by Sean Michael
"I can do it.” He stepped away, arms wrapped around his belly.
"Then fucking do it. You need to get sober. Now."
"Okay. Okay.” He stripped down, got into the water, shaking hard. He washed himself quickly, not sure how this was going to help, but willing to do almost anything to stop Jessy from glaring at him.
Jessy stood outside the shower, hands across his chest. Quiet. Still. When he'd done washing, Jessy leaned in and turned the hot down. He curled into himself a little, the cold water chilling him all through. Oh. Okay. So, he really wanted to go home now. Really.
It felt like Jessy made him stay in there forever before finally leaning in and turning off the water. Jessy tugged him out and toweled him down roughly.
"What now?” He was going to be sick, was going to cry, and he wasn't going to do it in front of Coach. No way.
"Now you sit and start drinking water. And then you go to bed and sleep it off."
He nodded and moved away, went to find a pair of sweat pants and a shirt. Socks. He needed some socks, too.
Jessy disappeared for a couple minutes, coming back with a glass of water and a large pitcher filled with the same. “Start drinking."
"I'll throw up."
"Possibly.” The glass was thrust toward him.
He took the glass and drank it, almost gagging, but forcing himself not to. Eventually this would be over. It would. It had to be.
Jessy fed him two more glasses before starting to pace. “Do you have any idea how disappointed I am in you? You of all people, Mike. I never expected this from you."
He didn't say a word. It didn't matter anyway. His coach didn't believe him. Hell, Jessy didn't believe him. He was suspended. It just didn't matter. He drank another glass of water, teeth almost floating.
Jessy went on a little longer, finally winding down. “Go to bed, Mike. We'll discuss what we're going to do about this tomorrow."
He nodded, watched Jessy storm out of the bedroom, back all stiff. Then Mike ran for the master bath, throwing up until there was nothing but bile, and then he sat on the bathroom floor, dug his cell phone out of his jeans.
It was late enough that the voice that answered the phone was part angry, part scared.
He sniffled and then cleared his throat. “A..aunt Kathy?"
"Mikey? Mikey, what's wrong?"
"Can I come home? Please? I want to come home."
"What happened? What's wrong?"
He shook his head. “Can I come home?"
He heard her soft sigh. “Always. Do you need money?"
"No. I have my Christmas money still. I'll be home before lunch, okay?"
"Sure, honey. You be careful, now. It's raining and I know those bikes are dangerous."
"I will. Love you."
"I love you, Mikey. Don't you worry, now. Whatever it is, we'll fix it."
He nodded, hung up. He needed to go home.
Just...
Home.
* * * *
Jessy spent the night in his office.
He paced. He fretted. He growled. He dozed.
He finally fell asleep with his head on the desk around four a.m..
He woke up four hours later, stiff and still angry. And hurt. He'd trusted Mike. He'd never believed Mike would ever do drugs. Not performance enhancers, not recreational. Hell, he didn't let the kid have caffeine, why the hell did Mike think it would be okay if he took something at a party?
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and headed for the kitchen. He needed coffee.
He'd bet Mike was probably going to have a hangover. A big breakfast would be in order, followed by a day of swimming at the UT pool. It wasn't warm enough to swim in their pool in the back. He was going to work the kid hard, keep him too busy to even contemplate doing drugs again.
He slammed cupboards closed and made as much noise as he could in the kitchen. And when that didn't produce his swimmer, he headed up the stairs. “Mike!"
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Frowning, Jessy headed upstairs to the still made bed, the empty room. He checked Mike's old room, the spare room. Still nothing. As he passed their room on his way back to the stairs, he noticed the white paper on the dresser. He strode over and picked it up.
The note was simple, scribbled. “Coach. Hope your next swimmer's not a disappointment. I'll mail all the official type papers to Coach Samuels. Sorry. Michael Gaulliet."
He sat down hard, right there by the dresser, almost not noticing his ass hit the floor.
Mike was gone. It was like a fist in his belly, a blow as unexpected and ten times as painful as last night. His baby was gone.
