by A. F. Henley
August took a deep breath and was just about to stand when Doren hopped back in the bus. He walked up a step and leaned against the railing. They looked at each other for a long time, but it was Doren who broke the pause. "So are you coming?"
It was now or never. Tell Doren to pound off and go home, a couple of hundred bucks lighter from the return bus fare, or take the bull by the horns and tough it out. After all, what had he been expecting? Doren was in the throes of becoming the 'Next Big Thing' and people had been treating him like he was made of gold for months now. The young ones worshipped him, the rest wanted to fuck him, and anyone with an ounce of ability wanted to cash in on him.
And what was it that his mother used to tell him? When he was lamenting a relationship or lack thereof with what he'd thought had been his next Mr. Right? That all men were just boys with a few extra inches, including him, his father and her own dad. Now if only he could remember whether her advice had been to kill that with kindness … or not spare the rod.
Doren lifted his eyebrows, questioning August's lack of response, and finally followed with his hands.
August shook his head and stood. "Of course I am. Let's get this show on the road."
Doren
It was official. August hated him. Doren had seen it written all over August's face while August sat in the bus trying to figure out if he was going to run for his life or not. August hadn't needed to say that's what he'd been thinking. An infant could have figured it out by expression and body language alone. For a few moments Doren had considered handing the pouting man a bus schedule with a wave and a smile. "Just get the fuck out of here then," he'd heard himself say. "I don't need this from you."
Who the fuck did August think he was anyway? Last time Doren had checked, August was the assistant and he was the boss. So why was he the one tossing and turning instead of sleeping? Why was he the one who felt like a big bag of shit?
"Because I'm an idiot, that's why," Doren grumbled into his pillow. A smart man would walk down to the lobby and "accidentally" let himself get seen by a handful of groupies, bring them back up to his room, and fuck each one of them until he finally fell asleep. "No," he corrected himself aloud. "Fuck all of them." At once.
He flipped on to his side and slammed the mattress in frustration, staring at the door that separated their hotel rooms. It was locked, from August's side; Doren had checked when he came in. The memory of that moment had Doren rolling his eyes at the darkened ceiling. Okay, he got it. August was going to play the part of the demure, righteous assistant and he was supposed to be the dashing, daring wild-boy that would tempt him. He snorted out loud, convincing himself it was in distaste and not frustration. After all, Doren got what he wanted. And if Doren really wanted August, then he'd have him.
He stared at the sealed door, a mere eight steps away from where he rested. And why, oh why, did his brain keep whining the mantra that it wasn't fair to be so frustratingly close and yet so far away. Twice. He'd met August twice. August was nothing special. Attractive, sure, in a cute boyish kind of way. But that was it, nothing more than that: just another face in the crowd, another cock, a hole that could be filled. There were hundreds of them around.
He flipped again, on to his back, and focused on the ceiling, trying desperately to listen for the music. In twenty-four years of conscious memory Doren had been able to find it without effort. Not at the moment though; he was too distracted. He hadn't been able to pull a single note from anything.
With a snarl and a fling, Doren threw the sheet off him and sat up. This was stupid. He was going for a walk.
He's a Magic
Man
August
He woke to knocking and fumbled for his cell phone. If the lack of lighting in the room was an actual indication of time, someone was going to die. August wasn't sure if he actually spoke the words "It's not even six a.m. yet!" or just thought them loud enough that it seemed like it.
"Auggie? Auggie!" Knock, knock, knock; bang, bang, bang and August frowned in bitter annoyance. If that kept up they were going to be kicked out of the hotel only hours after they'd arrived.
He gritted his teeth and got out of bed, opening the door with exaggerated aggravation. "One," he growled at Doren's grin, "I warned you about calling me Auggie. And two, if you have any fondness whatsoever for your testicles, this better be important."
Doren's smile grew, his eyes sweeping August from top to bottom. "Nice jammies."
August lifted an eyebrow. "What is it, Doren?"
"Come with me," Doren gushed, all excitement and teeth and grabby hands. "I need to show you something."
"It is six in the morning."
Doren's only reply was to snag August's hand and yank him into the hall.
"I thought music people didn't get up this early," August grumped.
Doren turned and winked. "I haven't been to bed yet."
As August was pulled down the hall he rolled his eyes. This had better not be the start of a nasty habit. He liked his sleep. And if Doren was going to be a midnight rover, then Doren better be happy doing it alone. August was pretty sure there was nothing in their agreement that said he had to join his boss on early morning escapades.
"Where are we going? I need a robe or something. I can't wander the halls like this." Doren might have been fully dressed but he was still in pajama pants and a t-shirt, his feet bare. And the hallway was freezing compared to the warm bed.
He hissed at the tile on the stairs and stopped. "Cold! I need shoes. Or socks. Or something—" His arm was yanked, his words disregarded, and August was forced to follow, muttering grumpily, waiting at the heavy door to the lobby while Doren poked his head out.
"Okay," Doren whispered, grinning like a twelve-year-old playing hooky. "All clear, come on."
"We can't go in there," August said when they reached the far end of the hall, suspiciously eyeing the sign on the door that Doren reached for. "The sign says it's closed until seven."
