by Lydia Nyx
“Come on Zane, be a hero. A romantic hero.”
“Ian, shut the hell up.”
Zane stopped short as they circled around one of the more modern huts. A familiar car sat in the narrow space between the hut and a neighboring one.
“What?” Ian whispered. “Is that his car?”
Zane narrowed his eyes at the vehicle, uncertain. His heart pounded from nerves and exertion.
“I don’t know,” Zane said.
They crept up to the car and Zane peeked in the driver side window.
Davey’s sunglasses were lying on the seat.
“It is,” Zane whispered. He turned and looked at the hut, his racing heart crawling up in his throat as a new kind of fear gripped him.
“All right,” Ian said. He grabbed Zane’s shoulders from behind and massaged them firmly. “Do you know what you’re going to say?”
“No!” Zane panicked.
“You haven’t even thought about it?”
“No! I was too busy scaling fences and creeping around in the dark! Do — you think I should walk up to the door and knock?”
Ian’s hands fell still on his shoulders, then he squeezed. “Hell no. Come on.”
Ian led Zane around to the back of the hut, Zane so preoccupied he didn’t realize what Ian had in mind until he started testing the windows.
“I’m not crawling through the fucking window!”
“It’ll be fucking romantic!”
Ian stopped at one, cracked open. Davey always liked to have a window open. Ian pointed joyously. Zane turned and tried to run. Ian caught him, locking his arms beneath his, and Zane struggled, trying not to cause a commotion.
“Let me go!” Zane snarled.
“Get in the window!” Ian hauled him back. “Crawl in his bed and wake him up with kisses! Tell him how you feel about him and that you’re fucking sorry for being a cunt. It’ll melt him. Trust me on this!”
Zane wasn’t at all convinced Ian’s plan would work. Ian remained adamant though, and standing beneath the open window, Zane couldn’t argue lest Davey hear them.
“Come on,” Ian whispered. He pushed the window up. “It’s not the first time you’ve climbed through a window.”
Zane was fucking terrified — more over facing Davey than breaking into a hut — but helpless to resist Ian’s powers of persuasion. Ian boosted him up. Zane held his breath as he wiggled through the window frame, hoping to meet nothing in the way on the other side. He tumbled onto clear floorboards.
Getting to his feet and looking around, he saw he had entered a small, narrow room with a bed to his left. A shape rested on the mattress — a human form, blurry in the darkness. Zane had the sudden gripping terror he might have been wrong. What if he had just shimmied through the window of some wizened old nomad’s hut and the man died of a heart attack when Zane woke him up?
Zane looked back out the window and Ian gave him an eager thumbs-up.
Zane looked at the bed again. He crept forward. His fears of a mix-up were quickly alleviated as he got closer — Davey’s scent hung on the air, unmistakable.
Zane stopped next to the bed, basking in the familiar smell for a moment, gazing down at the figure. He had his back to Zane, one arm draped over the blankets, light from the window glinting on his fingernails. His hair spread out in dark tendrils over the light-colored pillowcase. Zane glanced back at the window, thinking maybe Ian had the right idea after all. He hadn’t expected to be struck with such emotion.
He took a moment to collect himself. Listening to Davey’s soft breathing, the same ache he’d experienced on the patio filled his chest.
Finally, with a deep breath, he leaned over and put a hand on Davey’s shoulder.
A sudden movement took him off guard. Then, the most unexpected thing in the world happened — something very hard and metal hit Zane square in the face, striking him so hard across the bridge of his nose his vision went black for a moment. He reeled backwards, stunned, pain spreading white-hot into his cheeks and forehead.
“Fuck!” Zane shrieked, and dropped to his knees, clutching his face. Wetness gushed into his hands. “What the fuck!”
He heard scuffling and a light came on. He bent over in agony.
“What the fucking hell!” Davey screamed. “Zane! You fucking idiot!”
Zane heard Ian’s voice somewhere behind him, outside the window, and then Davey started shouting again.
