Stage Fright (19 page)

Jesse wrinkled his nose. Ben smelled like he’d had more than a few already, and something in Ben’s tone warned him to be cautious. “That’s right.”
“So how about now?”

“Now?”

 

“Sure. Right now.”

“I’m sorry. I’m meeting someone.” Jesse glanced around again, looking for Val’s car. He didn’t know exactly where it was, but Val always parked in the same area.
There. It wasn’t far away, but he didn’t have a key.

“You think you’re better than me?”
Jesse whipped around to face Ben. “What?”
Ben wasn’t smiling now. “You think because you’ve got women falling all over

you, that makes you something special? More of a man?” His voice was flat. “No.” Jesse wasn’t scared. Not yet. But his body recognized danger. His heartbeat
increased, and his breathing deepened, getting him ready to fight or flee. “Of course
not.”
“I don’t get it. You’re still just a fag.” Ben frowned. “You’re not more of a man
than me.”
Ben was drunk, and the meet and greet had taught Jesse drunks were
unpredictable. Jesse kept his voice even and unthreatening. “Ben, I think you’d better
go.”
“Or what? You gonna kick my ass?” Ben stepped forward, his fists clenched at his
sides.
Jesse shook his head. He shifted his weight and inched back, toward a row of cars.
“We both know you’re bigger than me.”

“That’s right. I always got the takedown in wrestling.” Ben grinned. “I liked wrestling.”
“You were good at it,” Jesse agreed, stalling as he considered his options. He wouldn’t win in a fight with Ben. He could run, but the hotel entrance was behind the other man. Running the opposite way would take him deeper into the parking lot, farther away from people. Maybe if he had to, he could hide between some of the cars, play hide-and-seek long enough to text Val and ask him to bring security.
“You never managed the escape. You tried hard, though. Wanna try now? See if you can win a match?” Ben bent his knees and shuffled forward, hands held out in front in a classic wrestling starting position.
“You’re kidding, right?”

Ben’s eyes were glassy. “Come on, Jesse. You wanna try to take me down?” “No.” Jesse backed up. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He felt the bumper of a car against the back of his leg. “I never liked wrestling.”

Ben charged the last few steps. Jesse slipped between the cars, but Ben grabbed him by the neck of his T-shirt to haul him back. Jesse gripped Ben’s arm, scrambling to keep his feet under him and stay upright. As Ben dragged him out, he half fell against the vehicle to his right. Lights flashed on and off, and the short, sharp horn blasts were earsplitting.

With a triumphant cry, Ben pulled him clear and spun him around. Cold metal seemed to burn his cheek as Ben shoved him down and held his face against the hood of a car. This one didn’t have an alarm, but behind them the flashing lights and loud honking continued.

“Let go.” Jesse struggled frantically, but Ben had an arm threaded under Jesse’s armpit, his hand pressed on the back of Jesse’s head in a half nelson.
One arm was trapped beneath him. Jesse jerked and bucked, trying to throw Ben off. He pulled at Ben’s wrist with his free hand until Ben hooked his arm under Jesse’s, immobilizing him with an arm bar.
“Gotcha.” Ben leaned in. The sharp fumes of whiskey stung Jesse’s nose. “You always were a little cock-tease, squirming and wiggling your ass against me when we wrestled.”
Jesse froze. Ben had one meaty thigh between his, pinning him against the car. Oh, God. He was hard. Jesse closed his eyes, swallowing bile.
“Look at you, panting for it. You still like it hard and fast? ’Cause I’m happy to oblige.” Ben thrust against him once, twice. “Just say the word.”
Jesse groaned with dismay. “Ben, don’t.”
Ben moved to stand between Jesse’s legs, forcing his feet wider apart. The erection digging into his butt felt massive. “Why not? I always wanted to tap that ass. Never thought I’d get the chance, though. Then I saw you twitching it on Marsha’s little vacation video, and I thought maybe I should look you up.”

“You’re gay?” Jesse blurted.

 

Ben banged his face against the car. The metallic thud was deafening.

 

“I’m no fag. No one’s getting their dick anywhere near my ass.”

 

Jesse shook with impotent rage. This guy was buried so deep in denial he needed an excavator to get out.

As a teenager Jesse had been filled with shame and self-loathing. Not because he was gay, but because he’d lacked the courage to stand up for himself. And all those taunts and homophobic slurs he’d endured, the stupid rumor that he’d gotten a hard-on during wrestling—Ben Mitchum had instigated all of it.

