by Lydia Nyx
Davey laughed uproariously and Ian arched an inquisitive eyebrow. Essie just grinned and watched.
“All right.” Davey picked up the glass again. “If I get sick, I’m doing it on your shoes.”
“You got it.”
Davey took the shot. Afterward he winced and gagged, just a little, but managed not to cough. “That’s an…interesting flavor.” He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.
They all clapped and whistled while Davey continued to wince and licked his lips. Zane put his foot up on the table.
“There you go, give ‘em a good splatter.”
Davey pushed his foot off the table with a smirk.
“You California boys,” Ian said. “Your tongue’s ruined by all that fucking tofu and organic shit. Your taste buds forgot how to work.”
“You don’t know what my tongue’s been ruined by,” Davey said. “Shut up.”
A couple more rounds of shots put Zane over the line to completely drunk, as they did Davey. Davey kept trying to light a cigarette — impressed that there wasn’t a smoking ban in Kentucky — and Zane eventually had to help him, in an example of the blind leading the blind. Ian finally stepped in with his Zippo to assist.
“That’s pretty,” Davey said, taking the lighter from Ian after he lit them up. He held the silver monochrome Zippo up to the light above their table, staring in wonder.
“And you’re drunk.” Ian took a pull off his own cigarette. “It’s a lighter.”
Davey brought the Zippo close to his face and peered at the surface. “What’s that say? There’s words engraved on it.”
Zane and Ian said in perfect unison, “And I take with joy whatever now besets me, pain or fear. And with a strong will I sever all the ties which bind me here.”
Davey looked from one to the other.
Ian chuckled and snagged the lighter back. “It’s from a hymn we learned in church when we were kids. Zane got this for me, just before I left for California.” He nudged Davey in the ribs. “You should’ve seen the big pussy crying when I got on the plane.”
“Oh yes.” Zane plunked his glass down on the table. “Let’s not forget you calling me up that night crying over how homesick you were.”
“You guys oughta get married,” Davey slurred. “That’s legal in this state, right?”
The night frolicked on in a haze, the cacophony of voices and music and the sweet flow of alcohol wrapping Zane in a blissful buzz. His gaze kept straying to Davey, wearing a tight pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair loose on his shoulders. Zane had gone casual with jeans and a t-shirt as well, but somehow Davey made the simple look striking. Zane would have been content to sit there all night, just staring at him.
Then the karaoke started.
“I gotta sing!” Zane said and pushed himself to his feet. “Ian, we gotta sing!”
“We do!” Ian lurched to his feet as well.
“What?” Davey asked.
“Oh Christ,” Essie said and rubbed her forehead.
Zane and Ian commandeered the stage, an easy feat since everyone knew them. Zane grinned and waved to the crowd, which cheered and waved back. Ian handed him a microphone.
“All right, folks,” Zane said into the microphone, which squealed feedback at him in return. “How about some requests?”
Various songs titles were thrown at them, from classics to contemporary to downright silly.
In the end, they decided to sing “Burning Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash. Davey laughed the entire time, alternately clapping and hiding his eyes. Zane wasn’t the best of singers, but he didn’t care. He and Ian jumped around the stage and sang their hearts out. The crowd ate it up. Toward the end, Zane beckoned Davey to come up and join them. He shook his head wildly and held his hands up.
Zane took a break from singing to shout at the crowd. “How many of you want to hear my good friend Davey sing a few lines for us?”
Everyone cheered enthusiastically. After some more encouraging, Davey finally made his way up to the stage.
“Come on!” Zane urged him, reaching down to give him a hand up. “Davey Alexander, everybody!”
Everyone shouted, just to shout.
Despite his initial reluctance, Davey took quickly to the microphone and showed off his voice, as he had in the desert. He did the breathiest, most slinky performance of “Burning Ring of Fire” Zane had ever witnessed. Judging by the shrieks and squeals, most of the women in the bar had orgasms, along with a few of the men.
