Friends and Lovers (7 page)

“I remembered we didn’t have time to go food shopping yesterday, and since I knew you didn’t have any food in the house… Babe, I told you I’d see you tonight.”

“No, you told me – and I quote, ‘I’ll see you later.’”

“It’s the same thing.”

“It isn’t. Anyway, I’ve made plans.” He went to his dresser and pulled out clean clothes.

“Okay. Let me put this stuff away while you’re getting dressed, and then we can go out.”

“You hate going out to dinner during the week.” Tom felt oddly uncomfortable dropping the towel, so he tried to do it casually. He turned his back, and where yesterday he would have made a slow production of drawing the silk boxers up his legs, now he had to battle not to scramble to get into them.

“I don’t mind…”

“Look, don’t do me any favors, okay? Besides, you always spend Mondays with your kids.”

“I told Reba I couldn’t tonight.” Jack pulled a face. “She was some pissed, let me tell you.”

Tom couldn’t help grinning. He’d met Reba Sweet, nee Benoit, on the same day he’d met Jack. Jack had tackled him in a game of shirts and skins, practically burying the younger teen under his big body. Tom had gotten hard in spite of himself.

The grin faded from his face. Afterwards, apologizing profusely for causing scraped elbows, Jack had brought him over to the sidelines and introduced him to his fiancée. The aversion had been mutual and instantaneous, but Jack had been oblivious. He insisted that once they got cleaned up, his new-found friend join them for ice cream.

Tom had taken pains to conceal the antipathy from Jack, but Reba, ostensibly such a good Christian, had felt no such compunction. Eventually, she’d given Jack an ultimatum – his queer Jew friend, or her and Jesus and the certainty of eternity in his bosom.

He hadn’t been surprised when Jack, the preacher’s son, had chosen the side of god and the angels.

It had hurt, but he’d let him go.

The fact that he’d transferred to Florida State U shortly afterwards had nothing to do with it.

“My purpose in life isn’t to help you score points off Reba, Jack, but never mind her. You always spend Mondays with Theodore and Catherine. How are they going to feel?”

“They’ll be okay for one night.” To Tom, Jack sounded uneasy, though. “It’s just for tonight.”

The way what happened over the weekend was only supposed to just be for one night?

“I… I wanted to see you again.” Jack offered a hopeful smile. “I
told
you…” 

“You’re choosing me over them?” And how soon would it be before Jack began to hate him for that? He dropped down on the neatly made bed and put on black dress socks.

“Tom? What are you doing?”

“Dressing. Obviously.”

“Yeah, but those are dress clothes.”

“Give the man a cigar. I’m going out. Alone.” Some demon made him continue, “Although I won’t be alone when I come home.”

“Tommy?” Jack was pale now, and Tom felt a perverse sense of triumph. “What’s going on, babe?”

“Nothing’s going on. I’m going out to dinner, and then I’m going clubbing, and if a tasty twink with a bubble-butt catches my eye, I’m bringing him home and fucking him through the mattress.”

“This mattress? On… on this bed?”

“Do you see any other bed in here?” Tom dragged the white Ralph Lauren polo shirt over his head and smoothed it over his torso. This shirt always drew attention. It was certainly drawing Jack’s eyes. However, that
hadn’t
been why Tom had chosen it.

“But…”

“But what?”

“The last few days…”

“What about them?”

“They were so great! We had such a good time. At least…” His voice dropped. “I did.”

“You fucked me. So fucking what?” Tom stepped into his black trousers and yanked them up his legs.

“But…”

“You’re repeating yourself, and it’s getting old. Go home, Jack.” He zipped his fly and went to the closet to take a pair of loafers from a shoe tree. It wasn’t an excuse to avoid the desperation in his friend’s eyes.

“No. You’re my… we’re best friends. I know you liked what we did.”

“I repeat. So. Fucking. What?” Tom forced himself to look at Jack.

