No One But You

by KC Kendricks

  What other choice did I really have? I could push him tonight, or wait another day and go by the house and try again.

  Now, when it suddenly felt like he had truly forgiven me, wasn't the time to hurt him again by making him think I didn't trust him. I held him close for another moment, then slid out of his embrace and grinned at him.

  "I do trust you--to have a worse slice than mine. I promise not to laugh too loud."

  Stacy moved to get his clubs, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like performing a sex act on me with his five-iron. I carried both bags to the range, just in case I'd heard right.

  Being relative newcomers to the sport of golf, we both had a few swing issues that kept us working hard to correct. The course pro was prowling around and stopped to offer a few reminders. Stacy actually drove down the center after that. He glared at me.

  "You had to be a natural at this, didn't you?"

  I set a ball on the tee and wiggled my ass at him. "I take direction well. You know, Stace--strip, on your back, legs in the air." I swung and drove the ball all the way to the net. Two hundred eighty yards. Cool.

  "You fucking show-off. And now you've teased me until my eyes are crossed, I can't even see the ball. You owe me at least a blow job for that."

  I drove another ball, into the net this time. It would be nice if the range were a bit longer. I guessed I was hitting about the three hundred yard mark. I snorted at Stacy. "What? Your right hand broke?"

  Behind me, I heard Stacy's driver connect with the ball. It sliced a bit, but it landed about ten yards short of the net.

  "Take that, puppy. And yes, my right hand seems 'broke.' Non-functional. Unexciting."

  I knew what he meant. I'd given myself nature's sleeping pill last night, but achieving the goal hadn't come easy. I didn't plan on doing it again anytime soon.

  "Well, Mr. James, I don't work out of a guest room."

  His driver connected with my right buttock, but not hard enough to really hurt me.

  "I might be persuaded to spend the night in a cheesy motel."

  I shook my head. "Party central, Stace. The gang's all there, making sure Aaron goes back to his own room every night."

  Stacy grasped my elbow and turned me to face him, an odd expression somewhere between relief and disbelief on his face, his eyes bright with amusement. "Guard dogging for me, are they?"

  "Go ahead and laugh before you bust a gut, old man." I dropped a ball on the mat for him and stepped back. "You wanna know about Aaron?"

  "Not unless you and he have gotten very, very close." He lined up over the ball. "I told you, you're entitled to have gay friends."

  "Things are different for me. I keep telling you that. Nice hook! I think they call that over-compensation."

  He mumbled something under his breath and hit another ball, straighter this time.

  "You know, Levi, I've begun to think I don't understand those 'different things' you've mentioned over the years."

  I smacked the last ball in my bucket and slipped my driver back into my bag. "I know you don't."

  My stubborn pride over him telling me to come home, but not inviting me back to our bed, lost the battle with my fear over his appointment tomorrow.

  "Have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

  Stacy gave me a level look. "We'll see."

  He didn't invite me to share our bed tonight.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  * * *

  The next morning, during a break in filming, I slunk out the back door and called Stacy's office. Stuart, his executive assistant, answered with his usual aplomb. It was clear from the way he hesitated as he told me Stacy had taken the day off that my lover hadn't mentioned I was sleeping at the Holiday Inn. I thanked Stuart and hung up, quickly hitting the speed dial to Stacy's cell phone. It went straight to voice mail.

  I was down to one option--calling Jeremy Mayfield. I wasn't quite desperate enough, not yet. Not ready to go back inside, I walked behind the shed and plopped down on my old smoking bench.

  What was I doing here? I should have called Aaron last night and told him fuck the schedule. I needed to be with Stacy. Wallowing in my own stupidity, I didn't hear Aaron approaching until he sat beside me.

  "How about you tell me what's wrong so we can fix it and get your focus back on your job?" He sounded pissed off, and I didn't blame him.

  "I'm sorry, Aaron. I've got a lot on my mind."

