by Jerry Cole
But on the other hand, this felt like a sort of ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’ situation. Sure, he was free of Curly. And when he started his car up and took off down the road, he knew this to be truer than ever. But now he had Bradley to deal with. Somehow, that felt like it was going to be even worse. Maybe death wouldn’t have been such a bad thing...
Chapter Twenty-One
Bradley’s body shook for the entire drive back to his apartment; forty-five minutes of convulsions, perspiration and the feeling of his heart trying to escape his body it was beating that fast. When he did eventually pull up outside his place and turn the car off, he couldn’t believe he made it in one piece.
But that was also the least of his problems.
What the hell had just happened?! Like, Bradley knew what had happened. But... what the hell had just happened?!
He hadn’t really thought about it. At the time, he hadn’t really known what to think. He followed Sherman out to the middle of nowhere and watched in complete shock as his boyfriend participated in what could only be some sort of drug deal. When he saw it go down, he was rather far away, so he couldn’t tell how much Sherman was buying. He just hoped it wasn’t too much.
Well, he then followed Sherman even further out of town and watched from the safety of his car as two of the meanest looking guys he had ever seen in his life carried at least four large bricks of cocaine from the back of his car. It might have been more! Sherman, his boyfriend, his partner, the man he trusted with his life, was a drug mule.
When he saw that... a very large part of Bradley wanted to start the car up, drive back to his place and wait. He was angry, obviously. He was upset, clearly. He was a whole bunch of things that he was struggling to make clear to himself. Some serious alone time would be needed so he could assess what he saw, what it meant, and what he was going to do. Fuck, what could he do?
But then he became worried. Sherman disappeared down a long, dark alley and didn’t return. Bradley sat in his car for a few moments, wondering what he should do. Was this business as usual? Surely, Sherman would return.
The panic grew and before he knew what he was doing, Bradley was down that alley and listening at that door. He couldn’t hear anything but somehow... somehow, he just knew that something was wrong. Before he could stop to think, he was kicking that door open, channeling the character he’d been rehearsing for the last two months, and charging into the unknown like his life depended on it.
Well, it turned out that Sherman’s life might very well have depended on it. This should have come as some relief to Bradley, who might have been able to use this fact to soften the blow in regard to what he had just stumbled upon, what he had revealed his boyfriend to be doing. But it didn’t. And by the time he arrived back at his apartment, he was still no closer to calming down.
His entire body shook as he waited inside his apartment for Sherman. A small part of him hoped that Sherman might not show, that he’d go into hiding and thus give Bradley a little while longer to calm down. He needed it! But no. Bradley was in his apartment – basically an unused apartment – for all of one minute when Sherman came crawling in with his tail between his legs.
God, he looked pitiful too. His head was bowed, his body trembled and he hung back from Bradley as if he were an abusive partner who might lash out at any minute. Again, it did a little to make Bradley feel sorry for him... but it wasn’t enough.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” It was the first thing Bradley could think to say.
“I don’t know.” Sherman spoke softly and stared at his feet.
“That’s all you have to say?” Bradley clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, careful not to erupt. “Can’t think of anything else?”
“What else is there to say?” He stayed by the door, a solid ten feet from where Bradley was standing. It was a smart move really.
“How about what you were doing – what you were fucking thinking?!” That last word screamed itself out of Bradley, and he took a deep, calming breath again to try and recenter himself. “Do you know how dangerous that was?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, great! So, you knew and you did it anyway. You thought ‘what can I do today that might completely —”
“It wasn’t like that.” He still spoke down and to the floor.
“What was that?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then how was it? Please, tell me because I’m struggling here, Sherman. I really am.” He felt like a parent, scolding his child for skipping school or something silly and mundane like that.
“You know why.”
“Do I now? Could have fooled me.”
“You do.” Still soft and to the floor. Still refusing to even look at Bradley.
“I can guess. Should I guess?” He waited for a response, but when Sherman remained silent, Bradley powered on. “You lost your job during Covid. You were bored. You were restless. You couldn’t wait it out like everyone else in the whole God damn world had to, so you thought it might be fun to try your hand at drug smuggling? Why not? You’re rich, successful. What could really go wrong? A slap on the wrists... maybe?”
“That’s not...”
“What did you think was going to happen, Sherman? Fuck! Bikers! The Fucking Hades Angels! Are you serious – are you really that stupid?! I know you have a bit of a drug problem – I do. Yes, I’m very aware – I'm not an idiot. And I know you’ve had a hard time the last few months. I do. I really... but it doesn’t excuse it. It doesn’t —”
“You don’t know!”
It came out of nowhere. One minute, Sherman was looking down at his feet, acting like a mouse who was desperate not to be seen by the hungry cat a few paces away. The next minute his head was up, his eyes were narrowed, his expression venomous. Sherman came out of his cage.
“You don’t know anything! It’s been so easy for you! You don’t... You even... you’ve had nothing to worry about since you arrived! New apartment? It’s fine, Sherman will find that for me. No job? It’s fine, Sherman will pay for everything for me. Covid? It’s fine, all I have to do is ride it out and I’ll have a job waiting for me afterwards. You haven’t had to worry about a God damn thing!”
