Saying Goodbye (10 page)

Steve sat in the kitchen
area of the mansion,
near the win
dow, his coffee cold in his mug. He was
staring out at the pool and stable beyond. Most of the men were able to sleep once Mark left, but not him. Jack and Adam returned to the room to rest, but Steve imagined they were not sleeping, maybe talking about things.

He looked at his knuckles. He had done a good job on himself. They were bright red and peeled, bloody, raw…

The urge to take flight from the mansion to find Mark had waned. Jack was right. Mark needed time to cool off. And Steve needed to think about why he had gone to investigate Randy.

Why indeed.

Oh, Alexander
…
why did you come into our lives?

Right from the beginning, that
sex-
crazed nymph was out for cock. His, Jack’s, Billy’s, Mickey
’s
, Jeff
’s
…

At eighteen Alex was incorrigible, leaping on them, lip-locked, groping. He got Jack to jerk him off. How? Jack pleaded the fifth. They were all slightly stunned to see a young Mark clone appear on their doorstep.

Each man seemed to have their own reason for craving Alexander.

Jack had been denied Mark at that age. So? Was that his excuse? Trying to have Mark when Mark gave Jack the worst case of blue-balls in gay m
ale
history?

There was no malice here. No revenge. No intent to harm Mark.

It was simply a matter of Alex’s appeal. Sexual appeal.

Alex in bed. Who knew what the young man was like in the sack?

Mark was not voraciously mad for sex. Yes, he liked it. Was very happy to accommodate their four-way trysts on the weekends, enjoyed being tied up, playfully whipped. Mark loved dildos up his butt
, the bigger the better
…
but Mark did not have Alex’s libido.

Did Mark at twenty? Steve would never know. He met Mark when Mark was a mature man, working in advertising at Parsons and Company. Had he and Mark started off on the right foot? No. Not by a long shot. They were competitors for a big account.

And he couldn’t
speak
for Mark, but Steve had never touched a man sexually before he and Mark screwed around in the desert in New Mexico. Mark swore he and Jack never had sex even though Jack was an out gay man, strikingly beautiful, and madly in love with Mark.

Eventually Steve believed it. Jack was so uptight and jealous once Steve and Mark hooked up, yes, Steve actually believed Mark may have been
too
terrified to act on his gay impulse, from
fear of
that bastard of a father he had, that the touch of another man’s cock was a first for him
,
too.

That crazy night.

Steve remembered every moment of it.

Mark’s beauty. How he fell hard for him. So hard.

That outrageous flirting Mark did when he found out Steve was a cop. Was
…
used to be.

Steve smiled at the memory of Mark craving
to be
patted down, always begging for the role play
ing
.

He took a sip of his cool coffee. Still, no one stirred in the house. It was only six a.m.

Then came Alexander.

Mark had tried to commit suicide because he thought Steve would leave him for Alex. Another night Steve would never forget. Mark was so insecure no amount of adoration would cure him.

No therapy, no pills, nothing.

But Steve was indeed guilty. Guilty of wanting to get on his knees and suck and fuck that nymph. H
e h
ad gone for a run with Alex, only to have Alex lunge for him and kiss him on the lips. Secrets. Dirty little secrets.

Would he fuck Alex if he knew he would never-ever get caught?

Steve set the mug down and stared at the sky
,
which was beginning to get light. Dawn. Though they had planned to stay until tomorrow night, Steve was going home today.

Yes
.

Steve knew, if he could have Alex alone on a desert
ed
island, and no one would ever find out? Yes.

Did that make him a terrible man?

In Mark’s eyes, it did.

It wasn’t rocket science. Steve wanted to find out about Randy because he loved Alexander. Was he ‘in love’ with Alex? No. He was ‘in love’, truly, madly, deeply, with Mark.

The sex with Alex would be just to see
…
to see what that crazy fucker was like in the sack. That’s all. Steve did not want Alex as a partner. No. He wanted Mark. He married Mark.

