Wingmen (9781310207280) (64 page)

Fred pushed his
drink aside. “Why don’t we get it out in the open? I’m not afraid
of anyone any longer, and I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

“Fred,” Duane
began, but stopped as if he had lost his train of thought.

“Jack and I
were a lot more than just wingmen. For the last twenty-five years
we’ve been a lot more than just business partners.”

“I know,” said
Duane quietly. “I knew it then. I’ve seen your pictures in the
papers every now and then. I’m not stupid.”

“He spoke of
you before. He said he loved you like a brother and you saved his
life once. But there near the end you really scared him bad, made
him think that everything was going to pieces.” Fred’s voice lost
its edge and he took a drink from his glass. “The way you acted,
you really scared him.”

Duane was
sweating slightly. “How did he die?”

“Heart attack.
It took him three days to go. He was in a lot of pain.” Fred almost
choked. He passed his hand over his eyes, embarrassed at his loss
of control.

Duane finished
his drink and signaled the waitress for another round. “When you
think about it,” he said after a moment, “we were together a pretty
short time. But it seemed like years. He was so goddamned strong.
You know what I mean? He could handle anything that came along no
matter what it was. And you know, I tried like hell to measure up
to his standards. But I just never made it.”

The drinks
arrived and Duane paid.

“Then for a
while there, after Midway, you know, he was different. I didn’t
know what the hell was wrong. I just thought it was the war and
things. Then I watched you and him for a while and it started to
scare me, too. You know? I didn’t know what the hell was going on.
You can’t blame me, can you?”

“At first, he
was like a father to me,” said Fred, as if to himself. “The only
one I’d ever had.”

“Me, too, I
think,” Duane said, not quite understanding. “Or a big brother,
maybe.” Duane’s hand went to his collar, loosened his tie. “It
isn’t easy to say, Fred. But I loved him, too. I really did. I
tried to live the rest of my life the way
he
did those first six months I
knew him.” He tugged at his collar. “I was never the man he was. He
could handle anything.”

Fred drank his
cocktail and thought about the man he had shared his life with. He
wasn’t about to tell Higgins what it was really like for Jack: The
ever-growing paranoia, Jack’s fear that he and Fred would be found
out, ridiculed, cast out. The creeping mental confusion brought
about by the continual battle between his love for Fred and the
knowledge of the danger that that love represented. And how in the
last years that confusion had reduced Jack’s sharpness and wit and
decision-making abilities to a constant state of apprehension,
always looking over the shoulder to make sure he wasn’t followed.
Fred suddenly realized that in all their years together, they had
never taken a vacation with each other….

“Yeah,” he
said. “Jack could handle anything.”

“Another one?”
asked Duane, holding up an empty glass.

“No,
thanks.”

“Well.”

“I imagine you
have to be getting back.”

“Yeah. It’s a
long drive down the coast.”

“Next time
you’re in the area…”

“I’ll give you
a call. Maybe we could have dinner, talk over old times.”

“Sure. Drop
by.”

“Take it easy.”
Duane Higgins left a dollar tip on the table and left, without
having said once that he was sorry. Fred knew he would never hear
from him again.

After Higgins
left, Fred went out to the car that Jack had chosen and sat in it,
enjoying the warmth of the sun and the smell of Jack’s cigars. The
two drinks had sapped his strength. He didn’t feel like doing
anything, and he particularly didn’t want to drive home to the
great empty house. Pressing items awaited him there: a hefty
life-insurance claim was one; the company, which he had already
decided to sell, was another. The world was no longer the same
without Jack. Fred drove over the mountains to Santa Cruz to watch
the sun set into the Pacific Ocean, and for the second time in his
adult life, he cried.

Ensan Case served a
two-year hitch in the United States Navy. He wrote
Wingmen
in 1978 at the age of twenty-eight. Avon Books
in New York published it in 1979. After one printing, sales
stopped. Alas, he turned to other pursuits. In 2011, during a move,
he discovered his original file box of notes for the work. On a
whim, he googled “Wingmen Ensan Case,” and was stunned by the
book’s popularity, often called a classic gay romance. Lethe Press
is pleased to work with Mr. Case in keeping this book in-print.