Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits

by Felicia Watson

  “Yes,” Zach said.

  David turned to look at him. “It’s a con,” he said urgently. “Saying ‘yes’ puts you in the frame of mind subconsciously to agree with him. It’s the oldest trick in the book. Don’t say ‘yes’. Say ‘fuck off’ the way you did me.”

  Zach looked at him, weary, but saying nothing.

  “Tell me no, Zach,” Brian said, “if that’s really what you want to say. But you don’t need David to protect you, do you?”

  “No,” Zach said, but he was agreeing with Brian.

  David said painfully, “Zach….”

  “I don’t need you to protect me, Taff,” Zach said. “I love you, but I don’t need you to protect me.”

  “Yes, you do! This guy is gonna run roughshod over you. He’ll drag all kinds of shit into the open. Do you want everyone knowing your business?”

  “Maybe it’s time.”

  “Zach! This is what I mean!”

  “Davey,” Brian said, “he really doesn’t need you to protect him, any more than he needed those soldiers to free him.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Those soldiers didn’t get Zach away from Esteban, did they, Zach? You freed yourself.”

  “Yes,” Zach said. He could hear his voice quavering and shut up before anyone else noticed.

  “What are you talking about?” David repeated angrily.

  “Zach knows what I’m talking about.”

  “Zach….”

  “Yeah. I do. I did.” He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, a long exhalation redolent with pain and grief. “What do you want to know? What it felt like?”

  “Yes,” Brian said softly. “What it felt like. What you felt.”

  “I felt his windpipe crunch when I crushed it,” Zach said, speaking to Brian but watching David’s face. I still hear it sometimes. I remember that. I remember the way it felt, standing on his back with him on the floor beneath me, feeling the muscles convulse under my bare feet and trying to stay standing by digging my toes into his ribs, and the feel of his come trickling down my legs as I rode him like a circus bareback rider. “I remember the leather of the leash cutting into my hands.” He opened his hands and looked down at them. “There was blood on my hands,” he said, “but no place else. He didn’t bleed. He choked to death. I choked him to death.”

  He looked back up at David. “They said what I did was impossible. He was twice my weight and solid muscle. His neck was thick and hard and I was eighty-six pounds and all bones. But I did it. I killed him. I yanked him off his feet and garroted him with my own leash until he was dead.”

  David’s face was white, his eyes black holes. He said nothing, just stared at Zach as if he were a stranger. Zach turned to Brian. “You’ll get your interview. I want to talk to my lawyers and we’ll get back to you.” He plucked the card from David’s resistless fingers. “One way or another, you’ll get your story.” Then he turned and walked out of the bar. A moment later they heard the roar of his engine as he gunned it, and the rattle of gravel as he sped away.

  David turned to look at Brian, stunned and speechless. Brian said, “It was all in Captain Rogers’ report. I got a copy of it—heavily redacted, of course, but I could read between the blacked-out lines. Thank you, FOIA.”

  “I didn’t know,” David said numbly.

  “No. Not many people do. I wouldn’t, either, but I have contacts in the State Department.” Brian regarded him compassionately. “You don’t give him enough credit. You still think of him as this unworldly, sheltered little fifteen-year-old, but he’s so much more than that now. He’s been through things that you and I—God willing—will never have to go through.”

  “And you’re still going to write your fucking story,” David said bitterly.

  “Yeah. Because he needs to tell it and the world needs to hear it. But I can tell you this—if you care at all about that kid, you will move your ass and catch up to him, because if you don’t, I will, and it will have nothing to do with the story.”

  David looked at Brian, really looked at him, then turned and ran for his car.

  IN A haze of misery, Zach parked the Ducati under the overhang and climbed the stairs to his apartment, opening the door and stepping inside, then closing it and leaning back against it in exhaustion. Surprisingly, he was calm; no sign of a panic attack threatening. But he felt dazed and numb, the only thing clear in his memory of the last hour David’s shocked, horrified face and his own voice, coldly recounting the murder. He reached behind him and threw the rarely used deadbolt, then slid down to the floor and leaned back against the door, too drained to even stand.

  It was only a few minutes later that he heard feet pounding up the stairs, then the doorknob rattling. “Zach? Zach! Lemme in, Zach. Come on, I know you’re in there, Jesus, let me in!” Then the jingling clatter of keys and the scrape of one being hastily shoved in the lock, and the click of tumblers and the pressure of the door as David tried to open it against Zach’s weight. Zach set his sneakers on the tile floor of the entry and braced himself against the door. “Zach! Cut it out. Let me in.”

  “Go away, David,” Zach said dully.

  “No! Come on, let me in. I need to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk.”

  “Fine, then I’ll talk, you’ll listen.”

  “I don’t want to listen, either.”

  “What do you want, then?”

  “For you to go away.”

  There was a thump of frustration against the door and when the voice spoke again, it came from lower down, as if David had mimicked Zach’s position on the porch. “I’m not going away. I need to see you, Zach. We need to talk.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Open the fucking door, Zach.”

