City of Angels Ch. 02

His mother was standing in front of the coffee-maker and Evan came up behind her. He could see that she had been crying again.

"Mom, don't worry so much. It sounds like a routine thing. He'll be in good hands."

His mother clenched the counter, trying to get control of herself.

"But what if something goes wrong, or they find something worse? Evan, I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him. I just don't know what I'd do."

Evan wrapped his arms around her from behind, feeling closer to her than he ever had. "Shh. You're making yourself crazy."

Before he even realized what he was saying, he whispered, "Daddy will be fine."

His mother laughed, and turned around. "I haven't heard that in a long time. Not since you were little."

Evan had turned beet red. "Just don't let him know."

"I don't know why things got so bad between you."

"I was just thinking the same thing, actually. And I'm not sure, either. You know he can be an asshole sometimes."

"Yes, he can. Even I admit it. But it seemed to come along so suddenly with you, right when you turned 15."

"I don't know, Mom. High school was pretty rough for me."

"Oh! Speaking of which—" she said, going back to the coffee, "Guess who I saw the other day?"

"Hmmm . . . I have no idea?"

"Chad Hanson. Right down the street."

Evan was flabbergasted. "Chad? You saw Chad? Here?"

"Yes. I stopped and talked to him."

"But—" Evan's first thought was to be extremely offended that Chad hadn't called or told him he was in town. "He's here?"

"Yes, he's moved back to LA. I think he's. . . what did he say . . . teaching, I think. Or wait, coaching. At some university."

"No kidding. Wow. Really? And what, he moved in back home?"

"Oh just for a little while, till he finds a place."

Evan truly could not believe it. He thought for a minute of calling him or even just walking down the street, but his resentment stopped him from doing it.

"All right, well I'm going to bed. You going to be ok? I'll help you tomorrow with the insurance forms."

"Thank you, Evan. I'm really glad you're here. You don't mind sleeping in your old room?"

Evan laughed. "No . . . I can manage."

Lying in his bed, Evan felt the quiet of the house close in on him like a tomb. He wondered what Craig was doing for a minute—probably at his party, meeting men. Thinking about him in this place was truly surreal.

For the millionenth time, Evan whispered to himself, "I'm a gay man." But the words fell flat, as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the room to support the thought bubble over his head. They were as dry and useless as wood shavings, conveying nothing important. Here he was in his old room, his old bed. What had been going on in his mind all those years? Where had he been? Evan knew he hadn't just "turned gay" overnight. No. Getting a stiff throbbing cock down his throat had been challenging physically, but not mentally. It had only felt like coming home.

Being with Craig he knew without a doubt he was only uncovering desires that had somehow always been there, but entirely hidden from him, for 30 years, or however long it was when he first became a sexual being. It had to. But where had they been? Who had he been?

His past was a puzzle. He lay in bed picking it over, looking for pieces that didn't fit together. For the first time, he wondered if maybe his anger at his father, his sudden hatred of him, had something to do with it. It was an anomaly, something strange that didn't fit in with how things should have been. Even now, lying in this bed, he could so easily conjure the anger, confusion and frustration of his teenaged years. Perhaps those feelings had found an outlet in hating his father? His dad was a convenient target—there was plenty to dislike. But nothing as extreme as the passion he had felt.

Evan resolved to spend more time here in the future. He had a feeling the answers to the questions of his life lay in his past, not in, say—West Hollywood. He had absolutely no desire to jump into the gay culture of LA. None at all. Craig was enough. His relationship with him was all the contact he needed or wanted.

But where would he be without him? The thought was frightening. What if he'd never met him? Equally frightening. He reached down to gently touch his balls and absently stroke himself until he finally fell asleep, to dream once again of his lover.

+++

At the same moment, Craig was working a room in a house in Laurel Canyon. The mansion in the hills was worlds away from Evan. It was an architectural wonder nestled on a cliff overlooking the city. Glass walls gave onto a spectacular three-dimensional view. The most delectable, unbelievable cuisine from the best chefs in LA floated by on the arms of the most gorgeous aspiring starlets in the city. Priceless artwork lined the walls. Women were dressed in designer gowns, the men in tuxes.

Craig was in his element, making deals with and among the most powerful men, and occasional woman, in the movie business. He went from studio heads to producers to agents, extracting promises, scheduling meetings, cajoling and flattering and charming and saying whatever was necessary to keep his deal in motion.

Sharon stood by chatting with someone she knew and watching her brother. Even in a room full of beautiful people, he stood out, and Sharon got a kick out of watching how many eyes followed him around the room. Men, women, old, young, single, married, it didn't matter. And he did look good tonight—because she could tell he was happier than she had seen him in a long time.

One man in particular caught her eye. He'd been watching Craig intently from the minute they got in.

