by Onley James
XO Calder
He scrawled his number along the bottom, then stared at the XO. Why had he done that? This kid was a Jedi, playing mind games with Calder. He slipped back into the boy’s darkened bedroom and set the note on the side table, hesitating before he dropped a kiss on the boy’s slightly gaping mouth.
Calder replayed their shower on repeat the entire ride home. It shouldn’t have affected him like it had. It was just one fumbling handjob. He’d been with countless men and women who knew tricks that would make porn stars jealous. Hell, he’d even been with an actual porn star once or twice. But the way Robby had gazed up at him, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he’d worked Calder’s cock, laser focused on what Calder liked and what made him moan… It was like the kid was trying for an A plus. He’d earned it. Calder’s orgasm had ripped through his body like lightning, leaving him drained and shaken.
Part of him knew it wasn’t the technique but the boy, but that part of him needed to shut the fuck up. There was no room in his life for somebody like Robby. That boy was so desperate for love that it practically oozed from his pores. He needed somebody who could give him constant praise, constant attention, could wrap him up and be the safety net he clearly needed. That wasn’t Calder. It couldn’t be. Calder couldn’t be that person for him, for anybody. He’d proven that a long time ago.
Once inside his small apartment, he tried to shake off the nagging feeling tugging at his insides. He went to the fridge and cracked a beer before heading into what would be the dining room for most people. He flipped on the lights and set a new canvas on the easel before pulling his hair back up and off his face. He slipped his phone from his pocket to turn on his music but paused when he saw he had a new voicemail. He keyed up his messages and sat on top of the old butcher block table that subbed as his desk.
“Mr. Seton, this is Ginger at Vista Palms Funeral Home. We’ve been trying to reach you for several weeks regarding the remains of—”
Calder hit the button to delete the message and picked up his beer, draining half in one swallow before he pulled up his classic rock playlist and cranked it up as loud as he could. Mrs. Leighton across the hall was deaf as a post and the apartment below him had sat empty for months. His music wouldn’t bother anybody, but maybe it would drive the memories from his head.
He skipped his paints, instead grabbing a charcoal pencil, roughly sketching an outline of a boy with a sharp jawline, wide almond-shaped hazel eyes, and swoopy caramel-colored hair. Maybe he could draw the boy out of his system, pour his need onto the canvas, and then burn it. Even the thought of burning the boy’s face sent a pang through him. This kid was so deep under his skin and they’d only ever interacted twice. It didn’t make any sense. Calder didn’t form attachments. Not to anybody. Not anymore.
After he’d constructed a rough sketch, he switched to his paints, losing himself in the broad strokes and the minute details, anything to keep from thinking about the real boy whose likeness he created or the task he’d been putting off for weeks. He found himself mixing brown and green and gold to try to create Robby’s eyes, layering each one onto the canvas until the boy on the canvas stared back at Calder with the same wide-eyed expression he’d worn just before they’d showered together. That look was like a punch to the gut, and Calder immediately wanted to cover it up.
It was early morning before Calder considered the painting done. If he’d hoped to excise Robby from his brain, the project was an epic failure. He cleaned up the space and washed his hands in the sink before throwing a microwave burrito in to cook. Linc needed to find a job for him soon or he was going to go crazy. He couldn’t stay cooped up in this apartment, but he had no interest in going out since Carley had called with the news.
He ate his burrito in front of the television, staring at the blackened screen as if it might contain the answers he sought. He needed to do it. He needed to go pick up her ashes and do…something…with them. He didn’t know what. He’d hardly known her, not really. He hadn’t known her as a person. Would she want her ashes scattered along the ocean waves? Would she want to be sprinkled in a forest somewhere? Hell, maybe she wanted to be a tree? He didn’t know and the not knowing was what left him paralyzed, unable to pick up the phone, refusing to return their calls. If he just ignored them, maybe they’d go away. What did it matter in the long run? In the end, she was just a pile of dust in a cardboard box.
He finished off his burrito and his third beer and got ready for bed, hoping that the food and alcohol would be just enough to make him sleep. It wasn’t. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering if Robby had woken up hours ago and found Calder had crept out like a jerk or if he was still sleeping soundly after his rough night and mutual orgasms.
