Beyond the Footlights, page 10
He turned his back on Tanner. “Ranch work is pretty physical.”
Tanner grunted but said nothing, and Kilmer turned back to face him.
Tanner quickly looked away. “Let’s go.” He abruptly moved for the door. “Lunch is on me.”
Kilmer followed him out, then stopped and turned to see the dog sitting just inside the door, looking out at them.
“Oh hell.” He slapped his thigh. “Come on, dog. Might as well come with. Can’t leave you on your own.”
He caught the knowing grin on Tanner’s face as he turned away, and Kilmer threw up his hands. “Well, we can’t.”
“You could actually. He’s a good dog. But it won’t hurt to bring him. We can eat on the patio.”
So the three of them packed into the bench seat of Tanner’s truck. The dog crowded between them, providing a drooling, wriggling topic of safely distracting commentary for the short drive to the diner.
10
LEN PEERED at Vance from across the kitchen. Kilmer thought he looked nervous. Or maybe confused. Kilmer didn’t blame him.
Monday morning had seen Kilmer back on a mostly even keel, ready for work. Only the first thing Vance did was haul him into the house for a meeting. Vance had announced his final tour dates, then proclaimed Kilmer would stay at the ranch while he was gone.
Len would be staying too, and he was clearly ill at ease with the tour, even though they all knew it was coming.
“You’re going to leave two submissive men here to look after each other?” Len finally asked. “Did you forget how well that didn’t go for me last time?”
Who could possibly forget what a disaster it had been when Len and his then-best-friend Trevor had lived together? The two had nearly destroyed one another before they’d finally found the right men to be with. It hadn’t been each other, and their friendship so far had not recovered.
“This isn’t the same thing,” Vance assured his lover, quickly closing the space that separated them and cupping the back of Len’s head with one big hand.
Kilmer looked away, trying very hard not to let jealousy burn a hole through his gut with that gesture. Not that he wanted that kind of consideration from Vance for himself. He didn’t. That chapter of their lives was long over. No. He just wanted someone to care that much about him, to touch him that tenderly, to look at him with that much love and regard.
And there, he should have thought of Jacko. Only he didn’t. His mind went immediately to Tanner and his heart thudded so heavily he wanted to hide the pulse at his throat under his palm. He stuffed both hands into his pockets instead and his breath caught at the scrape of the key over his knuckles.
“How do you figure?” Len’s voice, shaking as he spoke, wiggled under Kilmer’s distraction, and he forced himself to pay attention.
“You’re not the same person you were then, for one thing,” Vance assured him. “You’re stronger, and all that therapy hasn’t been for nothing, has it?”
Len gave back a rueful smile. “I sure as fuck hope not.”
“And besides”—Vance glanced to Kilmer—“you and Kil don’t even think of one another like that. Even a little bit.”
Len studied Kilmer for a moment. There was no reading his expression, but finally he grinned. “Ick. No.”
“Oh, thank you, asshole,” Kilmer grumbled, getting up from his seat at the table. “I’m going to feed the horses.”
“Kil.” Vance said his name in that voice, and Kilmer froze midstep. He cursed his weakness for obeying without even thinking, but then Vance’s hand was on his shoulder, warm and reassuring.
“You’re okay with this, aren’t you? I can—”
“No.” There was no way Vance was canceling a single tour date, not even rearranging it, to suit Kilmer. He was here to cover the ranch, to have Vance’s back so he could keep his music career on track. He’d dislocated his entire life years ago, knowing Vance would be in and out of it constantly.
The fiasco with Jacko changed nothing.
“Kil,” Vance said reasonably.
“Stop it, Van. You are not postponing this another day because of me. It’s been long enough.” He grimaced and shot a look to Len, realizing it sounded like he was blaming Len for the unscheduled hiatus Vance’s career had been on hold since Len had entered his life.
“No, it’s fine,” Len said, as if reading his mind. “You’re right. He’s spent a long time ignoring his career to look after me. The least I can do now is be grown-up enough to look after things here while he gets back on track.”
