by Andrew Grey
“That’s pretty cool of you,” Scott said after Brent interpreted for him.
Lee looked right at Scott. “I want my mom and dad to be happy.” Lee smiled. “And maybe if she and Dad can restart their lives together, she’ll stop hovering so much and let me have a life of my own.”
“Ulterior motives, I like it,” Dean said.
“Why?” Lee asked, confused.
“Because people tend to think that because we have a disability, we’re perfect. We sit quietly, behave, we’re friendly, and sweet—all that crap,” James said. “And we aren’t. We’re just like everyone else. We can hate, get pissed off, and even be jealous and bitchy.”
Trevor rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.”
James smacked Trevor on the leg. “You be nice.”
“I was just agreeing with you,” Trevor said playfully, gathering James in his arms. “You aren’t perfect. Sometimes you snore at night, and you definitely hog the bed.” Trevor was clearly having a good time. “Even worse, you’re unbelievably sloppy in the bathroom, and you never see it.”
“I guess there is a plus side to being blind,” James teased right back, and Trevor kissed him. Then James leaned closer, whispering something. Trevor’s eyes widened, and danged if he didn’t snicker. “Okay.” James stood, and Trevor did as well. “Trevor will see all of you on Monday. He has someplace else he needs to be.”
Trevor gazed at James adoringly as the two of them left the house. Dean couldn’t help smiling at their happiness and wishing to hell he had someone to be that deliriously happy with.
“We should go as well,” Brent said. “Lee, do you want us to take you home?”
“I’ll do it,” Dean offered.
Brent and Scott said good night and left as well.
“Let me clean up all these dishes, and then I can drive you home,” Dean offered, and began taking things into the kitchen. He was just putting the dishes in the sink and throwing away the trash when Lee came from behind him.
“I can help.”
Dean nearly dropped the last of the trash as he carried it to the garbage container.
“What do you want me to do?” Lee asked.
There really wasn’t anything. “I have a few dishes that need to be washed.” Dean checked the sink to make sure there was nothing sharp, then plugged it and began running water. He guided Lee up to it and let him get his hands sudsy. Actually, Dean flashed on an image of Lee all covered in suds, and it made him shiver.
“Where do you want me to put them?” Lee asked, and Dean took the rinsed plates, drying them as Lee washed. “This was the first chore I had to do after I went blind. Mom taught me where everything went in the kitchen, and I did the dishes. I can do a lot of things now, but I’m only allowed to cook in the microwave.”
“You’re doing a better job than I usually do,” Dean said, just watching Lee in between drying dishes. He was so intent and careful. “There isn’t much more.”
Lee washed each of the utensils and placed them on the dry side of the divided sink, then rinsed them. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” Dean said as he finished drying the dishes and Lee let out the water. “I should take you home.” Dang, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was the right thing. Lee deserved to be treated well, and that meant taking him home tonight. Lee was different from all those other guys, and Dean intended to show him that he was.
DEAN SAT with Lee in his car, parked across the street from Lee’s house, and sighed. He didn’t want this to end. This time with Lee had been special.
“Do you need assistance getting to the house?”
“No. I’m fine.”
Dean suspected that Lee knew every step and crack in the concrete by heart, but he had wanted to ask. Lee reached for the door handle, and Dean gently stroked his arm. Lee paused and then turned to him. Dean drew closer, breathing more heavily, his fingers sliding along Lee’s jaw. He wanted to guide him somehow, but the subtle ways he might usually do it were closed to him.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispered.
Lee nodded and leaned nearer. Dean closed the distance between them, tasting Lee’s lips. He shut his eyes, sinking into the sensation and warmth. Lee’s moan, barely audible, sent a ripple of excitement through him.
“I don’t want to go,” Lee confessed.
“Then stay here with me for a while.” Dean scooted as close as he could, holding Lee in his arms. It was awkward, but he didn’t care. When Lee turned toward him, Dean touched Lee’s chin, kissing him even harder this time.