  "Yeah. And your head up your ass. We talked the crew into some long days with the promise of a week's break. Hell, you talked me into it. I told my boyfriend I'd be home Sunday."

  I stared at him. "Boyfriend? You tried to cruise me and you have a boyfriend?"

  "It's not like you and Stacy, man. It's not forever; it's for right now. Saves on living expenses."

  "Fuck, Aaron, that sounds romantic."

  "Romance is for people like you two, who really love each other, not two horny guys making the most of what they have at the moment." He slapped my knee. "Come on. What do you say we nail your segments so you can get out of here by five?"

  "Sounds like a good plan." And it did. I could be at the house, showered and presentable, by the time Stacy got home.

  But would I be ready to hear what he might have to tell me? I stood and held my hand out to Aaron, pulling him up off the bench. Just before we got to the back door, he stopped me.

  "Listen. I know you're having a hard time concentrating today, but you can do this. Just turn it all off and do the job. The day will go a lot faster."

  I nodded. It was good advice. I stepped through the door under my father's unhappy, watchful eye. God, what would my parents do if what I feared were true and Stacy--and I --were...

  I couldn't even imagine what they'd do any more than I could finish the thought. The guys counted on me to get the job done today, and so I buckled down and did it.

  We'd torn down a few engines before and presented the process on the show, so I could move pretty fast, concentrating on the points specific to the 1969 Pontiac GTO Judge. Aaron agreed we'd do a complete voice-over since only my hands tended to be in the shots, so I made a few remarks to help with the script and kept moving. My helper was right behind me cleaning parts, while one of the crew took still photos.

  At five minutes to five, Aaron sent me home and pointed the crew at Uncle Danny, who had the task of restoring the body of the car. I waved at my dad and hotfooted it out the door before he could grab me.

  All day I'd been plagued by a question, and with all the "what ifs" dancing around in my brain, I finally decided to err on the side of caution. I stopped at a drug store and picked up a box of condoms. If. If. If...

  Even if the unthinkable had happened, I loved Stacy. I wouldn't leave him. We'd face what we needed to face together.

  Even if it wasn't what I feared, if Stacy needed protection to feel comfortable, we'd have it.

  I parked the pickup off to the side at the end of the drive so Stacy could ease around it and put the Corvette in the garage when he got home. If I ended up going back to the motel tonight, I didn't want to have to shuffle vehicles around.

  The shower was heavenly, the hottest I'd had in days. I held my breath and let the spray beat my face, then turned and gave my shoulders the pulsating treatment. Okay, I was shallow enough to appreciate that money bought great plumbing. And great sheets.

  I toweled off most of the water and flopped on the bed to air dry--and to make sure I had a good grip on my nerves. Whatever was wrong, and I refused to allow myself to go off the deep end with fear, I would make it clear to him we faced it as a couple.

  The medical center was about ninety minutes away from our little town, so I didn't expect him home before six. I dressed and settled in front of the television in the living room to wait. My nerves were frayed by the time I heard the garage door open a few minutes after eight.

  I met him in the kitchen. My joints turned to mush at his haggard appearance. Alarmed, I put my arms around him and held h
im tightly. Stacy went limp against me, his head against my shoulder. He started to shake. "I'm glad you're here, Levi."

  "I love you so much, Stace. Just tell me what's wrong. Please."

  Stacy pulled back to look at me. I'd never seen him cry before, and the tears glistening on his cheeks frightened me more than anything ever had. I kept my arm around him and led him to the sofa. He leaned on me while I struggled to breathe and form questions.

  "God, Levi, I'm sorry to lose it in front of you when you're struggling with your own emotions. It's just I never expected...this."

  "You're scaring me to death. Are you ..." I choked on the word, then finally forced it past my lips. "Positive?"

  He twisted, his arms coming around me with crushing strength. "It's not me, darling." His lips were on my face, kissing me. "It's not me."

  The room spun around me, and I feared for a moment I would pass out from the relief. In that moment, I knew it was Jeremy who had tested positive.

