Burden

by K. C. Wells

  Jesse had just gone into a room down the hall.

  Randy’s heart pounded. He was sure Jesse hadn’t seen him. As for what he was doing there, Randy didn’t need to be a genius to work that out. He crept quietly past the door and along to the elevator. No sound emerged from the room. When the elevator arrived, Randy got in and went down to the lobby, out of the hotel, and across the street to the Starbucks. He grabbed a coffee and sat at a table in the window, giving himself a clear view of the hotel. Randy noted the time, then sipped his coffee and waited, feeling sick to his stomach.

  An hour later, Jesse emerged from the hotel and turned left.

  Dammit. Randy hated being right.

  He waited a moment, then left Starbucks and followed him, making sure to keep to a safe distance. The last thing he wanted was for Jesse to spot him. Trailing him like that felt… wrong, but Randy had to know for sure.

  Jesse walked about ten blocks, then turned onto West Forty-Second Street, and not long after, disappeared into an apartment building.

  Randy’s heart sank. Fuck. He knew the place. It had once been a hotel, but had since been turned into an apartment building, one that was frequented by a lot of hookers. Not the kinda of place worth busting—plenty of guys lived there, but didn’t bring their johns home. Randy could understand that. Too risky if a trick went tits-up and they were suddenly dealing with a crazy. No one wanted that turning up on your doorstep.

  He crossed the street and waited under the scaffolding that covered the front of the building, his gaze locked on the entrance Jesse had used. A short while later, Jesse emerged in different clothing and started walking along the street. Randy watched from a distance, until he saw him go into a coffee shop. He hurried along the street and stopped at the edge of the coffee shop, peering inside. Jesse was sitting at a table, staring at his phone. Five minutes later, a guy turned up who made straight for Jesse. From the way they greeted each other, it was obvious they weren’t strangers.

  Randy breathed a little easier. He’s just meeting a friend. Then the friend got up and headed for the restroom at the rear. Less than a minute later, Jesse followed him.

  Five minutes passed.

  Ten minutes.

  Randy kept checking his watch, his heart plummeting with every passing minute. When the friend came out first, Jesse following after a minute, Randy’s mind got to working. How many arrests had he made in restrooms in the past? Sure, sometimes it was just a couple of horny guys, but there had been occasions when money changed hands.

  Maybe this was all aboveboard. Maybe they’d just been talking. But in the restroom?

  Randy ducked out of sight as Jesse left the coffee shop, thankfully crossing the street and heading toward Ninth Avenue. Randy didn’t follow. He needed to think.

  I could have this all wrong. Except the hotel incident was leading him down another path. Suspecting was one thing—knowing for sure was something else. And where does that leave me? Randy knew what he should do. That was a no-brainer.

  I need to talk to him. I need to ask him straight. Except he didn’t want to do that, for fear he wouldn’t like the answer. Especially if that answer meant he should arrest his friend for soliciting.

  Whether he was going to arrest Jesse was another matter.

  Randy was a mess. His body felt heavy as fuck, and his chest was tight. He couldn’t focus. I don’t know what to do. Only, that was a lie. He did know what to do—he just didn’t want to do it.

  Three days previously, he’d felt on top of the world. Spending the Fourth with Jesse had been the best day ever.

  Now?

  He was conflicted as hell.

  RANDY SLOWLY climbed the stairs, with no enthusiasm for the coming evening. All through the day, his mind had defaulted to Jesse, and yet he was still no nearer to working out what to do about the situation. Several times that afternoon, he’d been at the point of messaging Jesse to ask him to meet up for a coffee at the end of the day, but each time he’d chickened out.

  He didn’t want it to be true.

  As he reached his floor, footsteps sounded behind him. “Wait up!”

  Randy paused, his hand on the rail, and lingered for Owen to catch up.

  Owen was grinning like a lunatic. “Good evening!”

  “I’m glad someone’s happy,” Randy murmured, continuing toward his front door.