“Look after me, you mean.” The heat of resentment burning through him took Kilmer completely by surprise.
Len only shrugged. “If you want to see it like that. But dude. I know what it’s like to lose the most important thing in your life and not know what the hell you have left to stand on when it’s gone. You can resent me for empathizing, or you can accept that maybe I can help. Maybe I want to help. Because you helped me.”
Kilmer sighed and glared at the toes of his boots.
Len laughed softly. “It’s okay. I know I sound like a sanctimonious bitch. You don’t have to say anything.”
“I—”
“Kil.” Len got up and moved so his boots appeared in Kilmer’s lowered line of sight. “We are friends, aren’t we?”
Kilmer nodded.
“Then let me help. The ranch, you, whatever. Vance has a job to do that he can’t do here. We can get by together, can’t we?”
Of course they could. They were both grown men, and the end of a relationship wasn’t the end of the world. He straightened. “Of course. I’m being an idiot.”
“No,” Vance began, but Kilmer held up a hand.
“It’s fine. I am. Forget it. Go on tour. Same as always. I got your back.”
Vance nodded, but he was watching Kilmer, like he wasn’t convinced of Kilmer’s honesty.
“Len, go feed the horses,” Vance said, never looking away from Kilmer.
“Sure.” Len grabbed his hat and gloves and hurried out the back door.
“What?” Kilmer asked, backing off and setting his shoulders.
“You tell me. Something’s up.”
“Nothing is up. I have chores.”
“Talk to me, Kil. I can’t take off until I’m sure you’re on your game. This is my livelihood.”
Kilmer couldn’t help the snort. “Hardly. It’s your hobby. You don’t need a livelihood.”
Vance’s face darkened. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t be like that. You have enough money to build three more ranches like this, and you know it. This is no more your livelihood than it is Len’s. He mucks out stalls and putters in the barn because keeping busy is better than pretending it isn’t killing him not being on tour with his own band. You have this place so you have something fun and entertaining to do in your off time.”
Vance frowned and leaned on the counter. “None of that was ever an issue for you before. Not even after we broke up.”
Kilmer shook his head. “It isn’t an issue. Just don’t act like my running the place makes any difference to whether or not you’re doing this tour. You’re doing it because you need to be on that stage. The rest of us paddle around in your wake and wait.”
“Kil, what the hell?”
“Just don’t think Len is going to keep swallowing the domestic line forever. He needs the spotlight as much as you do. As much as fucking Jacko does. You keep him hidden away here much longer, you’ll lose him.”
“Jacko?” Vance asked, ignoring the rest of Kilmer’s tirade. “This is about Jacko?”
Kilmer curled a lip. It was about Len. Could Vance not see what he was doing to his lover? “It’s about remembering that Len is a person, not your plaything—” Or was he projecting?
“That’s about enough of that. You know that isn’t how Len and I are. Do not put your shit on us. If that was what you turned out to be for Jacko, that’s between you and him.”
“Fuck you.”
“You started it, so what’s the problem?”
“Forget it.” Kilmer snatched up his hat from the table and headed for the door.
“Kilmer!” The command slammed into him, halting him in his tracks.
“No!” He turned, finger pointed straight at Vance. “You do not get to use that on me.”
“And you don’t get to slam my relationship with Len because you got shafted. Jacko hurt you. I get that—”
“And yet you’re taking him on tour anyway.”
Vance nodded. “So it is about him.”
“You can fucking have him. Just make sure Len knows he’s going. You know how he gets about you hanging around with ex-lovers.”
“He knows.” Vance’s voice was so cold Kilmer’s breath caught. “It was his idea. He thought it would be good to get him someplace away from here so you wouldn’t have to worry about running into him. He figured if Jacko was with me, you could feel safe.” He settled back, arms crossed over his chest. “And as pissed as I am at Jacko right now, I happen to agree with Len. You don’t need him hanging around.”
