Essence of Time (6 page)

“Okay, relax. Have you tried Evan?“

She sighed. “Of course. Why do you thing I am tracking you down in France? This is not like him.”

“Okay, let me, um…” He wasn’t even sure what he could do and that made him feel worse. “I’ll try him. I’ll find him Suze, don’t worry.”

René leaned to nip at Rob’s neck, making his skin pebble but he frowned and walked into the living room, the small phone stuck to his ear. It took three tries but finally, “Hello? Frietag? That you?” Evan’s voice sounded breathless.

“Yeah. Where’s our boy?”

“I’ve been trying to call you.” Rob’s heart pounded. He sank into the overstuffed couch as René sat across from him, concern filling his large, dark eyes. “I had to take him to the ER.”

“What happened?”

Rob heard muffled sounds as if Evan had covered the phone with his hand. Then he returned. “Uh, not sure actually. I know he had big plans for Jenna that included an engagement ring but…um…hang on.”

Rob tapped his foot and waited. His skin crawled with anxiety. Finally, Evan spoke again. “Okay. They’re releasing him with me. He had to get his stomach pumped.”

Rob leapt up. “What the fuck?” He started pacing, already working through the logistics of getting home. “Why?”

“Well, they thought he’d taken something. Turns out he hadn’t. Well, other than two bottles of Maker’s.”

“Jesus,” Rob leaned against the window, took in the surreal view of the Eiffel Tower as René put hands on his shoulders. There was more noise through the phone lines. Rob leaned back into René’s body, let the man soothe some of the tension out of him. “Here,” Evan said. “You talk to him.”

“Wait, I…”

But the next sound he heard was Jack. “Hey.”

Rob winced at the sound of his friend’s rough voice. “Hey yourself, drama king. What the hell is going on over there?”

“Oh, I apparently OD’ed on bourbon.” The silence lasted way too long to be considered comfortable, but Rob didn’t know what to say. “She, uh, said no.”

“And that’s cause for suicide by corn liquor? Seriously?” Rob put a shaking hand on the table, his sudden need to see his friend, to be there for him overwhelming him.

“Fuck you.”

“Jack, talk to me.”

“She’s a god damned slut, okay? I thought we had something meaningful. The whole Dom/sub thing you know? Screw it. I obviously was kidding myself. I don’t know. I snapped. It won’t happen again, trust me.”

“Relax. I’m sorry. Do you need me to come…?” Rob realized he would do it, if asked.

Jack cut him off. “No, no. I’m working for my dad this summer one more time and part time in the title company office. I need the cash more than I need the lawyering experience. Living in an apartment. It’s all good. I’m…I’ll be fine.”

Rob heard the Jack he once knew returning with a vengeance. “I’ll be back in the states, um,” he looked up at the ceiling as René’s lips landed on his neck. “I don’t know exactly. But soon.”

“Chicago, right?”

Rob had lined up a job for himself already, through the school’s placement program, as sous chef downtown at one of the prestigious hotel restaurants, but the last thing he wanted was to leave France. He’d even toyed with cancelling the job. Staying there forever, in a sort of limbo fairytale, one that did not involve borrowed time, which was so much a part of his life in the States. “Yeah. Eventually.” He put his hand on René’s pulled it to his lips. “Call me, anytime. Okay? I mean it. And…I’m sorry about Jenna.”

“Fucking bitch.” His friend growled and then hung up. Rob sighed and dropped back onto the couch. René joined him, kissing him deeply, and soon he forgot everything but the man in his arms.

****

Rob stared at his hands. His long, flour-covered fingers shook. He curled them into fists and tried to force the memory of the ugly argument he’d had with René into the back of his mind. Tried to focus on the present. The doctor’s appointment he had in a few hours. The fucking bread dough he was beating into submission at the job he’d taken in desperation after receiving his degree and passing on the Chicago sous chef gig.
Why? What in the hell made him think he should stay here? Be in love?
The compulsion to walk out, jump in a taxi headed straight for the airport and catch the first flight home, nearly overwhelmed him.

He nearly leapt a mile when he felt René’s hands on his shoulders. “Relax,” he whispered near Rob's ear. Rob frowned and ignored him. He had to get back home. The crisis with his old friend had made him unhappy, but worse, it made him homesick. He needed to get out of the surreal place, away from René, far away from all of it.