Passion and want threatened to overwhelm him, but Dean intended to keep his promise to himself. He slowly backed away and released Lee. “Good night.” He barely kept himself from pulling Lee to him again and was tempted to ask him to come home, but he held back. That was the right thing to do. “I’ll see you at work.”
Lee opened the door, got out, and made his way across the quiet street and then up the walkway to the door. Dean stayed, watching until Lee disappeared inside the house.
Chapter 4
LEE WAS ready and waiting for Dean to pick him up after lunch.
“What has you so worked up?” his mother asked. His dad had gone into the office for the morning and wasn’t home yet.
“I’m waiting for a friend, and we’re going to the Audubon Center,” Lee explained, holding his small duffel on his lap.
“Why the bag?” Suspicion hollowed out her tone. “What are you really planning?” She sat next to him on the sofa. “I saw the two of you last night. It looked like you were kissing in his car.” Of course his mother had been staring out the window, probably getting scolded by his dad but ignoring it.
Lee didn’t want to answer, so he deflected. “Did you and Dad have a fun night?”
“That’s none of your business,” she countered, and Lee huffed, suppressing a smile. Clearly they had had some fun. Good for them.
“Dean and I are going hiking, and he said he had a surprise for me after. He told me I should bring some shorts and a T-shirt.”
His mother hummed under her breath, which meant she was upset. “Is this the same Dean who is going to be your boss?”
“I’ll be working with him, but Trevor is still my boss.” Lee heard Dean’s car and stood. “I’ll be back this evening.” He opened the door to leave.
“What time?” she snapped, and Lee was tempted to not answer. But after all she’d done for him, he couldn’t be that mean.
“I don’t know. Probably after dinner. Why don’t you call some friends? Break out the booze and have the time of your life.” He flashed her a smile that he hoped would send the message that he was kidding. Most of the time, his expressions sucked. He understood them because he’d seen them and all, but his memories of those details were fading. “Go wild, grab Dad, and have some fun.” He waved, then closed the door and headed down the driveway toward the humming engine.
“Is this one of the cars you’re working on?” he asked Dean when he reached the car and heard his footsteps.
“Yeah. It’s a ’78 Camaro. It’s almost done. I’ll have to sell it eventually, but for now it’s fun to drive.”
Lee felt his way along the car, taking in the lines of the body until he reached the door. He pulled it open, got inside, and located the seat belt.
“All set?” Dean asked.
“Yeah. I’m ready for whatever you have to show me.” Lee sat back and did his best to get comfortable.
“Hold out your hands,” Dean said, and Lee lifted his hands. Dean placed something cold and steely into them.
Lee slowly ran his hand along the part until he reached the knob. “No way!” he said with a grin.
“Yup. A friend of a friend had the gear shift I’ve been looking for. It’s off a Cobra that crashed outside Chicago. The car was totaled, but they kept whatever parts they could, and this is one of them.” Dean sounded so happy, Lee could almost see it. Hell, he was too. It would be exciting to work on the classic piece of American eng
ineering and design.
Dean took the gear shift and set it on the floor of the back seat. At least, that’s where Lee thought he dropped it, given the thunk behind him.
“I thought I’d give you your surprise first. It’s just a few miles away.” Dean pulled out, and Lee couldn’t help wondering what Dean had in store for him. With his mom, he often asked a million questions about where they were and what they were doing, but with Dean, he sat back, content to let him do the driving and a little excited about this surprise.
“Did you have any aftereffects from drinking that stuff at the club last night?” Dean asked.
“No.” Lee still felt like a doofus. Usually he was better at recognizing voices, but he’d just assumed it had been Scott who’d given him the drink and hadn’t been paying much attention. “I slept pretty well, but maybe I was still a bit groggy from the drug.” All he knew was that he never wanted to be in that kind of situation again.
“That’s good,” Dean said. He continued driving, then pulled off the road and presumably into a parking lot. The car stopped and the engine stilled. “Grab your bag, and I’ll come around to guide you inside.”
