by J. M. Snyder
Alex took another step closer to the bed. “It’s early,” he admitted. “I just want to know—did someone call last night?”
“No,” Dave growled, shaking his head for emphasis.
Damn it. Alex bit his lower lip and sighed. “Was there a message on the machine or anything?”
A feminine hand tugged the covers back a little, exposing a mess of dark hair and black kohl-rimmed eyes that stared up at Alex balefully. “No,” Dave said again. “No one called, Alex. Let me sleep.”
“Sorry,” Alex mumbled. Dave covered his head with his pillow as Alex backed out of the room. “I was just hoping—”
“No one called.” Dave’s voice was muffled, and the girl beside him sighed shakily as Alex closed the door. No one called…
Jamie, where the hell are you? Alex thought again about calling the shelter but it was still too early. He’d wait until his lunch hour—if Jamie didn’t call him by noon, then he’d call the shelter. He’d wait until then.
* * * *
The morning dragged on until Alex thought the clock would never read twelve. When it was close enough, he clicked on his cell phone as he left the sound booth, the number to the shelter already programmed into the phone’s memory. He stood in the hall between the recording studio and the lobby and listened to the rings. Come on, he pleaded, wishing someone would answer already. Jamie, or one of the volunteers, someone…“St. Catherine’s—”
“Father Nate,” Alex sighed, relieved. “It’s me, Alex. Jamie there?”
“Not yet,” the priest replied.
Fuck. “Where is he?” Alex hated the desperate sound in his own voice but he couldn’t deny that he was getting worried.
Getting there? a part of him laughed. You’ve been worried since you called yesterday. Admit it, you don’t want to think about him with someone else. You don’t want to think about him dancing the night away, getting drunk and getting laid when you want him with you. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m just concerned—”
“I know,” Father Nate said gently. “He does this, Alex. Goes out and has a good time and forgets where he lives for a little while. But eventually he’ll come back. He always does.”
Alex leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. The tile was cool through his thin T-shirt, and he wondered just how implausible it would be to take the rest of the day off and drive around the seedier parts of town looking for Jamie. “I hate this,” he whispered. He didn’t want to admit it, but he did. “I hate not knowing where he is. I hate that he’s out there doing stuff he probably shouldn’t be doing. I hate that I can’t help him.”
“I know,” the priest said again. “Believe me, Alex, I know. It’s frustrating at times, all these bright children, all these wonderful souls tamped down like crushed cigarettes, smothered by people who don’t want them or who only want to hurt them. And it hurts to know there’s only so much either of us can do. You can’t force him to see that what he’s doing is wrong. You can only show him there’s another way and hope he realizes it himself.”
Alex sighed. “He’s mad at me,” he said softly. “I don’t know why, but I should’ve called him the other night. I should’ve told him I was sorry again. Maybe—”
“Don’t do this,” Father Nate said sternly. “It’s not your fault. Boys like Jamie, you can spend your whole life apologizing and it’ll never be enough.”
“He didn’t want me to leave,” Alex whispered. “I could’ve stayed another hour. I could’ve called him earlier yesterday, caught him before he left.”
Through the phone, the priest sounded tired and weary. “Alex. Stop it. You can talk about what you could have done all day long, but it won’t make him come back any sooner. He’s just scared. For the first time someone’s being nice to him without wanting something in return and it terrifies the hell out of him. Just give him some time, please. Be there for him and he’ll come around, I know he will.”
Give him some time… Alex wondered how Jamie needed. What did he do in those clubs? Sex, drugs, alcohol…enough shit like that and he won’t have any time left. I’ll be waiting to help him and he’ll be too far gone, overdose one night or get shot or die of AIDS, and I’ll be left wondering just how much time was too much. How long is too long to wait?
“Tell him to call me the minute he gets in,” Alex said, giving Father Nate the number to his cell phone. “Tell him I expect a call today.”
By two Alex’s phone hadn’t rung, and he told Saundra he couldn’t stay at the studio any longer. “I have to go,” he said. He didn’t even bother thinking up a lame excuse. He just had to leave.
