Question Mark

by Culpepper, S. E.

  With the nerves rising, Zane had called his mom the night before and she’d asked why he was so wrapped up in an affair that was abounding in roadblocks—and this was before Zane found out about Christian. She asked why he didn’t take this struggle as a sign to look for something simpler. Zane could do that, of course, but he didn’t lie when he told her that no matter who he chose to be with, they would have a slew of additional issues that most couples didn’t have to face and he really wanted to put the effort into this relationship. He was struck by lightning meeting Mark and the after-effects kept him tingling to this moment. Only now, that tingle was accompanied by a fair amount of hurt.

  Zane lifted his eyes to the ceiling and whispered a plea that caught in his throat before sliding past his lips. “Please don’t let him break my heart…”

  ***

  Bill Austen’s fiancée, Kerin, and their eight month old daughter were due in England mid-week and Zane gladly abandoned his slide into depression to get out of the hotel and go with his friend to sign a short-term lease on some cottage. He couldn’t blame his friend for wanting his family with him to stay somewhere that wouldn’t give them cabin fever. Neither Zane nor Bill would actually be around much with the shooting schedule, but Kerin would go bonkers cooped up in a hotel suite.

  Zane was simply glad for something to do to occupy his mind. Across the ocean, his man was prepping to meet up with a shark, and there was nothing to be done but wait for Mark to call once his friendly little dinner was over. It made Zane’s stomach turn picturing the way that little prick, Christian, had honed in on Mark like a delicious snack. Trusting Mark was possible; trusting Christian was out of the question. Zane had no doubt the guy was heading to New Mexico loaded for bear. He’d get into town in full-on seduction mode.

  Fantastic. Great hairy balls.

  Bill seemed to sense something was up, but kindly refrained from pestering and instead talked history and geography, downshifting into World War II trivia that was surprisingly interesting to listen to. Zane, whose best subjects in school were more creative than bookish actually found himself asking questions.

  He knew a lot about Richtfeld, but the rest of his WWII knowledge was piecemeal. Zane could name some famous generals and some famous battles, jabber on about Pearl Harbor, but beyond that, he sort of floundered in the facts.

  The hotel where Zane and most of the cast was staying was actually rather small as far as some of the places he’d been put up during filming, but his suite was quiet, private, and had a nice amount of room. If he’d wanted more space, he could’ve done what Bill was doing and find a rental, but he was okay where he was for now. If it became a hassle, Zane would stay on set in his trailer…get a sleeping bag or something.

  The paparazzi knew where the cast was staying and special security measures were being taken, like bodyguards accompanying them to and from set and whenever they wanted to get out. There were also more security guards at the hotel. Today, he and Bill had waved away the bodyguard. Sometimes having a hulking bear of a man striding behind them everywhere they went garnered more attention than if they set out on their own. Besides, this was meant to be a quick trip to sign some papers and grab a bite at a pub. Zane was hopeful they could preserve some anonymity. He and Bill were both decked out in low riding baseball caps and sunglasses.

  Bill had done a lot of filming in the UK, so he was accustomed to the driving and knew how to get them from point A to point B. It left Zane the opportunity to sight-see through the window as they traveled. They were in a truly beautiful area and it made Zane think about Mark just about every other second. He wished they could share this.

  The production company had received approval to film at one of the old RAF bases that the U.S. had leased once upon a time and which had been converted to a memorial for the B-17 bomber crews. Zane’s character flew with the 354th Fighter Group, the first unit to take the P-51 Mustang into combat escorting heavy bombers in the strategic bombing campaign. Richtfeld and his fellow pilots became the highest scoring aerial fighter unit in the US Army Air Force.

