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“No, I swear it.” He started to come toward me again, and I backed up a step.
“Go inside, Jace, or I swear to God…”
“Okay. Okay, I’m going.” He slowly retreated to the porch and opened the door like he was going inside the house. Then he closed the door again softly, like he was trying to muffle the sound and he came back to stand in the shadows on the porch and watch me. I guess he thought it was dark enough, and I was stupid enough to think he’d gone inside. It took everything I had not to go up there on the porch and beat his little ass. Take him in my arms and kiss him and fondle him and make love to him for hours, days.
Instead, I paced up and down for a few minutes after I called an Uber to come pick me up. It felt like a long time that I waited, feeling his gaze on me and wondering what the fuck I was going to do about him. Finally, I saw the Uber drive slowly up the street and then pull up at the end of the driveway. I got in and the driver took off, taking me back to the bar I’d come from.
I never so much as glanced back at the house, because I knew he was still there watching me from the shadows of the porch. I could feel the pull of him like he was a magnet, and I was a pile of iron filings. I was a pile of something, all right, for taking advantage of him like that when he was so vulnerable. I wanted to hit something or scream or maybe throw up myself, like Jace had. I needed to purge myself of these feelings I had for him, but I didn’t know how. I needed to go back there and throw myself at his feet and apologize for taking advantage of him, but I couldn’t do that either. The best thing I could do for him was to stay away.Even though it was killing me.
I went back to the club and found Conway and Vanessa. Then I proceeded to drink way too much. But I didn’t get so drunk that I stopped thinking about him, standing there in the dark on the porch, all alone. When I got to my room that night—all by myself—I fell on top of the bedspread, not even bothering to undress. I lay for a long time in the dark wondering what the hell I’d done and what that kiss and the rest might mean. Jace had been through enough and was still going through it. I had to find a way to help him. I was still wondering how I could do that when I fell asleep.
Chapter Eight
Jace
Most of Saturday I spent lying around on my bed, making extravagant promises to my body to take better care of it in the future. By Sunday afternoon, I was up and around, in a manner of speaking, but moving very slowly. I cursed the name of Jose Cuervo and avoided daylight. Even the light inside the refrigerator made my eyes hurt.
I hadn’t slept well—what else was new? I couldn’t get Logan out of my mind and how I’d kissed him in front seat of the Buick and would have been happy to stay there kissing him forever. I didn’t even know if Logan was his real name, though he said it was.
What I did know was that I wanted to see him again. I wanted him to come back over and sit on my mama’s front porch or in her kitchen and ask me questions and harass me and make me nervous—or do anything he wanted, as long as he came back. As long as I could see him again.
Despite the weather being nice outside, I stayed in because I had a massive hangover and I spent most of the day watching old movies on the small TV in my bedroom, only venturing out briefly in the afternoon, wearing dark sunglasses and fortified by aspirin, to take Tyler for a walk to the ice cream store and back. Around five o’clock, my cell phone rang with a number I didn’t remember programming into my phone. I hoped for one wild moment it was Logan, but when I eagerly said hello, the man on the other end said his name was Dale Snyder, and he was the owner of the Shakespearean theater,The Bard’s Playhouse.He said Dylan had been coming by the theater recently and had even auditioned for a role as Iago. He told me that several of Dylan’s friends were actors there and they were really concerned about his disappearance. They had made flyers and wanted to do a media event to talk about Dylan and raise awareness.
The Playhouse, as it was known around town, was a small theater, seating only about a hundred people, stadium style and in the round. Not quite as popular as its counterpart,Shakespeare’s Tavernin midtown, but it still had a devoted fan base and patrons that kept it in business.
“Mr. O’Neal, how are you holding up?” he asked in his big plummy actor’s voice when I answered. “I understand from several of the actors here that you and Dylan were in a relationship. We thought you might like to come by tonight. Sorry for the short notice, but I just managed to pull all this together, after I got confirmation that a reporter from the AJC would be stopping by.”
