From Morocco to Paris (13 page)

“This suits you,” Davey murmured.

Zane wore his djellaba, fastened only at the waist. He shifted, noticed the cigarette, and ground the butt out in the ashtray on the windowsill.

“So I’ve been told,” Zane said.

Davey roamed his hands lazily over Zane’s chest, over the djellaba, beneath the soft folds.

“I’ll miss this place too,” Zane said softly. “I’ve never been anywhere more beautiful.”

“Me either.” Davey’s warm breath seeped through the fabric over Zane’s shoulder.

Davey quit moving his hands and rested one lightly on Zane’s chest, over his heart. They were silent for a few minutes, the stillness broken only by the sound of the wind and the subdued noises of the midnight city.

“Davey,” Zane finally said softly. “I can’t do this, you know I can’t.”

“Why?” Davey asked, just as softly.

Zane felt panicked now, having his emotional barriers kicked down. “I’m too scared. Of the future. Of the past. I just…can’t. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. It was never supposed to go this far.”

“But it has.”

“But I can’t take it any further, Davey. Sex is fine, but things are getting complicated.” Even as he said these words, trying to make them sound confident, his heart twisted.

Davey was silent a moment then he said, “It doesn’t matter.” He rested his cheek on Zane’s shoulder, and his voice vibrated against his back. “You do what you need to, and I’ll endure it. I’m not asking anything of you.”

“That makes me a horribly selfish person. It’s not fair to you.”

“Unrequited love is as old as humanity.” Davey lifted his head and removed his hand from Zane’s chest. “You’re not doing anything that hasn’t been done by a million people before you.”

Zane tried to turn but Davey stopped him, playing with his hair.

“And people have gotten over it since the beginning of time,” Davey said. He tugged Zane’s hair gently and released him. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it.”

Zane turned and watched Davey walk back to the bed, his bed, watched him crawl under the covers.

“Davey, I just -- “

“Stop talking about it. Everything will be all right; I’ll make sure of it.”

The dull light through the windows glowed softly on Davey’s face, and he smiled before settling down. No invitation to come to bed, no entreaty. Simply a bare pillow and an open spot Zane could take or leave as he chose.

Zane stood at the window a while longer, not looking at the city but with his hand over his eyes, elbow resting on the wall. Tomorrow, Cairo and the end of their crazy, exotic romp, if he had any say. Soon he’d have his head about him again, concentrating on his work, concentrating on his education. Soon he could go back to sleeping alone, instead of crawling into bed with Davey.

PART TWO

Cairo: Shifting Sands

Cairo resembled Morocco in a key way -- a striking dichotomy of ancient majesty alongside modern chaos, a city both breathtakingly old and cutting-edge modern, sharp enough to make the casual visitor bleed. The streets were uncomfortably crowded, the traffic overwhelming anything Zane had ever seen in the States. The oppressive heat, combined with unrelenting human bedlam, made his head spin.

Most of the shooting was scheduled to take place twenty kilometers southwest of central Cairo near Giza, where the Battle of the Pyramids would be reenacted. Preparation had begun weeks before, and Saul hoped to have the area ready for filming by the time they arrived. However, in a case of fate ignoring the plans of mere mortals, setbacks and delays in shipping and set building saw the area a week or two from completion when they arrived. Saul had use of a studio in downtown Cairo, so while he waited he cobbled together several scenes and got them in the can. Zane admired how he rearranged things so no valuable time was lost. He took thorough notes and tried to get as much face time with the director as he could.

However, with little work for Elliot -- meaning little work for Zane -- sightseeing took up large portions of the day. There were amazing museums, markets, and palaces to visit, not to mention the pyramids. There were also fabulous bars and clubs and plenty of people to join Zane in touring them. Davey, however, wasn’t one of those people.

From the moment they arrived in Cairo, and even before, Davey began distancing himself from Zane. Zane wasn’t sure if Davey was embarrassed, angry, or simply decided to “get over it” as he’d said. Zane didn’t ask questions. Probably better for both of them.

So why then did Zane feel like he’d lost his best friend? Or at least, a partner in crime?

Even others noticed Davey no longer played the part of Zane’s shadow. Rory had mysteriously latched onto Zane and Zane allowed the interest, because being friends with Rory got him closer to Saul.

Over breakfast one morning, Rory asked, “Where’s your better half? Did you have a fight?”

“How should I know where he is?” Zane replied testily from behind his paper -- some of the articles were in English. “It’s not my fucking turn to baby sit him.”

Afterward, Zane forced himself to get over his irritation and asked out the girl from the camera crew who’d told him the djellaba suited him. Her name was Stephanie.

“She’s hot,” Elliot told Zane, while they were shopping in a souk together
. “But you’re not gonna hit the town with Davey?”

“Why is everyone so fucking worried about Davey?” Once again, Zane was seeking out gifts for his family, though some jewelry had caught his eye. “When did I become his nanny?”

