Chance to Be King (11 page)

* * * *

When he got back downstairs Mark had gone. Thomas was pouring out juice and fresh coffee. He looked over his shoulder as Eric entered and motioned him to the table.

"Just in time," he said, offering him the juice.

Eric said nothing but a "Thank you," and for a few minutes they ate in silence, although he was aware of the increasingly puzzled looks Thomas cast his way every few minutes.

They had finished breakfast and were downing the last of the coffee when Thomas broke the silence. "Is something wrong?" His tone was a mixture of hesitance and defensiveness.

Eric looked at him steadily. "You tell me."

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong. At least not on my part." But there was a deep flush coloring his neck and cheeks and he dropped his eyes to stare at the table.

"I don't know what the problem is, Thomas, but I do know whatever is going on has nothing to do with me. You knew the name Mark mentioned. Whatever it is, it's to do with you, not me."

Eric watched as a range of emotions crossed Thomas' face: denial, anger, fear. What was he so scared about? Eventually Thomas sighed and dropped his head in his hands. Eric leaned forward and placed a large hand on Thomas' head, stroking his hair gently.

"I can't help unless you tell me what's going on, Thomas."

Thomas raised his head. "You can't help at all." His face was blank, expressionless, and somehow that hurt more than the words. Eric had expected, well, something… gratitude perhaps? Not this cold impersonal demeanor.

Stung, Eric pulled his hand away. "Maybe I can't. Should I leave and let you and Mark deal with it?"

There was no answer. Which was its own answer, he guessed. Eric pushed his chair back and stood up. "We'll be out of your hair as soon as I can arrange for the car. Probably this afternoon."

Thomas stood up as well. "If that's what you want," he said as he started to clear the table.

What he wanted? What Eric wanted was to find out what the hell happened since they left the ruined cottage because, honestly, he didn't have a clue. What he wanted was to pull Thomas into his arms and not let him go until he'd told him everything. But Thomas' back was rigid and he didn't know what to do or say beyond, "I've got some phone calls to make."

He left the kitchen, blinking rapidly against the sudden prickling in his eyes, and went upstairs, sinking down onto his own bed and staring at his cell. There was nothing he could do beyond phoning his agent and asking for a rental to be delivered today so he could get back to LA.

* * * *

It was nearly midday before Eric finished making his calls. It wouldn't have taken so long except he kept staring at the door, willing Thomas to be on the other side, and then losing track of the conversation.

He'd decided to finish his vacation down in San Antonio for a couple of weeks, which necessitated a painful conversation with his mother who couldn't work out why Eric was running away from 'that lovely boy'. In the end Eric figured it was more the hurt in his voice that convinced his mom to stop asking questions.

Sarah, his agent, had listened to his request for a rental and agreed one would be with him by two o'clock. She'd thankfully asked no questions beyond the minimum but as they were saying goodbye she said, "Want me to hang him up by his balls?"

Eric made a noise, one somewhere between a sob and a snort. "Yes, please."

 

"Consider it done. Hang in there, Eric. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Thanks," he whispered as he hung up. He didn't have to say anything more. Sarah protected her clients fiercely and Eric was one of her favorites. Thomas should count himself thankful he didn't live and work in LA. Men had been exiled for lesser offences.

He had nothing to pack. The clothes Thomas had provided were set on the bed in a neat pile. All that was left was to wait for the car and pick up the dogs. Eric couldn't face being stuck in his room for another couple of hours so he went downstairs to the kitchen.

It was empty apart from Toby and Millie, who were sleeping off their morning run by the range. They were gonna hate him for the long drive to Texas; they'd been happy here, too. Eric blinked hard against the threatened prickle of tears.

There was still a pot of coffee which felt warm to the touch. Eric poured himself a cup and sat back down at the table. Sipping at the lukewarm drink, he pondered on how they'd gone from loving to leaving in one conversation. Part of him was astonished at the depth of his hurt. After all, he'd only known Thomas for a week. It was hardly what you'd call a long-term relationship, but the other half of him acknowledged that Thomas had rapidly become more than just a holiday flirtation. He pushed away the thought that Thomas was 'the one'. He snorted. That was obviously never going to be.

