Lonely Hearts

by Heidi Cullinan

  “Pleased to meet you.” Laurie shook Baz’s hand. He got a better look at Baz and added, “Is everything okay?”

  “He needs to borrow some of my stash and sit in the dark for a bit. I’m stealing the car. You okay to take a cab home, or should I come and get you later?”

  “Oh, I’ll find my own ride.” Laurie smiled kindly at Baz. “I hope you feel better.”

  Ed packed Baz into a car, drove him to a loft apartment not far from the studio. Herded him into a bed smelling like Ed and his husband. Brought Baz some Vicodin and ibuprofen, a Benadryl and a TENS unit. Once Baz had those in his system, Ed sat beside the bed on a chair, notebook and pen in hand.

  “Tell me who I’m calling. Names, phone numbers. If you can pick a few who can call the others, do.”

  “Elijah for sure. But don’t make him call anyone. Have…Damien be the other contact. He knows all the numbers to call. Marius would be better, but he’s probably still in school.” Baz stared at the ceiling through his sunglasses—the bedside lamp was on while Ed took notes. “I should check my phone. I turned it off before because it was blowing up.”

  “Nope. You don’t get it back until you’ve rested and eaten. If there’s someone else you want me to call for you, tell me now, but otherwise let them take care of it. You were a mess when you walked into my weight room. You’re only marginally better now. You’re letting me handle this, got it?”

  Nothing in Ed’s voice hinted he’d allow discussion on this point, so Baz gave the numbers, took off his glasses and went to sleep. He didn’t think he was tired, but one second he was thinking how he’d never sleep, and the next Ed shook him gently, saying he had dinner waiting for him.

  Laurie puttered in the kitchen, smiling and waving as Ed put takeout on plates and Baz collapsed on a barstool by the counter. “Doing any better?”

  Baz nodded carefully. His head still pounded a little, but he didn’t feel so frayed around the edges. He shifted the TENS pads from his hip to his neck. “Did I hear something about a beer?”

  They moved to TV trays in the living room area, ate greasy cheese-stuffed burgers and chatted. Laurie asked how Baz liked his internship, which got them talking about volunteering and philanthropy, and eventually they discovered they had a mutual acquaintance—Oliver Thompson was one of Baz’s mother’s oldest friends, and he was Laurie’s godfather.

  “If you’re serious about pursuing a career in Twin Cities philanthropy, I have to hook the two of you up. Oliver has his fingers in every pie, and he could set you up like that.” Laurie snapped his fingers in emphasis. “You let me know when you want to meet.”

  “I will.” Mentioning his mother, though, brought Baz back to reality. “Did you get ahold of Damien? Elijah?”

  “Damien, yes, Elijah not yet.”

  Baz had been ready to camp out on Ed’s sofa for the night, but the thought of Elijah made him itch to get to Saint Timothy. When he glanced at the clock on the microwave, though, he thought of another question. “Did my mom call?”

  Ed pulled out Baz’s phone. He didn’t pass it over, turning it on and scrolling through Baz’s missed calls himself.

  Shaking his head, he put the phone down with a grimace.

  Baz sat quietly, letting that sink in. That when the chips were down, when he flipped out and bolted into the unknown, his mom would carry through with the political opportunity. Baz could wait.

  Except Baz was done waiting. Utterly, completely done.

  Elijah was in the middle of Intro to British Literature when his phone started buzzing.

  The first time he ignored it, but after the third buzz on his ass, he pulled his phone out to see who was trying so hard to reach him. He didn’t know the number, but whoever it was kept calling. He shut his phone off and did his best to focus on his class. Once it was done, he ducked into a quiet hallway and turned his phone on to check his voicemails.

  He had thirteen, and four times as many texts. All of the messages said the same thing. Baz is missing. Do you know where he is?

  Giles’s phone went to voicemail, but Aaron picked up. “Hey. We’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

  No shit. “What’s wrong with Baz? What do they mean, he’s missing? He went into Saint Paul to see his mom. Did he not make it?” Is he okay? Is he hurt?

