A red tainted Silence (17 page)

sweet, chaste, reminding me in a flood of memories of those first tender kisses we’d shared.

We broke apart, touched foreheads, looking at each other, our eyes locked, goofy grin on his face, goofy grin on mine.

“I love you,” he said.

“Love you, too.”

“Love you more.”

“Impossible.”

“Anything’s possible now that I have you back.”

“True,” I said with a laugh, then kissed him again.

“Uh, guys,” Kemma’s voice said, breaking into our little private world.

We both looked up, blinking. I cleared my throat. I did not release Nick’s hand. My face felt flushed, but it wasn’t from embarrassment as I looked at all the reporters, some wide-eyed with shock, more with fascination, and a few like Kemma -- beaming like Cheshire cats.

“Yes, Kemma?”

“Does this mean you guys are back together again?” Another reported piped up. “Does this mean y’all are shagging each other now?” Nicholas burst out laughing at that. “Do I look like I’m in any condition to shag anyone?”

I shook my head and cleared my throat. “Kemma, the answer to your question is yes, we are. Back together, I mean.”

“And what’s your answer, Nicholas?”

He leaned toward the mic, slid his gaze my way, and in a conspiratorial whisper said,

“We will be, as soon as I can possibly manage it.” A Red-Tainted Silence

95

I about fainted on the spot. Flames of desire caused by his words -- by the conviction behind them -- whammed through me so hard I totally lost my train of thought. I know -- I know -- it was all over my face, my reaction, the shocked pleasure at his words.

Oh, how I couldn’t wait to see the articles on this press conference. And the pics.

I shifted in my seat and gave Nicholas a warning look to behave -- and he smiled so sweetly at me, I found myself shaking my head and grinning.

“So there will be more Dream music?”

I glanced at Nicholas at that. “Not yet. Nick’s next solo CD will be out in, what, two weeks?”

He shrugged. “I rather lost track of time.”

“Two weeks,” I said. “That will keep him busy doing interviews and such.”

“Will you be touring, Nicholas?”

He shook his head at that. “I honestly don’t know. I’m hurt pretty bad, feeling pretty weak. Looks like I’ll be busy trying to get better for a while. Maybe writing some new songs with Brandon, resting, trying to gain some weight.”

“What about the tape?”

I stilled. Panic thumped through my chest. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the detective drop his hands to his side and zero in on the person who’d spoken.

I looked at the guy who’d brought the reality of what Nicholas and I were dealing with back to the forefront. “I presume you’ve watched it,” I said quietly.

He nodded. “It came to our station yesterday.”

I sat back in my chair. “I would appreciate it if you would turn it over to the police.

That gentleman there in the brown suit is in charge of the case.”

“What’s on the tape?” another reporter asked.

I glanced at Kemma. She shrugged, had no idea. I shook my head when she started to say something -- this, we needed to get out. I glanced at Nicholas. He’d paled considerably, but held himself stoically. I noticed Nurse Goodall’s hand was on his shoulder. She was frowning.

“Copies of the tape were sent out, and others were going to be sent out, by the man who ... kidnapped Nicholas.”

“The man you killed, Brandon?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“What’s on the tape?” another voice asked.

I smirked and ran a hand over my face. “Something that would rival Tommy Lee and Pam Anderson’s. Maybe even surpass it for its ... entertainment value.” A low rumble as bodies shifted, glances sent the way of the guy who’d actually seen it.

96 Carolyn Gray

“Of you and Nicholas?” Kemma asked.

“Yes. Of me and Nicholas, when we were first together. A trip to Hawaii we’d taken.

We had no idea, but we were being filmed the entire time.” The detective walked up to the front of the room at that moment. “I’d like to ask that no more questions be asked about the tape. We don’t know how many were mailed out, but I’d appreciate it if any more do come to light, that they be delivered to me in care of the Durango Police Department. Thank you.”

The detective turned to me, and I glanced at Nicholas. He looked sick. “All right, sorry, folks, we’re going to have to end this. Nick’s about worn out. Thank you for coming.” Nurse Goodall didn’t wait. She had Nicholas turned about and wheeled out of the room so fast the crowd didn’t have time to react. Jeff followed, but I hung back. Once Nicholas was out of the room, the reporters all prepared to leave. I stood and grabbed my crutches. Jenny and Rex hovered nearby. I almost grinned -- none of the reporters except Kemma noticed I was still there. The star was gone. My Nicholas.