  Owen stopped him with a hand to Randy’s arm. He frowned. “Well, you’re obviously not. Which is a pity, because I was about to invite you in for a drink to help me celebrate.”

  “Celebrate what?”

  Owen beamed. “You know the clinic where I’m working? How it’s been a temporary post for the last six months, as I was covering for a long-term absence? Well, I found out this morning the psychologist concerned has decided to call it quits, and they’ve offered me a permanent position.”

  Randy couldn’t remain down in the face of such elation. “That’s great news,” he said sincerely.

  “So will you? Come in for a celebratory drink? I’m sure I’ve got at least one bottle of something fizzy in my refrigerator.” Owen batted his eyelashes. “Pretty please?”

  Randy laughed. “You’re a goof.”

  Owen’s eyes lit up. “And that’s a yes, if ever I heard one.” He opened his front door and waited.

  Randy shook his head, chuckling. “Fine. One drink.” He reasoned Owen was just the distraction he needed right then. He stepped into Owen’s apartment and went into the living room.

  Owen marched over to the refrigerator and yanked open the door. “Now, please let there be a bottle of champagne or prosecco or something in here.” He let out a little triumphant cry and pulled out a bottle of prosecco. “Perfect!” He thrust the bottle into Randy’s hands. “You open that. I’ll get the glasses.”

  Randy laughed. “You know, you’re even bossier when you’re in a good mood.” He tore off the foil and began twisting the bottle carefully.

  Owen reached into the cabinet and removed two long glasses. “And speaking of good moods, what’s happened to yours? When I saw you on Tuesday, you looked like you’d won the lottery. What happened?”

  Randy gave the bottle one last twist, and the cork popped out. Owen held both glasses while he poured, and then they both sat on the couch. “First things first. Congratulations. That’s wonderful news.”

  Owen smiled broadly. “Yes, it is. I hated the fact that my job was up in the air, so to speak. I feel a lot more secure now. At my age that really matters.” He peered at Randy. “And now tell me what’s wrong.”

  Randy took a sip of the sparkling liquid. “My job just got a lot more complicated, that’s all.”

  Owen snickered. “With you, everything is always complicated.”

  Randy took another drink, then told him about Jesse, how they’d met, and what he’d suspected, before moving on to the morning’s incident. He left out the two concerts. That would only add fuel to Owen’s already fertile imagination.

  Owen frowned. “Maybe I’m being a little dense, but I don’t see the problem here. Either he’s soliciting, in which case you arrest him, or you’ve got it wrong and it’s all totally innocent.”

  Yeah, like it was that easy.

  “Okay, why are you hesitating?” Owen cocked his head to one side. “What is it with this Jesse?”

  Randy couldn’t answer. Randy didn’t dare answer.

  Except he’d forgotten about Owen’s powers of observation—again.

  Owen’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. Oh. It’s like that, is it?”

  There seemed little point in hiding the truth any longer. “Okay, so… yeah, I’m interested in him.”

  “Aha. The mystery guy.”

  Randy shook his head. “And before you get carried away, nothing is gonna happen between me and Jesse. Nothing ever could.” It was all such a fucking mess.

  Owen remained silent for a moment, sipping his prosecco. Finally he met Randy’s gaze. “If I may make a suggestion? What you need right now is a distr
action.”

  “And you provided it.” Randy raised his glass. “For which I’m grateful.”

  Owen smiled, his eyes sparkling. “Not exactly the distraction I had in mind.”

  Oh God. “Why do I get the feeling this is not going to end well?”

  Owen ran a finger around the rim of his glass. “A couple of friends of mine have invited me to a party Friday night. I thought you might want to come with me.”

  Randy blinked. “A party?” Then he grew aware of the knot in his belly. “What kind of party?”

  Owen gave a casual shrug. “Just a gathering of men. Who all happen to be gay or bi. And… it’s the kind of party where ‘things’ might occur.” He air-quoted.

  Randy’s breathing quickened. “What kind of things?”

  “Nothing you wouldn’t have seen in the Black Lounge, I assure you.”

