by JA Huss
I didn’t get it, I just knew it was wrong. More wrong than any confusing feelings I ever had for Ixion.
And I felt shame.
It was a dirty little game and that’s exactly what it felt like.
Dirty.
Being alone with this girl made me feel dirty. Filled me with shame.
And when I got back home Ixion asked me, “How was the hunt? Did you tag a deer?”
So it must’ve been deer. Because I remember staring at his face as he asked me that.
And I said, “No. It wasn’t that kind of hunting trip.”
And somehow he could tell something was wrong. He knew. He felt it, or I was acting weird, or I dunno. He just knew.
I remember sitting up in my room at my desk, just staring out my window. There was a pine tree just outside. Ix and I used to climb it when we were small. I fell off once and broke my arm. He was there for that. Went with me to the hospital. Signed a great big red X on my cast.
And he was there this night too. He decided to sleep over. And I know now that it was because he was worried about me. He didn’t want to leave me alone. I had these moods I went though sometimes. And therapists I’d go talk to. But until that night when I tied that rope around the tree branch, slipped it around my neck, and was about to jump off and end everything for good… I didn’t understand why my parents made me see therapists.
You’re not supposed to like boys.
But I did like him.
He stopped me. He saved me.
How could I not love him for that?
And then he saved me again when I fucked everyone over in LA. He swooped in like the best friend he was and pulled me out of the flames.
What would my dad have thought of me if Ixion wasn’t there?
Should I care? Since it was him, and that weekend with that girl who made me who I am today? Is that why I can’t manage a normal relationship with a woman? Is that why all the world’s a game to me?
Is that why… is that why I had Chella’s father killed and never even blinked?
Was it him—my father—who I really wanted dead?
The sound of a slamming car door wakes me up. Sunlight is shining through the windows. Boots thud on the old wooden porch as they approach the door.
Then knocking. “Jordan?”
It’s Ixion.
“Come in,” I croak out, my throat still dry from sleep.
He opens the door and peeks his head in cautiously. “Hey,” he says, coming inside and then closing the door behind him.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“Augustine called, looking for you. And then Evangeline mentioned she had lunch with you yesterday so I got Darrel to track your company car. What the fuck are you doing up here?”
He walks across the room and takes a seat in the chair opposite the couch. I sit up, rubbing a hand down my face to wake myself up.
“Did she tell you?” I ask. “About the house?”
“What house?”
“My house.”
“What about it?”
“She found out what happened to the family who used to live there.”
“OK.” He waits for me to explain, so when I don’t, he continues. “Well, what happened to them?”
“We decided not to tell you.”
This make him grin, rake his fingers through his tousled hair, and then chuckle. “So why bring it up?”
“Because that’s why I’m here, I guess.”
He gets serious then. Props his foot on his opposite knee to wait me out.
“You remember that time I came up here with my dad to go… hunting?”
“Which time?” he asks. But I can tell by the expression on his face, just after the words come out of his mouth, that he knows which time.
I nod. Then swallow hard and lean forward, head in my hands, and stare at my feet. I still have my shoes on. I still have my suit on. I must look like a total fucking mess. “It wasn’t hunting.”
“No?” Ix asks. Cautious now. “I mean… I figured something bad happened since, you know, what you did that night I stayed over was kinda… drastic.”
I nod again, then lift my head a little so I can look at him from underneath my tumbling hair. “He had a prostitute waiting for me up here.”
“What?”
“Yeah. He left me with her and then… then she told me why. He wanted her to fix me.”
Ixion shakes his head, not understanding. “Fix you? How?”
“I guess… I guess he was afraid I was gay?” I shrug.
“What?” Ix whispers.
“Yeah. So he hired this girl. She was young, like probably not even eighteen. He hired her to… I dunno.”
“Fuck you, obviously,” Ix offers.
“No,” I say. “I mean, yeah. That. But it was more than that, Ixion. It was weird. Very, very weird shit. Like BDSM shit.”
He just stares at me. “Why? I mean, OK. I’ve heard of this kind of shit from other kids when we were in high school. Other boys who got this kind of gift. A kinda get-it-out-of-your-system type thing. But you were like…”
“Twelve,” I say. “I was twelve.”
“That’s the year…” But then he pauses. Thinks about that for a second.
And I wonder, is he putting two and two together now? Because twelve… that’s the year I started using the cameras to find out people’s secrets. That’s the year I talked him into doing it too. That’s the year we figured out his father had a mistress and his mother knew about it, and… yeah. Kinda shattered his perfect illusion of love and family.
“That’s the year I got weird,” I finish for him.
“That’s why you wanted to kill yourself that night?”
I shrug. Because I… guess?
“Are you gay?” he asks.
“I guess bi counts as gay. I dunno. I like women too. I don’t really want to fuck dudes. I just want more. I don’t know why, Ixion. It just makes me…”
“Happy?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah. I just like it. I like not being the only one. I like sharing. I like… kink.” That last word. Kink. It comes out soft and low. Like I’m ashamed, which is stupid. Because everyone already knows all this about me. There’s not a person in my inner circle who doesn’t know what I am. What I like. What I want.
