by A Zukowski
“Yeah. Shit.” Alex runs his palm down his face to
dry the sweat. “How long have I been sleeping?” He
looks around some more, as though to check if
they’re alone.
Chris shakes his head. “I have no clue. I came
back from work and you were already asleep.”
Alex puts his feet on the floor, his elbows on his
knees. Covering his head with his hands, he pants,
trying to calm down.
Chris fills a glass with water from the kitchen and
holds it out to Alex, who takes it and smiles wearily.
“Thank you.”
Chris sits on the floor, at Alex’s feet, like a curious
cat. “You okay?”
Alex gazes at him. “Ah, I’m better.”
Chris knows he’s not and strips off his usual
sarcasm, hiding his concern with a veil of calm.
Alex downs the whole glass of water in one go. “I
had a nightmare.” The haunted voice and the
tremble of the words tell a different story.
“Was that why you quit boxing?”
Alex nods.
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“And you went to prison for it?” Chris asks,
almost in a whisper, allowing his lilt to help Alex
focus, to give him a sense of security with a
practised gentleness.
“How do you know? Did you check me out
online?”
Chris stands and moves over to the empty end of
the sofa. He leans against the back of the couch and
faces Alex. “No, I didn’t. I don’t know much about
you, sweetheart, but…do you want a hug?”
“A hug.” Alex nods under Chris’s hypnotism.
Chris shifts closer to Alex and winds his arm
around his neck and upper arm because the man’s
is bigger. He presses his lips to Alex’s stubbly cheek
and inhales the scent of clean sweat, not infused by
the smell of sex—what he often associates with
being so close to someone.
“You called me honey.”
Chris grins in the dark. “Yeah, and sweetheart.”
Chris hasn’t asked Alex about his past, about
what he did to ruin his career, to deserve the intense
gaze of strangers everywhere he goes. Alex has been
in jail, so it’s not a minor crime, and yet Chris gives
him a hug, awarding him with a warm friendly kiss
on his face and using endearments to comfort him.
Chris doesn’t always retort and argue and drown in
sarcasm. He knows how to provide the soft warm
safety that Alex clearly craves.
Alex melts into Chris’s slender arms as if he wants
to stay there forever.
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CHAPTER 4
DANCE
CHRIS IS HAVING soup for dinner when Alex comes
out of the shower. She wishes her flatmate wouldn’t
walk around half naked. It’s distracting. But it has
nothing to do with attraction. Really.
A few minutes later, Alex emerges from his room
in a pair of shorts and a white vest that is too small.
He makes ham and cheese sandwiches and a cup of
coffee and joins Chris at the table. Looking at the
pieces of limp white bread, Chris wants to tut. Come
on, the guy must be in his early thirties and yet he
can’t cook for himself? Fuck if she didn’t want to
care about Alex like an idiot.
“Are you on early tomorrow?” Chris asks him
when she finishes eating.
“Yeah, I’m covering the day shift for another
guard this week. Why?”
“I’m heading to a club tomorrow night. You
wanna come?” She can call one of her mates to go
with, but if Alex is interested, she’d be happy to
hang out with him. It has nothing to do with her
little dancing heart because she’s sitting close to
Alex. Hell, no.
Alex wolves down three sandwiches in the space
of as many minutes. He shakes his head. “I don’t
think so.”
“Why not?” Chris dares him to come out of his
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self-imposed prison.
“I…” Alex hesitates. He swallows as colour rises in
his rugged cheeks.
Seeing Alex’s reluctance, Chris adds, “It’ll be
dark.”
“Just you?”
“Yup. You and me, and a bunch of queers, I hope.
Well, are you thinking it’s not your scene?” She
arches her right eyebrow as a provocation.
“No, no. It’s not that. I’m a little nervous in a
crowd.”
Chris puts down her empty glass and regards Alex
seriously. “When was it you last got laid?”
“That’s…none of your business.”
He picks up a pint glass of water and drinks from
it to hide the colour rising in his face, but he gulps
too fast and nearly chokes.
“It isn’t my business but I’m asking.” Chris stares
at him, taunting.
Alex blinks a couple of times before uttering,
“Getting laid…”
As he indulges in his jumbled thoughts, Chris
continues, “Well, that confirmed my suspicion. Your
dry spell has gone on for far too long, my friend.
We’re going out, and I’m getting you a woman to
take to bed.”
Alex opens his mouth twice but doesn’t protest.
Chris takes his hesitation as a yes. “So, tomorrow
night. Ten thirty. We’ll order a taxi. Dress smartly.”