Doren waved him off. "I go where I want." Then he turned to flash another smile. "This is so cool! Just wait until you see it."
There was no other word August could come up with but "Wow!" He stood in awe, staring around at what he was sure was one of the most enchanting spaces he'd seen in his life: concrete walls painted with images of robe-clad bathers and flitting cupids, clouds, flowers and birds. An alluring mist drifted along the surface of a crystalline pool. "It looks like one of those Roman bathhouses. What is it?"
Doren smiled, flicking one of the light switches, and the pool was suddenly illuminated from under the water. "I knew you'd like it. It's a salt-water pool. Neat, hunh?"
"Yes, actually. What makes the water all misty like that?"
"It's heated." Doren's eyes fell to the front of August's pants, smirking. "And as we can both see the room is chilly. So, voila. Fog."
August's cheeks flushed; he crossed his arms and shifted self-consciously. "Mist," he corrected. "Not fog. And you're a pig."
Doren shrugged. "Nah, just a man. One would think you'd understand. Come on." Before August could stop him, Doren popped open his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them while he pulled off his top.
Once again August found himself struggling for something more than the "holy crap" that took up every single thought process in his mind. August's face began to burn. Without a word Doren turned, naked as they day he'd been born, and dove into the pool. Water broke to grant him entry, his body illuminated by the underwater lighting, and God but he was beautiful. August had never seen anyone quite like him. Not that he'd spent a lot of time with actual in-your-face naked men. But he'd seen enough porn to know that Doren's body was one of the good ones.
Doren popped through the surface of the pool, shaking water out of his dark hair. "You coming?"
"Uh, no? I didn't bring a suit."
"So?" August wasn't sure whether to take Doren's lifted eyebrow as smug or confused. "Neither did I."
August glared and pursed
his lips. "Forget it."
Doren shrugged and leaned back in the water, floating on the surface. "Come in like that then."
The pool did look inviting. And it was pretty cold standing there on the concrete floor. "What if we get caught?"
"Come on, Auggie!" Doren patted the water beside him. "Don't be a suck. When will you ever get to experience something like this again? Besides, what if I start to drown or something? I'll need you to save me." He righted himself and walked towards the edge of the pool, reaching teasingly for August's ankles. "Don't make me come get you."
August cast his eyes around the room, unsure. No one was around. But what if someone came in? Did he have anything to lose other than some soggy clothes? Would they get in trouble? He hovered at the edge of the pool, gingerly testing the water with his foot. "Don't pull me in, okay?"
Doren laughed and before August realized what Doren was doing, he'd grabbed the ankle he'd been threatening and gave a good, solid tug. There was no recovering from it. Attempting grace, failing miserably, August tried to twist into a dive but managed no more than shutting eyes and mouth before he was struggling back to the surface, breaking clear with an angry sputter.
"Don't tell me what to do," Doren said, his voice low and amused. Then he was gone, twisting like a fish and disappearing into the foggy water.
As much as August was ready to kill, he had to admit it was a pretty cool sensation: the warm water, buoyant from the salt, seeming to whisper at him to drop back down into the brine and enjoy the heat, to dip into the swirling mass over the surface. It was a lure August chose not to resist. Doren was floating again with his eyes closed and a lazy smile lifting the corners of his mouth and August followed suit, sighing as quietly as he could manage, lying back and relaxing sleepily in the womb-like aura.
The room was silent but for the echoed swish of moving water and the constant drip of resettling droplets until Doren began to hum: a soft, murmuring chord that filled the room and echoed against the walls, bouncing back to weave together with the new tones coming again. August thought he could place it and yet, when he tried, it seemed to slip away from him. It was like one of those songs from way back in childhood, or in a dream somewhere along the way, but that he hadn't heard for a long, long time since. He listened for a moment, letting the notes sink their way into the depths of his memory before curiosity got the better of him. "What is that? What are you singing?"
"You don't know it?"
The much cooler air pricked August's skin with exhilarating goose bumps while the warm, light water teased around the rest of his body. It was an odd, not entirely pleasant, not entirely negative, sensation. "No. Maybe. It's familiar. Tell me?"
Without opening his eyes, Doren reached for August, his hand trailing through the water, searching, waving, but August didn't let Doren make contact. "Would you believe me if I told you?"
It seemed as though the sounds of the room had faded into one note: a dreamy, pick-you-up-and-take-you-away kind of chord. It had to be the pool, the weird, floaty feeling of the salt-water and the strange warm-yet-cold sensation of the pool versus the air. Because August was starting to feel a little disconnected from the floor underneath him and more than a bit lightheaded. "Of course, why wouldn't I believe you?"
Doren opened his eyes, caught August's gaze and held it. "It's the water, Auggie. This is the music that the water makes. Listen close, maybe you can hear it." He started to hum again and the music slipped around them, as if in time with the swirling water. When Doren spoke again his voice was quiet. "You remember, right? When you were a kid? You'd slide under the water in the tub and listen to that soft thrum, thrum, thrum. And the way the water sounded when it moved: that shish, swish, shish. Can you hear it, Aug?"