When Davey finished, the applause and screaming nearly brought down the house. Davey grinned and bowed repeatedly. Zane and Ian took a bow as well.
As they stepped off the stage, a woman in a short denim skirt and a low-cut top pushed a piece of paper into Davey’s hand with a salacious smirk.
“Thanks.” Davey looked at the number written on the paper. “I’ll put you in my little black book.”
After their performance, Essie went out to get some air, and the three men were quickly surrounded by people wanting to buy them drinks. Most of their admirers were female, and they practically punched each other to get the open chairs. Normally, Zane would have picked out a few of the cuter ones and taken turns accepting their hospitality, but he just wanted to sit and talk with Davey. Things had changed.
The girls hit on Ian as well, since most people in town didn’t know about his sexuality — though of course they did speculate — and Zane heard him proclaim he would be joining the priesthood in the morning so he could neither drink nor fornicate. A curvy blonde girl leaned over between Zane and Davey and whispered something in Davey’s ear. She wore a tantalizing floral perfume and one of her breasts, practically falling out of her top, rested on Zane’s shoulder. Zane peeked over. Red lace bra.
Davey listened closely to whatever she said. “That sounds great,” he said loudly over the chatter at the table. “I’m involved with someone though, I’m sorry.”
The girl frowned, then leaned over again and whispered something else. Zane smiled to himself.
“No.” Davey shook his head. “They’ll find out, trust me.”
She walked away, clearly disappointed. Zane smiled knowingly at him.
Essie came back a few minutes later, her coat and shirt dotted with water spots. “There’s somebody outside who wants to talk to you,” she said to Zane.
“Me?” Zane looked up at her. “Who?”
“I don’t know who he is. Wear your coat out though, it’s raining.”
Zane could only think of one reason a man would want to “talk” to him outside a bar in his hometown. Zane caught Ian’s eye and made a certain gesture. Ian nodded and got to his feet, as did Zane.
“Where are you going?” Davey asked.
“We’ll be back.” Zane patted his arm. “Sit tight.”
Zane and Ian pushed their way through the crowd to the front door. Ian hung back just inside the entryway while Zane went out.
Outside, neon lights gleamed on the shiny pavement, the air made icy by a drizzling rain. Zane kept under the awning outside the door, huddled down in his jacket. Not many people lingered outside, and he found the person who was looking for him quickly. He walked over to Zane, wrapped in a long tan coat, and Zane gaped in shock.
“Cristiano! What the hell are you doing here?”
In the garish light from the bar windows, Cristiano was pale, and had dark shadows under his eyes, making him look sickly. Despite fearing he might break, Zane quickly embraced him.
“I found out where your mother lives,” Cristiano said. His teeth chattered next to Zane’s ear. “I stopped by your house. She said you were here. I wanted to talk to you.”
“You came all the way to Kentucky to talk to me?” Zane laughed wonderingly as he drew back. “I have a phone, you could have saved yourself some money!”
“I needed to talk to you face to face. I was coming to the U.S. anyway. I’m going to rehab in Los Angeles, so I’ll be close to Elliot. He’ll be back home by the time I get
out.”
“Was that your choice? Or his?”
“Both.” Cristiano looked down at the pavement. “I’m sorry, Zane. For what I did. For how it affected you, for how it affected everybody.”
“I know,” Zane said softly. “I know you are. I’m not angry at you.”
“It’s part of my treatment. I have to talk to my friends and family and ask their forgiveness.”
“You don’t have to ask mine. I never blamed you.”
“It helps, though.” Cristiano looked up, his eyes dark and intense. “I’ve…I’ve seen Hell, and it’s been a cold walk back. Every little thing helps.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way to Kentucky to do this, Cristiano.”
“But I did.” He gazed steadily into Zane’s eyes. “I did. And it couldn’t wait until after I got out.”
A moment of silence fell, just the sound of cars passing on the wet street.
