Date: Wed, 5 Jul 2000 14:27:25 -0700 (PDT)
From: John Young <john_young00@yahoo.com>
Subject: Buddies 2
DISCLAIMER
This is my first attempt at writing a long piece of erotic gay fiction. If
you are not of legal age to view this material please don't. If you are
offended by male-male relationships, please don't proceed further. All
characters, plots, events etc are purely imaginary and any resemblance to
anything living or dead is regretted. Please do not distribute without my
permission.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This is a continuation from Part I. Thanks go to everyone who has written
to let me know they enjoy the story. It's most gratifying. I have found
quite a number of phrasing and grammatical errors in the first
installation, after it was posted. I apologize if these had made reading
the story difficult. The ending to the first part wasn't an intentional
cliff-hanger, it just seemed like a good place to stop. I was in a dilemma
over how many chapters I should include in this part. My first thought was
8 but I figured 12 was better. Oh another thing, I have gotten lazy and
used 'Coming Out' in the last few chapters. It's trite but I figured
sometimes the most commonplace things are the best.
Comments and constructive suggestions are welcomed at john_young00@yahoo.com
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
BUDDIES
CHAPTER 1 (THE AWAKENING)
I tried to open my eyes wide open but could barely lift them more than
an inch. I feebly grasped the bed-sheets as I exerted all of my remaining
strength to try again. Someone held my hand and gently pat it. A strong and
rough hand that belonged to a man.
"Welcome back, JB," the same person who held my hand said. That name
sounded familiar, was it mine?
I had to strain to get a good look at the man and suddenly my head felt
like it was splitting open with the effort.
"Who...? Where...?" I croaked, even my voice sounded weak and foreign
to me.
"Don't worry, everything's going to be just fine," the stranger
promised.
"Now go back to sleep," he said.
I gulped and complied.
**************
Marcus could hardly contain his joy. Two years and months of agony,
waiting for his lover to speak and now his prayers have been answered. He
gazed tenderly at the man resting on the bed, emotions choking his
throat. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, he turned and saw Jason. Behind
Jason was Betty, his ex-wife. She had flew in from Thailand on a business
trip with her husband. Marcus smiled, a trembling smile that lit his somber
face.
"Did you see, Jason? He spoke to me! Jonathan's awake!" Marcus cried,
unable to contain his happiness anymore.
"Yes I did, Marc," Jason grinned, tears in his eyes as well.
"I'm so happy for you," Betty said, beaming at Marcus. But the smile
was too polite, like it was pasted on.
"But don't get your hopes up yet," the doctor in charge reminded the
group.
"He was fortunate enough to survive the slash on his neck because the
wound was off and not deep enough. But we are not certain that there are no
side effects from the blow to his head," the doctor peered at the record in
his hand.
"You mentioned the hit wasn't deadly, Ben," Jason meant it as a
question.
"What exactly are we looking at here?" Marcus scowled, still holding
Jonathan's hand.
"Mild concussion. Temporary amnesia," Benjamin answered, jotting down
something on the record.
"But it will pass," he assured.
Marcus's scowl darkened and Jason rolled his eyes in disgust. Betty was
smiling.
**************
I blinked my eyes as a glaring ray of light blinded my vision
momentarily. The windows of the ward was ajar and before each were
clusters of flowers. Bright red roses, crimson pink carnations, snow white
lilies and there were even spurious dashes of ferns and forget-me-nots. Had
it not been the smell of disinfectants, I would have thought I was in a
garden. I had just realized how immense the room was before it hit me that
this place could easily hold ten patients.
"How are you feeling today?" the stranger asked. He wasn't pretty, more
on the rugged side like a cowboy, but there was something charming and
sweet about him that sent my heart pounding feverishly whenever he was
near. I was already starting to feel breathless.
"Tired," I answered truthfully not daring to look at those bewitching
gray eyes of his lest he noticed my discomfort.
"Why do you feel so unsettled by my presence?" he smilingly asked,
flashing a devastating grin at me. Apparently, my tactic didn't work. He
seemed to be able to guess accurately everything that went through my mind.
"Suppose you tell me why?" I asked instead. I didn't know where that
came from but it sounded right for the occasion.
He chuckled and softly caressed my cheeks leaving behind searing flesh.
"I missed your wit, JB" he said.
"Why are you forever calling me JB? Is that my name?" I questioned. I
could only remember being mugged by someone and everything before that was
a blur.
"Cos' your name's Jonathan Bancroft. I thought JB seemed less
threatening," he pulled a chair and sat down beside the bed.
"I am? Not Mr. Forgetful or something?" I looked at him quizzically.
He shook his head and laughed. Just then, a male nurse entered the
ward. I recognized him as my personal assistant for my physiotherapy
sessions and gingerly sat up, pushing my hands against the bed for
leverage. It was difficult for my hands were still weak after months of
inactivity and I failed a few times before the stranger who called himself
Marcus, aided me.
"Thanks," I said.
The nurse was already reaching for me when Marcus stopped him.
"I'll do it," Marcus ordered coldly. The nurse flinched and backed
away. Weird, why did he do that? There was no reason for the nurse to be
this terrified of Marcus. He was the same size and equal in physique but
why did he behave like a mouse before Marcus? Marcus wasn't even fearful at
all.
Marcus shrugged out of his black coat, loosened his tie and bent over,
lifting me out of the bed with both his hands. I noticed silky patches of
brown hair covering the forearms and that he wore an intoxicating blend of
cologne that smelt like fresh winter with a tinge of spice. My hands were
already entwined around his neck before I hastily drew them away. That was
insane. Why did I do that? But it had felt right, as if I used to do
this. My heart was beating even faster than before and I suspected his too
because for the brief moment our chests had pressed close against each
other, I had felt his heartbeat quickened.
"Don't try to seduce me or we may just miss your sessions," he joked,
confirming my thoughts.
For the rest of the way, I kept my hands wrapped around my middle. He
held me like an infant, resting my head against his left arm while grabbing
my buttocks with the right. He could have stopped when we neared the door
of the ward because a wheelchair was waiting but he insisted on carrying me
to the physiotherapy room. It did seem odd to me that there was hardly a
wandering doctor or nurse in sight and that several men and women dressed
like federal agents were posted along the corridor. Probably none of the
rooms were occupied either else there would have been patients around. And
everybody stood rigidly at attention when they saw Marcus.
"Are you the President of some country?" I decided to probe when we
took the lift. There was a stony face man in a gray suit wearing a
ear-piece with us, who stood by the panels. He punched the number of the
floor, oblivious to our conversation. I wondered if he was deaf.
"Nope," Marcus's lips twitched.
"Stop that. I'm serious. Who are you? And why are you being so kind to
me? Are we related?" I asked, not wanting to delay anymore. The
psychiatrist had said I would gradually regain my memory but it had been
two weeks already and I was not progressing at all. The lady shrink had
refused to tell me about my relationship with Marcus but I knew it must
complicated.
"I'm your boyfriend," he answered, looking tenderly at me.
"Boyfriend? As in friend who is a boy? Or are you saying I'm gay?" It
hadn't strike me then the solemnity with which he said those words else I
wouldn't have inquired with such flippancy.
"No. As in your lover which means we are both gay," he said with the
patience of a parent teaching a child.
"Cool," I paused thinking that wasn't quite the phrase to use, "So how
did we meet and did we have sex?"
He burst out laughing. "God, you are outrageous," Marcus said.
I grinned at him. Something nagged at me, a fragment of my lost memory.
"Was loving you a bad thing?" I frowned.
"Why do you say that?" there was a sadness in Marcus's voice.
"I'm not sure. I remember coming out to my parents and that I cried a
lot. I tried to think about when we first met and......" I clutched my head
in pain as if suddenly pierced by a thousand pointed needles.
"Baby what's wrong?" he asked, hoisting me and pressing his face a few
centimeters away from mine, scrutinizing my features in a panic.
"Hurts," I mouthed the single word in between the overwhelming pain.
"Get me Doctor Benjamin and prepare a bed in the physiotherapy room,"
Marcus commanded and the bodyguard in the lift with us nodded, immediately
speaking into the small microphone that was attached to the collar of his
shirt.
"I'm going to be okay in awhile," I said weakly, rubbing my head with
my hands and willing the pain to subside.
"Don't argue with me JB, please," he begged and I was too shocked by
the intense fear on his face to say anything more.
**************
"How is he?" Marcus glared at Doctor Benjamin and the consort of
doctors in the room.
"He is starting to build up his hand and leg muscles, it shouldn't be
long before he can walk and perform simple everyday activities," one of the
doctors said. He specialized in physiotherapy. Marcus had employed several
doctors of different specialization to treat Jonathan's condition.
"Tell me something else. I want to know why he complained about a
headache just now," Marcus snapped.
Benjamin flipped through the record and after a thoughtful silence
said, "He is beginning to remember things that's why the occasional bouts
of headaches. This is a good sign but we need to do more to stimulate his
brain."
"Such as?" Marcus questioned, gritting his teeth while the old man took
his time to answer. He would have fired the man if he wasn't the leading
authority on comatose patients. Marcus was still bearing a grudge at him
for withholding information about the possibility of amnesia.
"Familiar environment and people. Things he liked to do. Favorite
songs" Benjamin replied.
"He can be discharged immediately after he can walk by himself again if
you like," Benjamin provided.
"I will hold you to your word, Doctor Benjamin," Marcus said, his tone
hinting at violent retaliations should the doctor's words turned out to be
lies.
**************
"Have you seen the boss's boyfriend before?" Veronica asked as she
checked the list of items so as not to miss out on anything.
"Yeah, once at the boss's villa. But that was a long time ago,"
Samantha replied as she paged through the phone directory looking for a
large stationary house that was willing to provide supplies of oil paints
and canvass on a monthly basis. The boss had demanded to have only the best
and price was no problem.
"He is a painter of some sort. But then his pictures were printed
everywhere back then during the scandal so you must know what he looks
like," Samantha jot down a name and continued thumbing through the book.
"I know but it isn't the same as seeing him in person. I would have
been at the villa to help if it were not for my pregnancy. Anyway he must
have changed a lot after all these years," Veronica went through the list
one more time to ensure she had gotten everything. The flowers were on the
way, the caterers were already at the new mansion and the master bedroom
was redecorated in shades of blue, the boss's boyfriend's favorite
color. She had even ordered silver candles to be placed in the room just to
create a comforting ambience.
"Probably but at least it was a blessing that he was back. Boss seems a
lot more jovial lately considering he actually smiled during our meeting
yesterday," that comment caused both women to snicker.
Luckily they were convening inside Samantha's office else the
consequences would have been disastrous. If some clerk or office boy had
heard it and unknowingly told a reporter, the press would have seized the
chance and created a big fuss. It was already the talk of the city when the
boss did not invite any press to the house-warming party, considering it
was such a sought after event. What would have happened if they knew
Jonathan was to be at the party as well? Only the Strategic Division team
knew about the arrangement.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in," Samantha said.
Betty sashayed into the room. She was wearing a pair of checkered
pants, a blouse and a matching checkered jacket.
"Hi ladies," she said.
"Hey you," Veronica stood up and hugged her.
"Whatcha' all doing?" she asked and sauntered over to peer at the
papers.
"Just looking up some stuff and preparing for the party tonight,"
Veronica closed her organizer and saw that Samantha had done the same. Even
though Betty was a good friend, she was still the ex-wife of the boss and
she almost succeeded in ruining him, Veronica thought.
"It's going to be a smashing party, I'm sure," Betty gaily predicted.
"So to what do we owe the honor of your presence?" Veronica joked,
Samantha had picked up a file and was adjusting the paying rate for each
employee man-hour. She was going to propose for a raise across the board at
the next meeting.
"Just wanted to see if you girls want to join me for lunch." Betty
said.
"Sounds good to me," Veronica agreed.
"Count me out," Samantha said. She never liked the woman. There was
something false and peculiar about her, but she couldn't pinpoint what. She
had spoken to Marcus about this and warned him to be more careful around
her.
"See you at the restaurant just across the street then," Betty waved
and left.
**************
"I need to go to the ladies, be back in awhile. I will settle the bill
if you need to leave first," Veronica apologized.
"No problem, I think I will stay," Betty assured her. She made sure
that Veronica was safely out of sight before she fumbled through Veronica's
handbag and retrieved the organizer. Frantically, she peeked at the
contents and her hands shivered when she confirmed her suspicions. That
faggot was to return tonight. All these notes about blue paint, blue silk
and Jonathan's ride. It must be. She had to do something about it. She
wasn't about to let him pollute Marcus's soul.
CHAPTER 2 (REDEMPTION)
"Where are we going?" I asked, as Marcus pushed the wheelchair towards
the backdoor of the hospital. We had taken a detour because there was a
swarm of reporters at the main entrance, Marcus had explained. I supposed
it was expected since he must be a very important person.
"To our house," he whispered as he bent to kiss my ears.
"You don't have to kiss me every single minute," I chided, ignoring the
shocks of pleasure spreading through my body.
"Don't you like it?" he nibbled the sensitive lobe, slowing down the
wheelchair significantly.
"Oh you! Never mind just move," I gave up. He laughed all the way,
until we stood outside the limousine.
He carried me from the wheelchair and carefully laid me down in the
car. It wasn't necessary because I could walk in by myself but he had
insisted on it. The wheelchair was his idea as well. I had intended to
stagger slowly with the aid of a cane, but he had thrown the stick away,
dumped me into the seat and started to push.
"I'm right, you must be a politician or a senator," I concluded while
we sat in the car alone. A sound-proof window blocked our conversation from
the driver and bodyguard who sat in the front.
"Wrong," he grinned and covered my hands with his.
"Why can't you reveal your identity?" I grumbled.
"I already did. I am your boyfriend," he said.
"How nice. I don't know where you come from, whose your family and
where you stay. Worst of all, you never tell me what kind of job you are
involved in, except that everywhere you go, people scamper either out of
awe or fear, and you are constantly surrounded by bodyguards. And why in
the name of all that's holy," I paused, finding it strange that I never
swore even when I was very angry.
"Yes, you were saying?" his grin split even wider. What was wrong with
that man?!
"Do you think all this is amusing?!" I bit out indignantly, shooting
fires at him with my eyes.
"You know your eyes turn a gorgeous emerald when you are angry," he
complimented. I ignored the absurd pleasure his words evoked in me and
swerved around, looking out of the window, conveniently shutting him out.
He gently tilted my head around and said, "I come from Houston, I have
a father and you happen to be my family too. I own a large corporation and
as a result I have become a target for robbers and criminals. Hence the
need to employ bodyguards. I never notice people to fear me so I don't know
where are you coming from with that accusation."
"Fine. But why did you stop them from letting me read the news while I
was hospitalized? No television, no newspapers. Are you involved in drugs?"
I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
"The press can be very cruel and I don't want you to worry excessively
over what is printed. Most of it is nonsense. And no, I don't do drugs," he
explained.
"If you like, I can install a large television set in our room and you
can watch the news or anything that you wish," he promised. I couldn't
resist such an offer when he was being this sweet, so I accepted.
