Too Stupid to Live(Romancelandia) (35 page)

The dude was
messing
with him, feinting to see Sam freak out. Things just kept getting better.

“Sam!” Oh thank
God
. Nik’s voice. Sam turned his head toward the street, taking another step back.

He set his foot down on something that rolled out from under his heel, knocking him off-balance. As he flailed his arms, trying to keep from going down, he saw Jurgen coming for the rednecks, his face the stuff of nightmares. A demon’s mask, if demons were in the business of ripping apart gay bashers with their bare hands. Sam didn’t get to see that part of it, though. Something hit him in the side of the head, everything went white, and then he felt his brain bounce around in his skull. Unconsciousness welcomed him with red and blue emergency lights.

Ian picked a bar near his office where lots of professional guys went after work. He’d even seen some gay guys in there, but it wasn’t a gay bar, just the kind of place where no one got in your shit. Tierney made for the bartender the second they were through the door, and had ordered two beers and a shot of whiskey before Ian sat on the stool next to him. “You want a shot, too?” he asked Ian, not quite looking at him.

“No, thanks.”

They waited silently for their drinks, Tierney rigid and staring straight ahead. No one sat near them, so it was semi-private. When the bartender brought their order, Tierney downed his shot, chugged half his beer, then slumped on his stool. “Gonna need another beer,” he told the bartender before the guy was ten feet off.

Ian raised an eyebrow and sipped his beer. Tierney seemed a wee-bit stressed. He felt surprisingly relaxed. Whatever happened, he knew two things: he was already out, and he could still take Tierney in a fight.

Not that it would come to that. But just in case it did.

Tierney finished his first beer and started on his second, drinking it slower. “I’m sorry, man,” he said, fingers twirling a beer coaster on the bar.

Well, hell. “Guess I can see why you took it hard.”

Tierney snorted. “Kind of a surprise, yeah.”

“Sorry.” Ian wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but it seemed like the best thing. He didn’t have to mean it. “Your reaction was worse than I expected.”

T cleared his throat. “You been planning that for a while?”

“Telling you? Not really. I mean, I knew I had to, but I didn’t plan it out. Just seemed like it was time.”

“’Cause of that kid?” he asked in a strangled voice.

“I was going to come out no matter what.”
But even if I hadn’t planned to, I would have for Sam
.

Tierney hunched over, staring into his beer.

Ian surreptitiously checked his watch. Tierney had eighteen minutes left. He probably shouldn’t go there, but he didn’t have anything to lose and he needed to move this along. “I figured telling you would be the end of our friendship. Even thought you might try taking a swing at me. But T, man, you kinda lost your shit.”

Tierney didn’t puff up and get pissed. He took another long drink of his beer. “Yeah, well . . . So I guess it’s serious, you and that kid.”

“Sam. Yeah, I think it’s kind of permanent.” Adrenaline rushed through him as he said it, but this time it was more exhilarating than terrifying. He could fix things, right?

“Well that just fucking figures,” Tierney muttered.

“Not like I’m going to go straight again,” Ian said.

“I don’t fucking care about you being gay!” Tierney nearly shouted. People near them looked in surprise, but then most politely turned away. After giving Ian and Tierney a hairy eyeball or two. Ian had picked this bar carefully for tolerance, not acceptance.

Ian turned his head, giving Tierney a few seconds to compose himself. “Okay,” he finally said. “Then what the fuck was that about on Sunday?”

“I’m jealous,” Tierney hissed. “Can’t you fucking see that? I’m jealous, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair, straightening up and chugging the rest of his beer, then motioning with his glass for another.

Ian stared at the side of his face as T slumped back on his barstool. “Shit,” he breathed. “It’s true? You’re gay.”

“Aw fuck,” Tierney groaned.

Ian leaned over the bar toward T, trying to get in his face. “Then what the
fuck
is with all the homophobia?”

Tierney rested his temples on the palms of his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t know, man. I mean, it started when I was a teenager, I guess because I was trying to hide it if you believe all the psych, and it just never stopped. I
can’t
stop, or someone might figure me out. And without a good reason to be out, I mean, like a
really
good reason, I just can’t face that.” He lifted his head, blinking his bloodshot eyes. His face was so pale he looked like a ghost. “Welcome to my world, man. It’s a scary place.”

Ian straightened up, trying to think. For fuck’s sake, what was he supposed to say to that? “I get it. Okay, and so you’re jealous . . . of what? Me coming out and having a boyfriend?” Ian kept his voice low as the bartender walked toward them with another full pint.

Tierney snorted and accepted his next beer from the bartender, who immediately walked off. “Yeah. That. I’m jealous because you have a boyfriend. You’re the guy who’s got everything I want.”

It was disorienting as hell. Ian felt like he’d been looking at Tierney wrong, and had been for years. He had to make some sort of effort to help the guy, though. “You could have it, too, you know. You’re a good-looking guy, T, and there’s gotta be someone out there . . .”
Fuck
. He needed to find a P.C. way to say this.

“Who’ll put up with me?” Tierney laughed meanly. “That’s the least of my worries, dude. Only one guy I ever wanted like that, and I gave up on him years ago. Besides, you’ve met my family. You think Father or Mother would put up with a gay son? Fuck, no. That son of a bitch would kick me right out of the company
and
the will.”

Ian’s cell phone buzzed on his belt. Hell with it, he was after hours and Tierney needed something from him. Help or something. Some kind of gay brotherhood support bullshit.
I’m in so far over my head
.

