Gilded Lies

by Lin Lustig

  Emerson could smell the sheen of sweat on him, it was surprisingly sweet, like sun kissed soil. He breathed John's scent in deep and, for whatever reason, incited a huge reaction.

  John moaned and grabbed Emerson's thigh with one hand, the other snagged his jaw, tipping him up. Lips smothered lips. The kiss moved immediately to open for their tongues and—holy shit—John could kiss.

  Emerson grabbed John's hand and slid it higher on his thigh, pressing his hips into the pressure of his touch. When John hesitated, Emerson eased open the split in John's robe, pushing it back so he could feel skin on skin and brushed his arousal, his boxers doing little to hide his delicious size.

  Their kiss turned ragged. John sucked Emerson's lower lip into his mouth, then released. Emerson slid back enough to see the lust in John's expression. His hazel eyes darkened; his cheeks filled with color. Emerson leaned back in, trying not to imagine John's mouth working down his neck towards his—

  Then John's hand moved up over Emerson's erection and he moaned. He returned the favor. John made a strained sound, curling his fingers into the edges of Emerson's girth, making his jeans unbearably tight, the pressure enough to make him come. This was really happening. After months of wanting, he was touching him.

  John's eyes flew open with an echo of panic and he sprang away, jumping to his feet. Emerson moved back further into the bench, giving him space. His heavy breath sawed through the quiet trailer. Emerson felt lost in a sea of sensation and absence.

  “You okay?”

  John paced what little room the trailer had. “Not really. Need to think. This. Not. Yeah.”

  A pinch of disappointment edged Emerson's high. “Of course. If you change your mind, you know how to find me.” He brushed by John on his way out—not intentionally, but the trailer was small, and he wasn't a trim guy. John stilled, but Emerson knew he needed to decide on his own. John may have fucked hundreds of women, but as far as Emerson knew, he'd never been with a man.

  He shut the door behind him and felt an ache deep in his groin, pleading for touch, for release. He may never get to be with John like he wanted, but that kiss and John's hand grabbing his dick would serve as inspiration for months to come. An inspiration that had him searching for a private bathroom before lunch ended.

  Emerson lurched out of the vision, his awareness back to the living room, and hunched over to hide his sudden hard-on. Licia and Glen jumped at his jerky movement, but he hoped he hid himself enough for them to miss his tent. That stupid memory. Just because John had changed since then didn't mean he was a different person now, or ever. Were the visions trying to break his heart? Show him why he and John weren't right for each other? Well, thanks, but no thanks. That part was obvious and even then, Emerson couldn't surgically remove the way he felt for John. Of course he still loved that arrogant, self-obsessed, vain-as-Narcissus asshole.

  Still loved...

  Mother fucker.

  Tears invaded his sight. He convinced himself it was more out of frustration than the bits of his heart welding back together—whether he wanted them to or not.

  CHAPTER 38

  John

  Saturday morning after the interview, John’s fears were assuaged. The contract with Potent Studios for the Eshield film hadn't been immediately rejected. The role was still his. Everything else seemed to be crumbling around him, but at least that one little part of his life remained. Emerson hadn't spoken to him about the interview yet. Anytime John stepped into the same room Emerson found a reason to leave it. Maybe it was just in John's head, projecting his fears and imagining the worst.

  Social media had a more toxic approach to the situation, so after making a blanket statement, he signed out and ignored his phone.

  Both Em and Licia left the condo. Emerson texted that there were paparazzo out in front of the condo after the interview. John was advised to stay inside.

  Glen was still in the condo working remotely from a spare desk in the storage room. John was in the kitchen when he heard Glen call for him, so he popped his head in and admired how well Glen had organized what, previously, had been a disaster of extra equipment and John’s collection of “borrowed” items from each of his films.

  “The guest list for the gala is building. Looks like Aubrey will be there. If we can’t find her, then that might be our only in.”

  John leaned against the door and let out a tired breath. “Then I guess it’s a good thing Prisha wants me to go.”

