Red and Blue Chronicles Box Set

Chapter 15

Today was the day. I was going to be in Boone’s house. Was going to meet his wife, that little girl I knew a long time ago.

Like a child coming home from a long field trip, I was running in my heart, with my eyes on that door, that safe, familiar door.

And I didn’t care if Nathan sulked all day. I couldn’t let him ruin this gift.

“So, tell me about this Boone guy,” he said, this morning.

We were having breakfast. Wheat cereal for Nathan. Peanut butter and jelly sandwich for me.

“You haven’t seen him in how long?”

I washed down the head rush with a glass of fat milk. “Told you, seventeen years.”

Nathan licked his finger and flipped to the business section. “And he was your best friend? Why did you guys drift apart like that?”

I set my plate in the sink. Saturdays, Nathan was on dish duty. I was itching to jump in the shower and go for a ride to daydream. “I told you, they moved.”

“Right. I get that. But, you never looked him up, or—”

“No.”

Nathan’s expression was somewhere in between befuddled and suspicious. “Strange.”

Some of the world’s most precious treasures had turned to dust at the slightest touch. Sometimes, the past was better left undisturbed.

“So, he’s a cop?”

I nodded and headed for the washroom, but Nathan slipped his fingers around my wrist. “He straight?” His fierce gaze punctured my confidence.

“He’s married, Nate, I told you.”

“Well, that means squat.”

“Trust me,” I returned, freeing myself from his clutch. “There isn’t a queer thing about Boone Lund.”

I ran the shower as hot as I could take it and stood under the water with my eyes closed.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Nathan’s voice pulled me out of my reverie.

I should have learned to lock the door. “No,” I lied.

He slid the glass shower door open and stepped into the marble stall. In some countries, our shower is a hotel.

I turned around. There it was. His big throbbing morning salute.

His mouth tasted like Scope and newspaper ink. He kissed me on the lips, then moved down to my neck. He nibbled on my left ear lobe for approximately twenty seconds, in which time I heard him panting over the pulsing sound of the water. “Derek, turn around.”

My eyes darted down to his erection. My buttocks instantly cramped up.

No way. Not today. Nah-huh.

His tongue worked at my sealed lips. “Baby, it’s been so long, I wanna feel you from the inside. I wanna f**k you, Derek. Turn around, come on. I’ll make you come so hard.”

When Nate started to talk dirty, I had a tendency to look around for the cameraman and sound crew.

“No,” I carefully returned, retracting to the corner of the stall.

“No? Why?” He moved in closer, and his fingers began to crawl down my stomach. I was about as hard as a steamed zucchini. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he circled his fingers around the obvious problem. “Did you just jerk off?”

I’d been in the shower for less than twenty seconds. I’d been known to provide myself with phenomenally quick self-gratification, but twenty seconds, that, I’d never accomplished. “Just tired.”

“Tired?” His fingers grazed my flaccid c**k. “Sure?” His voice was thick with need. “I bet I can change your mind before the hot water runs out.”

Maybe.

“Come here.” His hands were hard pressed on my skin. His eyes, veiled with desire. “Blow me, come on, Der.”

Lately, I’d been feeling more and more like a boy blow-up doll.

“Nate.”

“Come on, baby. Look at me, two minutes and I’ll come.”

“Nathan. No.” I freed myself from his embrace. “I’m not feeling it. Okay?”

His eyes hardened as he yanked my hand down. “At least gimme a hand job.”

I snatched my hand away and shot him a murderous look.

He brusquely reached for the dial and turned the water off. “What the f**k is wrong with you? You’re acting like a wife, you know that? Like I’m supposed to beg for s*x? You know how hard I work for you? The s**t I put myself through to satisfy your every little selfish need?”

“Na—nathan, don’t g—go there.”

“Ye—yes I—I will,” he mocked me.

My mouth popped opened, but nothing but a gasp came out. I bolted out of the stall, jerked a towel off the shelf, and slammed the bedroom door shut behind me. Those years of repressing anything remotely close to an emotional outburst had to serve some kind of purpose. I bit down hard on my lip and clasped my unsteady hands together.

