by J. P. James
I couldn’t reach out. None of us could. Fyre needed distance, and we needed to sort our lives out too. It didn’t involve the fire marshal, thankfully, but our captain put us on leave until the media storm calmed down. Fyre’s gone through much worse, at least according to the media. He denied everything, of course, but he also publicly thanked Percy for his support and devotion. It killed me to hear it at first, but it worked to our advantage. If it weren’t for Fyre’s announcement, we wouldn’t have been able to make this happen.
“Let’s go over the details one more time,” Martins says as he sits at the one of the chairs. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and reads his notes.
“He should be here within the hour,” says Fyre.
“Good,” Martins says before turning to Fyre. “Are you ready?”
Fyre finally shifts his eyes to meet Martins, but still avoids us.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he says flatly.
He looks sad. There’s no sparkle in his eyes, no life. He may look good, but he’s a shell.
“Detective Martins,” I say, getting his attention. “If it’s not too much trouble, could we speak privately to Mr. Connell? There are some personal things we want to discuss about today’s plan.”
I’m not looking at Fyre, but I can hear him suck in air. Martins gets up gingerly. “I’ll do a final sweep of the floors,” he announces, before leaving the room and quietly closing the door behind him.
Fyre crosses his arms over his chest once we’re alone.
“One of these is for you,” I say, gesturing to the chairs.
Fyre shakes his head. “What did you want to discuss?”
Jordan takes a seat opposite me. He looks at me, wanting me to take the lead.
“How are you?” It’s the only thing that comes to mind. I’ve written it out so many times, it’s a blessing to say the words out loud.
Fyre’s lip quivers as his gaze hardens. “Fine. What else did you want to discuss?”
For the first time in a month, my heart clenches in my chest. I allowed myself to be numb, but I can’t right now, not when he’s right here. I have the opportunity to make things right. At the very least, we can make peace before the day is over.
“It’s okay to be scared,” Jordan tries.
Fyre turns to look at him, giving him the same steely expression. “I’m not scared.”
“I am,” I tell him.
Fyre’s hands grip the comforter, and I can see his jaw clench. “You have nothing to be scared of. You’re twice his size.”
The air catches in my lungs. It’s too much to sit still, so I stand and walk towards the windows for some distance.
“I’m not scared of him,” I continue. “I’m scared I’ve fucked this up so badly that it can’t be fixed.”
I turn around and glimpse what I’ve been dying to see. For a split second, Fyre drops his guard. I see the glitter in Fyre’s eyes, I see hope in his eyes.
“I don’t want to talk about that right now. If you want to discuss the plan, then fine. Otherwise, leave me alone.”
“I listened to your interview on TurnUpRadio the other day.”
Fyre and I both turn to Jordan. He’s leaning back in his chair, his head fixed on the ceiling. He’s massaging the kinks in his neck, until his eyes move to Fyre.
“So?” Fyre folds his arms again.
Jordan gets up and takes a few steps until he’s a foot away from Fyre. Fyre doesn’t move, but it looks like his skin prickles from the proximity.
Jordan clears his throat and adjusts his suit again. “They asked you about a favorite memory. You said when you saw the fireflies in Philly. It’s a favorite memory of mine too, Fyre.”
Just like that, a wall breaks down in Fyre’s heart. Tears start to gather at the corners of his eyes. He brushes them aside. “I don’t want to do this right now.”
Jordan takes a step back, but sits on the arm of a chair so he’s facing Fyre. I walk back from the windows, choosing instead to sit on the other side of the bed.
“I miss you,” I tell him.
Fuck. I’ve been dying to say that for weeks. It breaks a wall down in my own heart, filling me with both levity and sadness.
“I’ve missed you so damn much,” I try again, loving how the words feel out loud.
Fyre wipes away another tear. Jameson lurches forward, but stops. He wants to help, to wipe away every tear as much as I do, but it’s not time yet.
“Please, can we talk after all this is done? We just want to know how you’re doing.”
Without a second thought, I reach my hand across the bed and place it on top of Fyre’s. I’m expecting him to throw it off, but I need him to know that I’m here for him. We’re here for him, and we never left his side.
He doesn’t move his hand away. A sob bubbles up. “I miss you too.”
He turns his hand over, palm facing mine, and he laces our fingers together. He takes Jordan’s hand as well, squeezing both of ours as another sob racks his body. “I miss you both.”
He stands and moves towards the front door. “But I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to make this work.”
Jordan looks at me. I nod, and his eyes fix on Fyre. “We don’t know either. I don’t know how our cousins make their relationship work, but it’s going strong. It can be done. It takes work and even more communication than a relationship with two people.”
Fyre averts his eyes. He chews his lip, trying to work this out in his head.
“Let’s talk later,” I insist. “We have work to do first.”
Fyre walks back to us. He pulls each of our hands towards him, kissing each with the tenderness and love I’ve ached for.
“Later,” Fyre agrees.
17
Fyre
Martins likes to tap his feet when he’s bored. He did it every time I met with him over the last couple weeks, and he’s doing it now.