  Glen gave John an unconcerned look and turned back to his computer. “I’ll keep looking, but she’s being careful this time.”

  John tapped his fingers on the doorframe until Glen gave him a pointed look. He stopped and held his hand together. “Thanks for the update.” He left Glen to it.

  He thought he'd hit the gym down on the first floor and rid himself of pent-up energy from multiple forms of frustrations. Frustrations that may have him dialing Prisha for a different kind of work out afterward.

  He was packing his gym bag with a fresh towel and water bottle when the intercom buzzed from the foyer. He abandoned his bag and crossed the condo to the entryway. He switched on the intercom screen. No one was in the frame. He poked the mic button and said, “Hello?”

  A ragged looking human mop coated in scarves and jackets waddled into view. The figure unwound a long scarf and slipped off a woolen hat to reveal space-black hair and deep brown eyes.

  “John?”

  He jammed the entry button and watched her catch the edge of the now-open door, disappearing off screen. Then he fumbled his phone free and dialed Licia's burner phone.

  “Licia, it's Azami. She's here.”

  “What?” Licia's voice came in over the sound of hammering in a hollow space. “Why?”

  “I don't know, just get back. She's better around you.”

  Licia swore. “Okay, give me a bit.” She hung up.

  Glen poked his head out as John tucked his phone away. “Are you running a boarding house or something?”

  “No. So you should go back to D.C. I don't have room for everyone.”

  Glen made a face and shut the door on their conversation. He knew getting him out while Licia was here would be next to impossible.

  John caught the hum of the elevator approaching the foyer. He finger-combed his hair and straightened his white workout tee. He'd rather be greeting her cleaned up and reliable—the hero she remembered, but she'd have to see him as just another failure eventually. The elevator doors opened and little Azami hesitated from within. She wore eight layers, or at least looked like it. The attire shaped her like a multicolored morel mushroom; all wide at the hips with coat over coat and textured knitting down to skinny legs layered in tights, knee socks and boots. He could only see half her face, but her eyes lit up.

  “Hey, kid. What brings you by?”

  Azami unwrapped what seemed like miles of scarf and set it aside on the bench. “I'm sorry for showing up unexpectedly.” She unbuttoned one coat, only to reveal another. “People were asking questions and I was afraid they'd recognize me.” Finally, she whittled down to a base layer of tights, a little black skirt, and a knobby sweater. Her straight black hair was exactly as he remembered, and although it had been years, she could still pass as the teenager he and Licia had liberated from WHRP.

  “You know you're always welcome.” Though he hoped none of the paparazzi had captured her visit.

  “If Licia had still been in Boston I'd have gone there, but since she's here...” Azami trailed off with a soft shrug.

  Azami had known Licia was in Boston?

  “We'll have to make some arrangements, but you're welcome to stay here. Licia should be back soon.” John could always sleep on the floor or shell out for another bed. Definitely the second option. “Her old friend Glen is staying here for a bit, too. It's a full house, but there's plenty of room.”

  The elevator hummed again, the cables twanging lightly as the car moved down. John hoisted Azami's bag onto his shoulder and led her into
the living room. He plopped her bag on the couch and offered her a drink, then served her a glass of water just as the elevator doors slid open again.

  Emerson's heavy footfalls paused, the sound of shoes dropping, then he strolled into the living room with his arms full of grocery bags. Their food bill must have tripled over the last week with everyone staying here, but with the new contract he didn't have to worry about funds running out. Azami moved behind John with her head slightly bowed, but not in submission. More like she was trying to disappear entirely.

  Emerson set down the canvas bags and spotted the rolling suitcase on the couch. “Whose is... that.” He leaned to the side and spotted her.

  “Em, this is Azami. Azami this is my bo—” he caught himself. “Bodyguard. He's like us.”

  Emerson's expression hardened as John said it, like John had no right to out him to a stranger, but then he looked again at Azami and John could see the dots connect. “Azami.”