Bradley was speechless. But only for a moment. “Is that what you think it’s been like?” he clapped back. “I haven’t had to worry about – how do you think it’s been for me, having to babysit a man-child for the past three months? You think I like having to cook and clean for you? You think I enjoy —”
“Yes, I do.” Sherman was deep in the room now, although Bradley couldn’t remember how it happened. “You love that you have to cook for me, that I can’t do anything on my own. You love that you have all the power and I have none!”
“Oh, yeah,” he responded sarcastically. “I just wish you didn’t know how to wipe your ass. Then I could do that for you too.”
“How about paying your own rent? Can you do that?” Sherman tilted his head and looked at Bradley as if expecting an answer. Bradley didn’t even understand the point he was making. “Before you answer, I’ll tell you what to say. No, you can’t. I know that for fact.”
“Huh...” Bradley blinked. “What does that —”
“Two-hundred a week?! Are you really that fucking stupid! Oh wait, you must be! Either that or you were happy to ignore it while I paid through the mouth for you to live here!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I pay your rent!” Sherman screamed. “Me! That lovely fucking apartment you live in – this one!” He gestured to the practically unlived in apartment. “It costs four-hundred and fifty a week. Not two hundred! I organized to pay the difference for you so you could live here – me! I did it! While you were locked away in that study, reading lines, I was bleeding through my wallet for you? And for what? So, you could look down your nose at me and feel big? Is that why? So please, don’t act like I’m some sort of charity case. We both know that’s not true.”
“You... you were paying...” Bradley didn’t know what to say. He’d had no idea that Sherman was doing that.
“Of course I was,” he sneered. “It was that or you’d be living in a fucking ditch somewhere trying to ‘make it’ as an actor. It’s easy to make it, isn’t it? When you have someone else footing the bills.”
Now it was Bradley’s turn to look down at his feet. He even took a small step back, as if putting that extra little bit of distance between he and Sherman might make some sort of difference. Unlike with Sherman earlier though, Bradley wasn’t staring at his feet because he was embarrassed or ashamed. It was because he couldn’t stand to look at the man any longer.
Since the day that Sherman had revealed how much money he actually made, he’d deigned to flaunt it in front of Bradley. In Europe, Bradley was fine with this. He was a different man back then and only too happy to be doted on in such a lavish way. In Bali too, it had been a little harder to stomach, but he’d put up with it because it had made Sherman happy.
But this was different. This was... if there was one thing that annoyed Bradley more than anything, it was Sherman using his wealth to assert his power over him. It made him feel weak and small and powerless in their relationship. It made Bradley feel as if he owed Sherman his love. Since Covid, Bradley had assumed things had changed, especially seeing as Sherman stopped working. It seemed as if nothing had changed.
The drugs, Bradley could handle. The attitude, he could deal with. Even the moping, and self-pity, and the self-victimization was something that Bradley would have been willing to work through with Sherman because he knew that it was just a phase. But this? This was a pill far too bitter for Bradley to swallow.
“I think you should leave.” He spoke softly and into his chest, refusing to look at Sherman.
“Kicking me out of my own apartment?” Sherman scoffed. “At least half of it, anyway.”
“I think you should leave,” Bradley spoke again, just as softly.
“I think that’s a good idea.” Sherman turned and started across the room and toward the front door. Bradley could hear his footsteps but didn’t look up. When he reached the door, and it opened, Bradley heard him come to a stop before he said, “You’re mad at me. But when you’re tucked in tonight, warm and safe with a roof over your head. Please remember who put it there.” The door slammed closed and he was gone.
And as for Bradley? When Sherman was finally gone, and he was alone in the apartment for good? He collapsed on the floor and wept. He might have done so for an hour. It might have lasted well into the night. He had no idea, and he didn’t care either.
Bradley had never hurt so much before in his life.
***
The first night in that apartment, alone, was impossible.
It just didn’t feel right. The apartment, that is. It was cold, and empty and had the feeling of never being lived in. Bradley tried to tell himself that he was in the right, that he had to stay put until Sherman called and apologized for all he had done... but that apartment made it tough.
Forget trying to sleep. Bradley didn’t even like turning all the lights off. Doing so only seemed to emphasize how empty the apartment was. He felt like a stranger in his own place.
But he refused to call Sherman. That, he simply could not do. Sherman was the one in the wrong. Sherman was the one who paid his rent without telling him. Sherman was the one who then used that to try and bring Bradley down. And worst of all, Sherman was the one who had resorted to drug smuggling as a means to support his habit. It was all Sherman, so it was on him to apologize.
After that first night, Bradley knew he couldn’t stay in that apartment for any longer. But Sherman was also being frustratingly stubborn, clearly expecting Bradley to be the one to come crawling back. It was typical, controlling Sherman at his best. Well, not today!
It was lucky then that the state borders had recently opened back up, with the Covid lockdown restrictions easing. For the first time in months, Bradley was able to fly back to Melbourne, his first home. And so, he did.
“My gorgeous baby boy!” The moment Bradley walked through the front door to his mother’s house, she had him in a bear hug the likes of which he hadn’t had since, well, the last time he saw her.
