3

by Jacob Z. Flores

  It was time for him to become much more than that.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked and leaned nonchalantly against the door.

  When Dutch turned to face him, his jaw went slack. All color drained from his cheeks until he looked as pale as the sterile hospital walls around him.

  Spencer was pleased. He felt powerful, as if he held all the cards to some game the three of them were playing. If this was a game, he intended to win.

  I love the attitude, his father said, filled with pride.

  “Spencer,” Dutch said, completely shocked. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  “As if you don’t know,” he said while strolling into the room. He crossed over to the small table in front of the window, where two vases filled with flowers sat. One vase held four sunflowers, the other contained bright pink roses and white daisies. He sniffed each bloom. “Such pretty flowers,” he finally said. “I hear colorful arrangements are uplifting for injured bodies and troubled souls.”

  He emphasized the last two words while gauging Dutch’s reaction. Dutch did his best to hide his emotions behind his poker face. Spencer had come to know him a bit better than that.

  As always, his crystal blue eyes betrayed him. They swirled with a tempest of conflicting emotions. Worry and fear collided with genuine joy at seeing Spencer here in his hospital room.

  After all, they were colleagues and, perhaps, a little bit more.

  “They’re from my sister,” Dutch said. “The one with the roses and daisies. The sunflowers are from my niece and nephew.”

  “How sweet,” he replied, still casually strolling about the room as if there was nothing wrong, as if he didn’t know that Dutch had been fucking his partner. “I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

  “They were, but I talked to them this morning,” Dutch told him. His eyes followed Spencer about the room. The joy Spencer saw in his eyes fled. Worry and fear now completely dominated his gaze.

  Dutch knew why he was there, but he wasn’t willing to lay his cards on the table just yet.

  Make him suffer, his father prodded. Make him fire the first shot. The closing salvo will then be yours.

  “I’m glad you reassured them,” he told Dutch. He sat down in the chair across from the bed; the same one Justin occupied a few minutes before. Justin’s warmth still spread across the fabric. “How’s the prognosis?”

  “Improving,” Dutch replied warily. “Paralyzed from the waist down, though, but I’m alive.”

  “Yes, you are,” he replied, adding a touch of contempt to his tone. He hadn’t meant to be such an asshole to Dutch. Dutch was paralyzed, after all, and that somehow seemed punishment enough for fucking around with his man. Still, he seemed incapable of stopping the cruelty when he also said, “We’re all so thrilled.” His father might approve of the bastard Spencer was being, but it made Spencer uncomfortable, as if the person he once was had vanished and been replaced by the son his father always wanted.

  Apparently Dutch didn’t know what to make of this new Spencer either. Dutch stared at him. His eyes darted back and forth, observing each movement and scanning the emotions on his face.

  He gave Dutch nothing. He sat perfectly still, his right ankle resting calmly on his left knee. His fingers were laced together, lying on his lap, and he concentrated on draining all emotion from his face. He transformed into an unreadable statue.

  Damn, you’re good, his father praised him. Spencer had always wanted his father’s approval, but he didn’t want it to be for this.

  “What’s going on here?” Dutch finally asked.

  He blinked twice before answering. “What do you mean?” His posture didn’t change. His face betrayed nothing. “I’m just visiting a sick friend.”

  “I’m not sick,” Dutch corrected. “I’ve been in an accident.”

  “I know. A DWI,” he added.

  Dutch flinched, not because of his catty comment, but because his response revealed all Dutch needed to know. “You know, don’t you? That’s why you’re here.”

  He said nothing. His gaze met Dutch’s, never flinching and refusing to look away. He locked onto him like a sniper looking through a scope at his target. If he blinked, he might lose his shot, so he stayed still. Dead still.

  With each passing second, he became even more like his father.

  “You know about me and Justin.”

  The words shot through Spencer’s heart like arrows. Still, he kept the pain secretly folded up inside his chest, away from Dutch’s prying eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Dutch said. “I wish there was something else to say, but there isn’t.” His eyes reflected how miserable he felt. They drooped; the luster of the crystal blue lost.

  Start the return fire, his father ordered. Take him down. Now!

  For a few moments, he said nothing. He simply took in the gloom, absorbing the dark clouds of pain that filled the open air between them. The clouds, heavy with hurt, flooded his spirit with their deluge.

  What the fuck are you waiting for? Tear that son of a bitch a new asshole!

  “I’m sorry too,” Spencer finally replied.

  What? his father bellowed. You’re sorry? What the hell do you have to be sorry for? They fucked around on you!

  “Why aren’t you yelling at me?” Dutch asked. “Or trying to knock the shit out of me?”

  That’s a fucking good question, his father added.

  “I don’t have the answer to that,” he told Dutch. And he didn’t. He’d intended to walk in here and do as his father instructed, fire shot after shot into Dutch until his body was riddled with pain. The fight, however, left him upon seeing the genuine torment in Dutch’s eyes.

  It mirrored his own. In Dutch’s eyes, he saw the same hurt twisting within him. The pain born from the betrayal of a trusting lover. What right did he have to say his pain was worse?

