Jack didn’t look all that convinced, but he helped Ryan up and back onto the bed.
“How long was I out?”
Jack shook his head. “It was only a few seconds, but you freaked me out. Maybe you should see a doctor?”
Ryan took a deep, shuddering breath. “I should be fine. Besides, I don’t want to go anywhere right now.” He stared up at the screen where the anchor droned on about some bill that was never going to pass, like someone hadn’t just lost their life. Like another of Ryan’s friends hadn’t been brutally murdered.
It was official. Someone was after them. And nothing scared Ryan more than the thought of leaving the house and being the next victim. He couldn’t stay here forever, though. There were bills to pay and shows to do, and Sheila was never one to disappoint her fans. But at least for today he would hide. Because here he was safe. Here he was with Jack.
As if Jack had heard his thoughts, he pulled Ryan into an embrace. “I know that there’s nothing I can say. But I’m here for you.”
That was all Ryan needed to know.
Jack pulled away from the curb after Taylor’s funeral, glancing in Sheila’s direction every minute or so. It had been nearly two weeks since they’d found Taylor’s body, and Sheila hadn’t been herself at all. He’d never known her to be so quiet before, but he understood why, and it made his chest ache.
Jack couldn’t deny that he was falling in love anymore. The thought terrified him. Part of him wanted to take Ryan’s hand and walk out into the world, fresh and new and officially dating instead of just fucking a few times a week. He found comfort in that idea. Warmth. Solace. But then there was that other, more cynical half that made him want to tuck his tail between his legs and get as far away from the situation as he could. Because it could only end in disaster for him. Heartbreak. Unemployment. His family disowning him the second they found out . . .
But it wasn’t Jack’s feelings that mattered right now.
This had been Taylor’s second funeral. The first had been for Jason, held by his family, and they’d made it clear that none of his “drag friends” were welcome. So the queens had put together their own. A celebration of Taylor’s life that they’d all showed up to completely decked out in their best drag. It had been a party—a send-off worthy of such a beautiful queen, they’d said. But now that it was over, Sheila looked like she wanted to sink back into the seat and disappear.
Jack cleared his throat. “How’re you holding up?”
She was silent for a moment, visibly chewing her tongue. She glanced at Jack, eyes shimmering. “I don’t know. Two of my sisters are dead. Murdered. And nobody—” Her voice broke and she heaved a sigh. “Nobody knows who did it, or why. And I’ve never been so scared in my life.” She fixed her gaze on something out the window. “What if somebody really is targeting us? What if I’m next?”
“No,” Jack said, putting his hand on her knee and squeezing in what he hoped would be a comforting way. “We’re not going to let that happen.”
Sheila scoffed. “And how do you think you can stop it? If some psycho decides he wants me dead, what is either one of us going to be able to do about it?”
“We can fight.” Jack swallowed the emotion in his throat. “I don’t want you giving up, so damn it, we’re going to fight.”
The corner of Sheila’s mouth turned up in a half-hearted smile. “Careful, sugar. You’re starting to sound like more than just a fuck buddy.”
Jack rolled his eyes. Yeah, he wanted to be more. But every time he tried to say it, the words froze in his throat and he sat there, feeling like a coward. Because that’s what he was. A giant pussy.
So they fell into silence, and stayed that way the rest of the ride back to Jack’s apartment. As soon as they went inside, Sheila headed straight for the mini-drag closet Jack had set up for her, though normally she rarely used it. A few minutes later, Ryan walked into Jack’s room, pulling a shirt on over his head.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For coming with me today. I can’t tell you how much it meant to me.”
Jack nodded. “Of course I came with you. I wouldn’t leave you to deal with something like this on your own.”
Ryan stared at him for a long time, as if he was trying to figure something out. Jack rolled his shoulders and trained his gaze on a corner of carpet. He scooched over to make room for Ryan.
“Sorry,” Ryan said. “I just . . .”
“Just what?”
“Nothing.” He sat down on the bed, rested his head on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m kinda in the mood for something sweet. What about you?”
Jack shrugged. “I’ve got some cake mix I’ve been needing to get rid of before it goes bad. I can whip that up, if you want.”
“I didn’t know cake mix went bad.”
“Oh it does,” Jack said, chuckling. “It can go real bad, and then everyone around pays the price.” He remembered damn near poisoning his family at one of his sister’s birthday parties and, in between heaves over the toilet, his sister grunting, “This is why men aren’t supposed to try to cook.”
He shook the memory away. “You want that?”
“As long as it’s not double chocolate,” Ryan said.
“Understood. You gonna hang out here til I’m done?” Ryan nodded. Jack got up and padded off toward the kitchen.
He’d wanted to be a cook, growing up. But his family never approved of the idea. They discouraged him every chance they got and, eventually he gave up on that dream and went to law school. But the passion had never really left him. Even now as he mixed the ingredients, a calm that he hadn’t felt in weeks rolled over him. Suddenly things made sense. Cases he’d been trying to figure out, and what to get his mother for her birthday, and, perhaps most importantly, what to do about Ryan.
