Beyond the Footlights, page 29
Tanner nodded. “I can see that.”
“Then it was ’cause Len needed a partner, like. Someone to play with. Then you.”
“Then I what?”
Kilmer gazed at him. “I wanted to please you.”
Tanner’s grip loosened, like he might step away, but Kilmer held on to him hard. “No, don’t. Don’t pull away. Hear me out.”
“I don’t want you playing to please me, any more than you should have stopped to please Jacko. That isn’t what any of this is about.”
“I know. I git that.” The Texan was thickening his words, but Kilmer ignored that and rushed on. “It wasn’t so much I stopped to please him, as I stopped so he wouldn’t be annoyed. Everythin’ I did got on his last nerve some days. I should o’ known that weren’t—wasn’t—about me. But when you’re in it, that ain’t so easy to see.”
Tanner nodded. His fingers relaxed under Kilmer’s, and he moved so he was standing between Kilmer’s slightly spread legs. “I don’t want to be another Jacko in your life, Tex.”
“You ain’t. Aren’t. You’re you. You give me a little bit o’ myself back all the time. Just by not interferin’. By letting me get on and do what I gotta do. That was the best thing you could o’ done for me, even if I didn’t agree at the time. And I know.” He held up a hand when it looked like Tanner was going to say something.
“We had that knock-down, drag-out fight about you steppin’ back an’ I was all against it. But I see now why ya did that. It was the right thing to do. I needed that time to git my shit straightened out. You saw that. And then by insistin’ I play some. I might never have picked up the bass again if you hadn’t kept on me about it. I thank you for that. I don’t know how I let it all git to me so bad. The more I saw Jacko and me driftin’ apart, the harder I tried to hang on to the man, and he don’t want to be tied down. Never did. It ain’t him.” He was working up a steam. It was evident in his thickening vowels and heavy breaths. “I wanted to be home to him, only you can’t be home to a guy who don’t want to put down roots.
“I should o’ seen that. All the work on the bike, on the truck. Ways to git outta here when he was ready to run. Not namin’ the damn dog, or carin’ that the house was fallin’ down around us. I wanted home, and he was workin’ out ways not to make any of it stick.”
Tanner squeezed his fingers tight. “Easy there, Tex. Take a breath.”
“Yeah, I—” Kilmer blinked and focused on breathing for a few minutes, using some of the simple techniques Lenore had shown him. He’d gone short of air more than once in her office, and he was grateful now that she’d taken the time to teach him how to get that under control on his own.
Tanner’s hands around his were nice. Grounding. But that feeling of connection wasn’t the thing he needed to calm himself down. It was a background sensation. Nice to know it was there, but not the absolute necessity it had been just a few weeks ago.
As his breathing steadied and he met Tanner’s eyes, he also managed a small smile. “I’ve been thinkin’ about this place a lot.”
“Yeah?” Tanner’s gaze flicked about the garage. “Seems like you’ve been working on it a lot too.”
Kilmer nodded. “Had some help from Len. He’s been good about it. I think it helped him some to get away from the ranch. He’s goin’ a bit stir-crazy.” He took a deep breath and steeled himself. “So. I made some decisions about what I want.”
Tanner’s fingers tightened around Kilmer’s to the point of pain, but Kilmer met his gaze, keeping a steady connection. “Hear me out, yeah?”
“Of course.” Tanner’s struggle to relax was obvious in his expression, but Kilmer waited, knowing what he had to say was important. Knowing Tanner had to hear him, listen, and accept it, or they couldn’t be together. “Sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m not invested, Tex. I am. I got a horse in this race too, yeah?”
Kilmer let out a breath. “God, I hope so.”
“So. Tell me what you’ve been thinking.”
“First off, Vance, insufferable bastard, was right. I needed to work on this place. I needed to see it for what it is, not what it became, and to do that I had to strip it all down to the bare studs, so to speak.”
“Meaning?”
“Don’t worry. All your hard work is safe. I ain’t about to ruin what you’ve put into the place. I know I ain’t been here to help a whole lot in the last little while, but I been working on other things. Me things.”