  What right? his father asked. He’s the other fucking woman! He’s been sharing body fluids with the same person you’ve lived with for ten years! That’s your fucking right to be pissed off!

  “You’re the innocent victim here,” Dutch said at last, breaking the uneasy silence. “You’ve every right to be pissed off. I betrayed you. And our friendship.”

  Spencer laughed. Innocent victim? He’d tossed that phrase aside when he struck his brother with that rock all those years ago. According to his father, there were no innocent victims, only those who allowed themselves to be continually victimized.

  As he looked at some of the events from his life, he realized he was far from an innocent victim.

  “What’s so funny?” Dutch asked.

  Clouds of concern hung over Dutch’s eyes. No doubt he wondered whether Spencer was losing his grip on reality, unbalanced by the knowledge of the affair.

  That was far from the truth. Up until this point, he had been trudging along as if he were an innocent victim. His attitude had fueled his contempt for Justin and Dutch and embittered his soul. After all, his father’s voice had returned, when it had been silenced years ago. That alone was proof of how far he had fallen.

  He had no desire to be like his father. The man he wanted to be, no, the man he had been, was much better than that.

  He had to get that man back.

  If things were to change, he had to man up and take responsibility for his contributions to this mess. Only then could they all heal and move on. After all, that was what he wanted, to be free to choose the next path of his life without the pain of the past darkening his choices, as it had done since Mike Lane.

  This time, when he started again, it would be with a clean slate, free of the past. There would be no more armor and no more conversations with his father. He had the power to make those changes. He simply needed to use it.

  “Spencer? Are you okay?”

  Dutch’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “Yeah, just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “About being an innocent victim,” he told Dutch. “I’m not an innoce
nt victim. You know that as well as I do.”

  Dutch nodded. “Maybe ‘innocent victim’ was the wrong choice of words. You’re just not as guilty as me and Justin.”

  “Not as guilty,” he agreed. “But I came pretty close.”

  “He doesn’t know, does he?” Dutch asked. “About….”

  He shook his head. He didn’t want Dutch to finish the thought. Voicing it made it harder to ignore. He thought he was ready to face up to this. It was one of the reasons he came here. Now, with the words hanging unspoken in the air, he knew he wasn’t ready.

  His father was right. He had to finish one battle before starting another.

  “I didn’t think so,” Dutch said. He slouched back in his bed from the weight of another burden thrown upon his chest. “I figured Justin would’ve said something.”

  “And I don’t want him to know,” he said. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?” Dutch asked. “Everything else is out in the open. Why not this?”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “Why not? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t need to give you a reason, damn it,” he yelled. The anger he’d kept bottled within exploded outward. “You of all people know why learning about Justin’s affair with you was so devastating. I’m not ready to pile more pain on top of the heap. Are you?”

  “I guess not,” Dutch said. His eyes told Spencer he didn’t agree with him.

  “And I don’t need you to agree with me,” he told Dutch. He rose from the chair and crossed over to stand at Dutch’s right. “This is my decision to make. You’ve taken enough from me already. The least you could do is offer me this one courtesy.”

  He glared into Dutch’s defiant eyes. Within, he saw Dutch’s resentment at being emotionally blackmailed. He didn’t care. Dutch would give him what he wanted, and he wouldn’t leave until he got it. “Promise me you’ll keep the secret and you won’t tell Justin I was here.”

  “That’s two secrets you want me to keep,” replied Dutch.

  “And how many did you keep from me all those months?” he asked.

  “Fine,” Dutch replied. He averted his eyes and returned to gazing out the window. “I don’t like it, but I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you,” he said, pleased with Dutch’s acquiescence. For now, the secret would remain hidden.

  “I hope you’ll thank me when this blows up in our faces,” Dutch said. “He loves you, you know? He always has. Even when we were together, he loved you and never stopped.” His gaze returned to Spencer. “He’d forgive you anything. Especially now.”

  “The problem is he loves you too,” he added. “I know it and you know it.”

  Dutch nodded reluctantly.

  What he didn’t admit, what they both didn’t admit, was that they still loved Justin too.

  The three of them danced to two different songs mashed together by some insane DJ, spinning the soundtracks of their lives. On one table the original song played, the one devoted to him and Justin, but their steps lost the beat as Dutch’s song with Justin skidded into their tempo.

  Their steps were off, and no one knew which dance to follow. They were trapped in an endless loop, destined to be forever out of synch unless one of the records was put on permanent pause.

  It was up to Spencer to find the song that would remain on the playlist.

  CHAPTER 24

  2009

  DUTCH and Justin’s first kiss lasted far longer than the mariachi song. They lounged upon each other’s lips like vacationers on a Mediterranean beach. Their flesh, warm from the exposure, burned with blistering passion, and the sweat drenching their bodies turned their kisses salty, like taffy.

  When they finally parted, seafood was no longer on the menu. Their bodies hungered for more than what a dinner at Pesca could provide. Neither had to speak his desires; words were unnecessary.

  Dutch simply took Justin by the hand and led him back up the elevator to the main floor of the Watermark Hotel. They proceeded to the front desk and booked a room for the evening. The hotel clerk who checked them in smiled knowingly. She saw the look in their eyes and knew what was up, especially since neither of them had luggage.