“For fuck sake! What the fuck are you doing crawling in my window like a fucking rapist!”
Through his blurred vision Zane saw the weapon, lying benignly on the floor next to the bed. A metal serving tray for tea. Do they offer tea service in a place like this? his mind somehow managed to wonder.
Davey pried Zane’s hands away from his face. They were red and his lips had gone numb.
“Elliot is going to fucking kill me!” Davey raged.
Ian must have crawled through the window because he now stood in the room, touching Zane’s shoulders, trying to look at his face. Zane felt sick.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Zane managed to choke out.
Chapter 16
Thanks to painkillers, Zane’s agony had simmered down to a dull ache. Narcotics combined with lack of sleep, however, made walking and functioning difficult. As he walked out to the waiting area on the arm of a nurse, Ian and Davey rose from their respective chairs. Judging by the look on his brother’s face he must have looked as bad as he felt. Davey folded his arms, glaring at Zane as though he had a few choice words for him which he would undoubtedly deliver at the first opportunity.
The nurse released Zane into their care, and Ian took his arm.
“Is it broken?” Ian asked, looking at Zane’s bandaged nose and wincing.
“They don’t know,” Zane said, his voice muffled and thick as his nose had been packed with gauze; his lips were swollen too. “They said they won’t be able to tell until the swelling goes down. I have to come back in a few days.”
Davey, still staring at Zane as though he wanted to finish destroying his face, unfolded his arms. In a low, tight voice he said, “I’ll call Elliot in the morning and tell him what happened.”
“I told the doctors I got in a fight.” Zane wobbled, his vision going in and out of focus. “God.” He touched his forehead. “I can’t tell Elliot the truth. I have to make something up.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to think about it while you’re cleaning the blood off the front seat of my car so I don’t have to pay for damages,” Davey said.
Davey had brought Zane to the hospital, because his car was right there at the hut and Zane thought he might die. He dropped Ian off at his car on the way, barely coming to a full stop to let him out.
“Tonight he’s just going to rest,” Ian said pointedly. “We’re going back to the hotel.”
“Oh, wasn’t that my suggestion hours ago?” Zane asked. He winced. Self-righteousness hurt his face.
“You’re not off the hook either, Ian,” Davey said. “You were behind this.”
“I’m concerned for my brother’s health right now! Quit being a bitch.”
The shock on Davey’s face might have been amusing if Zane had the capacity to find anything funny.
“Did you just call me a bitch?” Davey asked.
“No, I said you were being a bitch.”
“Guys.” Zane groaned.
“I’m taking you back to the hotel,” Ian said, renewing his grip on Zane’s arm.
“I’ll take him in my car,” Davey said. “I’m going to the hotel as well.”
“Why don’t you go back to your hut?” Ian asked, sounding testy.
“Because.” Davey smiled at him, simpering. “After all the fucking commotion you two caused, I can’t go back. I hope Saul has you banned from the production, Ian.”
Zane groaned again, louder this time. Ian squeezed his arm.
“It’s all right, Zane,” Ian said. “I’ll get you to bed.”
“God, I hate
both of you so much right now,” Zane said.
“Same here,” Davey announced. He turned and stalked toward the waiting room door.
Driving through the pre-dawn streets of Cairo, Zane sat stiffly with his head reclined on the back of his seat. Blood occasionally trickled down the back of his throat, making him cough, putting him in more agony. He touched the bottle of painkillers in his pocket and wondered if he should just take all of them.
“Davey,” he said groggily.
Davey glanced over. He clenched the wheel, lips pressed in a tight line. Ian drove ahead of them.
“You’re not going to puke, are you?” Davey asked. “Like I need more of a mess in here.”
“No.” Zane lifted his head from the seat and closed his eyes against the sudden, sharp pain across the bridge of his nose. His entire face felt swollen, none of his muscles moving properly when he spoke. “I’m sorry. I should tell you why I did it. See, I — “
“I know,” Davey cut him off. “Ian told me everything in the waiting room.”