  “I don’t know. I think so, but something happened, and now they’re looking for him.”

  Elijah slumped against the wall, dizzy and sick. “Have they called the police? Where are his parents, at the White House?”

  “I honestly don’t know anything, only that this guy named Stephan keeps calling me, and the suits who usually escort us all took off at once.”

  “What are we supposed to do?”

  “Do you have any more classes?”

  “No. Just choir.” Which he was so skipping, and fuck the attendance policy. Where was Baz?

  “Good. Come over and be in the student lounge with us, and we’ll brainstorm this. Do you want me to come get you? Where are you?”

  It was on the tip of Elijah’s tongue to refuse the offer, but he really did feel sick and slightly crazed. “If you don’t mind. I’m in the humanities wing of Fletcher Hall. Back hallway by the stairs leading to the auditorium.”

  “Be there in five.”

  When they hung up, Elijah went through the rest of his texts, desperate to find one from Baz, but there was only the note he’d sent earlier about going to see his mom. Elijah jotted out a quick Where are you? Please call me, considered adding more before squelching the idea and scanned through the rest. There were several unknown numbers, though, and after one voicemail and two reporter texts, Elijah deleted everything unread.

  Soon after that, Aaron appeared on the stairs, and Elijah about burst out of his skin in his eagerness to get the fuck out of there. “We have to go look for him. I don’t know where to look, but I have to do something. I know I’ll miss choir, but I don’t care.”

  “Nussy won’t mind—there seems to be a special rule for Baz. Can I go with you?”

  Elijah had sudden images of the entire White House turning the Tesla into a clown car. “Yes, but only if it’s just you.”

  “Come on. We can go the back way to the White House.”

  They crossed the street like thieves escaping a jewel heist. Nobody was in sight, no press, no security goons, nobody at all. Elijah was starting to feel ridiculous about how Mission: Impossible they were being—and then they rounded the corner to the White House.

  The driveway was full of cars—the Tesla and Giles’s car were completely blocked in. The suits who usually escorted them silently around campus huddled in groups, looking grim.

  Aaron glanced sidelong at Elijah. “Um. This is intense. What do you want to do?”

  Elijah wanted to get to Baz. “Maybe we can use a side street and call a cab, or Uber. Or Walter.”

  “Something tells me anyone who knows Baz is getting this same insanity right now. I think we should stick to a cab.”

  They slipped into the alley, but before they could escape, one of the suits saw them, called out “Hey!” and it was over.

  Aaron hadn’t been kidding about intense. The suits grilled them about why they were taking off. When Aaron said they were looking for Baz, the suits told them they were handling the search and asked them repeatedly if they’d had any contact with Baz or anyone he was with.

  “I think we should go to choir rehearsal,” Aaron suggested when they were finally able to escape the suits. “We’re clearly not going to get away to the Cities—these guys are going to follow us. We might as well go sing it out.”

  Elijah didn’t want to sing it out, but with no other real recourse, that’s exactly what he did. Virtually all their songs had a religious bent, which drove Aaron crazy but Elijah secretly enjoyed. They were working on a song for the homecoming concert, “What Wondrous Love Is Th
is?” with eight-part harmony, totally a cappella. It wasn’t all fancy and jazzy like the Ambassadors or Salvo, but Elijah loved it. It reminded him of going to church with Pastor Schulz, or the services when he was young, when his brother was alive and his parents had been merely gruff and stern.

  Today he pushed his heart into the song, willing the music to bleed off some of his crazy. When I was sinking down, sinking down—that was now, holy fuck. The idea of Baz being in trouble, being out of his reach—yes, he would take divine intervention from anybody to get him home. The last verse made him choke.

  And when from death I’m free. He told himself not to get overly dramatic, Baz wasn’t in any danger of dying, but he was all hyped up now, and the minor key and swelling harmony of the choir got to him.

  Come back to me, Baz. I need you. So much. I don’t want to, but I do. More than I can say, more than I know how to manage. Please come make everything okay again. Like you always do.