“Csbt brjfnvgth!” Bradley tried, although the way his mother held him made speaking nearly impossible.
“What was that dear?”
The moment she released him, Bradley took a huge breath of fresh air. “Can’t... breath...” he managed through large gulps of air.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” She waved Bradley down and rolled her eyes at him as if she wasn’t well over six foot in height and weighed nearly twice as much as him... which she did. “But I am glad you’re back – not that you gave me much warning, mind you!”
With his mother calming down and taking a step back, Bradley was able to look around his old house for the first time in months. He had wondered what it would feel like, coming back like this. If it would feel odd, or not like home.
“It’s good to be back,” he said. And it was the truth too.
Sherman was an infinitely stubborn man. Even more so than Bradley. It might take him days to finally cough up the nerve and reach out to Bradley. It might even take him a week! If Bradley was going to be waiting that long, he might as well do it at home.
So, the morning after their fight, Bradley packed a single suitcase – truth be told, he could barely even fill it as almost all his things were at Sherman’s — bought the first flight he could get on to Melbourne, gave his mother a very brief call, and flew home.
“So, how long are you back for?” his mother asked as she herded him through the house and toward his old bedroom. As was typical of her, she carried his suitcase, lifting it under her arm like it were nothing.
“Why? Have the room booked out to someone else, do you?”
“Just asking!” she cried and then slapped at Bradley’s arm. “I’m your mother. I worry. Popping down out of nowhere like this.”
“There’s nothing to worry about, mom. The borders opened suddenly so I thought I’d come down is all – fucking Covid, they’ll probably close them again next week. You know.” Bradley had to channel his deepest acting ability to make that one sound remotely believable. And even still, the look his mother fixed him with as he hurriedly stepped into his old bedroom suggested she wasn’t buying it either.
She loitered by the bedroom door, looking the scene over with a sense of nostalgia. The suitcase was still tucked under her arm. “Well... dinner is the usual time.”
“Mom?” Bradley indicated the suitcase.
“Oh!” His mother rolled her eyes and dropped the suitcase. “What did you pack? A single shirt?”
Bradley shrugged. “There wasn’t much at my place to pack. It’s all at... yeah.” He trailed off, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He hadn’t told his mother why he was back yet. Not that he needed to with her.
Rarely, was Bradley’s mother a quiet woman. It was said that even the neighbors could hear her snoring, and it was after roughly the third cat ran away from sheer fright that they decided to stop buying them. But in this moment, she offered a rare moment of tranquility.
She looked at her son with a sense of sadness and empathy; a mother desperately wanting to hug the pain out of her son, but knowing that was all but impossible. “It doesn’t need to be said, but you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”
“Thanks, mom.” Bradley felt a tear coming, but was quick to wipe it away. “Shouldn’t be long.” Fuck, he hoped so. He needed it to be so.
Sherman needed to come to Bradley. He needed to reach out, apologize, ask for forgiveness. It had to be him. For their entire relationship, Sherman had relished in his status as breadwinner, lauding his money over Bradley like it was something to be worshipped. Worse too that he used that money to manipulate Bradley, with the holidays, with the apartment, with everything really.
No, Sherman had to prove to Bradley that he
saw him as an equal, as someone to fight for. Therefore, Sherman had to come to Bradley.
There was just one burning question, and it hung over Bradley’s head long after his mother left him and started cooking dinner. It was like a smoke cloud, the way it filled the room and seemed to suffocate. It wouldn’t go away, no matter how much Bradley tried.
And the question: Was Sherman even going to call? Did he even have it in him to apologize? Did he like Bradley that much? Honestly, Bradley wasn’t sure. He just had to hope.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It had been seven days. Seven long, agonizing, excruciating days, and Sherman didn’t know if he could last much longer. Fuck, he didn’t know if his relationship could last much longer.
The first day was probably the easiest. That day, he’d been full of rage and anger and hate and a whole host of other nasty things he didn’t want to think about anymore. At the time, Sherman had relished in the spiteful fury that raged inside him. He stormed the apartment, he smashed things, he cursed out loud, he punched pillows, kicked sofas and wrung his hands in the air like he was a movie villain. It had felt good.
Now though, he felt sick whenever he remembered that day. The awful things that had gone through his head, all directed at Bradley, were too terrible to even consider repeating.
The next three days were spent in a state of uninterrupted anguish. Sherman had no job. He had few friends. And most of all, he had nowhere to be. So, he parked himself on the couch, lined up every single rom-com film that he could find, and watched them back-to-back. For sustenance, he ordered in. And that was really the only time he left the couch.
All the while too, he made sure to have his phone in sight, waiting for the call.
Surely, Bradley was going to call? Surely, it was on him to call?! He was the one that had been spying on Sherman after all. He was the one that went back to his own apartment, as if stating outright that he was moving out. This was on him.
Also, and not to harp on about it too much, but Bradley did sort of owe him. He had paid for half his rent... and covered his moving fees... and there was that holiday in Bali... and a whole host of other expenses also. What? Was Sherman supposed to apologize for all that too?