  When the cast wasn’t rehearsing, he and the other “pilots” were in the back lot buildings doing stunt workups and more training on the WWII era equipment. Zane also did his workouts there—his trainer emailed him new exercises every week. Filming actually began tomorrow with the Second Unit doing the aerial shots and panoramics of the base. Most of the scenes for later in the week had already been blocked out using body doubles. Zane’s first call was on Wednesday. He and Bill were shooting a bar scene where they get hammered and then get screwed by some willing London ladies before their liberty passes expire and they have to chug it back to base. Might as well start filming with a bang. Hardy har.

  Whatever. This schedule crap running through his head was a lousy distraction. For every thought about work, he had another of Tommy Tattoo getting his grubby hands all over Mark. It made him wish vile things upon that kid.

  Maybe Zane was being insensitive. Mark sure seemed sympathetic to Christian’s coming out woes. It wasn’t easy letting that horse free, Zane knew that better than most, but Mark didn’t have to be the kid’s spiritual guide, for crap’s sake. Get a therapist. Call a fucking hotline!

  I’m all for guys coming out of the closet, he thought, but I’d like it a lot better if this shitbird came out in somebody else’s house.

  Zane made like a shadow in the background as Bill finalized his lease agreement with the letting agent, a pretty woman named Susan with auburn hair that flowed down to her waist. She was incredibly professional, but they didn’t miss the way her hands shook as she walked Bill through the paperwork. Her accent was off the charts perfect and listening to her outline the dates, requirements, and small print almost snapped Zane out of his funk. Her voice was almost lyrical.

  When Bill finished and shook her hand, she blushed furiously and stepped around her desk with her phone in her hand. “I-I hate to be inappropriate, but I simply cannot pass on this opportunity. Would it be terribly rude to ask for a picture with you two?”

  Bill beamed and Zane smiled his assent as well and they all scooted in close so she could get them in her tiny camera lens. Susan took a few shots and skipped away like she couldn’t believe her luck.

  Bill started toward the door then stopped and spun back around. “Do me a favor?”

  “Absolutely,” she breathed.

  “Say something for me.” She looked disconcerted but nodded. “Say to me, ‘The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plains.’”

  Zane snickered as she hesitated. “It’s the accent. It’s…”

  “I’m in love with it,” Bill interrupted.

  Susan’s smile was huge and her eyes shone as she said the line for him. Bill put his hand to his heart and let his head fall back and she nearly giggled. “I’ll remember this moment forever,” he sighed.

  Zane laughed again and pushed Bill out the door ahead of him. About six steps from the building they both heard the excited squeak Susan finally let out and they cracked up. They didn’t head to the car since a pub was only a short walk away, and as they crossed the street Zane asked him what Kerin would think of what just happened.

  “You kidding me? She’d leave me for Susan and never look back. It’s all in the accent. People with accents never break up. They stay together for eternity,” he smirked.

  “I can think of about twenty examples of how that’s not true right this second.”

  “Those are all flukes, I assure you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  What Mark thought of as “The Snowball of Awfulness” probably started rolling downhill about thirteen seconds after Christian walked into the hotel’s restaurant. He was right on time, dressed casually in jeans and a black sweater. In what seemed like a personal challenge to Mark’s vow of keeping things low key, Christian was sizzling. Women and some men watched him make his way between the tables. Mark wondered what they would think if they saw all of the guy’s ink beyond what was visible on his neck,
which wasn’t that much.

  Wait a second… Mark didn’t even know how far all the tattoos went. And he should definitely not spend any time wondering about it. His mind flashed a yellow caution light at him and he took several deep breaths. He thought of Zane, the wonderful man that he was; how he was waiting to hear from Mark, and it calmed him down immediately.

  The attraction Mark had for both men was completely different. Christian was compelling while Zane was consuming. All he had to think about were the few kisses they’d shared and the whole passion-interruptus bit, courtesy of Sean, to know that Zane was worth the wait and worth avoiding a sexy, determined young man for. With Christian it would be like adolescent pumping and sweating for Mark, nothing more, because his heart wasn’t in it. If Christian needed to get off so badly, he could go home and give himself a tug.

