- Black Gold 2 - Double Black (13 page)

Jett
felt
old and wasted. He felt useless. He wasn’t anybody, really. He was Mr. Goldie. He was some long-in-the-tooth punk on the verge of selling out. It wouldn’t take much more for him to lose everything he had set out to be. Then what? He’d OD and let this kid assume the Mr. Goldie title?

That was the problem, wasn’t it? Jett Black wasn’t Mr. Goldie.

With other people, with women, he was still Jett Fucking Black, bad boy and punk legend. Out with Goldie, he felt like Mr. Goldie.
It wasn’t that he was embarrassed to be seen with him. It was that Jett was a lesser star in the Goldie constellation, no brighter or better than the dozens of other celebrities instantly forgotten when Goldie walked into a room or onto the red carpet. Without his band, Jett felt unsure who or what he was anymore, and being perceived as part of Goldie’s entourage made it worse.

Jett groaned and scouted a place to sit. He grabbed the desk chair and turned it around to sit in it backward, then expressed with a curt gesture that Cole had better sit his ass down too.

Before Cole could start ranting, Jett held up his hand. “Let’s clear the air right quick before you spew any further ignorance and offend my delicate sensibilities. To the charge of cheating on Billy, I plead not guilty. I would
never
. You think he’s not enough for me? You think I don’t know what I’ve got waiting for me in there? I’m an asshole, not blind.”

Though Cole still wore a resentful expression, Jett could see he had his attention. “Next, let me say that, if I were you, I’d be pissed at me too about the fucking-yourmom thing. That’s valid. Nobody wants anybody fucking their mom, including their dad. Moms are sacrosanct. But you know, when I met your mom, I was your age, and she was older, mysterious, didn’t tell me she was married until later. All I knew was that she believed in me, and she was beautiful, and she seemed to want me. I’m not saying you’re mine, but I will say this, okay?”

Jett paused, making sure Cole was with him.

 

The young man leaned forward, a brow up.

Jett scrubbed a hand over his stubble. “When I asked about protection, she said she had it handled, okay? I asked. I thought she’d have to be on the pill. I wasn’t famous then. I was nobody. I wasn’t even touring, just playing in the local dives. I couldn’t imagine anybody would want to have my baby, all right? I don’t go around fucking moms and wrecking homes, but if it happened, it was because they came to me. Those women, your mom included, came to
me
. I don’t know why they fuck me. I can’t answer that.”

Cole clutched the edge of the bed. “That’s a lie. A lie!”

Even as Cole said it, his eyes grew wet. He sucked in a deep breath and averted his gaze. “She said they were having trouble getting pregnant. My dad blamed her, but it was his problem. She said I was a miracle.”

A tear rolled down Cole’s cheek. “Her medical bills, my dad rejecting me, my best fucking friend who doesn’t want to settle for the ‘only other gay boy in town,’ that’s all because of you. Now I meet Goldie, someone who would actually love me back, and I can’t have him because of you. Why the fuck is it always
you
?”

“Oh, Cole, fuck.” Jett looked at that face so like his own and knew, deep down, the kid was his. He didn’t want it to be, didn’t want to be old enough to have a grown son, but he felt it in his gut the same way that he’d felt that Goldie was meant to be his. He trusted his instincts, but he didn’t like them.

Not this time.
“If she’d ever contacted me, I’d have helped her. Even if you weren’t mine. Linda was special to me. She was a fine woman, one of the few in that neck of the woods who saw anything worthwhile in me.” Jett hesitated. It was awkward deciding whether to reach out. Tentatively, he extended his scarred hand toward Cole to pat the kid’s shoulder. “What would you do if you were me? About you, about this? Lay the grand wisdom of eighteen on an old man.”
Cole’s eyes widened. He stammered, “You have to step up. Take on your responsibilities. He doesn’t want to be my dad anymore, and I don’t have a mom. I need…”
At this, Cole looked lost. He obviously didn’t know what he needed or wanted. Or else it was something he couldn’t ask for.

“I’m not a child. But I need to go to school. I need somewhere to go. I don’t belong anywhere anymore.”

“Billy says you belong here.” Jett shrugged. His heart lurched despite the pretense of indifferent cool. “He says he’s gonna pay for your college even if you’re not mine. Think I’m gonna stop him? Think I could? Did you get your test yet? My shit’s on file. Tell Grace to drive you to the place today. If you’re mine, I’ll take care of you. You’re not mine, Billy’ll take care of you. You’re not gonna get left in the cold, kiddo.”

