Question Mark (34 page)

He couldn’t control Mark. He couldn’t control their relationship. All Zane knew was that he loved this man and if he wanted to keep from being a hypocrite talking out of both sides of his mouth, then he needed to stop punishing him.

Mark flew all the way to England the very next morning after the thing with Christian. To do that, he’d had to confess what happened to his parents and probably his brothers, too. And that wasn’t even the beginning of all the people Mark had to humble himself in front of just to get to Zane, where he prostrated himself completely.

The only response Zane had was telling Mark he wasn’t  low enough yet. Zane had used sex as a weapon to show his displeasure and if that didn’t have resentful bitch written all over it, then it was damn close. He wasn’t happy about Mark kissing Christian or
whatever
happened. He did believe the kid initiated it and he could even believe Mark was pushing Christian away when the pictures were taken. But this vindictive and very wounded part of him wanted a few more apologies. A little more groveling.

It was such an awful way to treat a person he cared about and it didn’t speak highly of Zane’s ability to give and take. He could choose to trust Mark and see what happened, or he could let him go. There was no denying that on days like this one, the first person he wanted at his side was Mark; the ball was really in Zane’s court now. He could either accept Mark was sincere and be happy, or he could make each moment they had with one another endless with his skepticism.

Put that way, it was an easy choice. As his mind begged him not to be stupid and thrust himself out in the open to be trampled, he tilted Mark’s chin up gently.

Everybody has their own shit.

Mark’s face revealed his fear and longing, that open vulnerability apparent as he waited for Zane to respond. Brushing a thumb over Mark’s bottom lip, Zane exhaled long and slow. “It’s over and done,” he murmured, lowering his mouth until his lips were gently skimming over Mark’s. “I want to be with you. We have to go easy on each other, but I
am
happy with you.”

“Really?” Mark’s voice hitched.

Zane knew that they were garnering more and more attention, but he shrugged the thought away as he kissed Mark once, twice, three times, not one of the kisses meeting the need Zane had to crush his mouth on Mark’s and really prove himself.

Pulling away reluctantly, he ran his fingers gently down Mark’s cheek. “I’ve got to get back to work. Are you okay here? Do you need someone to take you to my trailer?”

Mark seemed stuck, as though he wasn’t sure everything was really okay. The movie set wasn’t the place to dig into a conversation about it, so Zane was purposely imposing the distance. Stories like this got around and he still liked his private life to stay private.

Mark glanced over Zane’s shoulder at the set and his eyes danced away. “I can’t watch this scene again,” he almost whispered. “It’s too…”

“I know. I get it.” And Zane did. “Later on Bill is showing up for some scenes we have on the air field. If you want to hang out in my trailer until then, I can have someone come grab you and bring you back out. He’d like to meet you.”

Zane set up a ride for Mark back to his trailer, but he couldn’t stick around to see him off. As he walked towards where hair and makeup were waiting to get their hands on him again, he looked at Mark over his shoulder.

His man was leaning against the side of the cart, arms over his chest and face pensive. His eyes were still on Zane, doubt and hope mingling in his stare. Zane wished he could tell him to relax, but the same nerves were crippling him.

***

It was midnight, Bakersfield time, and Mark was facing his executioner and calling Reid. The phone rang three times before his brother picked up sounding mighty reluctant.

“What’s up?” Reid grumbled.

“You’re mad too, huh?”

“Nah.”

“Really? ‘Cause you sound mad,” Mark intoned, picking at the small table top in Zane’s trailer. “Are you sure you don’t have anything to say to me about it?”

Reid laughed, but it didn’t sound happy. “I could say all sorts of things, but mom told me—after she yelled at you—that if I didn’t have something supportive to say, then I wasn’t supposed to say anything at all. Forgive me for being
silent
.”

“I can take it.”

“You can? Oh! Okay,” he hissed sarcastically. “You’re a pansy ass and you did
exactly
what dad and Sean told you not to do. If mom asks, tell her I meant that in the most supportive way possible.”

Mark let his head fall to the tabletop where his breath fogged up the surface. “I admit that I’m a pansy ass.”

“We’ve reached common ground then. Maybe we’ll make it past this, you giant puss.”

Mark let out an embarrassed groan. “You’re not even a little bit on my side?”

There was a loud bang in the background and Reid cursed. A smattering of voices followed the bang and Mark realized Reid was on the night shift between calls. “Sorry,” Reid snapped. “I knocked over the fucking trash can. What were we talking about—oh, right, whether I’m on your side or not.”

“Well?”

“Just because I think you acted like a slut doesn’t mean I’m not on your side. I feel bad for Zane. I was so ready to give
him
hell for doing something to
you
, so I’m a teensy-tiny bit amazed that it ended up being your gay ass that hung him out to dry.”

Mark sat up and glared at his phone before snapping it back to his ear. “I didn’t kiss Christian,
he
kissed
me
! How many times do I have to say that? I didn’t hang Zane out to dry.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw him fluttering in the breeze. And, I may not know what it’s like to get all hot and sweaty over a dude and his assorted male parts, but I know what guys are like and you put yourself in that position to be kissed, man. This Christian dude’s a wanker.”

“He’s not a wanker, he’s just screwed up right now—okay, he is a little bit of a wanker, but I know he’s sorry for what happened.”

“Real sweet of him,” Reid dead-panned. From the new set of noises Mark was hearing in the background, it sounded like Reid was replenishing his aid kits. Rattles and snaps and clasps and plastic squeaks were loud over the line. “So what’s your deal then? You’re in England now and begging for another chance to lick Zane’s balls, or…?”