  Jeremy was more than his best friend and business partner. Stacy's own father had severed their relationship when he found out his son was gay. Jeremy had been a mentor and a father figure at a time when Stacy had no one else.

  "How bad is it? Is Jeremy having symptoms? Is he alone tonight?"

  He nodded. "I wanted to stay with him, but he wouldn't allow it. He thinks--he's pretty sure--it happened about four months ago. An older guy with a bit of ED. The condom slipped. Jeremy had the flu, then his lymph glands stayed swollen...you know the signs."

  I did know. To hear Jeremy talk, he was very careful, and I did believe him. Whoever said only younger gays got all the action never tried to track Mayfield. He single-handedly kept the over-fifty crowd in this town busy. It only took a moment for a man's life to change, though.

  I knew, too, if Stacy hadn't been upset over Jeremy, the bartender's remark would not have struck a nerve. He never paid attention to offhand comments like that.

  "Stacy, I'm so sorry, for Jeremy, and for you."

  He hugged me, and I rested my head against his. Mayfield and I weren't buddies, but I never wished ill on anyone, and certainly never this.

  "I know you are, Levi. I didn't tell you because I hoped the second test would be negative, that maybe the first one was a false positive."

  "But it wasn't." I tipped his chin and forced him to look at me. "You kept this from me. Why?"

  "What could you have done? And Jeremy asked me not to tell you."

  I wasn't angry over that. Not even a twinge. I understood the man's need for privacy, but now I knew. "So, are you going to be on his shit list for telling me?"

  Stacy shook his head. "No, not now. He's telling Stuart in the morning. Alone."

  "Crap. So he and Stuart really have...?

  He finally smiled a little. "I always wondered if you knew about it. That's how Stuart came to work for us. They'd dated, and Stuart needed a job. We needed help. Their fling was over years ago, but they stayed close in other ways."

  Stacy dropped his head back against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. The tiny lines that somehow had developed on his face without me really seeing them seemed deeper. My lover was exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. I needed to get some food into him, along with some wine so he'd sleep, then tuck him into bed--with me. No way would I leave him alone, ever again. A troublesome thought burrowed into my mind.

  "You know, if you're really worried about him, we could go over there and make sure he's okay on his own. I don't think he would do anything rash, but..." I stopped at the look of panic on Stacy's face.

  He swallowed, hard, and shook his head. "No. I think he handled today better than I did."

  "Forget I mentioned it. Stupid things fall out of my mouth these days." I eased my arm from around his shoulders. His fingers closed around my knee.

  "Where do you think you're going, young man?"

  "To the wine chiller. What would you like?"

  "One of everything."

  "Glad to see your sense of humor is still with you. We still have a bottle of that nice Merlot from up north. I'll be right back."

  Stacy nodded and sprawled out as I stood. I glanced over my shoulder at him lying there and said a silent prayer of thanks he was healthy and he was mine. I opened the wine and rooted around in the refrigerator for something to toss in the microwave. There wasn't much. I guess he'd been eating out instead of cooking. The freezer didn't contain any treasures either.

  I called the nearest Chinese delivery and told them there was an extra twenty in it for the driver if my order arrived in twenty minutes. The owner knew me and asked if I wanted to go forty bucks for forty minutes. I told him just to hurry up. Back in the living room, I sat in the corner of the couch, and Stacy put his head in my lap. I brushed the hair off his damp forehead.

  "Hard to drink lying down. Food should be here in twenty. I'm staying, and not in the guest room."

  He sighed. "There go the blankets. Strange how they end up on the floor on your side of the bed."

  "Ain't it though? Listen, Stace, about what I said to you, I'm really ashamed of myself over that."

  Stacy levered himself up to face me, lying across my lap, forcefully reminding me of the many times I had lain in his arms this way, a prelude to lovemaking. The smile that almost formed on his lips said he'd had much the same thought. He knew as well as I that tonight I was the stronger of us, and I would take care of him.