Calder slid his hand into his black cotton pants, his fist gripping his cock as he thought about Robby and their brief time together. The whimper he’d made when Calder kissed him. How he’d gripped Calder’s shirt when he slid his thumbs over his hips. He was so fucking gorgeous. Everything about him was bright and vibrant. He just radiated this energy, even after everything he’d been through, and Calder wanted to bathe in it, wanted to see Robby discovering what he liked and what he didn’t, wanted to feel him coming apart beneath him, wanted to be the one who worked him open and showed his body how to yield to Calder’s invasion. He’d never been anybody’s first anything, but the idea of being Robby’s first had him coming hard, a hoarse shout penetrating the silence of his room.
He lay there, panting, cum cooling on his skin and his pants sticking to him uncomfortably, wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. It was clearly just the stress of the phone call. His past coming back to bite him in the ass. He’d been better off when all he’d had to do was send a check every month. He hadn’t signed on for funerals or burials. That was for the old Calder, the responsible Calder. The ranger Calder.
That Calder was dead.
This Calder lived free of commitments and responsibilities, fucked like a rock star, and screwed up as much as possible. He liked being this Calder. He needed to be this Calder. It was the only way for him to stay sane.
“So, you jerked each other off, and then he snuck out in the middle of the night. Hate to say I told you so…” Charlie said, scratching her nails along Robby’s scalp before she took another sip of her wine.
Robby’s head swam from too much merlot. He didn’t know what was more disturbing, how comfortable he was around Charlie and Wyatt or the fact that Charlie wasn’t talking to Robby when she said ‘I told you so.’ That comment she aimed at Wyatt who sat opposite her at the other end of Robby’s sofa.
Wyatt scoffed. “What do you mean? It totally worked.”
“How?” Charlie all but shrieked. “All our sweet baby gay got was a handjob and heartache.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m heartbroken—” Robby started only to be cut off once again by Wyatt.
“Exhibit A,” Wyatt crowed, waving the paper towel Calder had left behind. “He put his personal phone number, not his work phone.”
Charlie waved her wine glass precariously over Robby’s head, her words slurring. “Okay, that’s flimsy at best.”
“I’m not done. We also have this.” Wyatt stabbed at the paper where Calder had scrawled XO.
Robby’s heart tripped in his chest. He’d folded and refolded the paper towel enough for it to look battered even though it was only three days old. It was the XO that had thrown Robby too. What did it mean? Did it mean anything? It was hard to know.
Charlie blew out a breath through her nose. “Okay, that is…odd. I’ll give you that. But still, something spooked him.” She turned an accusatory gaze towards Robby. “Did you do something clingy? Did you cry or say ‘I love you’?”
Robby swung himself into a sitting position, the world tilting on its axis. “What? No. I didn’t do anything… I mean, I don’t think I did. We did…what we did, and then he just dried us off and tucked me in and told me to get some sleep. Then he crawled in beside me. I
fell asleep. When I woke up, he was gone and this”—he plucked the note from Wyatt’s fingers, refolding it carefully—“was on the bedside table.” He sighed. “He even fed Cas before he left.”
Wyatt and Charlie exchanged glances.
“Will you two stop doing that?” Robby snapped. “It’s creepy. What is going on?”
Charlie refilled Robby’s wine glass and handed it to him. “Drink,” she commanded.
He did as he was told, annoyed with himself for giving in to her so easily. When he’d drained half his glass, she seemed satisfied. “Okay, so we just think that Calder needs to settle down. His horndog ways are fucking with Linc’s business, which puts Linc in a bad mood, which fucks with Wyatt’s getting laid on the regular.”
Robby blinked at Charlie. “What?”
She rolled her eyes as if Robby was dense. “Calder needs to settle down with someone, and the only person who can tame a manwhore is a virgin and of-age virgins are like unicorns.”
“The virgin being you,” Wyatt supplied.
Robby felt himself sulking. “What makes you two think I’m a virgin?”