  Zach ignored him, just pushed back until he heard the door latch again, then reached up to throw the deadbolt again. He dragged himself to his feet and grabbed a kitchen chair, wedging it under the doorknob so even if David got the door unlocked again, he wouldn’t be able to open the door.

  “Zach? What are you doing?”

  “None of your fucking business.”

  “Jesus, Zach, what is the matter with you? Why won’t you let me in? I need to be with you, Zach. I need to talk to you.”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  “Nothing to say? Christ, are you crazy? There’s a lot to say. A lot I need to say. Please, Zach. Let me in. Please. God, don’t be doing anything stupid!” He pounded on the door. “Open this God-damned fucking door right now, God damn it, or I’m going to get your parents and your mother is going to be so fucking upset she’ll probably fall apart, and your dad will have a heart attack, and….”

  “All right!” Zach shouted. “Just shut the fuck up!” He jerked the chair from under the knob and unlocked the door, yanking it open so David practically fell into the room. “What the fuck do you want???” He dropped onto the chair and folded his arms.

  David stood in the doorway, his hair looking like he’d been dragged backwards through a bush and his eyes wild. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” he gasped. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  Zach shrugged.

  “What is the matter with you?” David demanded. He went to his knees beside the chair, putting his arm across Zach’s lap. “Why are you acting like this?”

  “Why are you acting like nothing’s wrong?” Zach retorted. “You’re pretending like I just all of a sudden started acting weird for no reason. I saw your face, David. I saw what you were thinking. And just because you somehow decided that you needed to pretend you didn’t hear what you heard doesn’t mean I’m ready to just forget what I said. Or how you looked when I said it.” He shoved David’s arm away and stood, slamming the chair back against the wall. “I’m not going to kill myself or anything stupid like that, so you can go home with a clear conscience, okay? We’re done. I’d be stupid if I didn’t realize that. So you don’t have to say anything. Just… go away.”


  “What do you mean, ‘we’re done’?” David asked in confusion. “What did I do?”

  “What did you do?” Zach laughed humorlessly. “You didn’t do anything. You’re just David. Perfect David. God’s gift.”

  “What are you talking about? What are you saying? I don’t understand, Zach. Why are you saying this?” He reached out to touch Zach’s arm, but Zach jerked away. David stared at him in disbelief, his eyes filling. “Zach?”

  “Go away, David. Just… just go away.”

  White, David stumbled back. Zach put his hand on David’s chest and pushed him gently outside. “Zach?” he tried again, but Zach shook his head, not meeting his eyes. God, this was killing him…. He closed the door again behind David, locked it, and put the chair back under the knob. Then he went and sat on the sofa in the dark, staring unseeingly out the French doors. His thoughts tumbled like stones in a polisher, never still enough to focus on, just noisy and flickering sparks against dark.

  When the sky was starting to lighten and his head was aching and his eyes were like sandpaper from lack of sleep, he dragged himself up from the couch and went to pull the drapes closed against the morning sun. As he reached for the cord, he glanced down to see David’s car still parked on the concrete in front of the garage. Frowning, he removed the chair from under the doorknob, and unlocked and opened the door.

  David looked up from where he sat against the porch railing, his arms around his knees and his face pale and drawn, his eyes reddened from crying. “You been there all night?” Zach asked expressionlessly.

  David nodded.

  There was a long moment of silence, then Zach held the door open. “You might as well come in, then.”

  David got awkwardly to his feet and followed Zach into the apartment.

  “You want some breakfast?”

  “If you’re having some.”

  Zach nodded, then went into the kitchen and took some rolls out of the freezer. David went to the coffeemaker and started coffee. They worked in silence, going through the same motions they did most mornings, but without the usual joking and teasing and affectionate touches. This must be what it was like to be married to someone who didn’t love you anymore, Zach thought. This must be what it was like to live in a failed marriage. Only he and David weren’t married and weren’t likely to be. The thought caught in his throat and he made a choking sound. David whirled and said, “Are you okay?” in a voice that trembled.

  “I’m fine,” Zach said. Even to his own ears he sounded like he was strangling. He put the rolls in the oven and closed the door, then turned around.

  David was watching him. He met David’s eyes, then looked away. “Zach,” David said.

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  “No, I don’t want to talk about it. No, I don’t have anything to say. No whatever fits the bill.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask anything.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  David let out a long exhalation. “I’m here,” he said carefully, “because I love you and because you’re upset and I want to be here. That’s all.”

  “How can you say that?” Zach demanded, his voice rising sharply. “How can you say anything like that after what I said last night?”

  “Which part? The ‘we’re done’ part or the ‘not going to kill yourself’ part?”

  “Neither! Jesus, are you being deliberately obtuse? I fucking killed a man, David! I’m a murderer! And you stand there like it’s no big deal when I saw how you looked when you heard that.”

  “Yeah, okay!” David shouted. “I was shocked! It’s not an easy thing to hear, you know—what it fucking felt like to strangle someone? And knowing it was you and that you were driven so far over the edge that it was the only way out for you? Jesus, it just about killed me.” He sucked in a ragged breath. “And it fucking hurt that I didn’t know, that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about it. That I had to hear about it from a stranger—a fucking reporter, God damn it. That you weren’t sure enough about me to even tell me the truth. That you’ve been lying to me all along.”

