DISCLAIMER: You are about to read a story that is strictly FAN FICTION and in NO WAY represents true accounts. I do not - nor do I wish to imply that - I know Jake Gyllenhaal, his private life or his sexual preferences. This is also true of all other celebrities represented in this story. This is a work of fiction based in homo-eroticism, so if you are not of legal age, or if this type of content might offend you, please move onto something else. -----------------------------------------------------------
And now, PART 2 . . .
I awoke the next morning to the sound of knocking. I slowly opened my eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains, and tried to gain a sense of time and place. The knocking continued. I looked up at the ceiling, then over to the clock radio on the bedside table. Nine o'clock.
"Jake!" I heard a muffled voice call.
Someone was at the door. I tripped out of bed, the sheets tangled around my legs, and almost fell to the floor. I cursed, ripped the sheets from my ankles, and stumbled to the door. I pulled it open but saw no one there, just the empty hallway. I shut the door, confused.
The knocking continued. I realized then that it was coming from the suite door which connected my room to Peter and Maggie's. I crossed the plush carpet in my bare feet, carefully stepping over clothes and empty liquor bottles along the way. A white-linened room service table sat by the television armoire, covered in a dozen dirty dishes. The smell of onion rings and shrimp cocktail permeated the stale air of the room.
Travis stretched and yawned from the couch, half-asleep, eyes closed. His presence startled me. He was naked except for a pair of blue checkered boxer shorts, his hair disheveled, a light shadow of stubble covering his jaw. When I looked down at my own appearance I discovered that I, too, was clad only in my boxer briefs.
What the hell had happened last night? I couldn't remember a goddamn thing. My head was nothing but peach fuzz.
The knocking continued, this time more urgently, and suddenly the telephone started ringing as well, presenting absolute chaos.
"SHIT! I'M COMING!" I yelled in aggravation, tripping over Travis's cowboy boots. I yanked open the connecting door and was immediately greeted by Peter's smiling face, far too chipper for so early an hour. In the background, I could see Maggie with the phone to her ear. When she noticed me she quickly hung up, and the ringing in my room ceased.
"Breakfast time, sunshine," Peter sang, pushing the door open further. "Maggie wants to go out." And then, sensing something odd in my expression, he added, "Are you okay?"
I ran a hand through my hair, holding fast to the door. "I, uh . . ."
But my words were cut short as Maggie pushed her way into the room, jokingly insisting that I get my ass moving because she was famished, and one should never keep a pregnant woman waiting. But she stopped short, causing Peter to trip into her, his crutch falling to the floor.
The scene was of Travis stumbling into his blue jeans, trying to stay upright while fumbling with the buttons of his fly. Maggie and Peter just stared at him, dumbfounded.
A long, awkward moment passed.
I cleared my throat, tried to find my voice. "Peter, Maggie," I began, gesturing towards the couch. "This is, uh, Travis . . ."
"H-hi," Maggie stammered. She glanced sideways at me, perplexed.
"Mornin'," Travis smiled, voice scratchy. He buckled the leather belt around his waist.
Peter hesitated a moment as if gathering his thoughts together, and then he hobbled over to where Travis stood and extended a hand. "Nice to meet ya."
Travis accepted his handshake. Stood awkwardly for a moment before taking a seat on the arm of the couch.
I excused myself and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. After taking a much-needed piss, I glanced at my reflection in the gilded mirror, just as I had done last night before leaving the hotel. My hair was standing up in directions I had never seen it do before. Dark circles shadowed my tired blue eyes. And my head felt like an anvil, ready to fall from my shoulders. I was hung-over. Exhausted. And my recollections of the evening were dim and somewhat disquieting.
We had ordered room service. Emptied out the mini bar. Talked about his family's ranch in Buena Vista and my recent trip to the Academy Awards. He hadn't seemed the least bit impressed by my stardom, claiming that he rarely went to the movies. Called himself a "rocky mountain hick boy", which had amused the hell out of me. The fact that he'd never seen a single one of my films intrigued me. Made me feel somehow relieved that I was just another fellow to him.