Kilmer pursed his lips. “Don’t do me any goddamn favors,” he snarled and slammed out of the house.
11
“I TAKE it he didn’t take the news well about Jacko going on tour with you.” Len had spent the first hour in the barn trying to talk to Kilmer and the rest of the day tiptoeing around, trying to stay out of the furious man’s way. He understood Kilmer’s rage all too well. He only wished there was a way to help him work through it. Sadly that was also something he knew too well. The rage was Kilmer’s and no one could let it go for him. He had to do that himself.
Lying on his back next to him on the bed, Vance sighed. “I knew he’d be pissed.”
“How many names did he call you?”
That got a dry chuckle and another sigh. “That ain’t his way. He just… left. He threw off one of his one-line fuck-yous an’ walked out.”
“Didn’t talk much to me either. I guess you told him it was my idea?”
Vance rolled to his side and pinned Len with a leg across him. “It was a good idea, darlin’. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think so. We knew he wasn’t goin’ to take it well, but you’re right that he needs space.”
“Maybe they need to hash it out?”
“No. What Jacko did, that shit ain’t right. What Kilmer’s been doin’ to that relationship all summer and even before that? They are neither of them okay, and they need to stay away from each other.”
“Like Trev and me,” Len agreed with a sigh.
“You still miss him?”
“Course I do. Loads.” He managed a smile, despite his wobbling heart. “But this is best, and things are getting better. It takes time. I did a lot of damage. It isn’t going to fix itself, and I know he won’t trust me again right away.”
“But it hurts.” Vance ran a finger down Len’s cheek.
Len swallowed some of that pain and turned his face into the touch. He closed his eyes. “Yeah. It hurts.”
“I love you, darlin’. You know that. Right?”
Len nodded.
“What do you need?” Vance’s lips on his were tender, lingering.
“You,” Len whispered. “Fuck me? Please?”
Vance drew back. “How do you ask?”
Len drew in a deep breath and stilled under his lover. He met Vance’s steady gaze and a weight lifted inside, even as Vance’s body shifted to press him deeper into their mattress. “May I serve, Sir?”
Vance caressed his face again. “You most certainly may.” He rolled off Len and motioned to the bedside table. “Fetch your cuffs, darlin’.”
Len did as Vance ordered, grateful he still had this in his life. Yes, he understood Kilmer’s anger and hurt and the fear the other man was trying to bury. Even when Vance was away, Len would still have him. Vance would be his, and he would belong to his Sir, heart, mind, body, soul.
Kilmer now had to navigate without that beacon, and Len could sympathize with how unsettling that might be. Kilmer was a damn sight stronger than Len, but the thought of living without Vance, of living through being hurt by the one man he trusted with his life as Kilmer had been, it was beyond contemplation.
He was stretched out, mostly on his stomach, reaching to find the heavier cuffs in the drawer of the bedside table, when Vance, naked now, once more descended on him, heavy cock pressing to his backside.
“That will never be you, darlin’. I promise you that.” He kissed Len’s shoulder. “That will never be us.”
Len nodded. “I know that, Sir.”
“I need you to look after him for me, yeah? I can’t be here for him. I need you to be.”
“Of course.” He’d retrieved the cuffs, and he tucked them up close to his chest and clutched them tight. “Anything you want me to do, Sir. You know that.”
“Keep him safe.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“Stay close to him. He’s been drinkin’ a lot. Make sure he don’t go off the rails.”
Vance’s Texan was coming out stronger and stronger, a sure sign he was getting emotional.
Len squirmed until he was once more on his back. “I will, Sir, I promise. I’ll stay by him. Get him to play again, if I can. Take him down to the studio. Lay some tracks, maybe, get him to help me make it less….” He grinned.
It was a long-standing bone of teasing contention between them that any music Vance and Len worked on together had personality clashes of Vance’s country colliding with Len’s grunge roots.