  He snorted. “That’s not saying much. I saw a lot.”

  Owen smiled. “I’m sure, but with one important difference. Everything you might see at the party would be consensual.”

  That wasn’t exactly a comfort. Some of the things that took place in the Black Lounge were also consensual. Randy’s heartbeat matched his breathing. “We’re not talking anything… illegal here, are we?”

  Owen arched his eyebrows. “Define illegal.”

  “Drugs.” Randy couldn’t believe he was asking questions, as though he were actually interested in going. But I am interested. Well, maybe curious was a better word.

  Owen held his hands up. “Okay, there might be poppers, but that would probably be it.” He focused his gaze on Randy. “None of your bad guys there. Just ordinary men, having a good time. From what I’ve gleaned, it sounds like a group of friends getting together, that’s all.”

  Then why didn’t it sound like an ordinary evening? Randy considered that it might be just a consequence of his present assignment.

  Owen put down his glass and sighed. “If you see anything that makes you uncomfortable, you leave. Just like that.” His eyes were kind. “What I’m trying to give you is an opportunity to be among gay men in an environment where it’s okay to ‘let loose.’ No one to judge you. A place where you’re safe. A place where if you feel you want to take things a step further, you can.”

  Fuck. Randy’s curiosity went into overdrive. “About taking things further….” His throat dried up, and he quickly took a drink from his glass.

  “Totally up to you. If you want to leave, fine. If you just want to make out with a guy, that’s fine too.”

  Make out with…. Oh God.

  He was conscious of Owen’s careful gaze, aware of just how much Owen saw, because he’d seen it all before, right? What Randy knew to his bones was that Owen wasn’t judging him, and that knowledge eased a little of the tension in him.

  Only a little.

  “Like I said, you don’t have to do anything. Watching might be your thing.” Owen paused before continuing. “What I’m trying to say is, you control it.”

  There was no use denying it. Owen’s words painted a picture that both intrigued and excited him, fueling his curiosity to almost fever pitch and overriding his instincts.

  Randy took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Friday night, you said?” That was only the next night. The next freaking night.

  It was Owen’s turn to blink. “Yes.” Then he smiled. “Good man. It takes courage to push at your boundaries, to step outside your comfort zone. But you won’t be alone.”

  Randy knew Owen was right. He’d come this far, accepted that his sexuality wasn’t cut-and-dried. And deep down, there was part of him that wanted—no, needed—to know what it was like to feel another man’s touch… another man’s kiss.

  A little exploration couldn’t hurt, right?

  Jesse’s face was right there in the forefront of his mind, but Randy pushed it aside.

  Can’t think about him like that. Jesse’s not an experiment. He’s….

  Fuck, he was so much more than that. But right then the thought of the party consumed him. Owen was offering him the chance to discover more about himself, and Randy was going to explore that chance to the fullest.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THIS IS a bad idea. What the hell was I thinking?

  Randy stared at his reflection, seriously conflicted. As soon as he’d gotten into his own apartment the previous evening, the doubts began to creep in.

  Why did I say yes?

  A glance at the clock beside his bed only exacerbated his nerves. Owen would be knocking on his door any second, and Randy still wasn’t sure if he was prepared to go ahead with this. He was ready to go, dressed in chinos and a pale blue shirt, because Owen had stressed casual, but his nerves just wouldn’t quit.

  Randy breathed deeply, attempting to force some semblance of calm into his body.

  Look. What’s the worst that can happen?

  That definitely wasn’t helping.

  Okay, then what’s the best thing? I have a great evening, meet some cool guys, and….

  It was the and that bothered him.

  A sharp rap on the door brought his internal conversation to an end. Randy picked up his dark blue casual jacket, left his bedroom, and opened the door. Owen looked his usual well-groomed self.

  “Ready?”

  You can still pull out. There’s still time.

  Except, when he pushed aside all his fears, doubts, and misgivings, Randy didn’t want to pull out. He had to know.

  Randy gave Owen a smile that was a damn sight more confident than he was feeling. “Ready.”