“Oh.”
Zane fell silent. He wanted to tumble forward and pass out. After a time he spoke again, to keep himself awake. “Davey, I — “
“Just shut up. Be quiet until we get to the hotel. You don’t need to be talking.”
Getting out of the car and into the hotel proved another strenuous feat. Davey got on one side of him and Ian the other. Thankfully, they didn’t argue while they hauled him inside, ferried him past the worried-looking desk clerk, and ushered him into the elevator. Zane drew a deep sigh once inside. His nose being completely blocked off felt strange.
“I don’t deserve your kindness,” Zane said to Davey, wishing he could speak clearer.
“And you haven’t gotten much of it tonight, have you?”
Zane managed a small smile. “I’ve had worse.”
“Kinda hard to believe, looking at you.”
Another argument erupted between Ian and Davey as they exited the elevator. Davey propped Zane up by himself now.
“I’ll go to his room with him,” Davey said. “You’ve done enough.”
“He’s my brother! I think you’ve done enough!”
“Guys.” Zane winced. “I just wanna lie down.”
“I don’t even have a room here!” Davey said. He looked at Zane, his eyes blurry in front of his, smudges of blue on white. “We’ll let Zane decide,” he said.
Davey clearly wanted to make a point, taking Zane right back to the restaurant two nights ago where he had chosen Ian over him.
“Do you want me or Ian to take care of you?” Davey asked.
Zane looked warily at Ian. Ian made a subtle pointing gesture.
“You,” Zane said, closing his eyes. “I want you.” Even without Ian’s insistence, he knew the right choice.
“All right then,” Ian said. “Call me in the morning.”
Morning wasn’t far away, and as Davey helped Zane out of his bloody clothes and into bed, the first glow of dawn brightened the sky outside the window.
“I’m sorry,” Zane said weakly as Davey piled pillows behind him. Davey made him lie back on them.
“Save it for morning.” His voice sounded a bit softer.
“It is morning,” Zane murmured, glancing toward the window.
Davey sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. Zane gazed at him. He wasn’t completely in focus, but blurry or not, Zane realized he liked seeing him there.
“Why did you do it?” Davey sounded exasperated, but genuinely curious. “Why did you go crawling in my fucking window in the middle of the night, in a country where someone crawling in your window in the middle of the night usually means they’re going to slit your throat?”
“Ian said it would be romantic.”
Zane felt a little better lying down. The blankets were warm and he teetered on the edge of sleep.
“Did you think it would be romantic? I mean, what did you plan to do when you got in there?”
“Tell you I was sorry.”
“You could have called and told me you were sorry.”
“Wanted to hold you,” he whispered, starting to drift. He didn’t know if he really spoke the words. He must have slipped off for a minute, because the next thing he knew Davey’s lips brushed across his forehead, pulling him back to wakefulness.
“I’ll go back and get my things in a few hours,” Davey said softly. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Zane drifted off then, thinking he felt Davey’s hand on his cheek. Darkness came and the pain disappeared.
***
When Zane opened his eyes, bright light poured through the window, but not morning sunlight; the slant denoted early afternoon, maybe. He turned his head and immediately wished he had just stayed still.
His face felt stiff and his lips were swollen. His eyes didn’t open all the way. He instinctively tried to snort out the thickness in his nose but nothing budged. His throat had filled with thick goo and he coughed, groaned at the pain doing so caused, and tried to swallow.
“Spit it out.”
Davey appeared above him. He wore a robe, his hair damp on his shoulders. In one hand he held a clear plastic cup of water, in the other a wad of tissues. He put the cup down on the stand next to the bed and pulled Zane into a sitting position. Zane’s vision swum as a wave of pain pulsed through his head and then he started coughing in earnest.
Davey held the tissues under his mouth while he coughed up the slime in his throat — a disgusting mess of blood-tinted mucus. Zane thought he would puke bringing the foul substance up. He didn’t though, and Davey gave him the cup of water when he finished.
