Physical Therapy (18 page)

“You
feel
good.
I
feel good when I"m with you. I tried to tell Mark, but he"s so angry.”

“I saw. I"m sorry about that. I really like him.”

“He likes you too; he"s just angry with me.” Ken caught my hips and pulled me close, not urgent now, just slow and sensual, kneading the muscles of my ass and undulating against me. “Can we save the whole exotic play thing for another time? You feel like cool water right now and I need to drink up.”

“You"ll have to untie my hands,” I said, removing them from around his neck.

He hesitated. “We can revisit this, yeah?”

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Z. A. Maxfield

I laughed and nodded. “Oh, hell yeah.”

He slipped the belt off my wrists and pulled me to him. “Even if I am a pity fuck, you always make it worth my while.” I didn"t call him on it. I didn"t stop him or try to argue with him. I let him have me. I melted into him and dripped over him and gave him everything I had to give. He knew it wasn"t pity. No matter what his parents or his brother said.
He had to know that.

He murmured, “Shit,” when he finally pushed his cock into me as if I hadn"t been begging for it—out loud—for quite a while. “Fucking feels like heaven.”

“C"mere.” I pulled him down to me for a punishing kiss, glad I was limber enough to do it. He positioned my arms, one by one above my head and took hold of my wrists in one of his hands, holding them down. I don"t know why but it added something, and
fuck
if I didn"t love the way his ass was rising and falling and his hips pushed against me as he slammed me into the mattress, all big man and sex and bunching muscles. I was breathless and shouting his name in minutes as he snapped his lower body into mine, triumphant, with a face like he"d knocked one out of the park, like sliding into home plate just under the tag.

He let my hands go and fell on me, and I wrapped my arms around him and cradled his head into my shoulder, rubbing my cheek against his hair. I could feel him whispering against my skin, but I couldn"t hear what he said. I didn"t figure I really needed to know.

Ken rolled us onto our sides, slipping out of me, pulling off and tossing the condom. He got up to pee, awkwardly moving across the room on his crutches, and a moment later came back with a damp towel over his arm to clean me up. I"d come all over my belly, and he swept the towel over my skin gently. Neither of us spoke. After a minute, he tossed the towel on the floor and wrapped himself around me from behind. I curled into him spoonwise and felt his lips brush the nape of my neck. It was as if he brushed them against my heart.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

His lips traced my ear as he shook his head, still saying nothing. I was tired and drifting when I heard him begin to breathe deeply and evenly behind me. I fell, moments later, into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * * * *

The following morning, I left the room at five thirty while Ken still slept. I left the key with him, figuring I could get a spare from the manager. When I got to Day-Use, this time walking along the road through fog that made it hard to see even fifty feet in front of me, I found Mark sitting on one of the cement blocks in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette. I walked straight up to him, snatched it out of his hand, and stomped it out on the ground.

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“Hey!” he said, all attitude. “You"ve got no right to do that.” He was going for the pack in his pocket when I caught his hand.

“Stop that. You"re an
athlete
. You"re out of your mind to smoke. Soccer players have to run like hell. You lose your wind, you lose your game.”

“Doesn"t fucking matter, does it? Anything could happen. Shit comes along and ruins
everything
. I don"t know how Ken can stand to even look at you.”

“He"s plenty bitter,” I told Mark as I sat down next to him on the block. “He just doesn"t hold his accident against me personally.” He dropped his head back and looked at the eastern horizon. The sun was trying to break through the fog, and every so often you could catch a glimpse of it, something light and shiny in all that gray.

“He spent the night with you again last night.”

I said nothing.

He turned to me with eyes full of pain. “Can"t you just leave him alone? Now he"s not going to care whether he ever gets better because he has you to look at him like he"s okay the way he is.”

“What was in that cigarette you were smoking?” I asked. “He"s not going to give up because I"m here to look at him…however I look at him. He"s a tough contender, and he"s getting back to his feet after a bad fucking fall. Ken is working every bit as hard as he can. What"s the matter with you?”

“
You’re
the matter. He talked about getting out there and trying to play ball again!

