His Ex-Boyfriend Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright and Credits

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  His Ex-Boyfriend

  by

  Avis Black

  Copyright © 2012 by Avis Black

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Cover photo by kalletralla

  Cover Design by The Slash Press

  More books at superiorz.org

  Also by Avis Black: How Julian and Nigel Turned Each Other Gay (Inadvertently), or So They Both Claim

  Chapter 1

  At the end of the recording session that day at Boxkite Studios, Carl Kilburn walked into the room holding out a slightly soiled pink shape. It dangled from his fist by the ears. "Attention! Hey, where is everybody?” Kilburn asked. All he could see was a young man in a motorcycle jacket, jeans, and boots.

  Jason North, the lead guitarist for Mullerin, muted his guitar strings with a palm and pulled off his headphones. He greeted his manager with a smile, an expression that faded when he saw what Carl was holding. “Lang and Sam have gone home. You missed them by about ten minutes. Denny's in a meeting with Malcolm.” Malcolm Hyde was the head of Boxkite Records, and he'd worn a rather livid expression when he'd stopped by the studio to summon Denny to his office, but that was not unusual.

  "What is this?" Carl asked, still holding out the stuffed animal.

  "Your question is rhetorical, y'know.” Jason stepped on a pedal box to add some fuzztone. He turned the volume up, trying to drown out what he knew would be coming next.

  “I require an explanation.”

  Jason sighed. When his manager wore that particular expression, the guitarist knew he wasn't going to like the sequel. "That is Mr. Bunny-who-belongs-to-Alexis-Mellor-who-is-your-old-client, sir!" he added cheekily.

  "Good. And where is Alexis?"

  "Damned if I know, fuck if I care. Carl, you're having a flashback to your army days and it's distasteful."

  "I don't have flashbacks. I never left the mindset. All right. It's common knowledge that Mellor cannot survive long without his lapin-life support system, and we don't want a dead Alexis, do we?"

  Jason grinned. “Why not? He's Mullerin's rival.”

  “Hey.”

  “Okay! Greatest singer ever, old friend of yours, blah blah blah. What of it?”

  "Someone needs to return this rabbit to its owner."

  "Why don't you do it?" Jason asked, irritated. He unplugged his guitar with a jerk.

  "Board meeting with Malcolm, beginning in two minutes, that's why."

  “Ask Denny. He worships Mellor.”

  The gleam in Carl's eye brightened. “His car is impounded. What remains of it.”

  Jason paused. “What happened?”

  “You know the muffler he was dragging? Taking his car to the repair shop himself because he was too stupid to call a tow truck and because he thought leaving a trail of sparks behind himself was kind of funny?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He decided to stop for gas on the way.”

  “Oh no,” said Jason, his eyes widening.

  “Worse. He drove away from the pump without unhooking the hose.”

  “Shit! What happened?”

  “The Mustang is carbon, but Dinkel threw himself out the door just in time. God looks after morons like the Dinkster, though it must be a full-time job for the Deity. I presume he hasn't told you because even an idiot is capable of feeling embarrassment.”

  “Damn. He didn't say anything at all.” Jason was rather fond of Denny, though Mullerin's lead singer was an utter lunatic.

  “I'm sure you'll get the story later. Anyway, about this rabbit.”

  Jason turned away to hide his face, staring at the acoustic tiles as he unslung his guitar. “Why don't you let Denny borrow your car?” He ignored his manager's scornful snort and continued doggedly, “You'll be running into him at the meeting, won't you? Malcolm's chewing him out, right?”

  “Not possible. The Dinkster lost his license, too. The station owner was pretty pissed and so were the cops. Now, I noticed you rode your 'cycle here.”

  Jason quickly bent over his guitar case.

  "Ahem." Carl cleared his throat.

  Something inaudible came from Jason. It might have been, 'No fucking way.'

  "What was that?"

  The guitarist repeated himself, and it was indeed, "No fucking way," said with an unusual amount of vehemence. Jason straightened and coiled his guitar strap around his fingers, glowering at the leather. He focused on its inked symbols, drawn by the long-ago pen of one Rafael Leeland, and dropped the strap as if it had stung him.