“Der, I’m sorry.” Nathan stood in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist.

The man was absolutely breathtaking. Sexy mouth. Penetrating eyes. Thick dark hair. Not to mention, well hung. But, the very idea of sucking him off made me gag sometimes.

And I was marrying him? What the bloody hell was wrong with me?

He was right about my lack of interest in us. So right. And yet, I couldn’t help torturing him for all the bullshit he sometimes put me through. This relationship was toxic. We’d come together for all the wrong reasons.

“I don’t know why you bring the worst out of me.” Nathan seemed to have read my mind. “Derek, look, I don’t know how to say this without hurting you.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and I braced myself for a confession. “Baby, I think you’re frigid. You know, I’ve been reading up on HSDD and I think you may be suffering from this disorder.”

I fell back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Dear God, what are you talking about?”

“Hypoactive s****l Desire Disorder. It’s fairly rare, but it does occur in some young men, and you have most of the symptoms.”

“Please, I’m dying to know what they are.”

“For instance, difficulty in maintaining intimacy, relationship problems—you know, things of that nature.” He cleared his throat. “Lack of s****l appetite is another.”

I chuckled instead of punching him in the nose.

“Don’t laugh, Derek. This is serious stuff.”

“I’m going for a ride.” I sat up and shook my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him folding his arms over his bare chest, shaking his head in utmost disapproval. I ignored him.

Of course, he wasn’t satisfied. “I think you should see someone.”

I flinched, but kept my cool. I slowly unfastened the towel around my waist and let it drop to the floor. Naked, I took my sweet time walking to the closet, making sure I was giving him an eyeful of my finest assets. If he was going to try to psychobabble me into s*x, then I had every right to torment him.

His stare was hot on my skin. I could feel it roaming over my body. “You’re cold, Der. Real cold. I’d even say you’re a bit of c**k tease.” The hurt in his voice caused me to scowl, but I remained immobile, as supple as I could, staring at the contents of our closet.

“Okay,” he said, walking away. “You win. I can’t fight your silence. I can’t get past the walls you’ve built around you.”

I stiffened, holding in my breath and indignation. Me, cold?

Nathan had taken a call last night. One that had dragged him out of bed, to the terrace, where he’d stayed for over ten minutes. I checked his phone this morning, just before he opened his lying eyes.

I dialed the last number. Some guy answered with sleep lingering in his young, crystalline voice. You know who he sounded like? Sounded like that bloody bellboy.

* * * *

I spent this evening thinking about Nathan’s lies and staring at the bottom of my whiskey glass. Then later, I couldn’t stay away from my childhood diary. Couldn’t help reading on and on…

Dear Bump,

Just finished breakfast. Except it’s the afternoon.

I went to sleep on Tuesday. Today is Thursday. When I woke up, my eyes were stuck together. Like clams. Aunt Frannie smiled. “Welcome back, baby.”

She made some banana pancakes. I ate five. But they were small.

“How you feelin,’ hon?”

I dragged my spoon across the bottom of my plate to catch all the left-over syrup. “Okay.” I shrugged.

Aunt Frannie frowned. “Yeah?” She was putting the dry dishes away. “Sure? It’s okay if you don’t.”

The syrup wasn’t the good kind. More like water with sugar. I enjoyed it anyway.

“I mean, hon, you can tell me if you feel bad about things. Do you wanna go see your mom? See if she feels better today?”

If I let the syrup sit in my mouth for a few seconds, it started tasting a little like maple.

“Derek, say something.”

I glanced up.

Aunt Frannie’s eyes were steady on my face. “You need to start talking about your feelings more. Doctor says you might have low self-esteem problems.”

Low self-esteem. Probably why I feel so tired.

She put the last plate away. “Can I ask you something?” She sucked in a long breath. “Is it because of your stuttering? Is that what’s keeping you from saying more than five words? Because if it is, we can see someone about that. A speech therapist.”

