Boyfriend Chronicles 02 - The Boyfriend Mandate (17 page)

“About what?”

“About my relapse.”

Tyler hesitated, as if adjusting to the change in topic required effort. “You said your cancer returned.”

“With a vengeance,” he said. “I had to have a bone marrow transplant.” He watched Tyler carefully as he shared the next bit. “I developed an overwhelming infection, and my blood pressure dropped so low my heart stopped.”

Tyler sucked in a sharp breath, and, for a split second, his control seemed to splinter, his expression open and raw and leaving him vulnerable in a way that left Memphis wanting to peel back the rest. To find that crack he could use to get Tyler to
really
let loose.

Memphis refused to fill the silence that followed. The faint sound of chatter in the distance seemed loud.

“Son of a bitch,” Tyler whispered harshly as his knuckles turned white against his wineglass.

Now that he had Tyler’s total attention, Memphis knew the next few minutes would prove to be interesting. Several seconds passed as Tyler stared at him, and Memphis waited for him to say something.

When he didn’t, Memphis finally asked, “Do you want to know the most fascinating part of that story?”

Mouth parted, Tyler remained silent and simply blinked.

Memphis absently twisted his bottled water on the table and considered how to share the rest. He’d never told the details of his experience to anyone, not his parents, not any of his four siblings. He hadn’t even told Julissa. But in a way, Tyler had been a part of the process, so it seemed fitting to tell him now.

“You know what people say about that white light?” Memphis said. Tyler tipped his head, and Memphis could tell he was listening carefully. “Well, as cheesy and clichéd as it sounds, it’s true. Though it wasn’t so much a color as a feeling, a feeling of warmth and brightness. The light…” He paused and scanned the cityscape below, searching for the right word.

Years later, the memory still had the ability to move him like no other.

“It enveloped me,” Memphis finished.

Fuck, he knew he’d end up sounding lame.

The words didn’t begin to touch on the sense of peace he’d found. He’d been so exhausted back then, so ready for a way out.

Any way out.

“I saw the light while I was seizing or dead or what-the-freak-ever was going on while they tried to bring me back,” Memphis said. “According to the doctor, I had no pulse for one and a half minutes. I just remember feeling so peaceful, so
not
sick that I was pissed as hell when they brought me back.”

Memphis finished with a small laugh. “I yelled at them and told them that,
next
time, they’d better let me go.”

In the distance, a busboy dropped his tray, and the clatter of dishes in the background was loud.

Tyler’s voice sounded hoarse. “Memphis―”

When Memphis returned his gaze to the man, Tyler was staring at him with pain in his eyes.

An emotional response was always welcome, but Memphis wanted
fire
.

He wanted to find the right trigger to get Tyler to do exactly what he’d claimed he
wouldn’t
do: fuck Memphis. And if that made him a selfish bastard, he figured Fate owed him one. Besides, by now he’d seen plenty of evidence that Tyler wanted him, too.

“So…now you know the story of how I died and was resurrected.” Memphis held his arms out, as if on a crucifix, his grin growing bigger. “Feel free to call me Jesus.”

And then Memphis waited, refusing to speak until Tyler said something.

After that, it would be time for part two of his plan…

Feel free to call me Jesus.

Tyler made a concerted effort to stop gaping at Memphis. Seriously, how could he joke at a time like this?

“
Christ
, Memphis,” Tyler said.

The man’s smile grew huge. “That name will work, too.”

Several stunned seconds ticked by, and then Tyler huffed out a sharp laugh of disbelief. He studied Memphis’s boyish dimples, and, despite everything, he felt a responding grin coming on. But then the thought of smiling died because Memphis had died.

He’d
died
.

The full truth finally hit Tyler with the shock of ten defibrillators—plus twenty—preventing any chance at a normal heart rate. Tyler turned to stare at the downtown San Francisco roofline, far below. He had to force himself to take in a breath, to relax his muscles.

After all these years apart, after everything he’d been through, he realized he couldn’t imagine a world in which Memphis didn’t exist. All that energy and life, extinguished forever. Seeing the occasional magazine photo of a smiling Memphis with his wife had been painful, no doubt. But Tyler hadn’t recognized until now just how much he’d relied on simply knowing that Memphis was out there, somewhere. Happy and alive.

