We Claim Them
2019 was a year of change and revelation. The universe was making it known to Jamie and Dean that with every great leap forward, there would be an attempt by the past to pull them back.
By the turn of the new year, Jamie had become the spokesperson and ambassador for the homeless LGBT charity, Rainbow Roads. They aimed to support youths and young adults who had arrived at impossibly desperate circumstances through dangerous choices or even shunned by families because of who they were. London was brutal for most. But impossible for youngsters with nowhere to turn.
Jamie’s online presence through his social media activity and ‘It Boy’ notoriety among fashion circles meant he was a walking billboard of sorts. This time, there would be no free clothes, no commission, just good deeds being done. It was the quickest deal he’d ever negotiated to front.
Dean encouraged the appointment by the charity. He was mesmerised by Jamie’s capacity to take on the role along with an ever-expanding freelance marketing client book, fashion commitments and social media work. He would bite his lip subtly as Jamie would reel off his endless schedule of appearances, meetings, calls, and shoots. He would never outright demand downtime of him, or question his ability to handle everything he was taking on, but he would quietly observe. Wait at home for when he’d return and flop onto him for one of those necessary Big Pillow embraces at the end of the day.
Jamie’s world was becoming increasingly more and more busy but in Dean, he’d found the space and the permission to be quiet. Dean was most in love with Jamie when it was the two of them. No distractions. Eye to eye. Hand to hand. Lip to lip. Chest to chest. His inhale to Jamie’s exhale. One following the other. Completely compatible despite differences.
“You just tell me when you need me for any of it. I’m so proud of you but you know me, I’m always going to be a bubbling pot of nerves, I just want you to be happy. Promise me you’ll be kind and good to yourself. That’s all I ask.” Dean would plead in his ear in those quiet moments.
“I promise. I can always come back to my castle when it gets too rough out there.” Jamie nuzzled his chest in response, one night following his appointment.
The charity had tasked Jamie with securing a permanent home for their service users. He tracked down the perfect location. A disused artist’s studio in a warehouse in the East End. Jamie’s imagination ran wild with possibilities for such a space. The letting agent remarked on its recent history. “An artist apparently. Used the space to create. Then just shut up shop a couple of months ago. Sad I suppose. The arts are volatile industries, maybe it wasn’t sustainable.”
Ever the empath, Jamie responded. “That’s sad. I hope they’re still creating art somewhere in some way.”
The truth was, that Drew’s world was closing in around him. Christian, insidious in his efforts, gradually turned Drew completely dependent on him in every aspect of his life. No need for a studio space when he would paint to order for Christian’s inner circle. Christian knew it was glaringly obvious that Drew could have had anyone and probably would have been happiest with the most simple of partners. So he closed Drew’s world off. Inch by inch. When Drew would just about settle, Christian would pull the rug from under him just to remind him how he could take it all away when he wanted. Giving him everything to know he could have nothing. Christian was a collector of beautiful things. Drew was no different. Another beautiful thing. Except, he wasn’t a thing, he was human. Humans have minds. Minds that have thoughts and the ability to choose. Christian knew best to contain that mind. Reduce the need for thought. No further need to choose. And if ever Drew decided he wanted out, Christian would revoke everything and leave him at the absolute bottom again. Drew resolved to exist in the relationship for survival if little else. Christian was extinguishing him. Quickly becoming just another beautiful thing to keep.
Jamie assured the charity board that the space would offer among other things: a health drop-in clinic, kitchen, shelter, washing facilities, learning space, and event space. There was a sharp intake of breath following his ambitious pitch at the beginning of the year. The board were excited but with a hopefully undetectable trace of trepidation. “If anyone can pull this off, we think it’ll probably be you. But remember, this is charity, don’t let professional and family commitments fall. They have to come first.” One-of-a-kind board members reminded Jamie. He didn’t have to think twice.
“I appreciate the concern. But when you have a robust career, or careers in my case, and a wonderfully supportive husband, it makes the decision to take this on for you, even easier. Most people are searching for a career or a great love. I have both. Locked down. Years ago. Time to give back. I know it’ll be tough, and busy, but I’m tough and busy. Don’t let my blonde hair fool you.” He charmed with his winning smile. The board laughed warmly and approved his plans.
Launch night would fall on the evening after the London Marathon. Running the date by Dean, Jamie was met with raised eyebrows. “Are you serious? You’re running a marathon to raise money for the charity, then launching its new home that evening? Are you a sadist?” Dean teased but wanted to fully understand how much Jamie was taking on and if he realised it himself.
“I’ll be fine.” His contemplative smile made Dean worry. He knew he would be but for anyone else you did these two things separately. Not whip off your trainers and running gear and slip straight into couture and platform boots for a charity launch while your body was still aching. You’d take a few days or months apart. Not Trouble. Not his style.
27th April 2019
The night before arrived and conversations were being had all over London.
“It’s been great catching up this week. Not the most intelligent idea to bring Dean in on you being back. But you were good for him. It’s good to know you’re still about if…” Lee trailed off. He didn’t want to finish the sentence. He knew it was an awful thing to say out loud. He loved Jamie. He stopped just shy of full betrayal.
“If what? Lee?” Rupert asked excitedly. Since news had gone transatlantic of Jamie and Dean’s marriage, when it hit Rupert in New York he was still not entirely done with the idea of his relationship with Dean. The marriage should have given cause to move on and forget but, it was like an explosion going off in his face and his reaction was to simply bat the aftershock away like an irritating gnat in the summer, rather than to run and take cover.
“I don’t know. They’re great but it’s at a mile-a-minute pace. I don’t think it’s who Dean is. He’s caught up in the looks, the constant almost childish fun that Jamie creates. It’s a holiday romance that just kept going.”
“Well, you know we ended well. Technically there wasn’t a breakup. Just a pause while we figured out careers. I’m going to that charity launch of Jamie’s. My company wants to look at more well-meaning ties to London, so diverse charities are always a good start. We’re publishers so I’m not sure how they connect but apparently, I should check it out. What the hell, it’s all expensed so who cares? ”
“That’s the other thing. The constant do goodness of him all the time. What’s being proved and to who? No one does this just for the plain simple reason of doing good. Maybe I’m cynical.”
“No Lee, you’re normal.” Rupert giggled. “Anyway, hitting the sack, big day tomorrow. Maybe I’ll catch him at some point somewhere.”