We sat in companionable silence. I snuggled close to him and rested my
head against his chest while he tousled my hair. Sometimes his hands would
wander and rubbed lightly against my back. I could feel his chest rose and
fell, quickening when I reached down to stroke the lower half of his body,
tittering close to his crotch. Finally the limousine came to a halt and
Marcus reluctantly pushed me away.
"Mr. Stone, do you still need my service tonight?" the driver asked as
he opened the door, the bodyguard, a towering man was already waiting
outside.
Marcus shook his head as he stepped out of the car and lifted me from
the seat. I covered my eyes with my hands, struggling to adjust to the
light. We were standing on the front porch of a magnificent three-storied
mansion, overlooking a vast garden. Tents topped with colorful flags stood
upon the expanse of green, intermingled with bushes of brightly colored
flowers and sculptures of Roman gods and goddesses. Servants dressed in
white and gold livery bustled about setting the tables with trays of
dishes, baskets of fruits and flowers.
"Are we having a tournament?" I suddenly felt like I had traveled back
into the middle ages.
"No," Marcus's lips quirked into a grin.
"A party?" He acknowledged with a nod.
"How gracious of you to let me know at the last minute? How much time
for me to make myself presentable? For your information, my movements are
still rather restricted at the moment," I uttered, my voice laden with
sarcasm.
He pinched me on the nose and replied," It's a house-warming party
silly. And there is no need for you to change into anything if you don't
want to attend. I can stay with you in the room if you like. By the way,
you haven't told me whether you like our house or not."
I examined the mansion, marveling at the elaborate use of Greek styles
mixed with Chinese architecture. The balconies were enclosed with black
grills, skillfully crafted into the semblance of dragons and phoenixes
soaring in the air while Greek columns made up the supporting pillars of
the house.
"It's fair enough to be used as material for my paintings. I paint,
right?" I asked, confused that I had wanted to do a painting of the
place. I didn't know I could paint.
"Yes you do." he confirmed.
"Actually you should do a painting of the house, it will fetch a nice
price if you sold it to some art magazine," he laughingly said
"Why?" I stared at him bewildered. Why should a magazine be interested
in the work of an amateur like me? Or was I a professional artist
previously?
"Well, the media has written a lot about the place but does not have
any pictures to show. From the way they have described the place, I can't
believe you think it is just passable to be used as a subject for your
painting. But I should have known," his laughter grew even louder.
Some of the servants stopped dead in their tracks and gaped with awe at
what I just did. I smiled at them.
"Known what?" I yawned, the trip was starting to take its toll on me.
Marcus stopped to look at me with concern in his eyes.
"Sorry love, didn't mean to tire you out," he said.
I covered his neck with my arms as we entered the mansion.
**************
I awoke in an unfamiliar room. The windows were wide open and a cool
wind blew in, rustling the curtains. A hazy glow shrouded the place as a
low fire burnt in the electrical fireplace. I eased myself slowly to a
sitting position on the bed. My hands didn't tremble as much as it used
to. I pulled the heavy blanket closer till it covered my chest when I
realized that I was naked, wearing only a thin underwear. Someone opened
the door. >From the silhouette, it looked like a she.
"Who's there?" I asked. She didn't answer but just uncorked a bottle in
her hands.
"Who is it? Don't play games with me," I repeated the question, she
locked the door and advanced with frightening speed.
I tried to leap out of bed but my actions were still too clumsy and
fell onto the floor instead. She slid her arms around my neck and tried to
force a potent liquid down my throat. There was no way I could shout for
help and I twisted from left to right as best as I could. She was a
medium-sized woman, her arms were slender and I should have been able to
break out of her clutches. Unfortunately, I was still too weak after months
of inactivity on a bed and regardless of how hard I struggled, she managed
to hold me pinned to the floor.
A memory flashed through my mind of a similar night in the past. Out of
sheer fear, I flung my head back and collided into hers. I took advantage
of the dizziness that she was experiencing due to the impact of the blow
and levitated forward, choking and gasping for breath. I stumbled in the
direction of the door, crashing into the furniture and shattering several
statues and figurines. I almost made it to the door when she caught up with
me.
"Clever trick, I almost lost the entire bottle of rat poison. Luckily
there is still half of the concentrated mixture, which should be enough to
kill you," she uttered the words menacingly, trapping my throat in a vise
while pressing the foul-smelling potion on my lips. I clamped my mouth
shut, hoping to delay her but she tightened her grip causing me to
cough. She poured the scorching brew down my throat and my brain went
blank. This was it. And the images of the past started to rush back,
flooding my mind.
I collapsed onto the floor, writhing in pain, as the poison took
effect.
"Betty? What the hell!"
My mind registered the presence of another person in the room before I
passed out.
**************
Finally, she had done the deed. God help her but she was on a crusade
to save the innocent. The demon had to be vanquished. She would seek a
confession but she was certain the priest would forgive her. It was a pure
act carried out in the name of the almighty. Betty knew she was to be
released from the torment of Jeffrey's death for she had punished the
wicked. She cackled with hysteria. Free, free at last!
**************
Marcus stood frozen on the spot as a multitude of emotions warred inside
his head. Why Jonathan?! Why?! He wanted to strangle, mutilate, kill that
bitch sitting beside his boyfriend's motionless body, laughing
insanely. But he had something more important to do, he had to save
Jonathan first. He must.
"Baby, talk to me," he lifted Jonathan, shaking him. No
response. Jonathan was foaming around the mouth and blood was dripping from
his nose.
"Please, god no, not again. Please don't," he cried as he picked up
Jonathan and staggered out of the room. This time the tears flowed freely
for he could no longer contain them. He could not bear the thought of
losing Jonathan again. He would move heaven and earth to save his lover.
Downstairs in the lobby, guests were starting to arrive for the party.
The actual celebrations were held outside but it was customary for guests
to meet with the host in his house first. Everyone stared when they saw
him, bounding down the winding staircase in steps of two and three. Gabriel
turned, took a look at his son and ran for the phone.
"Allow me, I'm a doctor," an old man stepped forward from a crowd that
had started to gather. Marcus anxiously put Jonathan down after he skipped
over the last few steps and landed on the tiled mosaic floor. His eyes were
only on Jonathan's face and so failed to recognize the doctor.
"The ambulance is on its way," Gabriel said as he draped a comforting
arm over his son's shoulder. Marcus covered his face with his hands and
sobbed.
**************
I opened my eyes and felt the familiar sensations of tubes inserted
into my arms and nose. The beeping sound of the heartbeat monitoring
machine could be heard as it ticked away in regular intervals. I was back
in the hospital. Someone had tried to kill me again. A man's head was
resting beside my hand on the bed. I recognized him immediately as Marcus.
"Sto..ner" I said with difficulty.
The head snapped up with a jerk and I saw a haggard face staring at me,
his eyes puffy and swollen.
"I'm so sorry, JB," he croaked hoarsely.
I shook my head feebly to tell him it was not his fault.
"Noo..o" I stammered, my throat felt parched.
"Hush now. Baby, you should rest. Promise me," he filled a glass with
water, dipped his finger into it and wet my lips.
I sucked on the fluid thirstily and nodded.
CHAPTER 3 (TO FORGIVE, TO FORGET AND TO HEAL)
I looked up expectantly as Marcus strode across the ward. He was
wearing a polo shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. The doctors had said the
poison was flushed out of my system in the nick of time before it could
severely damage the internal organs. All I needed to recover was lots of
rest. Marcus was very attentive, visiting me frequently during the past few
weeks, each time bringing a new bouquet of roses and keeping me company,
talking about everything from work to what he had for breakfast. He knew
from the doctors I had regained my memory and filled me in on what had
happened during the period I was in a coma. However, today he was unusually
quiet and reserved.
"Hey," he greeted politely.
"Moody aren't we?" I joked, putting down the book I was reading. He
didn't smile.
"Bad day?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Great day actually. I just finished proof-reading
some contracts."
"You shouldn't be working over the weekend," I reminded him. He
shrugged.
"Okay. No flowers today?" I teased.
"No," he stared at his feet.
"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" I probed.
"Huh? Oh, nothing," he lied, pulling out a chair.
I waited while he sat down.
"Well there are a few things I came to say actually," he said, when he
realized I wasn't fooled.
"Betty was found guilty of murder yesterday but the judge had given her
a lighter sentence in view of her being emotional unstable over the lost of
her brother. She was placed under a rehabilitation program," he began,
tucking my hand under the covers, all the while not looking me straight in
the eye.
It was all outdated information. I had learnt from the news everything
about the trial. Betty's brother Jeffrey had just died due to complications
caused by the AIDS virus. She only knew he was gay on the day before he
died. He didn't know how he had contracted the disease since he flirted a
lot and freely had unsafe sex with strangers. She had blamed herself for
her brother's death and when she returned and saw Marcus deeply involved
with me, she had lost it. She didn't want Marcus to follow her brother's
footsteps. Her lawyer had pleaded emotional distress for her unusual
behavior.
"Do you hate her?" I inquired.
"Yes and I intend to make her pay. But what she had done had started me
thinking about things between us," Marcus replied.
"What things?" My brows narrowed in puzzlement.
"Remember the first time when you were attacked? You sent me a note
that enumerated the reasons why you were unsuitable for me and that we were
never meant to be? After this incident, I think you were correct but it was
the other way wrong. I'm not suitable for you."
"Why?" A sense of dread closed in on my heart. Was he serious?
"I almost killed you twice, caused you shame, put you through
tormenting pain, watched you grow weaker each day unable to do anything to
help and most important of all, I didn't have faith in you. I sucked as a
boyfriend and you are better off with somebody else," he said the words
like he was reading off from a script.
"I see. Apparently you have spent a lot of time thinking about this." I
mumbled. He didn't answer and simply sat there, clutching at the folds of
the covers.
"I have done some thinking of my own too. Since you have been so honest
with me, I will share them with you. I agree with you." That got his
attention.
"You are a lousy boyfriend. You shielded me as much as you could from
the vicious tongues of the reporters without asking for my permission. You
tried to save me after someone tried to take my life and then after that
you want us to break up. Even when I made you lose everything that you
owned, you stood by me. Oh you are heartless alright, you thought I
betrayed you but you had to help me so as to make me feel guilty," I said,
waiting for his reaction.
He stared at me incredulously, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"And not once have you told me you loved me," I scolded as hot tears
scalded my cheeks.
"Jonathan Anderson Bancroft, I love you with all my heart," he
professed, tenderly wiping away the tears on my face.
"Truly?" I asked, my lips trembling. He smiled and nodded, reached over
and pressed my head firmly against his shoulder. I could hear the pounding
of his blood and something damp landed on my face. I looked up to see him
tearing.
"That wasn't so difficult was it?" I turned my head to lick his neck.
"For someone who had spent the last few days, tortured with thoughts of
living without you, it was," he joked.
"Do you mind saying it again? I have been yearning to hear it since
that first night I was attacked and you held me in your arms," I sniffed.
"I love you. I maybe a terrific businessman but I'm not very eloquent
with words. You are the light in my soul," he said solemnly. My heart
swelled with pride. Those were the most beautiful words I have ever heard
and I told him that.
"You remembered what happened that night when you fought the assassin?"
"Bits and pieces of it," I replied.
"I didn't know you had the courage to fight the woman. I had wanted to
tease you about it after I subdued her, but......" he shuddered and I felt
the same waves of fear racking my body.
"It's over," I consoled him. I didn't know if I could forget that
unlucky night but I didn't want to compound Marcus's pain.
He nodded. "I was prepared to die with you then. After you woke up from
your coma, I was going to shelter you from all harm. When I again saw you
lying on the floor of our bedroom unmoving, I lost it completely. I wanted
to tear down the whole world just so you could live. Don't ever leave me
again," he shook violently.
"It's over, let it go baby," I repeated, willing myself to do the
same. It was a terrifying notion, to sacrifice the world for my life.
We sat there enjoying the simple pleasure of being together. I shifted
my head a few times due to the uncomfortable position. Marcus noticed my
discomfort, gently lifted my head and reclined it against a pillow.
"I don't believe I have ever cried so much before I met you, Stoner," I
said.
"And I have never experienced this much fear in my life before I met
you," he replied.
"I should thank Doctor Benjamin," he said.
"You don't bear a grudge against him for previously withholding the
truth of my condition?"
"Not when he saved your life after Betty tried to poison you. He may
not have been directly responsible for curing you but he did restore order
to the chaotic situation that night. I was a total mess and could not help
with anything," he admitted.
"I suppose this means you should forgive Betty too," I stated.
His eyes darkened as he said ruthlessly, "No, I intend to make her pay
dearly."
"Will you do it if I ask you to?" I tackled the issue from another
angle.
"Do you want to?"
"Yes," I said firmly.
He hesitated awhile. "Why?" I knew he wasn't going to relent this
easily.
"Because she was misguided. Imagine yourself in her position and that
her brother was me. If someone was there to comfort her and take away the
guilt she felt, I think none of this would have happened. Besides she have
been punished and we should give her a chance to repent," I explained.
"She tried to kill you," Marcus said, not convinced that it was a good
idea.
"To forgive someone is the greatest gift. Have faith, Stoner," I
preached.
"Who said that?" he asked, frowning.
"I did," I snickered.
"Imp," he teased.
"She's forgiven?"
"I can try," he answered truthfully. It was a small concession on his
part and proof of his immense ability to indulge me. I was touched.
"Don't even think about begging for the Kensingtons," he warned.
"I haven't thought about that. I can't say I pity Patricia but James
Kensington's an old man. Maybe..." he silenced me with his finger.
"No, JB."
I sucked his finger with my mouth, twirling my tongue along its length
while moving forth and back. Marcus's eyes turned a molten silver and his
jaw tightened. He heaved a sigh of ecstasy and pulled back his finger.
"JB give it up," he rolled his eyes as he saw through my ploy to soften
him through sexual excitement.
"It didn't hurt to try," I grinned mischievously.
"Maybe if you did this," he kissed me swiftly, leaving me gasping for
my breath.
"I need to get going," he mumbled and pushed away. I gazed dazedly at
him still consumed by euphoria.
"I see two can play at the same game," he chuckled. I blushed and was
slightly angry with his manipulations only to be pacified when he lightly
stroke me on the cheeks.
"I was joking," he smiled. "I really have to leave. I'm supposed to
meet Jason to discuss some business I have in Paris."
**************
Eliot didn't anticipate Jonathan to call him at his office. He was even
more surprised when Jonathan had requested for a one-to-one meeting with
him at the orphanage in Houston. It was with trepidation as he parked his
red Maserati outside the repainted building. Construction work was being
done to expand the eastern section of the orphanage and he could see
children playing in an enclosed playground with teachers watching them like
hawks. Marcus's generous donations had certainly brought much desired
changes to the place. An ancient-looking nun was resting on a rattan chair
beside the playground.
"Eliot Troy?" the nun called as she saw him approached the main
building.
Eliot blinked in surprise while the nun kept waving her hand in the air
for him to come forth. Eliot complied.
"Nice to meet you," Eliot greeted courteously. He didn't feel it was
polite to ask how she knew his name. Probably from the news or tabloids.
"I'm Sister Mary, Jonathan told me you were coming to visit," she
smiled at him. Eliot took an immediate liking to her for there was
something motherly and honest about her that attracted him.