And,
God
, Tyler didn’t want to think about what that meant.

Unfortunately, before he could reach anything resembling a cool and collected state, Memphis leaned his elbows on the small table, bringing the citrus scent and his face closer. The sexy as hell grin and those mesmerizing hazel eyes, too. The proximity killed Tyler’s relaxation attempts, and he had to sit back just to keep from coming unglued.

“You know the first thing I wanted to do when they brought me back to life?” Memphis asked.

His voice raw, the word stung on the way out. “What?”

“Find you and make you understand why I left. To ask you to accept my apology,” he said. “And now seems like a good time, don’t you think? Because”—his smile grew lopsided, the single remaining dimple as deep as his tone was flippant—“the next time I die, it’ll probably be for good.”

Tyler opened his mouth, struggling for something to say, when a briefcase plopped loudly to the table, and his muscles tensed.

“Memphis Oliver Haines,” Julissa said as she took a seat.

Shit.

Tyler briefly pressed his lids closed, trying to regain control of chaotic thoughts that involved dying and desertion and forgiveness and absolution. When that didn’t work, he looked at Julissa, the lovely woman with the caramel-colored skin and eyes the shade of dark chocolate.

“Next time you get hurt”—she pointed a finger at her ex-husband—“I’ll drag you to the ER myself.”

For three heartbeats, Memphis’s eyes remained fixed on Tyler, clearly waiting for a response to his apology statement despite the appearance of Julissa. But what the hell was Tyler supposed to say with the recent interruption?

You broke my heart, but I forgive you, now let’s have dinner with the woman you married?

“I’m okay, Jules,” Memphis said with a smile. “It’s just a concussion.”

Just
?

“Which means you’re supposed to take it easy the next few days,” Tyler said.

If Memphis kept pushing himself, that
next time I die
would happen sooner than he thought. The man crossed his arms, and his biceps stretched the sleeves of his T-shirt. The posture was an obvious attempt to flaunt his total lack of concern he’d sustained a head injury yesterday.

“Don’t take that risk again.” Julissa scowled at Memphis with an expression that managed to convey more affection than anger. “And you listen to Tyler. No overexerting yourself just yet. ¿
Comprende
?”

Tyler considered thanking her for the backup, but that would have been awkward as hell. Fortunately he was saved from responding when the waitress arrived with a tray and began to serve them their food. Julissa moved her briefcase to the deck. She dug into her salad while discussing business with Memphis, and Tyler’s mind continued to spin.

With the arrival of Memphis’s ex-wife, the small table seemed to shrink by a hundredfold.

“So Noah and I had a brainstorming session today,” she said.

The mention of Noah broke through Tyler’s thoughts.

She turned to Tyler. “We have an idea for the commercials.”

He studied Julissa’s expression as the air around the table grew charged with an energy he couldn’t identify.

Julissa picked up her salad fork, her voice too nonchalant not to notice. “Noah and I came up with a way to capitalize on Memphis’s current publicity.”

The mention of his friend and the publicity in the same sentence sent a stab of concern through Tyler, just like the first time. Because Noah had been the one to book a drag queen for the entertainment during Dylan’s poker run two years ago, a fund-raiser involving die-hard motorcycle enthusiasts. Noah had also supplied the meat-and-potatoes crowd with delicate apple-and-goat-cheese hors d’ oeuvres. Worse, he’d served virgin daiquiris and pink cosmopolitans to the beer-obsessed, Harley-loving riders.

“Just a bit of forewarning,” Tyler said dryly. “Noah’s ideas rarely work out as planned.”

She coolly met his gaze. “I happen to think we came up with a foolproof one.”

His stomach flipped, and he reached for his wineglass. Even when Noah wasn’t around, the mention of his name spurred the need for alcohol.

Julissa took a bite of her salad, chewed, and swallowed before speaking again. “We want to take the public’s fascination with Memphis’s sexual orientation and incorporate the issue into the commercials.”

Tyler coughed on his wine. Oh, God, what was Noah up to
now
? He set his drink back down, bracing for what came next.

“How?” Memphis popped a French fry into his mouth, as unconcerned about the subject as Tyler was wary.