And damned but if his memory wasn't tingling with the all but forgotten feeling of it.
"Give me your hand," Doren murmured. "Give me your hand and I'll show you."
August wasn't sure if he reached consciously for Doren. Truthfully, he was almost sure he didn't. It was like something inside him reached out instead. Their fingers touched and a small flash of electricity pulsed through August's blood. And then the softest sound he had ever tried to define slipped into his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to find it, trying to hear it. No, August decided, it wasn't there at all. He'd just been imagining it. Or … perhaps … their hands, their fingers were barely touching … maybe if August slipped their hands all the way together he would hear more …
And suddenly everything was distorted by a loud bang as the door to the pool slammed open and the room filled with the busy chatter of children.
August yanked his hand away and Doren disappeared under the water with a splash. He turned towards two preteens, skinny bodies clad in tight swimwear, preparing a space with towels and pop cans and an iPod, getting an early start on the day before the older folks got there and hushed them into controlled silence. August grimaced when he saw Doren's clothing in a pile almost right beside the kids' developing nest. As quietly as he could manage, August swam to the other side of the pool and pulled himself from the water, dripping, instantly cold. He grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around his middle, squeezing the water from his hair and had to choke back at laugh when Doren's head popped out of the water only inches away. "A little help here?"
As though on swivels, both of the young girls turned their heads in the direction of his voice. August groaned, his mind desperately repeating, "Please don't recognize his voice, please." He hushed Doren with a finger, the headlines already floating through his mind: Rock star exposes himself to twelve-year-old girls in hotel; parents mortified, children traumatized, public in hysterics! He could walk over and get Doren's clothes, but that would probably end up drawing more attention. Instead, he tightened the towel at his waist and peeled his soaking pajama pants off.
"Here." August thrust the pants under the surface of the water. "Be quick. And be quiet." Doren held the patterned flannel up, disdain and disbelief darkening his face. "Just do it!" August hissed.
Short of another towel, Doren had no other options. With a disgusted click of his tongue, he reached into the water and struggled into the pants. He was slim, which helped, but nowhere near as small as August was. The pants were still way too tight and all August could think of was stuffed sausage as Doren climbed his way out of the pool. August couldn't help himself, he laughed as he wrapped a towel around Doren and the soaked cloth. Doren flashed him a look of murder, which only made August laugh again. "Come on. Let's get out of here before you're seen. Leave your clothes, I'll get them later."
It was August's turn to pull Doren to the door, but when they reached it, Doren stopped. He looked at August, and then turned back to the pool where both girls suddenly spun in his direction. He flashed them a smile and a wink, and, exasperated, August dragged Doren into the hall as the excited peals of joy and disbelief began to bounce around the walls of the poolroom.
Doren
He still couldn't believe the two of them been in the poolroom for over an hour. It felt like minutes, seconds. He sat in August's hotel room as August made coffee in the little four-cup machine that came with the room. Doren had changed into the hotel robe; his hair drying into crazy peaks while he watched August bustle around the teeny space of the "kitchen" area and mused silently over how much smaller August's room was than his. Weird, considering they were right beside each other, but perhaps that's how it had been designed back in the day. Maybe the rooms were meant to house someone important who would be traveling with someone unimportant. Not that he thought August was, by any means. A good assistant was worth their weight in gold and all … or whatever the hell Anton had told him. And if August had managed to capture his attention while standing in that god-awful navy polyester blend, then August was certainly worth having around if for nothing more than entertainment value. Besides, watching August hustle down the hall with nothing but his wet shirt clinging to his cold chest and the towel around his waist had certainly b
een far more that just entertaining. Especially knowing that thin bit of terrycloth was held on by nothing more than a twist and tuck of the fabric.
August handed him a coffee, tossing a package of sugar and powdered milk alongside and sat down hard. A question burned behind his lips, Doren could see it as clear as if it was written in magic marker on August's skin. "What's the matter, Aug? Something bothering you?"
Pink lips were pursed as August drew his cheek between his teeth. "What are you doing, Doren? What's your game?"
Doren looked back, innocence and shocked disbelief all over his face. "What do you mean?"
August nodded at the door between their rooms. "You have your own room. Why are you here in mine?"
Steam drifted up to mask Doren's smile as he blew on the coffee. "So you could make coffee, of course. I was freezing to death."
"You don't have coffee in your room?"
"But then I would have had to make it myself."
"You could have called room service."
Doren raised his eyebrows and waved at the room. "What? And miss all this stimulating conversation?" He didn't give August a chance to reply. He stood and walked over to the small television, turning it on and flipping until he came to the music stations, scrolling further until he found some classic rock. He selected it, and the room filled with the lusty sounds of Prince. "Ah," Doren said. "That's better! Nothing like a good shot of Prince to start the day, hmm?"
There was no smile on August's face when Doren looked up from the screen. He sighed heavily and set the cup down with a clunk. "Do you want me to leave? Because if you do, just fucking say so."
August clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "No, of course not. I'm just trying to understand what's going on. Are you playing with me?"
