Look Closer: No Safe Words Here 1-4 out of 5. Boxed Set (11 page)

“Are you sure you’re alright to drive?”  I asked, feeling more than a little dizzy sitting there in the truck.  The scent of him was thick there, and I inhaled all the deeper for it.

“I only had one beer.” He looked at his watch.  “And that was almost two hours ago.  I’m sober as a judge.”

I blinked at him.  “How many did I have?”

He stammered and looked away; looking uncertain he should tell me.  But then I saw his brow wrinkle as he chose.  “You had four beers.”

Four…four mugs of beer? 

“Holy crap…I’m going to have a hangover tomorrow, aren’t I?”

He gave a little laugh and pulled onto the interstate.  “You might at that.”

*****

I’d been smiling the entire time I was away from home.  My cheeks actually ached from all the smiling I’d done.

But that ended about twenty seconds before Jake stopped the truck in front of my house.  That’s when I saw Tom’s shiny blue BMW pull out of the driveway and speed off in the opposite direction. 

He come home for lunch…he’d been home all alone…
or had he?

A cold grip took hold of my stomach as I pushed open the truck door and stepped out into the Tempe heat. 

Jake said something to me and I turned and stared at him.  “What?”

He looked a little baffled, but he shook it off good naturedly.  “I just said I’ll be by around nine tomorrow morning, to get an early start on the shingles.  It’s supposed to be a hot one.”

I plastered a smile on my face and nodded.  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I turned and walked numbly up the walkway leading to my front door.  I let myself into the house without looking back at Jake.  Once inside I let the cool of the newly fixed air conditioning engulf me in its clammy embrace.  I breathed in deep and held it, and then took in smaller, shallow breaths, tasting the air.

Nothing smelled different.

I walked through the house, knowing every inch, every touch of fabric, every smooth surface, every memory—but feeling like a complete stranger there now.  Could your home of twenty years just suddenly become not yours any longer?

Well, it worked with husbands, now didn’t it?

I looked up to the ceiling, in the direction of our bedroom.  A dark compulsion taunted me to go up there.

Had he come home and been all alone?

The instant I walked into the bedroom I knew he had NOT been alone.  The bed was made, nearly perfectly…except that the duvet was smooth and flat against the mattress.  Tom had made it, and hadn’t realized I’d contoured the duvet special.

I let out the breath I’d been holding.  Of course he hadn’t been alone!  I’m the only one in this marriage that’s alone!

And then I saw there was a stain on the duvet.  At first it just looked like a shadow across a seam.  But then I leaned down and really looked. 

It was a goddamn cum stain!

That motherfucker!

I tore the duvet and the matching sheets from the bed, rolling the pillows, cases and all, up into the bedding.  I dragged it behind me, down the steps, through the kitchen and out the back door.  I walked all the way to trash cans that lined the outside of the back yard fence.  I stuffed them into the first can I came across and slammed the lid down.  But it didn’t make more than a muffled thud.  The bedding and duvet wouldn’t fit in the same can, and so the fluffy duvet stuck out all over, not allowing the lid to close.

I glared at the offending trash can, and the ruined, defiled bedding. 

Throwing it away wasn’t enough, not by a long shot.

I pulled the cum-stained bedding out of the trash can and pulled it after me back into the back yard.  There I opened the charcoal grill Tom used to use back when he actually spent time at home.  Before being mayor, before Emily had died, before he fell out of love with me…

Or had the bastard ever loved me?

Had he always been gay? No, we’d had plenty of sex those first few years…that hadn’t been a figment of my imagination.

Was he bi-sexual?

My head throbbed as I pulled open the lid of the grill and tore the metal grillwork out and tossed it into the pool.  I loaded the bedding—duvet and pillows and all—up into the grill.  It all fit, sort of.  And then I strode into the kitchen, found some lighter fluid and a box of matches.  A few long squirts and the bottle was empty.  A flick of the wrist and a match was struck and burning between my fingertips.  I dropped it delicately on top of the bedding and the whole thing burst into dazzling flames in less than a heartbeat.

I blinked spots out of my eyes, feeling the sudden, intense heat the fire was emanating.  I wondered…if it put off enough smoke, would the fire department come.

“Ma’am, why did you set your bedding on fire in the back yard grill?” They would ask.

“My husband’s been fucking a teenage boy in our bed…” I would answer.  “And there was a stain.”

I stood and watched the bedding being eaten by the flames.  The smell was repugnant—must not have been as pure of Egyptian cotton as it had been advertised.  I think I’ll have a word with the sales clerk and manager at Macy’s the next time I’m in shopping.

I closed my eyes and hugged my arms around myself.  My marriage was over…I just had to pick out the flowers for the funeral…and there was most certainly going to be a funeral.

Chapter Fifteen

Marcus

The afternoon sun was waxing to the west, throwing the front porch into shadow.  The winds were still hot, but they still felt good against my skin.  I walked over and sat on the porch railing, and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Okay, Mikey boy…shoot.”

He gulped and looked away.  I thought for a second that he was going to take off and dive off the porch, he looked that uncomfortable. 

But then he said, “You need to stop seeing the mayor.”

It was my turn to gulp.  I kept my expression bland, but had to force myself to breathe again.

“He lives right next door, Mikey.  I don’t have much of a choice.”  He didn’t know anything, I assured myself.

He looked me straight in the eye and squared his shoulders.   “I mean that you need to stop letting him fuck you.  It’s dangerous—”

There was a cracking sound, and Mikey made a sound like he was choking.  I suddenly realized I’d leapt from the porch railing and slammed him backwards into the house.  I also realized I had my forearm pressed hard into his throat.

