Lexington Black (23 page)

'How? He was dead two days later.'

Lex sagged, defeated. 'He wrote me a
letter.'

'I want to see it.'

'I don't have it!'

Rob took a threatening step towards him.
'You're lying again! Show it to me.'

'Fine! Happy now?' He said bitterly to Peter,
still crying quietly by the door. 'Get the fuck out of here. You're
no friend of mine, you treacherous piece of shit.'

Peter's bottom lip quivered again. He turned
on his heel and fled from the apartment.

As Rob waited, he fought the urge to pick up
the nearest heavy object and smack Lex with it as soon as he
reappeared again. He felt such a fool. A stupid, gullible, blind
fool.

'Here.' Lex muttered, holding out a thick,
embossed envelope. Rob flipped it open and drew out the letter.
Seeing his father's handwriting made his hands shake. It was
incontrovertible proof of Lex's duplicity. Why had Lex received a
letter and he had been left with nothing? He sat down, not trusting
his legs to hold him up, and began to read.

Dear Lexington

I know that by the time you receive this
letter, you will already know what has happened. I hope in time you
will understand the reasons for my actions. It could not have been
any other way. The idealism of youth cannot see it now, but you
must understand how it was for me. Please be reassured that YOU
HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG. It's important that you know and accept
that. The blame is solely with someone else and I will come to that
in a short while.

I tried to fight my natural instincts. I
really did. For the sake of my wife, my five children, my career,
the pinnacle of which was taking the Headship of Melville Hall. I
had so much and I should have been grateful for it, but I was
not.

I hope you never feel as I felt. I hope you
embrace your sexuality and stand proud. I was born too early but
everything is changing. It is too late for me. I mapped out my life
and lived it as I saw fit. This last act of mine is the only honest
thing I've done since I hit puberty.

Please don't mind the things they say about
me. They can say what they want. I won't be there to hear them. I
am beyond hurt. The Catholic Church will condemn me to hell, but I
have lived it for years and I'm used to it. My children may disown
me. My wife will wail and wring her hands, then turn to her God. At
least she has him to turn to. I have no regrets about what I am
about to do, just as I have no regrets about my night with you.
Some people will never be as happy as I was when I was with you.
For a fleeting moment, I experienced real joy.

Now for the someone else I was alluding to
earlier. You asked me about the boy I saw in London. Seems he knew
I was cruising, after all. His name is Ainsley Eaves, and he is
currently Head Boy. A complete fool, and a vindictive one. I was
compelled to give him the post because he warned me what might
happen if I didn't. No outright threats, but enough that I thought
it was better to give him what he wanted, in the hope that he would
forget our meeting that night. His knowing smile has kept me
dangling on a string for months. I hoped that it was a temporary
measure until the wretched boy left the school, but it was a vain
hope, Lexington. The day after the Old Boys' Dinner, I was
confronted with undisputable evidence of our tryst. He had put the
camera in your room so he could film you for his personal pleasure
later but had, as you might say, hit pay-dirt. By the time I knew
about it, so did my wife, the Governors, the Principal of the
School. Everyone.

I cannot deal with the shame about to engulf
me. The smirks, the disapproval, the fall from grace. I cannot. My
children are better off without me. What good am I to them now? The
thought is too painful to bear so I won't. Instead, my last memory
will be of you, rampant and sweating in my arms and for a fleeting
moment, I will be happy.

Mr. Martyn

The letter shook in Rob's hands as he folded
it up and stuck it back in the envelope.

'I was in England for a meeting with the
Eaves Group, which is Ainsley Eaves's transport company. I bought
the company a few weeks back, and fired him as CEO,' Lex said
quietly.

'Is that supposed to make me feel better? All
I've got left of my father is a few pieces of junk from his desk.
No photographs, no diaries, no damned suicide note!' Rob threw
another punch, this time sending him sprawling across the floor. He
tossed the envelope at his prone body and walked out.

******

He felt numb with anger, humiliation and
grief. Mechanically he went back down to his suite, locking the
door. He should have known that Lex had never been interested in
him. All he wanted was to fulfill some ancient, sick fantasy, to
prove he could conquer the son as well as the father. Well, he
hoped it had been worth it.