His best friend’s face was almost gray now. “Do you wa… want to f… fuck me?”

“And if I said yes? You’re so fucking scared to have a cock up your ass you can barely get the word out.”

“If… if that’s what you want…”

“Like I have time to break in a virgin.”

“What do I…” Jack swallowed, the sound so loud Tom could hear him where he stood. “What do I have to buy you?”

“
What
?” Tom felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. “Why would you think…”

“That’s how it goes. That’s how it always goes. I’ll… I’ll buy you anything you want. I’ll
be
anything you want.”

“You can’t be what I want, Jack.” Tom clutched at that. “You’re straight.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Since when? Friday night? No. Go home, Jack.”

“But I…”

“You’re straight.”

“You’re just using that as an excuse.”

“I don’t play with straight boys.”

“You… you were playing with me all this time?”

Tom made his voice bored. “Whatever.” He could do this, and if that was what Jack wanted to think... It occurred to him that when Jack walked out the door, he would be losing his best friend in the world. There was a tightness in his chest, and his heart fucking started to
break
, which he’d always thought was a load of bullshit.

Jack’s eyes were suspiciously bright. “You… you made me fall in love with you…”

Tom smacked down the leap of joy hearing that gave him. He
wouldn’t
be owned by anyone, not even this man who’d been his friend for more than half his life, who stood before him, bleeding without shedding a drop of blood.

“I didn’t make you do anything. Grow up, Jack. We’re not in high school. Go home. Or go hit the bars. See if you can find some woman to screw.”

“Tom…”

“I’m leaving.” If he stayed any longer he’d forget he was Tom Hansom, the man who needed no one. He’d be on his knees, begging – for forgiveness, for love, for whatever his friend would deign to give him. “Lock the door on your way ou…”

“You fucking tease!” Jack’s large hand landed on Tom’s shoulder and spun him around.

“Get your hands off me, you asshole!” Tom had always been careful to keep his volatile temper under tight rein around Jack. His best friend had never seen him out of control. Tom lashed out now, throwing a punch and striking Jack in the shoulder.

The blow barely made an impression on the infuriated man before him. Jack’s own fist shot out, catching Tom in the mouth, knocking him off his feet.

“Get up, you cocksucker! I’m gonna…” Jack’s eyes widened as he took in the blood dripping from Tom’s mouth. “Oh, jesus, Tom… What have I done?”

“You… you hit me.” Tom blinked and tried to sit up. Jack was there, sliding an arm around his shoulders, bracing him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, buddy.” Jack’s head dropped to Tom’s shoulder, and Tom felt the material dampen.

“Jack?” His mouth was swelling, and it was becoming difficult to talk. He rested his hand against his friend’s cheek.

“My fault. I know, it’s my fault. I’m too… too needy and desperate, and why would someone as wonderful as you want me? Love me?”

“Jack, I …”

“Oh, jesus, you’re bleeding so much.” Jack fumbled for a handkerchief and held it to Tom’s mouth.

Tom flinched.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry …”

“Call…” Tom swallowed a mouthful of blood and struggled to enunciate. “My ’dress book. James Rochester. ’e’s doctor…” He pointed toward the top drawer of his night stand.

Jack found it, an innocuous little book covered in maroon leather, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed the number. He took a deep breath, and Tom felt something inside him crumble at the pain in his best friend’s voice when he spoke.

“Dr. Rochester? My name is Jack Sweet. I’m a… I’m calling for Tom Hansom. Can you come here to his house, or can I bring him to you? He’s had an accident, and… No, nothing like that, but I think he may need some stitches. You will?” He covered the receiver. “He’s coming here, Tom.”

Tom nodded. “’ames ’ows ’ow ’oo ’et ’ere.”

“Okay.” He uncovered the receiver. “Okay, Dr. Rochester, we’ll … Is there anything I should so in the meantime? Okay. Yes, okay, that makes sense. We’ll see you in a little while, then. Thank you.”