“Since you’re here,” Zane said, “will you tell me something?”
Cristiano nodded, still staring at him.
“How long have you been an addict?”
Cristiano drew a deep sigh, and his breath obscured his face as he blew the air out. “Since I was young. Since fifteen. I didn’t have a very good home life, when I was young. I didn’t grow up in a very ideal situation.”
“I can sympathize. But I never turned to drugs. What made you do it?”
“They were there, in the world I lived in. And it was easier than dealing with the pain — of my family, of the people who treated me poorly because I obviously wasn’t a real man. I thought if I grew up to be successful it would show them all, and I wouldn’t need the drugs. But I grew up, I became successful,” he spread his gloved hands, “and I just had more money for the drugs. Better drugs.”
“Why did you call him?” Zane asked softly. “If you wanted to die? Why did you call Elliot?”
“I got scared.”
Zane glanced toward the door. “What does he say now?”
“What he has always said. He wants me to get better. He wants me to be happy.”
“I told him. About us. About that night.”
“I know. And I’m glad. He deserved to know.”
The door opened a little and Ian peeked out. Zane motioned to him and he slid outside. When he saw Cristiano, his mouth fell open.
“Cristiano! How did you get here?”
“He walked,” Zane said with a smirk. “How do you think he got here?”
“I mean what is he doing here?” Ian looked at Cristiano. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to talk to Zane.” Cristiano smiled faintly. “It was important.”
“It must be, to come all the way to Kentucky!” Ian looked him over. “You look like hell.”
“Nice one, Ian,” Zane said.
Cristiano laughed dryly. “Coincidentally, I don’t feel much better.”
“It’ll take time,” Zane said. “But you’ll get there.”
“He’s right.” Ian stepped forward and hugged him. “How have you been?” He held him for a moment, then drew back, looking at him with concern.
“I’m here.”
“You almost weren’t,” Ian said. “Are you taking care of yourself?”
“I’m trying.”
Zane looked back at the door. The rain still fell in dreary streams, running off the edge of the awning. “Hey.” He looked back at Cristiano, teeth chattering. “Why don’t you come inside? Have a drink with us, get warmed up.”
Cristiano looked at the door and shook his head. “No, I don’t feel very social. I’m staying at a hotel.” He motioned to a car sitting against the curb nearby. “I’ll call you in the morning. Maybe we can go somewhere and talk.”
“Are you sure?” Zane asked.
“I don’t think I’m ready to be around a lot of people just yet.”
Zane nodded and looked at Ian. His brother looked worried.
“So.” Cristiano flicked his gaze from one to the other. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Zane thought maybe he should leave with him, maybe go to the all-night diner up the street and have some coffee, sober up. But Cristiano turned and started toward his car.
“Wait!” Ian whipped off his coat and rushed after him. “It’s pouring rain!”
The rain wasn’t exactly “pouring”, but Ian held his coat over Cristiano’s head as he walked to the car. Zane smiled and turned to go back in the bar.
“What’s going on?” Davey asked when Zane sat down at the table. “I’m practically being raped here!”
“I just had a very interesting visitor,” Zane said. “You’re never going to believe it.”
***
Davey stood in Zane’s bedroom doorway, drying his hair with a towel from the bathroom. Zane gazed at him from the bed, sprawled and smoking a cigarette. Ian wasn’t back yet — he’d gone to keep Cristiano company, somewhere.
“I can’t believe he came all the way here to see you,” Davey said, lowering the towel. His hair hung in wild, damp tangles around his face. “Or that he’s going to rehab in California.”
Zane reached over to the bedside table and ground his cigarette out in the ashtray there. “I think he needs to know we don’t hate him. And I think he might actually love Elliot.”
“Do you think that’s possible, after only three months?”
“I don’t know. Do you think it’s possible?” Zane asked meaningfully.