Vance grinned back. “Let him teach you some country?”
“You think he can do what you can’t?”
Vance took the cuffs from him and grabbed his wrists to pin his hands over his head. “I think he might teach you a thing or two, yeah.” He kissed Len, deep and satisfying, stealing his breath away. “That boy’s got a fair bit of R&B in him. Might be worth picking his brain. Can’t sing worth a damn and can’t read a lick o’ music, but he can pluck a tune out of thin air like nothin’. Think you can handle that?”
Len stared up at him. “We’ll figure something out.” He wasn’t going to cast doubt. He couldn’t write the music down. His dyslexia kept what he heard in his head trapped there unless he had an instrument to get it out. If Kilmer couldn’t read music, they might have a problem, but he’d cross that bridge when it was time. Right now, his Dom needed to hear him say he would take care of one of the few real people in his life when he wasn’t going to be able to.
“I know you can do it,” Vance said, his tone confident. “Just like I know you can take me.” He ground his hips against Len and grinned. “You ready?”
Len nodded. “Yes, Sir. Always.”
12
THE ONLY upside to agreeing to stay at the ranch was Kilmer’s guilt-free decision to not return to town at the end of the workweek. There was no rush to get the work done, and Tanner had taken the dog back to his place. Kilmer didn’t want the responsibility of looking out for a mutt he wasn’t sure would get along with horses, so not returning to his house meant he didn’t have to deal with the animal. He would have put off working on the house indefinitely, but Vance pestered.
“We’ll come out and help,” he offered, nudging Len’s knee with his own.
Len sat on the couch, guitar in his lap, and he grinned up at Vance who stood next to him. Len snorted. “You think I was helpless around horses? Just wait and see what I’m like with power tools.”
“I don’t need—”
“You need to take that place back,” Vance interrupted Kilmer’s objection. “One way or another. Even if all you do is rent it out or sell it, you need to make it yours again, to do what you want with.”
He might be right. Thoughts of the house brought thoughts of trying to sleep in it, though, and where would he do that? In the spare room where he’d been banished for so long the cold sterility of it made him quake right down to his bones? Or in the master bed? He hadn’t been welcome there in so long, but what did that matter now that Jacko was gone? How could he sleep there without Jacko? He suddenly wished the few warm memories of working and eating with Tanner were enough to overpower the rest. They weren’t.
“Whatever.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He was tired, exhausted really, and he just didn’t want to think about any of it.
“What else are you going to do all weekend?” Len asked. He strummed the office’s worn old guitar, playing over the strings absently. He did that a lot these days, and the music practically oozed from his pores. He looked happy like Kilmer had feared he might never be when he’d first come. It was like their roles had reversed completely, and Kilmer wanted to crawl into a hole and turn his back on both his friends. He squared his shoulders because that wasn’t him. There was always work to get his mind off the crap.
“I’ll work. It’s a ranch. Not like I’m going to get bored with nothin’ to do.”
“Soon enough you’ll be on call 24-7,” Vance reminded him. “Take some time now while you can. I mean it. You are banned from working this place for the next three days.”
“Three!” Kilmer glared at him.
“Four, then,” Vance countered.
“Two! The weekend.”
“One more complaint and I make it five.”
“You can’t—”
“You work for me, remember? I can and I will. You need rest. You’re exhausted. You sleepin’ at all?”
They all knew he wasn’t. He’d remained in the upstairs bedroom across the hall from them, still reluctant to sleep in the cold downstairs room that reminded him too much of his room at the house. Kilmer was certain both Vance and Len had been wakened over the past two weeks by his unsettling dreams and by the incessant thumping of the bass guitar and amp he had purloined from Vance’s stash of unused instruments. He’d needed something to do when he didn’t dare go back to sleep. The deep, pounding lines of rhythm set on the lowest volume weren’t enough to soothe anything, but at least plucking out the half-remembered parts for songs he used to play had occupied his mind when the rest of the house was still and quiet.