“I didn’t know where to go or what to do.” Cole sniffed and pushed back his hair. It was dark brown like Jett’s before he started dyeing it black, but nowhere near as long or coarse. It frizzed and fluffed at the least provocation. Linda’s had too.

Jett glimpsed what Billy must have seen from the start: a broken young man looking for somewhere to belong. The financial pretense was easier for Cole to talk about, but he didn’t want to be rich. He wanted to go to school. He wanted to return to his hometown, to belong somewhere, to feel loved and welcomed.

Billy probably intuited that shit with his preternatural kung fu people-reading skills. And maybe,
maybe
, Billy was so attuned to that vibe lately because he’d been feeling the same way.

If Billy had believed money was all Cole wanted, he probably would’ve given it to him and sent him on his way. If that was all Cole wanted, the kid would’ve taken it and run. The fact they were still here, looking at Jett to provide some magical link, spoke volumes.

Of course, Billy was pushing for a test. Even if Cole saw Goldie as a fantasy within his grasp, Jett knew Billy would have been horrified at being walked in on like that. Maybe Jett wasn’t young and hot, and maybe his refractory period wasn’t what it once was, but no way could this kid give Billy what Jett gave him yesterday.

Billy might cuddle someone he saw as a sweet little boy, but in bed he’d always needed a man.
“He really just thinks of me as a child, doesn’t he?” Cole looked miserable, as if his mind had followed the same path as Jett’s.
To atone for being prickly, Jett reached over and smoothed Cole’s hair. Though Cole tensed, he allowed it.
Jett forced a smile. “Anyway, Grace knows what to do. She’ll get you through the test. We’ll figure it out from there.”

“You won’t tell him what I was doing, will you? I don’t know what I would’ve done if he woke up.” Cole’s anxious expression shifted to wry humor. “I guess he wouldn’t think of me as a kid anymore.”

“Listen, Cole…” Jett flashed on Billy’s words, his seeming desire to coparent. He tried to believe it, to separate feeling old from Billy thinking he was old.

Tried to see Cole as something other than a well-built, much-younger rival in his sexual prime.
Jett sighed and tucked Cole’s hair behind his ears, focusing on that paternal gesture to settle his feelings on the matter. “Maybe we don’t have to see you as a kid, or treat you like one, if you’d rather we see you as an adult. Either way, he’s spoken for. Whatever you think of me, I love him. Whatever you feel about my past or my reputation, Billy believes in me. And that’s between us.”
Jett pulled away and straightened, resting his hands on his thighs where they spread around the chair back. He was keenly aware that he’d never put a shirt on, that he had no shoes, that he’d made grilled cheese he left in the other room. He was scattered, scrambled, and oddly enough, a little excited.
Staring Cole in the eye, he asked, “Anyway, do you really think I’d tattle on you to Billy? Do I look like the hall monitor?”
Seemingly in spite of himself, Cole grinned. “No. Y’know, before all of this, I used to think…” Cole took a deep breath.

Jett remembered being that young and how hard it had been to admit when he was wrong. Not much had changed since then, other than now Jett could see the benefit in being vulnerable to the right person.

Cole seemed to feel his way through the thought word by word. “It was like you two were so open, and I felt like I could admit how I felt too. Not to everyone, of course. But I thought it was kinda cool that someone who looked like me could get someone like him.”

The kid’s goofy grin was disarming. As uncomfortable as he made Jett, he was starting to see why Billy liked the kid.
Jett’s lips quirked into a half smile. “I thought that was kinda cool too. Can’t pretend I expected it. People assume I think I’m such hot shit, but it’s a front. I mean, that’s what it is to be a man, maybe. You put yourself out there, make yourself look bulletproof ’cause what choice have you got? Then hunker down and hope no one blows holes in your facade faster than you can patch ’em up.”
“Is that the difference?” Cole looked pensively at Jett. “Because you got tail whenever you wanted it, and I can’t get even people who like me to give me the time of day.” He averted his eyes, blushed, and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I should uh, see about that test.”
Jett grabbed Cole’s wrist before the boy could leave. He caught his gaze and held it. He saw Linda in those eyes. It wouldn’t be so bad if this was their son.
Maybe he’d been hurt back then to find out she was married. Maybe he’d been young enough, naive enough, to be angry at being used when he’d cared for her. He hated the idea she’d only wanted that one thing from him, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t given him something in return.
Whatever she’d done, whatever Jett felt about it, it wasn’t on the kid.