I thought about that option for a moment. Could this person, this speech therapist, could he help Nick with his reading and writing?

Nick.

I remembered he was gone.

“Is Nick ba—back?”

Her eyes shrunk. “Is that all you can think about? I’m asking you something, Derek. I wanna know what I can do to help you with things. With your problems.”

“Is he ba—back?”

She threw her hands up. “No, he isn’t. He and the Pinet boy are gone. They haven’t called or anything. Got poor Johan worried out of his mind. Helga, too, I suppose, but she’s too proud to show it. Red, you can’t be thinking about that. You got your own things to think about, okay?”

Gone.

With David. Did they go to Vancouver? Where is Vancouver?

“Are you listening to me?”

Could I ride my bike out there in the spring and stay with them?

“So? What do you wanna do about your stuttering?”

“Dunno.”

She sighed. “Fine.” She faked a smile. “We’ll talk about it some other time. Go get cleaned up.”

I bounced out of my chair.

“Oh, and Derek,” I heard her cry out as I ran down the stairs. “Your dad called. He’s coming home. Gonna be here next week.”

* * * *

Today, as we turned the corner of Crawford Street, I’d lost the ability to frame a single coherent thought.

I couldn’t sit. No, I was perched, staring out of the Jeep’s window, my eyes drinking in Boone’s world, his neighborhood, in deep swills of visual imagery. Two boys zoomed past us, riding their bikes like the wind, and I smiled, catching sight of their fleeting youth as they raced against the invisible threats of time.

I was one of them once. A sweet dream ago.

“Derek, could you please relax?” Nathan’s voice was a pesky fly at the edge of my ear. “What number is he?” The Jeep slowed down. “Oh wait, here it is.”

Surges of electrical synapses stirred my brain and nerves. We were parked in front of Boone’s house.

Nathan turned the engine off and combed his fingers through his thick black hair. He looked smashing in his De La Renta jacket. He smelled like the expensive shelf in the men’s cosmetic’s aisle. “You have the wine?”

Boone had a house. A lovely house, too. With a small yard and a fence. There was a wicker chair on his porch.

“Derek?” Nathan’s hand swept past my eyes. “Hello? Are we going in or what?”

The front door swung open and a girl, some kind of blond fairy, ran down the steps. “Derek!”

Nathan had already climbed out and was shaking her hand.

Lene’s voice was the flickering candle in a stranger’s window. I sat, with my sweaty hand clasped firmly around the handle, unable to move. She came round and tapped the window. I dared a glance. She had mouth full of teeth. She plucked the door open and laughed. “Come on, I swear I won’t make you look at my panties.” She winked. “Besides, I’m not wearing any.”

I heard myself chuckle.

“Get out here so I can get a better look at you. Come on.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me out. Within seconds, her warm, soft hands were on my face. Our eyes met. “Oh my,” she whispered. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe it.” She turned to Nathan, but her hands never left my face. “Don’t hold this against me,” she said, her voice thick with femininity. Her mouth found mine and without a thought, or any hesitation, my hand reached up for her neck, and I pressed her curves against my body, deepening our kiss.

At our left, Nathan let out a hard breath, “Hey.” He chuckled, but his laugh was tense. “Okay, now, that’s enough.”

Lene bent her face to my neck and giggled softly, embracing me. “Let’s go inside,” she murmured. “Dad is dying to see you.”

“Wha—at?”

She slipped her hand into mine. “Yeah, he and Mom are here. You know us Lunds, everything is a family affair.” We climbed up the stairs, with Nathan a step behind. As she pushed the door open, her indigo eyes peered into my face. “We’ve all wondered about you, Derek. All these years.” She smiled, but her eyes were glistening with tears. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

And with one shy step, I entered another dimension.

The first thing I saw were Kenya’s dark, luminous eyes. “Hello, Derek. Welcome.” She glided towards me. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Her long fingers cupped themselves around mine. “You’ll have to forgive me. Boone says you and I were in the same grade, but I can’t seem to remember you.”