  Carl stared. "What's the problem?”

  Jason mumbled something.

  "What was that? Alexis's apartment? What's the matter with his apartment?"

  The guitarist said nothing.

  "If it's not Lexi, or the bunny, then it has to be Rafe. So it's true, then?”

  “What's true?”

  Carl hesitated, a silence that was as loud as a gong in Jason's ears. “You really did have an affair with him?" the manager asked. Carl and Mr. Bunny exchanged incredulous looks. At another time, Jason would have laughed at the sight of the blond man with the boxer's build staring wide-eyed at the pink plushie, but he was too busy fumbling his guitar. To his disgust, it landed across the crimson plush lining of his instrument case with a noise like a hurdy-gurdy.

  “What kind of bullshit is that?" Jason replied, his voice a nervous jitter.

  "Red face, can't meet my eyes. It is true. Look, you coward, just open the door, hand whomever the rabbit, and run like hell. An ex-boyfriend you don't want to face is no excuse."

  Jason didn't move.

  "Or," Carl continued, "I'll tell Amanda about your old flame."

  The guitarist grabbed Mr. Bunny by the neck and fled the studio. Carl did have his little ways.

  Chapter 2

  Jason was praying hard as he knocked on Alexis's apartment door. Please, God. Let it be Alexis. Oh, please, please, pretty please.

  The door opened to a dark interior, and the smell of cigarette smoke rolled out.

  No! Alexis doesn't smoke! I'll just--

  "Hello," Rafe Leeland answered around his cigarette. "Long time no see."

  Jason stared, holding Mr. Bunny in numb fingers. Rafe was wearing black trousers, worn leather sandals, and a sleeveless black shirt. A silver leaf dangled from a chain around his neck. He removed his cigarette and stubbed it out, then shook his jagged black hair out of his eyes as if he too, wanted a good look.

  "You brought Mr. Bunny! Did Lexi forget him? Come in and have a beer. I was just making some popcorn."

  Jason's mouth was open. The other's tone was casual, perfectly friendly. No screaming threat, or you-dumped-me-and-I'm-going-to-kill-you. Rafe shut the door behind the guitarist, and Jason came to himself.

  "Poor Mr. Bunny," said Rafe, plucking the rabbit from Jason's arms and giving it a toss and a catch. "Left behind in the Boxkite Studios lunchroom. Bunny-hug!" The college student squeezed the rabbit to his chest, then carefully set the
stuffed animal down on a chair.

  Bunny-hug? Jason was flabbergasted.

  "Carl called to say you were stopping by."

  I dumped him, Jason thought in confusion. I left him for Amanda, and he doesn't sound mad. But he has Alexis now. I guess he got over me quickly enough.

  Following his host, the guitarist was distracted by the sight of a samurai sword. It hung on the wall opposite, dangling from a cord of twisted red silk. It was the last thing he saw before he lost his balance. He saw the skateboard shooting out from under his foot, hitting the wall with a boom. The impact jolted the sword off the wall as Jason landed on his back, the sword flying end over end towards his face. The pommel struck his chin with a blow like a punch, and for a long moment he lay in a daze. Cold steel was biting his neck from an unsheathed blade, pricking him repeatedly.

  "Oh, shit! Lexi left his skateboard out again! Are you all right?" Rafe was kneeling by him, lifting the sword aside. A fingertip stroked Jason's neck near the cut.

  "I'm fine," the guitarist insisted.

  "What a friggin' weird accident," said Rafe in wonder. He pulled the guitarist to his feet, and Jason swayed, focusing on the sword. It was a curved, tachi-style weapon with a braided grip in a diamond pattern. Gold bands decorated its steel sheath.

  An awkward silence fell. Rafe looked at him through his dark hair. "I could have identified you just from your hand. You've got these huge, hard, guitarist's callouses." Slowly, he rubbed his palm.

  The gesture roused a memory in Jason. Frustrated with everything, sessions that didn't work, too much touring, moronic interviews, then coming home to explode all over Rafe. The smackdown, the fuck-punch, bursting inside him like a ripped jugular. I loved it insanely. No wonder Alexis is so possessive, if he feels like I did. I could have fucked Rafe forever. Jason swallowed. The memories were too vivid, too arousing. Shit! Get out of here. What's next? Oh, yeah, you're welcome and I need to be going.