"Now go child, Jonny's waiting in his room. It's on the second level,"
she motioned to the main building to a room with its window opened and blue
curtains flapping in the wind.
"Thank you Sister," Eliot tipped his head and pressed a kiss on her
wrinkled hand.
The inside of the building was reworked with fresh new oak planks for
Eliot could see parts of the place where the chipped old pieces of wood
crossed with the new. He wondered if the children still played in here when
it rained. He stood outside the door with the name "Jonathan" carved on it
and knocked.
"Come in," a soft voice said.
He turned the knob and entered.
The room had little furniture. A bed spread with clean sheets, a
cupboard, a chair and a table that served multi-purposes. He remembered
when he used to eat, sleep and study on a similar table eons ago.
"You must be Eliot. I'm Jonathan," the man said as he sat up from the
bed. His black hair was cropped short and he was paler than the last time
he had seen him in the papers. Eliot was certain he could see the man's
skeleton if he examined him closely.
Eliot nodded and eased into a chair.
"You mentioned you had something important to tell me?" Eliot asked,
cutting straight to the point. He had no idea why Jonathan had specifically
wanted to meet him in the orphanage and he was disconcerted by the memories
that flooded back with each passing minute.
"I want to thank you personally," Jonathan said.
"For?"
"For saving Marcus's career and our reputations."
"It was no trouble at all," Eliot replied. "Just doing what was right."
Jonathan cocked his head to the side as if inspecting him.
"If there's nothing else, I would like to leave," Eliot pushed back the
chair and got ready to leave.
"Actually I could have just called you to thank you instead of
insisting that you make a trip here," Jonathan said. Eliot stopped and sat
back down.
"Suppose you tell me the reason?" Eliot suggested, he was uncomfortable
with the direction that the conversation was taking.
"Actually that's my line," Jonathan joked.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Why did you do it? We are not related to you plus Marcus had
humiliated your family by buying over Troy Electronics. The reason I asked
you here is because I felt it was the most suitable place. Don't ask me
why, it's just a gut feeling. I feel close to you like we are brothers or
something even though we haven't met before. And I'm right about meeting
you here because I can sense you uneasiness about this place," Jonathan
said, crossing his legs.
Eliot paused, battling the conflicting emotions that coursed through
his mind. He was unsettled that Jonathan had felt the same way about
him. Brothers, it was the appropriate term for this closeness he felt
towards Jonathan and why he was obliged to betray Patricia in the first
place.
"I was from an orphanage too. My biological mother had forsaken me when
I was born but fortunately my father had adopted me and taken me under his
wing," Eliot said.
"Robert Troy is your foster father?" Jonathan questioned.
"Yes and he happened to be my biological father as well. I only found
out when I finished high school because my mother had returned and demanded
custody of me unless my father paid her off. It seemed my father had
impregnated her with child and left her. She was a minor when it had
happened so it was going to be a complicated trial."
"What happened then?" Jonathan asked, listening attentively.
"Had my father done some investigations, he would have been able to win
the case. However, at that time he was grieving the death of my foster
mother who had just died and could not think clearly. Eventually, I chose
him and the court had ruled in his favor. It turned out the woman who had
given birth to me was no longer a virgin when she seduced my father. She
was put up to the act by her father since the Troys were affluent and
powerful and her father had known the Troys never neglect one of their
own. Following this, my father had buried this scandalous part of my life
and reconstructed another identity for me as being the youngest child of my
foster mother."
"Does your brother know?" Jonathan asked, mentally recounting the
little he knew about the Troys. Before Robert Troy's stroke, Roderick Troy
was the only contesting candidate to the presidency of Troy
Associates. However due to a scandal between Roderick and a loose woman,
Robert had chosen Eliot instead.
"He knows. He had bet on this advantage he had over me when he
announced his engagement with Celeste to my father. He believed our father
would not let an illegitimate child take over the company. He was wrong. In
his fit of anger, Dad had elected me as president," Eliot replied.
"I'm sorry," Jonathan said slowly. Eliot could see Jonathan was shaken
by the account and he could not blame him for he was feeling similar
emotions.
"Patricia had tried to harm you and I had drawn from my past and knew
how painful it was to be discarded in an orphanage like an unwanted child
only to realize I was born as an instrument to gain wealth. But it must
have been a whole lot more difficult for you because Patricia had edited it
and turned you out to be a whore since youth. You really don't have to feel
grateful because in helping you I have somehow been able to reconcile with
my past. I knew I had managed to save someone as unlucky as I was and gave
him the chance at a new life just as I once had."
"Thank you," Jonathan said, as he approached Eliot and covered his
hands in a comforting grip. Despite the coldness and bony feel of
Jonathan's hand, Eliot felt his sincerity.
"No problem, brother," Eliot smiled, unknowingly using the familiar
term.
"It would be my honor to be considered as your brother," Jonathan
returned the smile.
It was to be the beginning of a long-standing kinship, albeit with its
ups and downs.
CHAPTER 4 (GIFTS)
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, straightening the blue floral
bow tie I was wearing. There were still some parts in the blue tuxedo that
would be filled up if I had a few more weeks of intensive workout. I had
put on some weight over the last month since my bonding with Eliot and my
face was a rosy pink instead of white but I was still too thin. We were
scheduled to attend a fund-raising charity show followed by a quiet dinner
with Eliot at an exclusive hill-top restaurant.
Marcus had already put on his shoes and was appreciating the view.
"Stop ogling like I'm a piece of meat," I rolled my eyes at him.
"I know you are," he walked over and wrapped his arms around my middle,
effectively ruining all my effort at fixing the tie.
"We are going to be late for the charity event," I reminded him.
"I think we have enough time to spare," he replied, his hands already
unbuttoning my shirt and slipping in to caress my chest.
"I don't want to miss having a chance to speak with Eliot before the
thing starts," I closed my eyes as his fingers found my nipples and pinched
softly. Eliot called to say he should be back just in time to attend the
charity show and the dinner after he settled some business in Tokyo. He had
mentioned he had something important to show me. Something that I would be
overjoyed at seeing.
"The bed is just a few paces away," Marcus whispered seductively as he
rested his chin on my shoulders and nibble my neck.
"It's not polite to be late when you are the guest of honor," I
protested, already drowning in the sensuous spell he was weaving.
"I couldn't care less," he answered.
He stripped off my clothes, attacking my belt as I squatted on the bed,
with hunger burning in his eyes and almost tore my pants into shreds in his
rush. He freed my gorging meat from the restrictive Calvin Klein underwear
and covered it with his avaricious mouth. I drew in a sharp breath as he
moistened my cock with his saliva, closing in and expanding as his head
bobbed forward and back. Low moans gurgled in my throat.
"Mmmmm," I licked my lips as I felt my dick hardened.
Marcus increased the tempo and all I could do was to clutch his shirt
as he brought on my orgasm with his mouth. I came with scalding ferocity,
spilling my juice into his mouth while he drank it ravenously. We remained
still, me on top of him while he was in a crouching position with my prong
still in his mouth, waiting for my shudders to subside.
I reached tentatively to his groins, jerked at the zipper of his pants
and rubbed his club through the underpants. He withdrew his mouth and let
out a guttural groan as I pulled out his manhood and masturbated him with
my hands. I played with his toy like a kid with a rubber band, stretching
until he was near breaking point where the veins were bloated with blood
and releasing suddenly. Before long he came, his cum erupting like a
volcano and his hips bucked due to the explosion.
"That felt great," he said, embracing me tenderly.
"Only great?" I teased.
"Okay, stupendously, incredibly and fucking great," he proclaimed.
"You owe me a dollar for that," I answered sagely, referring to his use
of the forbidden 'f' word.
"I will gladly give you a thousand," he smiled.
Just then there was a knock on the door.
"Marc, the limousine's waiting at the door," Gabriel called.
Marcus muttered a curse while I looked on in horror. Neatly ironed
clothes were strewn on the floor and our carefully styled hair was a mess.
"Now I'm never going to be able to speak with Eliot first," I grumbled.
"Luckily we didn't make out in the limo," Marcus cheerfully predicted.
"Don't you dare make fun of the situation," I glared at him.
"Okay I'm sorry, don't get all bitchy with me," he grinned.
In the end we settled for black tuxedoes. Fortunately we arrived just
ten minutes before the event started and didn't attract much attention,
even though some reporters had already snapped a few photos of us. They
didn't get a clear shot since I was shielded by Marcus's coat and several
bodyguards. Marcus had managed to block any media from taking pictures of
me after news of Betty's failed murder spread like wildfire.
We had an obstructed view of the stage from our box. Two bodyguards
were stationed to the left and right of the balcony. Several people waved
their hands at Marcus from the other boxes and he nodded a silent greeting.
I recognized some of them to be senators and celebrities but I couldn't
find Eliot. It seemed only our box had two seats while the others had at
least four occupants. I didn't ask Marcus the reason thinking it was
because he was the guest of honor. The hall was crowded and there was loud
talking going on as people awaited for the show to begin.
"Looking for Eliot?" Marcus asked as he picked up the programme sheet.
"I can't seem to find him," I said. Eliot wasn't one to default on his
words. Did something happen to him?
"JB, you won't have to lie in my arms for the entire evening," Marcus
said as he placed the programme sheet on the low table before us, mistaking
my pensive look as worry over being hounded by the press.
I had hidden my face in his arms the last time we went to an opera. It
was the first time we had went out together after more than two years of
estrangement. There were several reporters chasing us like bloodhounds.
Marcus had fumed with cold anger then.
"It's okay. I was just shy then. I can handle them this time round," I
assured him, even though I still trembled at the scary memories of being
recognized on the streets and being hounded everywhere I went.
"Don't worry, you don't have to hide anymore in future," he promised.
He saw my baffled look and said," I have just became the major
shareholder of some of the largest media corporations in the world."
"You are joking right?" I couldn't stop my mouth from gaping wide with
astonishment.
"Nope. I figured if I can't win them why not join them," he answered,
shaking his head.
"And then it occurred to me they probably wouldn't annoy someone who
contributed funds to the company by panting after his boyfriend's photo,"
he provided.
"Does this means you can influence the news?" I asked incredulously.
"Perhaps. It is illegal though to some extent, depending on how one
argues the case," he said.
"Did you do it for me? Or it was a strategic business move?" I said
presumptuously. Marcus loved me but I didn't think he would go to such
extents to protect me.
"Yes, I did it for you. I have no interest in running a news station or
a magazine," he confirmed.
"This is dumb. I hid in your arms because I was nervous and naturally
didn't want to face the media. You don't have to buy something you don't
like," I muttered.
"I already have a group of executives who are going to represent me
during the board meetings and take care of the business. Besides it's
beneficial to Viacom sales since we can save on advertising amongst other
things," he replied.
"Are you trying to say it's a good move business-wise?" I inquired.
"If it's enough to make you stop worrying," he held my hands and patted
them.
"And you had something to do with us being isolated tonight?" I said,
as the thought struck me.
"Of course. I specifically mentioned I want a box for two when they
invited us. Not to mention that I sent out a memo earlier on that I don't
want any our pictures to be taken. Which reminds me I will have to find out
which company those people outside belonged to," he ascertained, fiddling
with my fingers.
I was touched and kissed him on the cheeks. He looked at me with
surprise.
"I think I will do this more often if it means I get to be kissed
without warning," he smiled.
"The shareholder or the box?" I rested my head on his chest.
"Both," he answered.
"Are you saying I'm not spontaneous enough?" I teased.
"I think I will give you an answer after I judge your performance in
bed tonight," he joked. I thumped him on the chest with my fists and he
laughed even harder.
"Stop it. Everyone's looking," I chided.
"I don't give a damn," he grinned. But he had quieted. I knew he wasn't
bothered by the opinions of others but he was concerned what others thought
of me.
"Mr. Stone, they are requesting for the signal to start the event," one
of the bodyguards said as he listened attentively to a message transmitted
to his ear-piece. I recognized him as Brady, captain of the team of
bodyguards that was responsible for our safety.
Marcus urged me to pick up the firecracker. I did as he told and lit
the short stick of fireworks. The firecracker cracked open in a myriad of
colorful lights and streamers. There was a round of applause as the
curtains were raised.
The show was spectacular. All of the performers had put in their best
to raise funds for Aids foundations around the world, some of them walking
tight-ropes while some attempted to charm snakes, just so the audience and
hopefully those who were watching from their homes would make a phone call
to contribute to their cause. It spoke volumes for their dedication to
charity when most of these performers were actors, scriptwriters and even
clerks, with only a few weeks training in the feats that they were supposed
to display. However, what tugged at my heart and I imagined several others,
was the courageous speech by the girl who was born with the virus but still
strove to lead a better life in spite of her illness.
"I don't like to see you cry," Marcus said, tenderly drying my tears
with his handkerchief.
"Couldn't help myself," I sniffed.
"Softie," he teased and squeezed my hands.
"I feel sorry for the girl. I would like to do something to help her,"
I said.
"Like a contribution?" Marcus asked. I nodded.
"I'm broke right now, after donating a hundred thousand to secure us
the guest of honor seat," he joked but he was already instructing one of
the bodyguards to make a phone call.
"A hundred thousand?!" I was taken aback by his extravagance. I was
still having difficulty trying to absorb the fact that we were no longer
trying to eke out a living, budgeting every cent we had. A few weeks ago,
Marcus had wanted to give me half of everything he owned but I had rejected
his offer since I wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do with it. Now,
he had spent a fortune just to get a seat to a charity show.
"So how large of a sum are we looking at?" he grinned as Brady gave him
a tiny cell phone. Loud clapping could be heard coming from below as one of
the performers successfully juggled eight plates in the air.
"Uhm......" I hesitated, still trying to make up my mind.
"Mr. Stone, call for you, I will transfer it to the cell," Brady
interrupted.
Marcus picked up the call and listened, his gray eyes moving
intelligently as thoughts went through his mind quickly.
"I have an idea," he said after awhile, whispered into the phone before
disconnecting the call. He made another call, said something inaudible and
hung up.
"What did you do? And why the secrecy?" I looked at him in confusion.
"Actually we but you will know in a second," he promised and draped his
other arm across my shoulders, chuckling as he ignored my frown.
The juggling act had just finished and the masters of ceremony were
introducing the next item when a member of the backstage crew rushed
forward and gave them a slip of paper, following that a group of four men
carried a small painting onto the stage.
"We...have..just been infor..med," the lady speaker stuttered, gulping
audibly over the microphone.
"We have just been informed," her male counterpart repeated, covering
her tracks. "Mr. Eliot Troy, president of Troy Associates, has donated a
piece of painting he had found in Tokyo and Mr. Jason Smith, vice-president
of Viacom Enterprises has offered to pay a hundred thousand for it. In a
show of goodwill, Mr. Troy has also contributed another hundred thousand,
in addition to the painting."
"Un...Unfortunately, Mr. Smith is currently in Beijing on a business
trip while Mr. Troy is on his way back from Tokyo so we are unable to
formally thank them," the woman said, regaining her composure.
"The painting is the work of a Mr. Jon B. As of now we still verifying
the identity of the artist," the man added.