They ended the call. Lee felt a knot of guilt. He was plucking apart his brother-in-law for no reason other than not fitting his expectations. Again. Giving Rupert some kind of perverse permission to stroke sleeping bears. Bears Rupert now thought may wake and remember everything from over a decade ago and give marriage a pause for thought.
That same evening, in Notting Hill, a seasoned marathon runner was getting last-minute nerves. “I have to come in under three hours. I have to.” Dean was surveying his body in the mirror in the dressing area. In just his old gym shorts. Jamie had a smitten smile and walked to him, running his palms over his back.
“Be kind to him please.”
“Huh?”
“I’m talking to that arsehole voice in you that makes you like this before something big. I’m asking him to be kind to my husband. Dean, you’re an athlete. A strong and steady athlete. You’re a warship. Nothing can be won without the warships. Forget all the little silly tug boats bobbing about beside you. If you do come in, then that’s amazing, if not, you still ran almost thirty miles more than most.”
Dean grinned and turned. He’d put Jamie on an intimacy ban for the week in the run-up. He read that it increased the testosterone and angst, meaning he might have some emergency gas in the tank when he needed it. Twenty-four hours and his torture was over. He grabbed Jamie’s behind firmly in his palm. Fresh out of the shower, in nothing, Jamie’s body clapped against Dean’s. He hardened immediately. “You know what? I am. Do you know what warships have? A fucking huge gun. Don’t you agree?” He pulled himself free from his shorts, grinning. Palming his cock. Proud.
“Baby, one more night. Of course, I agree. That weapon could end or cause World War Three.” Jamie bit his ear lobe as he felt Dean’s head slick against his stomach.
“You know what else I read?”
“Tell me.” Jamie was patting Dean’s neck with his lips.
“If I’m brought so close and hold it, more frustration, more speed?” Dean suggested. Finally grabbing his cock and holding it out, preying Jamie would prolong the tease by indulging him for a moment.
“You can’t shoot anywhere,” Jamie ordered but his grin as he lowered said otherwise. Shoot all over me. I’ve missed you.
“Shut up. Just suck my cock. Fuck.” It had been a week. The warm wetness of Jamie’s mouth and then his throat taking him in made him gasp. Desperation took over. Jamie’s blue eyes watering already, pleading for Dean to use his mouth. Dean agreed silently. Taking his palm over Jamie’s damp hair and pulling back and forth. He hadn’t heard that struggle in a week. He went faster. “Baby, keep going. Take it all. Fuck. I love you.” He grabbed the wardrobe door for balance and closed his eyes. Images of Jamie riding him flashed in front of him like a cruel trailer. The wave was building, that exquisite plunge in the stomach like that felt on a roller coaster before the big dip, then the white-hot pain, then the release. He battled.
Fuck it. I need to blow. I need to fill his mouth. He’s missed this as much as I have.
Then it stopped. All that was left was the white-hot pain, receding into a dull ache.
He gasped. Eyes shot open.
Jamie retreated with a pop of his mouth and got up. “One more night baby. One more night.” He tapped Dean’s cheek, Dean inhaled, smelling himself on Jamie’s breath. Jamie turned and walked into the bedroom. Dean stared at the perfect behind. Fuller in the past few years. More round. Cheeks almost kissed each other as he moved. Stepping up his weights regimen had paid off ever since the first afternoon he let Jamie make love to him. Dean almost shot just looking.
Jamie heard a roar and a punch against a wooden door.
“Fuck you!” Dean shouted breathlessly. “Fuck!” A hungry, caged animal pulled himself back from the brink.
Jamie clasped his hand to his mouth and laughed hysterically as quietly as he could. He couldn’t wait for the next evening. After the marathon, after the launch party. Home with Big Boy. Letting him go all the way.
28th April 2019
“Wait is over. I can’t wait to be reunited tonight, baby.” Jamie pulled at Dean’s hardness under the duvet. Wrapping his leg around him and willing him to break his fast.
Dean rolled on top of him. “I fucking love you. Good luck with everything today. I’ll see you at the launch?” Dean shoved himself hard against Jamie’s stomach. Jamie gasped.
“Yeah, you will. Bringing Harry?”
“Yeah. Lee’s running too so may catch them both afterwards if you’re ok with that?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m running with my charity, then spending the afternoon surrounded by artists, dancers, and drag queens before the evening. I’ll be in heaven. When you come home to change, put on a black shirt for me. Tonight, I’m yours.”
“Oh, babe.” Dean’s lips covered Jamie’s mouth. Jamie kept his eyes open, he loved to watch Dean’s eyelids dance as he kissed him. The little ripple of flesh between his eyebrows. The deeper, the more he wanted the kiss to turn into something else. That morning, the ripple was the deepest he’d ever seen. He giggled breaking off the kiss.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I know what you want stud. Store it up. Use it. Come back to me tonight and show me how much you’ve missed me. Remember, under three, amazing, if not. Do not rip yourself apart.” With that, he slapped Dean’s behind. Dean gave one final shove, growled and hit the shower before heading out to the starting grid.
Thousands would run. It was pointless to commit to seeing each other. It would make the wait even more painful, painful until the moment the drought would lift and the damn broke. It would break for them both that night. Jamie was ready for the flood.
Jamie ran with a group of charity representatives. They all opted to make as much of a mark as possible. Silver glittered shorts, pink running vests and neon head and wrist bands. Jamie and Jerry also agreed to carry a boombox, belting out the most iconic of queer anthems as they moved through the city.
Jerry was Jerry Fowler, a seasoned drag queen and a dear friend of Jamie’s ever since he set foot in London. Always his cheerleader in his darkest and most lonely moments. Although an iconic drag queen, Miss Divine, by night, Jerry was in his late forties and a true athlete, getting sober at the turn of the millennium. Pouring all his energy that had gone into the search for hedonism into fitness. Six feet, not an inch of fat on his body and hair cropped short to make allowances for fantastically complicated wigs. He was acerbic but kind. Dark brown eyes that knew you were good people or bad people before you opened your mouth.
Dean was silent. Black running singlet. Every muscle defined. Pumped. Charged. No music. No frenzy. Just the thought of a finish line and an Olympic fuck fest to look forward to.
10:10 AM. They were off.
Dean was approaching Tower Bridge and on course to come in under three hours. As he’d hit a steady pace, muscles, breath and mind all finally working with each other rather than fighting for dominance over one another, a voice he hadn’t heard for years broke his focus.
“I know those calves anywhere.” Rupert came up alongside him. Dean snapped his head quickly but went straight back to the task ahead.
