Crushed Page 7

  Right?

  As if on cue, the pager in his front pocket began to vibrate. Pulling it out, Wes glanced at the display—Roger’s work number scrolled across it, followed by the numbers 911. Like it’s a real emergency. When he clicked off the beeper, it stopped shuddering. “Damn it,” he muttered. “What’s he want now?”

  “Roger?” Cindy asked. When Wes nodded, she grinned. “I bet his ears are burning. You gonna call him back?”

  “I have to.” If he didn’t, Wes would never hear the end of it. “Can I use your phone?”

  Cindy pointed at the phone hanging on the wall. As Wes crossed the room, she dragged the trashcan over to the back door, the plastic scraping along the kitchen floor with a horrid screech. “I’ll just take this out,” she said. “Give you some privacy.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  He didn’t plan to talk with Roger for long. He was sure his boyfriend didn’t really have anything he wanted to talk about—”Just checking up on you,” he’d say. Wes had heard it so often before that he didn’t need to call to hear it again.

  But Cindy shook her head. “No, really, it’s cool.” As she struggled to get the trashcan out the door, she told him, “Don’t go rooting through the message board, you hear me?” The look she shot him begged him to defy her. “There’s nothing there you’re looking for anyway.”

  Wes laughed as she stepped out onto the back porch. “Don’t worry.”

  Picking up the receiver, he dialed the number to the music shop from memory. As the phone rang in his ear, he let his gaze slide over the papers tacked to the cork board that hung above the phone. What did Cindy think he’d do, start calling numbers at random? She was right, there was nothing he needed up there, just family numbers and a week old lottery ticket, a marriage announcement torn from the paper, a few overdue bills with dates circled in red ink, a list of fellow employees’ phone numbers…

  The phone rang again and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the back door was shut and Cindy outside. Then he took down the employee list, scanning it quickly. At first he didn’t see what he was looking for, and he thought he heard Tom in the hall, heading his way, so he tacked the list back up to the board. He even stuck the thumbtack back into the same hole as before. In his ear, someone asked, “Hello? Chords and Keys.”

  There. He found it, at the bottom of the list—Nathan’s name. Followed by seven digits. His phone number.

  She says she can’t give me the number, then points me in the right direction after all. Cindy, I love you. Aloud, all he could manage was, “Roger.”

  “No,” the man on the other end told him. “This isn’t him. This is—”

  Wes sighed. “I know that,” he said, a little peeved. Why didn’t his boyfriend answer the phone if he knew Wes would be calling him right back? “Let me talk to Roger.”

  “Can I ask who’s calling?”

  Must be the new kid. Wes wondered if he should say he was Roger’s boyfriend…wouldn’t that make things interesting?

  But he didn’t. He knew Roger well enough to know he wouldn’t think it was funny. “Not at work,” he’d tell him. Then he wouldn’t beep him anymore, he’d just call him up, and Wes didn’t need that interruption throughout his day.

  “Tell him it’s Wes,” he said as he spied a pen on the top of the microwave. He managed to snag it with the tips of his fingers and then scribbled on a napkin until it started to write.

  In his ear he heard the kid holler for Roger, and then his boyfriend’s soft voice purred, “Hey there, sexy thing. You thinking of me?”

  “I am now,” Wes told him, copying down Nathan’s phone number. “What’s going on?”

  “Business is slow,” Roger said with a sigh. “I might get off early.”

  Wes laughed because he knew Roger expected it. “Like when?” He double-checked Nathan’s number to make sure he had written it correctly.

  He could hear the grin in his boyfriend’s voice. “When I see you again. Tonight?”

  No. He wanted to maybe call Nathan tonight, just to talk, and how the hell could he do that with Roger over? Excuse me, babe, I’ll just be in the bedroom having phone sex. Why don’t you go walk the dog or something?

  No, that definitely wouldn’t work. “I don’t think so,” he hedged. “I’m—I’ll be here a little while longer. This place is a mess.”

  “Tom’s?” Roger asked.