Even my father knows this. Somewhere along the way he just… accepted it. It’s not a secret. I’m not hiding who I am.
So why is it so hard to admit it out loud to my best friend?
“I hate your father,” Ixion finally says, breaking my silence.
“I don’t,” I say.
Ixion huffs out a laugh, then sighs. A long, loud exhale. “He was always mean to me. Trying to make me stop being your friend. He was a dick. And when I got out of jail, after… you know… he called me up one day.”
“What?”
“Yeah,” Ix says. “It was the usual sorry-for-your-loss bullshit. But then right before he hung up, he said, ‘You killed them. That stunt you pulled in LA was what killed them.’”
“Jesus Christ,” I say. “I’m so fucking sorry, Ix.”
“Wasn’t you. I mean”—he huffs—“I blamed you, I did. But it wasn’t you who killed them. And it wasn’t me either. And you know what?” He stares at me. His eyes glassy. Blurry. Bloodshot like he’s been up all night driving out here.
“What?”
“Fuck him. Fuck my dad, ya know? He cheated on my mom all those years. And fuck her too.”
“Don’t do that,” I say. “Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” He laughs. “Don’t tell the truth? I mean, look. I took the fall for you because I didn’t want your life to get screwed up over such a stupid mistake. And fuck Augustine for believing I was the one who made that sex tape. And fuck Alexander too. Fuck everyone. They all thought I was that kind of guy, ya know? The kind of guy who’d make a sex tape of his friend to ruin her life.”
“You’re not, I am.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Y
ou are that guy.” And then he laughs. “But I don’t even care that you’re that guy. Because deep down we’re all fucked up. Everyone is fucked up. We all have secrets. We all have shame. We all have something in the past we’re not proud of. We all make mistakes. And if he had just left you alone, you’d have been fine. I always knew you loved me. I always knew that, Jordan. Because you wear your love all over your face. And I stuck around anyway.”
“Why?” I ask.
He shrugs. “That’s what friends do.”
I just stare at him. And now my eyes are glassy. “I’m fucked up, Ix. I’m really fucked up. That girl, that night, here… she called it playing games. She played a game with me. And somehow I took that and made it who I was. Somehow—”
But Ixion has crossed the small space that separates us. He sits down on the couch next to me, puts his arm around my neck, and pulls me in to a hug.
Not a bro hug. A real hug.
“Somehow,” I continue, “I took her game and made it mine.”
“So what?” he says, still hugging me. “So what?”
I pull back, wiping my eyes. “So I fuck with people. The way she fucked with me. I scare them, and make them uncomfortable, and I like it. Because she did that to me and I hated it. I want to be her, the one in control, and not me, the scared kid. I want to hurt people, Ixion.”
“You’re stupid,” he says. “Who have you hurt?”
“You,” I say. “Augustine. Alexander. I ruined everything because I played these stupid games. I ruined all of us.”
“Come on,” he says. “You’re not that important. You’re not that powerful. You can’t take credit for my fuckups. Those are all mine, asshole. And you’re certainly not gonna take credit for my happiness, either. Also all mine.”
“You took the blame for me,” I say. “Why did you do that? And don’t say that’s what friends do. No one takes that kind of blame to save a friend. Not when said friend fucked you over.”
He smiles. Shakes his head a little. Then frowns. “Because you always had a future, and I never did.”
“You’re a goddamned billionaire, Ixion. Your family had more money than God. You did have a future before I fucked it up. And now look at you! You’re—”
“I’m fucking perfect.”
“Your whole family is dead!” I say. “That’s what Evangeline and I are hiding from you! That house I live in? That beautiful empty mansion that used to hold a family? Well, they all died last year in a car crash. That’s why I’m here. It made me realize what I took from you—”
“Stop being an asshole,” Ixion barks. “They died in a car crash. A drunk driver killed them.”
“But they all died thinking you made that sex tape. They all died thinking you were a criminal. And you were sitting in jail and didn’t even get to go to the funeral. They all died thinking—”
“They died thinking of me the way they saw me, Jordan. My father never said, ‘Tell me what happened, Ix. I’m on your side. I’ll believe you if you say you’re innocent. I’ll help you if you say you’re not.’ He never said that. He said…” Ixion pauses.
“He said what?” I ask.
Ix swallows hard and takes a deep breath. “He said… ‘I always knew you’d end up this way.’ And yeah, maybe your dad’s an asshole. No, he is an asshole. But at least… at least he always had your back. My dad never had my back. My dad accused me of stealing his good cognac, and fucking things up with his mistress, and—”
“That was me!” I say.
“I know, dumbass!” And then he laughs. “I know it was you! He probably knew it was you too! But he wanted it to be me. He wanted it to be me, Jordan.”
There’s a long silence in the room. I think we’re both holding our breath.