  They proceeded back to the elevator and hit the numbered button corresponding to their floor. When the doors closed, Dutch once again enveloped Justin in his arms, pulling his smaller, tight frame against his own. Nuzzling his neck, he detected a faint whiff of worn leather and sandalwood. The manly smell sent his passion into overdrive, causing him to once again dive into Justin’s lips, which still tasted minty from the lip balm applied prior to their date. The mint added a kick Dutch liked—fresh yet masculine, like aftershave.

  The elevator chimed as the doors opened onto their floor, and they stumbled out, still kissing, still embracing. It took all of his willpower not to rip Justin out of his clothes right there in the hall.

  With just one kiss, he was hooked. Justin had plucked him from the ocean, where he was once free to swim in whatever direction he pleased, and reeled him into his boat. There would be no returning to the ocean; that life simply no longer existed.

  Slowly, they made their way down the hall to their room, stopping every few feet to enjoy the forceful kisses that caused their facial hair to scrape against their cheeks and their tongues. When they finally reached their room, Dutch slid the key card into the slot and the door unlocked.

  He backed into the room, his arms around Justin’s waist, and he nibbled at Justin’s neck. The odor of leather and sandalwood mixed with the musky scent of sex. Justin moaned and squirmed as Dutch licked a trail from Justin’s throat to the sensitive flesh behind his ear.

  When the door finally shut behind them, Justin pulled Dutch’s shirt out of his jeans and fumbled the buttons open. Justin then spread his strong, soft fingers through the generous layer of fur on his chest and bent down to lick his nipples.

  Dutch caught his breath at the warm, wet sensation of Justin’s mouth upon his sensitive skin. While Justin gently bit at his right nipple, sending dual waves of pleasure and pain crashing through his body, he stretched over Justin’s back and pulled his sweater and shirt up and over his head.

  They embraced each other, bare-chested. Justin’s smooth, tanned skin felt like melted butter against his flesh. For a few moments, they stayed in that embrace, staring into each other’s eyes and marveling at what they had inexplicably found.

  In Justin, he found something more precious than diamonds. They had been friends online for weeks, but it had quickly grown into something so much more. They were there for each other when no one else was or when no one else could be. They’d offered a nonjudgmental ear and unconditional support. They’d bared their souls and opened their hearts.

  What they had unknowingly done over the past few weeks was prepare the soil for the garden of their relationship to grow. It took root in their communication, it grew from their frankness and candor, and it bloomed because of their sincerity.

  Now the garden they’d tilled together was ready to be harvested.

  His lips once again found Justin’s. The passion he inhaled from Justin invigorated him and breathed new life into his spirit. He felt freer than he had his whole life; unseen possibilities unfolded and stretched out before him. His road no longer extended into darkness, and he was no longer the only passenger in the car.

  He’d found a copilot, his navigator, and the person who would keep him from getting lost whenever darkness descended or storms crossed their path.

  He undid the button and zipper of Justin’s jeans. He pushed them along with Justin’s black papi underwear to the floor of the room. He looked in amazement at Justin’s almost hairless, naked body. Though smaller in frame and stature, Justin’s body was compact, lean, and taut. Dutch wanted nothing more than to partake in the bounty so eagerly presented before him.

  Reaching out with his right hand, he brought Justin’s naked body against his. Justin’s hardness pressed against his own, still separated by Dutch’s jeans.
Having Justin naked in his arms while he was still half dressed made him feel powerful, in control. At his command and in his power was a man he would somehow do anything for, and to have that man completely under his spell made Dutch want him even more. More than anything, he longed to be out of his jeans, to press Justin’s naked skin against his bare flesh. It was agonizing to be so close but so far, yet he lacked the strength to pull away. Now that Justin was in his arms, releasing him was no longer an option.

  Justin once again ran his hands through his chest hair; each hair he stimulated with his fingers sent charges of electricity straight down to his ever-hardening cock. Justin then pinched the nipples, grinding them between his powerful fingers before traveling southward, undoing his jeans. Justin ran his fingertips along the bulge of his underwear, eliciting a shiver that traveled down the length of his spine. When Justin put his hands underneath the waistband, Dutch quivered at his touch.

  After what seemed like an eternity of Justin jacking his hardness, Justin finally shucked Dutch’s pants and underwear from his body. Now they were both naked, still standing just inside the front door, their bodies still touching. Occasionally, their lips brushed against one another, but their eyes were too busy staring and their hands were too busy exploring.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Dutch whispered into Justin’s ear as his left hand traveled from Justin’s arms to his head. It came to rest on the back of Justin’s head. As he pushed Justin into another fiery kiss, Justin’s right hand journeyed from Dutch’s shoulders to his ass.

  “No. You are,” Justin replied before they were locked in another long kiss. As their tongues outlined each other’s lips, Justin squeezed Dutch’s ass, kneading it with passion while Dutch ran his thick fingers through his hair and massaged the back of his scalp. Their bodies pressed together, their erections trapped in between. Their cocks, slick with sweat, slid over and beside one another as their hips instinctively drove upward.