* * * *
His room was just the same as how he'd left it. Red bedspread, M&M alarm clock, old black dresser. Just the same.
Mike felt different though. Aunt Kathy had been cool—not asking questions, really, accepting that he wasn't on the swim team anymore with a nod and a hug. She'd gotten him a job waiting tables at Denny's, was trying to find another school—maybe a community college he could go to.
Two weeks gone and everything was suddenly different.
Or the same.
Something.
He got up, padded to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, petting the dog. He needed to go to work. He needed to go for a drive. The wind was blowing hard, rain in the air.
He signed the paperwork to send to UT, stamped it.
Maybe next week he'd actually mail it.
Maybe.
Mike poured himself a cup of coffee, added in sugar, and then headed back down the hall, trying very hard not to hear Jessy's voice in his head.
* * * *
Almost three weeks since Jessy's world had stopped.
He'd called Mike after three days, but Mike wasn't in. He'd asked Kathy how Mike was doing, received a stiff “he's fine” and had declined to leave a message. He missed his swimmer. But more than that, he missed his lover, his baby. It was like he was only half alive. He spent long hours sitting out on the deck, watching the pool. Just watching it.
He didn't understand why Mike had done drugs in the first place. He didn't understand why Mike had just taken off after that instead of offering him some sort of explanation or apology. Had it really been so easy to just throw everything they had together away?
He'd taken to asking the whiskey bottle that question and, depending on how drunk he was when he asked it, he got different answers.
He wasn't really hung over this morning, though, just grouchy. And going to UT to see Jeff Samuels was not high on the list of things he wanted to do. Jeff had called yesterday, though, told him to come in, that it was important. If the man was trying to set Jessy up with another swimmer, he was going to beat Jeff's ass to a pulp.
He strode into the coach's office, not even looking at the pool. He was done.
"Shut the door behind you. We have to talk.” Jeff looked like hammered shit, pale and upset.
He shut the door and leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest. “So talk."
"Walter Shell came to me yesterday afternoon. He's one of our new swimmers. He was at the party with Mike and the rest of them. You need to hear what he has to say.” Jeff met his eyes. “It involves Mike."
He tensed, jaw clenching, fingers curling into fists. “All right."
Jeff stood, open the interior door and a short, skinny kid came in, hands twisted together. “I'm sorry. I really am. It was a joke, a dare. I didn't think anybody'd get in trouble, honest."
"What are you talking about?” he asked, the tension getting worse.
"The guys. I had some X and I offered to get them drinks—Harry, Sammy, Alex had Coke. Ricky and Ollie had a beer. Mike had a 7-Up. I put it in their drinks. They were playing darts.” The kid shook his head. “It was a joke. I didn't know they'd get in trouble."
Jessy could feel all the blood drain out of his face. “What?” He stepped forward, towering over the kid, growling. “What?"
"I'm sorry. I am. I didn't t
hink anything bad would happen. They didn't know. None of them. It was just a joke.” The kid backed up and Jeff stepped up, getting between them.
"I want him off the team, Jeff. I don't ever want to see him swimming for UT. Ever.” And if Jeff blinked he was going to snap the kid in two.
"He's already off. He's been sanctioned by the ISO. Hell, Alex Rogers’ mother is suing. Our boys can't compete for three months, but they won't lose ranking, etc.” Jeff nodded toward the door. “Go, Walt. Thank you for coming forward."
Jeff turned back to him, eyes serious. “I got the official withdrawal paperwork from Mike today in the mail."
He closed his eyes. Christ. This was even more fucked-up than it had been. He had to see Mike.
He held out his hand. “Give it to me? I'll either bring it or Mike back."
Jeff nodded, handed him an envelope. “As far as I'm concerned? I never saw it."
"Thanks.” He shook his head. “What the fuck is wrong with kids these days?"
"Same thing that was wrong twenty years ago when it was hash brownies, Jessy.” Jeff sat down hard. “The real question is, what's wrong with us that we didn't believe our boys when they said they didn't do it."