She cocks her head, studying his white vest that
barely contain his big muscles, and points at his
chest. “You do have smart clothes, don’t you? You
know, a shirt with buttons?”
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Alex’s eyes twinkle, then he tuts. “Yes. Don’t you
worry about me showing you up.”
“I’m not worried about being shown up as long as
you show up!” Chris tries hard to suppress her
cheeky grin.
~~~
The next evening, as Alex takes his dress shirt and
a good pair of trousers out of his wardrobe, he
wonders why he’s let himself be talked into going
out. What is it about Chris that always persuades
him to do things he wouldn’t have done otherwise?
Recklessness. He’s never been one for it except that
one time.
Alex realises that Chris gives him a sense of
security. He does not feel uneasy around his new
flatmate because of his nonchalance and lack of
knowledge about boxing or Alex’s past.
Public spaces make Alex break out in hives, but
he’s also desperate to spend more time with Chris.
None of Alex’s past acquaintances survived the test
of hard times, and Chris is as different from them as
he could be. Right now, he is the only person Alex is
comfortable enough to go out with.
For the first time in five years, this new Alex
wants to go out because he can imagine having fun
with Chris.
Chris has brought out all Alex’s hidden desires. At
training, the boxers were fit, and he’d avoided
watching them in the dressing room, but he loved it
most when they were in the ring: the muscles, their
f
eet moving, dancing across the square. The beads
of sweat and stretched skin. Powerful drives that
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seared through his defences, and a secret that he
needed to hide. He’d thought about how their
bodies might feel. He’d convinced himself he could
suppress his attraction to the same sex as long as he
found distractions. It was too dangerous to reveal
himself in Essex, in the boxing world, especially for
a Heavyweight Champ. Passing for straight and
suppressing his impulses was one of the many
sacrifices he had to make.
Even though he’s agreed to go out, Alex doubts
having sex with a stranger will solve his problems,
especially since he probably can’t get it up.
Erotically challenged. His right hand has been the
only and infrequent sexual partner he’s had in the
past few years. He wants Chris’s company, not an
anonymous hookup. Even Alex knows about the
apps for that.
Has he got smart clothes?
He used to have plenty: a huge house by the sea,
several cars, fine clothes, jewellery. The house paid
for the compensation ordered by the court, the
barristers and court costs. Before he went to jail, he
sold everything else and gave the money to his
parents. They no doubt misused it on drinks and
other vices. Money evaporates, and it doesn’t buy a
whole lot of things, least of all happiness. It’s not a
cliché at all.
Alex is not searching for happiness, though. No
one offers counselling on being a famous ex-con so
he definitely has no clue how to deal with his
anxieties. Numbness is good enough for a man like
him. He’s still taking his pills five years later.
Alex pulls out his remaining couple of decent
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outfits. He hasn’t let himself go. He has been
working out in the park. When it’s quiet at work, he
carries on the training that has become second
nature to him.
Even so, he lost weight in jail and has not
regained it. The black shirt still fits well, but the
tailored trousers are a little loose, so Alex tightens
his belt. Chris is right about adjustments he has to
make, now that he is no longer boxing. He doesn’t
own any aftershaves, so a spray of Old Spice will
have to suffice. Alex sighs as he gets ready. He also
questions why a beautiful soul like Chris would
want to date an ugly, sick bastard like him. No, it’s
not even a date, not for the mesmerising Chris.
Alex can’t back out now. He breathes in deeply to
brace himself.
Chris is smoking in the lounge when Alex
emerges from his bedroom. Chris stares at Alex.
Chris is his usual stunning self, even though he’s
only wearing a plain shirt and skinny jeans. He’s
applied light make-up and a single dangling earring
adorns his left earlobe. There’s a wide ring on his
index finger and a silver chain around his wrist.
Alex asks, indicating his dress shirt, “Well, do I
have your approval?”
“Yeah, great.” Chris ogles with open mouth,
revealing the tip of his tongue. He swallows and
licks his lips.
Alex scowls at Chris’s unconscious but seductive
gesture and shifts his feet. “What?”
“You’re tense.” Chris waves his cigarette around.
“No, I’m not.”
Chris purses his lips.
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Alex groans. “I’m a bit nervous. I’ll be fine, but it’s
been years since I went to a club. The media
pressure. You don’t understand it unless you have
firsthand experience.”
Chris cocks his head. “No, I don’t. But I’ll be
there, okay? I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you. Chris being so kind and supportive is
suspicious.
“All right. Let’s do it.” Despite his reservations,
Alex wants to make an effort and brave the
consequences because Chris is worth it.