Dammit, he wished Sam were here. Or he wished he were with Sam. He couldn’t think of a fucking thing to say.

“This is it for me, dude. I’m gonna be a pathetic, closeted drunk fucker who spouts homophobia in public and gets his rocks off through a hole in a bathroom wall for the rest of my life. I’ve been sucked off in so many bathrooms, I bone up when I flush the toilet.”

Ian’s phone buzzed at him again, but he ignored it. “T, it doesn’t have to be like that. There are guys who have relationships and stay in the closet.” There had to be, right? Jesus, this was depressing as shit.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Tierney said, picking up his glass and lifting it to his mouth. “I said there’s only been one guy for me, ever, and he’s never going to want me.” He chugged the rest of his beer, then tried to catch the bartender’s eye by waving the glass.

“Dude, maybe you need to lay off the—dammit.” Ian yanked his phone out of his pocket. Whoever the fuck kept texting him didn’t want to be ignored, so if he wanted to deal with Tierney’s shit—which, point of fact, he didn’t, but it looked like he had to—he had to answer and shut the fucker up. Then he could maybe get to Sam.

It was from Dalton.
They hit him in the head with a baseball bat
.

Ian nearly dropped the phone.
Hit who
? But he had a horrible feeling about who it was. He scrolled back to Dalton’s previous messages.

911 I think Sam’s getting bashed behind the club
.

Sam’s down. Get over here NOW
.

The blood drained from Ian’s head and fingers, leaving him suddenly cold but sweating. He stared at the screen, then jumped out of his seat and was halfway across the bar before he heard Tierney yell. “Ian! What the fuck, dude?”

Ian hit the door running.

Someone was driving a nail into his arm. Sam tried to pull it away, but he was tied down to the table. Why had Ian tied him to the table? It was uncomfortable as hell. He tried to move his head, but even his forehead was strapped down. “Ian,” he complained, but his voice wasn’t strong enough to express his annoyance. “Grapefruit,” he said. That came out a little louder.

“Ohthankgod,” Ian babbled.

Garlic breath
. “Uh,” Sam complained. God, Ian was just a torture fiend tonight, wasn’t he?

“Sam?” Nik’s voice shouted. “Sam, can you hear me?”

What was Nik doing here? How did he make his voice echo like that? “Wha . . .?”

“Sam?”

Sam swallowed. What was the thing around his neck? Nothing made sense. “Where’s Ian?”

“He’s coming, Sam. He’s coming, I swear.”

“He usually waits for me to come first.” Sam tried to screw up his face in confusion, but it hurt like hell. “What are you doing here?”

“Sam, can you open your eyes?”

It took a few tries, but he got them open. The world burst on him in painful detail. Lights and people and footsteps and Nik hovering anxiously over him, Jurgen standing nearby looking hellaciously pissed. For a second, Sam had a flicker of memory about Jurgen, but then it was gone. “Where’s Ian?”

A woman in a blue shirt moved Nik out of the way, her fingers running across Sam’s scalp and behind his neck. Was this a massage? She needed to rub a lot harder.

“Hi Sam, I’m Lydia. Do you remember what happened?”

“What happened when? Who are you?”

“My name’s Lydia. I’m a paramedic. You were hit in the head by a bat—”

“You got bashed,” Nik interrupted, voice strident. Lydia smiled at him soothingly.

“What? I what? Why would I get hit by a bat?” Sam asked her, frowning. His brows rubbed against the thing across the forehead. “Why am I tied down?”

“We had to make sure you didn’t move.”

Sam closed one eye to focus on her. “What is going
on
?”

“I’m just making sure you’re all right. I’m going to check your pupils now.” She was flicking a light on and off in his peripheral vision.

“What are you going to—gah!” She stabbed him in the eye with the laser light thingy, then did the other one. “Nik! Jurgen! Help!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s a paramedic.” He felt Nik petting his hand.

“I’m all done,” she soothed.

“Fuck,” Sam muttered. Something about the laser dagger had set off a pounding in his head. It got worse with each beat. “Warn a guy before you stab him in the eye.” A bluish-black blob filled his sight. “Are my eyes open?”

“Your vision will come back in a few seconds.”

Somehow, Sam thought someone who’d just blinded him would be more sympathetic. He didn’t like her much. He tried to throw her a dirty look, but since he
couldn’t see her
he didn’t know if it hit its mark.

She followed up the maiming of his eyes by poking around his head some more, meanwhile asking him questions.

“Do you know your name?”

She’d just used it, could she really not remember? “It’s Sam,” he said clearly. He tried to lift his head and his headache ratcheted up another notch when the thing around his forehead pulled him back.

“Good job.” What was this, kindergarten? “Do you know what year it is?”

Oh for God’s sake, was this necessary right now? “Yes, it’s, um . . . Nik, what’s the date?”

Nik didn’t answer, but the woman didn’t ask him any more questions, so Sam dropped it. “Fuck, my head hurts,” he moaned.

“I’m going to give you something for that,” the woman said. She started fiddling with the nail in his arm.

“I don’t think aspirin will be enough,” Sam told her.

“Oh, it’s going to be a
little
stronger than aspirin. You enjoy your trip in la-la-land.”

“Wait!” Nik screeched. “You’re giving him drugs? I thought you weren’t supposed to do that with head injuries.”

She was giving him drugs? He didn’t know drug dealers made deliveries. Was it an extra charge?

“Nikky, let her do her job,” Jurgen said.

“That’s a common misconception. In most East Coast protocols you can’t, but on the West Coast we’re much more aggressive with drugs.”