  “ADMIRING OUR view?”

  Randy turned to one of the hosts, Martin, and smiled. “It’s lovely. It must be nice to watch the changing colors in the fall.” The apartment building stood on a corner on Central Park West, overlooking the park. Its location, along with the decor, told Randy his hosts weren’t short of money.

  Martin nodded. “We’ve been here twenty years now. Silas and I wouldn’t live anywhere else.” The men were in their fifties, Randy estimated, and both gave off an air of confidence.

  “Your glass is empty.” Silas appeared at Randy’s side, holding out another drink. “More champagne?”

  Randy exchanged his empty glass for the full one. “Thank you. Owen didn’t mention anything, but are you throwing this party for a special reason?” He grinned. “Or do you just like throwing parties?” Randy felt at ease. There were maybe ten to fifteen men present, some more impeccably dressed than others, which made him glad he’d worn a jacket. Music played softly in the background, and a waiter dressed in black circulated throughout the large living room, holding trays of nibbles. The atmosphere was relaxed, and not at all what he’d expected.

  Silas laughed. “Does it show? We love having parties, but yes, this is a special occasion.” He held out his hand, and Martin took it. “This is our wedding anniversary. Well, kind of.”

  “It’s complicated,” Martin explained. “We got married five years ago, when it first became legal in New York, but we chose our wedding date specifically. Today was the day we met, twenty-five years ago.”

  Randy raised his glass. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. We’re glad you were able to attend. Any friend of Owen’s is welcome here. I believe you two are also neighbors?”

  Randy nodded.

  “Well, I hope you have a pleasant evening. We must mingle.” Martin gave Randy a single nod, then walked off with Silas to talk to a couple sitting in a window seat.

  “Having fun?” Owen said quietly from beside him, a glass in his hand.

  “Yeah. I like your friends.” They seemed like nice guys.

  Owen stared across the room at Silas and Martin. “They’re amazing men, Silas in particular.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Owen lowered his voice. “I met Martin when he accompanied Silas to an appointment at a clinic where I was working. I was being polite, just passing the time of day with him while he waited, until I realized I’d
seen him before. In a gay bar. I struck up a conversation, and he told me what had happened.” He leaned in closer. “Silas was the victim of a violent attack.”

  Randy gaped at him. “Why would anyone want to beat him up? He seems like a sweet guy.”

  Owen raised his eyebrows. “And he is. He’s also gay. That was enough reason to put him in the hospital for a couple of weeks, apparently. But once he’d recovered from his injuries, he was left with mental trauma. Martin persuaded him to seek help, and he came through it. We stayed in touch and became friends.” Owen cocked his head to one side. “You must have come across such cases in your line of work.”

  “Yeah.” Randy shook his head. “We still have way too many assholes out there.” He didn’t understand such hatred. What people got up to in their bedrooms had absolutely nothing to do with anyone else, and to beat the crap out of someone just because they were different made no sense in Randy’s book.

  “Anyhow, let’s change the subject. You seem relaxed. That’s good.”

  Randy chuckled. “That’s because there’s nothing going on here that would stress anyone out.” Hell, they’d been there for nearly an hour, and so far all Randy had seen was guys talking, drinking, and snacking.

  Yeah, definitely not what he’d expected from Owen’s depiction of the party.

  “Excellent.” Then Owen’s eyes gleamed as he stared past Randy’s shoulder. “Except it seems the party is only just getting started.”

  Randy turned to look and was confronted by two men sitting on a couch in the corner, making out. Nothing heavy, just kissing, but things appeared to be getting quite heated between them.

  That was one of the things Randy had liked about the Black Lounge—watching guys kiss. He couldn’t account for why it turned him on in a way that watching a guy and girl kiss didn’t. He glanced over to Martin and Silas, who’d also noticed the exhibition. Martin smiled, then carried on his conversation as if two men making out in his living room was an everyday occurrence.

  Randy turned back in time to see the guys get up from their couch and walk out of the room. “Was I staring too much?” he murmured to Owen.