Just then a man stepped briskly forward and handed the two speakers
another note. The female speaker took a look at the paper and gave a small
cry of delight while her male co-host was too moved to comment. An
expectant hush has fallen over the crowd as they anxiously awaited the
news.
"We....," said the man, his voice cracking,"...have confirmed that the
painting is the work of a Mr. Jonathan Bancroft. Incidentally, Mr. Bancroft
is the elusive boyfriend of our guest of honor, Mr. Marcus Stone, president
of Viacom Enterprises. In view of this unusual circumstance, Mr. Smith has
withdrawn his bid for the painting and made it a donation to our cause
instead."
"And...and.." the lady tried to continue but was still too overwhelmed.
"And," the man said, coming to her rescue again," in addition to the
donations he had made previously, Mr. Stone has just consented to
appropriating a million dollars as payment for the painting. This brings us
to a grand total of 1.2 million dollars in cash. On behalf of tonight's
fund-raising committee, we would like to thank Mr. Smith, Mr. Troy,
Mr. Stone and Mr. Bancroft for their generosity."
There was a deafening round of cheering as the crowd was in a furore. I
couldn't believe my ears.
"Happy?" Marcus smiled, ruffling my hair while I noticed people
straining to stare into our box. Brady was already standing infront,
effectively blocking me from sight. It didn't occur to me then that the
stage manager hadn't focused the spotlight in our direction as would have
been the norm, which would have exposed me regardless of where Brady and
the other bodyguard stood. Marcus had meant it when he said no reporter was
to get my picture.
I didn't know what to say. To say I felt pampered and loved was an
understatement. I kissed Marcus fiercely on the lips to show my
appreciation. It was the only gift I could think to give him at that
time. He kissed me back with matching passion and I knew Marcus had deemed
it a suitable reward.
"I suppose we should head home after this, since Eliot won't be meeting
us for dinner," Marcus whispered against my lips.
**************
Eliot chuckled as he tried to imagine Jonathan's surprise when he knew
what he, Marcus and Jason had done. He had originally thought it would make
a nice present if he could locate a painting previously done by Jonathan
while he was in Japan and bring it back. After some investigations, he had
managed to trace the artwork to the house of an American doctor who had
recently moved from New York to Tokyo. Jason was let in on the plan and he
had fully supported it. However due to bad weather, his flight was delayed
and he was unable to show the painting to Jonathan, prior to the charity
show as he had promised. He probably wouldn't make it for dinner as
well. He had phoned Marcus, hoping to inform Jonathan that he would not be
able to make it and Marcus had came up with the surprise when he heard
about the painting.
"Eliot Troy speaking, who's this?" Eliot said as he pressed a flashing
green button to receive the call.
"Yo, Jason here," a jerky voice replied. The connection was pretty bad
since it was a long distance call from Beijing.
"Hi Jason, I believe Marcus just spoke to you on the phone?" Eliot
said.
"Yup, he did. Great idea but still a hundred thousand's a little steep"
Jason lamented.
"Don't be such a miser," Eliot chided.
"Do I need to remind you that I don't have a fat bank account like
Marcus and you?" Jason retorted.
"My brother's your friend, do you have to be so calculative? Besides
your account is only a little less plump than ours," Eliot said, slightly
annoyed.
"Have you been checking on me?" Jason prodded, his voice holding a hint
of sarcasm.
"Do you seriously think I would not have a dossier on your current
financial status before I decide to invest in your new company?"
"I didn't know you were that smart. I remember I had to teach you how
to negotiate your first deal," Jason's voice was faltering as the
connection worsened.
"Are you trying to provoke me? If you are, you are succeeding," Eliot
said dryly.
"Oh I have to run, have to switch off all digital equipment for
security purposes. Check back on you later. By the way, heard that you are
experiencing turbulent weather. Give me a call if you make it back to New
York in one piece," Jason said before the line went dead.
Eliot muttered. Jason always hit a raw nerve in him whenever they
conversed, it was like they were natural enemies. They had became closer
after Jonathan sought Jason to mentor Eliot in the workings of various
business processes when he had found out Eliot was having difficulty
coping. Jason had been pleasant initially but degenerated to bullying and
whining when he had gotten to know Eliot better. Subsequently, they had
bickered every time like siblings. It was strange that he had never
quarreled that much with Jonathan even though they were hailing each other
as brothers. It was even more baffling that Eliot had actually missed the
verbal sparring sessions with Jason and they had barely known each other
for a month.
CHAPTER 5 (A DESPERATE CRY FOR HELP)
The young boy squealed like a pig as the cane made direct contact with
his bottoms. He had lost count of how many times the man had spanked
him. It was his fault for antagonizing him, for not acing his Biology
paper, even though he had spent nights foregoing sleep to study for it. He
knew he wasn't smart like the rest of the kids but where he lacked in, he
made up with hard work. But it still wasn't enough, not where his father
was concerned. He knew he was going to die if he didn't get at least ninety
marks for the Physics paper tomorrow. There was only one person he could
turn to for help. But would he save him? Could he?
**************
Marcus looked up as Jason strode into the cafeteria with a wide smile
on his face. He didn't expect him back this early from his trip to
Beijing. Jonathan was equally shocked. Eliot choked on his coffee.
"I'm back!" Jason exclaimed jubilantly, as the bodyguards parted to let
him pass.
"I thought your plane had met with an accident while flying across the
Pacific," Eliot commented wryly but Marcus noted the smile Eliot was trying
to conceal without success. Something was going on between the two of them.
"Nice to have you back," Jonathan said as he got the waiter to prepare
another seat at the table.
"When are you expected to start production?" Marcus asked, skipping
over the details of how Jason negotiated the deal with the Chinese
government and the locals. Marcus knew Jason always prevailed.
"Latest by next month. There are some documents that need to be
approved by our Ministry of Foreign Trade but it should no problem. Of
course, there is still the question of capital," Jason cast a hopeful look
at Marcus and Eliot.
"There is something called 'humility' when you are trying to win over
an investor," Eliot snorted.
"Geesh, Eliot. Don't expect me to beg you," Jason threw up his hands in
an exaggerated show of desperation.
"Maybe I should issue a note to the accounts department to delay the
bank transfer," Eliot said.
"Then I will have to kick your ass right now," Jason threatened.
"For my sake, can you two please be civil? Congratulations on the deal
Jason, I guess this means you will be leaving Viacom soon?" Jonathan said,
assuming the role of mediator. Marcus bit back a smile, he was wondering
when Jonathan would put a stop to this foolishness.
"Not my fault, big brother," Eliot whined.
"Oh just shaddup, you weakling," Jason snapped.
Jonathan burst out laughing before adding," I can't believe this. I'm
actually telling two high-powered executives who could send Wall Street
crashing how to behave."
"Baby, you are flattering them," Marcus grinned and reached for
Jonathan's hand.
"Didn't mean to make you jealous, love," Jonathan replied.
"Apologize with a kiss," Marcus suggested, his eyes turning sultry.
"Ewe," Jason and Eliot chorused. Everyone laughed.
"I have already transferred the cash to Smith Technologies and approved
your resignation. You can start working on your company anytime, Jason,"
Marcus stated.
"Thanks, Marc," Jason said, pouring coffee into the cup that the waiter
had just placed before him.
"Same here. I have already authorized the bank transfer. You should get
the cash in a matter of days." Eliot concurred. There was a silent greeting
as Jason looked at Eliot with a profound expression on his face. Something
went off in Marcus's head but he didn't give it much notice.
"Oh before I forget," Jonathan began," Thanks for the kind donations. I
hadn't expected the painting, little brother," Jonathan shot a grateful
look at Eliot.
"Think nothing of it, bro. Besides, you did pay a million dollars for
it," Eliot teased.
"Not me, Marc did," Jonathan corrected.
"Hullo? Are we done with flaunting each other's wealth?" Jason
interrupted.
"It's none of your business, Jason," Eliot growled.
Marcus patted Jonathan's hand as he saw him turned his eyes to the
ceiling. He didn't want to distress his boyfriend further by telling him
he found Jason's and Eliot's squabbling entertaining.
"Jon, there's a call for you," Brady said as he tapped a finger on the
ear-piece.
"Thanks, Brady. Can you transfer it to the cell?" Jonathan said as he
took the phone from the bodyguard's outstretched hands.
Marcus marveled at Jonathan's ability to make friends with almost
anyone but he also feared that he would be hurt by mixing with the wrong
company. In less than a few hours time he was on a first name basis with
the captain of their security team. Marcus didn't approve of it but
Jonathan had insisted on being friendly with him since he was responsible
for their safety. Marcus had indulged him because he knew it made Jonathan
happy.
Jonathan spoke briefly into the phone, listened and his face instantly
darkened.
"What is it?" Marcus asked.
"That was from Andrew," Jonathan answered.
"Andrew? As in the brother from the family that disowned you?" Marcus's
brows furrowed with displeasure.
"Yes. It was Anthony's and Margaret's idea. Andrew has nothing to do
with it," Jonathan explained, carefully avoiding the use of the word
'parents' for he could not think of them in such terms even though he no
longer hated them.
"That's what you believe. You gave Andrew this number? I specifically
told you that nobody from that treacherous family of yours is to have this
number," Marcus snapped.
"It is my number and I can give it to anyone I like," Jonathan
protested.
"Chill guys, what's going on here?" Jason asked while Eliot remained
quiet. Jason gave Eliot a questioning look, Eliot shook his head to
indicate he was as lost as Jason.
"Ask Jonathan," Marcus bit out.
"Fine," Jonathan retaliated," Mr. Stone here has judged my brother
Andrew to be poor company just because he is associated with the people who
had disowned me."
"You forgot to mention they had called and tried to blackmail us awhile
back until I cowed them with threats of lawsuits that they are never going
to win," Marcus said sarcastically.
"Blackmail? What blackmail? Bro, you should have told me," Eliot said.
"Eliot don't bother. I was only aware of what was going on when one of
the branch executive in Minnesota complained about a Mr. Anthony Bancroft
was delaying payment for goods he had bought in our retail stores there,
claiming he was related to me," Marcus said, "And I did some checking and
found that our friend, Jonathan here has authorized several of these
purchases."
"He said he would disown Andrew if I did not comply," Jonathan argued.
"Andrew's like a son to me being twelve years my junior."
"Whoa slow down. So this Anthony person is the one who disowned
Jonathan more than two years ago when news of Jonathan's affair with Marcus
broke out and he has a son named Andrew, who happens to be like a son to
Jonathan or is it brother?" Jason looked on, bewilderment clearly present
on his face. He had forgotten about the cup of coffee in his hand.
"Andrew was born shortly after I was adopted by Anthony and I have
taken care of him since he was a baby. We were brothers but deep down, I
think we both knew I was more of a surrogate father as Anthony and his
spouse were forever out partying, even though we could hardly make ends
meet. Andrew didn't enjoy the bliss of a happy family when he was young and
I couldn't bear to put him through the pain of being disowned. It would
have been devastating for him since he is the flesh and blood of Anthony
and Margaret. To be disowned was equivalent to being abandoned," Jonathan
sought Eliot's help with his eyes.
"I understand, bro," Eliot comforted.
"Still I think it's silly of you, Jon. No offense. It could all be a
ploy, since we know how money-minded your parents are. Andrew could be in
cahoots with them since he knew you would be vulnerable and what better way
to get a share of Marcus's money than to make use of your compassion. Not
that being benevolent to a fellow human being is bad, but sometimes we have
to be careful with whom we are kind to." Jason said.
"My thoughts exactly," Marcus agreed.
"Anyway I'm flying down to Minnesota to see Andrew. I'm worried he
would do something stupid. He sounded so frightened," Jonathan said firmly.
"You are not making the trip. I forbid you," Marcus said coldly.
"I didn't ask you for your permission," Jonathan burst out and quickly
added when he accurately interpreted Marcus's mocking grin," I have some
savings of my own so I won't need to ask you for money."
"Bro, you can take my personal jet," Eliot offered quietly.
Both Jason and Marcus glowered at Eliot.
**************
I sat alone on the bed in the guest room, unable to shut my eyes. I was
terrified. What did Andrew mean when he said he was done with? I had a bad
feeling when I found out my parents had moved to Minnesota just
recently. Just then the door opened to let in a faint ray of yellowish
orange light.
"JB?" Marcus asked.
"If you are here to persuade me not to go, please leave," I said.
Marcus closed the door and walked over to sit beside me in the
darkness.
"I came to apologize. I was too harsh earlier today," he said.
"I know you don't like Anthony or Margaret. I don't blame you but I
can't bring myself to detest them with your virulence. They did bring me
out of the orphanage regardless of their motives. And I can't stand by and
do nothing if Andrew's in trouble. He is like a part of me," I told him.
"I understand but you cannot expect me to subscribe to how you feel
towards your parents," Marcus said.
"I didn't ask you to accept. I just want you to understand and give me
your support." I admonished with exasperation.
"I know but I was afraid for you," he admitted.
"Why?" I asked incredulously.
"You trust people too easily and completely. That is a virtue but it is
also dangerous to you. You must realize we are no longer your everyday
couple. There are people out there who would do anything to you just to get
to me. The same goes for Jason and even Eliot. Eliot has Jason to protect
him while you have me but I constantly fear that what I do may not be
enough since you almost died twice even after all the precautions that I
have taken," he replied.
I gazed at him quietly, silently contemplating what he had just said.
"Sometimes you infuriate me with your unreasonable attitude but just as
suddenly, you move me with your words," I said tearfully, affected by his
tender profession.
"So am I forgiven, JB?" he asked a little uncertainly.
"I could never be angry with you for long, Stoner," I said and laid my
head on his back.
"Because I'm irresistibly handsome?" he teased.
"Only when all the cute guys in the world are extinct," I said and
Marcus laughed.
He sobered after awhile and announced ,"I'm going with you to
Minnesota."
"Serious?" I inquired.
"I can't possibly let my boyfriend travel in another man's plane can
I?" he smiled.
"You were prepared to do that several hours ago," I reminded him.
His smile faded and he said solemnly," I didn't mean it, not even when
I wanted to mock you about how you intend to make the trip without any
money. I was just angry. Whatever is mine is yours to use."
"I know. I was just joking," I giggled.
"Next time, joke about something else, please. For a moment, I thought
I had put a barrier between us with my insensitive mention of money," he
begged.
"You were just being practical. I know, Stoner."
I kissed him slowly, working my way into his sweater. My fingers
crawling along his muscled back, enticing him with my feathery light touch
as my hands explored his big body while at the same time I undressed him. I
massaged his back, loosening the tight knots around the shoulders and neck,
glowing with pleasure as he moaned softly. Moments later, his large palms
reached for my neck, pulled me down and his mouth locked with mine in a
passionate kiss.
He was enormous, laying naked on the bed and I tingled with part
excitement and part fear as my hands roamed the taut, firm muscles around
his abdomens and arms. Even though we had made love several times, I still
felt awkward and small before him. I worked my way to his penis, pulling
back the foreskin, cleaning him with my left finger while I stroked him
with my right palm. His cock swelled into a gigantic erection immediately
as desire pulsed through him. I was about to position myself over him as
always when he stopped me.
