His Ex-Boyfriend Page 4

  Carl spoke into his cell phone. "I need a progress report, Kibble."

  "They've just finished loading the van with Mullerin's equipment, and we're heading your way," Rafe replied. "Hey, why does my codename have to be Kibble?"

  "Never mind, just report to base."

  Jason was too preoccupied to pay attention. He'd scarcely even noticed the fan who'd tried to tear the wristwatch off his arm. What if Amanda finds out I spent the rest of the evening after our set goofing off at the fair instead of heading home? I know she's worrying about whether to induce labor. I should head back. Nonetheless, Jason was reluctant to leave. The reason was close by, of course.

  Rafe, Lang, and Denny were just now returning. "Can we pretend we don't know Dinkel?" Sam asked his bandmate.

  "Afraid not. It's tempting, isn't it?"

  Denny was wearing a skirt and blouse. On top of his head was a baseball cap with an attached fall of Rapunzel-like blond hair, and he wore a large pair of glasses with a warty rubber nose. Somewhere inside lurked the hyperactive and athletic doofus who was Mullerin's most popular member.

  "Denny, that's such a clever disguise!” said Alexis. “You look like Carl."

  "I resent that," growled Carl. "I've never worn women's clothes outside the Special Forces."

  Everyone was wearing enough sunglasses to outfit the Yakuza. Even Mr. Bunny sported a rather spiffy pair of wraparounds. The rabbit was propped up on Alexis's shoulder, looking dangerous. The eyewear collection might ordinarily have drawn suspicious looks, but the day was bright and plenty of other fairgoers were wearing sunglasses, too.

  The last straggler arrived, dressed in a dragon T-shirt and jeans. Jason stole a look at his former boyfriend and caught Rafe returning it.

  "Do you have our ride passes?" Mellor asked Rafe. The singer's hands delved into the pockets of the student's jeans, leisurely feeling the contents of both sets. Rafe gave a nervous laugh as Alexis obviously touched something else.

  Jason bristled. It's been two years. I have a wife, I'm about to be a father, and I can't stand to see him touching my ex-boyfriend so possessively. FUCK!

  "Problem?" Carl asked. He sounded oddly sympathetic.

  "No," Jason replied, keeping his voice calm.

  Rafe glanced quickly at the guitarist.

  Was that guilt? It's not like he has to care about what I think. Dammit, I haven't gotten used to the notion that he belongs to--no, that's not it--that he's dating--fuck, get real, North--that he's living with and is in love with another man. He no longer cares about--

  Shit.

  “Will you two morons remember you're in a public place?” Lang snapped. Lang was a taller, paler, and cooler version of Rafe. He had never been happy about his brother's relationship with Alexis, mainly because he couldn't stand the singer. Lang had tolerated Rafe's brief affair with Jason somewhat better, though he'd told them they were idiots.

  “Carl?” Alexis said. “Look over there!” He was pointing at a nearby booth. It was a Western shooting gallery. Black-hatted, sneering bad guys danced all over the backboard, and the booth was lined with prizes. Row after row of tempting plushies dangled from plastic netting.

  Captivated, Alexis stared. "Carl? Mr. Bunny needs some friends!"

  Jason thought he'd never heard anything so sinister in his life. Sam was already sprinting for cover. Carl sighed, dropped a hundred-dollar bill on the counter, and took aim with the innocent-looking pop gun. Jason wasn't sure what happened next, except that it was loud, fast, and the whole thing reminded him of one of his crazier moments with Rafe. He'd also somehow ended up wedged next to Sam and Denny under the caramel corn vender's stall.

  "He's crazy," the drummer bitched to Jason. "Are you keeping track of this? One gone postal so far, and it's only the first hour!"

  When the shooting stopped, they found the booth's proprietor had fled. Carl tossed a conciliatory roll of cash into the proprietor's till, and a few deft slices of his hunting knife cut the plastic netting. He pulled the tumbling plushies out, and Rafe, who ventured too close, was buried.

  "Aw," Alexis cooed over the furry mass. "That's so sweet. Photo op everybody!"

  Alexis's behaving as if he thinks Rafe is just an extension of his animal collection. Boy, has their relationship ever changed.