Charlie gave him a pitying gaze. “Oh, sweetie. If we were villagers, you’d be the first one we’d chuck into a volcano to appease the gods.”
“Wow. Am I that obvious?”
“Well, yes. But that’s a good thing. You’re a unicorn. Now you get to offer up your virginity to Calder in exchange for living happily ever after together. That’s a good thing. I mean, a guy who’s fucked as many people as he has must be aces in bed. Why bother with some sad little dweeb who wouldn’t know your ass from your elbow?”
Robby’s face was in flames, but he didn’t know if it was the alcohol or humiliation. He tried to focus, but his head was full of bees. “So, you guys dangled me in front of him like a piece of meat ‘cause you thought…what? He was going to fall in love with me? You bet on the wrong version…er, virgin. I’m invisible to guys. They just look right through me.”
Robby bit down on his lip to keep from confessing any more of his secret insecurities.
Wyatt scoffed. “Calm down, Mr. Cellophane.”
Charlie shook her head, her wine sloshing dangerously close to the top of her goblet. “Nope. No way. Calder was all over you. He zeroed in on you so fast it was like he could smell your virginity.”
“Gross,” Robby muttered, still not really buying that somehow he was the one Calder wanted. If that was true, why hadn’t he called? “It doesn’t matter anyway. It didn’t work. I’m still a vers-vers-I’m still volcano bait. He prob-a-ly just felt sorry for me. My tongue’s not working,” he confessed. “I’m sleepy.”
Charlie ignored him. “We just need to keep putting you in his path. Like, he can’t resist those big doe eyes and your gorgeous face forever. Not to mention your ass.”
“Shh,” Robby said, pushing his finger against her lips. “Don’t mention it.”
Wyatt snickered. “I think you got him wasted. We should go.”
Was he wasted? Probably. His head buzzed and his tongue felt like a spongy sour grape and his limbs were heavy in a not unpleasant way. He’d hoped Charlie and Wyatt would take his mind off of Calder, but instead his whole night was just one big Calder-fest. Calder. Calder. Calder. Robby couldn’t even get a total manwhore to fuck him. He was pathetic.
“No,” Charlie cried. “We need to plot a plan or plan a plot. What am I saying?”
“Beats me, Dr. Seuss,” Wyatt muttered.
“We need to plan a plot to get Robby inside Calder’s world, so he can get inside Robby’s ass,” she said before erupting into a fit of giggles.
Wyatt stood. “Okay, that’s enough for tonight. I’m getting really tired of being the sober friend.”
Charlie sputtered, spraying Robby with saliva. “That’s not my fault. Lincoln log said you lost your drinking priv-privadges when you were doing stupid stuff, like cutting yourself. I don’t have any rules, and I like it that way. But this isn’t ‘bout us. This is ‘bout Robby. Oh, and Calder. We need to get them together. Ooh. Ooh. Project. Let’s make up a stalker. Robby can hire Calder, and then he’ll fall in love with him. We can teach Robby how to seduce him. Yeah. Let’s do that!”
Robby stared at Charlie in horror. “No. No way.”
“It’s perfect,” she cried. “You can be all like, ‘Oh, Calder. I’m so scared. Come sleep in my bed and keep me company.’”
Wyatt got to his feet. “Yeah, okay. That’s enough out of you. I called us an Uber. They’ll be downstairs in five. Let’s go.”
Robby watched them leave before lying back down on the couch. He attempted to put his wine glass back on the table but missed. The glass didn’t break but it spilled. He rolled onto his stomach to watch the wine spread across the hardwood floors. He should probably clean it up, but he was just too tired.
It was a strange sound that woke him, like somebody popping the seal on a vacuum. He forced his eyes open, even though his lids felt weighted. He frowned into the darkness. It wasn’t dark when he’d fallen asleep. He heaved himself upright, stomach sloshing and head pounding. He needed water. Water and a thousand aspirin. He had to stop drinking. It never ended well for him. He only prayed he didn’t wake up with another tattoo. Drunk him loved tattoos…and honesty. Never a good combination.
A high-pitched whimper came from far away, sending a shock of adrenaline through him, his heart racing as he fought to place the sound. “Cas?” he whispered, not sure why he was afraid to call out in his own home. The sound came again along with scratching on glass.