"No, love. Tonight, I want to feel you inside me," he said, embracing
me, his phallus pressed against my stomach as he grabbed my dick. I was
rigid within seconds and gingerly I slid into his welcoming hole.
"You feel so......" I shuddered as I felt his muscles clenched against
my highly-sensitized prong.
"Tight?" he provided, gasping and bubbling with amusement at my
tentative loss of speech. It would have been funny were I not too
preoccupied with the task at hand. His legs lifted and encumbered me as he
tried to help speed up my progress.
"Yes, yes," he shouted. It seemed like ages before I was fully sheathed
in his throbbing, silky warmth and I thought I was going to die with
pleasure. Then he started to rock, back and forth, his hips moving
voluntarily and I realized what the big deal fucking was. Overwhelmed by a
raw animal instinct I didn't know I possessed, my hands clawed at his
thighs as I humped him, each time faster and harder, until his stick
stopped bouncing and sprayed a hot stream of cum onto my body.
"I'm...going to cum," I stammered, my eyes closed shut as I savored the
sensations of my mounting climax.
"Cum in me," he begged and I came inside his butthole, filling him with
my love-juice.
"Oh god," he groaned as the hot fluid burned his insides.
I cuddled close to him when I have spent myself and he folded his arms
around me. My cock was still embedded deep inside of him.
"That was the best fuck we have ever had," I told him truthfully, not
caring that I used the forbidden word because it felt right.
"I agree. I missed you, JB" Marcus confessed. Marcus had insisted that
we not try this position because it was physically strenuous to me. I had
thought it silly because making love with him was always tiring. But this
time had far surpassed all our lovemaking since my recovery.
"I didn't think bareback sex is this painful," I said," Else I would
have been more gentle when I rode you." We had almost always used condoms
for safety reasons.
"I told you I love it when you are rough with me. But if you like, next
time we will use some lube when you enter me again," he said.
"There's a next time?" I said without thinking before realizing how
dumb that question was.
"Of course. I can tell that you enjoy being inside of me," he chuckled
and I blushed, aware that I still had my naked club stuck in his asshole.
"But I won't be using lube when I take you though, unless it's your
saliva," he laughed even louder when I covered my face in his neck, turning
shades of red and pink.
"Or semen," he added. I bit his neck and he yowled.
"By the way what do you mean by Eliot has Jason to protect him?" I
asked, suddenly remembering the peculiar sentence he had said.
"Just a feeling I have. They are awfully close don't you think?" he
answered with a question.
"What are you trying to say, Stoner? That Jason and Eliot are gay?" I
yawned, a dense fog settling over my consciousness. It was a ridiculous
notion.
"Never mind," Marcus said and he tucked my head into the hollow of his
neck.
We laid there, breathing in each other's scent and leisured ourselves
with the drowsy warmth that emanated from our bodies. I didn't know I had
dozed off until I felt lukewarm water drizzling down my body. Marcus was
cleaning both of us in the shower and I accepted his ministrations being
too lazy to move. Soon he was drying us off with a towel and I found myself
back on the soft bed with his arms around me.
CHAPTER 6 (RESCUE)
The boy crumpled the test paper as he replaced the receiver on the
cradle, staggering out of the phone booth in a daze. He didn't care if
everyone saw the large bruise around his left eye which he had hidden with
a pair of sunglasses nor did he feel the scorching pain in his back and
buttocks as he walked down the hallway, making his way out of the
school. He saw his death in a few days when the results were to be
released. It was a tough paper and he had only completed three out of four
questions. It was much better than what most students had done but it
wasn't sufficient to give him ninety marks even if he scored full marks for
each question attempted. His brother had promised to come but he wasn't
convinced he would make it in time. He could only pray.
**************
"Are you crazy?!" Margaret Bancroft yelled at her husband," Why did you
hit Andrew? It was just a test for christ sake. He is your son."
"He is your son not mine," Anthony Bancroft shouted, "How long did you
intend to keep it from me? Were it not for the blood donation drive, I
would never have found out!"
"It was just a harmless fling after our marriage," she protested
lamely. The truth was she had sex with too many men, so much so that she
didn't remember whose son Andrew was and Anthony had seemed like a
potential father after they adopted Jonathan.
"Liar! You whore, do you think I'm blind to all those affairs you had?
I figured it didn't matter so long as you practiced safe sex and that they
paid you for your services," he enunciated each word, striking out with all
the venom he had stored over the years.
"You weren't a saint yourself either! Those old women you bedded just
for money. When I think back to how your filthy hands touched my body after
worshipping their saggy breasts and wrinkled skin, I could vomit," she
retorted.
"You fucking slut! Well, you better pray that worthless Andrew of yours
makes enough for us to spend when we are too old to be contacted for our
skills in bed. That Jonathan and his rich gay husband isn't going to be
giving us a cent."
"You insisted that I break off all contacts with him!" she screamed at
the man she had once thought suave and gallant.
"Do you want the bloody press to chase after us everywhere we went? No
decent customer would have wanted to go out with us and you can kiss
goodbye to all those glamorous parties you love."
There was a long silence as both regarded each other. Margaret, not one
to put up a fight when she saw reason, took the first step to a
reconciliation. It was a tenacious truce but it suited both their purposes.
"Try to be more lenient when Andrew fumbles in his next test," Margaret
conceded. She knew it was for the best.
"Don't be such a nagging fuck. I won't beat him to his death. I don't
want to be charged with murder," Anthony grumbled.
Both of them were too absorbed in their conversation to notice the door
clicking shut and a boy stealing out of the house through the kitchen with
a cassette recorder in his hand.
**************
We checked into a nearby hotel as soon as we got off the private
jet. It was a freighter with a holding capacity of two hundred passengers
converted into a luxurious travelling plane, complete with a master
bedroom, two guestrooms, a conference room, a kitchen, a walk-in closet and
three separate bathrooms. Marcus had bought the expensive piece for a hefty
twenty million because of its moderate size since it could enter, refill
and leave an airport in a matter of minutes without much hassle. It had
suited his needs as he and his team flew regularly around the world. The
last occupant had been Jason when he was in Beijing to negotiate a deal.
I had tried to contact Andrew at the school but the registrar said he
was on medical leave, his parents had called in to say Andrew had contacted
chicken pox. I saw through the lie, Andrew already had chicken pox before.
Something was amiss. Marcus rented a plain jeep with a local license plate
and Brady drove us by the address I got from the registrar after Marcus
pulled some strings at the education board. It was a small semi-detached
house, with a tiny garden plot in the front that was an unattended shambles
of stones and weeds.
After two days of spying, I was convinced Andrew was locked up
somewhere inside the house because it was unlike Anthony or Margaret to
take turn at leaving the house. They usually went out to party
together. But it wasn't sufficient proof and we couldn't get the police to
apply for a search warrant unless we were absolutely sure. Brady suggested
we get one of the bodyguards to sneak into the house. Marcus was against it
because he didn't want to risk making ourselves vulnerable to Anthony lest
we were wrong about Andrew's location. A few more days went by and I
thought our break came when Andrew's Physics teacher, a petite lady in her
fifties, walked up to the house to deliver his results. I had asked her to
pass a note to Andrew, telling him that I was waiting for him outside the
house. Her request to see him was denied and she had reluctantly returned
the note to me.
That night as we parked several blocks away from the house, I saw the
light switched on for the first time in what must be an attic. Without any
fore warning, I retched violently. Marcus had a paper bag ready and we were
spared the trouble of having to clean up the car. Marcus had taken a look
at my condition and consented to Brady's plan. I knew he was worried for me
but I was terrified too because I never felt this way before.
"Better?" Marcus asked, patting my back.
"No," I answered, wiping my mouth with his handkerchief.
"It's probably an over-reaction due to anxiety. You should relax, they
won't hurt Andrew because he is their son," Marcus consoled.
"I can't say for sure," I paused, looking for the right words to
explain this weird feeling I was experiencing," The more I thought about
it, the more I am convinced Andrew's not Anthony's son. He resembled
Margaret alright but he never looked or behaved like Anthony in any
respect."
"Are you certain?" Marcus said skeptically. Despite his doubts, my
boyfriend was still willing to trust my instincts.
"Very," I confirmed.
"Mr. Stone, one of my men has found a boy tied up in the attic. They
can only locate his presence with the thermo-scan. There is another woman
in the house, she's on the ground floor," Brady said.
"It must be Andrew," I exclaimed," Brady can you get your men to save
him now?"
"Not yet. Brady get me Senator Wilhelm," Marcus counter-ordered.
Brady made the call using the car phone and handed it over to Marcus. I
was too distraught to take note of what transpired between Marcus and the
Senator.
"Now we wait," Marcus said after he hung up.
"Why?" I questioned, not wanting to waste another minute.
"Trust me," Marcus replied. I did as he said.
**************
The boy tried to squirm about and wiggle his toes to keep himself from
passing out. The stench of rotten food was everywhere and a hungry rat
scampered beneath his nose as it searched for food. His father, or rather
the monster that posed as his father, had beaten him again today. Not once
did his mother interfered. They had found out that he overheard what they
had said that afternoon when he accidentally blurted out everything during
dinner the same day. The beast had tied him up, blindfolded him, gagged him
and hanged him from the ceiling of the attic. After that was a blur of
flogging using sticks, batons and whips. He had thought his mother was
going to save him when she had cried on the first day the torture
started. But she didn't. He had given up on her. He didn't know if his
brother would come but he kept his image in his mind each time the pain
became unbearable, willing him to save him. He was his only hope.
**************
"Mr. Stone, the police are here," Brady said, as a series of sirens
wailed in the night.
"Let's go," Marcus nodded.
By the time we drove up to the house, the police had already secured
the place. Margaret was aghast with fear when she saw me ran through the
door and dashed up to the attic. Anthony was nowhere to be seen. Two
policemen stood at attention outside the attic door and I vaguely heard one
of them call for the paramedics. Marcus had stayed below to speak with the
cops.
"Drew?" I cried, startled by the scene unfolding before me. I barely
recognized the partially naked, brutalized form of my baby brother, his
shirt torn while marks covered his torso. His denim jeans were discarded in
a heap and a male officer was trying to keep the rats away from him. I
grabbed his body and shook him vigorously, willing him to wake up.
"Wake up, Drew, it's me," I kept on saying, tears gushing out without
control. A nauseous feeling crept over me and the foul smell that lingered
in the air made it worse. At 5'4", he was quite tall for a boy of his age
but all I could think of was the hundreds of wounds that riddled his
body. Some were openly bleeding while others had dried up. There were large
patches of blue and black bruise marks as well. I didn't think anyone
could be this cruel to want to hurt an innocent boy so.
"Jon?" he whispered weakly, his eyelids barely lifted.
"Yes it's me. You are going to be fine," I comforted him, brushing away
the tears using the sleeves of my shirt.
"He hurt me so bad," he sobbed, his body convulsing in pain.
"Don't worry, you are safe now," I said vehemently.
"Don't let him touch me again, please," he pleaded, his glazed eyes
staring through me as if looking at an apparition.
"I promise," I kissed him on the forehead like I used to when he was a
baby.
"Scout's honor?" he asked, a faint smile on his lips.
"Scout's honor," I lifted his right hand and hooked my baby finger with
his, careful to his hand down gently. Andrew closed his eyes with a sigh.
"Mr. Bancroft, the paramedics are here," the officer who was in the
room said.
"Can I at least carry him to the ambulance?"
The officer looked at both of us and nodded reluctantly, "If you can
manage."
I was halfway down the staircase when I saw Marcus waiting at the
bottom of the steps. His grim look darkened significantly when he saw the
boy in my arms. I shook my head to let him know I didn't need his
help. Brady and two other bodyguards surrounded us immediately the moment I
reached Marcus's side. I could see three policemen restraining a maddened
Anthony while another lady officer handcuffed Margaret.
"You fucking faggot, don't touch my son. You bastard son of a bitch,"
he swore relentlessly.
Something snapped inside of me. It was the same feeling I had when I
saw the assassin tried to take Marcus's life a long time ago.
"Anthony Bancroft," I began ominously," If you ever dare come near me
or Andrew again, you will wish you were dead the day you were born."
I barged my way past our bodyguards and stalked towards a cowering
Margaret, ignoring the stunned looks Marcus, Brady and several other people
in the room were giving me.
"And you, there are simply no words I know of that can describe how
filthy you are. You are not even worth to receive my spit," I spat on the
floor to emphasize my point.
I carried Andrew to the ambulance without tossing a backward glance at
the detestful couple that I had actually called family.
CHAPTER 7 (A MOTHER'S LOVE)
"Drew, are you sure you want to do this?" I questioned, looking
concernedly at my baby brother. His face was swollen and the loose-fitting
clothes that I had bought from Versace's latest collection did little to
conceal the bandages that were still wrapped about him.
He nodded. Marcus was convening with the chief of police in the hotel's
lobby.
"Let me get Brady," I opened the door and gestured for one of the
guards. His name was Cray and I had just found out that he used to be a
nurse before he switched jobs.
"Cray do you mind telling Brady I need a ride to this address?" I gave
him the paper that Andrew had scribbled on.
"Yes, Mr. Bancroft," Cray had adamantly refused to call me on a
first-name basis.
Within seconds the phone in the room rang. It was Marcus.
"There are some things I need to wrap up here so I won't accompany
you. Brady has arranged for two guards to take you instead. Don't wander
too far away from them," Marcus warned.
"I won't, Stoner," I assured him.
"Oh we are leaving for Hawaii as soon as Andrew gets whatever it is he
needs. The house is vacant and I have just informed the chief that you
maybe dropping by with Andrew in case your brother needs to pack some
identifications. The officer on duty is already notified of your visit," he
continued.
"Thanks, love," I smiled. Hawaii seemed like a good place for Andrew to
recuperate.
"Take care," he disconnected the call.
Andrew stood like a ghost beside the window, looking out into nothing
in particular. Perhaps there wasn't anything that could heal the pain in
his soul.
"Ready to go?" I asked. He hobbled towards me.
**************
"How serious are the charges?" Margaret asked Anthony anxiously. She
was weary of staying alone in the small caged room.
"They are charging us with violence to a minor," Anthony replied as he
sat down on the steel bed.
"What does that mean?" Margaret continued to ask.
"How the fuck should I know? I should have killed that damn faggot
instead of adopting him," Anthony cursed.
"Oh my god, I'm going to jail..." Margaret sobbed," It's all your
fault, I told you to stop but you didn't listen."
"Don't blame me darling," he sneered," You didn't try to stop me when I
beat the crap out of him."
"We are going down together and I mean to bring that gay orphan and
bastard son of yours with us," Anthony promised.
"Remember that little trinket I bought you the night before we were
caught? I knew our house was swarmed with police. Did you actually think I
was so stupid as to walk into an obvious trap empty-handed?" There was a
feverish look in Anthony's eyes.
"Yes, it was just a normal brooch," Margaret said uncertainly.
"I used to tell you I would blow up the school laboratories just to
avoid having to attend lessons. I wasn't joking," Anthony said and cackled
insanely.
Margaret gasped in horror at the demented maniac she had married. All
these years and she didn't know.