He could do this. He could do a relationship, and it would be fine. He was a grown man, for crying out loud. What his family thought didn’t mean shit. They weren’t the ones who would have to live with the decision. He was. Being around Ryan made him happy. And if they really cared anything about Jack, they wouldn’t try to take that away from him, regardless of how they felt about what did or didn’t hang between Ryan’s legs.
By the time he slid the cake pans in the oven, he’d decided that he was going to march into that bedroom with his head held high, kiss Ryan’s breath away, fuck his brains out (not in drag, because that was the most important part), and tell him that he wanted to be in a relationship. That he was finally ready. He smiled the entire way down the hall, heart fluttering and skin tingling. And then he saw Ryan’s face grinning up at him, hair disheveled and eyes twinkling like a man who was honest to God in love. Who wasn’t afraid to take the next step because he wasn’t a coward.
Jack lost all his nerve and, if he didn’t know better, he would have sworn he felt his hopes crashing to the floor. Every time he’d ever heard his parents call someone a faggot, or a dyke, or a tranny swirled around in his head. The hatred in their eyes filled his brain. Each time they’d promised him that if he ever turned out like one of those limp-wristed fairies that he might as well just kill himself because he’d be dead to them came rushing back to him. He steadied himself against the doorway to keep from being knocked over by the wave of sorrow and disgust he suddenly found himself drowning in.
“Everything okay?” Ryan asked.
Jack swallowed. His gut told him to be honest, to give Ryan the chance to get out now, if that was what he wanted, because at this point Jack doubted he would ever be ready to give Ryan what he wanted and deserved. But when he opened his mouth, the only thing that came out was a lie. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He gave Ryan a half-hearted smile. “The cake will be done soon. It’s strawberry.” And he turned around and went back to the living room.
You’re a fucking pussy, he scolded himself. But he could tell himself the same thing for the next fifteen years and it probably wouldn’t change a damn thing. Because it was who he was. And
that was one more thing his parents had beaten into his head every chance they got.
Pussies didn’t win.
Ryan couldn’t focus. His eyes slid over the statement of his client, Lillie, for what felt like the millionth time, but if anyone had asked him what it said, he’d be left staring at them, dumb. His mind kept floating back to Jack and the weirdness of whatever the fuck it was they had going on. It was definitely something like a relationship, but it was still in the super delicate phase where anything could break it. The problem was that the thing most likely to break it was the thing Ryan loved the most.
Jack still begged for more time whenever Ryan brought the subject up, but time, and Ryan’s patience, were running razor thin. He hoped their upcoming date—a do-over from the originally planned one— would thaw the ice and make things a little better, but he was old enough to not hold out too much hope. People didn’t change that much. They just grew further into who they really were.
Ryan snapped himself back to reality. The only thing he was supposed to be thinking about now was his client and how to win her case. He tried, once again, to read the paper in his hands, but three lines in he gave up. What was wrong with him?
He got up and paced his office, running a hand through his hair. This was exactly why he should have turned Jack away when he’d seen him coming toward the stage that night. Workplace trysts always got messy, and Ryan knew better. But he hadn’t turned him away. And if he could go back in time, he probably still wouldn’t have. Because the sex was fiery and their connection definitely grew more electric by the day. And it would keep getting more intense unless Ryan did something about it.
A knock on his doorframe brought him back to his senses. Jack stood there, looking all boyish and charming and damn if a blanket of calm didn’t envelope Ryan and chase away the anxiety that had been plaguing him for the past hour.
“Everything okay?” Jack asked, head tilted to the side, studying him.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just needed to stretch my legs.”
Oh way to go, his brain scolded him. Can’t even be honest with him. How do you expect this to go anywhere when you won’t tell the truth?
Jack didn’t appear convinced, but thankfully he didn’t press the issue. “I finished drafting that complaint,” he said. “I was hoping you’d give it a once-over for me.”
“Sure thing.”
“Great.” He handed Ryan the folder and if Ryan didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn a current passed through them before Jack let go. “And um . . .” Jack leaned in a little closer. “I’m really looking forward to tonight.”
He turned around and took off up the hall before Ryan could try to read his expression. And there it was again. That niggling of unease that started in the pit of his stomach and would soon be buzzing through his entire soul. He pushed it to the side as best he could, because right now, work was more important.
At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
Jack took off another shirt and flung it across the room. Nothing looked right on him. And what was worse, it didn’t usually take him this long to get ready for anything, much less to go out on a date that he definitely wanted to go on, no matter what that little voice in the back of his mind tried to tell him.
He stared at himself in the mirror. “What do you see in me?”
He must like me for me, the voice’s hopeful counterpart supplied, overpowering the negative one for a quarter second.
“But what is there to like about me?” He shook his head and went back to his closet. It took him nearly half an hour to pick out something that didn’t make him want to set it on fire, and by then he was sweating so bad he headed off for the shower again.
Nothing could go wrong tonight, because he still wasn’t prepared to tell Ryan he could kick the drag to the curb. But he also didn’t want to give him up. And even though he was feeling pressured to move faster than he was ready for—a pressure that would have had him giving any other relationship the boot—he had this inkling in his gut that this one might actually be worth it. So he would see where it went. And he’d move as fast as he could to make sure Ryan didn’t go running.