  John met his gaze and nodded. Emerson seemed almost awed. John stepped aside so Azami was forced into the center. She was twenty-six now, free for over a decade, but he'd always wondered if part of her had never recovered. She let out a shaking breath and glanced up at Emerson.

  “Nice to meet you. I'm Azami Hisakawa.” She dipped her chin. “It's nice to meet another one of us.”

  “I'm Emerson Caldwell. It's nice to meet you too. Here, let me show you to the theater room.”

  “Put her in with Licia,” John said. Azami visibly relaxed.

  Emerson gave him a look that said, put-this-poor-woman-together-with-a-murderer?

  “I'd like that, thank you.” Azami grabbed her pile of coats and scarves and waited for Emerson to lead. He did so with a baffled look.

  Glen popped back out of his room and caught the tail end of Emerson and Azami entering Licia's room, then tip-toed out to the living room and approached John. “She's going to stay in Licia's room?”

  “You're not the only one drawn in by her.”

  “I'm pretty sure your ex is the only one who isn't.”

  “I hate it when I agree with you.” John crossed his arms.

  Glen shrugged, then pulled off his glasses and fogged them up, cleaning them on the underside of his shirt.

  “You never met Azami before, did you?” John couldn't remember if they crossed paths when he and Licia had freed her.

  “No, but I keep tabs on her, too. She's been in Florida for about eighteen months studying medicine.” He put his glasses back on.

  “You've been watching her?”

  Glen laughed. “Not like that. I track where you and the others I’ve found are.”

  John paled. “You need to stop.” The idea of someone having tabs on where they all were at any given time raised all the red flags. “With our specialized kind outed, there's bound to be someone who would take that information and hunt us down.”

  Glen wrinkled his brow as he thought on that. “It's all secure.” When John turned to face Glen straight on, he shrank back. “I'll purge the data now that you're all together. Except Arissa and her girlfriend, but we're in regular enough contact no one would think it strange.”

  “Exactly how many of us have you found?” No wonder he'd never felt comfortable around Glen. His obsessive attachment to following Abnormals was alarming. What did he want with them? Following Licia out of infatuation was one thing, but this was something else.

  “Seven. You, Licia, Emerson, Azami, Arissa and her girlfriend, and now Tarrah inside UHP.”

  And that was only on the east coast. How many of them were there out there, really? John turned away from Glen and started putting away the groceries Emerson had abandoned on the kitchen counter. There was a mound of dishes in the sink smelling vaguely of tuna, all waiting to be transferred to the already-full dishwasher. Having two additional house guests was already a strain, and now Azami was here.

  Glen filled a glass with water and returned to his makeshift office. Then the hum of the elevator started as it was recalled before returning with Licia. She toed off her shoes in a hurry and stood in the living room with her eyebrows raised expectantly.

  “Well?” A tendril of curiosity and expectation squeezed his chest. As if her voice magically summoned her, Azami peeked out, then padded down the hall more energetically than she’d been before.

  Licia turned towards her as her eyebrows darted up towards her hairline in concern. “Is everything okay?”

  Azami padded towards her in muffled steps and hugged Licia, who returned it with a grin—a real one. He wasn't sure he'd ever get her to smile like that, but he wanted to. As far as he knew, Licia was the only person Azami would touch without reservation. After years of needles, tests, and dubious consent, she was hyper-sensitive to contact. Licia, on the other hand, was more like petting an asp. Sure, you could probably get away with it here and there, but eventually she'd strike. Yet, they allowed it with each other. Guards down, trust in full. John wasn't sure he had that with anyone anymore.

  “I was afraid they'd find out who I was from the news.” Azami explained.

  “I'm glad you're here.” Licia squeezed Azami and then pulled back. John shifted to high alert in case Licia was actually bothered by the contact, but there were no emotional flare ups.

  Azami met John's eyes briefly. “It's only a matter of time until my information is leaked again.” For the first year after they’d exposed Aubrey, there had been a missing persons alert for Azami. It had probably been put out by the others on Aubrey’s team before the entirety of WHRP had shut down. Licia had used some contacts after that to get the alert removed.