“Shit! Rup! You’re back!” He smiled quickly, he wanted to give more but had to focus. He licked his lip from sweat, he hoped Rupert wouldn’t have taken the action as an attempt to flag his interest.
“I am. Only to see family. Run this of course and check out your husband’s charity.”
“Oh wow. Yeah. Jamie. We’ll see you there. Have a good run!” Dean sidestepped a little to move away and focus. He didn’t want to not speak, he just needed no distractions.
“Yeah, you will stud!” Rupert kept Dean in his eye line through to The Mall and the finish line. He would talk to him again. Lee’s conversation made him sure he needed to at least be near his old flame once again. He still loved him.
Dean finished first. Composing himself with desperate swigs of water, lashing against his chin and dropping to his chest.
Rupert came to a stop and clocked him. The water. The trickle down the neck to the chest. The heave of his lungs as he gulped in air. His legs, full of used muscle. Rupert groaned.
“We meet again. Good time?” Rupert thought nothing of it and went in for a hug about the neck. Sure to brush Dean’s stubble with his cheek. The sting sent his mind back years. Their sex was hard and often involved more than just the two of them. The excitement was coming back. He sensed Dean’s surprise but definite comfort being back in his presence. A palm spread over his lower back.
“Hey! Yeah, two, fifty-three. So happy. Can’t believe you’re here! It’s been years. How was your run? Time what you wanted?”
Rupert paused. The question was about the marathon but he could have easily answered it about them. “It was. It absolutely was.” His eyes were heavy on Dean. Everything about him screamed of the passion they shared. Dean never knew how he looked to everyone around him. Rupert’s eyes took in his body. Broad chest. The tease of hair above the singlet. Solid stomach, muscles almost laminated under his running suit. He stalled at his crotch, knowing what lay beneath. The legs, the legs that had dictated the pace of every bedroom moment they’d had.
Jamie and Jerry were out in front of everyone else and crashed through the finish line. “Fuck that boombox. Jesus.” Jerry collapsed on the floor catching his breath. Jamie laughed as he doubled over. Then he saw them.
He was taller than Dean. Only by an inch or so. But it still made Jamie feel even smaller. His hair was sophisticated. Cropped tight around his ears and neck. Longer through the head, perfect for those moments when running a hand through it was required in a given interaction for emphasis. Exacerbation. Laughter. Or flirt. Is that what was happening now? A flirt? The natural golden highlights glinted in the spring sun on The Mall. Probably from summers in southern Europe and winters in Switzerland, Jamie’s mind raced. His arms were long and slim. His legs the same. A perfect tan. He was perfect. Any ex-boyfriend still alive was always perfect. He was familiar with Dean, oblivious or ignorant to the band on his wedding finger. Certain touches are off-limits when you’re married you arrogant fucking prick. A hand was on Dean’s neck. Rubbing that beautiful ridge Jamie would bite as Dean made him reach his edge each time. Does he know that? Does he know I’m looking? Did they used to do that?
Jamie knew of him. They’d tentatively discussed exes when they’d first met years ago. Dean explained that they had met in Oxford through Lee after university one summer at home. It was perfect. A wealthy family’s Prince meets another wealthy family’s Prince. Which wing of which family estate did you fuck in first Dean? Did he give you better than I do? Do you miss him? Can you sense I’m looking at you? They ended because of career choices. It was a decision made not forced. Better to break up in a mess and never see each other again, than to leave the prospect of reconciliation open to reunite in front of the most famous balcony in the world. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.
“Perfect,” Jamie whispered and bit his lip to stop the fizz of anger in his face. He shoved his wedding and engagement rings up into his finger hard with his thumb. The tip went numb as he strangled. Hurting himself was easier than causing a scene.
“JJ baby! We did it!” Jerry clasped his hands over Jamie’s shoulders. Jamie turned and clawed at Jerry for a hug. More than was asked for.
“I need to go. I’ll see you later at the venue. Don’t worry. I’m just being silly but I have to leave.” Jamie spoke with strain trying not to cry or scream. He ran for the tube. The only person within a mile who decided that running was necessary again. He looked back one last time and saw two familiar faces. Harry and Lee. Tears then fell. Why stop them? No one was looking at him. Lee grabbed Rupert in for a huge hug, feet leaving the floor type of hug. Harry high-fived.
On the tube, Jamie continued to push his rings into his ring finger. The numbness, now an ache. Why wasn’t he afforded that welcome by Dean’s people? He got put downs. Slap downs. Hands crashing against tables to shut him up. There he was, sweaty in cheap nylon scratching his thighs, NHS parents and ADHD. Back there, on Royal turf, were privately educated stallions with only letters after names, not diagnoses. Clear and confident brains not chaotic and busy ones. They’re from a world Jamie never really understood. You could look like them, dress, drink and eat like them, but you could never be them.
Back on the Mall Jerry scanned his surroundings for what might have spooked Jamie. Then his eyes landed on Dean. Still in some enthusiastic conversation with a tall, slender man. Dean wasn’t doing anything wrong. But to Jamie, it was as if he was taking a wrecking ball to his heart with every moment he didn’t look back at him. Jerry waved but subtly mouthed under his breath, “fuck’s sake Dean.” Jerry didn’t know the context but knew how delicate Jamie could be and this scene must have been what made him run and hide in the tunnels of London.
Jamie got home and showered. He looked at the look a new designer had sent him for the occasion, on the bed. He’d asked for “big, this is a celebration of our community, everything we’ve been through, we still dance through it all, still fighting for our brothers and sisters who are left in the cold.” He felt small and insignificant there, in the bedroom. A joke. He had people counting on him but putting on something so ostentatious when he felt this way was jarring. He reasoned that he couldn’t be selfish and let them down, so he pushed through but with every pull of a trouser leg and adjustment of a shoulder, he felt like he didn’t belong again. Not the world he was going into that evening, but further and further from the world he tried to live in with Dean.
The launch night was ballroom-themed. The bigger, the brighter, the better. Jamie looked one final time in the mirror after letting his blue metallic nail polish dry, his black smoke eye to cure and huffed. Then the misery melted. He shifted his hands to his hips and stood proud. A silver tank with matching flared trousers. Black platform-heeled boots and an electric blue bolero of feathers. His hair was wild, his blonde waves like an open lion’s mouth. Fighting. He was in a fighting mood. He never really wasn’t. This was who he was. His style was his armour and his people, his army. So, he wasn’t private school collars and cuffs. He was colourful, kind and full of love. He just hoped Dean still saw him.
