Beyond the Footlights, page 3
Kilmer sighed. Maybe Len was right, but that was not Jacko’s way. He dictated. Jacko needed a boy who liked that about him, not one who wanted to second-guess him, who wanted to speak his mind—to defy the very thing Jacko based his dominance on every chance he got. There was a line between intelligently thinking through your Master’s decisions and flagrantly defying the ones you didn’t like. Kilmer had crossed that line some time ago and hadn’t really noticed until it was too late. Perhaps he had defied the spirit of their initial contract, but Jacko had steadfastly refused to renegotiate. Kilmer had an obligation to them both to be true to himself and keep trying.
“Len,” Vance said softly. “Jacko and Kilmer have a different kind of dynamic than we do.”
“Jacko does, maybe,” Len said. “Kil doesn’t, and you”—Len pointed a finger at Jacko—“need to get that before you lose him.”
To Kilmer’s surprise, Jacko nodded. “I do get it.”
“I’m not sure you do.” Vance sounded skeptical.
“He’s special,” Jacko said. “I know that. And I’ve not allowed him to express it.”
Fuck. He couldn’t hide here and listen to them discussing him like he was an interesting problem to solve. He was a human being and Jacko had fucked up. Kilmer had fucked up. The whole fucking thing was fucked the hell up.
“It’s all right,” he said, emerging from hiding.
“You sure?” Vance asked.
Kilmer nodded. “You mind?” He pointed back to the office and Vance dipped his chin in assent.
“You need anything, just call. We’ll be in the kitchen.”
Kilmer gave him the best big-boy smile he could muster and motioned Jacko past him into the room. “Thanks. I’ll be fine.”
How many times had he told Vance that? Every night for how long now, as he climbed into his car and headed for home, he’d said some version of it. How often had he lied to his best friend? He offered an apologetic shrug as Vance turned to give him one last out.
“I gotta do this.” That at least was true.
Inside the room, with the door closed, he turned to face Jacko, braced for his Dom’s disapproval.
“You scared the ever-loving crap out of me last night, boy,” Jacko rumbled. And that had to be true because it was the closest Kilmer had ever heard Jacko come to swearing.
“I’m sorry.”
“What happened? Everything was fine, and then you were losing it—”
“You really think everythin’ is fine?” Kilmer asked.
“It was when you were on your knees. You live for that—”
“For you, Si—Jacko.” He pulled in a deep breath at the stiffening of Jacko’s posture. He didn’t like when Kilmer used his name. It wasn’t supposed to be how they worked. But they were broken, and if Jacko didn’t realize how badly, this might be the only way to show him. As much as it killed to call him anything other than “Sir,” Kilmer could no longer give him that much.
“What?” Jacko stared at him, more intent than angry, and that was actually more unsettling than if he’d lost his temper.
“I lived for you to be that guy,” Kilmer said. “My… touchstone. My rock. Whatever. I did everything you asked when it was you and me. I let you do things no one else has ever been allowed to do because I trusted you to take care of me.”
“And I do.”
“No.” Kilmer’s voice shook. “Not lately. Lately you’ve taken care of your own hurt feelings or embarrassment or whatever the hell you want to call it when I do things like stand up for a friend, instead of fawning at your feet and agreeing with you when you’re wrong.”
“You know your place, boy,” Jacko said, taking a step toward him.
“I thought I did, yes.” Kilmer ached to move closer, to agree with Jacko, to give the older man what he wanted. Give in and have the comfort of his man in his bed again, strong hands to hold him down and give him a place when he was so far from the home he’d grown up in.
But he couldn’t. He could never give in to that temptation again, because Jacko had shown him last night something he’d tried hard for a very long time to ignore. Jacko was Kilmer’s Dom. Not his lover. Not his partner. Barely even his friend. And Kilmer couldn’t live with that kind of relationship any more than he could have lived with Vance’s version of dominance.
“I guess that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Jacko asked. “You always need to think these days. Analyze what we’re doing, instead of just doing it.”
Kilmer stared at him. “Yes.” It was a pretty simple statement in the end. Kilmer had a brain and he used it. Jacko wanted blind obedience.