“So, you going back to your rooms now?” Jenny asked as we left, Mutt following on my heels, as was the detective.

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired.”

We stopped outside in the hall. “How about if we come by tomorrow?”

“I’d like that. You, too, Rex.”

He extended his hand then and I took it. The reporters filed past on their way out, noticing then that I was still hanging around, but with Mutt’s stern look, I was left alone.

Maybe I should hire the guy permanently, I thought.

A few reporters were looking around as if they were hunting for Nicholas, and I saw the sighs of exasperation when they realized he was gone. Then I saw Kemma. I called out to her, “Call tomorrow,” and smiled as several people frowned at her. With a flick of her hand she waltzed off, camera guy in tow.

After saying my goodbyes, I escaped. Except from Mutt. He and I got on an empty elevator and made our way back to the rooms. By the time I got back to Nick’s room, he was already in bed, robe off, lying back in his pillows, exhausted.

“Hey,” I said, coming round and sitting on the side of his bed.

“Hey. You did good,” he said.

I shrugged. “It went better than I thought.”

“Except for the tape.”

“Yeah, well, I imagine that won’t be the only one to crop up, Nicholas.” He laid a hand on my chest. “And like I told you, I don’t care. I don’t think I did anything to be ashamed of. Not for a guy in love with his partner.” I smiled, then took his hand. “Did you love me then?” A Red-Tainted Silence

97

“I told you so.”

“I loved you, too.”

He stilled. “But you hardly ever said it. Why was it so hard for you, Brandon?”

“Stupid youth. Didn’t realize how good what we had was until I’d chased it away.” I paused. “Fear.”

“Now you can say it without fear.”

“Yes. I can. Even though whoever is behind all this is still out there. I won’t let him come between us again.”

“Good. I’m glad. I won’t either.”

His gaze softened, and he smiled so happily at me I had to reach out and touch him. I leaned toward him and tucked his collar back into place, then ran a hand down his satin pjs.

I love satin.

“How about we take a small nap before our lovely supper arrives?” I said.

A slow smile crept over his face, and he scooted over, patting the bed next to him.

“Hop on up, baby. Forget the nap. Let’s suck face instead.”

“Nicholas!” I laughed as I set my crutches aside and climbed into bed with him. He turned onto his side, facing me. I did the same. I smiled as he kissed me on my nose, ran a hand down the side of my face, then cradled my cheek in his hand. He inched closer to me, and our lips met ...

The wait for our dinner to arrive flew by like it was nothing at all.

98 Carolyn Gray

The morning hours passed slowly as I waited for Nicholas to wake. Blissful, sweet morning hours, which saw me playing my piano for a while, then wandering down the hallway toward my bedroom, a smile playing on my lips each time I saw him still curled up in my bed. Or splayed across it, twisted in the sheets, pillows bunched up in his arms one time, on the floor the next.

For a guy with sore ribs, he moved around an awful lot.

Noon came and went. I found myself back in the kitchen making a sandwich and pouring myself a glass of milk. Nicholas would be starving by the time he finally woke up, I was sure, but I didn’t know what a vegetarian would eat. Not a ham sandwich.

I wondered if he ate cheese.

I looked down at my shirt and realized I’d gotten mustard on it. With a sigh I yanked it off -- it was kinda hot in the house anyway. A good day for surfing, but I figured I’d probably drown if I tried, I was still so tired. I couldn’t leave Nicholas alone anyway.

So I sat at the table, a music magazine in front of me, though the words I was trying to read kept blending together. My eyes refused to focus. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, in my bed, in my life, and what it meant. If I was even right about what it meant. I was at once exhausted, exhilarated, anxious, and jittery. And still recovering from the flu, which made me dizzy.

Or maybe just the thought of him in my bed made me dizzy.

I wanted Nicholas to wake up -- but that made me nervous, too. What would he say when he did? The night’s events had given him little choice but to rely on me to help him.