He posted to his Instagram to showcase the designer’s work and signal that the night had begun.
THANK YOU TO @NOAHJOSHUA FOR MY LOOK. I’LL SHINE BRIGHT TONIGHT AS WILL THE TEAM AND THOSE IN NEED OF RAINBOW ROADS.
Love Always, JAA X
He grabbed a cab over to the venue.
Launch Event - East End
“Good evening everyone. I’m hugely proud of what the team and I have achieved for this night to happen.” Jamie began his welcome speech up on stage.
“Fuck, Dean look at him. He’s so fucking cool.” Harry leant on Dean’s arm. Drinks were taking hold more easily after the marathon.
“He is. That’s my boy. I haven’t had a chance to see him yet. Breaking my fast tonight.” Dean and Harry laughed into each other’s shoulders.
“Hello, you two. God, bit much all this don’t you think? What’s wrong with black tie?” Rupert appeared at their side.
“Not the point of the night. None of this is or ever will be about black tie.” Harry defended. Baby Boy was working, no one was going to derail this for him. Dean smiled and swirled his beer. Harry was a little confused by the lack of support Dean offered his statement. “Anyway, I’m off for another.” He left.
“So, this is what your guy does?” There was a hint of disdain in his voice.
“Uh, yeah. One part of him. He’s also a marketing genius and a fashion star. He’s brilliant.”
“All a bit silly though.”
“Be nice Rup. I need to find him. Have a great night. Dig deep, donate. I know those pockets.”
Rupert leaned in. “I miss you. I miss us. Everything.”
Dean frowned and laughed. Rupert moved away. “What the fuck?” Dean mumbled under his breath.
Jamie’s eyes found Dean in the crowd. All eyes were on him but his were on his husband and that fucking arrogant prick was back again. Crawling over him like weeds. Jamie faltered slightly in his speech but brought it back.
“So sorry everyone. The magnitude of what we’re about to achieve here is a little overwhelming. I want to personally thank the team, Rainbow Roads board and the wider community for their support in getting us here. Let’s make the future a brighter and safer place for those in need. Dance, laugh, love. Donate! Enjoy.” Jamie left the stage and disappeared behind the curtain. Jerry had morphed into Miss Divine. A beautiful archive Ossie Clarke gown in anthracite, a platinum wig of the highest waves. Make-up to put fashion editorials to shame. “Fucking hold me.”
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I try to do good and the universe just snaps back my happiness. It’s exhausting. I need to take a minute. You’ll be amazing tonight. Thank you. I love you Miss D.” Jamie gave Jerry a peck on the cheek and went into the men’s room.
Moments later he came out of the cubicle and leaned against the vanity. A rough and in much need of replacing a mix of broken white tiles and smeared mirror. The renovation would come. A direct opposite to the custom outfit he was wearing and the perfect people who filed in and out.
“Great work Jamie. Awesome!” A group shouted.
“Hey, thanks!” He smiled until they left then padded a tear as he was alone but not for long.
“Jamie?”
“Uh, yes? Sorry. The night has overwhelmed me slightly…” Jamie lied and then saw him in the mirror. Correction. These tears are fucking because of you.
“Rupert Carmichael.” Rupert extended one of those elegant arms to him. Now swathed in white cotton. Jamie didn’t let on he knew who his opponent was.
“Hello, lovely to meet you. Thank you for coming and any donations are hugely appreciated.”
Rupert moved in and pulled at a feather on his bolero. “No problem. This is quite the get-up.” The tone was more disdain masquerading poorly as appreciation.
“Thanks. A new designer let me wear it this evening. Always looking to help emerging designers get exposure.”
Rupert let the words fly over his head. He couldn’t care less. He thought he looked ridiculous. He smirked. “I must say congratulations on taming him.”
“Excuse me?” The gloves were off. Jamie was impressed with the speed.
“Archer.” Don’t say his fucking name like that. I’ve called him that for nearly ten fucking years, arsehole.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know you. What are you talking about?”
“Like hell, you don’t know me. It’s me. Rupert. It was me before you. What’s your secret to making him a monogamous man? Taking him from international playboy? Taking him from all of us to enjoy.” Rupert was catty in his delivery. He knew what he was saying would debase Jamie’s idea of who Dean was.
“I’m not going to discuss my husband with someone I’ve just met a few seconds ago.”
“Understood. You’re hot, don’t get me wrong but how did you feel about all the models, dancers and porn stars he’s bedded? You name ‘um, good chance Dean has been there. His dick and bedroom athletics are legendary.” Rupert moved to lean against the wall and played a finger over the tiles. Deliberately trying to make what he was saying seem inferior, common knowledge, knowing full well it was tangling Jamie in a web of shock and hurt.
“I can’t comment on who he was before he met me and I won’t discuss our relationship, our marriage, with a stranger.”
“I just got involved, it was easier that way. At least I still got some attention from him. I think six was our record in a bed at the same time. He was the leader.” Rupert persisted.
Jamie swallowed, he thought he might vomit or punch Rupert square in the face. “I’m not listening to this. You’ve come here with some agenda. I don’t know why or what he’s done to you to make you feel like you need to speak to me like this. It sounds like you’re stuck in the past. We’ve been married for almost four years. We’re happy, talking about children and moving outside the city. Please just leave me and the idea of you and Dean alone.”
“Lee mentioned that. Mentioned you were looking at that white picket life. Really? Never saw that in him before. Lee always said you were different.”
Jamie had heard enough. In that moment he vowed to scrub Lee from his life. He was done. Lee had hung himself. Jamie tried not to give him so much rope but he continued to yank it over the years. Jamie was tired of pulling back. Let him fucking swing. He didn’t let his face betray his thoughts in Rupert’s presence, though. He walked up to him and swallowed down the words he should have launched. He grabbed Rupert by the hands. “You loved him. I get that. But this is now. You need to stop embarrassing yourself by talking about the past. Dean is kind, if he’s paid you attention tonight it’s because he’s fond of what memories you had together. But that’s all it is. Kindness and memories. What we have now is love. Marriage. Shared experience of when we’ve been the lowest and most vulnerable wi the only the two of us there to pick up the pieces. Find it Rupert, love, you’ll be less bitter when you do. Thank you for your donation again. Goodbye.” Jamie dropped his hands and held the lump in his throat as he walked away. He felt hot, like a building about to explode. He found a staircase and ran up to a balcony where he could cry in peace and make sense of the information Rupert had offloaded. He knew Dean had a past but the true extent was heavy and large like a mohair blanket tangling at his lips. He couldn’t breathe.