“I get that. You hired me to do a job, and I’ve been doing it.”
“I hired you to git this place ready to rent out or sell. That ain’t what’s been happening.”
“I haven’t done anything you didn’t approve.”
“I know, and I got to thinking why that was.”
“Because it isn’t my place.”
“No, I mean I got to thinking, why have I approved you doin’ all this fancy work, all the personalizin’, if I wasn’t plannin’ on livin’ there?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Course you can’t. And until I got about half through cleanin’ out the garage, I couldn’t o’ answered the question either.”
“You found something in the garage?”
“I did.”
“What’s that?”
“My freedom.” Kilmer dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out the much-bent bell and key. “I realized. Jacko ain’t ever comin’ back.”
Tanner opened his mouth, but Kilmer held up a hand to keep him quiet.
“Don’t get me wrong. I always knew that. In my head. In my heart even. I knew he wasn’t comin’ back, an’ I knew I didn’t want him back. But this place. It was him an’ me here for the longest time. I saw him around every corner, expected to see him in the shadows and the dust motes, in the stuff he left, even in the absence of the stuff he took. Because he was in here.” He pointed to his head. “He was in here an’ I couldn’t git ’im out. It wasn’t until I had all his things out of here and had started scrubbin’ the grease and stains away and thinkin’ about what I wanted for the space that I realized all this, and figured out I could decide what I wanted. What I wanted. No one else had to figure into it. I didn’t have to ask anyone, didn’t have to take into consideration how anyone else might feel about whatever I decided. It was all down to me, and I wasn’t afraid to just make a decision.”
He pulled in a deep breath and grinned. “See I thought I would be. Afraid, I mean. I thought I’d be too worried about makin’ the wrong choice. Took a bit of time to git my head around the idea that it don’t matter what anyone else thinks about what I decide. It’s my choice. All I have to do is what pleases me.”
“And what pleased you was to make it into a workshop for me?” Tanner asked.
“I know you want to think this is about you,” Kilmer teased. “But it ain’t. It’s about what I want, an’ what I want is to give you somethin’ you need. Somethin’ that’ll make you happy an’ be useful. Best thing Vance ever gave me, in or out of a relationship, was that ranch. A place to make my livin’, to find out what I’m good at. What I love. To figure out I can be a rancher and I don’t need my folks to tell me I’m doin’ it right or wrong. He did the same for Len, makin’ over that sound studio for him. I saw shades of things he’d done to make it comfortable for me when he first built it, but I never set foot inside until this year. I go in there now, and it’s Len I see in every corner of the place. It’s fixed up to make him happy, and that’s as it should be. I plan to follow Van’s example in that.”
“By making me a workshop.”
Kilmer nodded. “And helpin’ Len git his music sorted out. I called his band manager, Stan, and I talked him into gittin’ the band down here for a visit over Thanksgivin’. Since Vance ain’t gonna be back, I thought it would be nice if Len had someone to celebrate with. The whole gang is comin’, just like at his birthday, and I hope you might attend. I know it’s last minute and all—”
“Why me? Len doesn’t know me.”
“Not for Len. I’m askin’ because I want to make this official. I want to make us official.” He suspended the key and bell between them, holding them between his thumb and finger. “I want you here for this. I want you to know I’m ready, and I—I just want you here.”
To Kilmer’s surprise, Tanner’s expression softened. He cupped Kilmer’s cheek, leaned in, and gave him a lingering but chaste kiss on his mouth. “Nothing would make me happier than to bear witness for you, Tex.”
“Thanks. I hope… well. I hope you don’t mind that I asked a few others. I need this to be a ceremony, pretty much in exactly the way it wasn’t when Jacko put it on me and didn’t see fit to take it off. That okay?”
“If it’s what you want and need, I’m all for it.”
Kilmer swallowed hard. He was nervous, and while he expected to be a bit on edge with being the center of attention over something as intimate as the removal of a Dom’s collar, this was Tanner.
“Thanks for that. It’s not a crowd or anything. Just you, Len, and Rocky.”
Tanner blinked at him. “Rocky?”