A noise behind him made him look over his shoulder. Jack, looking rough as hell, unshaven
,
and in a pair of jeans and sweatshirt, poured a cup
of
coffee
from the
pot and joined Steve at the table.

“Did you get back to sleep?” Steve asked.

“No. I think Adam did.” Jack blew on the coffee. “We’re going back today, but Ewan said the boys could stay and play
until tomorrow
.”

Steve nodded. He figured the same thing.

“Have you tried to call Mark?” Jack asked, his eyes appearing red and worn out.

“No. I left him alone, like you suggested.”

Jack nodded, holding the cup, but not drinking from it. Steam swirled over the top of it. “He’s right, you know. About us and Alex.”

“I know.” Steve glanced over his shoulder but he and Jack were alone.

A low exhale came from Jack. “I used it as an excuse. Saying I missed Mark as a youth. It’s only a half-truth.”

Steve stared into Jack’s blue eyes. They rarely spoke this way. Jack seemed always guarded, maybe angry at Steve
for
getting Mark to marry him. Not now.

“I just wanted that fucker to devour me.” Jack echoed Steve’s thoughts. “
He fucked porn stars, tattooed bikers
…
Jesus Christ.”

Steve shifted on the chair, not wanting the thought to give him an erection. “I know.”

Jack sipped the coffee and met Steve’s gaze. “Like
,
if I had one night to do it, I’d see it was no big deal, and that would be it.”

Steve let out a low chuckle but did not say what he was thinking, since it was exactly what Jack was thinking.

“But
…
we’re married men.” Jack looked out of the window again. “And even with these rings,” he held his up, “we have quite an open relationship, us four.”

Steve nodded. He could not disagree.

“And there’s Mark and Billy to consider. Not even counting Adam’s feelings.” Jack blew on the coffee. “So? I’m pining over a pipe dream, and the reality of Alex in bed may never meet my expectations.”

Steve rubbed his rough jaw.

“All we’ve succeeded in doing is making Mark miserable.”

“He’s so fucking smart. I sometimes think of him
like he’s
a dumb b
imbo
since he’s so pretty, but that’s so pathetic
. So much underestimating Mark’s intelligence and intuitiveness.”

“The guy was an honor student at Stanford. Four-Oh, Steve. He’s brilliant. Don’t mistake his self-doubt for stupidity.”

Steve nodded again, staring into his cold coffee cup. “I’m the stupid one. Fucking military, being a cop
…
lucky to get the job at Parsons. He’s so far above me, it’s sad. Like, he can do so much better than me. I should be grateful.” Steve made a noise in his throat. “I am grateful. I look at him sleeping beside me knowing every fucker in the world wishes they were me.”

He felt a touch to his cheek. Steve looked up and met Jack’s smile. “He adores you. So much.”

“And you. You were his rock. It’s like each of us gives Mark what he needs in some way.”

Jack went back to
sipping
his coffee, staring out of the window as the sun began brightening up the landscape.

“What do we do now?” Steve asked.

“I think the Randy Dawson thing is our biggest obstacle.”

Steve clenched his fists.

Jack pointed to the act. “That. Right there.”

Steve began to huff for breath as his temper rose.

Jack shook his head. “You gotta get the fuck over it. If you don’t, you won’t let Mark. And he’s the one who got fucked.”

Steve went crazy and threw the mug against a wall, smashing it.

“Steve.” Jack reached for his forearm.

Steve was breathing fire. “How?” He clenched every muscle in his body. “How do I get over it without killing him?”

“For Mark. You have to. You know I feel the same way. Adam is livid. He kept up the ‘oh, the guy is straight’ bullshit, and now feels betrayed.”

Steve fought to calm down, imagining tearing things apart. He kept clenching his fists.

“Imagine if Billy found out?” Jack whispered.

Steve met Jack’s gaze immediately.
“Why would Billy care?”