We'd talked for hours, just shooting the shit about everything from snowboarding to woodworking, and I think it was somewhere between the last small bottle of rum and the last small bottle of tequila that my attraction to him had become overwhelmingly and painfully obvious. We'd sat together cross-legged on the floor, sharing the last drops of alcohol, and as I'd listened to him talk about horse breeding, I'd suddenly become entranced by the movement of his lips. Perhaps I'd just been really, really drunk . . . I'm not certain. But I'd mysteriously found myself very desperately wanting to kiss him, right then and there.
I had restrained myself . . . I think.
My head ached when I tried to remember, and I rubbed my temples with my fingers.
I recalled saying once, in a magazine interview for 'Brokeback Mountain', that I wasn't completely opposed to the idea of exploring my sexual options. It had been a flippant remark - one I hadn't analyzed too deeply at the time - but now I realized that what I had spoken had been truth; I WASN'T opposed to the idea of being with a man. The fact that I had selected a blonde-headed cowboy who embodied certain characteristics of Ennis Del Mar was immaterial to me at that moment; Travis simply presented an undeniable intrigue to me, like unchartered territory. My curiosity was peaked.
Now I was faced with a difficult decision: deny my attraction to him and walk away, or try to live life on the edge for once, disregarding my confusion and fear and apprehension in favor of possibly finding a little happiness.
It was far too difficult a decision for me to make on such an agonizing morning.
I turned the cold water on in the sink and poured myself a glass. I gulped half of it down in one swallow but managed to only partially relieve my parched throat.
If anything HAD occurred between Travis and myself, I had no recollection of it. The latter part of the evening remained blurred, drained from my memory like water from a faucet.
A thick terrycloth bathrobe hung from a hook on the wall, compliments of the hotel. I pulled it down, slid my arms into it, and exited the bathroom. Maggie and Peter were still standing together, talking with Travis, who had pulled his t-shirt on and was now attempting to comb his hair with his fingers.
Upon my entrance, Maggie said, "Your friend here's invited us to come along with you to the ranch."
Confusion quickly set in. Had Travis and I made plans to go to Buena Vista?
I looked hesitantly at Travis. He was watching me intently, prodding me with his eyes to recall our conversation. A very distant memory of his invitation to snowboard on some remote mountain pass near his ranch came to mind.
I glanced over at my snowboard. It stood propped up in the corner, as yet still unused on this trip.
"Would you mind if we tagged along?" Maggie asked me, her eyes imploring mine for any sign of disagreement.
I shook my head but inwardly screamed a multitude of obscenities. This wasn't the best time for sibling bonding. I forced a grin, rubbing my thickly stubbled chin, and said, "Hey, the more the merrier, right?"
"We should plan to leave soon," Travis interrupted. "It's a pretty long drive."
"Well, I guess we'd better get a move on then," I said. I popped a soggy French fry into my mouth and immediately regretted it.
Peter and Maggie bid us a temporary farewell and retreated into their room to pack a few things. As the connecting door closed, I sighed and stood with hands on my hips, surveying the messy room. "Looks like a tornado hit," I mumbled.
Travis had placed his Resistol on his head and was already gathering clothes and empty bottles from the floor. At my comment, he stopped to look at me, feigning seriousness. "Your fancy-shit hotel does have housekeeping services, right?"
He was a smartass. I had to smile despite my sour mood. "Yeah," I said. "And I'm hoping my fancy-shit hotel has a truckload of aspirin for my fucking hangover, too."
Travis laughed - that deep, infectious laughter, eyes smiling, teeth flashing. He picked up his cowboy boots and sat down on the edge of the bed to pull them on. As I watched him slide a foot into each boot, I was distracted by the curve of muscles lining his biceps and the soft white hair covering his strong forearms.
I leaned a hand down against the room service table, suddenly feeling an odd sensation as if falling from the edge of a cliff . . . floating downwards, circling slowly through the air, having no idea where I might eventually land.
The drive to Buena Vista was long but breathtaking: junipers, pinon pines, leafless aspens, all standing together against an endless blue sky. The sun reflected brightly against snow-covered hills. A winding river, half-frozen and covered in patches of ice, raged beneath its icy surface, pushing white caps against massive boulders.