  They waited in the lounge for Giles and Mina to get out of orchestra, and Aaron and Elijah gave Lejla, Sid and Jilly the update. Sotto voce, as their escorts lingered in the hallway, watching them with stony expressions.

  “This is creepy.” Lejla huddled into herself and glanced at the door. “Are we under house arrest or something?”

  Aaron glared at the security guys. “I’m not liking this. At all. I know Baz says his parents are fine, just a little offbeat, but this is too much. I called Pastor and told him. He already knew, because he got the same locust attack we did, and he’s not happy. I don’t care if Mrs. Acker is getting appointed to be President. This is out of line. Way out of line.”

  When Giles and Mina joined them, they agreed with Aaron. Giles took point beside his boyfriend. “We’re going to the house, and we’re getting some goddamned answers. Also some dinner. Jesus, I’m starving.”

  They walked home together in a small mob, actively ignoring the suits walking beside them, though a few times Elijah thought Giles was going to tell them to fuck off. When they got to the house, things were crazier than before. Giselle standing stonily beside him, Stephan paced up and down their living room rug, barking out orders. Until he saw the residents arriving, and then he started barking at them.

  “We’re going to have a few words about your failure to return my calls, but first you’re telling me everything you know about where Baz is. I know something is up, and I’m not playing any games.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” Sid said, his patience clearly wearing thin, “but you guys need to back the fuck off. If Baz knew what was going on here, he’d be all kinds of pissed.”

  “Well, Baz isn’t here, is he?” Giselle’s perfectly pink lips pressed into a neatly outlined seam. “Nobody can find him. His parents are worried sick.”

  “Where are his parents?” This came from Aaron. “Why haven’t we received any phone calls from them?”

  “Because Ms. Barnett Acker and her husband are busy people.” Giselle’s lip curled in a baby sneer. “Do you have any sense how much this disappearing act has upset their schedule? Do you have any comprehension of how much work went into getting them these interviews?”

  Mina got into her face. “Baz is a person, not some political pawn you can whip out of your ass.”

  Elijah closed his eyes and stifled a wince, slipping into trick head as Giselle’s demands for them to tell what they knew became pointed and too intense for him to deal with. Then Stephan was in front of him, bellowing and vibrating with rage.

  “I know he told you. There’s no way he didn’t let you know where he went. Tell me right now, or so help me God, I will make you pay.”

  The flashback to being yelled at by his dad hit Elijah so hard and fast he stumbled. Lejla steadied him, and Mina and Giles and Sid started yelling at the same time, but Giselle zeroed in on Elijah like a dog who had found the bone.

  “This isn’t a game, Mr. Prince. You have no idea how influential the Barnetts are. They want to find their son. Just because you’re setting up house with him doesn’t mean you get to dictate terms. You’re on thin ice as it is, with the drag you have from your father’s trial—and this is saying nothing of how much the Barnett-Ackers have single-handedly pulled your ass out of the damn gutter—”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Aaron had shoved his way to the front, fists clenched at his sides, body vibrating with rage. “You arrogant pieces of shit—shut the fuck up. You don’t talk to anybody in this house that way, but you sure as hell don’t talk to Elijah with disrespect. And fuck your delusions about who’s helping who around here. We’ve all put into Elijah’s fund. You’re full of shit, with your threats—and if by some insanity you manage to follow through on them, we are going to make you pay.”

  While everyone else shouted, Lejla pulled Elijah aside and hustled him up the stairs. She led Elijah into his room, and when Stephan shouted after them, she locked the door and dragged the dresser in front of it.

  Elijah collapsed onto the edge of the bed. He felt dizzy and fucked up and terrified. It was like a bad dream. Or more to the point, a bad memory. In his mind Stephan kept morphing into his dad, looming over him, shouting, calling him names, making it clear every horrible thing that ever happened to the world was because of Elijah.

  Lejla sat next to him, gently putting an arm around him. “Hey. It’s okay.”

  Elijah shut his eyes and wrapped his arms over his stomach. “I just need a minute.”

  “That guy is crazy. The woman too. This whole thing is insane.”