  Mark was sliding out of his side of the booth to offer his hand when Christian caught him completely off guard and pulled him into a hug. Not just any hug either. No back slapping, no quick release. It was an actual hug and as he pulled back to get a look at Mark, he let his hands slide down over Mark’s arms, lingering on the skin until it was covered in goose bumps.

  The heat pulsed up through Mark’s body and he nearly stumbled as he back pedaled into his seat. Christian gave him a sly look but didn’t question it as he took up residence across the booth.

  “You look different,” Mark croaked, trying to get his bearings.

  Christian cocked his head and shrugged. “With the week I’ve had, I’m not surprised.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant…hell, I don’t know.”

  “Forget about it,” he waved away Mark’s rambling. “I am different. Stressed out. Spun up. And yet…” His fingers danced lazily over the coaster resting on the tabletop and he glanced at Mark beneath his lashes. “It’s good to see you again. After you ditched me in Tahiti, I didn’t think I’d get another opportunity.”

  “I didn’t ditch you in Tahiti,” Mark sighed.

  “Of course you did. It’s not a big deal, though. I saw the way you were with our action hero and you know I’ve seen all the tabloid shit. So imagine my surprise when our event manager goes on maternity leave and I get assigned to come to good old Albuquerque. Well, maybe surprised isn’t the way to put it. Pleased is better. Especially because I had to specifically request it. That might make me your destiny.”

  Mark fought rolling his eyes and signaled their server. “I thought you’d give it a few minutes before you jumped into the come-ons. And for you to be my destiny, something tells me it wouldn’t require so much effort on your end.”

  “Ouch.” Christian winced, but the inviting smile was still there. “You don’t take me seriously.”

  The server arrived before Mark could answer and he smiled in relief. Less than five minutes with Christian pounding away at his defenses and Mark felt like he was losing ground. He thought of how many times he’d wished to be pursued by someone and the adage of being careful what he wished for was ringing in his ears. Christian was the Navy Seal of flirtation, finding weaknesses and infiltrating. Mark thought he was putting out a good prickly vibe and the next second, Christian had him blushing and aww-shucksing over a look or a few words.

  He ordered a vodka soda while Christian ordered a water with lemon. Terrific. Mark would have to eat like a goat to make sure he didn’t get drunk and start taking his clothes off. When he finally looked back at Christian after the server left with the drink and dinner order, he found the other man staring with an expectant expression. “What?” Mark snapped.

  Christian laughed, acting positively tickled for a guy who just broke up with his girlfriend, confessed that he was gay, and moved out. It was pissing Mark off a little.

  “You. You’re putting a lot of effort into keeping me at arm’s length. Think I don’t see that stern brow and hard jaw? Think it doesn’t turn me on twice as much?”

  Mark scowled in response, which only led to more laughter.

  “Oh, do it again, baby, you’re making me crazy.”

  “Fuck you.” Mark grumbled as he took a hearty gulp of the drink the server dropped off.

  “Your place or mine?”

  When Mark acted like he was going to get up and leave, Christian actually flopped over on his bench seat, laughing until tears started in his eyes. He waved him back into his seat and gave a final chuckle or two as Mark stared back moodily.

  “God, you make it so easy to rattle you. I’ll stop. Promise. Or I’ll slow down at least. I don’t think I can stop entirely.”

  Mark concentrated on the table top, mostly so he didn’t have to make eye contact. A change of subject was in order.

  “Anything new since we last talked? How’re things with Kat and stuff?” His questions were met with silence that stretched out until the awkwardness forced Mark to glance up. Christian wasn’t looking at him, he was watching Mark with those burning hazel eyes. He propped his arms on the back of the booth and frowned.

  “What’s your real question? What are you trying to ask me under all the insincere ‘Kat and stuff’ business?”

  Mark bristled. If Christian was allowed to get stuffy and pissed, then there was no reason for Mark to hold back either. “You’re such a prick sometimes. Why is it that on the phone you can tell me about everything that’s going on with you—or ask me about my life and actually listen to the answer, but in person you’re hell bent on hiding all of that behind sex?”

