Beyond the Footlights, page 14
“A little overboard, don’t you think?” Tanner asked. He peered intently at Kilmer. “Unless there’s something about the situation I don’t know?”
This time Kilmer shrugged. “What’s to know? I kicked my long-term….” He made a face, aware he didn’t have a good way to explain what Jacko had been to him. Boyfriend wasn’t really the right word. Neither was partner or significant other. Nothing really explained it, because Kilmer didn’t want to ascribe the title of Master to the man anymore either, and especially not to Tanner. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to go there with the man yet. If ever.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets as the dog rocketed back to the compost and resumed his rooting. The tiny bell scraped across the backs of his fingers, and he closed them into a fist. Why was he even carrying the thing around with him?
“Yeah, well, that’s true,” Tanner said. “You did just do that, what? Two weeks ago?”
“Three. Ish.” He was stretching time, he knew. But this was all going so fast.
“Three weeks is not that long.”
“He moved out three weeks ago. The end was coming a long time before that. I knew it. I maybe didn’t want to watch the train wreck coming, but I knew it was going to happen. I think I was braced for it for a long time.”
“Doesn’t mean the wounds aren’t still pretty raw,” Tanner pointed out.
Kilmer supposed he might be right about that. He said nothing.
As Kilmer watched, Tanner drew in one deep breath, then another, as though fortifying himself.
“Don’t,” Kilmer said gently when Tanner opened his mouth to speak.
Tanner froze, stared at him, let out his breath in a whoosh, and tossed his hands, letting them land with a soft slap against his thighs. “Don’t what, Tex? Don’t acknowledge that maybe you aren’t ready? Maybe I moved too fast and that’s on me?”
“Not like I wasn’t into what happened last night,” Kilmer said. “I went looking, didn’t I?” He grinned feebly. “Okay, so I found a puppy when I wanted a wolf, but doesn’t change the fact I was looking.”
“I don’t know a gay man alive who wouldn’t take a freely offered blow job when his dick’s already rock-hard. I have no doubt you were into the sex. But you also fled your own house to avoid waking up next to me. So I’m not sure how I feel about it all.”
“Huh.” Kilmer let the little word slip. He hadn’t thought about it like that. “I—”
“Look. Your friends are here to help you with your house, and—I’m sure I’m not wrong about this—with your angst. Maybe I shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m not paying them. You saying you don’t want the job?”
Tanner studied Kilmer for a long time, making him uneasy. His reaction couldn’t just be about the awkwardness of finding himself alone in bed in someone else’s house, or of getting caught, literally, with his pants down by his one-night stand’s best friends. There had to be more to it, but damned if Kilmer knew what.
“You do know the man in your kitchen has the pull to make or break my actual career with a few words in the right circles, right?”
Kilmer groaned. Of course. None of this had anything at all to do with Kilmer. Tanner was a country singer, and that meant something to him. Maybe he was looking for the spotlight of a million fans, like Van, or a record deal, maybe a chance to get heard on the radio once or twice? So he wouldn’t turn his nose up at a shot. Could Kilmer really blame him for freaking out when he realized the best friend he’d just overexposed himself to was Vance Ashcroft?
Kilmer sighed. “If you think Vance would—”
“I have no idea, but I do know this is not the first impression I would have liked to make with him.”
Kilmer pinched the bridge of his nose and glared through a sudden bright sting at the dirt under his feet. “Of course.” He turned on his heel and whistled for the dog. “I lost track of what this was about for a sec there. Stay, go. Whatever.”
“Hey!”
Tanner’s grip on his arm was a shock. Kilmer swung around, yanking free and almost swinging, desperate not to get trapped, not to be contained just when the air was rushing out of his lungs and he didn’t know if he’d get it back.
“What did you just say?” Tanner demanded, pushing into his personal space, chest first.
Kilmer shoved him back and forced his lungs to work. The moment it took him to regain his equilibrium let him find coherent words as well. “Just commenting that it was my mistake to think a conversation about us and sex had something to do with me. Won’t happen again.” He would have turned back for the house, but Tanner pressed a hand to his chest, the touch as calming and soft as his had been aggressive.