Saundra waved at him, distracted, as she hunched over the control panel, fading in the next commercial. “See ya,” she muttered. Alex nodded and left.
He reached St. Catherine’s, his phone still silent. He could only think the worse, so he just stopped at the curb, ignoring the yellow paint on the sidewalk and the No Parking sign as he climbed out of the car. He took the steps two at a time and threw open the door to the shelter, squinting as his eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight outside to the darkened interior. “Nate,” he called, spotting the priest with a bunch of younger children, watching cartoons on a wide-screen TV.
Father Nate glanced up at him and frowned. “He just came in,” he said, gingerly extracting himself from the group of children on the floor. He lowered his voice as he led Alex to the back of the shelter, where the sleeping quarters were located. “I told him you called and he just shrugged. I gave him your number and I think he threw it away.” Alex felt his throat close up, but the priest hurried on. “He’s scared; I told you that. He’s just doing this to prove to himself that he doesn’t need you, but he’s wrong.”
Alex followed Father Nate down a short hall lined with doors. Each door had a curtained window cut into it, and taped on the wall to one side were names in neatly penned script, names of the kids who slept there. A few doors were open, and Alex could see two narrow beds inside each room, small desks between them, and a tiny window above that let the sunlight in. The rooms were cramped, the beds metal frames with creaking springs, their sheets threadbare and the blankets scratchy. Not a room to call one’s own.
The thought of Jamie lying on such a bed made Alex want to take him home, where his bed was large enough for the both of them, the blankets thick, the sheets crisp. He deserves that, but he threw away my number so maybe he doesn’t even want to talk to me anymore. In an anxious voice, he asked, “He doesn’t want to see me?”
Father Nate placed a comforting hand on Alex’s shoulder. “The fact that you’re here when I didn’t even call you proves he’s wrong. Go talk to him.” He pointed at a closed door halfway down the hall.
Alex stepped up to the door, suddenly nervous. The curtain was pulled shut across the window, hiding the room from view, so he knocked gently. When no one answered, he ventured, “Jamie?”
“Go away,” came the sullen reply.
Alex sighed again. This isn’t going to work. “Can I come in?”
“What the fuck for?”
It was definitely Jamie’s voice, and the fact that it sounded angry and hurt made Alex ache to promise everything would be okay. If only he’d let me in…
“Please?” Alex asked.
For a moment he didn’t think Jamie would respond. Then he thought maybe the silence was a response, and Jamie wasn’t going to talk to him again. He glanced around but the hall was empty, Father Nate having returned to his cartoons. Finally he heard a soft sigh through the closed door and Jamie muttered, “It’s not locked.”
Alex pushed the door open and stepped into the room. It was stifling from the afternoon sun. The small window above the desks was open and the sounds from the street leaked inside, faded and distant. Jamie lay on one bed, no shirt on and jeans unzipped, the boxers unbuttoned beneath the denim. Alex could see the bright hint of red hair curl around the fabric and now the room was too hot, Jamie’s scent sharp between them as he stared at the ceiling an
d ignored Alex. “Hey,” Alex said softly, closing the door behind him.
“Leave it open,” Jamie replied. When Alex didn’t move, he shifted his gaze to look at him and frowned. “Nate says keep it open when we have visitors. House rules.”
Alex smiled faintly as he opened the door. Thank you, Father Nate, he thought as a cool breeze swirled into the room from the air-conditioned hall. Pulling out the chair at Jamie’s desk, Alex sat down and studied his friend. Jamie’s curls were damp and his skin had that smooth look like he’d just come out of the shower recently. Alex found his gaze drawn to the dark patch at Jamie’s crotch, where just a thin stretch of material hid the rest of him from view. He wondered what that soft hair would feel like entwined in his fingers—he could almost hear the scrape of his nails along that hidden skin, and with the door closed it would be like a furnace, the bed would creak beneath them, their hair would drip with sweat and they’d pant in each others’ arms after they came, exhausted and so damn hot…
He forced the image from his mind. “I called you yesterday.”
“I wasn’t here.” Jamie stared at the wall and refused to look at Alex.