Returning from the altercation, Rupert found Dean next to the stage. A dance troupe were majestically moving to Madonna’s Vogue above them.
“There you are.” Rupert went in for a mouth-to-mouth kiss. Dean jumped back.
“Hey. What the fuck, Rup? Steady on.” Jerry clocked the bubbling commotion and moved to the side of the stage to monitor. He may have been all frock and heels but underneath he was all muscle and Jamie’s bodyguard of sorts. He knew bad guys when he saw one.
“Oh come on, I’m back now. Surely this bull shit isn’t who you are? Don’t you miss non-stop fucking all over the world while our parents foot the bill? The best hotels, bars and restaurants the world has to offer and a first-class fuck to round off the night? Not hiding in the dark with these fucking freaks?” Rupert flung his arms out to dismiss every single thing around him. “He didn’t seem to know about your past. I just asked him how he managed to make an honest man of you. How did he feel being up against all those models, dancers, porn actors? Then he went on some fucking boring drawl about me being bitter. Fucking do-gooder. Don’t you get fucking bored of this? Lee was right. I’m back so you don’t have to be this pathetic puppy after him all the time.”
“Fuck you,” Dean whispered. Jerry inched closer. Talloned hands in fists. He heard everything. Prejudice is intolerable, but it’s worse when it’s coming from within the community itself. A Judas among them.
“What?” Rupert continued to lean lazily against the stage like he owned the place.
Dean launched for him and grabbed his shirt in his fists. “I said fuck you. You fucking disgusting bastard. That man up there is worth a billion of you. He’s the strongest man I’ve ever met. He’s beautiful on the inside, the outside speaks for itself. All you see here is in part or all because of him. Rupert, you need to grow the fuck up. You’re nearly forty years of age. I don’t need saving. I was saved. By him. By these people. I finally see how amazing the world is, it’s right here in our community. Not those first-class bars you adore. I grew up when the party stopped. I met my future boy when I was ready. And now we’re married. And you want passion? We have it in fucking spades. I’m so lucky to be with him. You’re lucky to have fucking met him.”
“Come on. You can’t be serious? This is him talking. He’s brainwashed you. I know what you need.” Rupert let his hand fall to Dean’s crotch. Still defiant even in his grasp.
Dean dropped him to the floor. Jerry joined him looking down and Harry appeared too. “Take a look around. These are not freaks. This is mine and Jamie’s world. Our family. No one talks about them like that. Get the fuck out. You have no right to be here. What are you? Some kind of fucked up inverted homophobe? It’s not all fucking sex. There’s more to life than that. I’ll deal with my brother on my terms but now I need to find Jamie and repair the damage you’ve done. Rup, I had respect for you. Our time together was fun but we grow and evolve. I found my forever in him. It was me chasing him if you must know. These guys had a huge laugh at my expense in the process.”
Jerry hugged him across his chest. “We’re sorry honey. We love you now.” He planted a huge red metallic kiss on Dean’s cheek. Everyone giggled.
“You won’t ever understand but you don’t have to. It’s not for you to figure out. Up there is the most complicated and deepest soul I’ve ever met and he’s hurting because of you. In nine years I’ve never left him hurting so I’m not starting now. I wish you all the best but we’re fucking done here.” Dean clocked the flock of blonde hair in the dim balcony above, still his beacon after all this time, calling, a distress signal. His heart jumped and he followed it. He ran as fast as he could.
Dean scaled the stairs that took him to Jamie. A whiff of cigarette smoke snaked into Dean’s nostrils. Jamie looked small. Despite his armour for the evening.
Dean’s lip rumbled. I can’t see you like this. “Uh, excuse me? You can’t smoke in here?” Dean dabbled in humour to hopefully diffuse what was already about to explode in front of him.
“Oh, hello. Hmmm, not installed smoke detectors up here yet so I’m being naughty.” Jamie sniffled.
“That’s all I get?” Dean edged closer. Arms out.
“What do you want? Haven’t you got some long-lost love to explore down there?” Jamie stared at the stage. Refusing to turn.
Dean went to him and knelt in front of him. He moved his hand up to Jamie’s on his thigh. His heart stopped, and Jamie pulled away.
“Don’t.”
“Jamie. Speak to me. I’m sorry…”
“That was a cheap shot of me. I’m sorry. I’m not going to sit here and try and justify my existence to people like Lee anymore. If he’s hell-bent on me not being good enough that’s his problem. I married you, not him. But for the record? I’m done with him. Finished. And that idiot down there? Yes, what he told me hurt, it didn’t hurt because of what shit he was spewing, it hurt because he intended to make me feel inadequate. I’ve had a lifetime of that. I was almost impressed with the audacity.” He paused. “Babe, I’m ok. I just needed to be away from the noise for a moment. I love you. This is already all so in the past in more ways than one. I trust you with my life. That’s not up for debate. What is? How do we kill him?” Jamie’s eyes were wide and glaring. Then he burst out laughing. Dean smacked his thigh, joining in, Jamie finally grabbed his hand. “I’m obviously joking. Jesus what a jumped-up arsehole.” Jamie snorted.
Dean pulled him to his feet. The relief Jamie was calm was almost physical in his bones. “I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything. It’s history. Not who I am now. You make me who I am now.” His eyes were filled with tears of regret and relief.
“Kiss me you big fucking baby.” Jamie wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean’s thumb and forefinger went to his chin. Exactly where everything should be.
Jerry paused for a moment and a soft smile crept over his face. He gave out a flat little laugh as Rupert finally scrambled to his feet. “You may have known him or thought you knew who he was then. Thinking you’re coming to save him from all of us. But I’m just going to turn you around and cast your eyes up to that little balcony up there. We’ve all wrapped our arms around these two for nearly ten years. They’re our boys now. We claim them. We love them dearly. Dean is one of us. Who he was before wasn’t bad, but my god, who he is now? You have no idea. You’ll find sweethearts everywhere in life but that man up there? Your former Dean Archer? He’s the sweetest. He’s our Dean Arden-Archer now. I was going to ask you to leave but Jamie makes us all forgive. So, have a lovely rest of your evening and just think about what you’re looking at and why you’d want to ever attempt or think you could ruin that. They’ve kissed like that since they met all those years ago. I don’t think they’re ever going to stop. And balconies? It’s their thing. Love. Proposals. Apologies? Always on a balcony.” Jerry slinked away in his ball gown.