**************
We drove by Andrew's school and he picked up a small package that he
had stashed in the his locker. Inside was a cassette tape. Andrew had
insisted I listened to it. I wasn't surprised at Andrew's true identity but
I mentally recoiled from Anthony's wickedness after I heard the tape.
"Did you know?" Andrew asked.
"I suspected only, Drew. You weren't like him," I told him.
"I thought he wanted me to succeed to make up for his failure with
you," Andrew said quietly.
"Not Anthony. I know now," I said.
"She didn't try to save me," Andrew uttered, his lips trembling.
"Who? Margaret?" I offered and he nodded.
I was about to say something when the car phone rang.
"Mr. Bancroft, there's a call for you. Seems to be from the police
station," Cray said. He was among the two guards that were chosen to escort
Andrew and I.
"Thanks Cray," I picked up the receiver," This is Jonathan."
"Before you hang up, listen to what I have to say," a woman's voice
pleaded desperately.
"Who's this?" I said with a puzzled frown.
"Anthony has planted a bomb inside the house. It is inside a small
trinket that I had left on the kitchen table. Please do not let Andrew get
anywhere near that hideous thing," she said in a rush.
"Why should I trust you, Margaret?" I saw Andrew stiffened at the use
of the woman's name.
"I beg of you. It's my last act as his mother," she said in a choked
voice. I could tell she was crying. I figured it wouldn't hurt to have
someone investigate her claim.
"I will," I hung up before she replied.
"What did she want?" Andrew said bitterly.
"She wanted me to save you," I replied.
"Cray, do you think you can get a couple of bomb experts to search
through the Bancrofts' house? I have reason to believe there is a bomb
hidden inside. It's disguised as a small box of some sort."
"Yes, Mr. Bancroft."
"I think we will have to pick up your identification certs later, Drew"
I predicted.
**************
Marcus took off his glasses as he saw Jonathan walked into the
study. He had worn the contraption to reduce the stress to his eyes as he
pored through the stacks of contracts and reports on the desk.
"Is he asleep?" Marcus inquired when Jonathan perched his hip on the
side of the table.
Jonathan nodded. "Sound asleep. I wonder when was the last time he had
a fitful rest. Even the few days he had spent in the hospital, he was
murmuring in his sleep."
"An officer gave me this before we left Minnesota. I think it contains
Andrew's certifications, results and some pictures," Jonathan picked up the
sealed envelope.
"I have also sent our lawyers a duplicate copy of the tape so they can
handle the rest from here."
"Will Andrew have to attend the hearing?"
"Probably but I will make sure his appearance is minimal. The court
will understand that he needs to rest and recover from the ordeal."
"The police have confirmed the bomb is the work of an amateur. They are
still trying to link it to Anthony. Judging by the progress they are making
and with Margaret's help, they should be able to charge him."
Jonathan tipped his head in a slight nod.
"How are you taking all these, baby?" Marcus reached for Jonathan's
hand.
"Confused. I guess no matter how cruel a man is, he doesn't kill one of
his own. Do you suppose Margaret acted out of paternal instinct or the
instinct to survive? She was aware she would get a shorter sentence by
exposing Anthony," Jonathan entwined his fingers around Marcus's.
"Only Margaret can answer you, JB," Marcus replied.
"I suppose. I'm actually grateful this has happened. It had made me
think about children, if I'm going to have any in future. I don't believe I
could bear the thought of harming my own child to benefit myself."
"Thinking about children already? We are not even married," Marcus
teased. A thought struck him then.
"Did I say I was going to marry you?" Jonathan said.
"You aren't?" Marcus pouted.
"Not for a million dollars," Jonathan chuckled and Marcus tickled him
mercilessly.
"Stop, stop!" Jonathan giggled. "Okay, I'm sorry, spare me."
Marcus stopped and settled back into the chair. It took a few minutes
for Jonathan to catch his breath.
"Do you think Anthony will get life time imprisonment? I hope he does."
Jonathan said.
"That's for the court to decide. But I'm surprised you feel this
way. It's not you," Marcus said, gazing with tenderness at Jonathan.
"I know. I was just venting and would probably hate myself if it really
came true. But I loath the man and the sight of his face makes me sick. I
thought I could forgive him for everything he had done but after what
happened today with Andrew, I knew there was a limit to my tolerance."
"Actually I have been meaning to ask you, whatever prompted you to say
those things that night?" Marcus asked curiously.
"Was I convincing? I had shook uncontrollably with anger after that mad
outburst. I dunno. It was as if something inside me had suddenly broke
free. I felt the same way that night you were attacked."
"I see. Well, you were more than convincing. You were death making a
threat."
"I could never sound or look like death," Jonathan rolled his eyes at
that exaggeration.
"Hmmm, maybe. But I would think twice about crossing you again," Marcus
joked.
"You should, Stoner," Jonathan glared, feigning an indignant stare.
"Oh, Gabriel called earlier on. He will be in Hawaii with Jason and
Eliot."
"Jason and Eliot? Don't they have to work?" Jonathan shot a puzzled
look at Marcus.
"It's only going to be for a few days," Marcus answered.
"I guess this means you are staying as well?" Jonathan asked hopefully.
"Uhhuh, it all depends on how persuasive you are," Marcus leered.
"Oh, I can be very, very persuasive if I want to, Marcus Cornelia
Stone," Jonathan said in a low, seductive voice that sent flames shooting
in Marcus's groins.
"Do you prefer the comforts of a bed or a table?" Marcus gave Jonathan
a lecherous look.
"Do I get to be bottom or top? I would like to know how it feels like
to be rode like a stallion for a change," Jonathan asked.
"You can take any position that you like. I'm all yours," Marcus
groaned as Jonathan licked a wet trail from his forehead all the way to the
chest.
CHAPTER 8 (BIRTHDAY PRESENT)
Hawaii was an idyllic resort for the tired city-dweller who longed to
be with nature. White sandy beaches and blue colored waters beckoned the
adventurous to explore and there were plenty of water sports such as
skiing, snorkeling where one could lose themselves in. The people were
equally warm as was the weather and very hospitable. Dance and music was an
intricate part of their lives.
"Darn, this feels good," Gabriel said as he relaxed on a chaise lounge,
slowly sipping a glass of tropical punch.
Voluptuous women in scanty grass skirts sashayed on a platform not far
away, dancing in rhythm to a jaunty tune. His son and son's friends were
nowhere in sight, except for the kid that Jonathan had saved from
Minnesota. Something was wrong with the boy, high school children did not
sit listlessly by the sidelines and watch the fun. They plunged in with the
reckless abandon of their youth.
"Hey kiddo, you want some of these?" Gabriel offered his punch.
Andrew shook his head.
"I don't know what's wrong with you because your brother is very
tight-lipped where you are concerned and so is that besotted son of mine,"
Gabriel grumbled," Someday they are both going to be the death of
me. Anyway as I was saying, I don't give a damn what happened to you in
Minnesota. Look around you, this is not Minnesota. You have just been given
a chance to try at living again, grab it!"
Andrew just sat there quietly, pulling at the stray bits of bandage
near his palm. The bandages around the rest of his body were removed
yesterday.
"Look at me, I maybe old but I know how to live. Ah shucks, never
mind. I think you need a goddamn shrink," Gabriel stood up," While I shall
go and enjoy myself."
Gabriel was getting ready to leave when Andrew tugged at his shorts.
"What?" Gabriel asked.
"Can I have a little of that punch?" Andrew said.
"Sure," Gabriel picked up the glass and thrusted it towards Andrew. He
felt an inexplicable closeness to the kid then as he remembered Marcus
doing something similar many years ago. It didn't occur to him that this
feeling stemmed from his need to make up to Marcus, for neglecting him over
the years.
**************
"Are you sure its alright to leave Andrew in Gabriel's care?" Marcus
nagged.
"Yes, darling. I have already answered your question for the twentieth
time today. Have some faith in your own father," I reprimanded him.
"It's because he is my father which worries me. I think he will suggest
beer or cocaine as an alternative to Andrew's problems."
"Why are you so concerned about Andrew? Weren't you the one who
believed he had a motive for getting close to me?" I smiled at him.
"I was wrong about the boy. I think I'm starting to like him, he
reminds me of you," Marcus admitted.
"I hope you don't fall for him," I teased.
"I don't go for jock meat. Besides I already have the love of my life,"
he said it nonchalantly.
"Next time when you profess your undying love for me, try to be
serious," I chided and pinched him on the nose. He grinned.
We were walking barefoot along the beaches, my hands clasped in his,
entertaining ourselves with the rushing sounds of the waves as they lapped
against the shore. Nobody took much heed of us since not many locals
recognized us. Brady and his team were given a few days off because they
had surveyed the area and found it to be safe. Jason and Eliot had decided
to test out the water-skiing facility.
"Do you think it's safe to let Jason and Eliot pair up on that
water-ski?" I asked.
"It's probably the best arrangement," Marcus replied.
"But they quarrel over the smallest thing, I mean water-skiing requires
cooperation from both parties else it could be very dangerous."
"Don't fret, I don't think Jason would want Eliot hurt."
"Why do you keep saying that or something similar to that?" I demanded
as a distant memory surfaced.
"Nothing really, just instinct about the two of them," Marcus said.
"Don't patronize me," I muttered," Tell me please, I'm itching to
know."
"Well, for starters, have you noticed how each of them always tries to
pick up a fight whenever the other party is around? But they always make
up. And did Eliot ever grumbled about Jason to you, especially bad things
about Jason? I would say no, because Jason was forever praising Eliot
infront of me."
I nodded. "Examined from that perspective, it does look odd."
"And the funniest thing I notice about them is Jason seems to know
exactly what Eliot likes and dislikes. Did you see how attentive Jason was
during breakfast this morning? I wouldn't have remembered that someone
preferred two cubes of sugar in his coffee if he or she wasn't special to
me."
"Like you know I like tea with milk and no sugar while I know you
prefer plain black coffee." I affirmed.
"Exactly."
"Stoner, are you trying to tell me they are in love with each other but
they are not aware of it?"
"Something like that. My gaydar is beeping out loud."
"Do you think," I hesitated," we should confront them?"
"Maybe not. But then I have no experience in coming out on my own terms
since I was forced into admitting my sexuality so I wouldn't know how long
it would take. It could be disastrous if they got married and didn't
realize they were gay."
"Or we could be wrong. Gaydar isn't exactly always accurate."
"I will overlook that insult," Marcus smiled. I didn't return his smile
because I was busy thinking how to tackle the problem.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Marcus intruded.
"Oh just weighing the pros and cons about wringing a confession out of
Jason and Eliot," I joked.
"Well you have something more important to think about, for instance,
what you should be wearing for your birthday party tomorrow night," Marcus
said.
"I thought you had forgotten about it," I rested my head on his broad
shoulders.
"I wouldn't dare," he laughed.
**************
The party was a simple fare of pineapple rice, sauteed chicken, fruit
punch, assorted vegetables and fruits. There was also my favorite low-fat
ice cream. Marcus had booked the entire restaurant and the only guests
were Jason, Eliot, Andrew and Gabriel. He had hired an accomplished duet
consisting of a violinist and a pianist from London to perform selected
classical pieces such as Beethoven's famous Sonatas. We were dressed in a
Hawaiian-style of brightly colored floral shirt, short pants with bouquets
of bougainvillea around our necks. Andrew was slightly more talkative than
usual and I was glad that his time with Gabriel had helped.
We were nearing the end of the celebrations, partaking the cake when
Marcus produced a bouquet of red roses from behind his back.
"It's a little late for roses, Stoner," I said sheepishly as I accepted
the bouquet.
"Not for what I intend to do," he promised. He fumbled for something in
his pants and fished out two velvet trinkets.
"I bought these specially from Tiffany's. There are only two of the
same kind available. One is for me while the other is for you," He lifted
the casing and removed a slender silver ring, studded with sparkling
diamonds. The diamonds were arranged to form the letters TO MY HUSBAND,
STONER.
I stared at Marcus, uncertain what to do or what to say. This was
unprecedented.
"With this ring, I wed thee, Jonathan Anderson Bancroft. In sickness
and in health, in poverty and in riches. Heaven and earth be my witnesses,"
Marcus took the initiative and slipped the ring in his hand onto my finger,
altering the time immemorial vows slightly to adapt to our needs. The words
TO MY HUSBAND, JB were clearly visible on the ring.
"With..with..," I began and stopped, breathless with excitement. Jason
and Eliot were holding their hands while Gabriel draped a loose arm over
Andrew's shoulder. They were waiting for my decision.
"I paid more than a million for each ring, in case you are recalling
your joke about not marrying me even if I gave you a million dollars," he
teased, erroneously thinking that I was reluctant. The truth was I was
moved beyond words.
I took a deep breath and said, "With this ring, I wed thee, Marcus
Cornelia Stone. In sickness and in health, in poverty and in riches. Heaven
and earth be my witnesses." I slipped the ring onto his finger.
There was a series of loud clapping and I didn't realize the duet that
was playing on the stage had long left the restaurant. Marcus and I kissed
amidst the congratulations and support of our family. It was one of the
most profound moment in my life.
Later on, as we held each other inside the confines of our suite, I
finally realized the significance of what I had done and cried with
elation.
"What's the matter, darling?" Marcus said.
"Too happy," I confessed.
Marcus laughed. "You are the most unfathomable creature in the world.
One minute you can tear at a touching speech and the next you can cry just
because you are moved. And before I know it, you can muster the courage to
run down anyone who dares to threaten the lives of your loved ones."
"But I am the man you married," I reminded him.
"Indeed you are and I am your husband from today onwards," my heart
lurched at the use of the intimate term. My husband.
"I pledge my life to you for eternity," he declared solemnly.
"I pledge mine to you as well forever," I said.
"I know you already did when you tried to save me that night," Marcus
whispered.
"I think I shouldn't have taken that pledge," I announced after we
stripped ourselves naked and laid on the bed.
"What do you mean by that?" Marcus reached into the covers and held my
cock.
"I mean ever since our lives converged again, everything's been a wild
ride. The murders. Patricia's scheming. Betty's brother. Andrew. I had
wanted a quiet life where I can paint in peace, count the stars at night
and dabble in all sorts of art form," I answered.
"And I haven't been able to provide you with that," Marcus
muttered. His hand had stopped stroking my dick. I knew he was upset.
"And I would have happily given up all that to be with you," I told him
and reached for him.
"Truly?" he smiled.
"With all my heart," I proclaimed seriously. "Of course, next time when
you decide to lecture me on something regardless of whether I was wrong or
not, be kind and understand that I am still trying to fit into this cosmic
chaos we have created."
He heaved with laughter. "I can't believe you are still smarting from
all those things I have said when I was angry with you."
"You don't mince your words when you are convinced that you are right,"
I reminded him and closed my eyes to breathe in his scent.
"Okay no promises but I will try. In that case, I guess I should let
you know, no matter what I do or say to you in the future, it is always
done to safeguard your interests," he said and resumed stroking my manhood.
"So who shall be the rider and who shall be the stallion tonight?"
Marcus teased.
"Your wish is my command, my husband," I batted my eyes at him in mock
obedience. He roared with laughter.
