1. The Client.
He got off the motorcycle, opened the packet of chemicals, and popped a single tablet onto his palm. He knew his boyfriend wouldn’t approve, but he was doing this for him. He broke the tablet in half, swallowed one, and crushed the other with his shoe heel. He checked the sign on the restaurant in front of him and pulled out his phone to see if it was the same picture Raymond had sent him. Twenty-four year old junior lawyer Barrett Grant was coming from work, late for his date.
He fixed his hair as he bathed in the sunny yellow lighting of the diner through the glass door. He opened the door and started pulling off his coat, feeling his muscles tighten against his white dress shirt. As he did so, his eyes marched around in search until they landed on his beautiful, brown-haired hunk, Raymond Hale. He was dressed in a light grey sweatshirt that gave his muscles even more definition and his brown eyes sparkled gold the moment he saw Barrett.
Barrett exhaled and tried not to look too formal as he walked to the table. He hated spaces like these, but his boyfriend wanted this so all of it was for him.
“Hey there,” Raymond greeted.
Barrett placed his coat on the back of the chair and looked around before bending to kiss Raymond on the forehead.
“Happy anniversary. Sorry I’m late.”
“Mr. Grant, did you just kiss me on my forehead? In a restaurant?” Raymond’s smile widened as he looked around.
“I’m just glad to see you.” Barrett walked over to his seat. He picked up the menu and pulled his hair out of his forehead.
“Glad to see me? Who are you and what did you do with Barret?” he joked. “I’m glad to see you too. You look good.”
“Of course I do.”
“There you are!” Raymond laughed.
Barrett only rolled his eyes, looking again at the menu.
“I’m only kidding, Bear. I know this is all very sappy for you, but you’ve never been this giddy… to what do I owe the occasion? Don’t say our six-month anniversary dinner because this was all me.”
“Nights of being too busy, mornings where I disappear. The usual.”
“And you’ve apologized every time; I hold nothing against you.”
“Well, maybe you should. I’m reckless. A stunt. Borderline nut case… ah, never mind, fuck me.”
“Fuck you? Here? Really?”
Barrett blushed, picking up the menu again. “Public displays of affection make me uncomfortable. You know this.”
“And yet you’re the one with the stained face.”
Barrett didn’t say anything to that; he only kept looking at the menu. Barrett could tell by Raymond’s reflective look that he was wondering if he had offended Barrett. “No, you didn’t offend me. You can’t offend me. You’re Raymond. Waiter!” The order was taken down, and the waiter patiently scribbled down the orders. Barrett picking for both of them meant less temptation for Raymond. There were certain things Raymond couldn’t eat, and ironically, those were his favorite things to eat. He usually cheated death by stabbing himself with his EpiPen before he convulsed, but Barrett hated it when he did that. ‘If you kill yourself, I will kill you,’ he had once barked at Raymond. His anger was short-lived as Raymond’s tongue had been down his throat and his crotch pressed against him just moments later.
The waiter came along with their plates, and just as they were about to dig in— “That reminds me.” He put down his fork and grabbed his coat from behind him, rummaging through the pockets until he came out with a box.
“Bear?” Raymond’s expression spelled shock.
“Oh, don’t get all Raymond, it’s not a ring.”
He got up and walked behind him. He draped his arms over Raymond’s shoulders to place the box on the table and opened it to reveal a chain, heavy set unmistakable titanium sheen, with the name ‘ray’ in fluid, rosy font and diamonds set in the hollow of the letters.
“I hoped it was short enough so it wouldn’t get in the way of work. I wouldn’t want you to take it off for some reason.” He went back to his chair to watch the baffled expression on Raymond’s face.
“I thought you said you didn’t like public displays of affection?” Raymond said, breath shaky.
Barrett loved the way the light of the diamond fired against the gray of his shirt. And the way the chain made its home in his chest. And when he flexed a bit, he instantly looked a million times sexier. Barrett didn’t even think it possible.
“Have I ever mentioned how good you look in gray?”
Raymond reddened. “Look who’s talking, the guy everybody wants.”
“Who is everybody?”
“The reporters that photograph and write about you, every dick who likes dicks. I mean, you’re with a gay man and it still hasn’t stopped the ladies from trying.”
“I want you so that doesn’t matter,” Barrett said firmly.
Raymond beamed bright. “I love the necklace… maybe a bit too expensive—”
“It was custom made. I can’t take it back now can I?”
Raymond lifted his hands in surrender. “Your gift is at my place, so, when we get there?”
Barrett smirked. “As long as it comes with you fucking me—”
“Okay, you wouldn’t say that!”
“What did I say wrong?”
“That you hope we fuck. You know I always want to, but you’re… difficult. Where’s your difficulty?”
“My difficulty?” Barrett sounded puzzled.
“I meant that in a good way. You’re a completely different person tonight.”
Barrett paused and laughed. “I really would just want to get out of here with you right now.”
Raymond’s eyes narrowed, “Oh God, don’t tell me…”
“It was barely half a pill.”
“I can’t believe this.” Raymond scoffed and picked up his fork again.
Had he told Raymond he wouldn’t do substances again? No, said he would never overdo it, and after that look from Raymond, he was considering burning all that was left of it.
He picked up his fork, and they ate for some time in sober silence. There came a moment where it looked like Raymond would say something, but he didn’t. Barrett wished he’d said it; it was better than silence. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to get ‘out of his shell’ tonight. He started to ponder the entire evening and the cost of his actions like a lawyer would, fighting propositions one by one, when his phone rang, slicing the tension.
He saw the number; it was someone from his firm. He looked at Raymond, and ensured that he nodded before he picked up the phone. It was, first of all, background noise: some crying and keys rattling in the background, and someone shouting, “SHUT UP.”
Then the voice cleared, and someone started talking and talking and kept talking.
“You said Jimmy Kull?” Barrett said to the air, to which the person on the other line grunted. “Okay… I’ll be there in about 20 minutes.” He put down the phone, and his eyes rose apologetically to meet Raymond’s; there was no fire, no nothing in him.
“I know,” he said softly.
“I’m being called to the station; a client requested me—”
“Your reputation precedes you. Damn, it makes you sexier.”
Barrett’s face contorted into a frown. Raymond grabbed his hands from across the table. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait up. I promise. Just go defend the innocent… or the guilty.”
Barrett smiled weakly as he picked up his coat and slid it on. “You know I love you,” he said without looking up from his buttons.
“You know I love you more,” Raymond replied sweetly; the tone one would use in reassuring a child.
Barrett nodded curtly before making his way to the door. The air outside was much chillier. The moon was high and shining. The yellow from the diner washed all the way out into the damp street. The same damp street was kissed violently by his packet of speed. He watched a car run over it before his thighs crossed his motorcycle, and his helmet was strapped to his head. He mouthed the familiar name again to himself: “Jimmy Kull.”