Back in the apartment, he stared at the
cardboard tube on his coffee table as if it were some kind of
incendiary device. After a long while he picked it up and broke the
seal. Might as well get all the pain over with in one fantastic
sitting.

The paper was stiff, the colours crisp as the
day the photograph was developed. He scanned the faces again. His
father was in the middle, smiling sadly, pride and pain in equal
measures. It had been so long ago, but the face was so familiar to
him. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror.

'Hi, Dad,' he murmured, and wished above
everything else right then that he had been able to embrace him, to
give him a hug and tell him he understood. If only he could have
done it! The pain swept over him and he began to sob, the tears
falling freely to the floor. The photograph curled itself up again
and he did the same on the couch, wailing his grief until he was
exhausted with it. Distantly he heard someone knocking at the door
but he ignored them. It was more important to let out all the
pent-up feelings that had been stored inside him for so long.

A long while later when he sat up again, the
sky outside the apartment was almost dark. He felt empty inside and
his face was stiff with dried tears. He reached for the photograph
and unraveled it again.

Charles Martyn was surrounded by boys wearing
wide smiles and immaculate suits. As sixth formers, they did not
have to wear uniform, but their suits and Graduation robes gave
them a look of conformity. On the very top row were two posers with
blond quiffs, Blue Steel pouts, arms folded as they struck a pose
either side of the tallest boy in the school.

Dark hair, lopsided smile. Lexington
Black.

The bastard. The manipulative, evil,
cocksucking bastard.

It was no good, he had to get out of that
apartment. He didn't want to face Lex or anyone else. In fact, he
didn't want to be in New York at all but he had no idea where to go
next.

Packing did not take long. He countered the
concierge's querying look by telling him he had to get back to
England a few days early. Family trouble, he said, and received a
sympathetic smile in return.

'Have a safe journey, sir,' the man said, and
Rob knew that message would get back to Lex within minutes.

He walked a few blocks and booked into the
Central Park Hotel. His room was small and had a good view of the
Park. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at it, his luggage
around his feet. He felt safe, but desolate. Why had Lex lied? He
would have been shocked at the truth but it would not have changed
his feelings for him. Lying changed everything.

He wanted to talk to Geri, but he remembered
his phone was still at the apartment. He didn't want to go back and
risk running into Lex or Peter. This was something he would have to
tough out on his own. That was fine. At thirty-five he damned well
ought to be able to.

Later that night, he went out and found a
quiet bar on 66th Street. Outside, a solitary figure in a grey
hoodie played guitar, the case open in front of him. The lilting
melody was not unlike the one Philip had been playing at Lex's pool
party. He tossed him some change and received murmured thanks in
response.

Inside, several men hung around, drinking and
talking quietly. Rob ordered a bourbon and sat at the bar, staring
into space. He hoped no-one would try to talk to him. He didn't
want chat, just the chance to be with other human beings who didn't
want anything from him.

'Rob?'

A younger man was approaching him, muscular
and tanned. Rob stared at him.

'Philip? What are you doing here?'

'I was performing outside. You didn't
recognise me! The boss lets me store my guitar here. He's my
cousin.' He waved to the bartender who came over and gave him a
beer. He nodded to Rob's empty glass.

'Another?'

'Keep it coming.'

'That bad, huh?' Philip said.

'I'm not great company tonight, Philip.
Sorry.'

'That's your way of saying "leave me
alone?"'

Rob shrugged. He didn't care one way or the
other.

'You want to talk about it?'

'I can't afford you.'

'Ah, well, it's Sunday. I don't work on
Sundays.' Philip scooped a crucifix out of his sweatshirt and
kissed the cross. 'I'm a good Christian.' He smiled gently at Rob,
showing all of his gleaming white teeth.

It's complicated.'

'Of course,
amigo
. It always is.' The
smile was back, but gentler this time.

Philip was a good listener. It was probably
why he was so successful as an escort. No doubt he thought that Rob
was no different to any other of the men he accompanied, spilling
their latest sob story before taking the young Mexican to bed.