I had never seen Colorado in this light. I'd only ever been to Aspen and Telluride, flying in directly from Denver, never taking the scenic route. Although California and New York both offered their own unique beauty, this was. . . well, this was just plain awe-inspiring.
We had begun our journey two hours ago. Maggie and Peter sat in the backseat, playing a license plate game like two schoolchildren, giggling and tickling one another. Maggie seemed in much better spirits now that we were out of Aspen, and I was glad for the reprieve. Although I understood that it wasn't her fault, her pregnant misery tended to be miserable for all of us. It was nice to hear her laughing. I knew that Peter heartily agreed.
Travis seemed perfectly content driving, as though he traveled long distances frequently, which I suspected he did. Our morning at the hotel had been quick. I'd showered and dressed and called down to the concierge to request an extra razor and toothbrush for Travis. I'd also taken the liberty of ordering aspirin, dry toast and two very large Bloody Mary's, which had been promptly and expertly delivered to the room within minutes.
Travis had been so impressed by the expediency of service and the array of hangover cures that he had rescinded all previous crass remarks concerning my "fancy-shit hotel" and claimed The Little Nell to be a pure slice of heaven.
Outside of that, very little conversation had passed between us. Although still bothered by the fact that events of our evening remained foggy in my mind, I'd decided to keep quiet about it, at least for the time being. Travis had seemed perfectly content not to discuss it, and so I'd gone about my business, packing an overnight bag and grabbing my snowboard from its lonely corner. We'd left the hotel shortly before ten, climbing into Travis's pick-up truck with Maggie and Peter in tow.
I finished the last of the energy drink I'd purchased at our pit stop in Eagle and crumpled the empty can between the palms of my hands. I was thankful for the caffeine; I was finally starting to feel revived and somewhat human again. Travis had already finished sucking down a super-sized coffee and was now contentedly munching on a Power Bar, softly humming along to the radio.
Earlier in the ride he had removed his hat and placed it on the seat between us, and now I absently ran my fingers along its rim, feeling the hard straw rub against my skin. I subconsciously felt a connection to him, and upon realization of this quickly pulled my hand away. Travis peered at me but said nothing.
We passed through a town called Leadville and then detoured onto a dirt road, the terrain of which was all at once bumpy as a washboard. Travis called it a shortcut, expertly traversing the pathway, avoiding potholes and rocks in the road with ease. But even so, the ride was uncomfortable. I felt like Jack Twist again, riding on a bucking bull.
I pressed a hand against the dashboard to steady myself. "I take it you've driven this before," I commented.
"Sure have," Travis replied, keeping his eyes pinned to the road.
Maggie moaned from the backseat, cradling her belly. "I'm sorry guys," she whimpered, "but if we continue over these bumps I'm going to pee in my pants."
"It's not much longer," Travis assured her. "Just over this pass."
Suddenly, my cell phone rang. It's resonance startled me. I pulled it from my pocket, flipped it open, and saw that it was my agency calling. I had been a bad boy since arriving in Aspen, ignoring every single message. I knew I couldn't keep it up. I had to face the real world eventually.
"You've reached Jake," I said, and then suddenly fell sideways as Travis swerved to avoid a small boulder embedded in the middle of the road.
"Jake?" It was Melissa. "Everything all right? You sound funny."
Maggie yelped when we dipped into a very deep and very flooded pothole, its muddy water splashing up against the windows.
"Jake?" Melissa repeated.
I righted myself in the seat and gripped the cell phone tighter to my ear. "Yeah, I'm here. Just driving over a small patch of hell at the moment. What's up?"
"You've haven't returned any of my calls." Melissa had been working at the agency for several years, and in that time I had discovered her personality to be both congenial and difficult, like two separate ends of a spectrum. Ying and yang. Right now, she had her disagreeable hat on.
"Please stop ignoring my calls, Jake," she insisted. "We need to discuss your schedule, and I've got this script here waiting for you to read."
"Don't worry, Mel," I assured her. "I'll read it when I get back."
She was persistent. "Do you have a fax machine in your hotel room? I can send the script and your media schedule over right now."
"I won't be back to the hotel until Saturday."