Now he"s buying a house here in St. Nacho"s because he"s into you, and it"s like he"s planning to grow old and die here. Like he wants to get a job at the Safeway bagging our groceries. Since you came, he"s ready to settle for a whole lot less than he"s ever really wanted.”

I thought about that. “You really think so?”

“Yeah.” He stared at me defiantly. “Look. I like you, you seem nice, but—”

“But not for your brother.” I wasn"t sure, but I thought maybe this approach, one that took him seriously, might have shocked him a little.

“Yeah.” He looked at me, expecting me to argue.

“I haven"t known your brother for very long,” I told him. “But he strikes me as obstinate. A little competitive.”

“He is.” Mark hunched up as if he remembered a painful ordeal. “Don"t ever tell him you know something he doesn"t know. And don"t ever play cards with him, and if you do, don"t ever win.”

“Seems like you know him pretty well.”

“I ought to; he"s my brother. He always has to win at everything. He always has to be first and best and biggest. One time, my mom said I might grow to be taller than him someday, and when she turned her back, he whispered that if I did, he"d snap me like a twig.”

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I laughed, but I hoped Ken was kidding at the time. “He sounds like a pretty determined guy.”

“That"s why I don"t understand what"s wrong with him. I don"t understand why he"s giving up on his dreams!” Mark was less agitated and maybe even softening toward me, treating me like someone with whom he could find answers rather than someone to blame. I hoped I could say something that would change his attitude toward his brother, because I thought Mark"s defection hurt Ken more than anything else had.

Just then a minivan drove into the parking lot and pulled into one of the spaces. A woman got out, and even if Mark hadn"t jerked guiltily, I would have recognized her as Ken"s mother the minute I saw her. She had Ken"s brown hair, although it was laced with silver, and his blue, blue eyes. She was pretty but carried extra weight that she didn"t need. She shut the car door with a bang and walked with confidence, wearing black jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with sheepskin boots. There was so much of her in Ken, I wondered if Ken"s father had any influence at all.

“I"m Ken"s mother, Lydia Ashton.” She seemed pleasant enough.

I wiped my damp hands on my trousers and stood. “Pleased to meet you,” I said.

She took my hand and shook it; her eyes were warm. I had no idea what to expect.

“I"m pleased to meet you too, Jordan,” she said. I had no warning that she had an agenda at all.

“I know it must have been shocking when Ken told you about me; I mean that he"s—”

“Gay?” she preempted me. “It wasn"t the best day of my life, but it wasn"t the worst.”

“I see.” By this time, I was bracing myself. Her calm demeanor was no longer fooling me. This woman hated me.

“I have no problem with Ken being gay, Jordan. I have a problem with him choosing an older man who has a prison record and needed to spend time in rehab. I have a problem with him choosing a drifter who has no family to speak of and only moved here because a couple of his friends work in the kitchen of a local gay bar.” I remained silent. For some reason, I couldn"t figure out what to do with my hands. I tucked them under my armpits, holding myself together by sheer force of will while she talked.

“I"m sure you probably understand exactly what I"m talking about. Ken hit rock bottom during his accident. He"s not the man he was. The man he was before the accident would not have chosen
you
, and I have to ask myself if you"re good enough for him now.”

“Mom,” Mark said, but she held up a hand.

“Cut him loose,” she told me. “I"m not here to be a bitch to you personally. I don"t even know you. If you really care about him, if you really see how it is with him, you"ll Physical Therapy

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understand that he can"t start something with you. He can"t give you anything. If he tries, it will come from the energy he needs right now to get well.”

“You make a pretty good argument.”

“It"s not an argument. It"s the truth. If you stay with him, when he gets well he won"t need you anymore anyway. You have to know that. You"ve probably experienced it. He"ll resent you because you saw him at his worst. When he does eventually fall for someone, it will be someone who didn"t see him when he was down.”

