“But I love you!”
“That’s your problem. You waited too long to tell me.” He shrugged. “I’ve found someone who isn’t afraid to say the words, someone I really love, who’s worthy of that love.”
“But you said you loved me!”
“And you believed me? You’re a pathetic whore. You wanted to be loved so badly you were willing to believe whatever I told you.”
“But…”
“Face it, Bascopolis. You’re not worth loving. You were always a whore, and you’ll always be one. I’m leaving you.”
“I’m leaving you.” Those words followed me up through the layers of sleep, and I’d wake, shaking and nauseous, my face wet with tears.
* * * *
The phone rang, and I scrambled to answer it. “Wills?”
“No. It’s Vincent.”
I sighed. “Oh. Vince. Hi. You’re home.”
“No shit. I got your message. What’s up?”
“It’s…I know Wills is on a job, but…”
“Jesus, Bascopolis, is that all those hang-ups were about?”
“Well, I…”
“You know I gave him permission to let you know his flight had gotten in…” he started impatiently. “…but beyond that—”
“That’s just it, Vince. He hasn’t called. I haven’t heard from him at all.”
“Not at all?”
“No, not even to let me know he’d arrived at…well, wherever he’d arrived at, and every time I try calling him, I get his voicemail. Now…” I paused for a breath. “Now I don’t even get that.”
“Goddammit.” He sounded grim, and I swallowed. “All right, Theo. Did he say who he talked to, who assigned him this job?”
“He never mentioned a name, Vince, just called him ‘sir.’ Whoever it was told him he had forty-five minutes to pack a suitcase and get to Dulles.”
“That’s cutting it close.”
“Yeah. He was supposed to pick up his tickets there.”
“Tickets? Plural?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. What did he tell you about the job?”
“Nothing. He never talks about the job. I assumed someone must have opened an e-mail with one of those viruses attached to it and the whole system shut down, so they needed Wills to clean up the mess.” I didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell my lover’s boss the choice names he’d called those “fucking idiots.” “But it’s been almost four weeks, Vince.”
“What did he pack?”
I scrubbed my face. “A couple of suits. A week’s worth of shirts and underwear. His tool belt and work boots, jeans. Vince, is he…Do you think he’s all right?”
“What do you think could have happened to him?”
“I don’t know. Plane crash. Car accident. He could have gotten mugged—”
“Mugged?” He choked, and it took him a second to clear his throat. “Matheson is a competent troubleshooter, Theo. He’s fine. Trust me on this.”
“If…if you say so.”
“I say so. Now, I’ll look into what’s going on and get back to you, okay?”
“Okay. Vince? If you talk to Wills…” I tried to think of the most discreet thing to say, then settled for, “…you’ll tell him I’ve missed him?”
“Yeah. Any other messages you’d like me to pass on?”
“Um…” Just that I loved him. “…no.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks, Vince. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. By the way, Paul sends his best.”
“Huh? Were you out in L. A?”
“Yeah. You know Spike’s got a part in one of those teen slasher flicks?”
“That’s on the level? I know Paul was worried about it. He thought it might be a ruse to get into Spike’s pants.”
“Yeah, so did I. I flew out to look into it. It’s on the level. His character gets sliced and diced about a quarter of the way through. If his scenes don’t wind up on the cutting room floor, I guess I’ll have to go see it.”
“Me too.” I hated that kind of movie, not for the graphic blood and guts, which was what seemed to bother Wills, but because pretty kids had sex and then got killed, almost as if in punishment. Still, it would be a perfect excuse for Wills to climb onto my lap and bury his head against my shoulder. Wills…
“All right, let me get going now.”
“Huh? Oh, thanks again, Vince.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll be in touch when I can.”
“Okay. Bye.”
I wasn’t really surprised when the phone rang later the same day. “Matheson is in one piece, and he’s on his way home.”
My heart rolled over in my chest. He was all right. He was alive. “When…when will he be here?”
“I’d say not more than a couple of hours.”
My throat began to ache, and my eyes began to burn. “Thanks, Vince.”
“You’re welcome. Now is it too much to hope that I won’t find your phone number on my Call ID anytime soon?”