“Yeah.” Kilmer rubbed at the back of his neck and ducked his head. “I need him to know I’m takin’ this back, movin’ on from what happened. I hope he already has, but it’s important he knows I’m okay. Might be it’s only important to me, but I gotta know I did all I can to make it okay for him too.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Tex. If it matters that he’s here for it, then you invite him, and I hope he comes.”
“Is it selfish of me?”
“It’s not selfish to want something. Ask him to come. Tell him why. Let him make his own decision, and accept what he decides.”
Kilmer nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
Tanner took his hand with the key, closed his fingers around it, and kissed his knuckles. “This is good,” he said softly. “And I’m proud of you.”
The words made Kilmer’s head spin. He’d thought himself beyond needing to hear them. And maybe he was. It didn’t mean hearing them wasn’t still a rush.
AND SO, on Thanksgiving day Kilmer stood in his half-finished living room in front of three of the four people he wished to witness this moment. Vance obviously couldn’t be there, and Kilmer didn’t care if Jacko ever found out. The man had lost his right to have any say in how or when this happened.
Since they had moved the turkey-dinner festivities to Tanner’s house—Kilmer’s was just too unfinished for the party—Kilmer figured they’d have a few moments of privacy to do this. Still. He had never been so nervous in his life. They all knew why they were there and sat silent and waiting.
“This is crazy,” he muttered as he pulled the key from his pocket. His hand shook so badly he actually dropped it and had to stoop to pick it up. He shouldn’t be this nervous. He’d thought long and hard about this, even made the attempt more than once to take the damn thing off in the privacy of his own company. But no. These three people had borne witness to his lowest moments. They’d watched him hit bottom and helped him climb out of that hole over the summer. He wanted them all to know he could see the light now. He could get himself out of this quagmire.
“Ain’t crazy, dude,” Rocky said. “Not even a little bit.”
Kilmer stared at him and, for one breathtaking moment, utterly regretted inviting him. For another heartbeat, he couldn’t breathe or think. His fingers were numb, and there was no hope he’d find the tiny lock or fit the tiny key into it.
This had been a mistake.
“Here.” Rocky rose from the couch where he’d been sitting next to Len and took a step toward him.
Kilmer wanted to back away, but his feet were rooted to the floor.
Rocky held out his hand, palm up. “Ever since that night, you’ve been better to me than you had to be. I know I was the other guy. I’m not an idiot. I went along with Jacko for a long time because I was curious and stupid and full of myself. You should hate me, and I don’t know many guys who wouldn’t.” He ducked his head and his outstretched arm flagged slightly. “Hated myself for a little while there,” he said more quietly.
Then he lifted his head and looked Kilmer squarely in the eye. “But you’ve been decent to me. More than. You’ve helped me with my music, with Elliot—” He grinned, wide and shy at the same time. “—just by not judging, ya know? So I figure I owe you a solid.” He jiggled his hand. “Let me help, dude.”
Let him help. The thought had never occurred to Kilmer. He’d asked Vance, who’d said no, and Tanner, who had also—and rightly—refused to do this for him. He would never ask Len. Knowing his past made that a favor he would never ask of the other submissive. It had not once occurred to him to ask Rocky.
“I—”
He glanced to Len, who offered a small shrug and a smile. “Why not?”
“Dude.” Rocky almost sounded exasperated. “I’m not real experienced in this sort of thing. I don’t pretend to be. But I know the guy who put that on you, and all the shit that goes with it. I know it’s supposed to be an honor and all that.”
“It is an honor to wear—”
“It’s supposed to be an honor for him that you would wear it. So it’s good you know he doesn’t deserve to have it back. That it’s just trash now. So I get why your friend is here, and I get why your boyfriend is here. Now I know why I’m here. This is how I right what I did wrong to you. Gimme the key.”
“It isn’t that simple,” Kilmer said. His voice came out so small he barely recognized it.
“For once, it actually is way more simple than you’re making it.” He moved in close and gently pried the key out of Kilmer’s fingers. He cupped Kilmer’s cheek to turn his head to one side and fitted the key into the lock. With a tiny metallic click and a rattle and slither of warm chain, the collar fell away into Rocky’s hand.