“Mom,” Mark began again. I could see his need to defend his brother—to defend me—at war with his own feelings on the subject. He saw what he perceived as injustice and stood up. I really,
really
liked this kid. “That"s not like Ken.” She turned to him. “What
is
Ken like?” she asked him. She turned back to me. “I don"t know him anymore. I just know that he can"t be what you want. He won"t be, even if he tries. I"m betting if you walk away, it will benefit him not just in the long run, but right away. He won"t like it, but he doesn"t have to like it. So my question for you is, do you care about my son? If you really care about him, then I"m sorry for it, but I still say cut him loose.” She turned and walked away. She didn"t even look back to see if Mark would follow her, but he started to do just that. He turned and shot me a look that I thought held regret.

“Jordan…” he said, holding his hands out palms up. “I"m sorry.” I shook my head. “It"s fine. Go on ahead; you should see if you can get a ride to school.”

He nodded and took off after his mom.

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Z. A. Maxfield

Chapter Sixteen

I was still standing in the parking lot of Day-Use when Izzie drove up in her clown car. She got out, hefting a number of small weighted balls and an exercise mat. I helped her to grab some of it when she balanced it all in her arms and tried to use her remote to lock her car. I walked her to the door; she was unusually silent as she stuck her key in the lock.

“What"s wrong?” she asked the minute we were inside, before she even turned on the lights. “You look like you"ve lost your best friend.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“To me it is. Your aura looks like a bruise.”

“Ken"s mother was here.”

“What?” Izzie turned to me. “Lydia was here? Really?”

“Yeah. She didn"t stay long. Just long enough to tell me to go fuck myself.”

“She did not!” Izzie dropped the balls on the floor and grabbed the lapels of my jacket. It was a little like being mauled by a declawed tiger.

“She did.” I removed her hands gently. “She was very nice and got straight to the point. Her baby"s gay, and she"s fine with that. I"m just not good enough for him. I"m not what he needs. I"m not what he"d choose, and if it hadn"t been for the accident, he never would have looked at me twice. It"s all right. I"ve got to clean the men"s room.” I turned away from her to get the cleaning supplies.

“Jordan!”

I looked back. “It"s really okay. She"s right.”

“Even if she was right, he
did
have that accident and he
is
looking at you.” She came right up after me, clasping my shoulder in her strong grip. “I don"t know how to Physical Therapy

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explain it to you. He looks at you and undergoes a physical and emotional change.

You"re the KeyMaster.”

My face heated up. “I am not,” I told her. “He wants me because he knows he can have me.”

“That"s a major oversimplification. He saw you and right away he was attracted.

Genuinely interested. He wanted you.”

“How could he want me? He doesn"t know the first thing about me.”

“What did he need to know other than that you make him feel good?”

“Izzie, I"m the first out gay man he"s been in contact with since the accident. It"s not about me; it"s about not hiding it anymore. It"s about giving in to the temptation that years of being an athlete and trying to live up to his parents" expectations didn"t allow him to even consider.”

“Is that what you really think?” came Ken"s appalled voice behind me.
Oh shit
.

“What the
fuck
?”

He came toward me on his crutches, stiff, I thought, from anger and the chill of the morning. “Ken, I—”

“I"m not about to try to convince you,” he snapped at me.

“Ken.” Izzie stepped in, her brow furrowed. “I"m sure what Jordan meant was—”

“I know exactly what Jordan meant,” Ken told her. He turned around and headed for the door. “He meant stop acting like a lovesick dog and find someone else to bother.”

“Don"t you dare put words into my mouth, Ken Ashton,” I shouted, but he was halfway out the door. He didn"t turn back.

Izzie came up right behind me and gave me a hard shove. “Go after him, what"s the matter with you?”

“I will not,” I told her. “He"s right. He needs to look elsewhere. I"m not right for everything a guy like him has to offer.”

“
Jordan
.”

“Do I still work here?” I asked her, feeling defiant and stupid and brokenhearted all at once.

“Of course you still work here.” She sighed. I think she was a little hurt, but I didn"t acknowledge it in any way.

“Then I need to clean the men"s room,” I said and picked up my basket of supplies. I left her there, gazing out at the parking lot where Ken was getting into his car. I could imagine his pain. I felt it in my gut. But what he needed most right then was not to square off against his entire family over what his mother had
rightly
called the wrong guy. I wasn"t about to start a relationship. I was lucky enough to have a few good friends, and I was losing them, if Izzie"s face was anything to go by, faster than I could make them.