  A better view of Rafe gave the guitarist more insight. His frazzled-looking ex, smothered in plushies, really was rather endearing. Jason brought out his camera phone and moved in. The string of pictures began with Rafe's flustered expression and ended with an obscene gesture filling Jason's viewfinder, plus a kick at the guitarist's arm. Lang smirked unpleasantly at his brother and lit a cigarette.

  "Naughty, naughty," Alexis chided, clicking away with his own camera. "Oh, that's perfect! That little gray elephant wedged under your chin is just right."

  After a baleful look at them, Rafe scowled upwards. "Hey, you,” he said to Carl. “I am a pacifist who objects to the wanton firing of weapons."

  "Shut up and enjoy the plushies, kid," Carl retorted.

  Pacifist? thought Jason. Then what was with that sword you were waving at me the other day? Irritated, the guitarist flipped through camera images for the most outstandingly bad one, and held it up for Rafe to see.

  "I'll bet that elephant likes having his trunk suckled," Alexis commented. "You're suggestive even when you're not trying. You know, maybe I should rent a real elephant. No, a whole herd of elephants, just to play with you, Rafe."

  Rafe's eyes went round with alarm.

  It seems there are disadvantages to being the lover of a man who really can get everything he wants, thought Jason.

  "Gather the plushies!" Alexis commanded. "Everyone take a few before they get their fur dirty."

  Jason held out a hand. Rafe grabbed it, and the guitarist pulled him up. Together they watched Carl, Sam, and Denny run in circles, scrambling to retrieve plushies under Alexis's direction. Only Lang ignored the command, glaring contemptuously at the frenetic activity over his sunglasses.

  Rafe looked at Jason. Jason eyed him back.

  As one, they abandoned their companions and walked off towards the nearest bar.

  "What'll you have?" the waiter asked.

  Rafe's head was buried in his arms, almost hidden behind the propped-up menu. "Something with plenty of fruit juices and alcohol. I don't know. Just pick anything."

  Jason shrugged at the waiter and quietly pointed at a pair of nonalcoholic drinks on the menu. Then he noticed his bandmates out the window. Mellor was yelling, "Head for the whirling teacups!" The little group straggled over to the nearby ride. Sam, who'd found a baby buggy somewhere for the plushies, stood guard over them while Alexis urged Lang onto the teacup ride with Denny. A malicious glint was in Mellor's eye.

  "C'mon, Lang," Denny urged from his seat. Leeland ignored them. He appeared to be birdwatching. "Lang?" Denny called out, puzzled.

  "So,” said Jason, directing his attention back to Rafe. “How's life with Alexis?"

  "I know what you're thinking," the heap of arms replied. "You're thinking that I've fucked up and landed the craziest guy on the planet. Right?"

  Jason tried to say something comforting, then realized he couldn't. Alexis was one of the craziest guys on the planet. Time for a little social lie. "No."

  Rafe lifted his head. "Honestly?"

  "Denny's the craziest guy on the planet."

  "Oh, pbbbbt!" Rafe's head fell back into his arms again. "That's just wonderful, North."

  "Hey, it's not Mellor running around in a skirt and rubber nose today. That's my old buddy, Dinkel.” Jason looked out the window again. “Why won't Lang get on?”

  “It's the family inner ear problem. I have it, too. I wouldn't get on a ride like that for any money.”

  "Everyone knows you're a coward when it comes to kiddie rides,” Denny was saying to his bass player. “I dare you. In fact, I dare you to eat a hot dog while you're spinning. I want that hot dog loaded with all the relishes and sauces it can handle. Lexi!
Can you help? The ride's about to start."

  "I'll buy the hot dog for him," Alexis replied. "There's a vendor just across the way."

  "Hold on," Lang interrupted. "What about you? You're not getting off unscathed, Dinkel. I dare you to go through it with a triple scoop of ice cream, in a regular cone, not a waffle cone, either. I'm dying to see the result."

  Shortly after, Alexis came hurrying back with the food. The faces of the two combatants became scrunched with alarm. The hot dog was a gruesome affair, smothered in soggy chili and onions, bright yellow mustard, lurid green relish, and tawny ketchup. Even from this distance, Jason could see Lang swallow hard.

  “The stupid bastard,” Rafe muttered. “He ought to know you never let Alexis talk you into anything.”

  In Mellor's other hand was the ice cream. "Sorry, Denny,” Alexis said. “I dropped one of the scoops on the ground, but I put it back on!" he announced proudly.