There was a slight pause as Melissa took in this new information. "Where will you be? I can fax it to you anywhere you want."
"I don't think there's a fax machine where we're headed." I glanced over at Travis, but he seemed oblivious to my conversation, concentrating on the road in front of him instead.
Melissa suddenly sounded concerned. "Are you even in Colorado?" she demanded.
I laughed, hoping to dispel her anxiety. "Yes, Mel, I'm still in Colorado."
At that moment, we crested a rise and paused to look down at a valley spotted with douglas fir and aspen. A vast lake lay in the middle of it, sunshine sparkling off its half-frozen water like a billion mirror balls, a small herd of elk grazing languidly near its edge.
It was a spectacular sight, straight out of a John Fielder photograph.
Travis pulled over to the side of the road and shut the engine off. Maggie immediately insisted on getting out to take a picture.
"Jake?" Melissa said.
I'd already forgotten her presence on the phone. "Yeah, yeah . . . I'm here." I pushed open my door and stepped out, surprised by the mild temperature. Here, the sun was already melting the snow from the trees. A thin stream of water trickled down the side of the road, heading towards the lake. Cradling the phone between my chin and shoulder, I shook out of my coat and threw it in the open bed of the truck.
"Is everything all right?" Melissa asked.
I carefully stepped over a mound of snow down to the road. Maggie and Peter were busily snapping pictures of the valley and of each other standing in various poses. Travis had disappeared into the trees, a trail of cigarette smoke following him.
"Jake?"
"Hmm . . .?" I slid my sunglasses over my eyes and leaned against the bed of the truck.
"Where should I fax this stuff to you?"
Just then Travis reappeared from the line of trees, buckling his belt and puffing on a cigarette. The sight of him winded me, as if I had been punched in the gut.
I sighed deeply. "Mel," I said, "Let me call you when I know what I'm doing. Okay?"
I could tell that she was not happy with my answer, but she managed to sound amiable anyway. "All right, sunshine. Just PLEASE CALL ME. The sooner the better."
"Yes, dear," I promised. We said goodbye and I slid the phone back into my pocket.
Travis approached Peter and Maggie and offered to take their picture together. They stood with arms around each other, faces happy, smiles wide. Two carefree souls, connected eternally. They were handsome, perfect, full of love. A relationship to be admired. Something that very few people in this lifetime ever find.
I envied them.
"I think we'd better look for a decent place to piss before moving on," Peter said after the camera had been put away. He stepped carefully through the snow on his crutch, with Maggie holding tight to his waist. I chuckled at the sight of the two of them struggling up the rise and pulled my cell phone out to take a picture.
Travis sauntered over, cigarette between his fingers, and leaned against the truck close to where I stood. "So what do you think of this place?" he asked.
I snapped a picture of him before he could react. "It's fucking amazing," I said. I watched him take a drag of his cigarette and suddenly craved one myself. "Got an extra?"
He plucked a pack of Camels from his shirt pocket and shook one out for me. Instead of offering me his lighter, he leaned forward and touched the tip of his burning cigarette to mine. Our hands lightly brushed and an electric current sailed straight up my arm, causing me to jump back. I pulled the cigarette from my lips, Travis did the same, and then we stood there looking at each other through the haze of smoke.
He whispered something inaudible and reached out to grab my wrist. Slowly he leaned in towards me, lips parted, a look of stark intensity on his slightly freckled face. I knew a kiss was coming, but for some stupid reason I panicked and stepped back, stumbling over a rock beneath my foot, losing my balance. I reached out a hand to brace myself against the truck and felt instantly, irrevocably foolish.
Travis was visibly annoyed by my reaction. He mumbled, "Well, THAT'S fucking interesting," before flicking his cigarette into a puddle of water and pushing himself away from the truck. He took a few steps away and kicked at pebbles in the road until a dust cloud plumed up around him. He squinted and turned away and stood looking at the ground, his fingers hooked in the belt loops of his jeans, his hair shimmering golden in the sunlight. As I watched him, I thought to myself: he's a goddamn beautiful sight . . . and I'm a stupid goddamn idiot.
Finally, he lifted his face and looked at me with narrow eyes. "Am I not understanding something here?" he asked.