  Then he noticed the skateboard. "WHAT? What the hell? I don't believe it." The guitarist laughed a little. It was a Mullerin skateboard. There was his own face grinning up at him out of lime-green plastic. The band members had their arms around each other's shoulders.

  "It's Lexi's. Just a sec." Rafe shoved the skateboard with a foot, sending it racing into another room.

  "I didn't know we marketed skateboards," Jason mused. He reflected about the symbolism of stepping on his own face. Then he wondered about the symbolism of Alexis stepping on his own face. Does Alexis know? We tried to keep our affair secret at the time, but has Rafe told him?

  The guitarist woke from his thoughts. "What is this place, a toyshop?" Jason had never seen Alexis's penthouse before and felt a nauseated awe. He could understand the stray musical instruments resting on couches like pampered housepets, but why would anyone need booth-sized arcade games, or a row of gumball machines? Or an entire soda fountain? Or scores of remote controlled dinosaurs, airplanes, helicopters, and robots?

  "The rockstar compost-pile-decor is a bit much," Rafe admitted. "It took me a long time to get used to it. It's hard to study here with all the distractions, and I keep having to sneak off to the university library. I have no idea why he has this, for example." Rafe picked up the sword and unsheathed it.

  Jason fingered the stinging cut on his neck. Rafe jumped on top of the coffee table and lifted the blade with both hands, staring at it intently. "This sword is so sharp it could cut water in two, and it would stay that way." He slashed the blade at a mosquito, and the tiny insect fluttered to the floor, broken.

  “Don't be so theatrical.” Jason's stomach twisted inside him.

  The sword whipped through the air right by the guitarist's head.

  "Dammit! Stop that."

  "Theatrical? I'm not being theatrical. I just love obvious phallic symbols." Rafe ran a fingertip down the flat of the blade while smiling evilly at Jason. "I've learned some ken-jutsu recently. Look down."

  Jason did. A few strands of long brown hair were lying on the floor--his own. "Shit!" said the guitarist, grabbing at his hair and leaping backwards. "Would you stop acting like one of the cheap extras in 'Kill Bill'?"

  Rafe's sword froze in midair, and he looked at Jason with lowered eyelids. "That was a movie about romantic betrayal--and revenge, wasn't it?"

  Jason stopped moving, wishing he'd said nothing. The guitarist's stomach clenched. He was afraid. He'd actually become afraid of Rafe. “Hey, didn't you offer me a beer?” he replied, trying to keep his voice calm.

  The other reddened. "Um, oh yeah. I offered you popcorn, too. Thanks for bringing Mr. Bunny back. Wait a sec. I have to see to Mr. Bunny. Grab yourself a beer out of the fridge behind the counter."

  Jason was about to utter a polite refusal and leave, when Rafe sat down on the floor with Mr. Bunny in his lap. Curious, the guitarist lingered.

  "Could you open that door? No, the one next to the TV. Yeah."

  Jason did so and gave a start of surprise. "Doll clothes?"

  "Those are Mr. Bunny's outfits. Get the one that's hanging on the top rack at the very left."

  "Holy Moses, there are six racks of them in here." Mr. Bunny, it seemed, was a clotheshorse instead of a rabbit. A little shaken by this too-intimate glimpse into the rabbit's boudoir, he handed the outfit to Rafe.

  "Thanks," Rafe said. He paused a moment to light another cigarette, then tugged Mr. Bunny's ears through the neck hole of the middy blouse. He even parked his cigarette in the corner of his mouth so he wouldn't drop ashes on Mr. Bunny's pink pelt.

  Jason stared. There were a few things in life he never thought he'd witness. The end of the world, for one. Rafe putting a Sailor Moon outfit on a stuffed rabbit was another. He moved closer. Rafe stopped. The student's gaze traveled slowly up Jason's legs and torso, settling on the patronizing grin. "What are you looking at?" Rafe snapped.

  "You."

  "So? There's nothing to stare at. I'm just putting clothes on Mr. Bunny."