I can hardly remember myself either.

“And you must be Nathan. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Like wise. It smells like heaven in here.” One thing about Nathan, he was smooth.

“Come on,” Lene urged. “Everyone’s in the living room. Come on!”

Nathan laughed, pushing me forward. “You heard the lady, move it.”

I stalled a little. I wanted to take the time to study the surroundings, to let my eyes roam. There was so much to take in, so many details I wanted to pause on, but I could do that later. “All right,” I whispered.

As we passed over the living room threshold, Boone jumped out of his chair. “My man,’ he cheered. “How’s it goin’? Glad you’re here.” He slapped my shoulder, nearly knocking me over. “Lookin’ good. Nice shirt. Don’t you think, Ma? Look at this guy. I mean, s**t. Where did that skinny geek go?” His blue eyes shifted to Nathan. “Hey, how are you.” There was a chill in Boone’s voice. I caught it.

Everyone caught it.

Nathan seemed to hesitate, but then he extended his hand. I watched Boone’s bear paw swallow it. Nathan is five feet eleven, but I realized, he was staring at Boone’s chin.

Boone is colossal. Like his father.

Johan rose, followed by Helga. They circled me. Embraced me. Soon, all of us we’re sitting together, drinking Johan’s homemade Aquavit, exchanging news in waves of short sentences that carried the power of our mutual affection. The room buzzed with excitement. It was intoxicating. Kenya, busied herself with the various starters, canapés and refills, dazzling me with her quick moves and apropos comments, as though she was neither here or there, never missing a single word of our fast-paced conversations.

Lene and Boone had sandwiched me into an interrogation.

“So? Accounting, huh?”

“Ducati, huh?”

“Doctor Penfield Boulevard, huh?”

I nodded myself through it, giggling at their child like enthusiasm.

“Well, s**t,” Boone said, more seriously. “You did good for yourself. To think I worried about you.” He raised his glass. “Salud.”

The silence felt gently on our heads like November’s first snow. For a moment, serenity visited my heart. I looked around. My eyes went from Johan’s charismatic face, to Helga’s sharp, crisp blue eyes spying on the world, then over to the mantle, which was cluttered with frames of all shapes and sizes. “Do you mind?” I’d gotten to me feet and stood by the pictures.

“Take a look, man, it’s all there.” Boone came to stand by me. “There’s even one of you.” He moved a few frames around and picked one out of the last row. “Yeah, see? The school picture you gave me. Fourth grade I think. Yeah, that’s right.” He laughed softly. “Man, that is one ugly brown sweater.”

My eyes wandered over the red-headed boy who seemed to be staring back at me. The one whose words I’d been reading in the last weeks. I set the picture down. “Seems like forever.”

Boone eyes echoed my ardent emotions. “Yeah, sure does.”

My attention wandered, passing faces, smiles, and all shades of blue.

Then my heart leaped.

Nick.

The second frame to last. It was him.

I burned from within, but walked slow, to the edge of the mantle. I wanted to pick the picture up to study his heartbreaking face more closely but was afraid I wouldn’t be able to let it go.

“That’s Nico,” Boone whispered, standing behind me. “In case you didn’t recognize the cocky son of a gun.”

Nicolai Lund.

An abysmal omen.

All of Hell’s temptations, and some of Heaven’s expired offers.

Boone bent to my ear. “Take a breath, Red.” He pinched my side. “Mr. Roboto’s watching you.”

“Who?” I asked under my breath, still gazing at Nick’s smile. “Stop it. Nate is—is okay, just co—comes off as a jerk sometimes.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Boone’s voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. “Just hope your boyfriend loaded up on KY, ‘cause he’s gonna be hurting when that stick comes out of his ass.”

This time, a loud, unpolished laugh shot out of my mouth.

“What’s so funny, you two?” Lene had joined us. “Derek, don’t believe a single thing Boone says.” She slapped his back. “Remember, he’s brain damaged.”