“Why?” The plea in Jacko’s voice caught Kilmer off guard. “Why now? You never did before. You followed my lead. You let me make the decisions. You did as you were told.”
“Because….” Kilmer faltered. Had he been that pliable? He’d never been so with Vance. Well. Maybe that wasn’t true either.
When he’d been a young man living in Texas, being gay was a trial. He and Vance had bonded over it, and when Vance fled the state and eventually the country to follow his rising musical star, Kilmer followed.
Vance had used the copious amounts of money he made as a country singer to buy this spread in rural Ontario. He’d asked Kilmer to come run it for him when he was on the road, and Kilmer jumped at the chance.
He loved his tight-knit family back in Texas. He did not love how he had to hide so much of himself for them to love him back.
Besides, he and Vance had made a good team. Back home they had been compatible friends and lovers, off and on, for a long time. Then Vance left on his quest for fame. Kilmer saw the tabloid gossip as Vance tumbled downhill fast, drinking too much and screwing indiscriminately. He needed a home and someone to keep it for him. He needed stability. Kilmer could save the domineering singer from himself and make that home. So he packed up and moved to Ontario and into Vance’s life. They picked up their affair where it had dropped off, and Kilmer loved that somewhere along the way, Vance had learned to control his dominance. Kilmer was happy to let the control seep over into their sex life.
Vance wanted a partner in the business and a submissive lover in bed. He wanted a thinking, rational, capable man to run his land and his life when he was busy touring with his music. As long as Vance wasn’t on the scene, Kilmer had delivered, but he’d been unable to subordinate himself to Vance in bed and still maintain his autonomy out of it when Vance came home. It was his own weakness, and he knew it.
The moment Vance came home, Kilmer fell into a pattern of needy uselessness neither of them liked. Their friendship thankfully turned out to be stronger than their love affair, and they let the latter go to preserve the former. They were good friends now, and made a strong, successful business team.
Len and Vance worked because Len wasn’t running the ranch or any other part of Vance’s life. He was his submissive, his lover, and his friend, and he had a life of his own in the music world, was a rock star in his own right. They worked because the personal power dynamic didn’t touch their professional lives.
With his success running the ranch, Kilmer had been so sure he was strong enough to take another Dom and not fall into the same trap. He met Jacko at the bar in town when he’d been playing bass for a house band. They clicked. Kilmer felt sure here was a man strong enough to understand the side of Kilmer that could run a ranch. They had music in common, and Jacko could put Kilmer on his knees with a word and a hand placed just right. That didn’t mean Kilmer would fall under the spell like he had last time. He was still his own man. Jacko would not run his life. He’d been so confident.
Had he failed so utterly?
“Boy.”
Jacko’s stern voice shook him, and he shrugged both shoulders to throw off the yoke before it could settle.
“Not anymore,” he said softly.
“Don’t talk rubbish. Tell Vance you need the day off and come home. We need to work this out.” He laid a hand on Kilmer’s forearm and Kilmer so badly wanted to give in.
He took a step back. “There’s nothing left to work out.”
“Don’t be a fool.”
“I was a fool, Jacko. I was a fool to think I could ever have both.”
“Both? You mean Vance? He has a boy now. He doesn’t need you. You don’t need him.”
He didn’t even realize the problem. How had they been together all this time and Jacko couldn’t see the real issue? How had Kilmer not seen that he didn’t get it?
“It isn’t about needing him, or him needing me. He’s my friend. I am allowed to talk to him, to help him. He was in trouble and so was Len, and I could help. You shut me down.”
“What I wanted certainly did not stop you from speaking your mind and getting in the middle of their relationship.” He reached, and before Kilmer could step back, he hooked a finger through a belt loop. “That why you have his jeans on? Did they make it all better last night?”
Kilmer tore free of his Dom’s—Jacko’s—grip and stepped back, banging hard into the edge of the desk. “Yes,” he hissed. “Yes, asshole, they did.”
It wasn’t in him to lie to Jacko. But he was pissed enough he would let the man assume his own truth.