  Each time Lejla spoke, Elijah felt more and more like he was going to throw up. He could feel the panic attack coming, and his whole mission in life became to have it by himself. “I need to be alone for a few minutes.”

  He croaked out the words, and at first he wasn’t sure Lejla was going to leave, but whatever she saw in his face convinced her to stand. She touched his hair lightly, stroking in a hesitant, stuttering gesture. “I’m going to wait outside. You’ll holler if you need me?”

  Elijah managed a wooden nod, though it was a lie because he wasn’t hollering anything. He wanted to crawl under the bed. He wanted to take enough drugs to turn him into a zombie so he wouldn’t see his dad looming over him anymore. He wanted to erase what Stephan had said from his brain because the words kept echoing, burning deeper and deeper into his soul, letting loose so many things he’d worked his fingers to the bone trying to forget.

  He hesitated over Baz’s dresser top full of drugs, but the memory of how badly he’d fucked himself up the last time made him turn away. What he was supposed to do instead of drowning in chemicals, however, wasn’t immediately clear. All he knew was the panic kept rising inside him, threatening to blow out the top of his head.

  He didn’t consciously plan on climbing out the window. It simply happened. Stuffing cigarettes and his wallet into a backpack, he slung it over his shoulder and climbed down the rusty fire escape as silently as he could.

  Except he didn’t know where to go. His fingers fumbled at his phone, and he couldn’t make his legs work right. His feet were so heavy he couldn’t get farther than the garage. He crawled behind a hedge and tucked his legs against his body, shivering in the cold as the shouts from the house punctuated the night.

  Though he’d brought his cigarettes, he didn’t smoke. He only sat there, rigid, curled in a ball, vacillating between rage and hatred and fear—because he didn’t understand what had happened, why he’d melted down or what was supposed to happen next.

  This isn’t a game, kid. You have no idea how influential the Barnetts are.

  Howard Prince can be forgiven his rage when it’s learned what a manipulative, soulless fiend drove him to his crime.

  You disgust me. You aren’t the man your brother was. You’ll never be. You should have died instead of him. You should crawl through the dirt in gratitude and pray the world never finds out how full of evil you are.


  Elijah shut his eyes tight, digging his fingernails into his jeans. “What wondrous love is this,” he whispered, repeating the song under his breath in a vain attempt to drown out the bilious echoes of his memory.

  Baz was prepared for a small circus at the White House, but the sheer volume of suits and muscle milling around his driveway pretty much blew his mind as Ed drove them close enough to get a full view.

  Laurie leaned forward in the passenger seat with an expression of alarm. “This is because you skipped out on an interview?”

  Ed parked the car a discreet distance from the house, but the goons in the yard were already eyeballing them. Ed looked pretty pissed. “I’m starting to regret not asking the guys to come along. This is a bit fucked up, Baz.”

  It was. “I’ll get it sorted out.” As soon as my mother is done being interviewed. God, that was going to sting all night long.

  “We’ll be coming with you.” Laurie exited the car with grace and poise. “I believe your mother’s people have overstepped themselves. Let’s go remind them of a thing or two.”

  Ed frowned at the security detail. “I really think we should call the guys.”

  Laurie waved this idea away. “This isn’t a moment for muscle. But feel free to appear menacing, if you like.”

  At the house they were immediately besieged by pretty much every part of the Barnett detail on the lawn. A few reporters who had smelled a story lingered at the edge of the drive, but when the security guys attempted to block them, Laurie kept his smile in place as he leaned over to whisper to Baz.

  “Pick out one you like and invite them inside.”

  Baz blinked, and despite how sick he felt, laughed. “Laurie, you’re an evil genius.”

  “This ain’t my first time at the rodeo,” he replied, letting go of Baz to warmly welcome the confused but excited press junket forming around them, asking their names and where they were from.

  Baz chose the young but aggressive-looking Asian woman who had on a power suit for a stakeout. Her name was Susan Meeks, and she turned out to be a senior journalism student from the Minnesota Daily. Since he was still a bit shell-shocked, he murmured his choice to Laurie, who told her she was entirely welcome to bring a cameraman inside.