He gasped when I let off his throat, but when he tried to speak I slapped my hand over his mouth and leaned in close, my lips peeling back from my teeth in a snarl.

He tried to talk again, but it was just a mumbled cry.

“Stop talking, Mickey.” He moaned and I pressed in on his face even harder.  “I said to stop talking, or I’m going to have to hurt you.”

I could feel his lips purse under my hand and he glared at me with unfettered irritation.  Or maybe he was just scared now.

His lips were soft, as was the flesh of his face…and being this close really made his strange, kind of punky scent hard to ignore.  I felt my dick stir before I could push the heady feeling of lusting for him down and out of my mind.

His eyes were excited…maybe he really was scared now.

I took a few deep breaths and tried to center myself. I needed to find out what he knew, and then I had to convince him he was wrong—but most of all I needed to keep myself calm…

“How the fuck do you know about me and Tom!”

So much for staying calm and keeping plausible deniability.

I glared into his soft, brown eyes.  “Well?”

He shot me a dirty, sarcastic look, and then dropped his eyes to where my hand was still covering his mouth, and mumbled, “Let go of me!”  It sounded like “eff goad off ee!”

Well shit!

I let go and moved back a step…but I still had him pinned to the wall, my hand pressing against his chest, my palm hard against his sternum.

His pretty, thick lips were bruised pink and red from where my hand had been pressing on them.  I felt moisture on my palm and was tempted to lick it off.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I took another calming breath before I tried to bluff my way out of this mess.

“I don’t know where you heard such a ridiculous—”

“I saw you…I’ve seen you two, fucking—”

“Bullshit!”

“The first time was in his garage on Christmas Eve.”

Shiiit!  He’d seen that?  I knew I shouldn’t have gone along with that.  But Tom had wanted to “Buff the hood of my new car with that hot, young ass of yours.”

Fuck, fuck, double fuck!

“And the latest was about an hour ago in their bedroom.  You tied him up with something and sat on his—”

I jerked forward and pushed him against the wall again, this time slamming my forearm against his sternum.  It got him to shut up, but he also gasped in pain and I immediately pulled back.  He slumped over in agony, grasping his chest and making strangled sucking sounds.

Jesus Christ, what the hell was I doing?

I reached down and took him in my arms, dragging him toward the porch swing my mother had insisted my father hang, so she could sit out on the porch and swing back and forth on it while she watched the neighbors and gossiped with passersby’s. 

Which she had never once done.

Mikey was making hoarse, phlegmy sounds as he tried to take in some air. 

I felt like puking—I’d never intentionally hurt another living person before.  Sure, I’d taken some Judo and Karate classes in middle grade, and some Tai Chi in high school, but I’d never even entered a tournament.  I’d just known early what I was, and that I’d need to learn to take care of myself.  Luckily I’d never needed to use those skills to protect myself.  But now I’d use some of them to hurt a really nice, really shy gay guy that trusted me.

I was a piece of shit.

When he could finally take in a breath without choking or coughing up a lung, he shot me with a look that confirmed he thought I was a piece of shit too.

“I’m sorry, Mikey.”

“My name,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom, “is Mike.”

And here I’d really thought he liked me calling him Mikey…another spectacular social faux pas.

“I’m really sorry…Mike.” I scrubbed my hands over my face and through my hair.  This was just insanity!  “I…freaked out a little when you said all that.”

Mikey leaned away from me, his stare a silent indictment.  “You think?”

I rolled my eyes and reached out to put my hand on his shoulder.  I just wanted to reassure him somehow.  But he pulled away and stood up, staggering away from me across the porch and fell against the porch railing.

I shot up and followed behind him; afraid he would pass out or fall over.  How bad had I hurt him?

“Are you sure you’re alright?” I whispered.

He laughed, and it was an ugly, raspy sound.  “Of course I’m not alright.  My best friend just assaulted me.”

“I didn’t mean to—” Shit…he just said I was his best friend.  How pathetic is that when the kid thinks of me as his best friend?

I turned and punched the vinyl siding of the house.  It cracked, and my fist left a bloody mark on the wall.  I clenched my hand to my stomach and tried to shake off all the shit I was feeling.  I had to make things right with Mikey…er, Mike.

“I am really sorry,” I said.  “I know I can’t justify this—”

He snorted sarcastically. 

“But I didn’t mean to hurt you…you’re…you…”

Mikey turned and his big brown eyes were suddenly drowning deep.  I so wanted to get closer, close enough to feel his breath on my face, to just stare into those eyes for the next couple of years.

“I’m just what?” he asked.

I was about to say something disastrously stupid.  What I needed to say was something that wasn’t going to fuck up my life even more than it already was.

“You’re my…” I couldn’t lie to him.  He wasn’t my best friend.  He was that gay kid from two doors down that I stood up for three years ago when he moved to town, and I’d been his mentor/big brother ever since.  “You’re a real good friend.”

He groaned in disgust—obviously not buying my meticulously chosen words.

He cracked his neck and stood up straight again.  “I just wanted to tell you to stop—” he rolled his eyes as he said “—fucking the mayor.  You could really get hurt…
he
could really hurt you.”

I was about to tell him Tom would never hurt me…but I couldn’t even tell myself that.

We stood there in silence for what seemed like forever.  I didn’t think he was going to say anything else, when he suddenly, inexorably did.

“You should be with someone better, someone that would protect you and…”

I shook my head and looked at him with what I hoped passed for pity.  “I told you from the start, you are not my type.”