From Morocco to Paris (17 page)

“You wanna put a bet on it?” Ian asked as he turned back around, grinning at Zane. “Like we used to? We’ll wager dinner tomorrow night on it. If I get him in the sack tonight, you’re buying.”

“I think we’re shooting tomorrow night.” Zane looked up desperately at the light, willing the color to change. Everyone around them must have felt the same, as they were honking and yelling like their commotion would make the signal change faster.

Harry’s Pub, the bar they went to, was loud, crowded, and looked exactly like an English pub, down to the dim lighting, high tables, armchairs, and huge paintings of London on the walls. The armed guards outside made Zane nervous but they weren’t accosted going in. The crowd inside was cosmopolitan and eclectic. There were even women there, a rare sight to see out and about in Cairo, and they actually served booze, unlike a lot of entertainment spots.

Zane went straight for the bar. Elliot joined him, and they tossed back a few shots of whiskey together. Davey and Ian ordered drinks and started mingling. Cristiano tagged after them.

“I know he’s your brother,” Elliot said, speaking loudly to be heard over the cacophony of voices and music, “but if he keeps flirting with Cristiano, there’s gonna be a fight. It wasn’t very nice of you to throw Cristiano in front of him, you asshole.”

Davey stood nearby. His jacket was off and hanging on the back of Zane’s chair. He and Ian were talking to a group of well-dressed, attractive young men.

“He’s not interested in Cristiano,” Zane said dully. “And I got my punishment already.”

Zane threw back another shot and winced as the alcohol burned his throat -- not so much now, though. The taste and heat were starting to fade. Ian said something close to Davey’s ear. Davey smiled.

Elliot looked at Zane and then ordered up another round.

Elliot eventually got up and went to the bathroom, and Zane sat alone at the bar, nursing a beer between shots. He had his back to the others, unable to watch. Someone slid into Elliot’s seat, and Zane looked up to see a handsome, dark-haired man wearing a very tight, white shirt underneath a slick gray sport coat.

“Are you American?” The man asked, with a thick accent. He leaned toward Zane and flashed him a smile. He had very white teeth. “I thought I heard your accent earlier. Anyone ever tell you that you look like a movie star?”

Zane considered the ways he could answer -- and also the possibility the man could be part of a sting -- but he felt hands on his shoulders just then, and his brother leaned over him.

“Hi there,” Ian said. He reached over Zane and grabbed his beer. After taking a drink, he looked at the young man, who sat back, eyeing Ian. “Who’s your new pal?” Ian asked. He put the beer down and grabbed Zane’s cigarettes off the bar.

“Oh, a real nice guy, thinks I look like a movie star.”

Ian laughed, high-pitched, as he tucked a cigarette between his lips.

The man rose to his feet. “Sorry for intruding.” He slid off into the crowd, and Zane breathed an inward sigh of relief.

“I feel so insulted,” Zane said and handed his lighter over his shoulder to Ian. “He could have at least said a director instead of a movie star.”

“That would be a terrible pick-up line.” Ian lit his cigarette and handed the lighter back. He blew the smoke out. “When did you fucking start smoking again, by the way?”

“I didn’t want to, trust me. You can blame Davey.”

“Oh my God.” Ian seemed to grow giddy at the sound of his name. “I’m think I’m gonna fuck him, Zane. I gotta stand here a minute, you don’t mind, do you? I ‘accidentally’ brushed his ass and I’m a little excited.”

Zane grimaced and took a drink of his beer. He really needed to say something, but the words caught in his throat, nearly choking him.
Not the time or place, and Davey would get too much satisfaction out of it.

“Where’d he go?” Zane asked.

“To the bathroom. Maybe I oughta follow. Take him by surprise.”

“I don’t think you should take a risk like that.” Zane passed his beer back to him. “Come on, I’ll order another.”

The others joined them a short time later. Zane ordered up several rounds of shots -- getting drunk preferable to staying sober and watching his brother practically licking Davey. Cristiano became drunk very quickly, to the point that he laughed at everything and nearly fell off his stool several times. Zane drank until he landed in a nice, warm place where the world looked bright and out of focus.

Leaving the pub several hours later, Ian had to hold Zane up and Elliot hauled Cristiano along behind them. Zane and Cristiano were singing a drinking song Zane had taught him, boisterously loud and off-key.