  “I thought you knew,” Zach said miserably. “Up until a few weeks ago I thought you’d known all along and that you were okay with it. Not that I killed someone, but the circumstances. And then you made that speech about how if I had killed him it would have damaged me and all that crap. And I realized that you didn’t know—and that I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to know how fucked up I really am. I didn’t want you to ever know because then you’d know the truth about me.”

  “I already know the truth about you, Zach,” David said. “The important things. Like the fact that you try harder than anyone I know at anything you do. That you take life way too seriously. That you don’t have a great self-image despite being the most fucking wonderful person I’ve ever met.” He paused and scraped with one finger at an invisible smudge on the countertop. “That no matter how hard I try, I can’t be enough for you. I can’t protect you. I can’t take care of you. I’m just not enough.”

  “What are you talking about?” Zach demanded. “You’re everything I want.”

  “But I’m not what you need.”

  “Bullshit. I need you. When I left Bella’s last night I thought I was going to die. I felt like I’d had part of me cut off. And there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it because it was my own fault. And here you are thinking it was your fault I fucked up?”

  “Not my fault,” David said tiredly. “But my responsibility. At least, that’s how I felt at Bella’s. And that bastard Brian was right, damn him to hell. I can’t protect you.” He laughed humorlessly. “God, you’d think I’d have figured that out seven years ago? But no, here you are back, and I fall right back into that mindset. Protect Zach.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  David sat down at the table, his coffee mug forgotten on the counter. Zach took it, added cream the way David liked it, and set it on the table in front of him, then got his own and sat down across from him. David sighed. “Do you remember when my dad died?”

  “I remember the funeral,” Zach said. “I don’t really remember your dad, though.”

  “You were only about six at the time, so that doesn’t surprise me. During the luncheon afterwards, you got restless, and I took you out of the restaurant and let you run around for a while to wear you out. Then we sat on the porch of the restaurant and you fell asleep on my knee. While we were sitting there, your dad came out and sat down on the step next to me. He started talking about my dad, and how when he met him at MIT he—your dad—was only seventeen and it was his first time away from home and how my dad was already a sophomore and how he took your dad under his wing and taught him how to go on, and watched out for him and everything. And how my mom watched out for yours at Radcliffe, so it was kind of like the Evanses always looking out for the Tylers. And that he didn’t know what he was going to do without Phil keeping an eye on him the way he always did, helping him with the business side of the company, and helping him bounce ideas, and stuff. He was crying and that freaked me out some, but I said I would help him if he wanted me to. And he said, no, he’d have to learn to manage on his own, but he’d appreciate it if I would watch out for you. Of course I said I would. I tried to keep that promise, Zach. I failed once, epic fail on a galactic scale, but when you came back, I jumped right back into trying to protect you again. But you don’t need me to protect you. Brian was right. You can take care of yourself.”

  “No,” Zach said. “He was wrong. I need you, Taff.”

  “No, you don’t.” He reached over and put his hand on Zach’s. “You really don’t. But I think it’s gonna be hard for me to deal with that. That’s why”—he took a breath—“that’s why I’m not going to go with you to Boston next year.”

  Zach jerked his hand back. “Then it is over,” he said dully.

  David said carefully, his face pale and his voice shaking, “If that’s your choice.” />
  “My choice?” Zach lunged to his feet. “My choice? You just sat outside all night long to tell me we’re over and you think it’s my choice? That’s rich, Taff. You couldn’t just take my word for it last night. Couldn’t just go away and let it be done. No, you had to hang around to tell me this? What do you call this, ‘closure’ or something? You asked what you did wrong last night. You made me think you wanted to make this work, to get past it, to move on, but here you are dumping me and trying to make me think it was my decision? That’s bullshit. You’re fucking with my head.”

  “What are you talking about?” David was on his feet now, hands fisted. “What the hell, Zach? I didn’t say anything about breaking up with you! I love you!”

  Zach backed away until the breakfast bar stopped him. “What are you talking about, Taff? You said you weren’t going to come with me next fall!”

  “I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you until you leave….”

  “Oh, ‘forever and always or twelve months, whichever comes first’?” Zach’s voice was bitter. “Well, what if I say ‘fuck MIT’ and don’t go? You gonna stay around forever then?”

  “You are going to MIT,” David said fiercely. “You are not going to let whatever you feel for me stop you, ever, do you hear me? And I am going to stay around forever. I meant forever and always, damn you!”

  “You confuse the hell out of me, David! I don’t know what the hell you want from me!”

  Zach’s headache was pounding now, threatening to push his eyeballs out from the inside. “I don’t understand you,” he said. “I don’t understand any of this. Christ, I think my head’s gonna fall off.” He closed his eyes and turned around, leaning on the breakfast bar, his face in his hands.

  He heard the scrape of the chair legs on the flagstone floor, then warm hands settled at his temples. “I’m sorry,” David whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean I was leaving you. I didn’t mean anything even remotely like that. I meant forever and always, Zach. I still do.” He rubbed Zach’s temples gently with his fingertips, working his thumbs over the base of his skull.