“He wanted it to be me, so it was. He hated me and that’s all there is to it. He said he was cutting me out of the will. And if they had died a few days later, he would’ve and I’d have been left penniless. But they didn’t, they died that day. And I had nothing to do with it. And you had nothing to do with it. And fuck it, right? I miss my little sister. She didn’t deserve that. But… but I refuse to feel guilty because they died and I lived. I did that already. I spent eight years doing that. And then you know what happened? One day Jordan Wells pulls me out of a jail cell, cashes in a favor he didn’t want to use, and gives me a second chance at happiness. So fuck off with your bullshit guilt, Wells. OK? Just fuck off. Because what I’m really here to say is…”
He reaches for my shoulder. Grips it with his hand and I’m holding my breath again.
“Is thank you, man. Just… thank you. Things go the way they go and what comes out the other end is exactly what you put into it. That’s all there is to life. What you get is what you give. And you give a whole hell of a lot, Jordan. A whole helluva lot.”
He stares at me. Waiting for my reaction. His eyes almost pleading with me to say something.
I breathe. Internalize. And then say, “You wanna kiss me, don’t you?”
He pushes me away, laughing. “Fuck you.”
But then… but then he reaches for me again. And he does.
He kisses me. It’s a nice kiss too. Right on the lips. No tongue or anything like that. No passion or romance. It’s just innocent, and nice, and perfect.
And when he pulls back he says, “That’s all I got for you.”
And I say, “It’s more than I deserve.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
We take separate cars back to Denver because—obviously. And he goes his way and I go my way, except… I don’t know where to go.
I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to think about that house. But I don’t want to go to the Bartos house either. I could go to work, but the day is pretty much over and my father might be there.
I do not want to see him right now. I have not even begun to sort through those feelings yet.
So I go to the only place I can go.
Chella’s.
Is it weird that my new best friend is a married woman?
“What the fuck?” Smith says when he opens their front door. “Dude, why are you always dropping by?”
Obviously her husband thinks it is.
“Because she’s on maternity leave and I can’t just pop over to her tea room.”
“Is that Jordan?” Chella calls from somewhere inside the house. “Yay! Company!”
I give Smith a smug smile and push past him and make my way into the living room at the back of the house.
“Hey!” Chella says.
“Hey,” I say back, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Wow, look at this guy! He’s adorable.”
She sighs as she holds her sleeping newborn son in her arms. “I know. He’s so perfect. Such a good sleeper already.”
Smith grunts and takes a seat in the chair across from the couch.
“What?” Chella says. “Four hours at a time—that’s like a miracle, Smith. And he’s not bothered at all by the dogs when they bark. He’s already an animal lover. He’s so… easy-going.”
“So you say,” Smith says. Clearly new fatherhood is taking its toll on him because his eyes are bloodshot and he’s got the beginnings of dark circles underneath.
“Hmm. He must take after you, Chella.”
Smith shoots me a look. “So what is it now, Wells? What problem do you have that only my wife can solve?”
“If it’s a bad time—”
“It’s not,” Chella insists, standing up and walking over to a bassinet and laying the baby down. He fusses and coos for a moment and Chella shushes him as she pats his back. “No one is coming by to visit me. I feel like a shut-in.”
I glance at Smith and he looks appropriately guilty. He’s been keeping people away.
“No one but this guy.”
“I never got the memo,” I say, kinda glad I dropped by. And not just because it drives Smith crazy, either. But because they’re so normal now. It gives me hope. Like… maybe I have a future. Maybe I’m not hopeless.
I mean, they were me when they met. Maybe even worse than me. They were some pretty fucked-up people a couple years ago. Smith and his weird quirks. Chella desperate to get over her past.
Separate they were lost, but together… together they are a spectacular team.
“You ever worry…” But I stop. Because I shouldn’t bring my bullshit in here. They’re so happy. And it was a tough road for them. It wasn’t easy but they pulled it off.
“Do we ever worry what?” Chella asks.
“Never mind.”
“No, say it,” Smith says. “Do we ever worry about what?”
I run my fingers through my hair. “Do ya ever worry you’ll fuck him up?” They both just stare at me. “Forget it,” I say hurriedly. “Never mind. Of course not, you guys are—”
“A fuckin’ mess?” Chella says. She smiles at me. “Because we are? Because we’re human and we make mistakes. And we all have this baggage we carry around. And then yeah, you get pregnant and all those fuck-ups your parents made suddenly come rushing back.”
“And you ask yourself,” Smith says, picking it up. “‘Will I do the same? Will I fail him?’”
I nod. “Yeah. All that.”
“I think if we didn’t have that fear,” Smith says, “I’d be more worried about us.”
I nod again. “You guys are gonna kill this parenting stuff. I can tell.”
“You will too, Jordan,” Chella says. “One day, when you find the right people”—and I laugh at that. Because she knows me. And she loves me anyway—“you guys are gonna rock the family shit. You’re one of the good ones.”
“Fuck,” I say. But my throat is tight and my eyes are watering. “No, I’m not. What I do, what I did—”
“What you did,” Chella says, interrupting me, “for me… that was a gift. OK?”
And I don’t know what she’s talking about. Killing her father? Or just being her friend?
I look to Smith for help and he gives me a weak smile. “She knows it was you. And I told her I paid you.”