CHAPTER 9 (COMING OUT I)
Jason splashed generous amounts of water running from the tap onto his
face, trying to clear his mind. What was he thinking? Why was he so aroused
by Eliot's sleeping form? He glanced at himself through the mirror. He
wasn't ugly but neither was he exceptionally good-looking. He was starting
to bald a little in the middle but he had inhibited the hair from falling
too rapidly with the use of lotions. It wasn't obvious since he liked to
keep his blond hair short but Eliot had noticed and commented on it. After
that he had been obsessed with his hairstyle. Why did Eliot's opinions
matter so much to him? His eyelashes were beautifully thin and long,
spreading like an elegant fan over his blue eyes. His face was a perfect
oval, with a sculpted nose, a cleanly shaven, jutting chin and a pair of
ears that tapered back. The only incongruent feature was his bushy eyebrows
but he had kept it since Eliot said it enhanced his masculinity. Why did
it always come back to Eliot?
He turned off the tap, dried himself with a towel and entered the
room. The lights were dimmed and he could hear Eliot's even breathing in
the darkness. He laid down beside the fully-clothed man and appraised
him. Jason didn't dare to undress him, less he couldn't control himself and
committed something he was going to regret in the morning. Tentatively, he
rest his head on top of Eliot's. They were roughly the same in height, he
knew. His mouth of its own volition, gradually sought Eliot's and before he
could back out in time, he kissed Eliot. Eliot moaned and responded. Jason
embraced Eliot and they stayed there locked together in each other's
arms. Somewhere in the tumults of his mind, Jason knew this was wrong. He
was not gay. But he didn't care because the sensations that he was feeling
now were too incredible to give up.
**************
Eliot awoke with a start at the unfamiliar taste of tongue in his
mouth. He groggily sat up, mistaking the person in his bed to be a woman he
had picked up belatedly realizing he hadn't gone cruising last night. He
turned and tried to focus. A man? How odd? Then it hit him like a sudden
boom of thunder. It was Jason! They had kissed and fallen asleep in each
other's arms! Eliot scrambled out of the room, not caring that he looked
like a mess. He had only one destination in mind.
**************
I stretched and rubbed my eyes, mentally cursing whoever it was
pounding on my door. Last night, my husband had played with my body like a
skilled fiddler and there was a soreness in my thighs as I walked rigidly
towards the door, lethargically wrapping my naked body with a bed cover. My
heart still fluttered whenever I thought of Marcus as my husband. I was
still smiling at that image when I saw Eliot's pale face.
"Bro, is something wrong?" I inquired, letting him into the suite. He
was shaking, I realized and he hadn't changed out of the clothes he had
worn last night. I led him to the pantry, not wanting to disturb Marcus
who was still sleeping. Fortunately, there was a pot of hot water and I
fixed Eliot a cup of coffee.
"Here take this, a dose of caffeine helps," I said, handing him the
cup.
He took a sip and tried to get a grip of himself but failed. He was
trembling even more vigorously.
"Eliot what's going on?" I reiterated, as I soothingly rubbed his back.
Just then there was another loud knock on the door. I answered it and
admitted a disheveled Jason into the room.
"Is Marcus awake?" he asked, forgetting to greet me in his hurry.
"No, but Eliot's here if you need someone to talk to," I provided,
leading him to a rotating seat beside Eliot. Eliot looked like he was about
to balk out of the room.
"Coffee?" I asked. Both of them just sat there, staring at their hands.
"Please don't tell me that I was rudely awakened by my brother and my
good friend on the first day after my wedding just to sit here and talk to
myself," I tried to make fun of the situation, hoping to break the ice. It
backfired and suddenly the room temperature went down several notches. I
was thinking it may just snow.
After several minutes, Eliot said quietly," I think I should be going."
Out of the blue, Jason banged on the table and yelled at Eliot," Okay
we kissed, what is so fucking wrong with it?!"
I stood there speechless. Eliot repeated his words, " I think I should
be going."
"Oh no, you don't. Eliot Troy, we are going to thrash things out right
now," Jason bit out angrily, grabbing Eliot by the shoulders. Eliot
resisted and before I could put a stop to it, Eliot's palm connected with
Jason's cheeks.
"Let go of me!" Eliot cried.
The altercation had alerted Marcus as he sat up on the bed and said
grouchily, "What the hell's going on?"
Jason dumped Eliot back in the chair and sat back down.
"Bro, what did Jason mean by 'we kissed'?" I said, after both of their
tempers had simmered to a low boil. Marcus had brushed, shaved and was
sipping on his coffee in a quiet corner.
"I...I don't remember," Eliot stammered," Last night, when Marc had
proposed to you and you had accepted, I...I... was giddy with happiness for
the both of you and so had too much to drink. Jason had helped me back to
my room and this...this...morning, when I woke up, I found us locked in a
wet...ki..ss."
"It was just a kiss, okay we hugged. What is such a big deal about it?"
Jason interrupted.
"You don't go around kissing and hugging a male friend unless you have
some fantasies about him," I explained.
"I'm not gay if that's what you are saying, Jonathan," Jason said
coldly.
"Do you truly think so?" Marcus questioned.
"Fuck you. Even though both of you are happily married, there is no
bloody reason to think the rest of the world is gay!" Jason swore. It was
the first time I had heard him cursed this vehemently since high school.
"If you aren't gay, why are you trying so hard to deny it?" Marcus
argued.
"I...I..no.., you are fucking wrong Marc," Jason yelled.
"Did you enjoy the kiss, Jason?" Marcus persisted.
Then Eliot burst into tears.
"Are you all right, bro?" I comforted him.
"No, I'm not. I loved kissing you, Jason. I loved the feel of your
tongue inside me. I loved quarrelling with you, having meals with you..."
Eliot rambled on.
"So it's all your fault, you...you..." Jason shot Eliot an icy glare
before striding out of the suite in a huff.
I held Eliot in my arms as he cried his heart out.
"What a fucking mess," Marcus said and I couldn't agree with him more.
**************
Eliot and Jason's problem hung over the horizon like a thunderstorm,
threatening to crackle and burst into horrendous showers. Marcus had
prevailed on the court regarding Andrew's plea to be absent from the
trial. Anthony was sentenced to twenty years in jail while Margaret
received a lighter punishment of five years, for her cooperation with the
police in locating the bomb. I had decided to keep the proceedings of the
trial from Andrew but Marcus thought otherwise. So did Gabriel, who had
grown more concerned about Andrew since we came back from Hawaii. Both
Eliot and Jason had left immediately after their heated argument, the day
after Marcus and I got married.
Marcus intended to make our marriage official but I had coerced him
into delaying it, as it wasn't a good idea then to give the media a
delicious piece of news such as a fairytale marriage between the most
eligible bachelor in the world with his gay partner to chew on. We were
swamped with things to take care of as it was. There was Andrew's
resettlement, Eliot's refusal to take any of my calls and Jason's
indifference. He only dropped by to inform Marcus of the latest development
in his company, Smith Technologies. Marcus was the sole investor after
Jason rejected Eliot's offer to inject funds. Beyond that Jason was like a
remote stranger.
The press had conjured tasty morsels of information over the collective
show of extravagance my husband and my friends had displayed during the
charity show. Connoisseurs of the trade were actively buying paintings
signed by Jon B. I was musing over what the curator of the gallery near my
old apartment would say when I heard the crunching noise of tyres on gravel
outside. Who could it be? Marcus was away in Rome to negotiate a deal on
building wafer fabrication factories. Gabriel and Andrew had tagged
along. I didn't feel up to travelling and had stayed behind in New York.
Just then, Jason walked into the observatory, preceded by Philip, our
butler. The observatory was a small extended in-house garden at the
western wing of the mansion. A semi-ovular shelter made of glass panels
sheltered it from the elements.
"Mr. Smith is here to see you," Philip intoned formally.
"Thank you, Philip. That would be all," I said, politely dismissing the
butler.
"Would you like a drink, Jason?" I asked, gesturing to the jug of
lemonade on the ornate garden table.
"That won't be necessary. I just came to give you the invitation to my
wedding."
"What wedding? To whom?" I said, shocked by the abruptness of his
decision.
"Everything's inside the invitation card," he threw a pink-colored card,
elaborately decorated with silver and gold paper carvings, onto the table.
I snatched the card and read the contents. I was only searching for two
names and found them printed between two swans. Jason Smith and Samantha
Fielding.
"Are you serious? Samantha? Who's Samantha?"
"Samantha, human resource manager of the Strategic Division," he
provided numbly.
I tried to concentrate but could only fetch a vague image of the woman's
face in my mind.
"When did this happen? Have you told Eliot? " I asked.
"Screw you Jonathan. Just inform Marcus and keep that...that conniving
bastard brother of yours out of it."
"Jason Halliwell Smith, you will not use such derogatory terms to
describe Eliot," I scolded, angered at his groundless accusations.
"Oh just go on, enjoy your happy gay lives and keep the hell out of my
business," he flung the words out furiously and strode out of the place.
I heard the car sped off before I realized I hadn't congratulate him on
the good news. But was there cause to be happy?
CHAPTER 10 (COMING OUT II)
I tried to call Eliot several times over the next few days. Jason's
wedding was in a week's time and I wasn't about to let him make a rash
decision. Eliot had to confront Jason before the wedding. Marcus was due to
fly back tomorrow from Rome, a day before the actual ceremony. He had
warned me to not interfere. I ignored his advice.
"You will tell me where Mr. Troy has gone to," I demanded, raising my
voice at the poor secretary who took the call. Marcus was right, I did
bully others just to protect the people I cared about.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Troy has specific instructions to..." she began, droning
on in that lifeless voice of hers, hoping that I would buy her story.
"Look here, lady. Either you tell me where Mr. Troy is or I will storm
into the office and make a scene," I lied.
"I already said..." she insisted.
"Or the alternative is when I do find Mr. Troy on my own, I can suggest
that he sack a certain unhelpful secretary," I threatened. "I'm sure you
are aware of how close I am to Mr. Troy."
"I....I...." she said. Finally, she relented and told me Eliot had gone
to visit Mr. Kensington.
"James Kensington?" I asked, making sure.
"Yes, Mr. Bancroft, could you please put in a few good words for me?"
the secretary begged.
"Look, Diane isn't it? Don't worry, I didn't mean what I said. You are a
great secretary and it is Eliot's loss if he fired you," I assured her and
hung up.
What was Eliot doing with James Kensington at an old folks home?
**************
"JB, don't meddle into others affairs," Marcus said into the cell phone,
tempering his voice when he recalled his promise to be less harsh with his
husband even though he maybe doing something he felt was wrong.
"They are family, Stoner. Anyway I'm just making a trip to an old folk's
home. Nothing drastic," Jonathan replied.
Marcus shook his head in resignation. JB wasn't going to be persuaded
once he conceived of a way he thought would make everyone happy. Not his
outwardly weak and passive JB who displayed a ruthless determination to
want the best for all his loved ones. Marcus knew Jonathan was heading for
trouble by confronting Eliot. It was he thought, the most endearing and
frustrating quality of his husband. Marcus also knew it was also the reason
why he loved Jonathan even more with each day. He had believed that there
was an upper ceiling to how much he could love someone but the emptiness in
his heart had grown instead of diminishing the longer he spent with
JB. Jonathan had touched him with his zest for life and immense capacity to
love others.
"Okay but make sure you bring a bodyguard along," Marcus said.
"Will do, bye. Love you," Jonathan blew him a kiss and disconnected the
call.
Marcus was already busy making backup plans in case Jonathan's endeavor
blew up in their faces.
**************
"Young man, why did you take so long to visit me?" James Kensington
grumbled as he pushed the wheelchair towards Eliot.
"I have been busy with work, James," Eliot smiled. Strange that he
actually liked the old man when he was senile. He had found James
Kensington to be more approachable and amiable.
"Did you bring my vodka?" James asked, his face brimming with
excitement as his aged eyes darted about sneakily, afraid that someone had
overhead him.
"No, the doctors said you shouldn't be drinking," Eliot chided.
"Them shrinks are a bunch of pussies, a little drink ain't gonna hurt,"
James whined.
"Now don't start with me about the doctors," Eliot smiled.
"Fine," James pouted.
Just then a nurse, a lady in her middle forties, picked her way through
the group of old people.
"Sorry Mr. Troy, Mr. Kensington has an appointment with the doctors,"
she apologized.
"No, I don't want to see any shrink today. I only want Eliot," James
wailed like a baby.
"Now, James. Be a good boy. I will bring you a bottle of vodka next
time," Eliot wondered if there was going to be a next time. He had
carefully avoided visiting James Kensington for fear that Marcus would find
out and harm the poor old man. Marcus was less vengeful now that Jonathan's
back but Eliot could still detect a palpable merciless streak in
him. Suddenly Jason's image popped into his mind and Eliot hastily fought
back the rush of tears that handsome face brought.
"Eliot Troy, when are you going to return my calls?" a soft voice said.
"Jon?" Eliot spun around to face the man he had acknowledged as his
brother.
"Nice of you to remember my name," Jonathan joked.
"How did you know I was here?" Eliot asked with animosity.
"Your secretary told me. Before you say something moronic as to ask me
to leave, I came to tell you Jason is getting married to Samantha
Fielding," Jonathan announced.
Eliot staggered and would have fallen had Jonathan not caught him in
time.
**************
"How about tulips for the bouquet?" Samantha suggested
enthusiastically, as she glanced through the catalogue.
"Anything," Jason replied dispassionately.
"How many tiers for the cake? Three? Or four?"
"Up to you, I'm not an expert in wedding preparations," Jason said.
"I'm thinking of four bridesmaid, is that okay with you?"
"Fine with me. Look, I need to go through some reports. If you need any
advice, I'm sure Veronica would be glad to offer her assistance," Jason
offered politely.
Jason didn't care how the wedding went. He just wanted to show Eliot
and his happy little gay family that he was straight. That deceitful scum
had seduced him and made him confused about his sexuality. How dare Marcus
implied that he was gay?! Jonathan was no help, he was on Eliot's
side. Everyone he trusted was against him. Yet he was worried about Eliot
because he hadn't seen him in days. Did Eliot eat well? Did he sleep well?
Jason mentally scolded himself. Why bother?
**************
"Sam?" Veronica inquired.
"Hey Veron, do you mind being my bridesmaid? I'm getting married to
Jason the day after tomorrow," Samantha requested.
"Sure, I would be happy to be your bridesmaid. Are you sure about this?
Marriage is a huge commitment. I know Jason's a trustworthy man but isn't
all this too sudden?" Veronica said.
"Veron why can't you be happy for me just this once? I have finally
found a man who appreciates me for who I am," Samantha scolded.
"Okay, okay. Congratulations. Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow
then regarding the dress code and stuff?" Veronica conceded, she could feel
a hint of bitterness in Samantha's voice she had never felt before.
"C'ya," Samantha hung up.
"Was that Samantha? She's marrying Jason?" Patrick asked.
"Yeah, the day after tomorrow."
"Did she say why?" Patrick questioned, shifting uncomfortably in his
seat.
"Nope," Veronica answered. She could see that Patrick was unsettled by
the news. It was a natural reaction but Patrick's reaction was more acute
than hers.
Patrick mumbled something inaudible.