~~~
Chris says as they emerge from their taxi, “This
place is perfect for you straights.”
Alex is not ready to have that conversation with
Chris, but he trusts Chris’s choice and follows him
into the club. The clientele appears to be a decent
mix, and they are not too young and rowdy. Down
in the basement dance floor, beautiful half-naked
bodies are already wriggling to electronic music.
Chris finds a quiet corner and two stools hidden in
shadows.
“Sit and relax. I’ll go to the bar. What’s your
poison?”
“Diet Coke, please.”
Chris expertly weaves his way through the crowd.
Alex watches his strong back and narrow waist and
wishes he could touch Chris’s body, especially his
arse. Chris will freak out and bite his head off for
sure if he confesses his growing attraction and
gropes him.
Alex has to restrain himself and redirect his
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thoughts. Just a friend. Repeat.
Two men come forth, trapping Alex. They start
talking to him before he can do anything. Chris
seems to sense the situation from the bar and
hurries back with their drinks, but the dancing
crowd are in the way. Still, Chris threads through
the pack of revellers with more skills than a figure
skater on ice.
One of the two men asks Alex, “So good to see you
out, Blue. Are you going to box again?”
Without responding, Alex glances past the
intruders to meet Chris’s eyes, as though he is
sending an SOS signal for help.
“Can we take a selfie with you?” the other man
asks, already holding up his mobile. Alex
automatically shields his face with his right hand as
the two men position themselves at his sides.
Chris plonks the two drinks down and puts on the
most authoritative voice possible. “I’m sorry, but
Mr. Whale is not answering questions or allowing
photography right now.”
The eyes of the one who asked for the selfie
widen. “Oh. Are you his manager?”
Chris glares at him with enough venom to kill.
“I’m a member of Mr. Whale’s security team. I’d
appreciate your cooperation, sir.”
“Oh. Okay.” The bloke sounds disappointed.
The two look at each other and step back, still
glancing at Alex. Staring at them coolly, Chris waits
till they have gone and hands the glass of Coke to
Alex, who takes a large gulp. Chris sits on the other
stool and drinks his whiskey.
Alex bursts out laughing, making Chris frown.
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“I’m glad you find it funny. I don’t normally
expect to act when I’m out dancing.”
“You? My bodyguard?” Alex’s shoulders bob up
and down while he tries to stop himself.
Chris points to Alex’s broad chest. “Have you got
a better fucking idea? Let’s hear it.”
Alex stops eventually. “No.
It’s just amusing. I
think I can take on four of those men.” He sips from
his glass again. “Anyway, how’d you know what to
say?”
Chris slices his fingers through his short, ash-
blonde hair. “Pretending to be a bodyguard? I, um…
have some experience of this kind of thing.”
“What kind of experience?”
Chris bites his lip. “I’ve come across different
situations with stars and celebrities. I was an actor.”
“I thought you were only an escort and sometimes
a nude model?” Alex considers Chris again and
nods. “I suppose you might have been a failed actor.
Been in anything good?”
Chris narrows his eyes. “I modelled for catalogues
of children’s clothes and some TV commercials. I
acted in films and TV dramas as well. You know, the
nameless-school-kid, teenage-friend kind of roles.
It’s been a while. And I didn’t fail, all right? I grew
up!”
Alex gazes at Chris as he considers the last part of
his comment. “You were a child actor?”
Chris nods.
It makes sense, since what career options are
open to a child actor and model when they retire?
What does a former boxing champion do to make a
living?
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“Boy band?”
Chris’s stare could fell a lesser man. “Do I look
like I dance and sing to order?”
“I guess not.”
As Alex digests the new piece of information
about his flatmate, Chris jumps down from his
stool, ready to tackle a couple coming towards Alex.
“Alex Whale?” the man asks.
When Alex doesn’t reply, the imposter pulls out
his phone and tries to snap. Alex hides his face
again but Chris is ready to defend him. Without
hesitation, he positions himself between the couple
and Alex and blocks the man’s phone camera.
“I’ll have to call for my back-up if you don’t step
away right now.”
“Uh. I’m sorry. We want to take a photo with him.
That’s all.” The man addresses Chris instead of Alex,
with much confusion in his face.
Chris answers with the utmost professionalism.
“I’m not authorised to allow photography.”
“Really?” The man regards Chris, then he turns to
Alex. “No wonder they say you’re a cocky bastard.”
His partner pulls his arm, wanting to get away
from the confrontation.
Alex continues to stare ahead, ignoring the
couple. He has to mask his panic as blood rushes to
his head and his throat goes dry. Keep your head