Lee got out and waited. Dean took his arm, closed the car door, and guided him through the parking lot. A few cars were either in the process of leaving or coming in, so he stayed close to Dean. It was a very foreign place, and he was trying to pick up on any audible markers that might tell him his location.
A wall of sound reached him. “We’re going inside.”
“What is this?” There were men talking and rhythmic slaps and clicks. Lee inhaled the scent of sweat, lots of bodies, and men. “Is it a gym?”
“Yes, of sorts.” Dean held him still. “Hey, Race. This is Lee.”
“Good to meet you.” Race whistled. “You really are blind.”
“What were you doing, waving your hand in front of me or making stupid faces? I’ve seen it all…. No wait, I haven’t, not for a while.”
Race laughed, and so did Dean. “Glad you have a sense of humor,” Race said. “Why don’t you both head on back and change.”
Lee cleared his throat. “Why are we here?” he asked.
“This is a boxing gym. You said the other day that you sometimes wished you could hit something because you get so frustrated. So I thought you should try out this place. Race is a pro, and he’s offered to work with you.”
“To box?”
“No. We’re going to work you out on the bag. I have a pair of gloves for you, and you’re going to hit it. You can pretend the bag is anyone you like. Personally, I prefer to picture my ex, the lying bastard. Who do you want to picture?”
“My mom sometimes. The guy at the club definitely, though I don’t really know what he looked like.”
“Cowboy hat, big, tall….”
“And stinky.” Lee curled his nose. “I’ll imagine that I’m hitting stinky.”
“What did this stinky guy in a cowboy hat do?” Race asked.
Dean cleared his throat. “He slipped Lee a mickey and tried to take him home. A real slimebag.” Dean patted his shoulder. “Lee handled himself great, but I thought he could use a workout to take out some frustration and maybe learn to defend himself a bit.”
“Then let’s get started,” Race said.
Dean guided him toward the back. The clang of a steel locker opening in front of him told Lee he was in a locker room, not that he could mistake that nose-clearing scent of too many unwashed guys. Lee changed his clothes and put on the shorts and T-shirt that he’d brought. He felt really out of place, as if everyone was staring at him like he didn’t belong here. This was so incredibly foreign to him.
“Don’t be nervous,” Dean whispered.
“I’m trying.” Lee finished and waited for Dean, afraid to move from his spot. A locker clanged closed, and Dean took his arm.
“We’re in the first bay of lockers, the second one from the end. All you need to do is take a step, turn right, and the door is in front of you.”
“Thanks,” Lee said, then reached for the door and pushed it open. “How do you two know each other?” he asked, when he sensed Race’s scent beside them.
“Dean restored my Jaguar for me. I got it at an auction for next to nothing, and he brought her back to life. Now she’s absolutely gorgeous. I’ve been asking him to come down here for a long time, so when he called, I was a little surprised but thrilled,” Race said. Then he led Lee a few steps inside the gym. “Now, what I need you to do is put your hands out. I’m going to help you put the gloves on, and then I’ll show you how to use the bag.”
“Hey, Race,” a deep, rich voice said. “You want to work with me?”
“No, Luke. Every time anyone works out with you, they end up black and blue,” Race called back, helping Lee into the gloves one hand at a time.
“No they don’t,” Luke argued like a petulant child. “Do either of you want to work out?”
“Luke, not everyone who comes through those doors wants to spar. Lee is here to work out on the bag, and Dean brought him. So get your gigantic self over here and say hello.” When Lee stiffened, Race told him quietly, “Just hold your gloves out and Luke will tap them. It’s the greeting here.”
Lee complied, and the force in the tap was enough for him to drop his arms.
“You’re a small one, that’s for sure.”
Flesh slapped flesh, and Lee scowled, hoping there wasn’t a fight.
“Luke, you big dope. Lee can’t see you flexing your muscles. He’s blind, and he’s here to learn how to use the bag. Maybe I’ll let him wail on you for a while.”
