some binged every show in existence. And some, like Bradley, worked on passion projects which they hoped would amount to something once this terrible time was over.
Just before lockdown started, Bradley had auditioned for a TV show called Firing Day. Well, the good news was that he’d landed the role. That’s right, Bradley, the previously struggling actor was now officially a part of a TV show. And not just a part of it, but the lead! It was surreal. It was unreal. It was unbelievable. It was... it was everything!
There was one slight catch though, and it was one that was hard to get over: the role wasn’t technically official until lockdown ended. And that was assuming that once lockdown ended, things got back to normal.
“What are the chances?” Bradley had asked his agent when she’d called him with the good news. That was week two of lockdown, a time that seemed an age ago.
“Pretty high,” she had assured him... while sounding like she wasn’t sure at all.
“That’s not an answer,” Bradley had complained.
“It’s the best you’re going to get – the studio is keen. They are. Honestly, it just depends on this Covid crap. If production picks up after lockdown, I assure you that Firing Day will go full steam ahead.”
Bradley had sighed loud enough for her to hear through the phone. “Well... what am I supposed to do until then?”
“Rehearse, babe. You’re an actor.”
And so, that’s what Bradley was doing. Every day from roughly 9:30am through to 3PM – and sometimes longer – he locked himself away in the reading room and read lines. He read lines and acted them. He acted lines and he improvised more. He watched other cop shows with similar characters, he watched other shows and movies with characters he wanted to mimic or steal from or feel inspiration from. He read and reread the scripts he was sent and the notes from the producers and literally everything he could! When lockdown was over, when production picked on up, Bradley would be as ready as humanly possible.
Truth be told, he was rather impressed with himself. This was a work ethic that a younger version of himself would have never imaged possible. Yet here he was. And when considering the fact it was all during COVID... well, that just made the whole thing more impressive.
It was a shame then that Sherman couldn’t share in his enthusiasm.
Again, Sherman was a huge problem here and in all reality, this was where the majority of the tension that hung between the two men started and finished. One would think that Sherman would be happy for Bradley. One would think that he would encourage him, egg him on, push him to keep going no matter the cost. Unfortunately, it was the complete opposite.
“So... it might not even happen?” Sherman had asked a week after Bradley had gotten the good news. He’d been rehearsing every day and it had started to frustrate Sherman.
“What kind of thing is that to say?”
“I’m just saying!” Sherman had held his hands up in defense. “What if it falls through?”
“What if it doesn’t.”
“I feel like my thing is more likely.”
“Thanks, Sherman. Big thanks.”
The week after that was even worse.
“I don’t know why you’re wasting your time locked away in there, when you could be with me,” Sherman had complained as the two crawled into bed. “I’m booooored.”
“How is that my fault?” Bradley had countered. “I need to practice – and don’t say it’s pointless, please. I don’t need to hear that now.”
“All right,” Sherman had started carefully. “Even though it is.”
“Sherman!”
“What?” Again, hands held up in defense. This time though he turned on the puppy dog eyes, as if he was the victim. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, babe. That’s all. I worry about you.”
“How kind.”
It got worse every day. Truly, it did. It was so bad that Bradley now had to brace himself each afternoon as he exited the reading room. He knew that Sherman was going to say something snarky or derogative, and he just had to prepare himself mentally so that he didn’t snap. That wouldn’t help anyone.
And sure enough, as Bradley exited the study room that afternoon at exactly 3:12PM, he heard Sherman hop up from the couch – his favorite spot – and rush to meet him at the door like a puppy waiting for his master to come home from work.
“Save the world yet?” he asked, eyes wide and smile large and excited.
“Huh?” Bradley balked. He had no idea what that meant.
“Surely that’s what you’re doing in there?” he continued, looking mighty pleased with himself as he did. “What else could be taking so long.”
“Oh...” Bradley deliberately rolled his eyes. “Funny.” He then stepped around his boyfriend and headed for the kitchen.
“What?” Sherman called out after him. “That was funny! Come on!”
Sherman hadn’t always been like this. In fact, the first two weeks of lockdown had been kind of wonderful. That first week was almost a holiday in the way the two men treated it. It was nothing but sex, eating and more sex. It was magical in every conceivable ideal and even now, Bradley could barely believe such a perfect time existed.
Even the second week had started out really well. When Bradley had first heard about the role, Sherman had been beyond congratulatory, and it was he who had suggested the reading room be used for practice. But then he got a phone call that changed everything...
Bradley could still remember the day that call came through. It had been no different to the last twelve; he and Sherman were still riding a high despite all the time they were spending together. Then Bradley heard the phone ring. He continued to practice while listening to Sherman’s voice slowly rise and spin out of control. When the phone call ended, Bradley walked out to ask what the call was about... only to stop and gape at what he saw.
Sherman was deep into his bag of cocaine. He must have thought that Bradley would still be practicing, so he could get away with it. But he had clearly misjudged his boyfriend to the point where he thought it would be all right to rack lines at two in the afternoon.
“What are you doing?” Bradley had asked gingerly, careful not to set Sherman off.
“Oh — nothing!” Sherman had tried to hide the cocaine by wiping it off the table and onto the floor. It was hundreds of dollars washed away like it was nothing. “Nothing at all – hey. Why aren’t you in your room prac —”
“Seriously?” Bradley had stood his ground. He crossed his arms, he fixed Sherman with a no-nonsense glare. He had looked the other way every single time Sherman was caught red-handed like this. He wouldn’t do that anymore. “It’s two in the afternoon, Sherman. This is – it’s fucked. And gross. And to be honest, it’s a little —”
“My work fired me.” Sherman collapsed on the ground in a heap and from there... well, it was kind of hard to stay mad at him.
It took another thirty minutes to get more out of Sherman, but ultimately Bradley didn’t need to. Those first four words spoken contained all the information he needed. Sherman’s work was going under. They needed to save m
oney. The best way to save money was to fire the higher-ups, the ones that made a little too much. Sherman was at the top of that list and seeing as he was the one that pushed the Single’s Tour and organized the purchase of the recent cruise ships, his head was the first one on the block.
“It’s not fair!” Sherman wailed from the floor.
“I know,” Bradley had assured him.
“After all I’ve done for them!” he had continued miserably.
“It’s sucks. It fucking... I’m sorry.” Bradley held him and rubbed his back.
“What am I going to do now?” he had finished with a snotty nose and red, swollen cheeks from crying.
“We’ll figure something out.”
Panicking wasn’t an option. It helped too that Sherman had been paid a sort of ‘covid bonus’ when he was first ordered home for lockdown. It had been an obscene amount of money meant to assure him that things weren’t going off the rails. Now it looked as if it was just a way to keep him quiet.
That was well over a month ago now and they still hadn’t ‘figured things out.’ The opposite was true in fact, as a result of this constant period of stasis, Sherman had become close to unbearable. Bradley tried to remind himself it wasn’t his fault, that it was lockdown, that when it was over Sherman would get himself back on his feet, that this was only temporary. But it was hard. So fucking hard!
And sadly enough, inevitably enough, it all came to a head an hour before dinner when Bradley was in the kitchen, making spaghetti for the two men to eat later. It was a simple meal, because Bradley wasn’t in the mood for extravagance. He was tired. He was hungry. He just wanted to cook, eat, relax and go to bed. And then Sherman waltzed into the kitchen.
“Oh, goodie!” he beamed at the site of the red pasta sauce on the stove top. “Pasta again. I cannot wait!” His eyes were a little too wide, his smile a little too large and his leg vibrated uncontrollably on the spot.