“Originally Noah planned for the commercials to consist of you performing a stunt on your way to attend the fund-raiser as a guest. You know”—Julissa waved her hand in a gesture that reminded Tyler of Noah—“a kind of James Bond theme, like when Daniel Craig pretended to parachute into the stadium at the start of the summer Olympics.” She set her fork down. “Except you were supposed to arrive on the street outside the Bachelor Bid venue. After considering the current situation, Noah and I want it to appear as if you arrive at the door of the
date
you’re to accompany to the Bachelor Bid instead. In one commercial, your date will be a woman. And in the second commercial…” Julissa’s eyes shifted from Memphis to Tyler and then back again, “your date will be a man.”

Christ
.

Tyler nearly groaned out loud. Clearly he’d completely underestimated the mind-fuckery brought about by the combination of Julissa and Noah in the same room. True to form, Memphis simply sat back in his chair and laughed hard. It was a good minute before he recovered enough to speak.

“Fuck me,” Memphis finally wheezed between chuckles. When he caught his breath, he went on. “I love that idea.”

Tyler had to smother the knee-jerk
absolutely not
. The thought of prolonging his bout in the limelight was hardly appealing.

“It would be a fun way to send the media a big F U,” she said.

Memphis finally caught Tyler’s eye, and the lingering amusement on the stuntman’s face fell away. Tyler suspected the guy was remembering the publicity had affected more than just
him
, and the humiliating repercussions.

Memphis turned to Julissa. “I’m not even going to try and sell Tyler on this,” he said. “And I won’t agree to the idea unless he gives his okay.”

Tyler was ready with a
thank you for taking my feelings into consideration—
ignoring, of course, the time when Memphis
hadn’t—
when Julissa turned her chair to face Tyler and crossed her legs, obviously preparing for a long discussion. A woman on a mission. A female version of Noah.

Oh, God. Just shoot me now
.

“I guarantee the current publicity will make these commercials hugely popular,” she said.

Tyler kept a firm hold on his wineglass. “I’m sure it will,” he said with a nod.

“You’ll have to rent a larger reception hall for your Bachelor Bid.”

“As MC, Noah would be thrilled with a larger audience,” he said noncommittally.

She paused and crossed her arms to match her legs. “You’ll make enough money to finally reach your financial goals for your housing fund.”

Tyler almost smiled. He could hear Noah’s words in her speech. No doubt the man had coached her on the best way to get him to agree. She opened her mouth, as if to go on, and Tyler was curious as to what she’d say next. But then her briefcase chirped, and she pulled out her cellular, glancing down at the screen.

“I have to take this call,” she said as she stood. “Think about what I said, Tyler.”

She headed to the far edge of the deck, talking into her phone.

Tyler sat back and picked at his veggie wrap, turning her idea over in his mind as he watched Memphis devour his cardiac-inducing hamburger with the damn-the-torpedoes way he approached everything. No matter how hard Tyler tried to work up a worthy argument against Julissa’s plans, he found he couldn’t.

Because Memphis had
died
.

Tyler massaged the back of his neck, trying to loosen the tense muscles. Memphis had literally died, and despite Tyler’s troubles with the reporters, the inconvenience of hiding out at Noah’s, and the occasional humiliating comments that questioned his abilities in bed—Christ, he’d hated that part—none of that really mattered anymore. How could he care about being considered the reason Memphis Haines had decided to go straight? What difference did the public’s opinion about their sex life really make?

Memphis had survived and could now live the life of a homosexual, or a heterosexual, or a bisexual, or any of the complicated variations in between. The fact that he still walked on, or occasionally plummeted toward, Earth was nothing short of a miracle. Death had a way of putting things into proper perspective—separating out the really important things from the ones that
weren’t.

And speaking of plummeting…

He switched his gaze from Julissa, who was still talking on the phone across the deck, back to Memphis. “The high fall will be used in the first commercial,” he said. “What’s the plan for the second?”

Memphis wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I decided on a base jump because of their low cost. All I need is two cameramen, my parachute, and a destination tall enough to jump off.”

A breath of humor puffed from Tyler’s mouth. Typical. Memphis had listed out the equipment and his intentions as if they all deserved equal merit. Camera, check. Parachute, check. A destination tall enough to jump off? Check, check. But the worry tightening in Tyler’s chest was a wasted effort, especially considering the guy lived the life of a stuntman.