“Believe in yourself, okay? Don’t be afraid of believing what you believe. Believe it hard enough, and even the haters have to respect the force of your personality. Jett Black’s guide to personal magnetism.”

Jett released Cole and stood, shoving the desk chair back into place with one foot. Cole eyed Jett and cocked his head back. “My mom said that she knew what it was like to live a lie, and she didn’t want me to live that way. She said her lie was her choice, but that I should be free of it. If I go and this is done, there won’t be any doubt anymore. Are you okay with that?”

“Whatever else you think about me, know this: I’m not afraid of reality. Might rage against it, but I don’t hide from it.“ Jett snorted. “I’d always rather know the truth, ’cause your ma was right. That’s the only way to be free.”

Jett scuffed the rug with his bare toes, staring at the chipped black polish and wondering how much to say. He looked up and caught Cole studying him. Words bubbled to Jett’s lips. He released them, hoping they were the right ones.

“If you’re mine, I’d be proud to own that. Couldn’t ask for a better, all right? Just try not to molest your stepfather in the future, and we’re all good.”

Cole gave him an impish look. “He’s not really my stepfather unless you’re married, you know.”
“Oh, is that what it takes? You convince the US government to recognize gay marriage, I’ll drag him to the altar.”
Cole’s brows rose. “You do realize it’s legal in some states. You’re not banned from flying, are you?”

Jett froze, then glared at Cole and headed for the door. He was in the hallway before Cole could say another word. Jett groaned at having opened this can of worms.
He’d always hated the outdated, patriarchal concept of marriage. It was just another form of government-sponsored slavery, promoted by the diamond and greeting card industries, and pushed by the blithely ignorant romance novels and films consumed to the tune of billions annually in the United States. Jett hated heteronormative ideology suckering gay men into signing up to an institution whose legal roots dated to a time when women were chattel and rich white male privilege formalized the subjugation of one’s spouse to allow clear delineation of expectations.
It was a bunch of fucking bullshit was what it was.
Still… Goldie would be beautiful in white.

“Talk to Grace,” Jett called over his shoulder, then disappeared into the haven of the master bedroom and shut the door to wake his angel for some breakfast in bed. Er, on the massage table.

Whatever.
* * * *

Goldie awoke and eyed the clock. Half an hour of sleep after the massage. Not bad.
His muscles felt looser, though his head was still very sore. He fingered the stitches. Eventually his hair would grow back and cover it, but his chest constricted as he remembered jumping into the fray.
The guy he tackled didn’t look bloody beyond scraped palms from landing on the concrete, but Goldie had hurt someone. On purpose.
In fact, he’d also hurt Jett, though he seemed to enjoy it and could’ve opted out. Goldie blushed as he remembered the spanking. He’d watched his fair share of kinky movies, but he’d never done anything like that.
Goldie had acted out a fantasy. A fantasy that he’d never dared believe could be a reality.

Jett was the one who barged into industry parties and yelled at record producers. He was the one who got drunk or high and got into fights. Goldie had never thought that Jett would tolerate having the tables turned, let alone enjoy it.
The possibilities made Goldie’s pulse race.

Jett had promised to stay with him more and take Goldie with him when he went out. This morning, Goldie hadn’t woken alone. After months of anxiety and fearing to say anything, could it really have been that simple?

It felt like they’d turned a corner. Not everything was resolved, but Goldie was relieved his trust hadn’t been misplaced.
Jett still loved him. Better yet, he seemed to love the part of Goldie that he’d been afraid of showing.
At least, last night he did. Whether that would remain a one-off, Goldie wasn’t sure. If they did play again, he should figure out a safe word. Goldie didn’t want to injure Jett, and he had no idea what limits were appropriate. Those weren’t the sort of things covered in porn movies.

He peered around the room. The door was closed.
Odd. He’d told the masseuse to leave it open so Jett would feel free to come in. Also strange was the plate of grilled cheese sandwiches and rice cakes sitting on

the glass table next to the door.

Jett walked in as Goldie was staring at the food, entering his field of vision as a bare torso and ancient blue jeans whose waistband had long ago frayed and been yanked off. Jett grabbed the plate and started toward him, face blank except for dark, gleaming eyes bloodshot from pot smoking. Jett proceeded to the small table on the balcony overlooking the hillside and put down the plate. Then he pulled out a chair, turned it around, and straddled it in his casually reckless way.