Davey walked over to the bed. The rain had been pouring when they left the bar, and Davey’s t-shirt clung to his chest. He looked down at Zane. “You know,” he said, “your visitor distracted you. You didn’t uphold your part of the bargain.”
“You mean the whiskey bargain?”
“I’ll meet you out in the car.” He tossed the towel on the bed.
“It’s cold out there!” Zane protested.
“I’ll warm it up.” Davey headed out of the room. “Come on!” He called back. “You’re not getting out of this!”
Zane sat up with a sigh. The words “And it burns, burns, burns…” traveled back to him in dulcet tones, and he grinned.
Chapter 25
“So, what did Cristiano have to say?” Davey asked.
Zane and Davey stood outside the terminal of Nashville International Airport, huddled in their jackets, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of arriving passengers and skycaps. The day had dawned particularly chilly, the wind biting, but Zane wanted a smoke and Tennessee, unlike most of Kentucky, had an indoor smoking ban.
“He’s really messed up,” Zane said. He cupped his hand around his lighter, trying to get a flame to stay up long enough to light the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Ian said they talked for hours, too, the first night he was here.” Zane finally got the cigarette lit and took a deep drag. “Cristiano’s got a lot of fucked up shit in his past. Failed relationships, problems with his family, people who’ve abused him. It’s just unreal. It’s not surprising he turned to drugs.”
Davey squinted at him. “It just goes to show, you don’t really know what’s going on inside of people.”
“No kidding. And he’s such a great guy on the surface. Always offering advice, helping people out. Hell, he straightened me out more than once. No one bothered to help him until it was almost too late, though.”
“You can’t help someone if you don’t know they need help. If they hide it, what can you do? If they never ask for help, you can’t give it to them.”
Zane took a drag off his cigarette, looking out toward the freeway in the distance humming with morning traffic. He recalled sitting in the little diner with Cristiano the night before, his last night before he had to leave for rehab in California. He remembered the darkness in Cristiano’s eyes as he spoke softly, his hands trembling around a cup of coffee.
“You’re not still blaming yourself, are you?” Davey asked.
“For my part in it, yes. But you’re right. There’s a hell of a lot more to it.” He g
lanced around, saw the area had mostly cleared of people, and reached over and smoothed Davey’s blowing hair behind his ear. Davey smiled.
“I don’t know what to make of this new, caring you,” Davey said.
Zane gave him a half-smile. “Ian’s going to make sure he gets checked into rehab all right. I don’t think he needs to be alone right now.”
“They’d make a cute couple, wouldn’t they?”
Zane snorted. “I don’t want Elliot to kill my brother. I’m glad Cristiano’s got a friend like Ian, though. If anybody can handle a basket case, it’s Ian.” He smiled meaningfully.
“He’s a good man. It must be in the Reed genes. A big heart.”
“We got other big things in our jeans too.” Zane quirked an eyebrow, taking another drag off his cigarette.
Davey shook his head. “Finish that fucking cancer stick so we can go back inside. I’m freezing my ass off.”
“You’re the one who made me start smoking again!”
Inside the airport, they passed through security and found their gate, even though they had over an hour before their flight back to Paris. Ian and Cristiano had a much earlier flight to Los Angeles, and Zane and Davey had gone to the airport with them.
They sat in plastic chairs near a wall of windows, watching planes go back and forth outside on the tarmac. After a long lull of silence, Zane finally spoke. “Two more weeks,” he said softly.
Davey looked at him and they held each other’s gaze for a moment.
“Yes.” Davey looked down at his lap, picking his nails. “Do you think you’ll get the job Saul is setting you up for?”
“I hope so. Are you going to try to get your line started with Troy?”
“I hope so.”
They fell silent again, and then Davey pushed his wind-tangled hair back from his face and cleared his throat. “So. What happens when these two weeks are over? With us? Is there an ‘us?’”
Zane smiled. “I’m getting you a key made up for my mother’s house. And as a wise man once said to me, that’s why God made planes.”