  Wes nodded. When he realized Roger couldn’t see the gesture, he said, “Yeah. I’m not sure when we’ll be done.”

  For a long moment Roger didn’t respond. Please, Wes prayed. Please don’t push it.

  What if Roger demanded to come over? What if he drove over on his own and found Wes’s car in the driveway, or if he called Tom after he left just to see if he were still there? You shouldn’t have lied, but it was too late, wasn’t it? Too damn late.

  After an eternity of silence, Roger growled, “Fine. I thought maybe you wanted to go out to a club or something—”

  “Not tonight,” Wes interrupted.

  “But I guess I was wrong,” Roger continued, ignoring him. “I guess you have so many more important things to do than have some fun with your fucking boyfriend.”

  Wes sighed. “Roger,” he warned, “don’t—”

  “Call me if you change your mind.”

  Before Wes could say another word, Roger slammed down the phone in his ear.

  Wes replaced the receiver. Once again I’ve managed to piss him off. Then his very next thought was, Maybe I can call Nathan real quick.

  And say what? Hi? What if Tom picks up another line and hears you? What if Nathan doesn’t answer, isn’t home or is in the bathroom or something, and then he gets in, sees Tom’s number on his caller ID, calls back and asks who called him and why? Then Tom will know it was you, he’ll think Cindy gave you the number…

  Which she did. Not really, no, but she told you where to look, didn’t she? So don’t go doing anything to get her into trouble.

  No, he’d call tonight. Maybe he’d park his car down the street and walk to his apartment, just on the off chance that Roger drove by and saw it. And he’d have to keep out of the living room—those windows faced the street—but Roger wouldn’t call Tom’s place because he didn’t have the number. At least I hope he doesn’t. Wes didn’t think he did.

  The back door rattled and then Cindy knocked, making sure he was off the phone. He folded up the napkin with Nathan’s number on it and shoved it into his back pocket. I’ll call tonight.

  He couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 12

  Wes left Tom’s a little after three. “You go on,” Cindy told him, throwing her boyfriend an evil glare when he started to protest. “It’s your own fault this place is in shambles. What did I say?”

  “This is the last one, I know,” Tom muttered, but Wes wondered how long it would be before his friend’s puppy-dog eyes and little boy pout would win Cindy over for another party. He suspected it wouldn’t take much time at all.

  “I just have a few errands to run,” Wes lied. All he wanted to do was get back to his place, lie on the bed, and think about calling Nathan. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to talk himself into picking up the phone. He’s already called here asking about me, so it’s not like he’s going to hang up at the sound of my voice. I just need to tell him about Roger, that’s it. He needs to hear it from me.

  That would be the only reason he’d call…or rather, the only reason he’d let himself believe he’d call. He wouldn’t think about, or hope for, more.

  Heading for the door, he told his friends, “If I can make it back later, I will.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Cindy said.

  Behind Tom’s back, she winked. Wes wondered if she knew about the napkin shoved in the back pocket of his jeans. He thought maybe she did.

  At his apartment, Wes parked around the block, two streets down. Roger was scheduled to work until five but hadn’t he said he was going to try and get off early? Just becaus
e he wanted to go to a club didn’t mean he wouldn’t show up on Wes’s doorstep to coerce him into going out, as well. What if he’s already here?

  The thought made Wes stop in mid-stride. What if Roger is waiting for me? He could’ve hidden his car somehow, the same way Wes had—maybe he was inside the apartment building already, sitting on the top step of the landing and just waiting for Wes to walk through the door.

  What would Wes do then?

  Then you tell him you finished up early, a voice inside his head whispered. He was thankful for it, glad that some small part of him was calm, cool, and collected, because it sure had him fooled.

  He started forward again, heart hammering in his chest with each step that brought him closer to his apartment. You tell him you were going to call him and you say sure, you’ll go out to the clubs. It’s the middle of the afternoon and he’s been at work all day. He hasn’t been drinking yet.

  But the corridor was empty, and there was no one on the stairs. As Wes unlocked the door to his apartment, he kept glancing around, sure his boyfriend would materialize from the shadows like a sinister phantom to swoop down on him.