“God, it’s a good thing some of us aren’t alcoholics,” Davey said. “Somebody has to drive your wrecked asses back to the hotel.”

“I’ll meet you back there,” Elliot said, trying to keep Cristiano on his feet. “If I’m late it’s because we had to stop to puke.”

Zane got in the back of his car. Davey drove, and Ian sat up front with him, not on his side but more toward the middle. Zane willed himself to pass out, but sweet oblivion wouldn’t come.

The longest car ride of Zane’s life commenced. He tried to distract himself by singing some more and staring out at the still-heavy traffic with his vision slowly going in and out of focus. However, his gaze kept returning to the front seat.

Ian played with Davey’s hair and kissed his neck. He whispered something in his ear, something with the word “gorgeous” included. Zane also clearly heard the words “suck your cock” at one point. Zane wanted to scream. Davey stayed focused on the road, and Zane couldn’t see his face. He wanted to tell his brother to quit distracting Davey in the insane traffic or they were all going to die. That, at least, would sound like a valid reason to interfere, but for some reason he couldn’t get himself to say anything at all.

They arrived at the hotel at the same time as Elliot and Cristiano. Elliot pulled Cristiano out, who waved and shrieked excitedly, “Hello Zane!”

Zane waved back, but had a hard time smiling despite his inebriation. Cristiano yelled something in Italian and Ian cracked up. Davey looked flushed, arms crossed, avoiding Zane’s gaze.

They shared an elevator upstairs. Cristiano kept wobbling and speaking in a mixture of English and Italian against Elliot’s shoulder. Elliot shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. Davey stood silent, facing the doors. Zane watched Ian’s hand as he caressed Davey’s hip, possessive, marking his claim for the night.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow,” Zane said as soon as the doors opened on his floor.

Without looking back, he stumbled toward his room. He had to try several times to swipe the keycard properly. Once inside, he didn’t turn on a light. He paced back and forth beside the bed, running his hands through his hair. He fought the urge to release his anger for several long, buzzing moments made sharper by his drunkenness, and then he started kicking, throwing, and trashing everything around him.

His clothes and suitcase hit the floor, as did everything on the vanity and the bedside stand. Finally, he collapsed on the bed crossways, trembling and trying to block out images of Davey and Ian tangled up on Davey’s bed --
Davey’s bed
, where Zane had spent yesterday morning.

He’s not your boyfriend
, his mind slurred at him.
It’s fucking stupid to even be bothered by this. Don’t begrudge your brother a good time just because you suddenly have an inferiority complex.

He prayed to just pass out, and maybe tomorrow when he woke up the whole thing would be a whiskey-induced dream. He teetered on the edge of fuzzy sleep when a knock at the door pulled him back. He thought he was dreaming, but when the sound came again he lifted his head.

“Just a minnit,” he mumbled.

He got up, stumbled to the door, and struggled with the knob, all the while his mind screaming
Davey!
Damn it, why did he have to fuck up the room? Davey would surely get a laugh out of the mess, never mind ever letting him live it down.

Davey wasn’t outside the door though. Instead, Cristiano stood there.

“Shh.” Cristiano pressed a finger to his own lips, a keycard in his other hand. He whispered, “Can I come in?”

Zane stared at him a moment and then stepped aside to let him in. Somewhere in the back of his foggy mind, he realized this could only lead to bad things.

“Whoa!” Cristiano giggled, stumbling in the dark. “What happened in here?”

“Shitty maid service.” Zane tried to balance him, but the drunk propping up the drunk proved less than helpful. “Where’s Elliot?”

“Sleeping.” Cristiano slipped his arms around Zane’s neck. “He fell asleep.” His breath gusted across Zane’s face, barely perceptible in his numbness.

“If he wakes up, he’s going to wonder where you are.”

“It’s all right. I’ll go back soon.”

Cristiano lurched forward and their lips met in a sloppy kiss.

“Oh fuck,” Zane mumbled against his mouth. “Cristiano, what about Elliot?”

“Told you, he’s sleeping.”

Zane was referring to more than Elliot’s current location, but Cristiano didn’t seem to care.

“Mmm, you wanted to kiss me earlier,” Cristiano said. “Now you can.”

“I wasn’t thinking right then. I’m not now either, but -- “

“Come on Zane, don’t you feel good? I feel good, all over.”