Kilmer froze, then pulled in a deeper breath and let his shoulders, tensed for fight, relax.
In the next instant, he cursed himself silently for the deference. He didn’t owe the guy a damn thing. Sex was sex. They’d had it. It had been fun. Good. It had reminded Kilmer what sex was supposed to feel like. But that didn’t mean it meant anything to Tanner.
“Wait,” Tanner said. “Please. Let me start over.”
Kilmer crossed his arms over his chest, effectively removing Tanner’s hand from him. The dog wedged between them and leaned on Kilmer’s legs. Somehow the mutt’s weight reassured him and he squared his shoulders.
“I’m sorry.” Tanner met his eyes. “I didn’t mean that the way it… came out.” He lifted his shoulders, sighed, and tugged his hair back, so Kilmer had a clear view of his features, his earnest brown eyes, full lips, and tanned skin under the trimmed beard. “I just… it’s Vance Ashcroft, and I yelled at him like he was no one.”
Kilmer snorted. “Van’s just a guy. Fucking annoying bastard—”
“But he obviously cares about you.”
Kilmer relented slightly, because he would never deny Vance. “Yeah. He does. But sometimes he forgets I don’t actually belong to him the way Len does. I never did and never wanted to, and he gets a little carried away with his lord of the manor crap. He means well, but he doesn’t speak for me.”
“Fair enough. And please believe me that I can separate his name from us. It was a shock to see him standing there and me in my freckles.”
“You have freckles?”
A grin snuck partway onto Tanner’s face. “It really isn’t how a guy expects to meet his idol.”
Another snort escaped Kilmer before he could get a handle on it. He knew, academically at least, that people got starstruck over Vance. But it was Vance. He’d known the guy before he’d been anyone. He’d watched him fall off his first horse. They’d skinned knees and swum in the creek together. He was Kilmer’s best friend, and the rest was window trappings he never really thought about.
“I forget he’s that guy to a lot of people. I shouldn’t have freaked out.”
“No, that was justified.” Tanner grinned, but it fell away quickly. “And I get why he’s pissed. You just came out of something, and I’ll put money on my not knowing the entire story.”
Kilmer was glad when he didn’t wait for a reply to that.
“Doesn’t matter how long you knew it was coming, you’re still adjusting, and to be perfectly honest, I’ve been the rebound guy before.” Something dark flashed through his eyes and across his face. “I’d rather not be that again.”
“Is that what you think this is?”
“How can I know? The level of concern from Vance and Lenny, though? I have to assume there’s more going on than I know about, and I don’t want to get caught in something that’s going to get me hurt, any more than I want to hurt you. If that’s selfish, then….”
Dammit. It wasn’t selfish. It was practical. And Tanner wasn’t asking him for anything he couldn’t give. Not information, not promises. He wasn’t asking for anything at all. Kilmer couldn’t say how he felt about that. But he knew he didn’t want the feeling of lightness he’d experienced so briefly last night to be a one-time thing.
He settled on safe. “I hired you to help with this reno. Are you saying you don’t want the job?”
“No. Not saying that at all. I need the job. I have more bills than I can pay right now.”
“Well, then? Shouldn’t you come back inside and work?”
Tanner studied him a long time, and Kilmer knew what his answer was going to be before he spoke.
“Maybe not today.”
That was fair. It would have been awkward at the very least. Kilmer would have to explain Tanner to Vance, and that might be easier if Tanner wasn’t in the other room hearing every moment of their little tryst related to someone he admired professionally.
“But tomorrow?” God, how hopeful did that sound?
Tanner smiled and it wasn’t in the least bit patronizing. It was pretty hot in fact, and Kilmer found himself stepping closer.
“Tonight. Come listen to me play. Next weekend Rocky’s back. Decide if you want to play with us.”