But there would be no reason for him to stay now. He could disappear if he wanted to -- and A Red-Tainted Silence

99

he might. What if he did want to leave when he got up? What if Percy’s threats made him feel like he had no choice? Those weren’t idle threats the bastard had made.

And they were directed at me, too.

I’d made an enemy. It was just a matter of time before he found out it was me who had beaned him with that board and he tracked me down.

As I sat and stared at the magazine, my half-eaten sandwich forgotten, worries I didn’t care much for really started to surface. Maybe I’d read Nick wrong. Maybe he only went along with my insistence that we come here because he’d had no other choice.

Maybe he was in my room now, lying there awake and staring at the ceiling like I so often did, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this mess. He didn’t know me. I could be just as crazy as Percy. He had friends who would take him in, far more legitimate friends than me. People who weren’t surrounded by others who would judge him. Educated friends who obviously cared for him. That girl, Karen.

That guy who smacked him on the butt.

I dreaded telling him I’d dropped out of school. Didn’t have a job. Loved steak, fish, chicken. Smoked whenever I could snatch a cigarette from my brothers. Drank beer. Craved one now but there wasn’t any in the house. Spent my days alone out on the beach or surfing, my nights writing music for someone who I’d never actually met and didn’t really have any hope of meeting.

Pathetic.

I touched my lips, realizing then something that gave me a wild sense of joy -- Nicholas had instigated the kisses we’d shared. I’d held him on my insistence, comforted him, yeah --

I still couldn’t believe he’d called me his white knight -- but the kiss in the abandoned apartment, the kisses in my room were all his doing. The kisses on my lips, my neck, my collarbone.

And then I remembered the look he’d given me as I’d gone to take my shower. He wanted me. He really wanted me. Me.

Why? that irritatingly familiar voice of self-defeat said in my mind. Why would he want you? After all, he knows very little about you, Brandy boy. Right now all you are is another pretty face with a sizeable crush on him. What’s so special about that? He’d had that before, it was obvious. And would again.

Nick’s just like that -- people want to be around someone like him, someone who’s inherently fascinating. Intriguing. Desirable. Beautiful. He’s electric, magnetic, flashy, especially when the center of attention. And he gives it back, in spades, tripling what he’s given and delivering it to those around him and embracing them tight. He does it with such flare, with such charm, he is irresistible. Both sexes see that in him. I’d seen that for myself, saw it even more as the years went by and he took the world by storm.

100

Carolyn Gray

Back then, the way I saw things, I was just another boy who wanted a piece of Nicholas Kilmain. What right did I have to that?

I pushed my plate aside and stood, this time fighting the urge to go down the hallway and check on him. I grabbed my stained shirt and returned to the piano and started to play, trying to calm my nerves, trying to convince myself with the soothing music -- a nocturne I’m especially fond of -- that it was just exhaustion twisting my thoughts around. He’d kissed me. More than once. I’d seen the desire in his eyes at the bookstore, felt him tremble beneath my touch as we stood together in my room. He was hurt, yet he’d still wanted me.

Hadn’t he?

“Damn, Ashwood,” I said in irritation. “This is getting fucking ridiculous.” Determined to put the inane ramblings in my head aside, I moved onto another piece, one my grandfather had enjoyed. I liked the piece despite that fact. He and I had often been at odds when he was alive, and much of my dislike of him -- and my fear -- was because of his attitude toward, as he’d put it, “fuckin’ queers.” That’s how he always said it -- “Did you see those fuckin’ queers on the tube?” Then he’d mumble something about “cocksuckers” and how it should be a law they be made into eunuchs. How my mom had come out so ...

normal ... with him as a father I don’t know. She told me once that it was because he hated people who were “different” that she went the other direction in her own attitudes.

I would be forever grateful for that.

What would he have done had he known his youngest grandson was destined to like boys? Tried to get my mom to disown me, I’m sure. Send me “away,” wherever that was. Just as long as it was far away from him.

Thankfully, he died before I was thirteen and he never knew my secret.

There were other relatives I knew would take such a stand regarding just my association with Nicholas, much less if I admitted to being his ... lover. I stopped playing and leaned on the piano. I rested my forehead on my folded arms. The thought was sobering.