The Coil (16 page)

“No. I—” He bit his lip. “It’d be painful to write about, which is why I’ve only ever thought about it and not spoken about it. I’ve never taken the idea seriously before, but… I
—
I was thinking of writing about a single parent raising an autistic child.
Fictional
, of course. Not autobiographical.”

A soft smile slowly spread across Mattie’s face. “Now, I imagine
that
is something you could put your entire heart into.”

“There’s a lot of pressure with a book like that, Mattie.”

“But you
know
that life, and you’re a talented writer.”

“I may know that life, but there’s still the matter of making people understand it and doing the struggle justice
without
it sounding like some sort of burden. Jamie might read that book someday, and I couldn’t bear for him to think that I was either cashing in and playing on the reader’s sympathy, or that I felt entitled to some sort of recognition for raising an autistic child.
God
, if he ever—”

“Simon.” Mattie reached across the table and touched his hand. “At every instance when talking about Jamie, you’ve made it totally clear that you would be lost without that kid. He is your entire world, and if he ever read the book—if you ever write it—I think there’s a good chance that he may begin to understand just how loved and how special he is.”

“And if he didn’t see it that way? He may be high-functioning, but he struggles with empathy just like any other autistic individual.”

“Then you explain it to him, but I don’t think you should count your chickens before they’re hatched. You tell me all the time about how you push him, that you drum these social rules into him every day. With a father like you, there is no saying how Jamie will turn out. You have no idea.”

“It’s still… it’s frightening, Mattie.” He had never once admitted to being afraid of anything to anybody. When he was a teenager, he had protected himself when it came to his sexuality, never showing weakness even when he was made to feel immoral. As a young adult, he had faced his first editorial meeting head on, despite feeling like an amateur. When Jamie had come into his life, it had been a case of staying strong for the baby and honoring his sister’s memory when he had never felt so alone in all his life.

He’d never admitted to a soul that he was frightened. And here Mattie was, not looking at him like he’d hung the moon, but with a respect and understanding that resonated with him. There was a lending of strength and an offer of support that spoke of more than their casual arrangement.

“You really think I could do it? It would mean asking for another extension.”

A beaming smile split across Mattie’s face. “We may not have known each other all that long, and I’ve only read one of your books, but I can say with complete confidence that you
could
do such a story justice, simply because I know how dedicated you are to your son. You’ve made it clear how others sometimes look at Jamie, but hearing the things you say, the good and bad, and having seen how you are with him the few times he’s been here, I don’t think I’d ever be able to think of an autistic individual, child or adult, as anything less than equal to me. It would be a commendable message to try and get across, and you never know, it could be like… therapeutic for you or something.”

Simon was gritting his teeth. “Something you said there is actually probably what terrifies me the most.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s one thing when they’re children—people with special needs, that is—but when they grow into adults, society seems to lose what little patience it had for them as children.” He sipped at the orange juice he’d been nursing for the past hour. “Have you ever seen it? How uncomfortable and sometimes disgusted people become when around an adult who can’t help but jerk or slur their words? The polite ones hide it, but it’s there. I sometimes think about when Jamie’ll be in his twenties, or older, when I’m no longer around. I wonder if he’ll be alone, and if people will look at him in that horribly distant way, as—as if he were
dangerous
.”

“Then all the more reason for you to tell your story and try and change that perception. I’m serious, Simon. You are so passionate about this subject. You’ve actually spoken to me more about this story, which at the moment is just an
idea
, than you have the book you’ve been working on for more than five years. That should tell you something.”

It did tell him something. It told him that Mattie was right. It told him that a very awkward and potentially unpleasant conversation with his editor and publisher was long overdue. It told him that Mattie was possibly one of the most intuitive, compassionate people he had ever met, and that he was fast beginning to think of him as his closest friend—a friend he had feelings for that surpassed sexual.

He thought it was perhaps about time for him to stop hiding behind his failed novel and be brave enough to start anew in a genre in which he had no experience or credibility—yet. He also knew he had to shake these feelings for Mattie, because it would only lead to a broken heart for him, and he could
not
go through that twice in one lifetime.

“My break’s over. I’ve got to get back to work.” Mattie huffed and stood with his empty bowl in hand, and took Simon by surprise by casting a quick glance around before stealing a quick peck on Simon’s cheek.

Simon couldn’t help but smile; there really was something naively sweet about this guy. “I got a sitter tonight. Will I see you later?” He wasn’t expecting a break from their little routine, but some small, insecure part of him always needed to double check. He felt something inside him shrivel when an uncomfortable and apologetic look passed through those gorgeous hazel eyes. He knew that look.

“Ah, I’d love to, but I can’t tonight. What about tomorrow? And hey, I’ll even cook for you.”

He could feel something bitter curling in his gut. Some subconscious part of his mind knew it wasn’t true, but he couldn’t help but feel like an afterthought. “Studying with Ty?” He knew it was a low shot. His voice alone conveyed disapproval, even though his words were innocent enough. He knew good and well Mattie wouldn’t be studying.

His jab took a direct hit, and he felt ashamed when Mattie looked down at the bowl he carried, then back up with small, forced smile. Those eyes of his had dimmed considerably, and Simon suddenly felt like a total bastard.

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mattie murmured and then headed on back through the “Employees Only” marked door.

“Simon Castle,” he murmured to himself. “You’re an asshole.”

Mattie hadn’t deserved that. He knew the effect his words—or the insinuation behind them—would have on Mattie, and he didn’t deserve that. What the hell was wrong with him? They had agreed from the start:
casual
. Mattie had never hidden what it was he sometimes had to do to pay the bills, not after the night at the gallery, anyhow. He had no right to throw it in his face, even if he
was
jealous.