The AJC was the Atlanta Journal and Constitution, the biggest newspaper in Atlanta. If a reporter was coming, it was kind of a big deal. I’d heard Dylan talk about this guy, Snyder. He said that though the man wasn’t British, he liked people to think he was. He was about fifty, a large guy, with a bushy red beard and a lot of ambition. Dylan said he looked like a lumberjack with his clothing choices—plaid shirts and jeans and big, workman type boots. At least six four, he was overweight, but had strong, broad shoulders and muscular arms and legs. Not at all what you might picture in your mind when you thought of a Shakespearean actor, though Dylan said he wasn’t too bad.
He and his wife Ann owned the small theater and they both acted in and directed many of the plays. Ann had inherited all the money, again according to Dylan, and it was still all in her name. He said she ruled the roost both in the theater and at home.
“It will be in the lobby at around six-thirty, before tonight’s performance, which we’ve dedicated to Dylan. Sorry for the late notice, but I hope you’ll come. Dylan’s friends don’t think the police are doing enough to find Dylan, and we wanted to just help the effort a little, so we’ve made flyers and we’re asking Dylan’s friends to help us distribute them.” There was a little pause. “Look, I think you should know that some of Dylan’s friends objected to you being there tonight, to be honest, but I decided this on my own. I know Dylan would want you there, and I know that you, in particular, will want to be involved.” There was a long pause. “Don’t you?”
Maybe it was just me, but that last part sounded almost accusatory, even defiant, like he wanted me not to prove him wrong. I knew that most of Dylan’s so-called friends didn’t like me. I figured it was because of our rocky history or more accurately, whatever Dylan had told them about it. God only knew what all he had said about me. So yeah, his friends pretty much hated me and made sure I knew it whenever we ran into one of them while we were out somewhere.
Considering what Dylan’s friend Toby told the detectives, I had no doubt that I had a leading role in this latest drama too, even though I had no idea what could have happened to Dylan and was frankly worried sick about him.
Even though I was worried, I had to admit to a feeling of momentary relief at the idea Dylan might be out of my life once and for all, but as the days passed and there wasn’t any word, I had grown increasingly worried about him. I still thought he was off somewhere being irresponsible, maybe hiding out from creditors, maybe with some new guy, or even playing one of his games, but I had a bad feeling as the days kept passing with no word of him. What if his creditors had caught up to him?
I hadn’t wanted this. Neverthis. Dylan had erupted into my life like a volcano, leaving inestimable damage behind him. But it was hard to imagine all that flame and smoke and chaos was simply gone. Extinct and reduced to cold, dead ashes. I couldn’t believe it.
I wouldn’t.
Dale made some small sound on the other end, and I realized I hadn’t answered him yet and the silence had gone on a while. “Mr. Snyder, you realize…I mean, Dylan and I…we weren’t together. Did you know that?”
There was another long pause before he spoke again, and this time his voice held a definite chill. “Does that mean you won’t come?”
“No, no, not at all. Of course, I’ll be there. Of course. I’ll come and get the flyers and do whatever I can to help. I’ll be happy to.”
There was a little grunt on the other end. “All right then. Dylan needs all his friends to rally around him. He doesn’t have any family left, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” Actually, I didn’t know much about Dylan’s life before I met him. He had told me that he was pretty much alone in the world. He said his parents were dead. Once I had wanted to make up for all that and take the place of that family he didn’t have. I’d wanted to be his everything, like he had been mine for a while. Hard to believe I had once been so young and foolish.
“Well, we’ll see you tonight. Six-thirty.” He hung up on me then before I could get another word in. What on earth hadDylan told his friends about me anyway?
As it was already after five, I went in to take a shower and shave and try to look a little more human. All day I had avoided thinking about Logan and that shocking kiss and the even more shocking things that had come afterward. But as I stood in the shower, letting the hot water beat down on me, my thoughts honed right in on him and what he might say to me when I saw him again.
Would he acknowledge what had happened in my car or pretend it had never happened? Did I want him to talk about it? Or did he scare me to death? I’d never seen a guy who was more straight-looking and straight acting than Detective Logan, though the kiss he gave me, not to mention the way he responded when I wrapped my hand around his dick, would go a long way toward proving that statement wrong. He seemed pretty damn gay when I was stroking his cock. Was there any way he was attracted to me? Did I want him to be?