"Is there any left?"

Eric looked up to see Thomas sitting opposite him. Damn, but the man looked as wrecked as he did. He gestured to the pot. "Help yourself."

Thomas grimaced as he swallowed the coffee, by now barely more than tepid. "I'll make a fresh pot."

"Don't bother on my account. I'll be gone in…" Eric checked the clock, "an hour."

"So soon?" Thomas looked stricken. "Don't feel you have to go. Please, Eric." His voice was strained but Eric was unforgiving.

"I thought that's what you wanted." He watched Thomas flinch against the accusation.

"I never said I wanted you to go."
"You didn't ask me to stay either!" Eric retorted.

Thomas banged down fresh mugs. "You got up and told me you were going. What was I expected to say?"
Eric snorted. "How about 'don't go'?"

He watched as Thomas opened his mouth to retort but then the fight seemed to drain out of him and he collapsed back into the chair. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I don't want you to leave like this." He was staring at Eric, his eyes wide and pleading.

Eric was once again struck by how beautiful Thomas was and just how much it would hurt to walk out of that door. "Tell me who Simon Wayward is."

Thomas shook his head. "No, I don't want you to get involved."

 

Again, Eric snorted. "It's a little late for that. I'm already involved. He tried to kill me, remember?"

"We don't know that." Thomas argued as he poured out fresh coffee for both of them. "It could still be a coincidence."

Eric accepted the coffee and took a sip, appreciating the warmth after the last cup and using the action as a delaying tactic while he collected his thoughts. He wasn't naturally argumentative but neither was he going to ignore some shit just because Thomas seemed to have a closet full of issues. The problem was trying to decide how to deal with them. He'd have to tread cautiously if he was to avoid alienating Thomas altogether.

Thomas was drinking his coffee and avoiding Eric's eyes. The truth was, Eric realized, Thomas was freaking about something and pushing him away while trying to cling on at the same time. He wondered when Thomas last had someone to lean on. Not for a while, it seemed.

"Thing is," Eric mused out loud, "As I see it, I'm in a far more vulnerable position than you are." Thomas raised his head, a question in his eyes. Eric didn't give him a chance to interrupt as he continued, "This week you've cleared up my piss, my vomit and, astonishingly, still wanted mindblowing sex with a closeted gay actor." Thomas' lips twitched but he didn't say anything. Eric leaned over the table and encircled Thomas' hands that were holding the coffee cup with his own. "You could destroy my career with one phone call."

"I'd never do that," Thomas denied.

"And I won't judge you for something that happened in the past," Eric asserted quietly. "But neither am I going to stay here in possible danger when I don't know all the facts."

Thomas tried to pull his hands away but Eric just held on and waited while he processed everything Eric had just said. Thomas' eyes were amazingly expressive when he was thinking; every emotion flickered in those blue depths.

"Simon Wayward?" Eric asked again.

 

"He was the brother of Laura; an eighteen year old killed by a drunk driver eleven years ago." "Was it you driving?" God, Eric wasn't sure he could remain objective about the death of a teenager; he had a little sister, after all.

Thomas gave him a look which said he knew exactly what Eric was thinking. "No, not me. I wasn't the driver."

"I don't get it. Why is Wayward targeting you?" "I was in the car. The father of a friend of mine was driving."

 

"But—"

Thomas pushed back his chair impatiently, and for one heart-stopping moment Eric thought Thomas was going to walk out, but instead he grabbed the coffee pot. "Shit. Look, I'll tell you what happened. Just give me a minute."

Eric excused himself to use the bathroom. When he got back to the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee and two whiskeys sat on the table. Thomas was sitting back in his chair. He didn't seem to notice Eric immediately, and Eric watched him gently swirl the golden liquid in one of the glasses. His eyes were unfocused, lost in painful memories. Eric just wanted to take Thomas into his arms and make love to him until the pain bled away. Taking a deep breath, Eric sat back down and waited.

Thomas gave him a tired smile. "You could just leave and forget all about this."

"If I walk out now, will you forget me?" "No."

"Well, then." That settled, Eric took a chug of his whiskey. It burned a pleasurable path down to his stomach and he had the sinking feeling he would need more than one to get through the day.