The anger and disgust Jesse thought he’d put behind him when he left high school were right back with him like a couple of long-lost friends.
Hi, Jesse. Good to see you again.
But this time he wasn’t directing either emotion at himself. Fury flowed through him like molten lava. It burned away all the useless baggage and left the essence of who he was, the bedrock of his personality, unharmed and scoured clean.

He couldn’t stop the words from spewing out of his mouth like acid. He didn’t care that Ben had him pinned. “Every day I had to put up with people whispering behind my back, stupid jokes, names. And you encouraged them. You started that rumor, and the whole time you were gay. Just like me.”

Ben hauled him up by his hair and shoved his face into the car again. Light blossomed behind his eyelids, though he managed to turn his head to the side in time to save his nose.

“I’m nothing like you.” Ben stepped back. “Your kind disgusts me.”

Jesse shook his head to clear it. The car alarm had stopped, but his ears were still ringing. He got his hands under him and pushed to his feet. He panted, trying to get enough air past his burning throat. “You’re right. You’re not like me. Maybe I didn’t want the whole world to know back then, but at least I accepted who I am.”

“You little shit.”

Ben rushed at him, swinging wildly. Jesse ducked and sidestepped. Ben collided with the car. He staggered back and fell, hitting the pavement hard.
Jesse held his ground. His body hummed like a live wire. He was done with running and hiding. He wouldn’t say no to some help, though. As Ben lay there groaning, Jesse sent out a silent plea.
Hurry up, Val.

Chapter Fifteen

Val hurried as he left the bar, eager to see Jesse. The last couple of days had been agony. He’d been afraid to contact him in case Jesse said he never wanted to see Val again. He’d really messed up, letting Jesse see how insecure and petty he was. And then he’d made that crack about coming out.

He hadn’t meant to. He knew Jesse didn’t like stripping. His man liked dancing, that was obvious, but it was just as obvious he didn’t like flirting with the audience, making small talk, and getting groped. But just a couple of days earlier Mike and Val had chatted before the theater doors opened. Mike told him how he’d met Jesse. How he’d coaxed him into auditioning and that Jesse had been offered a part-time ensemble position right then and there. Mike had sounded as proud of Jesse as if he’d been the one who taught him his moves. He’d said Chaz was planning a new promo video featuring the main dancers, including Jesse, that Chaz and Jesse had discussed it over lunch.

Val hadn’t known any of that. Jesse hadn’t mentioned the lunch. So when Jesse had said he was quitting during their fight, it didn’t mesh with what Mike told him. If Jesse was involved in a new promo video, he couldn’t give up stripping anytime soon. Val winced. He still shouldn’t have said what he did. He’d been way out of line.

But something was bothering Jesse lately. He’d been pensive and withdrawn. Not at all his usual sunny, cheerful self. Val didn’t like seeing him unhappy. He wanted Jesse to confide in him so he could help. Maybe it was related to work, but Val wondered if somehow it had to do with the jock who kept hanging around.

Val desperately wanted to know who he was, if he was an old boyfriend, though Val couldn’t see Jesse dating a caveman. He hadn’t wanted to ask outright. He’d hoped Jesse would tell him on his own. Instead Jesse had skirted the truth about the jock and that scratch. And his furious reaction to the hickey hurt more than Val had expected.

Val dodged a cocktail waitress as he wove through the crowded casino. He’d been so stupid. He couldn’t believe his angry words hadn’t pushed Jesse away forever. And now Jesse had given up stripping and stepped out of the closet. Val was proud of Jesse for coming out. The man had his own reasons, and they might have very little to do with Val, but Jesse’s actions, and that fact that he wanted to talk, seemed like good omens.

Val exited the hotel and turned toward the parking lot. These last two days he’d learned just how much he cared about Jesse. He wanted to think it wasn’t too late. That he hadn’t screwed things up permanently. Somehow he’d have to convince Jesse he wasn’t an overbearing, jealous jerk.

He dug his keys out, heading toward his car. Jesse had said he’d meet him there, but Val hadn’t thought about how big and deserted the parking lot was, and staff had to park closer to the far end. It was probably fine, but Val walked faster.

A car alarm was going off, and he heard shouting, but neither occurrence was anything new in Vegas. Drunks were always bellowing at each other and stumbling around, bumping into things. He couldn’t see anyone, but it sounded as if the shouting and the alarm were in the same area. Headlights flashed on and off near his car. A sliver of unease pierced his gut. Where was Jesse?

He approached quietly, his unease urging him to be cautious. The alarm had reset, but the argument continued, though he couldn’t make out the words. He kept close to the rows of vehicles, trying to avoid being seen until he figured out what was going on. He might need the element of surprise. The only problem with sneaking around was that he couldn’t see who was yelling at whom.