Zane found himself unable to resist or to even really want to as Cristiano pushed him toward the bed. He hurt, Cristiano understood, and his whiskey-saturated brain cared about little else.

They fell on the bed together, Cristiano underneath him. Zane wished he could feel more, because Cristiano’s lips were probably very nice, not to mention his hands, and his legs wrapped around his waist.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first day I met you,” Cristiano whispered as he tried to clumsily remove Zane’s shirt. “I like Elliot, I do. But I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Zane kissed his neck, his mouth, his face. He wasn’t entirely sure he could get hard in his state.

“You’re going to regret this in the morning,” Zane warned.
I’m going to regret this, for lots of reasons.

“I know. Give me something to regret.”

They kissed again, and then Cristiano whispered in his ear, something incredibly scintillating in Italian. He undid Zane’s pants.

Zane thought he heard a sound but couldn’t connect it to a source. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Both of Cristiano’s hands were in Zane’s underwear, fondling his semi-hard cock. In a delayed reaction, Zane looked up and yelped in surprise. The silhouette against the light from the window could only be Davey.

“How did you get in here!” Zane demanded.

“You drunk bastards left the door open!” Davey sounded venomous. “Cristiano, get up and go back to your room, before Elliot finds you here!”

Cristiano lay still a moment, apparently as unable to react as Zane.

“Now!” Davey said.

Cristiano got up. He found his shirt and keycard and stumbled to the door.

“Bye, Zane,” he said softly, before slipping into the hallway.

“Bye,” Zane called after him.

Davey closed the door. He then switched on the bedside lamp. Zane winced, shielding his eyes with his hand

“My brother must have finished quick,” Zane said.

Off guard and half blind, Zane wasn’t ready for the volley of punches that swiftly rained down on his head and chest. He defended himself with his arms, trying to get away.

“Hey!” Zane yelled.

“You fucker!” Davey snarled. “I didn’t sleep with your brother!”

The punches stopped, and Zane ventured an uneasy glance upward. Davey seethed, teeth clenched, eyes blazing.

“You didn’t sleep with him?” Zane asked. “Then what the fuck was all
that
at the bar! In the car!”

“I was trying to be polite, since you couldn’t see fit to call him the fuck off!”

“It’s not my job to tell him no!” Zane lowered his arms. “You’ve got a fucking mouth, use it!”

“He’s your brother, Zane! I was in a hell of a spot! Especially after that fucking speech at dinner, about how he was your precious brother, and you wouldn’t put anyone else above him!”

“I am not your fucking knight in shining armor!” Zane struggled off the bed, head still spinning. “If you think I’m going to come running to your rescue like some lovesick fool, you’d better reconsider things! Because that’s not me and that’s not us!”

Zane wondered where his cigarettes were. Nicotine might help clear his head.

“Oh, so what’s this?” Davey motioned around at the mess, his voice choked. “And what’s with Cristiano? Trying to spite me?”

“He came to me! He came to my fucking door!”

“You sure didn’t turn him away!”

“Now who’s the jealous asshole?
We’re not married
,’” Zane mocked. “Your words.”

“We may not be married, but at least I have some fucking tact!”

“Oh yes! Fucking tact. That’s why you didn’t tell my brother to fuck off when he had his hands all over you in the car!”

Davey turned sharply and walked to the door.

“Do you think he’s me with all the attributes you long for?” Zane yelled after him.

Davey stopped and looked back at him.

“Do you think he’ll be your boyfriend,” Zane asked, “and hold your hand, and show you off in public, like you want me to? Is that what you think? You’re gonna be surprised, because he might be my brother, but he’s not me.”

Davey glared. Even with the haze over his vision, Zane could see the brightness in his eyes, threatening to overflow.

“I know he’s not you,” Davey said lowly. He opened the door. “That’s why I didn’t sleep with him.”

Davey slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Zane alone in the ringing silence, surrounded by the mess he’d made -- in his room, and in his life.

Chapter 14

“God, you look like hell, Zane.”

Zane sat down across from Ian, the smell and sight of the food on his brother’s plate making his stomach churn. He ached for a nice black coffee, but his stomach said
no
to solid food.

“I should know by now how to avoid that, shouldn’t I?” Zane asked. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and then pushed his fingers back through his hair, which he hadn’t bothered to brush yet.