"Twelve years ago my dad's job got transferred to the UK. Up to then if my dad had to go abroad Mom would stay here with us, but this time she wanted to go with him. My sister was thirteen so she was, naturally, going to go with them. My brother had already gone to college. I was sixteen, I wanted to finish high school and go to college, not to London, and it was agreed I'd stay with a friend and his parents until high school finished.

"Only, just before they left I got into some trouble, made myself unpopular with the locals and M… my friend's parents, and so Mom made me go with them."

M…? Mark?
Eric didn't interrupt but his mind was racing. There was definite history between the two men. He dragged his mind back to what Thomas was saying.

"We stayed in London until we could buy a house. I really enjoyed it. I was young, there was a good nightlife, and it was easy to get into pubs and clubs as long as you looked eighteen. I made friends quickly." He looked up at Eric, a genuine smile on his face as he remembered happier times.

"I was able to go to gay clubs and pubs for the first time in my life without worrying about what my neighbors were saying. I went to school but didn't make much of an effort. I'd met a boy, Kes, and we started a band. He was the frontman; he was such a fucking showoff."

Eric wasn't the jealous type, he really wasn't. "Were you and Kes lovers?"

Thomas shook his head. "He was an ass and tits man. He liked the 'birds' as he called them. But it didn't bother him that I was gay. We just carved up the audience between us. We were very, very busy." A soft smile played across his lips as he remembered the past.

"I'll bet!" Eric really needed to move on. "So what happened with Laura?" He nodded as Thomas offered him another shot of whiskey. So maybe Thomas had a whole sexual history he didn't know about. Well, of course he did; Thomas was twentyeight, four years older than him. It wasn't like Eric didn't have his own past.

Thomas swallowed his whiskey in one gulp, not even blinking as it went down. "The band was playing in some small crappy clubs where the fact that I was underage didn't cause a problem as long as we kept our mouths shut. Mom and Dad were dealing with living in a new country and teenage daughter tantrums. They were just pleased I'd made friends and wasn't moping about. Guess they didn't ask enough questions.

"We had this one gig —miles from anywhere— and we couldn't all fit into the van, so Kes' dad drove him and me to the club. Only Kes was late and we ended up leaving two hours later than we'd intended. John, Kes' dad, was really pissed at Kes because he was out drinking with his friends and we had to haul him outta the pub when Kes was finally ready.

"Laura was driving home from work. John didn't know the road and swung around a corner too fast. He hit her car on the driver's side…" Thomas was lost in the pain of the memory, his huge eyes filled with anguish.

"You saw the accident?"

Thomas shook his head. "Kes and I were asleep in the back. We'd been playing the night before and then at a party all night. We were totally
exhausted. We only woke up when we were thrown forward. Fortunately we were both wearing seatbelts."

"But it was just an accident, right? He didn't mean to hit her." It was tragic but it was a stupid mistake, nothing more.

"A girl died, 'Ric, and John had been drinking." Thomas' tone was sharper than he'd probably intended but it stung anyway.

"I know but…"

Thomas went on as if he hadn't spoken. Eric had the feeling he just had to get it out of his system. "That wasn't the worst of it. Laura was trapped in the car. John went to find a phone and Kes and I stayed with Laura. She was conscious initially and I sat with her until the ambulance arrived, talking to her and holding her hand. She was having trouble breathing and just got drowsier. I tried to keep her awake but she died just as the police and ambulance turned up."

"God, Thomas…"

Thomas' hand reached out unconsciously. Eric took it in both hands, trying to give him comfort as he relived the moment of Laura's death.

"What happened to Kes' dad? You said he'd been drinking before you set out?"

"Yeah…" Thomas was pouring out another shot. "You aiming to get hammered this afternoon?"

"Got a problem with that?" The tone was more defeated than defensive and it broke Eric's heart. Eric shook his head. "Nope, was just checking. I'll get you to the john when you're ready to puke."

Thomas swallowed it down and poured another one. "He was prosecuted and spent three years in prison. It should have been six but he got let out for good behavior."

"So why is Wayward going after you?"

 

"At the trial he didn't think he got justice for his sister. He made threats against all of us." Thomas sipped at the whiskey this time.