He stood out from the crowd because he wasn't wearing a tux. He had arrived in jeans and a vest over a casual plain t-shirt. He had a shaved head and tattoos and the most amazingly cut, defined body. He was handsome, in a hyper-masculine way that made Sharon shrink up inside herself. She didn't like him, and he was cruising her brother like a predatory shark.

Her heart sunk when she saw the bald man follow Craig when he strolled outside onto the lanai where there were fewer people. But soon they were both lost from her view.

Outside, Craig was checking his phone for a text from Evan. Not seeing one, he slid it back in his pocket and stood taking a breather and thinking. He inhaled deeply the woody scents from the canyon, preferring this wild expanse of live oak and sycamore to the clouds of perfume inside.

Tonight had been very strange. These were his friends, this was his crowd, this was the very reason he'd gotten into this business. He was doing what he's always wanted to do. And yet for the first time ever, he felt . . . bored, and exhausted with the effort of being himself. He was not at home in his own body. For the first time, he felt like he was just playing a role, and that nobody here had any clue who he actually was. A disturbing thought erupted within his unconscious. A second pair of eyes was watching his behavior and not liking it. It was whispering to him that these people were assholes. That there was something completely shallow and fake about all of it. He became shallow and fake moving among them. It was all about money, nothing more. Money and power. Why was he here?

Thinking about Evan in this environment was unreal. It didn't "fit." He didn't fit anymore. Not in the way he was used to fitting in. It was the first time in his life he had ever really asked or wondered, who am I?

Just then he heard a man next to him clearing his throat.

"Hey Craig."

Craig whipped around at the familiar voice.

He was leaning against the railing close to him, looking sexy as hell in tight jeans and a t-shirt. Jason.

Craig looked at him, startled for a second, as if he'd seen a ghost. How long had he been there? He felt like he'd been caught doing something extremely shameful, as if he'd been caught masturbating.

He couldn't help his instantaneous reaction to seeing his ex-lover. He found himself stuttering. "Wh. . . what are you doing here?"

He could not stop his eyes from automatically roaming over Jason's body. He had this way of dressing and being that made him achingly attractive to Craig, and Jason well knew it. Jason shifted his body so his huge bulge was purposefully thrust between them. He'd always known how to use Craig's lust for him like a whip over his head.

"Oh, I have this script I'm shopping around."

Jason was a successful screenwriter, and moved in the same circles as Craig. It was how he'd initially met him. His success and status had always been a part of Craig's attraction to him. Jason liked to downplay his being part of the Hollywood scene, pretending that it was entirely beneath him, but at the same time never letting anyone forget how much he towered over them. He seemed to exist in this alluring, rarified world of total confidence and self-assuredness. It awed Craig and drew him to him like a moth to a flame, wanting to be part of it.

Craig noticed Jason taking in his tux.

"Working tonight?"

Against his will, Craig felt himself sliding back into his slavish, obsequious relation to Jason. Standing there so sexy, so arrogant, so entirely above it all, he epitomized the very thing Craig seemed to be chasing with his chosen profession. His insight that it was all a meaningless game seemed to fly out the window. It was the same kind of hold that he had over him sexually. Jason was the ideal man, the catch. The one man in a world of gay men he could never really have, who knew something about homosexuality even Craig didn't know. In the circle of his power, he found his thoughts of Evan fading.

Of course, Craig thought, Jason would not say one word about what had passed between them. And yet his voice was full of the merest hint of promise. It gave away nothing, but implied everything. It was a torturous combination Craig had never been able to resist.

He didn't know what to say. He was frozen in place. Despite himself, he found his gaze lingering on Jason's body. He was sliding down an embankment towards his old attraction to him with nothing to stop him.

"I was at Larry's the other day. Saw your photos."

"And?"

"So you're with someone?"

"How did you know?"

"It's obvious. Plus Larry mentioned it. So who is it?"

Craig muttered, "He's no one you know. He's a cop," and then instantly hated himself for saying anything.

Jason scoffed, "Oh, right, I heard about that."

"I doubt it."

Jason moved closer, and touched his arm. Craig felt his body explode with grateful pleasure.

"Come on. You can't be serious."

Craig could practically hear his own voice coming out of Jason's mouth.

You're kidding yourself. You're deluded. You know no one can love you.

He felt himself leaning in towards him, closer and closer.

"I've missed you," Jason said.

Craig was powerless to stop himself from leaning in to Jason's face. At the same time Jason snaked his hand around to Craig's crotch. When his hand found how rock hard he was, his eyes bored into his with triumph and contempt.

"Come on. I know you want it."

Craig moaned lightly, knowing it was true. Oh, he did, he did. He wanted to go back and have Jason fuck his brains out.

The next thing he knew his lips were pressing against Jason's. For a second, he sunk into it, recalling their sex, and his overwhelming need to please him.