He’d thought time and time again of just offering Mattie some cash to help him along, or just leaving it in his apartment so that he wouldn’t have to hook. But that smacked too much of a payoff for their time together, and that was
not
the relationship they had. Such a well-intentioned solution would only destroy their friendship and hurt Mattie and was, therefore, not an option.

There were no options. This was the way things would have to be between them, and he would just have to get over his feelings toward Mattie’s moonlighting and his feelings toward Mattie, period. He was too young, too gorgeous, and had too many issues to become a permanent fixture in Simon’s life. Because, when he was being completely honest with himself, what it boiled down to was that his life was also Jamie’s life, and Mattie just did not fit into that equation.

He was having fun. The sex was fantastic (even if they had wordlessly ruled out anything oral for now) and zapped some of the tension out of him. He genuinely enjoyed his time with Mattie, but perhaps he should put a stop to what it was they had going on before he became any further involved. If he was already taking cheap shots and getting jealous, then that told him he had allowed things to develop too far already. It was just a matter of finding the words, of finding the
will
to break things off.

The very thought filled him with unhappiness, and rather than think it through further or discuss it with Mattie like an adult, his instincts were to pack up his things as quickly as possible and leave the diner before Mattie returned. He couldn’t work right now, not after what they’d discussed about his writing. And he certainly couldn’t watch Mattie, all handsome and sweet, smiling at him every now and then from the sandwich bar while he contemplated a way of breaking off their arrangement. It was too much, and he fled like a coward, completely missing the suspicious glance Ty shot him as he looped his bag over his head and headed out the door.

M
ATTIE
stood outside, staring at the intercom a good ten minutes before actually buzzing. After composing himself in the cloakroom of the diner—his conversation with Simon having rattled him—he convinced himself he was imagining things and returned back to the restaurant floor, only to stop dead in his tracks when seeing Simon’s booth empty. He thought for a moment that perhaps he was in the customer restroom, but then all of his things were gone, save for his barely touched tuna baguette.

He tried texting Simon to ask if everything was all right, but only grew further disheartened as the hours ticked by and no response was forthcoming. He had a feeling he knew what was going on, and he was kicking himself for being unprepared and so hurt by it. They’d had their moments where he’d been unable to meet with Simon in the evenings, and this had been mostly due to Ty being over to help him study, but occasionally, it had been something else completely.

He was broke. He’d found himself flat out of painting supplies a week ago, but now he was even a few dollars shy of his rent, and he’d already borrowed from Ty twice that month, so there was no choice. He’d avoided hooking as much as possible because, where before he had been able to distance himself when with a john, he now found it difficult to zone out. Now that he had something that felt natural and real to him, something romantic that regular people had, the idea of giving head for money made him feel fucking sick.

As far as he knew, Simon was under the impression it was still a frequent occurrence. He’d actually been naive enough to think Simon understood the situation and accepted it. Not today. For the first time in the past several weeks during the pleasant haze he’d been in, he’d felt ashamed. And Simon had been the one to make him feel that way. Whether it had been intentional or not, for the first time in a long while he’d felt like his old self. He’d felt dirty.

He tried to tell himself that it was encouraging, that this meant Simon wanted more from him. Perhaps he’d even ask him to quit the hooking. That was really what it came down to, wasn’t it? He was waiting for that request. And as difficult as that would make his life financially, he would do it for Simon if it meant something more permanent for the both of them. If it meant actually going somewhere other than his apartment, or being able to call him his boyfriend, meeting his friends, seeing Simon’s home, and meeting Jamie officially… then he’d do it. Lord knows he hadn’t brought the little guy to the diner since they’d first got together, and he tried his best not to think about why that might be.

Hearing the door buzz and click open distracted him from his thoughts. He pushed the door open and made his way upstairs to Andrew’s door, and it was already open a crack for him. This was the one specific place he did not want to be, but Andrew was the most generous when it came to money, and he was hoping he could pay his rent with this one trick with Andrew, rather than with two johns. He pushed the door open.

“In the bedroom,” Andrew called.

He walked on through to the bedroom, seeing Andrew in a towel, his hair wet, sitting at a dresser while distractedly going through what looked like a bound stack of papers.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Andrew mumbled and waved over his shoulder the vicinity of the bed.

Mattie went as far as to drop his backpack, but left his coat on. He pushed his balled-up hands deep in his pockets as he sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting. Finally, Andrew threw the papers aside with an agitated sigh and strolled on over to the bed. Mattie had to fight to not flinch when the back of Andrew’s meaty hand stroked his cheek.

God. He was nothing like Simon. Where Simon was slim and neatly presented, Andrew was overweight and constantly disheveled. Where Simon was quiet and thoughtful, Andrew was crude and inappropriate. Simon would practically fall all over himself apologizing if he were to ever unintentionally cause anyone offense. This guy? This guy was cocky.

“What’s up with you? I know you’re not usually bowled over to be here, but it’s a little difficult to get in the mood when the guy who’s supposed to go down on you looks like he’s going to burst into tears, you know?”

“It’s nothing.” Mattie took a deep breath and shrugged off his jacket. “Just get on with it.”

“Color me flattered.”

“Since when did you need romance?” Mattie snapped.

“True, but I’d settle for willing.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Andrew sighed, and instead of dropping the towel and getting on with it like usual, he sat beside Mattie on the bed with a huff. “You know what? I don’t even have it in me tonight.”

“B-but I came all the way over here!” Mattie glared, relieved and pissed at the same time. There had been something about blowing Simon’s editor that felt a little extra wrong.

Andrew waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll still pay you. Relax. It’s just been a hell of a day.”

Well. That was… kind of decent of him. Feeling as if he owed the man something, Mattie relaxed a little and attempted to at least act as a listening ear. “You want to talk about it?”