  Christian finally broke the thousand yard stare and mumbled something under his breath. Mark pounced on it, glad to see a chance at easier emotional footing.

  “Christian, I know you’re not this guy—this megawatt all-sex-all-the-time guy. It’s exhausting fending you off because I’m not even all that sure you would want me if I really gave you the chance.”

  “I’d want you…” he whispered. “If you really gave me a chance, I’d take it.”

  “I don’t think so.” Mark assessed him with a quick up and down flick of his eyes. “You want to feel the way you did with that Kevin guy and I think you actually believe that any man you get with will satisfy your craving. After that you can go your way, happy for a little while until you get the urge to screw around, then all this emotional drama will heat up again and you’ll be breaking it off with your next fake girlfriend.”

  “Thanks, Professor.” Christian smiled again but this time it was cold. His body language started speaking loud and clear. Not Open For Discussion.

  Mark sank lower in his seat and decided to let it go. “Fine. You don’t want to talk about Kat. I get it.”

  “No, I don’t. Not about her and not about what she knows about me. I don’t want to talk about what breaking up with her means—‘cause to me, it doesn’t have to mean anything.” LIAR, Mark thought. “I’m not where you are in your life and I doubt I ever will be,” Christian finished.

  Mark nearly spat out the drink he’d just taken. “My life comes across as warm and fuzzy? You think you lose everything if you admit you’re gay, but you never think about whether or not what you lose is actually worth anything. Would you rather have your job forever and be alone, or be with someone you care about more than anything and maybe have to seek employment elsewhere? Who in life doesn’t have something to lose? It’s about tradeoffs. Whoever told you otherwise was yanking your balls.”

  “This from the guy who just lost his job and is too chicken shit to fly to England and stake his claim on the guy he wants,” Christian returned. “You’d rather pretend that your issues are too pressing to abandon now, when you’re actually scared and hiding. I can recognize when someone doesn’t want to take a leap; I’m a pro at it.” He waved his hand at Mark. “Hide in your house, Mark, away from all the tabloids. Find a new job and dive into it. Tell yourself you’re doing things differently this time—really becoming the guy you want to be. I promise if you do all that right away, you will accomplish what you’re after.”

  “Yeah? And what’s that?”


  “Losing any chance you ever had with a guy you decided couldn’t want you. I’ve never seen someone so good at acting the part of the emotional walking wounded. Nobody likes you, everybody hates you…wahhh, waaaah. If you think I’m an easy read, you’re like an alphabet book for kids. Don’t try to be my shrink when you’ve got your own personal shitcan to figure out.” He paused and drummed his fingers along the table before burning Mark again with those hot eyes. “All that being said, wanna get laid?”

  Mark gulped down the last of his drink and was about to flip the table out of his way to either strangle Christian or shove his tongue down the guy’s throat, when their dinner arrived. He slid his empty glass toward the server and asked for another—make it a double—then glowered through the steam from Christian’s fajitas.

  Mark was not a coward. Zane had understood why he had to stick around New Mexico and take care of things.

  For two months? The devil inside asked. It would take you a week tops to get your crap together, rent a truck and hit the road for Bakersfield. But if you’re scared to see Zane because it’s been a while…well…

  He shook the thought away. Christian didn’t deserve the chance to mess up his head any more than he already had, yet those words kept replaying in his mind. Losing Zane. Hiding out. Walking wounded. Mark thought of Rafe and Jeremy and what happened between them. The reason those guys were together now was because they both saw what their lives were lacking, what would fix them, and they went for it. For Rafe that meant hurting Mark. For Jeremy that meant coming out. It seemed like the only person who hadn’t made any progress, no matter how he tried to convince himself otherwise, was Mark. All this time he’d been busy pointing a finger at Rafe.

  Rafe hurt me. Rafe left me. Rafe confused me. Rafe didn’t want me.