Elliot arched an eyebrow. “Lovers’ spat?”

“Very funny. Why don’t you go find Cristiano? I’m sure he appreciates your humor.”

“I’m looking for a gift for him, actually,” Elliot said and leaned over a jewelry case. “Oh, that’s a nice bracelet. You think he’d like that?”

“How should I know?”

“Hm, no. I think that’s more something for Davey. Don’t you agree? Kind of bold and sassy?”

Zane left him, hoping he got mugged.

Unexpectedly, the night Zane took Stephanie out, he ran into Davey. They’d gone to Africana, a club famous for both an eclectic mix of patrons and dancing. A bunch of people from the film showed up there as well. Davey wore hip-hugging jeans and a slinky red shirt showing off his stomach, hair pulled back and his sun-bronzed skin darker in the low light.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Zane said, after nearly running into him on the way to the bar.

“Why would you?” Davey looked impatient to get past him. He held two glasses. “You just saw me.”

“I saw some of the others,” Zane said and looked around. For some reason he didn’t want to step aside and let Davey pass. “Great club, huh?”

“It’s all right,” Davey said. They were talking loudly to be heard over the music, but Davey’s voice sounded flat and forced. He looked around, his gaze never meeting Zane’s face. “I gotta get back to the table.”

Zane looked down at the glasses and counted again. One, two. One, two.

“Oh, you’re here with somebody?” Zane asked.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

Davey moved around him and breezed off, disappearing into the crowd. Zane watched him go, supposing this was exactly what he deserved. The knowledge didn’t make him feel any less like a fool, however.

Zane went to the bar and ordered drinks for himself and Stephanie. He planned to ply her with a few beers and some conversation and then let his masculinity out to dance around -- it already bounced gleefully in his head, eager to smell the open air again. His father told him he was doing the right thing, finally getting back on the straight and narrow.

The night had been officially ruined though, and Zane didn’t even realize until he sat at the table in front of a nearly-full drink, brooding over Davey more than listening to Stephanie talk. A hurt little boy sat slumped in his stomach, whining and demanding to know why Davey had to be so mean. Not that it mattered -- why should it?
Cause you didn’t do anything that bad to him, the jerk! You were honest with him! That’s noble!
Yes,
that.
He didn’t do anything to deserve being snubbed, and Zane had every right to be ticked off at Davey giving him the cold shoulder. He was only trying to spare Davey’s feelings and not let him end up broken hearted.

Zane excused himself, got up, and headed to the bathroom, scanning the crowded club as he weaved around tables and people. Maybe Davey left already.

He tried to think about Stephanie. Stephanie, who had a low-cut top on and laughed at his jokes. Stephanie, with her pretty, shiny pink eye shadow and blond curls. She smelled nice, too.

Coming back from the bathroom, thinking about peeks of Stephanie’s pink bra, he saw Davey. He sat at a table near the dance floor, leaning forward in his chair and talking to someone, a young man with shaggy blond hair. After a moment, Zane remembered him as one of the extras. He looked enamored with Davey, his eyes as wide and bright as his huge smile. Their faces were so close Zane thought they might kiss. Zane had the sudden urge to run over and push them apart and warn Davey homosexual overtures in public would get him imprisoned in Cairo.
A valid excuse to intervene, right?

“I’m not feeling very well,” he told Stephanie when he got back to the table, his hand on his stomach. Indeed, he thought he might throw up. “I think it’s all the different foods lately. Or the water.”

Stephanie fussed over him and offered to drive him back to the hotel. He let her, only because his hands wouldn’t uncurl from the fists they were in.

She left him at his room with proper regrets expressed by both parties, but somehow he ended up back downstairs in the lobby, sitting on a couch and staring at the doors. Maybe Davey wouldn’t come back that night. Maybe he’d never come back. Maybe he had gotten arrested. Zane’s mind began a vicious argument with itself, and he worried after a while someone would actually see his head throbbing.

What’s all this about?
a sour, surly voice sneered from one side.
What are you so fucking upset about? Because your fuck buddy has someone new to fuck?

It’s just the principle of the thing
, a softer, more reasonable voice spoke from the other side.
We didn’t do anything cruel to him, we didn’t mock him or make him feel like shit. Why does he pointedly have to make us feel like shit?

You’re just a jealous fool
, the other voice cajoled.

I’m not jealous! What do I have to be jealous about? He’s the one that’s so damn smitten with me, not the other way around!
His own voice had jumped into the mix.

Oh, you could have handled it
, the taunting voice sneered back.
You could have taken it on the chin and turned your back…

If it was anything but another man
, the soft voice whispered regretfully.

Zane rubbed his hands over his face. The desk clerk looked up, then back down at the desk. Did he
look
crazy as well?

He got up, went outside, and smoked a cigarette outside the lobby doors. The carport ceiling hovered high above him, the space echoing and airy. He had a hole in his chest, and no matter how much smoke he sucked in, the void wouldn’t fill up.