**************
I looked at the man at the table, dressed in an expensive tailored suit
of vanilla white, twirling a glass of whisky in his hands. There was
something desolate and pitiful about him but I couldn't quite put my finger
on what. Perhaps it was the way his eyes were drawn in, or the
imperceptible shiver of his fingers or even the contorted expression on his
face. It took all of my imagination to associate this man with the dynamic
brother I knew.
"Eliot?" I prodded. He had been sitting there like a hurt animal over
the past hour or so.
"Did..did he say when?" Eliot replied.
"Fifteenth of this month, which means the day after tomorrow."
He gripped the stem of the glass with such violence I thought it would
break into two. There were a million things I wanted to ask him but I was
afraid he would shatter if I exerted even the merest pressure. In his
current state, Eliot reminded me of a newly baked clay vase. Fragile and
vulnerable.
"God...why? Why?" he sobbed suddenly. Fortunately I had chosen a quiet
corner in the cafeteria else we would have caused heads to turn.
I held his hands and said, "Look bro, there is still time. If you tell him
how you feel..."
He glared at me and gritted, "And what? Have him throw it in my face? You
saw what he did when I opened my heart to him. He got himself married. That
moron found himself a girl."
"Perhaps he can't handle the fact that he was gay or even bisexual. The
fact is I think both of you are in love and people in love do silly things
to hurt each other," I counseled.
"That's what you think! Do you think it's easy for me to find out that
I am gay after all these years of deceiving myself, of willingly letting
myself be dominated by women? I almost married Patricia without knowing the
real me," he raved like a lunatic.
"The real me? How dramatic! Twin personalities, me Eliot Troy! I think
I should thank you for unraveling the web of lies I have spun around
myself. But I hate you. I wish you would burn in hell with all your
homosexual theories!" he snatched his hands away as if I have grown thorns.
I looked at him, assailed by waves of sadness and hurt. I thought I was
helping him when I analyzed his feelings that morning in Hawaii, after
Jason left and we were alone in the suite. Marcus had made up an excuse
about wanting to take a dip in the sea.
Eliot hadn't realize that deep down he had always known that he got
involved with abusive women until that day. Subconsciously, he harbored the
secret dream that a strong, dependable man would descend from the heavens
like an angel and rescue him. Had he really wanted to succumb to a woman's
will, he would not have the clarity of mind or courage to want to save
Marcus and me. But when he was once again forced into a similar situation
after Robert Troy named him the president of Troy Associates, Jason had
shown up. Eliot had no experience managing a large corporation, let alone
facing businessmen who were like vultures ready to prey on him once they
spot a weakness in his armor. Jason had taught him how to protect himself
and in doing so, gained entry into the sacred grounds of Eliot's
heart. When Marcus and I got married, Eliot was shocked to realize that he
had wished Jason and he was a couple too. He was petrified and had tried to
drink himself senseless. After that, it was as if fate decided to make fun
of his predicament and got Jason to kiss him in his bed.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know, honest," I apologized profusely. What
more could I say? I was the one responsible for introducing Jason to him.
"Don't expect me to forgive you. I won't give you the satisfaction of
out of here without feeling the pain you have caused me," he said, dripping
with venom. It was blood curdling that a man like Eliot could be capable of
such deep hatred.
"Eliot I didn't mean to," I argued, hoping to reason with him.
"Jason thinks he has won, did he? Well, we'll see," Eliot said, his
eyes narrowing into slits like a cobra preparing to strike.
At that moment, I regretted not heeding Marcus's advice.
CHAPTER 11 (AND THEY ALL FALL DOWN)
"Hey baby," Marcus greeted. I wanted to cry at his voice.
"Stoner, they hate me. Eliot hates me. Jason despises me," I told him
tearfully.
"What have I done? Oh what have I done?" I kept repeating myself.
"Hush, darling. It's not your fault. They are just angry, lashing out
their pain at others," he consoled. Even though he was thousands of miles
away, it still felt good to hear his comforting words.
"Do you think so? I tried, love. I really did. I didn't think I would
hurt Eliot. Oh, I'm such a fool not to listen to you," I said into the
phone.
"Calm down and tell me what happened." I did as he said.
After a long while, he asked, "Do you still want to help them?"
"Yes, I would do anything to help them, anything! But I'm at my wits'
end." I said desperately.
"I have a plan and it may just work but you would have to patient and
wait for me when I get back from Rome. Here's what I intend to do..."
I listened carefully as my husband dictated the instructions.
**************
Patrick stared at the letter on his table, his hands trembling. There
was no signature on the printed paper but the contents were sufficient to
make him shiver. What did she meant when she said she would sacrifice
herself to protect his name? He thought about her constantly even though he
had initiated the break-up. She was a lovely flower in bloom and he was
just a grizzled bee, drinking the nectar of her youth. She should not be
stuck with an old man like him. But in the letter she had said she loved
him and questioned his love for her. She had hinted at a chance at
reconciliation, did he dare to do as she suggested?
**************
Jason blindly shook hands with the guests, acknowledging them with a
cursory nod of his head. His mind was on the contracts that arrived earlier
on. Despite it being his wedding day, he was not in the mood to
celebrate. There was still plenty of work to do. Samantha was stunning in
an ivory gown embroidered with pearls and diamonds but so were some of the
models he had dated before. Then he saw Eliot. The bastard was in a sharp
black tuxedo and there were two lovely women clinging onto him as he walked
through the doors of the church. Jason recognized their faces from some
magazine, they were celebrities or models of some sort. But the ladies were
inconsequential, it was the look of disdain that Eliot gave him as he
approached that annoyed Jason.
"Congratulations, Mr. Smith," Eliot said silkily, untangling one arm to
shake Jason's hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Troy. I see you have found yourself some interesting
company. I trust you are enjoying yourself?" Jason replied, his voice
sweeter than honey.
"Of course, what else did you think I would be doing? Cry my heart out?
I should be rejoicing that my good friend is getting married, shouldn't I?"
Eliot said in an off-handed manner.
"I was thinking you should have brought along a different company,
since you are, oh how should I phrase it? Queer?" Jason said with a
satisfied smile.
Eliot chuckled and explained to the ladies, "My friend, Mr. Smith has a
weird sense of humor. I hope he hasn't offended both of you. Oh Jason, did
I mention this to you before? I just proposed to Michelle here. We are
getting married next month."
Jason's eyes widened with surprise. Eliot did not wait for his reply
and strolled along to mingle with the crowd.
**************
"What exactly did Eliot say to Jason?" I asked worriedly.
"Apparently something scathing or shocking, judging from Jason's
furious expression," Marcus said dryly.
"What's with the women? Is Eliot trying to prove a point?"
"I think he is."
"I could murder the two of them for being so immature."
"I have a feeling they are thinking of doing the same thing to us,"
Marcus commented wryly.
"Do you think Patrick got the letter?" I asked.
"I wouldn't know. Let's pray he did."
"Did Jason invite every newspaper, station and magazine to the
wedding?" I glanced at the numerous reporters scattered around the
place. Fortunately, none of them pestered Marcus and I. But Brady and four
other guards had already formed a circle around us as a precaution.
"Looks so to me," Marcus concurred.
"I hope this works," I said honestly.
"So do I, darling. So do I," Marcus affirmed.
**************
"Should there be anyone who objects to this holy union, speak up or
forever hold your peace," the priest intoned.
"I do," Patrick stood up and stomped menacingly down the aisle.
"Sam, I love you. You can't marry Jason. I'm sorry for hurting you but
I thought you would be better off with someone younger. Please forgive me
for not appreciating you for who you are," Patrick professed as he grabbed
Samantha's hand and pulled her away.
Samantha gave a cry of joy and threw herself into Patrick's arms.
The place was instantly in an uproar, cameras flashing, reporters
thrusting microphones while Jason fended them off. Patrick and Samantha had
taken advantage of the chaos and escaped.
**************
"It worked! Stoner, it worked!" I exclaimed.
"I know darling, but we only prevented the wedding. There's still Jason
and Eliot to take care of," Marcus reminded me.
"Do you have a plan to fix them up?" I begged with hopeful eyes.
Marcus shook his head. "Actually we have caused enough trouble
already."
I felt a gust of wind driving away the clouds of happiness.
I saw Eliot advancing on a harassed Jason, surrounded by reporters and
didn't think twice about it. It was to be my mistake.
**************
Jason was ready to do bodily harm to anyone who dared to provoke
him. Why did Samantha run away with Patrick? And what was with that
profession of love? He backhanded a stray microphone and barged his way out
of the irritating mob that was hurling hundreds of questions at him. Didn't
these people comprehend the meaning of the words 'No Comments'? In his
haste, he collided into someone. It was Eliot.
"Now who is gay? Your fiancee just left you on the altar," Eliot
jeered.
Jason punched Eliot in the face.
**************
"Jason, Eliot stop it!" I screeched.
"Disperse the crowd and make sure nobody takes anymore pictures,"
Marcus ordered, "JB help me separate them."
Marcus and I joined in the melee and after suffering a punch in the
right eye, I managed to pull Eliot free. Marcus was holding onto a deranged
Jason.
"Clear the way," Marcus shouted above the din. The reporters had
refused to budge, insisting for an explanation for what had
happened. Luckily, they had stopped taking photos.
"Eliot snap out of it!" I shook him. He was struggling violently while
I tried to hold him captive with my arms.
When we finally got into the limousine, I was exhausted. Eliot was
restrained by Cray who had taken the same ride as me while Marcus and Jason
were in another car. I was too weary to attempt to start a conversation
even though I knew it wouldn't be of much use. Eliot was yelling and
screaming like a caged animal. I didn't think he was capable of such
barbaric fury. He had always looked so civilized and cultured to me. So did
Jason.
We were shown into a presidential suite of some posh hotel. I wasn't in
the frame of mind to take note of the name of the place. Brady was among
the guards posted outside the door and Marcus was already lounging in a
sofa when I entered.
"Jason's inside the master bedroom," Marcus provided when I shot him a
questioning look.
"Cray, leave Mr. Troy inside the same room as Mr. Smith and lock the
door," I instructed. Eliot stopped ranting and glared at me. I ignored him.
Moments after the bedroom door slammed shut, I could hear the sound of
breaking glass, obscene swearing, yelling and the thudding noise of
furniture being upturned coming from within.
"JB, are you sure you want to do this?" Marcus demanded. He was
bristling with displeasure. I knew he didn't approve of what I just did.
"Yes," I confirmed, fed up of their childish behavior. " If they love
hurting each other so much, they can jolly well kill themselves in there."
Marcus sighed. "How's the eye?"
"Stings like hell," I grouched, nursing the ache around my right eye.
The fighting inside the room wasn't showing signs of breaking. Instead
it appeared to get even more fierce.
"Cray you are a qualified nurse, right?" I asked. Cray nodded.
"Good, cos we may need your first aid knowledge in awhile," I said.
There was a shrill cry of terror. Marcus and I ran for the master
bedroom, got Cray to unlock it and peered in. Jason was clutching Eliot in
his arms and hastily drying the blood flowing from his forehead with his
shirt.
"Shit! Marc, get me some bandages, wads of cotton, clean water and
antiseptic lotions," Jason shouted. "Jon, I need a pillow. Hurry."
CHAPTER 12 (ACCEPTANCE)
Jason tenderly touched the piece of cotton strapped across Eliot's
forehead, as his lover laid on the bed. The cut was quite deep and would
leave an indelible scar but it wasn't life threatening. Jason was grateful
to the bodyguard whose name he had found out was Cray for his timely
assistance. Jonathan had called for a doctor immediately. There were
bruises around Eliot's ribs, shoulders and cheeks. Jason knew all of them
were inflicted by him. But he wasn't spared either. Eliot had thrown an
uppercut at him that left his jaw aching.
"Hey," Jason croaked as he saw Eliot's eyes fluttering open. Marcus,
Jonathan and their bodyguards had helped to clear up the mess in the master
bedroom. It wasn't necessary to send Eliot to the hospital.
"Where...what?" Eliot tried to focus.
"We are in a hotel suite and you were grazed by a broken leg from a
table that I swung at you," Jason explained.
"You!" Eliot tried to sit up but yelped in pain.
"Easy love," Jason cooed and gently pressed Eliot back onto the bed,"
You should be resting."
"Why...why are you being so nice, you...you monster?" Eliot gritted.
"Because I'm afraid I would lose you," Jason declared solemnly.
"Whaa..t?" Eliot said, stunned.
"I love you, Eliot. I don't want to lose you," Jason said, stroking
Eliot's cheek.
"Are you accepting your sexuality?" Eliot wasn't convinced. "You
bastard, if you are patronizing me, I swear I will hire a hit-man and kill
you."
"Tsk, tsk, such violence is unbecoming of you," Jason teased.
Eliot frowned. "Okay, I was lying but you haven't answered my
question."
"Yes, I am gay. I'm sorry I took so long to accept it and in the
process I have hurt you and almost destroyed any chance we could have of
being together," Jason proclaimed.
Eliot smiled. "Am I dreaming?" he said.
"No, you are not. Now sleep, my handsome lover," Jason said.
The words had came unbidden and Jason was surprised he felt so
comfortable with them. He had been frightened that he would lose himself if
he admitted to being gay but he had assumed his new identity easily like it
was meant to be. He didn't feel queasy when he told Eliot he loved him nor
did he flinched when he voiced the words 'gay' out loud. Jason had always
thought the sweet talking between Marcus and Jonathan was mushy but he
didn't feel that way anymore.
**************
"Ouch," I groaned as Marcus carefully rotated the compress against the
bruise around my eye. The compress consisted of a boiled egg covered in a
damp cloth.
"Bear with it love, it will pass," Marcus said, shifting to a squatting
position beside the sofa.
"I think I should wear a full-plate armor or something, next time I
help you to break up a fight," I grumbled as another stab of pain streaked
through the right half of my face.
"Enrolling you in a karate or judo class would be a better idea,"
Marcus lessened the pressure he was applying.
"Probably," I agreed.
"Those two could have killed themselves in there," Marcus commented.
"I didn't think they would," I argued.
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "They wouldn't but accidents do happen," he
said.
"You promised to be patient when I make any mistakes, husband dear," I
said, fighting back another bout of pain.
"I know but you could have killed two good friend of ours," he
increased the pressure on the compress just to torture me.
"Sorry," I said simply. He sighed and smiled at me.
"What do you think they are doing inside the room?" I asked when Marcus
removed the compress.
"Making up, most probably," he replied.
"Let's hope they learn to take care of each other," I said.
"For someone who is constantly getting into trouble and waiting for me
to fix up the mess, you sound like an expert," Marcus teased.
"Drop it, will you," I pulled at his earlobes like he was a naughty boy
going around telling other's my dirty secrets.
"Well, I was going to say I agree with you about them learning to look
after each other," he grinned.
"Why?" I asked belatedly realizing how inane that sounded. Jason and
Eliot had only overcame the first hurdle. There was Eliot's father and the
media to worry about.
"How do you suppose we can help them?" I was already thinking of the
various possibilities that could obstruct the two lovebirds from being
together.
"Don't jump the gun, JB. First we take care of our sleeping
arrangements for the night," Marcus said.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
End of Part II
To be continued......