Jacko smirked. “I knew you’d run to them. So how did that go? You let Vance fuck you again? Or did he have his sleazy little twink crawl up your ass?”
“No, see, that’s you, Jacko. Grab some pathetic sub off the street and let him play to your ego so you don’t have to figure out why my having friends and a life feels so threatening.”
“Vance is no threat to me, boy.”
Kilmer shook his head. “Not your boy. Not anymore. Did you not get that what you did last night broke us?”
“What I did? You said yes to my face, but you lied in your heart. How am I supposed to trust you after that?”
“And what about me?” Kilmer deflected. “Every time I come home, is it going to be some other guy serving you like I should be? You going to keep denying me and treating me like your dog because I insist on respect? Because I want you to acknowledge I have a brain in my head and a life on the other side of your bedroom door?”
“You keep defying me and the other side of my bedroom door is where you can damn well stay, boy.”
Kilmer twisted his lips into a parody of a smile. “Fine.” He held out a hand. “Gimme my house keys.”
“Excuse me?”
“My house,” he spat. “My name on the deed. My house. I want you out. Find some other guy to look after you. I’m done.”
“That isn’t how it works.” Jacko stared at him like he’d grown another head.
“That’s just it, Jacko.” Kilmer deflated and pulled his empty outstretched hand back in. He tucked it into a pocket to keep from hugging himself tight and looking more of a fool than he felt. “The very fact you think I have no say in what we do, who we do. Or when we end. That just tells me you’ve lost track of who we even are. I’m not your plaything. You don’t get to decide when to toss me out or put me up on a shelf for later or use me at your whim. I’m a person. I never agreed to that.”
“You’re my submissive—”
“Not your slave.” He sank to lean on the desk. “You always tell Vance he was too easy on me. He wasn’t. In some ways he was tougher on me than you ever were, because he made me see myself. You might be great at training other Doms, but you are shit at teaching your own subs. I learned when I was with Vance that I can be weak. I can let a guy take over my whole life, but that isn’t good for me. It’s just easy. Eventually I will hate you for it. And you will hate me for not being the guy you actually want. So I’m ending it now before that happens.”
Jacko stared at him. Fury and hurt battled in his eyes, and it broke Kilmer to see the rage win out.
Jacko turned on his heel, stormed out of the room and out of the house. A moment later his truck engine roared to life, and Kilmer hurried to the door in time to see him peel out of the yard in a spray of gravel. The flying rocks were going to chip the paint on the vintage vehicle. Jacko loved that truck. He’d regret the damage later.
“Fuck.” Kilmer sagged, leaning on the edge of the open door.
Behind him the house was quiet, and he waited, counting down in his head. It was Len who touched his shoulder, prying him out of his slump.
“You did the right thing,” he said softly as he held out a steaming cup of coffee.
Kilmer accepted the drink but not the comfort.
“Vance went back up to change out of your jeans.” Len tugged at the same belt loop Jacko had, but infinitely more gentle. “You wanna go get dressed and we can eat?”
“Horses,” Kilmer said, desperate for a reason not to talk to anyone or think about this another instant.
“Patrick has the chores under control. We’ll take his evening shift later.” He picked up a pile of clothes from the desk and pushed them into Kilmer’s hand. “He brought these in from the barn for you. Now go. I’ll get the eggs started.”
“You’re very domestic.” Kilmer blew over the top of his coffee.
Len shrugged. “He won’t admit it. In fact he used to deny he even wanted it. I think maybe he thought he didn’t, but he likes having someone look after him. His housekeeper used to cook for him and clean and everything, but she has Patrick and Janet and the baby. She lets me do for him now, and he likes it.”
“You’re not a homemaker.”
“No.” Len gazed at Kilmer, blue eyes glowing with pride. “I’m a fucking rock star, baby.” He grinned. “Vance’s rock star. This keeps my feet on the ground. Now.” He turned Kilmer toward the stairs. “My bacon is going to burn, so go.”
Kilmer gave in and went back up. He knocked on Vance’s bedroom door, and when Vance called him in, he pushed it open.
“Sorry, dude,” he muttered, hiking up the too-big jeans. “Grabbed yours by mistake, I guess.”