“You belong here, with me.” The man had insisted the night before when Rob told him he’d decided to move back three months early; which meant he left in two days. “You know you do.” They’d stared at each other over the dinner table. Rob had nearly wavered but he had decided that this was not where he belonged.

“I don’t love you.” He’d stated, standing, hoping it sounded like he meant it, because he wasn’t really sure that he did. However, he did know he had to get back to his real life. It was time to pick back up the reigns of borrowed time. He didn’t deserve to be this happy.

René appraised him a moment, sipping his wine. Using the silence to speak for him. Rob swallowed, took a step toward the man who’d taught him so much about himself. Running a hand down René’s rough jaw, cupping his chin and making him turn so they were face to face. Rob sighed, let himself be drawn into an embrace as René stood and held him close, lips on his forehead, both cheeks, then lingering over Rob’s lips, firm and meaningful. Just as Rob was about to let himself be convinced to stay, René released him, stepped away. “
Adieu
lovely Robert.” He ran his fingers through Rob’s now long hair. “My fair one.” He muttered, keeping his hand on Rob’s face. “You are so sad, all the time. I liked making you happy.” Then he turned and left the flat.

Chapter Five

“Are you sure about this?” Rob eyed his friend’s tall, newly muscled frame.  Jack shrugged into a dress jacket, shot his cuffs, ran a hand through his still wet, thick black hair. He’d finally convinced Rob to accompany him to “the club” in Detroit, and Rob was both nervous and skeptical about the whole thing.

He’d arrived at Jack’s doorstep two days after René walked out of his life. Armed with the sum total of his possessions in two suitcases and a case of beer. The look on his friend’s face went beyond surprise. He had gripped Rob’s shoulders and pulled him in for a giant hug. Rob knew he’d done the right thing at least once in his life.

The summer had passed in a haze of booze and remorse. Between the two of them they’d easily qualify for sad-sack, pussy-whipped Men of The Year award. By the sixth week, Rob was completely sick of the word “Jenna.” Turns out the woman had allowed herself to be “collared,” where she had declared to the world that she was Jack’s official submissive and unavailable to anyone else, no questions asked. Turned out, she didn’t quite see it that way. By the time she and Jack had declared themselves official Dom/sub, she’d already had a wandering eye. A couple of his roommates at the large house he shared with Evan Adams had pulled a double on her, the week before graduation, while Jack was back in Ann Arbor interviewing at a title company for his first official job as an attorney.

Since Rob had been back, the better part of their time while not at work had been spent in repeatedly similar, lame conversations.  

“So, what part of “committed” did she not get man?” Rob handed Jack another beer. They’d latched on to some craft-brewed products out of Kalamazoo that summer and drank the shit out of them.

“Don’t know exactly. What I do know is that I obviously had no idea how to be her Dom. She played me. Big time.” Jack downed the beer and reached for another. Rob got up to check the dinner he’d made for them in the miniscule kitchen. They both had money to burn and so ate and drank very well.  Rob got to practice all the skills he’d learned with prime cuts of meat, vegetables, and deserts. He returned, sat and stared at his friend.

“How did you find out?”

Jack glared at him, then sighed. “She told me. She was rather proud actually. Fucking cunt.” Jack’s brows furrowed. Rob sighed, putting a hand on his friend’s knee. “I was such a pussy. I swear on my mother’s grave I will never, ever let that happen again.”

“All women aren’t that way, you know.” Rob insisted.

“Yes. They are. Pass me a beer.”

Rob handed one over. “No they are not.”

Jack shot him a significant look. “One word my friend: Christine.”

Robs lifted his brown bottle. “Two words: Fuck you.”

“I rest my case.”

They spent nights sitting side by side watching either ESPN Sportscenter or a live baseball or soccer game, sipping and contemplating themselves. “She laughed at me. Fucking giggled and stared at the fucking ring I had bought like it was roadkill.” Rob let Jack go on, “then proceeds to take off her necklace, hand it to me and describe in full detail how she got DP’ed by my roommates downstairs. Full fucking detail, dude. Really throws cold water on a man’s brain, you know?” He put a hand on Rob’s leg. Rob flinched, moving away slightly.