He shook his head again. Mike had only said he hadn't taken anything, and considering how huge his baby's pupils had been, he'd known that wasn't true. And Mike had gone before they could talk about it. “They were high, Jeff. What were we supposed to think?"
"I don't know, Jessy. I mean, there's a couple that are marginal, but Alex? Harry? Mike? They're career swimmers."
More than career swimmers, swimming was his baby's life.
"I know, Jeff,” he growled. “Don't you think I fucking know?"
"Yeah. I think you do. Go get him.” Jeff sighed. “Go get him and tell him I'm sorry."
"You can tell him yourself in a couple of days.” He waved Mike's paperwork at Jeff. “Thanks."
He didn't even bother going home, just got in the car and started driving, heading for Mike's Aunt Kathy. Time to bring his baby home.
Chapter Ten
Mike poured table six another round of coffee and put the order in for table eight. Tonight was his early shift; he got off at nine and was going to go to the movies.
Something violent and scary.
And bloody.
"Mikey? You've got a table that requested you. They want coffee and orange juice."
He grinned over at Susan, nodded. “Thanks, boss. Which one?"
"Three."
"Okay. I'll get it.” He poured a large OJ and grabbed a coffee cup and a carafe, heading toward table three.
Wow, from the back the guy at the table looked like Coach.
He ignored the ache in his chest and then headed over. “Good evening. Welcome to Denny's. I'm Mike and I'll be taking care of you this evening."
Oh. From the front the guy looked exactly like Coach.
Jessy's blue eyes turned up to him. “Hi, Mike."
"Hi.” His hand shook when he poured the coffee, but he didn't spill.
Oh.
Oh, God.
"Do ... do you know what you want?"
Jessy nodded at the seat across from him. “I want to talk to you."
"I'm working for another half-hour.” He didn't know what Jessy would want to say.
Jessy nodded. “I can wait. The orange juice is for you."
He blushed dark. He hadn't had orange juice since he came back. “Do you ... do you want something to eat?"
"Only if you'll eat with me."
"I. Uh.” His belly cramped, but he nodded. “Okay. What do you want?"
"I'll have the grand slam, baby.” Those blue eyes were just eating him up like he was the main course.
"Eggs over easy and just bacon, no sausage.” He knew exactly how Jessy wanted it.
He ordered himself a bowl of chili and a side of fries, gave one of his tables their check and the other their food before finishing his soda in the back.
When he clocked out, he went to grab their food and then went over to sit in the booth. “Hey."
God, this was weird.
Deeply.
"Hey.” Jessy cleared his throat and then looked at him. “First of all, I'd like to apologize. Walter Shell came forward today and admitted that he spiked everyone's drinks. X in your soda."
Jessy cleared his throat again. “So I'm um ... I'm sorry that I assumed you'd knowingly taken it."
He looked down at his chili, knowing he wouldn't eat it. Couldn't. “Walt? He got us drinks when I was playing darts."
"He said it was a joke. Though I'm not sure what part of it he thought was supposed to be funny."
"Oh.” Wow. One hell of a joke. It derailed his whole life.
"Yeah. Oh. So you guys are still suspended for three months, but you'll be reinstated as soon as that time's up, no loss in ranking. Walter's been sanctioned by the ISO, he won't ever swim again. Christ, baby, I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to explain, but you didn't wait around to talk to me about it, either—you just ran away."
"It didn't matter.” He pushed the chili away. “You didn't believe me. There wasn't anything to talk about."
"Baby, you were telling me you didn't take anything—I could plainly see that you were high...” Jessy looked away, voice husky. “I was angry and hurt and all that I could see was that you'd thrown everything we were about into the toilet for a night of fun with your friends."
Mike nodded. “I know. That's why I left. If you thought I would do that? We sort of were in two different places.” He gathered up his uneaten food. “Thanks for letting me know. I would have always kind of wondered what had happened."
"Mike, please. Sit down."
He sighed, but nodded, sat, looking at his hands. Everything hurt, just like it had that first morning.