Rupert dragged his eyes from the floor up over the heads of the crowd in front of him, along the fairy lights and metallic ribbon suspended across the room and there, in a half-lift balcony was Dean and his husband. Dean’s thumb and forefinger clawed around Jamie’s chin. A frown of meaning, of pain in his brow, his eyelids soft, his lips gliding and rolling over Jamie’s. He wasn’t witnessing a stolen teenage kiss at a prom. He was witnessing Dean extract the misery he’d tried to inflict on Jamie moments before and take it away to dispose of. He was witnessing the absolute centre of marriage.
Rupert smiled in defeat. He pulled out a cheque and went after Jerry. “Hey, Miss Divine. I know my words and presence aren’t going to mean anything after my little performance but please take this. Please tell Jamie I am sorry and tell Dean, he won’t hear from me again.” Rupert slid the cheque over to Jerry behind the DJ booth.
“As I said, we forgive, here. Thank you.” Jerry stuffed the cheque into his bra. “You’re not a bad person Rupert but for fuck’s sake do yourself a favour and move on. I bet Dean and Jamie will forgive you. They do that. Forgive.”
Rupert looked back once more and saw Dean smiling softly, eyes wide. Forehead against Jamie’s. “We never did that. Maybe this is different.” He whispered to himself and went out into the night.
“You look like a rock star tonight, Trouble. Can we go home and fuck like rock stars?” Dean’s hand found Jamie’s behind. Plunging through his silver leather. Jamie gasped.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You’ll have to clarify. Porn or rockstar?” Jamie teased.
“Fuck you.” Dean attempted to a threat but his laugh betrayed him.
“Tell me, any conquests of yours on PornHub?” That was it. Dean had heard enough. He scooped Jamie over his shoulder and ran down the steps from the balcony and through everyone, and out into a waiting cab. Everyone cheered. Jamie laughed hysterically. It felt wonderful.
Dean slammed him onto the back seat, kissing him hard. “I’m sorry again. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Babe, stop. We’re ok.”
Dean straightened. “We are?”
“Is Big Boy crying?” He wasn’t mocking, he was concerned.
“I don’t want to fuck this up again. I nearly lost you. Jamie, the thought makes me nauseous. I…” Dean started hyperventilating.
Jamie bolted upright and pulled Dean’s head to his chest. Keeping his mouth and nose clear. He was having an attack. Jamie the caregiver kicked in immediately. No questions. “Calm. We’re ok. Quiet. Just breathe for me. We’ll be home soon.”
All he heard all the way home were stuttered breaths and sniffles. He held Dean tighter each time they came.
Dean composed as they got out of the car. The cab burbled away. Jamie was adjusting his bolero and Dean stopped. “Look at you. You’re like sent from another world. You hear all that shit about me and still want to hold me when I panic.”
Jamie shrugged. Dean fell in love again. This exotic creature was all his. “It’s my calling. I need to look after you too. I’ve got muscles of my own remember? I can be Big Boy too.” Jamie flexed his arms and a smile as white as the stars glinted. Dean needed him. He looked like a superhero from a comic strip. Dean had to pause and make his brain understand that he was married to this otherworldly creation in front of him.
“Oh fuck. You really are my perfect. Get up those fucking stairs.” Dean could feel himself harden.
“You wore a black shirt. I’m one fucking hell of a flirt when they’re involved.” He pushed his hands behind his back pretending to be shy. A moment later he jumped to a squat. “Catch me if you can.” He ran up the stairs.
They made it to the bedroom. There was a desperation as they pulled at each other's clothes. They’d been here before. Proving what they mean to each other never meant gifts or gestures, that was for everything else, the bedroom was where they settled their scores. That night was no different. Dean had to make Jamie feel like he was central to Dean’s world again. Sometimes words were not always enough.
“No, leave them on.” Dean slapped Jamie’s hand back to the bed when he attempted to push his boots off, the only thing left on him. His fist pushed Jamie’s into the duvet. He wanted Jamie to never forget how his weight and strength over him felt.
There was a scrape as Jamie’s leg gave out and his heel scored the wall above the headboard. This was still his world. Rupert and Lee may have made him question it momentarily but Dean was confirming it with every kiss of his neck, every push into him, every squeeze of his muscles. He came to reason that he might from time to time, need to suit up in his armour and remind certain dissidents that he was The King around here. Dean’s loyalty and love was never in question. He knew that under all the layers. No exes marked spots that night, despite attempts. But Jamie marked his. Above his bed. In his battle boots.
Dean finished with a breathless roar deep inside Jamie. Jamie gasped as it happened. Powerful. Desperate. The wait. The revelations. Were finally over.
July 2019
Gabby’s wedding took place in a picturesque village deep in the Buckinghamshire countryside. Her hometown was the stage for her nuptials as traditions would dictate.
Gabby and Richard shunned spectacle for simplicity. Fast becoming their approach to life. She was fearful Jamie was expecting something huge of her day. In the months before their July second ceremony she had to have his seal of approval. It came. “Gabby, your wedding has to reflect you. You can’t compare these things. They’re such a personal and intimate moment. And the dress, you’re wearing Amelia Wckstrad for Christ’s sake. It’s perfect. You’re the grown-up one of us four. Your day will always be the perfect one. That’s who you are, you’re the perfect one. Trix is the crazy one. Lars the little one. And me?”
“Trouble?” Their heads bowed together in a soft laugh.
“Got it in one, babe.”
The reception would take place at a close by country hotel. A small affair of close family and friends. The only scandal was the surprise on the dance floor later in the evening when everyone was suitably oiled. Gabby, Jamie, Lars and Trix sprang into a vigorously and secretly rehearsed routine to accompany David Bowie’s Let’s Dance. Husbands and families looked on, hands clasped on mouths as they laughed. Dean expected nothing less from Jamie.
The next morning they were driving back to the city when a road maintenance diversion took them via a beautiful town called Marlow. Nestled on the Thames, just outside London.
“Fuck’s sake I’m too hungover for this shit.” Dean smacked the steering wheel of his car. Jamie giggled.
“That’ll teach you for doing whiskey back to back with the groom. Babe, you look so hot driving this car. Damn. Gives me the horn.” Jamie ran a hand over Dean’s crotch. Dean settled.
“Don’t wind me up. Too many eyes around.” He held Jamie’s hand tight against his mound.
“I think I’m too delicate for those antics this morning. I’ll hold him for you, though. Later, for sure.” Jamie promised while looking out of the window at the beautiful sprawling houses passing them at a snails pace.