  He didn’t.

  Still, Wes didn’t allow himself to breathe again until the door was closed and latched behind him.

  At his feet the dog whimpered. “Hey there girl,” he murmured, bending down to rub her neck. “How you doing today?”

  She woofed in response. “I’ll take you out in a minute,” he promised, crossing the hall to the table where the phone sat. The answering machine blinked with a message, its red light like an accusing eye. It had to be Roger, Wes just knew it. With resignation, he pressed the PLAY button.

  “Hey babe, it’s just me.”

  Did Wes call that one or not? The sound of his boyfriend’s voice made the dog’s ears perk up and she barked, excited. Wes put a hand on her head to quiet her, but it didn’t work.

  “I’m sorry we got cut off earlier. You know how it goes.”

  Cut off, my ass. Wes clenched his hand in the dog’s fur. Roger had hung up on him. The bright voice on the machine seemed ignorant of that little fact. “Just call me back when you get this, okay? I’m not getting out of here until we close after all. Call me back.”

  It was that same voice, sober for once, carefree and so damn nice, that made Wes pick up the phone and dial half the numbers to the music store before he realized he had been going to call Nathan. He hung up and dug the napkin out of his back pocket, smoothed it out between his fingers, and read the numbers out loud beneath his breath. “Call me back,” he heard his boyfriend tell him, and he picked up the phone again. Roger could be so loving when it suited him.

  This time Wes dialed Nathan’s number.

  His mind was already working through an excuse for the next time he spoke to Roger. I’ll tell him I didn’t get the message until late. I stayed at Tom’s and didn’t get in until after five, and by then it was too late to call him back at work.

  The phone rang in his ear, once, twice. Another ring, that’s all he’d give it. Three and then he’d hang up. No, four. No—

  “Hello?”

  “Nathan,” Wes sighed. “Hey.”

  “Wes?” Nathan’s grin was evident in his voice. “Oh, shit, I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again. Did Tom give you my number?”

  Wes felt his cheeks heat up. “No, not really.”

  Nathan laughed, a wonderful sound that made Wes smile and twirl the phone cord between his fingers. His whole body heated up at that laugh, that voice. I thought I was over you but, God, I was so wrong.

  But a glance at the red light on the answering machine tamped down that smile. “Um, there’s something…” He sighed. This was going to be hard. “I have to tell you about—”

  “I know,” Nathan said, cutting him off. “Tom told me.”

  “I can explain,” Wes started.

  Nathan interrupted, “You don’t have to.”

  He fell silent, his breath soft through the receiver, and Wes wondered if that’s what he sounded like first thing in the morning, when he was still asleep and curled up into himself beneath the covers. You don’t need to be thinking about that.

  Nathan said, “So.”

  “So,” Wes echoed. Everything he thought he’d wanted to say had disappeared when Nathan said hello. “Cindy told me you called.”

  “Yeah,” Nathan sighed. “Tom hung up on me. So you’re really dating that guy?”

  “Yeah,” Wes mumbled. “His name’s Roger.”

  “Shit,” Nathan swore. “Does this mean I can’t see you again?”

  Wes closed his eyes. Do you have to make this so hard? “Nathan, I don’t think—”

  “Please,” Nathan said. “Just as friends, Wes, okay? Please?”

  When Wes didn’t reply, Nathan told him, “Last night was amazing. I know you don’t want to hear that but, God, I haven’t been with anyone who made me feel like that, not in a long time.”

  Wes felt his heart twist in his chest. Push in a little deeper; I’m not bleeding about this enough as it is.

  “When Tom told me, I couldn’t believe it. I was pissed, you know? Like why didn’t you tell me yourself?”

  “I was going to,” Wes said.

  Nathan hurried on. “I didn’t give you a chance. The minute I got you away from that party, I was all over you. I should’ve realized it. It was all my fault and I’m sorry.”

  How can you just shift the blame so easily, when I never once mentioned a boyfriend? When you asked me what I had been up to, I should’ve said something right there. How can you just gloss over that like it doesn’t matter?