And forget what Rocky and Jacko had been doing without him and what they all three had done together. Could he do that? He stared into Tanner’s eyes and swallowed a lump. Did he dare hang on to that one night? Or would it be better to think about last night and see where that might lead? Kilmer knew which feeling he wanted to live with.
He lifted a hand and curled it around Tanner’s neck, brushing at the strands of long hair, sweeping it back until Tanner closed the distance and kissed him.
Yes. That was the feeling right there.
“Tonight,” he promised as Tanner pulled back. “And I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” Tanner moved out of Kilmer’s personal space and glanced down at the dog. The animal whined gently at him, and he smiled and ruffled his ears. “I’ll see you tomorrow, you big goofball.” The dog thumped his tail.
“You’re not taking him?”
Tanner looked up, met Kilmer’s eye. “Look after him. He’ll ground you.”
A spiral of heat rose so swiftly through Kilmer it nearly made him dizzy. “Grounding?”
“Yes.” He didn’t say more, but the look in his eyes, the steadiness, that certainty that he knew what Kilmer needed—it shook Kilmer to the core and all he could do was nod.
“Good boy.” It was unclear if Tanner was addressing the dog licking his fingers, so Kilmer carefully remained very still. That he wished it was directed at him was not a piece of information Kilmer wanted Tanner to have. Not yet. Maybe not ever, if Tanner didn’t plan on sticking around.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Tanner said, defusing the tense quiet. “What is his name? Jacko never said.”
Kilmer grunted. “Never gave him one. Nothing ever fit. We called him dog when we had to call him anything, but he comes when you whistle. Well, when he isn’t plastered to Jacko.”
“Or you, it seems.”
A chuckle snuck out, and Kilmer rubbed at the dog’s head. “He wanted nothing to do with me this morning. He was all about you and the bed.”
Tanner lifted an eyebrow. “Seems to run in the family.”
“Yeah, fuck off.” Kilmer grinned and the lightness remained as Tanner sauntered off around the house and out of sight.
“Well,” Kilmer stroked the dog’s head a few times. “He does have that right, huh, dog? Him and the bed.” He shoved his hand into his pocket and felt the bell there. He came close to pulling it out and looking at it, but he didn’t. “Come on. Let’s see what damage those two idiots have done to my house.”
The dog walked with him to the back door, tail slapping against his leg, head seeking out his fingers.
17
“I AM not going to some dive bar—”
“They were never dive bars when we played them in Texas,” Kilmer pointed out, the reminder getting under Vance’s skin because he was right. Plus he’d cut off Vance’s tirade before he could get to the part about listening to some hick wannabe who might or might not be worth his time. Because that was what this was about, wasn’t it? Kilmer wanted Vance to come listen to his friend who wanted a break into the industry. He wanted Vance to give Tanner a leg up. It was always about that when someone invited him out to listen to some country act or other.
“Oh, they were dives,” Vance hedged, glancing at Kilmer over the detritus of their supper takeout remains. “We were just too young to care.” Hadn’t that been the truth. He studied his friend, wishing for an instant he could go back in time if only to see Kilmer smile across the stage at Vance when they had been the wannabes.
“And now you’re too good for them?” Kilmer asked, his glower getting darker than ever.
“I didn’t say that. Do not put words in my mouth, Kil.” But he couldn’t meet Kilmer’s eyes because he had been so dangerously close to thinking exactly that.
“I want to go,” Len piped up from where he was sprawled on the kitchen floor, playing with the dog like he was ten and the animal wasn’t big enough to squash him. He laughed as the mutt attempted to lick his face and instead let loose a series of indignant vocal machinations when Len denied him.
“Of course you do,” Vance muttered, glancing at his lover, then unleashing an indulgent smile. “Why does that not surprise me? You do know it will be wall-to-wall country. You might get some on you.” Not that he thought that would deter Len. He had blossomed from the reticent, volatile creature full of hurt that he had been when Vance met him, to a warm, caring individual who would of course want to give Kilmer’s new friend a chance.