  "Someone's testosterone taking a vacation?"

  Rafe snatched the cigarette from his lips. "What the fuck are you talking about? I'm just getting Mr. Bunny presentable so Lexi won't freak out when he returns. That's all it is."

  "Uh-huh," Jason replied, still smiling. "Aw, look at the pwetty blouse. You need to knot his widdle tie."

  "Shut up, you fucker." Rafe glared. Politely, Jason averted his head while Rafe gave the rabbit a tiny four-in-hand knot.

  "All done?" Jason inquired archly.

  "Yeah."

  The guitarist hopped aside, partially to give the other room to rise, partially because Rafe kicked him hard in the shins. Jason burst out laughing.

  "Asshole," the student growled.

  "Cross-dresser of rabbits," Jason retorted with a smile.

  Rafe took a long drag from his cigarette. "Mr. Bunny is a very liberated rabbit. I suppose I still owe a jerk like you a drink and some popcorn for finding him. Come on over to the soda fountain."

  I swear, Alexis has damaged his brain. It's amazing what Mellor can do to people. Rafe used to be mean. Granted, it was sexy-mean, and he's still sexy, but now he seems to be--

  A pang went through the guitarist, and he couldn't finish the thought. What the hell is wrong with me? Do I have an unexpected hot-guy-puts-doll-clothes-on-stuffed-rabbit-fetish? Am I really that weird? No, I would be drooling over Alexis if I did. It's just Rafe who's having that effect on me--

  --again.

  "Jason?" Rafe waved a hand in front of the guitarist, breaking the reverie.

  "Oh yeah, sure." The guitarist sat on one of the stools of the soda fountain while Rafe stationed himself on the other side. "Want a root beer float? The latter's a specialty of mine."

  "Just a beer, thanks." Jason almost requested the float, but after the fall, the sword, and not the least Mr. Bunny, he needed something stronger.

  Rafe cracked open the top of a can before sliding it across. Then he measured a cup of hard yellow kernels into the pan of a commercial-style popcorn wagon.
"Alexis thinks microwaving a bag is too plebeian,” he explained.

  “Do you eat here at the counter?"

  "We do that out on the balcony. You wouldn't believe all the pigeons that land to watch us eat. They'll just stare and stare, moving their feet and tilting their heads, giving our scraps these wistful looks. Of course you know how Lexi is about animals. They'll blackmail him into stuffing their gizzards with a crate of fruit." Rafe broke off as the popcorn wagon began to produce a foamy waterfall.

  The beer tasted flat on Jason's tongue. He pictured Rafe and Alexis laughing together on the balcony as they fed the birds. No. I have no business being miserable because Rafe and Alexis are happy. Happiness is not a winner-take-all game. I won, too. I have Amanda. Anyway, I don't think I could survive another affair like that. But he was so good-looking it made me stupid.

  Rafe filled a bowl with hot popcorn and held it out. Jason reached for a handful, then hesitated. There was something suggestive in Rafe's manner. Wasn't there some obscure social rule that went, 'Thou shalt not eat the popcorn of an ex-boyfriend, unless thee wishes to end up in said ex-boyfriend's bed?' He remembered the first time Rafe had offered him a beer.

  Dropping by Lang's apartment, but finding only his younger brother, Rafe. Heavy metal on the stereo, the bass so loud the walls were shaking. Drinking can after can of beer on the couch and having a contest of throwing the empties at Lang's potted palm. Rafe's leg crossed over one of Jason's and Jason not minding, that leg swinging to the music, arousingly close. Jason's final toss decapitating the poor plant. Rafe saying, you win, here's your reward. And Jason, drunk as hell, trying to rub one last ounce of sobriety into his face as he sprawled along the couch, feeling a rush of cool air below his waist that made his hairs prickle. The shock of warm wetness along his cock, the moving tongue lifting him to full erection. He'd grabbed Rafe's head and stood, forcing Rafe's head backwards all the way down to the couch cushions, swaying to the harsh beat as he shoved himself violently down Rafe's throat, rocking in and out of the sweet moisture, exultant in the aggressiveness of it, knowing that neither of them cared for anything except for a crude, fast, guiltless getting off.