An hour later, he was finishing buttoning his shirt when the phone rang. His heart sank into his stomach. His mother’s face staring up at him was literally the last thing he needed right now, but he couldn’t ignore her. She didn’t call often and it might be important.
“Hey, Ma,” he said, hoping he sounded happier than he felt.
“Hello, darling,” she said, and it was clear she’d been drinking. All hopes for a decent conversation went out the window and he sank onto his bed.
“How’s it going?”
“Oh, it’s so kind of you to ask,” she said. “It’s only been a month since the last time you called me.”
Fuck. Starting in already. He braced himself. “Sorry, Ma, I’ve just been crazy busy with work and—”
Her laugh cut him off. “I’m only fucking with you.”
He blinked. “Say what?”
“I know you’re busy. I wanted to check in on my baby and make sure you were still alive.”
A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I’m still alive. Just buried under a really big case.”
“Are you remembering to eat?”
His mind flashed back to a couple of days ago with his face buried between Ryan’s cheeks. “Yes, I definitely am,” he said, fighting a smirk.
They talked for the better part of an hour, catching up, and she made him promise to come visit before the holidays. He finished getting ready while they were on the phone, slipping into his pants at last, finding a decent pair of shoes, and spritzing himself with enough cologne to turn heads, but not enough to gag everyone in the room. The only person he wanted to lose their breath tonight was Ryan.
He’d almost forgotten why he didn’t talk to his family back home, until he tried to get off the phone.
“Hey, it’s been great, but I actually have to go. I have a date in a little bit and I’ve gotta get there.”
“A date?” she asked, and the surprise in her voice made him regret his words. “I can’t remember the last time you told me you had one of those. Is she a nice girl?”
He froze, mouth hanging open. Part of him wanted to tell her the truth, that he was going out with a man who was a drag queen who he was catching serious feelings for.
But the other part—the part that still needed her to love him no matter what—was scared shitless and couldn’t handle the disgust he’d hear in her voice if he said anything like that. Or the disappointment in her eyes the next time he saw her—if he’d ever be allowed to see her again. The thought of never seeing his parents again pierced his heart like a dagger. So he swallowed the lump in his throat and kept that bit of info to himself.
“Yeah, she is. Really nice.” It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly.
“So now you definitely have to come for a visit. I can’t wait to meet her.” The pride there made him hate himself, and all of a sudden he was back to asking himself what Ryan even saw in him. “But you go on. Have fun tonight. I love you, honey.”
“I love you too, Ma.” He hoped she didn’t hear the way his voice broke on the last word, and hung up before she could question him about it. Wiping away a tear, he tucked the phone into his pocket.
Just like that, he was back in his childhood room, sixteen, and wanting to kill himself because he’d rather die than lose the approval of those closest to him. His family had been all he’d had growing up. And now here he was, trying to make room in his heart for someone else; someone they would never approve of because they were stuck in the fifties. In their minds, there was no place for people like Jack—let alone people like Ryan—in the world. If the couple was anything other than a man and a woman, line up the firing squad and put them in front of it.
But Jack was sick of being unhappy. Sure, he could spend the rest of his life with a woman. And maybe he’d even turn out happy about it. But rig
ht now, in this moment, the one person he wanted to spend his time and energy on was probably in a car on the way to the restaurant to meet him, all put together and sexy. Jack nodded to himself. Ryan was who he needed to focus on now, and he couldn’t let his family’s outdated beliefs hold him back. So he put on a jacket and started out, head held high.
He wasn’t so sure of himself by the time he was staring at the door of Emerald City, though. His heart pounded in his throat, the only thing keeping the vomit down. He’d already sweated though his shirt and it was all he could do not to turn heel and run. But when would he stop? No matter how far he went, from Ryan, the firm, his family, and the life he’d so carefully built . . . he couldn’t run away from himself. And that grim outlook carried him inside and to the table where Ryan was already sitting.
Ryan stood. His smile was so radiant his eyes sparkled with it, and a sense of something like relief spread down Jack’s spine. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Traffic was a nightmare.”
“It’s fine,” Ryan said, sitting back down. “Gave me time to dream up a new number for Sheila.”
“Oh really?” Jack started to take off his jacket, remembered there were probably sweat stains on the pits of his shirt, and thought better of it. “What kind?”
Ryan launched into an explanation of the routine he’d been sketching in his brain for the past ten minutes: a Christina Aguilera song with tons of sparkles, but Jack was only half paying attention. His mind had drifted back to the conversation with his mother, and it was bringing him down again. It was impossible for her to walk in right now and find him sitting here with Ryan, ordering appetizers like a zombie, he knew that. But his brain had turned on him, and he found his gaze darting toward the door every few seconds to make sure they didn’t have any unwelcome visitors.
“Do you have somewhere else you need to be?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. “Cuz you know, I have better things I could be doing than sitting here being ignored.” He shook his head. “You agreed to this. I didn’t twist your arm.”
Anyone But You Page 8