“Ut ’id ’e ’ay?”

“What?”

Tom sighed and looked for the notepad he kept on his night stand. He frowned when he couldn’t find it, and muttered under his breath as he opened the draw and scrabbled through the stuff in there – a flashlight, an egg-shaped vibrator, a tube of Glide, a box of condoms, a vibrating cock ring. He finally found the notepad and a pencil, and he wrote something and handed it to Jack.

“Oh. ‘What did he say?’ He’ll be right here.” Jack was heading out of the bedroom.

“No…” Tom flinched and wrote again. He heard the icemaker on the freezer door being activated.

When Jack came back in, he had a towel in his hand. Tom shoved the paper at him.

“I mean what did he tell you to do?” Jack held out the towel. “He said ice it. There’s crushed ice in here. Put this on your mouth.” As soon as Tom took it, Jack stepped away from him.

Tom made a questioning sound.

“Don’t come close to me. I’m… I’ll hurt you again.” He avoided Tom’s eyes. “I should have known… I’m so much bigger than you…”

Oh, Jack. What have I done to you?
He’d been so busy trying to protect himself… And why hadn’t the punch he’d thrown at Jack stopped him? He’d taken down men bigger than his friend with a blow like that. He decided he’d think about it another time. Meanwhile, Jack was looking like he’d lost his best friend. Tom would have laughed in sour amusement, but his mouth hurt too much.

He put down the ice and went to Jack and hugged him. “’orry, ’ack.”

“No, I’m sorry, Tom. I never wanted to hurt you. As soon as the doctor takes care of you, I’ll leave.”

“No.” Tom left his friend’s arms, wrote on the pad, then showed him the page.
I’ve hurt you too, and that was the last thing I wanted. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

“Why, babe? What did I do wrong?”

Nothing. You didn’t do anything, Jack. This isn’t your fault.

“Then why?”

Tom tried to look away, but Jack caught his chin with gentle fingers and wouldn’t let him. There was that stubborn look on his face that told Tom he wasn’t going to let it go.

The knock on the door saved him from having to confess his arrant cowardice: Jack had just gotten too close.

“I’ll get it.”

Tom nodded, then winced as the slight movement caused his mouth to throb. He picked up the ice and gave it a thoughtful glance. He’d been punched in the mouth before. How bad could the injury be? He walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, and flinched. Was part of his lip
bisected
? No wonder why Jack had almost passed out.
He
was ready to pass out.

He covered it with the compress and went back into the bedroom.

Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day… 
The Mamas and The Papas

James was just walking in. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” he asked over his shoulder.

“No, this is Tom’s blood.”

“Well…” He came to a halt as he took in Tom’s appearance. “Holy mother of god!”

“’ot a ’ood…” He made an impatient sound, set aside the ice, and scribbled on the notepad.

“‘Not a good reaction from one’s doctor’? Asshole. Get in the kitchen. The light should be better in there.”

“’es, ’octor.”

“And shut up. I have no patience trying to decipher what you’re trying to say. Sit.” He pointed Tom to a chair and rolled up his sleeves, then opened his medical bag and began to lay some items on the counter. Jack had already turned on the overhead light. “Thanks. So you’re Jack Sweet? Tom’s spoken of you.”

“He has?” Jack stood beside Tom, motionless. “I don’t guess he’ll be doing much of that any more. This is my… I hit him.”

“I have no doubt he deserved it. Okay, Tom.”  He removed the towel. “Ouch. This is going to take some stitches.”

Both men watched as he washed his hands, threaded a suture through a needle, and came toward the injured man.

Tom shied away in spite of himself, and Jack rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Hold on a second, Doctor Rochester! Aren’t you going to give him something to numb the area? A… a local or something? Novocain?”

“No. The shot will hurt worse than the stitches themselves.”

Tom tried to scowl, but it hurt too much. He looked to Jack, although he really wouldn’t have blamed his friend if he washed his hands of the whole deal and just walked out.