Dean jolted the car to a sudden stop. “Shit babe, I nearly broke my nose.” Jamie was startled as the car growled to a halt. Dean was gone, running into the road in front of the car.
“Hey, little lady. Are you hurt? Why don’t you show me your house and we’ll get you to mum and dad? I’m Dean. I’m going to help you.”
The pretty little thing was unsure of him until he smiled and she warmed instantly and pointed to her house across the road. She’d gotten out onto the road on her pink bike, accessorised with a white basket and floral streamers of course.
“Ok, let’s get you up and get you safe.” Dean held out hands to cars nudging forward as he picked up the bike in one hand and held hers in the other.
As they got closer to the house Dean’s heart raced. He saw the For Sale sign and tried to hide his grin.
“Good morning, I’m Dean. I believe this little beauty is yours. Full disclosure, I didn’t knock her over, but I think she took a tumble in the road.”
The brunette answering the door was fraught. “Oh gosh thank you so much, I was looking all over for her. Dotty you silly little thing.” She grabbed Dotty into a hug.
“Mummy, I hurt.” Dotty pointed to her little palm. Red and gritty.
“Thank you so much. I saw you pick her up, I know it was her silliness don’t worry. Please come in for a coffee by way of thank you. I’ve made fresh carrot cake if you would indulge me your verdict?”
Jamie saw the whole thing unfold in front of him and his heart swelled. Daddy Dean was a good look for Big Boy. A natural father, taking the lead. He jumped into the driver’s seat and swerved the 911 into Dotty’s driveway.
“Oh, that would be great. Anything to get out of this diversion. I’m going to grab my husband if that’s ok?”
“Husband?” She paused. “Sorry, that was not meant to come out like that. Of course, we’ll be in the kitchen just cleaning up her hand. Melanie. Sorry.”
“Thanks, Melanie. Won’t be a moment.” He turned to see Jamie getting out of the car. “This is it.” He whispered as Jamie walked toward him.
“Have you seen the sign? This place is beautiful.” Jamie’s mouth and eyes were wide with wonder.
“I know. The little girl’s mum just asked us in for a coffee and get this?”
“Yeah?” Jamie whispered with enthusiasm. Their eyes darting back and forth over each other, they’d made the decision silently without having to think. Without stepping over the threshold.
“She’s made fresh carrot cake.”
“Shut up! These are signs! You’re meant to look out for signs when buying houses. Oh, Dean.” They linked hands and walked in.
“We’re selling up because my husband Craig got an offer of a job in Europe we can’t pass up. I want it to go to someone who will cherish it as much as we have. First Christmases, first teeth, potty training, learning to ride bikes, first words. All wrapped up in these walls. She’s very special. A castle for our princess.” Melanie stroked Dotty’s hair as she nuzzled.
“Castle,” Jamie whispered under his breath to himself. His smile hadn’t left him since getting out of the car.
“It’s perfect. The huge kitchen, Dean is the cook, the space, the view, I feel like the house is part of the garden like we’re in it right now, those huge windows are incredible.” Jamie clasped his hands together.
“There’s a balcony in the main bedroom. Perfect for coffee and cake. Take a look around and I’ll bring some more cake and coffee up.”
Jamie looked at Dean and they knew.
Dotty jumped up and ran to Jamie and plonked herself in his lap. “Oh hello, pretty lady. Tell me, Dotty, are you a princess like Jasmine here?” Jamie pointed to her Jasmine and Aladdin colouring book cover.
“Prince.” She pointed at Jamie.
“Not quite my lovely girl. We can all be special to someone in our own way, remember that. We don’t need to be a prince or a princess to be special.” He picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re special though. I can tell. Will you show us your house?”
“Yeah!” She ran her fingers over his face. A little in love.
Dean got up. “Prince Jamie and I would like to look after it for you while you’re away. Would you be ok with that?” He touched her nose with his finger.
“Yes please.”
Melanie laughed. “Don’t mind me, free child care for five minutes, I’m ok with that.”
Jamie grabbed Dean’s hand as they made for the stairs. “I couldn’t love you more than just then. The way you spoke to her. Wow. We need to make you a dad. I love you.”
“You too. Let’s have a look around.” He pushed Jamie’s back onto the stairs.
The main bedroom was bathed in the morning light. They adored London but something about the air here felt right. Clean, quiet. Able to breathe rather than gasping for air. The rolling garden felt like part of the bedroom like it could have been touched from the bed each morning.
Dotty was on Jamie’s shoulders on the balcony. “A princess and a prince on their balcony. How about that Dotty?!”
Dean bit his lip. This really was it.
Dean went out to him and pushed a hand to the small of Jamie’s back.
“Dot, come here, leave our friends enjoy the view.” Dotty slipped down Jamie’s leg and went to her mum.
“More coffee and cake. I’ll leave you to think about things.”
Jamie turned and Dean’s arms were on either side of him. “Babe?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah?”
“I need to move you here immediately. Your face is a picture. Dotty got one thing wrong though.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re a king. My king.”
“Ain’t that the truth Big Boy. What a bedroom huh?” Jamie’s hand slipped to Dean's mound, angry and stubborn again.
“It is. Stop. There’s a princess downstairs.”
That morning they negotiated their move out of the city and into the next chapter of their lives.
In the weeks ahead, following endless back and forth between solicitors they eventually arrived on a date to say goodbye to Notting Hill and London.
September 1st. Harry’s career-defining film premiere would take place the night before.
August 31st
Jamie held Dean’s hand through the entire film. Dean stole a glance at Jamie as it concluded. Tears in his eyes.
“Are you ok?”
“Shit. Yeah. Sorry. I have to talk to him. That was so beautiful. The book is so tragic and he adapted it so delicately. It’s just one of those stories that makes you realise how lucky you are that you acted on those feelings. I mean look where we are now?” Jamie’s eyes finally fell on Dean.
“Well, it’s not news to me, you’re the one who took convincing.” Dean reminded him giggling.
“I’m serious. Imagine I’d never acted on the feelings I had for you and not agreed to that first date. Jesus.”
“Well don’t think about that because you did. You took your fucking time but here we are. One last night in the big city.”
“We still have packing to do.”
“I hear packing while drunk is more fun?”
“Hey. I’m glad we’re holding on to Notting Hill and renting her out. I’m not ready to fully say goodbye to her. I don’t think I ever will.”
“It’s what you wanted. You’re the boss. And uh, her?”
“Oh my god of course. She’s our girl. Our best girl. She’s been through everything with us.”