He went back inside and checked the clock. Just after midnight. He wondered how long the hotel restaurant stayed open. While pondering this, the door behind him opened, a warm gust of air hitting his back. He turned and looked and his stomach lurched when he saw Davey -- alone, looking tired. He stopped short when he saw Zane. Zane stared at him, and Davey stared back.

Zane grew angry -- angry for the way he felt, the way Davey made him feel. Angry that Davey had ruined his evening, however inadvertently.

“Hey,” Davey said and resumed walking, making to move past him. “What are you doing down here?”

“Just came back from the bar,” Zane said and turned to follow him.

“Oh. Good night, then.”

“Wait a fucking minute!” The desk clerk looked up. Zane lowered his voice, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” Davey blinked owlishly. “Didn’t know I had one. I was just going up to my room to crash.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Zane told himself not to seethe, not to act stupid. “You haven’t said a complete sentence to me since we got here. You’re always running off!” He gestured toward the elevators.

Davey stood silent for a moment. Zane could see him choosing his words.

“Sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” Davey said.

“Yeah, and I know what.” Zane lowered his voice more, stepping closer. “You lied to me. All that shit about ‘it’s all right, I’ll get over it, don’t worry about it.’ You put on a front, but you’re really dying inside, that’s why you’re trying to punish me.”

Davey’s placid expression changed. Anger replaced indifference, his eyes clouding and darkening. He got up in Zane’s face, close enough Zane felt his breath as he spoke, low and scathing.

“I’m not the one with the fucking problem. How many times have I told you, reassured you every time you get anxious for no damn good reason, that I don’t want anything from you? How many times have I had to pet you and calm you down, but you just get fucking bent out of shape again? I don’t want
anything
from you. Do you understand that? I’m not asking you for anything!”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re giving me the silent treatment? That’s why you’re ignoring me and trying to make me feel like an asshole? You’re manipulating me!”

“I’m not
manipulating
you!” Davey stepped back. “I can’t believe this. First you’re upset I won’t leave you alone, now you’re pissed off because I am!”

“I never told you to stay away from me!” Zane got loud again, and the desk clerk anxiously looked over. “When did I ever fucking tell you to leave me alone?”

“Oh God,” Davey said and waved a hand. “I’m letting you go, Zane. Why can’t you do the same?”

Davey turned and stalked toward the elevators. Zane stared after him, incredulous. The voices started yammering in his head again and he quickly followed.

“Hey!” Zane grabbed his arm as they reached the elevators.

Davey wrenched away, glaring. “Don’t be a fucking drama queen, Zane!”

Zane stayed by the elevators with him, intending to get on, because he had more to say. Davey pounded on the button and tried to push him back when the doors opened, but Zane got inside anyway. Davey gave a disgusted sigh.

“You’re making a huge fucking scene,” Davey said. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, Zane standing on the opposite side of the elevator, arms also crossed.

“I’m not letting you get away until you tell me why you’re acting like such a prick,” Zane said.

“I’m not the one acting like a prick. You’re the one who has a problem with me leaving you alone.”

“I never told you to leave me alone!”

“What does it matter? Why do you give a fuck if I’m around or not? You never did before!”

“Because you’re my friend! Whether we’re fucking or not, you’re still my friend. You can’t just discard me like that. If you do, you’re an asshole!”

“I have done nothing but spare you,
friend
. I’ve kept you from being inconvenienced or put out. Isn’t that what a friend does? I never tried to smother you, or make you have feelings for me! I never asked you to love me! I’ve been the best friend you could ask for. How dare you stand here now and tell me I’m the one being a selfish, thoughtless prick!”

“You haven’t spared me a moment since you met me! You never let up!”

“Now I am!” Davey yelled, face livid, eyes burning. “Why won’t you let me go!”

Zane stepped forward, grabbed Davey’s face, and kissed him soundly; kissed him hard, lips smashed against Davey’s, gripping his face tightly, so tightly Zane trembled. Then he let go. Davey’s lips were bright red, his eyes wide.

“Just because I don’t love you, doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you,” Zane said softly.

Davey stared at him a moment, breathing hitched, then he paused, not breathing at all. A second later, he hauled off and punched Zane in the chest, making him gasp and stumble back.

“Ow! What the
fuck
was that for!”

“Prick,” Davey whispered, withdrawing to his side of the elevator. “Figured you needed a punch to the heart as well.”

They were silent, Davey leaning against his wall, gnawing at his thumbnail and glaring at the floor. Zane rubbed his chest, gritting his teeth. The numbers above the door lit up one by one, until the elevator came to a halt. The doors opened.

Davey stepped through them and out into the hallway. He stopped and looked back. Zane held his breath. Davey motioned for him to follow, and Zane didn’t know if that meant he wanted him to come to his room, if all had been forgiven -- or just declared even -- but he acquiesced. They strolled slowly down the hallway, side by side, reminding Zane of their last day in Marrakech. They were silent, until Davey spoke.