Len sniggered. “Baby, I get country all over me every night.” He licked his lips in a lascivious gesture that actually got Vance’s cock twitching. “I liiike it,” he dragged the word out in a sexy growl as he sprang to his feet only to plop into Vance’s lap. He pecked Vance’s nose with a fleeting kiss. “And of course I do. Want to go, I mean.” He offered Vance a broad, sexy grin. “It’ll be fun. Imagine all the jaws dropping when people watch the great Vance Ashcroft swing his little redheaded twink across the dance floor. You know your fans are coming around.”
“And how do you know they won’t be watching Mr. Lenny Stevens cajole his taciturn lover into a slow dance?”
Len snorted. “You said it yourself. It’s a country bar. No one there will have a clue who I am without you.”
Vance groaned. “You see?” He shot Kilmer a look. “That’s another thing. Everyone’ll be gawkin’ at me, and no one will be listenin’ to your new boyfriend.”
“He ain’t—isn’t my boyfriend,” Kilmer objected.
“Fuck buddy?” Vance asked, lifting an eyebrow. “What do you call the help when you’re fuckin’ ’em?”
Kilmer shook his head, his face reflecting shock. “More to the point, what do I call my best friend when he’s actin’ like a douchebag?”
“Hey, now,” Len tried to intervene, but Kilmer was already on his feet, snatching up and crumpling the hamburger wrappers, his fury evident in every sharp movement.
“Forget it, Len,” Kilmer said, sullen and not looking at either of them. “You don’t have to come.”
“Hey, I want to.” Len turned to Vance and frowned. “We have to talk.”
“Len, don’t.” Kilmer tried to call him off the subject, but Vance already knew he wasn’t escaping this. When Len got it in his mind to “talk,” there was no appeasing him until he’d said his piece.
“Fine.” He let out a sigh. “So talk.”
Len rose, took his arm, and pulled until Vance relented and got to his feet.
“Oh, you two are not going off to discuss my love life,” Kilmer protested.
“No.” Len turned and patted Kilmer’s crossed arms. “We are going off to talk about Vance’s stupid jackass-ness.” He smiled. “So don’t worry.”
“Hey!” Vance stepped back, but that only gave Len the opportunity to keep his momentum going, turning him and pointing him toward the front door.
“Outside. Now.”
WITH A pang, Kilmer watched them go. Had he ever spoken to Jacko like that? Had there been banter? Had there been any semblance of him having his say in a normal conversation, disagreeing, speaking out if there was another soul within earshot?
“Jesus. What did I let him make me into?” He continued to crumple the lunch mess into tight balls to slam in the trash bin. “Fucking pathetic, stupid—” His breath caught and he had to stop, concentrate on breathing, on getting enough air into his lungs.
He pulled the bell and key out of his pocket and gazed at it. “What happened to us?”
What had happened to him? “I wasn’t always this weak.” He jingled the bell. The clapper’s noise was muffled now, since the bell was slightly squished from living in his pocket day in and day out.
He closed his eyes. Sighed. He felt like that bell. Slightly squashed out of shape, slightly muffled. Silenced because he had let himself be. Because he had longed for something from Jacko he’d never get, and allowed himself to let go of a little more of himself with every failed attempt at a meaningful connection. He’d hoped giving Jacko more of what he’d wanted would bring them closer.
It had only proved to Jacko that Kilmer didn’t have the strength he looked for in a sub. Someone who could give themselves completely to his care. Someone who trusted him fully to be what they needed.
Kilmer had been chasing a dream the entire time.
But Jacko had been kind in the beginning. Comforting and tender and patient. Something had changed in the past year, and it wasn’t Kilmer. Something in Jacko had turned. A switch that had nothing to do with Kilmer had been flipped. He’d withdrawn long before Len’s party. His affairs got more frequent and more clandestine, his temper hotter, his patience thinner.
“Why?”
Kilmer glanced over to where the dog sat in front of the door. He’d been looking out at first, but now he was watching Kilmer like he was waiting for some sign.
“And why you?” The dog had been a surprise, just there one day, not a word of explanation. “Why’d he bring home a dog, of all things?”