“Come on.” Jack made a sarcastic noise and sipped his coffee.

Steve grabbed Jack’s shirt over the table, and dragged Jack closer. He snarled, “Why would Billy care if Mark fucked Randy?”

Jack shoved Steve’s hands off his shirt and shook his head. “You’re right. You are the stupid one.” Jack stood and left the room.

Steve looked at the broken mug he had thrown and covered his face in agony.

~

Billy had the day off. He was a captain. He could decide his
shift
hours. And they were Monday through Friday.

He slept until seven, checked to see if Alex
was on
line,
and
then changed into his running outfit. In a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt, Billy sat on his front stoop and tied his running shoes, pocketing his key, and stretching his arms over his head. He took off at a slow plod to warm up
,
and though it was chilly for the early California morning, he knew his workout would heat him up quickly.

He had a set path to run, and on the weekends did slightly more. A loop, four miles
long
. It was enough coupled with the weight training and kicking bag at the police gym. The fact he could not contact Alex was driving him crazy. He got a voicemail late last night and all it said was his name. ‘
Billy
,’ that was it.

What was he supposed to surmise from that?
Billy, I’m fucking my co-star? Billy, I’ve had three-way sex with two Italian studs?’

He grew weary of being unable to see Alex on the computer’s video camera, tired of reading about his playing in Rome with the local cast and crew. His fury was just burning out to
exhaustion
.

He increased his speed as his muscles warmed up and spotted a black stretch limousine pulling in front of Mark and Steve’s home, which was only a few blocks from his and Alex’s.

Billy was confused since he knew the gang was in Paradise partying at Mark’s mother’s
old
estate with Adam’s client, Ewan.

As the driver stepped out of the car and opened the back door, Billy slowed down his pace and then stopped.

Mark climbed out of the back of the car.

Billy waited to see Steve, maybe even Jack and Adam.

Mark thanked the driver for his bag, which was small and had a shoulder strap. Mark tucked cash into the man’s hand and began his walk up the driveway. Alone.

Billy jogged over as the car left.

Mark was startled then his expression relaxed.

“What are you doing home?” Billy hadn’t even broken a sweat yet.

“Don’t ask.” Mark sorted through his house keys.

“Being at the estate too much?” Billy followed Mark to the front door.

Mark opened it, put the code into the alarm box and tossed his bag inside. “I’m shattered but you’re welcome to come in.”

“I don’t want to impose.” Billy pointed behind him. “I just started my route.”

Mark nodded, frowning.

“Have you heard from Alex?” Billy asked, hands on hips. “All I got was my name from him last night on voicemail.”

“He
rang
me up at three a.m. in tears.” Mark looked out at the street. “Come in. No sense in standing in the cold.”

Billy stepped into the house as Mark turned on a few lights and took off his jacket.

“So,” Billy asked, “He called you at three…”

“He was a mess.” Mark draped his jacket over a chair and ran his hand through his hair. “The schedule is grueling.”

Billy liked the way Mark said, schedule, like ‘shedule’.
“And?”

“And
…
he’s a young boy alone in Rome and needed you. When he couldn’t get you, he called his dad.” Mark removed a bottle of water out of the fridge. He offered one to Billy, but Billy declined. Mark twisted the cap and drank it. “He’s really out of his element, Billy. I mean, going from a silly vampire drama to a George Ford film.”

Billy nodded. “So, you don’t think he’s fucking around?”

“No. Honestly. No. He’s so over his head. He’s just an insecure mess. I have no idea what these big films are like. Poor baby.”
Mark
relaxed
on the sofa in the living room.

Billy sat on the loveseat adjacent to it. “That’s the reason you left Paradise?”

Mark’s expression darkened.

“Mark,” Billy scooted closer as he spoke, “What happened?”

Mark seemed to disintegrate and could not meet Billy’s eyes.

Billy sat beside Mark on the sofa. “The house. Right? I know what the memories of that place do to you. How could Adam drag you there?”