Vance grinned. “Not the first time.”
Kilmer blushed and looked away.
“You okay?”
Kilmer shrugged. “Kicked him out.”
“You what?” Vance stopped halfway through the act of putting on his T-shirt. It stretched across his chest in a band of vibrant John-Deere-green. He stared.
“Kicked him out. And he’d better take that damn ugly dog with him.”
“That’s—” Vance seemed at a loss for words.
“My house, right?” Maybe later, when his heart hurt less, he’d thank Vance for that bit of advice. It had been Vance who insisted that as the submissive partner, he should retain the legal right to get anyone out of his home if he had to.
Kilmer shucked the jeans and turned so his naked ass was to his friend as he scooped up his underwear and tried to hop into them without falling over. “I bought it, and he and I, we’re done. I can’t take it anymore.”
“You’re welcome to stay here—”
“I have a place.”
“But—”
“Vance, don’t. I’m a grown man.”
“Yeah.”
Kilmer stood there, jeans in hand, staring at the faded denim. “I can do this.”
“I know.”
“I… might have let him think you guys… and me….”
“Doesn’t matter what he thinks, Kil. We don’t care.”
“If he makes a media fuss—”
“I’ll call Stan after breakfast and tell him what happened, okay?”
Kilmer whirled.
“Not how you two broke up.” Vance held one hand up, still gripping the tight stretch of fabric across his chest. “Just that you did and you came here to be with your friends, not to fuck around. If Jacko turns this into a media nightmare for us, Stan will make him regret it.” He shrugged. “Stan’s happiest when he has something to manage, and I’ve made things entirely too easy on him lately.”
Stanley Crane was Vance’s manager and other best friend, as well as the manager of the grunge band, Firefly, that Len was currently on hiatus from.
“I don’t want trouble for Jacko either. I’m mad, but he’s just who he is.”
“I ain’t gonna make trouble, Kil, but I won’t let him hurt my guys, understand? He won’t hurt you like this ever again, and he won’t drag Len’s name through another media circus. If he thinks he can, you know Stan and Alice will set him straight in a hurry.”
Kilmer smiled. Alice was married to Firefly’s drummer, was also their legal counsel, and had done a lot of legal work for Stan recently. She was a fierce, loyal dynamo that Kilmer wouldn’t even attempt to cross.
“You know those two will protect Len and me,” Vance said.
Kilmer nodded. “But don’t start anythin’, Van. Promise me.”
Vance sighed. “I hate that you actually love the asshole.” He popped his shirt over his head and grabbed Kilmer’s shoulder. “He doesn’t deserve it.” Before Kilmer drew a breath to protest, Vance crushed him against his chest. “And neither does his damn dog.”
That got an involuntary snicker out of Kilmer as he sank into the embrace.
“Maybe he’ll finally name the poor guy now he doesn’t have anything else to distract him.”
“Doubt it. I don’t even know why he brought the mutt home. He never acted like he wanted a dog, even after he got one. Always felt sorry for it.”
“Don’t worry about the dog, Kil.” Vance held him harder. “Right now, let’s just worry about you, yeah? I think I smell toaster waffles, so you know Len’s on your side.”
Kilmer chuckled wetly. He did love toaster waffles.
“We got your back, Kil.” Vance tightened his arms.
Kilmer wasn’t exactly a small man, but Vance was still bigger and taller, and his thick arms felt as good as they ever had. It wouldn’t hurt to borrow a tiny bit of his strength for a few minutes, would it?
Kilmer submerged himself in the hug and ground out a noise he hoped sounded annoyed and not broken. He didn’t hate that he had loved Jacko. He just wasn’t sure it was true anymore.
3
THOUGH HE had protested the need the first time Vance offered him a place to stay, Kilmer didn’t go back to his house for a week. He told himself he was giving Jacko the chance to collect his things and move out. Len had offered to supervise, but Kilmer wasn’t worried. Nothing in that house mattered enough he’d care if Jacko took it. He had thought of the place as Jacko’s for so long, he really didn’t see any of the stuff in it as his.