Robby sucked in a breath as he realized the sounds were coming from outside the sliding glass door. The one that went to the balcony. A balcony with only thin bars protecting Casanova from plummeting to the ground below. He lurched to his feet before stopping short. How would Cas get out onto the balcony? There was no way. He’d been sleeping in his bed the whole time Wyatt and Charlie had visited and had curled up at Robby’s feet on the sofa as soon as they’d left. Not even drunk him would have put Cas out on the balcony. Would he?
Robby snatched the only thing in his immediate vicinity, the short, sharp, triangular cheese knife from the remnants of the charcuterie board. He held it before him as he crept towards the balcony. Had that been the sound he’d heard? Was there somebody lurking in the shadows, waiting for him to rescue Cas? He considered calling the police but couldn’t risk Cas wiggling between the bars and falling.
Was he just being paranoid? Had somebody broken in? It seemed hard to believe. This was a secure building. Well, more secure than most. But it wasn’t a new building and he hadn’t locked the door when Wyatt and Charlie left.
He forced himself to creep through the darkness, feeling like he had found himself in a Scooby-Doo episode. He breathed a sigh when he reached the door without incident and Cas bolted back inside, giving him a look of betrayal with his one good eye.
He bent down to try to pick him up, but the dog cowered away, pulling his lip back in an uncharacteristic snarl.
“What’s wrong with you, baby? How’d you get out there?”
He sensed another presence behind him a split-second before something solid swung into his periphery, missing his skull by a millimeter and crashing to the floor. It was a heavy stone sculpture shaped like a goddess. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as his brain tried to make sense of what was happening. He staggered forward, still hunched over, rearing up as he turned to face his attacker. The man grunted, lunging at Robby once more. He swung wide with his knife just as the man grabbed him. There was a slick sucking sound, and then something warm and sticky poured over Robby’s hand.
The man stumbled back, his hands holding the side of his neck. Robby followed without thought, unsure what had happened. He flung the cheese knife away from him, watching as the man fell to the floor, a puddle forming beneath him, looking like black ink in the shadows of the room. Why was there so much blood? It was such a small knife. He stood for far too long just staring as the stain crept towards hi
m. When it almost touched his sock, he finally jerked into motion. He flipped on the light and ran to the man. He was large, like a wrestler or a linebacker, but it was the slit in the side of his throat that had Robby’s eyes going wide as a fountain of thick red blood poured from the wound. He put his hands over it, but the man’s skin looked wrong, waxy and gray in the soft lights.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, God. Please don’t die in my apartment. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
After a few seconds, the blood stopped pumping, instead oozing out slowly. The man gazed upward, his mouth slack as a strange rattle escaped from the back of his throat. Robby scooted away, snatching Casanova and his phone, before retreating to the only spot he could find in his small apartment not stained crimson. A sob caught in his throat as his fingers slipped each time he tried to unlock his phone with his blood-slicked hands. “Fuck. Come on,” he whimpered.
Finally, his phone relented, and he stabbed at the contacts, calling the only name that came to mind. The name he’d focused on for the last three nights.
“‘ello,” Calder mumbled, his eyes still closed.
“Calder… It’s me, Robby.” Calder’s eyes flew open at the tear-soaked voice on the other end of the phone. “I-Oh, God. I think I killed someone.”
Calder jerked to his feet. “Where are you?”
“My apartment. He’s-I think he’s really dead.” The last words were a frantic whisper.
“Are you safe? Is there somebody else in the apartment? Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never killed somebody before,” Robby shot back. “I’m scared.”
Calder put his phone on speaker, shoving his legs into the jeans he found on the floor. “Listen, angel face, I’m on my way. If you’re sure you’re safe, you need to hang up and call 911. Do you understand?”
There was a shuddery sob. “He looks really bad. I don’t think he’s breathing.”
The kid was clearly going into shock. “Hey, I know you’re scared. I’m on my way. But you have to call the police. Do you hear me? It’s already going to look suspicious that you called me and not them. Hang up and don’t say a word about what happened until I get there.”