  “We have a lot to get you caught up on. Come on.” Licia sat down on the couch, staying close, then she told her about the visions, about Tarrah, and about Aubrey’s reappearance. John had been so wrapped up in Abnormals being outed and coming out in support that he hadn't yet figured out a way to find Tarrah to free her. If she was with Aubrey, then Tarrah was either somewhere in New York or D.C. He didn’t know how active Aubrey was in either location, and Glen hadn’t said New York City, just New York. She might be upstate, for all they knew. The problem was there were too many UHP locations to comb through in Manhattan alone, let alone the entire state. The gala might be the only option he had to find out more.

  Like Tarrah, Azami was powerful. She was impervious to illness, but not injury. She aged, her cells grew and died like anyone's, but viruses, bacteria, even genetic mutations bounced off her like throwing rubber balls at a concrete wall. UHP's test for ability scores hadn’t come out until after WHRP had crashed, but John knew that her score would be high. The woman could cure almost anything with her blood, but she'd been experimented on—tortured. John couldn't blame her for hiding.

  Glen came back out and Licia introduced them. “Yes, I know,” Glen said to Azami without warmth. He looked at her like she was a rare zoo animal.

  “I'll make tea.” Licia excused herself while they made small talk about the weather. She bumped into John as she filled the electric kettle. “Sorry.”

  He stepped aside so she could finish, but she paused with the water running and lowered her voice. “I should give Azami the guest room alone.”

  “I was thinking of some rearrangements as well. Emerson should have the guest room since he, you know, pays to live here. That couch is going to destroy his back.”

  “He has a room. Not my problem if he refuses to use it.” She set the kettle back and switched the button to on.

  “Come on,” John begged.

  “Fine. I'll move the love seat into your room and sleep there. Azami can take the couch in the theater room, and Emerson can have the guest room.”

  John quirked an eyebrow. “You want to sleep with me?”

  Like a record scratch, the two in the living room dropped their conversation and lasered in on them.

  “Not like that!” Licia squeaked.

  “You know I sleep naked.” He grinned at her displeasure.

  “I changed my mind. I'll sle
ep in the bathtub.”

  Glen looked cross. “I thought you had standards.”

  John barked a laugh as Licia scowled. Emerson emerged from the back of the condo and joined them in the living room. Just seeing Emerson made John itch to release his effervescent vibe, damn his Pavlovian response. Only a week without regular touch and already John felt like his control was collapsing.

  Emerson looked like he was ready to run at the sight of him. It didn't look like they'd be able to keep up their give and take, no matter how much either of them needed it.

  “I'll just be downstairs in the gym,” John said. Give Emerson a chance to decompress in his own home without him.

  “I'm going to rearrange the master bedroom while you're gone.” Licia's scowl hadn't entirely disappeared.

  “I never expected to run a home for wayward Abnormals,” John let out a lazy breath. “Fine. But ignore the boxes of porn under the bed.”

  Licia pursed her lips to the left. “You seriously need porn?”

  “Need? No. Enjoy? Yes.” He escaped to the foyer to put on his running shoes.

  Licia half-followed him. “I'm wearing gloves if I have to touch your porn.”

  “Oh no, no. The porn is clean. It's the tool kit you'll want hand sanitizer for.”

  Licia threw up her hands. He grinned at the tendril of playful frustration brushing him and almost felt guilty for having a reason to smile.

  CHAPTER 39

  Emerson

  Emerson sagged in relief when John left. How was he supposed to act around him? Or talk to him now that he'd been forced to accept that his love hadn't changed? Right now, the only answer he had was to not do anything.

  He didn't know what to make of Azami. She had a reserved, private air, but also a childlike spark in her that made Emerson hungry for her energy. Starvation was beginning to set in and no amount of Synthroid would keep his body running. John would give him some of his energy if he asked, but it felt like taking advantage of him. Emerson knew where his heart wanted to go but accepting John back in meant accepting a lot of things that he couldn't forgive. Just because he still loved him didn't mean they were good for each other.