“Where’d you go?” Alex wanted to know. Jamie shrugged. “You didn’t call me back.” Jamie shrugged again. “Saundra says you can come to the studio,” he tried one last time. “If you want.”
“Who’s Saundra?” Jamie asked. “Your girlfriend?”
Alex shook his head, a gesture Jamie didn’t see. “My supervisor,” he replied. When Jamie didn’t say anything else, he sighed. “I was worried—”
“Why?” Jamie asked, and now he turned towards Alex, glaring at him. “What do you care?”
Anger flared through him. “You know, Owens,” he said, standing, “fine. You think you’re not hurting anyone when you disappear like that? I waited for you to call me back. I waited all night. I fell asleep waiting, and this afternoon I couldn’t wait any longer, so I left work and came here looking for you.”
Jamie’s eyes widened at that.
Alex shoved the chair back beneath the desk and stopped at the doorway. “Why? I don’t know, Jamie. I don’t fucking know anymore.” He looked at Jamie, watching him closely, and suddenly he felt empty and drained and used. “Goodbye.”
He slammed the door to Jamie’s room as he left.
Chapter 8
He leaned against the wall and waited. Come on, he thought, staring at the floor where the sunlight peeked out from under the closed door. I pissed you off, Jamie, and you’re not the type to take that shit lying down, so get off your ass and storm out here after me. Prove to me that Nate was right. Prove to me that you need me.
Suddenly the door opened. Alex stepped forward, arms crossed, directly into Jamie’s path, even as the guy called out his name. “Alex—”
Jamie bumped into him and staggered back, his hand still on the doorknob. Alex watched the emotions war on his face—anger, disgust, joy, relief. Then he frowned, the glare back in his eyes that creased his brow and made his lips pout just slightly. “I thought you left.”
“I thought I did, too,” Alex replied.
Jamie looked past him into the hall but they were alone. Studying the smooth muscles, so close that he could just uncross his arms and feel the soft skin in his hands, firm beneath his palms, Alex thought maybe Jamie needed something more than this place tonight. Who wouldn’t run from here? he mused, raising his gaze to meet Jamie’s steady stare. If this is all he has, why wouldn’t he try to lose himself in the clubs and the alcohol and the boys? “Get dressed,” Alex said gently.
Jamie zipped up his pants, hiding the dark shadows that hinted at something more. “Where are we going?” he asked, stepping back so Alex could come back into the room.
Alex sat on the edge of Jamie’s bed and watched him pull out a cut-off T-shirt from one of the desk drawers. “Out,” he said simply. When Jamie tugged the shirt on over his head, Alex sighed. The shirt stopped just above Jamie’s navel, and Alex couldn’t stop staring at his bare midriff, the freckles that dotted his skin, the jeans hanging slightly off his hips. “Jesus.”
Tying an old bandanna around his curls, Jamie grinned. “You like?” he asked, stepping closer. With his hands securing the bandanna behind his head, his arms were raised enough that Alex could look up the short shirt and…
Stop it, his mind warned as he tried to look away from the dark skin of Jamie’s nipples, erect where they brushed against the shirt, but he couldn’t. Stop it right now, he can read you like a book, he sees how much you want him—placing his hands on Alex’s knees, Jamie squatted down in front of him, easing his legs apart. “We can be quick,” he said with a wink. “Please, Alex? I’m good.”
Alex stood up quickly, knocking Jamie’s hands away, but his thighs still burned from the touch. “I’m sure you are,” he said, clearing his throat. Jamie stared up at him, that pout back on his lips, and Alex dared to take his arm, helping him stand. “Jamie, I don’t want…” He sighed. “No.”
“You don’t want me to?” Jamie asked, confused.
“I’m not here for that,” Alex tried again. Remember, he told himself, he’s starving for attention and maybe this is one of the only ways he knows how to get it. He’s only offering because that’s what he thinks you want.
Looking at him, his skin so warm in his hand, Alex added silently, And maybe that is what I want, but not just right now, not just one time, and not because he feels he has to do it.