  "What?!" Denny squawked.

  "You have to eat it. You took the dare," Lang insisted, grinning.

  Alexis gazed mournfully at the cone. "It was the durian scoop that fell off, but I scraped the dirt away, I promise!"

  "Durian? What kind of friggin' flavors did you buy?"

  "Durian, tamarind, and red bean. I thought they sounded good," Alexis replied defensively.

  Rafe made a gagging noise by Jason's ear. “I don't believe this.”

  Leeland was smirking. "Ready to give up, Dinkel?"

  "Fuck, no. Mount the teacup, asshole."

  Grimly, they faced off like duelists, junk food in hand. The rest of the group took several protective steps back from the railing.

  "This is going to be brutal," said Jason.

  "Hey, they challenged each other," Rafe replied. "It's their own downfall."

  “Is Alexis doing this out of spite?” The Boxkite singer appeared to be enjoying himself a little too much.

  “God knows.”

  "Did you see that hot dog?” they heard Alexis say to Carl. “It looked so good. I'm buying one for myself."

  The ride started, the teacup running around its track in a slow circle. Leeland began to snap bites along the length of his hot dog. If he'd been more sensible, he might have rethought the wisdom of this tactic. Denny, meanwhile, was already having trouble. The ball of melting durian began to slide off-center, threatening to take a wet plop into his lap. Denny tried to take a bite, balked at a well-trod cigarette butt clinging to the scoop, and then the teacup spun like a centrifuge. Denny slid along the vinyl seat until he smacked into Lang, spattering ice cream in the bassist's face and spilling the entire mess down his shirt.

  "You motherfucker! You're dead meat!" Lang was inching madly around the seat, trying to slug his singer.

  "Hey, I was going to drop it by accident on you anyway, so I just gave in to the inevitable. Of course, you can't see it from my perspective."

  Before anything else could happen, the teacup began a series of whirls that left both men bent over and groaning into their handrails. Then the ride came to an abrupt halt. With an aged tremor, Lang staggered out of his seat and quivered his way over to a trash barrel. He clasped it between both hands.

  "Is something wrong?" Alexis asked innocently. The singer had appeared on the other side of the barrel, chewing his way through his own hot dog.

  Lang blinked. A soggy mountain of puke-colored chili was soaking the white paper frill before his eyes. "You BASTARD," he howled, knocking the barrel over as he tried to bat the loathsome object away. Nature took its course, and Lang began to overflow with a generous cornucopia of ex-hot dog.

  "Photo opportunity everybody!" crowed Alexis.

  “Fucking goddamn. Dinkel, you traitorous swine, get me to a taxi.”

  Watching from the bar, Rafe said. “You're right. Lexi's being a prick.”

  Jason shook his head. “It doesn't help that his victims are cooperating with him. Lang's usually more sensible.”

  The waiter slid a pair of drinks onto their table, and Rafe groaned at the sight of his. "Everything in this place reminds me of him. Even this damn drink!"

  "What?"

  "It's a Lexi drink. Three slices of fruit skewered by a plastic sword and a paper umbrella. Lexi would cry if they didn't give him umbrellas with his drinks."

  Rafe's cell rang, causing him to spill some of his drink.

  "Rafe? Where'd you wander off to?” It was Alexis's voice.

  The student cut the connection without replying. "I hate it when Lexi thinks he needs to keep tabs on me. I know he's just worried, but life with a famous musician can really, really suck. His hassles always become my hassles."

  Jason was surprised. "Then why do you put up with it?"

  Rafe smiled wryly. "I'm addicted. Living with him can be like a shove out an airplane with no parachute. I'm a Leeland, and I love my thrills, the same as Lang. You ought to know that."

  Awkwardly, Jason glanced away. Yes, I do know that.

  "When Lexi's in one of his Mr. Bunny moods, he's adorable. But occasionally, I--fuck, I don't know what the problem is."

  "What's this?" Jason asked, noticing something around Rafe's neck. Before the guitarist could stop himself, he'd lifted a chain out from behind Rafe's collar and was holding it in his hand, still warm from the student's body. It was a little silver leaf.