“You see?” Rocky asked softly. “That simple.” He turned and tossed the chain, lock, and key into one of the waste buckets lined up along the wall, then faced Kilmer again. “I didn’t really know you as his. I only know you as the guy who gave me a chance when everything about our situation said you shouldn’t. So that collar doesn’t mean a whole lot more to me than a symbol of all the things you set aside when you realized you’re too good to wear it.”
Kilmer’s throat closed, making it impossible for him to speak, but he nodded, and then Rocky was drawing him into a bear hug that squeezed the breath out of him.
When Rocky let him go and stepped back, he was grinning. “Now. I was promised turkey dinner.”
“Right.” Tanner heaved to his feet and took a step toward Kilmer. “You ready?”
Kilmer held out a tentative hand, which Tanner rushed to grip. A wave of relief washed over Kilmer as the warmth of work-hardened, weathered skin contacted his. He turned in to press his forehead to Tanner’s collarbone.
“That was weird,” Kilmer whispered.
“You wanted him here.”
Kilmer glanced over his shoulder, looking for Rocky, but he had already moved to the door with Len to find his shoes and was petting the dog. “Yeah, but I didn’t expect—”
“He didn’t expect you to ever forgive him. So accept that you did a good thing, and this was his way of thanking you. The important thing is that you’re free of it.”
Kilmer nodded. “Okay. We should go before the rock stars trash your place.” Tanner took a step back, looking slightly alarmed, and Kilmer laughed. “I’m kidding. They are mostly pretty well-behaved.” He pulled Tanner toward the door.
Spirits lifted as they walked, chatted, and laughed. Wind blustered in fast gasps of chill air between bright flashes of sunshine and dim moments of cloud cover: a typical fall day for rural Ontario. Texas rarely saw this kind of weather and Kilmer had come to adore it.
His steps lightened, quickened as they neared Tanner’s, where preparations had already begun for the traditional turkey, stuffing, and mashed potato dinner Tanner, Rocky, and Len craved. In a few weeks, when Vance was back, they’d celebrate again, with the more Texan fare Maggie liked to make for her American transplants.
To one side of him, Tanner strode, a happy smile on his face, though he spoke little. On his other side, Len bounced and chattered to Rocky, who did a lot of nodding and agreeing. It was a good day, Kilmer decided as they finally came in sight of Tanner’s place.
The porch was occupied by a large sprawling man, and next to Kilmer, Len let out an unfiltered squeal.
“Is that…?” Len stopped, stared, then broke into a run. “Clive!”
“CLIVE!” LEN raced, heart pounding, to reach the porch and Firefly’s drummer, who stood and braced like he knew what was coming. Len took the steps two at a time, launched himself, and wrapped arms and legs around the big man. “I can’t even believe you’re here!”
Clive grunted and enveloped Len in a bear hug. “Good to see you too, Runt.”
Len laughed and hung on tighter.
“Get off my man, you monkey, and give me a hug too.” Clive’s wife, Alice, patted Len’s shoulder, and her melodic voice wove through the sound of blood pounding in Len’s ears. He dropped to the ground and turned to her as she eased the screen door shut behind her.
“Alice.” Len hugged her hard.
She huffed, smacked his cheek with a wet kiss, and held on. “It’s good to see you, Len.”
“No one told me you guys were coming. Where’s your munchkin? Tell me you brought her, or else how is Uncle Lenny supposed to spoil her rotten?”
“No one told you because if we had, it wouldn’t be a very good surprise, now would it?” Kilmer said as he mounted the steps.
“Kil, you planned this?” Len whirled on him. “You could have warned a guy!” Len felt the prickle behind his eyes, but the threatening tears were happy ones.
“What, and miss the monkey impression?” Kilmer laughed. “Not on your life.”
Len smacked him. “Jerk.”
Kilmer only grinned wider. “Let’s go inside and find beers, yeah?” He offered his hand to Clive, who shook it, and kissed Alice’s cheek. “Good trip down?”