I don’t think it bothers Jordan or Jameson as much as it bothers me. They seem lost in their own thoughts. Me one the other hand, I feel like I might lose my mind. I couldn’t sleep last night, but now that it’s almost here, my mind feels blank. I honestly don’t know what will happen.
A knock comes at the door sooner than I anticipated, even though the clock says he’s on time. Martins stands quickly and marches towards the door. I take the opportunity to join Jordan in the chairs. Jameson hasn’t moved from the window.
“Evening, Mr. Ellis,” Martins says, stepping aside to let our guest through the door.
Percy looks different from how I remember him. I guess I only met him once before, but I’ve replayed that night countless times in my head. I don’t think he’s evil or violent, but I had built him up as this foreboding kid. Tall, strong, and in every way intimidating.
This Percy though, he looks a bit of a mess. His hair is longer, and there are heavy bags under his eyes. He looks docile.
“Fyre!” He exclaims when he sees me.
I give him the warmest smile I can muster, which is more than I expected. I genuinely feel for this kid, despite everything he’s put me through, put us through.
“Hey Percy.”
Jordan stands as Percy approaches.
“What’s he doing here?” asks Percy. He’s wary, but manages to settle into the seat opposite me. Martins takes the last free chair.
“I’m glad you could join us, Mr. Ellis,” Martins starts.
“I can’t believe you found me, Fyre,” Percy says with a smile. “I’ve missed you.”
I take a deep breath, choosing to march forward instead of back down now. “It wasn’t easy finding you. Martins helped me with that.”
Jordan squints at Percy, inspecting every inch of the guy that caused me grief. Something tugs in my chest, but I shove down the feeling.
“What’s going on? Am I in trouble?” asks Percy.
Jordan opens his mouth, but my hand is too fast. He looks at me, incredulous, but holds his tongue.
“I wanted to talk t
o you about your posts. The ones that outed my bodyguards and me,” I tell him, watching his face for any signs of anger or distress.
He looks scared, if anything, and nods meekly.
“Percy, I want to start by saying,” I tell him calmly, “that I appreciate your concern. I haven’t told many people this, but you’ve put more effort into my well-being than my family has. For that, thank you.”
Percy’s eyes light up. He tries to reach forward, but Martins stops him. He places his hands in his lap and smiles back at me. “I care so much about you, Fyre. I’ve always been a fan of your music, but I love seeing the person you’ve become.”
His eyes turn to Jordan, and then to Jameson, and his expression goes rigid. “I want to protect you from people who want to take advantage of you.”
He spits it out so hard, I think he might cough up a lung and throw it at Jordan. His glaring doesn’t last long, because the next moment he turns his friendly charms back over to me.
“Percy, your concerns are misplaced.”
I put my hand on Jordan’s and give it a firm squeeze. Jordan stiffens next to me, but tries to play it cool. I can hear Jameson take a step forward. He’s probably wondering if he’s really seeing what he’s seeing.
“You see, Percy, I love these guys. Both of them, and we’re in a committed polyamorous relationship.”
Jordan and Jameson suck in air at the same time. I can’t look at them, because I can already hear the shock in their voices. I know this wasn’t exactly in the plan, but I’ve been thinking about this for a couple days. Percy can’t just hear what I have to say though. He needs to see it for himself.
Jordan squeezes back and clears his throat. “Yes. We love each other.”
“We all do,” Jameson calls from behind.
The ache in my chest tries to throw me off balance again, but for a second time I shove it back where it belongs. Deep inside.
Percy’s smile and chest fall. “But they made a deal. I heard them.”
“You only heard part of their conversation,” I tell him. “My agent had talked to them earlier about their acting careers. He was explaining the roles they could get and offered an affair with a celebrity as an example.”
Understanding dawns on Percy. I can read it so clearly.
“They turned down show business, but when my agent mentioned that my tour needed security, they offered their services. That’s how I met them, and well …”
I give Jordan’s hand another tentative squeeze for emphasis. I need this to look convincing, but as my palm brushes against his calloused one, my mind starts to blur the lines between real and imaginary. I let go of his hand gracefully, needing that distance. Percy needs to think this is real.
“Huh.” Percy’s still piecing together the puzzle.
“Percy,” I say, leaning forward. “The LGBT community can always use more positive representation. We’re in a committed relationship, but not everyone will see it that way. When you outed us, it just made it harder. It makes us look like we’re hiding a dirty secret, when really we just want to maintain our privacy. Now this affects their careers and mine. Do you understand?”
Percy only looks deeper into my eyes. Even though he’s an adult, there’s something child-like in the way he looks at me. He looks at me like a true fan, someone who cares about my opinion.
He nods after a moment and takes a shaky breath.
“I didn’t realize the harm I was doing. I’m so sorry, Fyre,” he pleads.
“Social media is tricky,” I tell him. I look at Jordan and over my shoulder at Jameson. I give them a weak smile and turn back to Percy. “When you post content, without giving it context, it can do more damage than good. I don’t know what will become of my career.”