“I should tell you something.” He muttered around his bottle realizing they were both drunk enough to handle this little moment of truth. As Jack leaned back, putting both arms across the back of the couch, Rob let a sense of peace settle over him. He was completely comfortable with the man, his friend, his compatriot, the guy he’d seen more up close and personal than any “friend” had a right to. It was okay. “I’m bi. I mean, in France, I…um…”

Jack threw his head back and laughed until tears roll down his face. Rob gulped and finished his umpteenth beer. The room spun.  “My man.” He slapped Rob’s knee, got up and made his wobbly way to the bathroom. Returning, zipping up, he grinned at Rob who still sat, frozen in place, on the couch. “I knew that already. It’s cool. You are my brother. The end. Be happy, that’s all I want for you. Well, that, and you helping me land more pussy. You still okay with that?” He flopped back down on the couch, anger settling over his handsome features again. “Fucking bitch. C’mon let’s eat that gourmet whatever the hell it is that smells so damn good and hit the town!”

Rob shook his head to clear it from that memory, stood and pulled a soft leather belt through the loops of his trousers. The club apparently had a dress code and even though he was going as an “observer” tonight, as Jack’s special guest, he had no idea what to expect. Less than no idea actually, “So, what am I supposed to do anyway? Watch you spank some chick to get her off?”

Jack threw him an irritated look. Rob gave him a “what the fuck?” expression back. “No. I explained it to you. You and Kyle will merely observe the early selection. Where the people—women mostly—are there in various stages of moderate restraint, and the potential Doms, like me, present ourselves to them. I usually spot one I like right away, compel her to pick me. But at the end of the night, it is the submissive’s call who gets to play.” He adjusted his tie once more. “I’ve never gone without at this place I assure you.”

Rob rolled his eyes and found his soft camel-hair jacket, smoothed his newly cut hair back and stared at himself a minute. How far he’d come. He clenched his fists, let himself recall last week’s clean bill of health and sent out a quick “up yours” to the cancer librarian. His book was still not due apparently. Might as well jump into this shit with both feet. “What if I want to participate?”

“You can’t.” Jack stalked out, downed a huge glass of water. “You haven’t been drinking have you?”

“No. You told me not to.”

“Okay, good.” The guy looked a little nervous. Rob smiled at him.

“Relax my brother. It’s cool. I’m not making fun of you or this…kink you’ve chosen.” Jack glared at him.

“I don’t know anymore.” He sank into a kitchen chair, the light fading from his eyes. “I mean, I loved it. Fucking ate it up. But since Jenna.” He ran a hand over his face, through his hair. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s a total buzz, still. I just… “ He stood, buttoned his jacket and grabbed his keys. “Let’s go. We’re gonna be late.”

Rob realized at that moment how much his friend wished he, Rob, would say “no, let’s go to a bar instead," but he didn’t. He was curious. And Jack had to figure out that it was not his thing anymore on his own.

The Suite was just that: A giant, two-story penthouse in a decrepit looking downtown Detroit building with a killer view of the Detroit River and of Canada. Jack eased his truck into an underground parking spot and the two of them got into a creaky, old-fashioned elevator. The mirror across from them reflected back a couple of very well-dressed, successful-looking handsome men in their prime. Light and dark, tall, compelling—no wonder they’d scored so much in college. Rob smiled and Jack gave him a thumbs-up as the elevator rose, slowly to the topmost floors.

The doors parted and Rob’s world changed. The foyer was kitted out like a ritzy hotel lobby with tasteful fresh flowers, low-slung leather furniture, and expensive Turkish carpets. It was quiet, and smelled like a heady combination of vanilla, leather and something Rob couldn’t quite place but would come to forever associate with the man who strode in, his dark face split in a huge grin at the sight of Jack.

“My superstar,” he gripped Jack’s hand. Clad in a soft grey, three-piece suit, the guy was, in a word, gigantic. He towered over Rob and Jack who were each well over six feet tall. He wore his expensive-looking wool hand-tailored suit like a glove. His skin was the color of rich, hot chocolate, a milky light brown, with an improbable light dusting of what seemed to be freckles across the bridge of his nose. His close-cropped hair was…Rob squinted in the subtle lighting…a reddish shade of brown but tight, curly. The hand he extended to Rob was huge. Rob had never felt more intimidated and, he squirmed a little, never more fucking turned on in his entire life. Not even Christine had had this smack-you-upside-the-head affect on him. “I’m Kyle Summerlin. Welcome to The Suite. I’m pleased to meet you,” his odd, gray-hazel eyes met Rob’s and held them. The moment stretched out, way out. Jack cleared his throat to snap Rob back to the present. He felt blood rush to his face, and realized he had not let go of Kyle’s hand.