The sharp tang of arousal cut the air, and Lee wondered if Luke might have liked that idea.
“Go on back to your workout.” Then Race turned back to Lee. “I think we’re ready for you.”
“Just how big was that guy?” Lee asked.
“Huge. Fighting him would be like fighting the Abominable Snowman,” Dean said with a chuckle. “Like from Rudolph.”
“I got the reference.” Lee smiled up in Dean’s direction, his belly fluttering a little with nerves and excitement.
Race touched his arm, his hands rough like Dean’s, but with none of the little tingles that always came along when Dean touched him. “Take a step forward and then up onto the mat. You don’t need to go fast. There you are.” Race dropped his arm. “Now, I need you to move to the left just a little. Okay, perfect. The bag is right in front of you. I’m going to take your hand and place it on the bag so you can feel it.” Race did as he said. “Okay.” He lowered Lee’s hand slightly. “That’s it. Feel where your hands are. That’s how you need to hit it. Not from the side, but straight on. Keep your wrist tight and bring the power from your body.” Race stepped back.
“Is the bag going to swing?” Lee pushed it a little, but it barely moved. It was really heavy, and he punched it lightly, seeing if it was going to hurt.
“Maybe a little, but not much. Go ahead and hit it, straight on.”
Lee complied, his fist smacking the leather. He expected it to hurt as he hit harder, but it didn’t. The glove was just padded enough.
“You’re doing good,” Dean said. “Imagine the bag is the guy at the club.”
Lee paused and then planted his feet and punched the bag hard, putting his whole body into it. Then he hit it again, and again. The scent of the man wafted around him, his voice honeyed and sickly-sweet, ringing in his ears. Lee punched again and again, feeling relieved to be doing something, anything, to make himself feel like a man.
“Very good. But make sure your hands are straight.” Race touched his shoulder, and Lee put his hands down. “Like this. Remember to hit right here.” Race touched his hands and positioned him in front of the bag once again.
Lee closed his sightless eyes and hit the bag again and again, shifting the image from the man at the club to his frustrations over how his world had changed and the fact that he wished he had his life back.
Punch, punch, jab.
His frustrations came forward, and he channeled them into his fists. And then those frustrations flowed into life in general and how fucking unfair shit was.
Punch, jab, jab.
Lee sank into the rhythm of the exercise, letting himself go, faster and faster. As he got more confident, he punched harder, his heart pounding in his ears.
Hit, jab, punch.
His mind raced on waves of aggression, pulverizing the things he never dared express into dust. The bag now swung to meet him, and he punched harder, faster as adrenaline raced through him at lightning speed.
“Damn, he has a good punch,” someone said from behind him.
The voice wasn’t familiar, but Lee didn’t stop. He was too in the zone. He parted his lips, gulping air as he continued pounding the bag, muttering under his breath until his arms ached all the way up to his shoulder.
Jab, jab, jab, punch, jab, jab.
Then finally spent, he dropped to the mat, breathing hard, his entire body shaking and covered in sweat.
Dean was right there, his strong, sure hands on his shoulders. And then he was kneeling behind him, holding him tightly as Lee let go of his built-up hatred and despair he always seemed to carry with him.
“It isn’t fair,” he groaned.
“No, it’s not,” Dean said softly. “I think fairness has very little to do with anything, and it’s okay to feel that way.”
Lee inhaled deeply and sighed, realizing he was making a spectacle of himself in front of a bunch of strangers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, then took a deep breath, feeling better now that the inner turmoil had quieted. He was wrung out, and that in itself felt good, cleansing.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. This is why I brought you here, so you could release the tension inside you, get it out.” Dean shifted and took the gloves off, then pressed a cold bottle into his hand. “Here’s some water. Take a drink and let yourself come down.”
Lee drank almost all of it before getting to his feet. Man, he was tired and worn out.
“That was something else,” one of the guys said, patting him on the shoulder.