“We’re friends, Jamie. No sex. Do you have any other friends like that? Guys you know but don’t fool around with?”
Slowly Jamie shook his head. Alex’s arms ached to hold him, his heart threatened to burst at the sadness he saw in those deep sea eyes, and he wanted to kiss Jamie until that hurt and pain went away.
* * * *
In the car Jamie slumped down in the passenger seat and frowned out the window. “Where are we going?”
Alex shrugged. “Where do you want to go?”
Jamie leaned his head against the window and sighed. “Anywhere but here.”
With a forced smile Alex placed his hand on top of Jamie’s where it rested on the parking brake. When Jamie turned his hand over and curled his fingers around Alex’s own, he didn’t pull away. Instead he squeezed Jamie’s hand reassuringly. “Where did you go last night?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jamie replied.
Alex frowned as he guided the car around a sharp curve with one hand, reluctant to let go of Jamie. “Why not?”
“Because you’ll think I’m bad,” Jamie whispered, his fingers tightening around Alex’s. “I don’t want you to think that.”
“I won’t think that about you,” Alex promised.
The radio filled the silence between them until Alex thought Jamie wasn’t going to say anything else, and he’d just let it go. He didn’t really want to hear about the guy’s nightly antics, not when he wanted to be the one Jamie laughed with, the one he loved. Was it so bad to feel that selfish? To want to keep Jamie safe and show him the world was a better place than he thought it was?
But in a small voice, Jamie told him anyway. “I went to the club with my boys.”
My boys. The words stung more than Alex thought they would. “Your boyfriend?” he prompted, telling himself he’d listen because Jamie needed someone and didn’t he say he didn’t want more than to just be his friend? No sex…your own words, he reminded himself. Why did he have to go and say it like that? So final, with no room for doubt.
But Jamie shook his head. “They aren’t boyfriends. Just guys I know.”
“Guys you have sex with?” Alex asked softly.
Jamie laughed. “I don’t fuck them, if that’s what you’re asking. A blowjob isn’t sex—it’s just some guy sucking on your dick, that’s it. Mutual masturbation.”
Alex thought of Jamie, hard and moaning his name as he went down on the nameless guy, and he hoped Jamie didn’t notice how slick his palm suddenly grew. “You do this at the club,” Al
ex said, trying to keep his voice even.
Jamie shrugged. “It’s a way to get off,” he admitted. “Lots of shit goes down in those places. No one says anything.” When Alex turned down a narrow side street, away from the city traffic, Jamie stared at the older buildings and asked, “Where are we going again?”
“I thought I’d show you my apartment,” Alex said. “Give you a good, home cooked meal, spend some quality time watching TV…what do you think?”
There was no response. He glanced over to see Jamie lean against the window, one solitary tear like rain streaking the cheek of his reflection. “Jamie?” he asked, concerned.
“I’m sorry I missed your call,” Jamie whispered. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffled loudly. “I…” He sighed. “I thought about you all last night and I just want you to know…I thought about you, Alex.”
I thought about you…when was that? Alex wanted to ask. When he went down on you? When you came? When you thrust into his mouth, or when you returned the favor? But he kept those thoughts to himself. Aloud, he started, “Jamie—”
Quietly Jamie said, “I don’t kiss them. I have to keep something for myself, you know? Something that’s just me. I have to save it for whoever it is I’m going to fall in love with. I’ll give my kisses to him. To only him.”
At least that’s something.
* * * *
“Who’s this?” Jamie asked, picking up a frame from the top of the entertainment center. The minute they entered Alex’s small apartment, Jamie headed for the photographs, studying them intently. They were mostly Dave’s pictures from graduation—Alex suspected that part of his friend still didn’t believe he had finally made it out of high school, and that’s why he kept the pictures on display.
Alex glanced over Jamie’s shoulder, ignoring the clean scent that rose from Jamie’s neck. He wanted to bury his nose against that soft flesh and breathe in deep, but he wouldn’t let himself. Instead he pointed at the picture and said, “This is Dave. My roommate.”
“Your boyfriend?” Jamie asked, frowning. “He’s kind of hairy.”