Not that he had any desire to sleep with
Philip. He just wanted someone to listen, someone who wasn't Peter,
who had his own emotional baggage to deal with, or his sister, with
her own brand of helpful advice.

'My mother told us he was in hell because of
what he had done. No-one was allowed to talk about him. Not ever.
If we dared to, she would beat us with a strap. Beating the sin out
of us, she said. She lives her life consumed by bitterness and
hatred.'

'Ah, hatred in the name of God,' Philip said,
nodding. 'This is why I worship in my own way. I turned my back on
Catholicism a long time ago, much to the distress of my mother. The
women seem to like it. It feeds into their natural propensity for
feeling guilty about everything.'

'That's right. Only Sara, my youngest sister,
goes to church every Sunday and kisses her rosary each night. The
rest of us ...' Rob waved his hand dismissively. 'We don't have
time for that. And I guess now, I'm fucked anyway. God won't have a
lot of time for me.'

'Why? Because you're gay? If that's the case,
I'm screwed as well yet I don't feel he has abandoned me. I thank
him every day for keeping me and my family safe from harm. I do not
feel his hatred. It is men and women who hate. It is not God.'
Philip motioned to the bartender for two more bourbons.

All evening they talked, eating large
portions of burgers and fries to soak up the alcohol. His roast
lunch seemed a long time in the distant past. Around one o'clock,
Rob had to get home before he fell asleep in the gutter. As he
stood up, he swayed from all the alcohol he had drunk that evening.
Philip took his arm and together they went out into the street.

The cool air refreshed them as they walked to
Rob's hotel. There was a sense of inevitability about how the
evening would end. Rob had drunk enough to feel horny and reckless.
He wanted to screw Lex out of his system and find out what it was
like to be with a man apart from him. A man with no strings
attached. Philip went up to his room without needing to be
asked.

As soon as the bedroom door was closed, they
fell on each other, heated kisses and urgent grinding of flesh
against flesh. Rob was hungry for him, remembering how he had
looked at the pool, his brown, smooth skin and taut stomach, the
meaty, heavy balls now in his hand. Philip peeled off his black
weightlifter's singlet and the reality was just as Rob remembered,
his cropped black hair and gentle eyes topping a thick neck and
bulging muscles. He picked Rob up with ease and slammed him against
the wall, their lips locked in a hectic, ravenous kiss.

'I will make you forget him for tonight,'
Philip whispered as he moved down Rob's body, easing his jeans down
over his hips, letting his hot breath graze against Rob's tightly
encased cock. Rob sagged against the wall, his hips jutting out as
Philip peeled his trunks away and enthusiastically licked his
balls. Then he had him fully enclosed in his mouth and he was
deep-throating him like the expert he was. Rob closed his eyes and
encouraged Philip to take more in, his hand on the back of his
head. He wanted it to be Lex down there, kneeling before
him....

He felt as if someone had drenched him with
ice cold water. Philip was not Lex. He didn't want anyone but Lex.
Even though the fucker had betrayed him, he didn't want to do the
same. He moved away, tucking himself back into his pants.

'I'm sorry,' he panted. 'I can't. I just
can't. Oh, Jesus...'

Philip climbed to his feet and pulled up his
jeans, fastening them over his prodigious manhood. He pulled Rob
into his arms and held him, rocking him gently.

'You want me to stay?'

'Just ... hold me for a while.'

Philip guided him back onto the bed and they
curled up together, Rob cradled in his arms. He rested his head on
Philip's smooth, muscular chest, taking comfort from the slow
beating of his heart.

'Thanks,' he whispered, and fell into an
emotionally exhausted sleep.

He did not hear Philip leave, and in the
morning he felt calm. His thoughts were clear. Lex was a spoilt
rich boy who thought he could get away with anything. Rob had been
a plaything for a while, that was all. Geri was right, in a way.
Lex had been using him. And he had used Lex. He had just about
finished the first draft of his novel but had decided not to pitch
it to agents just yet. The writing of it had been cathartic and had
served it's purpose right then. He would put it away and think
about it in the future, when his life had calmed down a bit.