“I’ll say.”
They found Harry at the bar for the after-party. Jamie wrapped his arms around him. “Oh Step Mother, I’m so proud of you. It was wonderful. You’re a genius. BAFTA is calling I’m sure of it.” He kissed his cheek gently.
“Oh, Baby Boy you’re too much. I did good?”
“Oh better than good.” They held each other for a moment. They knew it would be the last time they’d merrily gaze upon each other as best friends for some time.
“That was incredible. Not my usual action or thriller choice but wow.” Dean followed suit.
There was a quiet acceptance. Everyone was evolving as Dean had told Rupert in April. Here they were. Evolving again. With people who loved them.
“Cheers D. That means a lot. Your seals of approval mean everything to me. So uh, are you guys all set?” Harry wrapped his arm around Dean. Squeezing a little tighter than before.
“Just some final bits, I’m sure he’ll forget something.” Dean got Jamie in a playful headlock.
“We wanted to say congratulations before we headed out. We’ll speak in the week and you’ll have to come out and give our new place your much-needed seal of approval.” Jamie’s eyes pleaded with Harry.
“Oh try and stop me. Have this.” Harry rustled in a bag under his jacket on a bar stool and gave it to Jamie. “It’s nothing special but I think it captures us perfectly. You’re not going to be around as much so let’s just remember who we once were.”
Jamie pulled out the photo. Black and white. Jamie taking a selfie with Dean and Harry on either side. Dean leaning into Jamie for a kiss. Harry laughing uncontrollably. Taken on the roof at Harry’s loft early on in their relationship, one of many where it was just the three of them hanging out. The start of a decade of friendship, fights, proposals, and marriage. Almost at the end of that decade and they were tighter than they’d ever been. Sure, Jamie had his friends too, but Harry was different. He filled a gap Jamie could never quite quantify or explain but knew it was missing until it wasn’t. “Wow Harry, we’re gorgeous.” They all giggled.
Jamie’s eyes went to the plaque in silver below the black-framed photograph:
The tale of the wicked Stepmother, Baby Boy and D… it’s not over.
Jamie grabbed Harry again. “I’m going to miss you, Harry. We love you.”
“Steady on. Jamie, you’re moving to Marlow, not Mars. But yes I’ll miss you not causing a riot in this town so often and I’ll miss this big old mountain of love too.” They all hugged together and eventually broke away.
“Behave. We’ll grab a pint in a week or so.” Dean grabbed his face playfully. Harry winked at him.
“Ok, fuck off both. You don’t deserve my tears. And I’m sure there’s some hot little extra I can take home with me, just need to find him.” Harry teased.
They reluctantly said their final goodbyes and Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the two most iconic heads in his London, finally leave the party.
1st September 2019
Only the sofa remained, too much of a fuss to manoeuvre it out of there. Their favourite place together and it would stay for a new life to seek comfort in. Jamie gripped the front door handle one last time. As he did, every memory of that place coursed through him. His first nervous knocks on that door to join Dean for their first night together. Bursting through it with happy news to share. Scrambling to get it open to check on Dean in moments of panic. His back against either side of it when they were done teasing each other. The slams by either to signal a fight was done or just begun. The parties, the quiet precious moments, everything was in these walls. They were the walls. This place was their bunker for almost ten years. Against the world.
Jamie swallowed something in his throat and gazed at the balcony doors one last time. He smiled warmly. Quietly. “It’s a see you soon remember? Not a goodbye. Thanks, babe.” His contemplation was broken by the one voice that was home, anywhere in the world.
“Babe, it’s time. Let’s hit the road.” Dean called up. He was gentle, he knew Jamie needed a minute alone.
“Be right down.” They didn’t set foot in Notting Hill for nearly two years after that. He closed the door quietly. Letting their memories settle like dust.
As Jamie and Dean settled into their first night in Marlow surrounded by boxes, Dean finally finding the Paris ashtray following hours of Jamie unravelling. They ate takeaway pizza and drank an expensive red Hugo had bought them as a moving gift. Their night concluded by swaying at the kitchen sink to Jazz. Gazing at each other and ignoring the mountain of work ahead.
Back in London, Drew went where he knew he shouldn’t.
He paced in front of Christian in the apartment in Chelsea. His mind was racing. “You seem to be pretty friendly with the mayor, police commissioner and Home Secretary? I know that’s the point of the club, anonymity for members but seriously? They’re all of our persuasion? I assume that’s why they take meetings with you, behind that door?”
Christian snapped his newspaper closed. The headline jolted Drew slightly before it was folded to Christian’s lap. He didn’t want to connect anything but something whispered caution deep inside. Caution that was futile and useless against this man in front of him.
INCREASE IN NEW STRAIN OF LSD TRIPPING LONDON
He breathed hard through his nose and put it to the back of his mind as best he could.
“Come here.” Drew knew better than to disobey. The early flames of control were already burning his feet. Resisting would send him up in flames.
Christian grabbed his face between his thumb and forefinger, the grin was a snarl. A warning. “There’s a fine line between curiosity and sticking one’s nose into where it is not required.” The grip tightened. Drew shuddered, beginning to feel the threat of blood fill around his teeth as they dug against his cheeks. “Keep creating. Keep the push-ups. The crunches. God, that face. You know I’d cut it off and frame it.” Drew felt acid build in his throat. “Don’t ever underestimate the power you’re exposed to here. This city is my laboratory. My playground. I’m left alone because I could bring down the government with just the parting of my lips.” The snarl softened and Drew could see the headline out of the corner of his eye again, like a fellow prisoner trying to get his attention. “So, I think it’s bedtime.” The hand dropped and Christian slid to his feet in one fluid motion. “Best you come too, some of those headlines have got me excited.” He paused without looking back. “You’ll swallow tonight, I think.” He said as if deciding something completely mundane.
Drew collapsed to the floor crouching by the sofa, hoping to be out of earshot, holding his fists against his temples. “Make this stop. Make this stop. Make this stop. Make this fucking stop. Please.” He pleaded with something, anything out there in a desperate whisper.
“I’m sorry?” Christian finally turned.
“I uh, I’ll please you whatever. Yeah. Hot.” Drew found some semblance of desire in his tone. It was as fake as the explanation as to why those men were frequenting the club so often.
The following year, the world would stand still. There was nowhere for Drew to turn.
Author’s Note: Apologies for the delay. Life has been a little more hectic than anticipated. Always appreciate everyone’s patience and wonderful feedback. Enjoy! We’re almost there.