A tear rolls down Percy’s cheek. He drops his head, ashamed now that he’s pieced things together. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. Please don’t stop making music.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I reach out to Percy. I want to catch the next tear that rolls down his cheek and wipe it away. “I might not make music forever, Percy, but it’ll always be around for you to enjoy. I won’t stop using my influence to inspire queers kids. I hope you’ll learn from this and someday use what I’m telling you to inspire others kids. I bet you could make an excellent private detective, if you applied your skills in the right way.”
Martins puts a gentle hand on Percy’s shoulder. “I think there’s some merit to that,” he says, but he also doesn’t take his eyes off Percy.
Percy’s smile comes back full force. He’s beaming with inner light, something hopeful and exciting. It warms me in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
“There’s one other thing I’d like you to do, Percy, if you don’t mind,” I say.
“Name it. I’ll do anything to make up for my mistakes,” he begs.
“I’ve been going to therapy for years. If you agree, I’d like you to find a therapist you trust. I want to pay for it, so you don’t have to worry. Sometimes you just need to talk to someone.”
Percy’s eyes well up, and he slams them shut to hold back the tears. He sniffs again, wiping the snot from his nose.
“I will. Thank you, Fyre. I promise I’ll do better, for you.”
I take Percy’s hand and pull us up from our chairs. From across the small table, I wrap my arms around him. He rests his head on my shoulder, and the weight reminds me of the times I’ve relied on Damon for strength.
“I hope you do better for yourself too, Percy. You’re worth it.”
I turn my head enough to see Jordan and Jameson watching us. They’re both still edgy, yet smiling softly at us. At me.
I let the nagging pang unearth itself. The hope, the want, and the love I feel for these guys is still here. It never left. I just wish it weren’t so complicated. I’m certain Percy won’t threaten us again, but there are still problems. I don’t know if we can fix this, and I’m scared that it’ll all come crashing down. This is one mess I don’t know how to clean up.
“I’ll escort you through the lobby, Mr. Ellis,” Martins tells Percy. “There’s a police training program I want to discuss with you. I could even take you on as an apprentice, if private investigating sounds like something you’d enjoy.”
“That’d be great,” Percy exclaims.
They walk out the door in the next beat, and immediately the tension in the room disappears. Jordan exhales deeply, probably because he’s been holding his breath this entire time. Jameson too, I’m sure. None of us knew how this was going to go, and honestly, I think it passed with flying rainbow colors
“Wow,” I breathe. I get up and immediately feel a head rush. I collapse into the bed, letting my mind finally rest after weeks of exhaustion.
I glance at the boys too. They’re just as exhausted. We all look paler than usual. I bet none of us have slept well. Part of me wishes they would lie down next to me, but it’s too soon. There’s still so much to discuss.
“You did great, Fyre,” Jameson says.
“You look like you could use a nap,” I comment.
He rolls his eyes at me. “Says the guy who’s about to pass out on the bed.”
“I’m too tired to argue.”
I’m unsure where this goes next. We said we’d talk after Percy left, but none of this feels real. Are we over, and is this closure? Are we going to try again, or is it too much work?
“How’s your music coming along?” Jordan asks, walking towards the bed.
I sit up slowly, meeting him halfway until he’s standing in front of me. His eyes are soft and inviting. I missed them. He can probably read the ease on my face, and he brings his hand to my face. He’s made a good choice, because I don’t pull away. I don’t want to pull away.
“I missed this,” I whisper, savoring the feel of his fingers brushing against my skin.
He looks at Jameson. There’s affection in his eyes as he studies us, relishing the sight. It makes me feel so much more whole than I did a minute ago.
<
br /> “We missed this too,” Jameson says.
I lean farther into Jordan’s hand, letting another breath leave my lungs.
“My music is going … well,” I start. I pull away from Jordan to gather my thoughts. “I’m writing music, if that’s what you mean. As far my career goes, I’m not sure what to make of it.”
Jameson sits on the bed next to me and offers his shoulder. I take it gladly, resting my head on him for support.
“You’re still a pop sensation, whether you like it or not,” Jameson confirms. “You can come back from this.”
“I’m not sure I want to come back from this.”
“What’s with the change?” Jordan asks lightly. He’s isn’t judging, but he’s curious. We haven’t seen or heard from one another in a month, and there’s so much they want to understand. I feel the same way.
“I may have teenage fans,” I begin, “but I think I’ve outgrown the industry. I might release one more album, since I have all this material, but that’s ultimately up to the label.”
I get off the bed, needing to put more distance between us while I make my case.
“I love my fans, and I love music, but the industry has dragged me down for a while, even before everything with Percy,” I say. “I’m just glad that all this shit led me to you.”
Jameson and Jordan share another look, the twin telepathy that binds them.
“We’re the lucky ones, Fyre. We were going through the motions before you came along,” says Jameson.
“We’re better men because of you,” confirms Jordan.
My heart swells with pride. I can’t believe it’s only been a month. It feels like an eternity since I talked to these guys.
“What do we do now?” Jameson asks cautiously.