He heard Jesse’s voice, full of contempt, and the other man’s snarled response before he saw them.

Val rushed around a minivan. One row over a man lurched forward, swinging a haymaker. His intended victim dodged the wild punch, slipping easily under his attacker’s arm. Momentum drove the man forward, straight into a parked car. He staggered back and fell heavily with a sickening thud. The parking lot lights shone on blond hair as a smaller man straightened from a crouch, fists raised in front of him to block. Jesse! Val broke into a run.

As he ran, he shouted. “Hey! I’m calling Metro!”

Jesse looked up, startled. “Val!” His relieved expression was gratifying. The other man, clearly drunk, sat on the asphalt rubbing his shin. Val spared him a quick glance. Given his and Jesse’s orientation, he’d assumed the drunk was a gay basher, but he recognized Jesse’s attacker. This was the asshole he’d seen arguing with Jesse outside the food court, the one who had grabbed him angrily.

He took Jesse by the arm and guided him back, out of reach. He kept the jock in his line of sight. “Are you okay?”
Jesse rubbed his temple. “Yeah.”

“You’re hurt? I thought he missed you.” Val managed to tamp down his anger. He took Jesse’s chin and carefully turned his face into the light. The skin above his right eyebrow was already discolored. He’d have a pretty good bruise in the morning unless they could get some ice on it soon.

Jesse wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m okay.”

The jock lumbered to his feet. “Isn’t this special. You the boyfriend?” Val stepped in front of Jesse. “Who the fuck are you?”
The bigger man held out his hands, palms up. “Relax. I’m an old friend of Jesse’s.”

Val spoke without turning. “Jesse?”

 

Jesse’s voice was flat. “His name’s Ben Mitchum. We went to the same high school.”

 

“That’s right. Jesse and me are old buddies. Right, Jesse?”

 

“We’re not friends.”

Val kept the satisfaction off his face and his focus on Mitchum. “Do you want me to call Metro?” he asked Jesse.
Mitchum sneered. “What the hell is that? A cab company?”

“Las Vegas Metropolitan Police, idiot.”

 

Mitchum shuffled back a step. “No need to call the cops. We just had a little disagreement.”

 

“Jesse?” Val asked again.

 

“No.” Jesse sounded tired.

“Well, then.” Mitchum dusted off his jeans. He glanced at Jesse, then shifted his gaze to Val, his expression calculating. “You know, it’s true we weren’t buddies. But the whole football team knew Jesse. He gave a better blowjob than any of the cheerleaders.”

“Bastard!”

 

Jesse shot forward, but Val clamped a hand on his shoulder, the other around his arm. “Don’t, Jesse.” He fought his own urge to strike the Neanderthal down.

 

Jesse’s body trembled with suppressed rage. “He’s lying.”

 

Val squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “I know.”

Mitchum smirked. “Guess I’ll see you at the ten-year reunion, Jesse. Looking forward to it.”
Jesse started forward again, and Val tightened his grip. He spoke forcefully. “Get out of here before I knock you on your ass.”
Mitchum eyed him. “You can’t take me.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Val shrugged. “You’re big, but you’re drunk, and I’m willing to take a couple of hits if it means I get to kick the crap out of you once you’re down. And I’ll have help. I bet Jesse’d love to take a shot at you too.”
Mitchum’s eyes widened.

Val kept a restraining hand on Jesse’s shoulder as Jesse shifted restlessly. Mitchum studied Jesse, then Val. He shook his head as if unconcerned, but he backed up a few feet. “Fucking queers.” He spun on his heel, staggered slightly, and walked off into the darkness.

Val waited till he was a good twenty feet away, then turned and led Jesse to his car. He opened the passenger door. Jesse dropped into the seat and closed his eyes.
Val let Jesse rest while he drove to an all-night gas station and convenience store. He pulled in. “I’ll be right back.”

When he came out of the store, Jesse still had his eyes closed. Val turned on the interior light. “Let me see that bruise.”

Jesse opened his eyes and sucked in a breath. “I never blew anyone on the football team. I wasn’t some kind of…football groupie,” he said indignantly.
“I know. He was just saying that to be an asshole.” Val carefully pushed Jesse’s hair off his face. The bruise was already a purplish red.
“He is an asshole.” Jesse relaxed and settled back, allowing Val to examine his face. He seemed grateful to be believed. Val wasn’t sure why. Jesse was a one-lover-ata-time kind of man. He was far too much of a romantic to engage in blowjobs behind the bleachers.