  "I've forgiven and forgotten, darling." He ran his thumb over my lips. "Levi, I'm not sure I can say everything I want to say to you tonight. Can you let me get away with that?"

  "Hey, you let me slide all the time."

  He did smile at that. "Not really. It's easy to nudge you in the right direction. You never skid by the point." Stacy dropped his head on my shoulder and sighed tiredly. I held him, willing my strength into him. The doorbell rang.

  "Dinner. Let me up, and you pour the wine."

  I paid for dinner and gave the guy the promised tip. By the time I grabbed two plates and silverware, Stacy had chugged his first glass of Merlot. I briefly considered getting him drunk so he'd sleep, then decided sex would work just as well, if not better. I scooped an assortment of spicy dishes onto a plate and handed it to him.

  He didn't act too interested in food, picking at it, but he finally managed to eat most of what I'd served him. We chatted about the work at the shop while we ate, then I sent him on to bed with the last glass of the wine while I tidied up.

  I sensed Stacy's feelings of helplessness, something very new in him. He was a fixer-- a damn good one--but he couldn't fix this. All he could do was stand by as his friend battled to hold onto a healthy life. I knew Jeremy was in the neighborhood of sixty-seven or sixty-eight years old, even though he looked ten years younger. He was in good shape for his age, but it was anyone's guess how well he'd respond to treatment.

  About a year ago, Stacy and Jeremy had spoken about selling Mayfield James, LLC, and setting up a few foundations to help gay youth obtain higher education and career training with the proceeds. Apparently, it was something Mayfield really wanted to do as he eased into retirement. I wondered if they would do that now so Jeremy could realize his dream.

  If Stacy felt helpless over what to do for his friend, I experienced a similar feeling over what to do for him. Many times he'd told me some particular problem of the moment couldn't be solved in an evening, and this was one of them.

  All I could do was let Stacy know how much I loved him, and back him up with Jeremy as much as I could.

  I paused in wiping the countertop, soapy dishrag in hand.

  As much as I could. That's the kind of man I wanted to be.

  My family had often called me a late-bloomer. Flush with the brashness of youth, I'd not cared for the moniker, but out of the memory of their words, the truth of it settled over me like a cloak.

  I'd been restless, eager for some unknown thing I couldn't see, or touch, but knew was there waiting for me. I didn't see it clearl
y, but I recognized that if I allowed myself to reach for it, for what it offered, my life would bloom in ways unimagined. It had taken almost thirty years, but I was ready. The question now became was Stacy ready for a more mature me?

  An upwelling of the feelings I had for him caught me off guard, squeezing my chest with a pain I would gladly live with for the rest of my life. I loved him so much. Over the years, I'd wondered why he put up with a kid like me, with my youthful fooling around and lack of focus. Now I knew.

  Somehow, he was able to look beyond all that and see the man I would be one day. I wish he'd told me, but would I have believed him? Probably not. My journey to myself was one I had to walk at my own speed. Stacy, with all the wisdom of a man who'd walked the road before me, hadn't rushed me or steered me around the pitfalls. And I was a better man for landing in a few of them. I had a lot to think about, and not all of it would be decided tonight. Stacy's wisdom was now part of mine.

  Tonight was for a reaffirmation of the love Stacy and I had for each other.

  I finished cleaning up, turned off the lights, locked the back door, and went to give my lover as much comfort as I could.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  * * *

  The dark, rich scents of sandalwood, patchouli, and warm wax greeted me as I stepped into our bedroom. Stacy lay sprawled in naked splendor against on the pillows, head back, eyes closed. The flickering candlelight cast his skin in gold, highlighting his long legs, the ridges of his muscled torso. A smile teased his lips.

  He must have heard me come up the short set of stairs to this level of the house. I paused and committed the sight of him tonight to memory, locking it away with all the other moments--the first time I saw him, the night we made love down by the river on a blanket, the ruttish look in his eyes last week in the bar. I closed the heavy drapes, a barrier between us and the world.