  Maybe it didn’t matter, the fact that he was with Roger. Maybe Nathan really did just want to be friends.

  I don’t think I could handle that. I’d die a little each time I saw you or heard your voice.

  “So what’s the deal?” Nathan was saying. “You two live together or what? How’s this work?”

  “I have my own place,” Wes told him. “It’s downtown—”

  With another laugh, Nathan said, “Me, too!”

  Wes wondered how he could be so damn happy about this whole thing when he himself felt as if his heart would burst.

  “Hey,” Nathan said, as if inspired, “are you busy tonight? I mean, if he doesn’t mind…what’s his name again?”

  “Roger,” Wes whispered. “He—he’s at work.”

  “Would he get mad if we went out?” Nathan asked.

  God. Wes could just imagine Roger’s reaction if he even found out about this phone call, let alone an actual date…but it’s not a date, you already have a boyfriend. What did Nathan say? Just friends, that’s it.

  At Wes’s hesitation, Nathan hurried to explain, “I mean, I don’t know, maybe we can go out to dinner somewhere? My treat. It was so good seeing you again, Wes, you just don’t know.”

  Trust me, I do.

  With a sigh, Wes looked down at the dog, still at his heels. What the hell kind of sign are you waiting for? her big brown eyes asked, staring up at him. A freaking billboard? The guy you’ve always dreamed about is asking you out—tell him yes already!

  But what about Roger? What will he say?

  The dog had no answer for that.

  “Wes?” Nathan prompted. “You still there?”

  “Yeah.” Wes’s hands tingled, the hair along his nape prickled, and he’d never felt so spontaneous and reckless in his whole life as he did when he said it again. “Yeah, I’d love to. Tonight?”

  “How about right now?” Nathan countered. “I want to see you again. I have to. Are you far from Sandy’s Grill?”

  “I know where it is.” Wes hoped Nathan couldn’t hear the anticipation running beneath his words like an undercurrent, ready to drag him under and drown him if he let it. “You want to meet me there?”

  “Ten minutes?” Nathan didn’t even try to mask his own excitement. Wes could hear the jingle of keys and he wondered if Nathan wasn’t already halfway out the door.
<
br />   But he caught a whiff of bleach and grimaced. “Give me thirty,” he said, picking at his shirt. “I spent the morning helping Tom clean up. His place was wrecked. I need a shower…”

  “Damn,” Nathan murmured, his breath quickening. “What a nice image.”

  Wes blushed. “Thirty minutes, okay?”

  Nathan didn’t answer. He’s thinking about me naked in the shower…how the hell are we going to manage to stay just friends? Is that even what I want? “Nathan?”

  “Sure,” Nathan sighed, breathless. “I’ll see you there. I can’t wait.”

  Me either.

  Chapter 13

  As Nathan hung up the phone, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the plastic display on his stereo and frowned. Thank God Wes had given him thirty minutes…what the hell had he been thinking when he suggested they meet in just ten? Wearing this…how was he supposed to win that boy over if he went around looking as bad as Wes’s jerkoff boyfriend? What was his name again?

  Roger. The word slid over Nathan’s thoughts like oil over water. He hated that name.

  When he’d left Tom’s party the night before, Nathan’s mind had been a whirlwind of emotions, anger in the forefront. He drove around for hours trying to work everything out—finally he met a guy he liked and of course he was already taken. He couldn’t believe it.

  He wouldn’t.

  Twice he pulled into gas stations to use a pay phone—first to call Tom, but the party was still underway and no one answered the phone, even though he let it ring a dozen times. Then to see if he could find Wes in the phone book…maybe he could swing on by, just talk things out, hear him say he was with someone else. Maybe it’d seem more real then.

  But Wes’s number wasn’t listed and the operator was no help at all, so he slammed the phone down and got back into his car only to drive around until he could no longer keep his eyes open. He thought about it and thought about it—he could think of nothing else, and his body still hummed from those kisses, that touch. How could he just sweep that under the rug?