  "That? Lexi gave it to me soon after we first met. It was his first gift. We were in this leather store and he offered to buy me something, and I picked out this necklace. Lexi said, 'That must be the cheapest item in this entire place,' but I insisted it was what I wanted. Things were sort of unsettled between us, and I wasn't sure what I meant to him at that point, whether we could be considered lovers or not. Well, Lexi just looked at me and said, 'You're not a burden to me, Rafe. Don't consider yourself to be one.' And he kissed me on the lips, slowly, right there in front of all those watching clerks. I reminded him we had an audience, but he only smiled in his evil way and said, 'Don't worry. If they talk to the tabloids, I'll just sue them.'"

  "One of the benefits to having money," said Jason philosophically.

  Rafe nodded. “That was our first kiss, too." His eyes dropped to the tabletop. "We'd done everything except that, in those two weeks."

  The guitarist gave a slight start. I had two weeks in which I could have won him back? But I didn't--he didn't--we--

  Aw, fuck. Alexis won because he put aside his selfishness and immaturity long enough to show Rafe he was capable of love. It's that simple. I couldn't, so I lost.

  "Anyway, Lexi made me promise never to take the necklace off, and I swore I wouldn't."

  "Like a slave bracelet?" Jason was finding self-revelation hard on the nerves.

  Rafe made a moue at him. "No. I could take it off if I wanted to."

  The guitarist turned the leaf over, examining its silver reflections with suspicion. "What are these marks?"

  "Um, ah--those are from Lexi's teeth." Rafe turned red.

  Vividly, a horrible picture entered Jason's mind. Mellor's wet tongue crawling over Rafe's chest, leaving slimy trails, stopping to scoop up the leaf with a snap of teeth. Suddenly, a flash of silver in Mellor's mouth as the teeth bite down hard, denting metal as the orgasm detonates.

  Jason felt sick. He wanted to crush the frail-looking leaf in his fist.

  An index finger was sliding a pair of sunglasses down, exposing two irises that had been giddy and smiling all day. They were now like small, cold brown stones. This flatness of emotion was rare and often dangerous. Alexis was watching the two young men through the bar's windows. Gradually, the brown stones began to glisten like they were resting in the bottom of a running stream.

  "Lexi?"

  "Shut up, Carl." Quickly, Mellor slid his sunglasses back into position. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

  “I understand.” Carl put a hand on Alexis's shoulder. They stared for a long moment. "Cozy," the manager finally said.

  "Mmm," Alexis agreed. The singer's voice was distant and cool behind h
is sunglasses. "If I weren't involved, this might be a sweet little romance to nurture. I could even play benevolent godfather to them. But Rafe claims their previous affair was bloody murderous--not a good portent for a second one--and then there is this business of me. Alexis Mellor is not a third wheel in love affairs, and he does not lose to rivals."

  "What about that concert?"

  "Which one?"

  "The day you met Rafe." Not many men would have dared remind Mellor, but Carl was fearless.

  Alexis made a tiny noise of acknowledgment. "Ah, yes. I did lose to Mullerin--once. It was galling, but I also won Rafe that day. The trade was fair. I didn't score off North intentionally--I didn't know he was Rafe's boyfriend at the time--though it was a fitting revenge. Jason North may not realize it, but he is better off married to his wife, and Rafe is better off with me. Carl?"

  "Yes?"

  "Do you think North is merely bored?"

  Carl shrugged and made a face, as if Alexis had said something that pained him. "Guys don't join rock bands because they like dullness, and I don't think he's well-matched with Amanda. She's boring and conventional."

  “Carl!”

  “It's true. I think their breakup is inevitable, and Jason doesn't have a clue who would be good for him. He craves excitement, so he would be best paired with someone who's strong, but he's too blind to look around.”

  Just then, they saw Jason fondling the silver necklace. Mellor cursed and lost his composure. "Get your fucking hands off that leaf," the singer said under his breath. He let out a jarring laugh. "All right. That's enough." He stepped up to the windows of the restaurant and signaled to Rafe with a wave of his hand. Catching the motion, Rafe rose abruptly and left with an apologetic nod to Jason.

  What? thought Jason. Just one crook of a finger, and Rafe leaps to obey? He never did that for me. The old hunger was building again, gnawing at his self-control as much as it did his crotch. It was always great, unless he threw me out of bed at the end. God, I've slid face-first into his closet so many times I've lost count. Then I'd have that shitty moral hangover with my face in his tennis shoes. I have to stop looking at him. I have no chance.