“God, Reid!” Mark burst out, his face reddening. “I’ve apologized through the nose on this one; you don’t have to be such a dick about it.”

“Yeah, I do.”
Snap! Rattle!
“If you want to hear something super sweet, call mom. But, she’s still mad at you, too. Dad is still in his mumbling phase. No one understands what he’s saying about you, but I don’t think it’s good. I owe you at least two more dick-wad comments before we can move on.”

“Can we get them out of the way now, then?” Mark cried in exasperation.

“No.”
Rattle!

“Fine.”

“So answer my question,” Reid pushed.

“Yes,” Mark groaned. “I’m in England. Got in last night. Zane’s manager set it up so I could get on set and I waited for him in his trailer.”

“How big’s his trailer?”

“Focus!”

“Whatever. So, did he smack you? Bend you over a table and show you who’s boss?”

Mark nearly slid off of his chair at how close his brother was to the truth. And maybe Zane hadn’t asked Mark who was boss, but it was obvious who was in control last night.

“He was pretty pissed. He didn’t say too much at first, then bawled me out. Called me on my bullshit.”

“Really?”

“Try to tone down the happiness, please. It’s been really hard trying to convince him that I never wanted that thing with Christian to happen. I care about Zane.”

All the background noises paused. “How much do you care about him?”

“Enough that I don’t even mind that I lost my job over our relationship anymore. Enough that I asked dad and mom to front me the money for a plane ticket so I could still pay my rent. Enough that I endured all the photographers and the people staring at me in the airports just so I could get over here and plead with him to believe me.”

“That’s a lot of words that don’t directly answer the question.”

“I care about him a lot…” Mark sighed. “More than…”

“This guy Christian?” Reid asked, the teasing big brother absent from his voice. “More than Rafe?”

Mark took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Both. More than both. I-I think I’m in love with him.” He paused. “It happened fast, but all I know is that I want him even if it means I have to endure more humiliation to prove it to him. I made a shitty mistake and I wish I hadn’t, but if I got anything out of it, it’s that I want to be with Zane.”

Reid let out a little laugh. “Good. Awesome, Mark. Just try not to—” A radio crackled and Reid cut off. “Listen man, I gotta run out on another call. Keep your dick in your pants and your hands to yourself!”

Mark didn’t get to say goodbye as Reid hung up on him. He rested his head on his arms again. That was one brother out of the way. Sean would be worse, but in more of a parental
I’m so disappointed in you!
way. It had to be done. Mark had been ignoring their calls and he knew delaying punishment from his brothers never worked out well.

He punched in Sean’s number and waited. Two rings later and his brother nearly hollered: “Marky! How many times did I tell you not to fucking panic?!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

After a week crammed full of meetings with network executives from ESPN, committee members, and what seemed like every single employee of the venue where the damn cheer competition would be held, Christian was through with Albuquerque. He’d be back in a month for the actual event—another week-long stay—but the only thing he had to look forward to about the visit was the continental breakfast in the lobby. Mark wasn’t likely to be around for another meet-up and even if he were, Christian knew it wouldn’t happen.

Mark did exactly as Christian figured he would and flew to England. Not only had Christian seen the tabloid shots on the internet and at a magazine stand, but a couple of aggressive little journalists brought it up any chance they got. He mostly ignored them. He was very good at ignoring things he didn’t want to see/hear/think/know about.

Christian
knew
Mark wasn’t ever going to fall for him. That was okay. Yet, at the same time, Mark was
still
there under his skin, taking up space and making Christian itch to do something. Head shrinks would probably say it wasn’t so much Mark that he was messed up about, but how Mark made him feel. Well, Christian had a little song for them. The first verse was
Bullshit
and the chorus was
Fuck You
.

The bad part—and it was surprisingly bad, Christian realized—was how low he was running on friends. Now would be the perfect time to have someone in his life who gave a shit about him, whether he was gay or not. But, looking left and looking right, Christian wasn’t finding any such thing. And don’t get him fucking started on his family.

He hadn’t seen his dad since he was thirteen and had only heard from him twice in all that time so the jackass could “borrow” money. Christian’s mom was an overworked, conservative, laundromat attendant from Oakland and she would’ve thrown a party once all of her kids left home if she could’ve gotten away with it. His brother was a Lutheran Minister and mom’s favorite—big no on calling him—and his sister left home and moved to Maine to get away from the family. She was an elementary school teacher and they butted heads on most every topic he could think of. He wasn’t about to throw “gayness” on the table for discussion.

Christian made a quick call to see if he could still crash on that co-worker/friend’s couch when he got home. He found out he could, though the guy was quick about getting off the line. Good thing Christian had another apartment lined up already even if the move-in date was a week from now.

Staring at his phone, he debated calling Mark again. He could leave his thirtieth message. Maybe he’d sing on this one just to irritate him.
You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling
would be perfect. Christian was about to do it because the idea cracked him up so much, but then he pictured Zane accidentally hearing the message through some terrible set of circumstances and the idea ceased to be funny. In spite of his “devil-may-care” persona, Christian wished Mark happiness and he hoped to one day
talk
to him again, so it was best not to tempt fate.

He didn’t know what made him take out that number still folded up in his wallet. As usual, he pressed the napkin to his lips, a habit that Kat had witnessed, to his utter embarrassment, but he was unable to stop. Now, it was as if going through this ritual enough would give him another chance to do things over. He might not like dealing with repercussions in his life, but in a way, Christian did this as penance. He used to spend a lot of time wondering if Kevin ever thought of him. Was he disappointed that Christian never called? Was his number the same? Doubtful.