“God.” Zane’s voice sounded gravelly and muffled still, but he could actually speak a bit clearer. “What fucking time is it?”
“Just after one.”
Davey threw the tissues away. Zane looked around the room, his vision a little less blurry than the night before. Davey’s suitcases and duffel bag rested in a chair by the window. Zane’s pills were on the stand next to the bed — he vaguely remembered waking up at some point and Davey giving him one. He wanted more now.
“You didn’t have to be my nursemaid,” Zane said.
“Don’t tell me what I don’t have to be.”
Davey walked to the bathroom, the light on inside the room. He went in. Zane could see the mirror from the bed and Davey bent over, then stood up and tossed a towel over the shower curtain rod.
“What’s going on?” Zane asked. He looked over at Davey’s suitcases. “Have you talked to Elliot?”
Davey came out of the bathroom, pushing his wet hair off his shoulder.
“I went back this morning to the huts. It turns out someone did report a disturbance. However, we were gone by the time security came around, and they didn’t go into my hut. Thank God, because there was blood all over the floor. I told them there was a fight and paid for the damages. Your brother — “ he picked up a piece of paper from the vanity, “ — paid me back for it.”
He walked to the bed and Zane saw the paper was a check.
“However,” Davey started ripping it up, “I’m not going to cash it. Because his heart was in the right place, even if his head clearly was not.”
Zane watched him silently. Davey tossed the ripped pieces in the wastebasket beside the bed.
“What about Elliot?” Zane asked.
“I talked to him this morning. I told him you and I got in a fight and you were in pretty bad shape.”
Zane widened his eyes, as much as he could. “You didn’t have to implicate yourself.”
“Why not? I did do it.”
“Is he pissed? Christ, I’m gonna be useless for a while.”
“He’s not singing show tunes, I can tell you that much. I think he realizes though — and mind you, I didn’t give him any details — that whatever happened, you deserved it.”
“How nice of him.”
“You want something to eat? Ian says he’ll go get us something.�
�
“Yes,” Zane said and pushed the blankets off. “I want some painkillers to eat. After I take a piss.”
He got up and wobbled to the bathroom, just in his shorts. In the bathroom, he stood in front of the mirror and stared in horror. He couldn’t see his nose with the bandage of course, but the skin under his eyes had turned purple and his lips were indeed swollen, as were his cheeks. He had been in some fights as a teenager that left him messed up, but this certainly outranked them.
Davey served him two painkillers before he crawled back into bed.
“This gauze has to come out today,” Zane said as he gently touched his nose. “They said to pull it out and see if there’s any drainage. If there is, I have to go back.”
“That’s gonna hurt like hell.”
“I know.” Zane settled back against the pillows. “Let’s leave it in for a while.”
Davey sat down on the edge of the bed and stared across the room, and they were quiet for a few minutes.
“Is your car a huge mess?” Zane finally asked. “I couldn’t really tell in the dark last night. Plus I couldn’t see and all.”
“Ian cleaned it out. It took him a while, but I don’t think they’ll be able to tell. I’ve decided to forgive him.”
“Yeah? And me? What do I need to do to earn your forgiveness?”
Davey looked away with a harsh laugh. “I think I’ve pretty much paid you back for every rotten thing you’ve ever done to me. Or at least most of them. Maybe another whack to the face in a couple of days and we’ll be squared up.”
Zane tried to chuckle but doing so just caused pain. He winced, rolling his head on the pillow.
“Why did you come to Giza last night?” Davey asked, not accusingly, his voice soft. “Why did you tell Ian about us?”
“I missed you.”
“That covers the Giza part. What about Ian?”
Zane didn’t immediately answer. He collected his thoughts, which were more coherent than they had been in weeks. A bout of physical pain proved more cleansing than tears.
“I trust him. I had to tell someone. It was eating me up.”
“Why was it eating you up? Because you were messing around with a guy? Because it made you feel guilty, less like a man?”