But at the full pressure of Jason's lips, at the intrusion of his aggressive tongue into his mouth, Evan burst into his mind. The taste of Evan's lips. The softness, the kindness, the sweet, loving innocence of his desire.

With what seemed like a gigantic effort of will, he pulled back from Jason. By some miracle, he was able to see him clearly. He knew exactly what would happen if he didn't have Evan, if the last month hadn't ever happened. Jason would lure him back in dangling promises of a relationship, leading him on as long as he could, gaining his trust and then turning ice cold the minute Craig wanted more.

Craig saw, as never before, that the only reason it worked was because he wanted it like that. He craved it. He liked flinging himself at men who did not want him, because it made him feel bad about himself. Even now he could feel shame and self-disgust creeping in just being near Jason—that sickening revulsion at his own needs, that grotesque sense of self-betrayal, that sense of being stupid and worthless. It was a horrible, but comfortingly familiar feeling. It's what he knew, what he recognized as how he was supposed to feel when it came to men he loved. It was the way his father made him feel.

But then he'd never been in a relationship with someone like Evan before.

Craig somehow managed to gather his thoughts enough to see that if he betrayed Evan, it would be a monumental mistake from which he would never recover. It would be a betrayal of himself on such a deep level. It would be as if he finally accomplished the suicide he'd wanted the last time he left Jason's house. Now, suddenly, that memory surged into his mind with exquisite clarity. If he went home with Jason, he may as well jump straight into the bottomless ravine spreading out from this magnificent mansion.

He looked at Jason and said, simply, "No, I don't think I do."

Jason was taken aback. "What?"

"No. And Jason—"

He leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Fuck you."

Craig left, intent on finding his sister. He wanted to go home.

+++

The next day, Craig could barely restrain his eagerness to see Evan. He worked all day on the proposal, tweaking it in light of conversations he'd had the night before. It was all falling into place. He was driven. He had a fire inside him. This was going to work. And it made the day go by so much faster.

He was sitting in his living room doing nothing but waiting anxiously when finally, around dusk, he heard Evan's bike pulling up the gravel drive. He'd never been so glad to see him.

"Hi," he said, smiling at him when he walked in.

"Hi," Evan said, giving him a look. "Uh . . . what's up?"

Craig was so overwhelmed with emotion he couldn't speak. He just stood looking at him, taking in his bulky body, his dark hair and eyes, as if seeing him for the first time. He wasn't a ghost, or a dream; he was here and he was real. Craig felt awed by his physical presence, though it was really his dawning feeling of trust that was making him stare at Evan in wonder.

"What is it?" Evan asked him again.

"I want you to stay," Craig blurted out. "I mean, move in here."

"Alright," Evan said, as if he'd merely asked him to stay for lunch, while unzipping his leather jacket. Craig watched his casual ease in making himself at home, loving every gesture. He could feel his heart wrapping around him, leaping towards his strong, solid reality. He moved to go hold him, sliding his hands around his waist and cupping his round ass cheeks, smelling his skin, kissing his neck, thinking his name.

"What is it?" Evan whispered again, noticing Craig's almost frantic need. Craig clutched him tightly around the chest, rubbing and feeling his muscles, burying his face in Evan's presence.

"You'll really move in? You want to?" Craig said, still holding him.

"Of course," Evan said. "If that's what you want."

"I do," said Craig, almost disbelieving it could really happen. The idea of having him there, with him, all the time, was almost too good to be true.

He hugged Evan tighter. "Thank god for your girlfriend."

"What?" said Evan. "Why?"

"For forcing you to make a decision. What if that hadn't happened? What if you'd gotten married?"

For some reason, the comment made Evan think of Chad. He wondered if Chad was married now. Probably.

Craig grasped the back of Evan's neck, looking at him seriously. "What if I'd never met you?"

Evan looked at him sharply, struck by the fear he heard in Craig's voice. It was his own, echoing back to him through Craig's words.

"I was just asking myself the same question, when I was home. What if Jason hadn't rejected you?"

They looked into each other's eyes for a long time as a mutual understanding seemed to silently pass between them. Their first extended separation, their first immersion back into their old lives, had led them both to the exact same conclusion, which they could read nakedly exposed on the other's face.

I need you. I don't know who I am without you now. I don't want you to leave.

Craig whispered, "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, baby," Evan whispered back.

"Take me for a ride. Tomorrow. Let's go somewhere."

Evan smiled. Perfect.

They were departing from their normal lives, in a state of incompletion, flying across an abyss, needing reassurance that they'd find the other's arms in mid-air. Their lives were changing, evolving into something new, because of the other. There was fear, but also exhilaration.

They were suspended over a void, so why not embrace it?

"I will. I promise. Just you and I. . ."

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