"You know, baby, in the over three months we were together, we never had one fight. Oh, we argued. Especially about the caffeine and chocolate, but we never really fought, did we? And then we hit a doozy and suddenly you're running away.” Jessy reached out, fingers touching his. “I know it's going to be a shock to you, baby, but I'm not perfect. And I'm not always going to do the right thing. And you can't punish me forever for this mistake. Well, you can, but then what kind of relationship did we have if we can't admit to our mistakes and forgive each other?"
"I didn't do anything wrong. I even followed the stupid caffeine rule. I did everything right and you didn't even believe for a second I hadn't taken something.” And fuck, but that still hurt.
"Mike. You may not have knowingly taken something, but you were high. You ingested a drug. I couldn't believe you'd done it. I didn't want to believe you'd done it. But you were fucking high. I was hurt and angry. You never even tried to explain. I'm not saying it wasn't wrong of me, but dammit, if you're going to hold it against me forever you might as well have knowingly taken that X."
"Huh?” He blinked over. “I got suspended. I got bitched out. I got drugged. I got in trouble. How am I the bad guy?"
"No, I'm not saying you're the bad guy, Mike. Not at all. You didn't do anything wrong. Except maybe the running away part. But if you just let it end like this. You and me ... I screwed up, Mike. I've admitted that. I've said I'm sorry. Come back. Don't close the book on us.” Jessy looked at him in the eye again, the look in those blue eyes vulnerable. “And if you won't come back to me, at least go back to UT and Samuels. You belong in the water, baby. You belong on the medal podium, wearing gold around your neck."
"I haven't been swimming since I left home.” It hurt his heart. Swimming and Jessy had somehow gotten all tangled up inside him.
Jessy closed his eyes, bit his lip. “Baby ... Come home. Please."
"I...” Oh, Jessy looked so sad. So lonely. “I can't. I sent the papers in already."
Jessy took a familiar envelope out of his pocket and slipped it across the table to Mike. “Samuels gave this to me. I want you to know, Mike—even if you go ahead and send it back to him I still want you to c
ome home. I don't care if you never swim another lap in a race, I'll still want you home with me."
Oh.
"I'll have to follow you. I have my bike here."
Jessy blinked at him for a moment and then hope leapt in those blue eyes. “Have you got a trailer for it or something so we could tow it?"
"Uncle Frank does, in the garage.” He ate one of his French fries. “I missed you. Lots."
"Yeah, me, too. I tried calling you a few days after you left. Figured you'd come back here.” Jessy was watching him, not touching his own food, just watching. “Your aunt was good enough to let me know you were just fine and that I shouldn't call back."
"Oh. She's sort of pissed off.” He'd cried some, thrown up a lot. “It's been real shitty. I hate waiting tables."
"Go tell them you've quit, baby, and let's go home."
"For real?” He met Jessy's eyes, biting his bottom lip.
"Forever, baby."
He nodded. “I promise, Jess. I wouldn't—wouldn't ever take something like that. I mean, I still feel bad when I drink my sodas."
"You should—they're strictly off-limits,” Jessy growled at him, but the look in those blue eyes was happy, hopeful. “I am sorry I jumped to conclusions, Mike. I promise to be better about giving you the benefit of the doubt in the future if you'll promise to stick around until we have a chance to talk things out."
He nodded. “Okay. Okay, that's fair.” Hell, he'd still been stoned when he'd made it to Kathy's.
"Okay. Well if we're going to head off tonight, we'd best get going.” Jessy stood and left some money on the table.
"I'll buy supper.” Mike stood, went over to Susan, taking off his apron. “I'm going back to Austin, I think."
She grinned. “Back to swimming, huh? You won't be giving a week's notice?"
"No. I'm sorry. I ... I need to go home."
Jessy's hand slid suddenly around his waist. “I'm sorry for the inconvenience, ma'am. But Mike belongs in Austin.” He could practically hear Jessy's silent “with me” at the end of that.
She nodded, grinned. “Mail me your uniform, Mikey. Good luck with the swimming thing."
He gave her a quick hug. “Thanks, Sue. So much."
Then he turned to Jessy. “Let's go."