I couldn't find a voice to speak with at first. I swallowed hard, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. My thoughts swirled like a flurry of snowflakes, preventing concentration. I silently cursed and bit my lip. Commanded myself not to screw this up.
"No," I eventually said, "you're probably understanding everything perfectly fine. I'M the one who doesn't fucking understand. This . . . whatever this is," I gestured from myself to him, the cigarette flying between my fingers, "I can't . . . I don't know what to say. I don't even know what HAPPENED last night for Christ's sake. Everything's a goddamn blur."
"Last night?" Travis said. "You think something happened last night?"
"Didn't it?"
He snickered and walked back over to the truck, shaking his blonde head. With arms crossed, he leaned his shoulder against the door of the cab to face me and said, "What do YOU think happened last night?"
I shrugged. Took a drag of my cigarette. "I don't know," I said. "I don't know what to think. I mean, we were half-naked this morning . . ."
"Well," he said, cutting me off, "I don't know about you, but I often sleep in my underwear. Especially when I have no pajamas."
I smiled at this statement. "Okay, smartass. But even so . . . I feel like something happened between us. Like . . ."
"Like?" he prompted, thoroughly enjoying my uneasiness.
"I don't know . . . like . . . kissing . . . or something."
Travis smiled devilishly and leaned in closer until I could almost feel his breath on my face. "Oh, yeah," he whispered to me. "We did a lot of that."
That's when my stomach dropped as if a lead weight had been placed upon it.
So my suspicions had been correct afterall; my desire to kiss him had come to fruition at some point during the night. Sometime during the dreaded blackout period. Why couldn't I fucking remember it? And what else had happened?
Travis sensed my anxiety and tried to calm me by grabbing my hand. "Hey, don't worry," he said. "We only kissed. Nothing more. Don't look so concerned, I knew you weren't ready for anything else."
I sighed and sucked hungrily on the cigarette. I trusted this to be true only because I couldn't imagine he'd have any reason to lie about it.
"You really don't remember?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Not a goddamn thing."
He studied me for a moment, green eyes probing into mine. Then he glanced up to the spot where Maggie and Peter had disappeared to. Decided that the coast was clear and quickly pushed me up against the truck to drown me in a kiss. I was so startled I didn't know how to react at first. Just stood there like a stone statue.
He cupped my face in his hands to bring me in closer and shoved his tongue into my mouth, hungrily sucking until I could feel saliva forming at the edges of my lips. It was a kiss like nothing I had ever experienced before. Not even the infamous one between Jack and Ennis, which, despite Heath almost breaking my nose, had been quite exhilarating in itself.
The taste of Travis's mouth felt familiar to me. Suddenly a recollection of last night flashed before my eyes like lightning flickering into a darkened room - a memory of the two of us sitting on the floor of the hotel room facing one another. The palms of our hands pressed to the carpet as our bodies leaned into one another. Our mouths opening to engage in a long, sensuous kiss.
My senses fully awakened at this memory, and I pinched the cigarette between my fingers to pull Travis closer, embracing him tightly until I could feel the hardness in his jeans rubbing up against my own. The most amazing sensation I had ever encountered - unlike anything I could ever have imagined.
I involuntarily let out a deep-throated moan, completely beside myself.
Then, just as quickly as he had pulled me to him, Travis let me go, spinning around on his heels and stepping away. I followed his gaze and noticed Maggie and Peter slowly making their descent back down to the road.
Shit, how could I possibly explain this?
Travis cleared his throat and ran a nervous hand through his hair. I remained by the truck, sucking on my cigarette with a shaking hand. I silently prayed for my erection to go down quickly and tried to find a less noticeable position to stand in.
Peter and Maggie approached the truck, stomping snow from their feet.
"I cannot believe I just peed squatting down in a forest," Maggie complained.
"Well, being a man does have its attributes, my love," Peter teased, playfully pulling on her arm. She thumped him on the chest.
Their light-hearted disposition confused me; either they were choosing to play dumb or they truly hadn't witnessed the kiss. The latter seemed doubtful to me, for their view of the truck from the tree line had been fantastic. But I decided to play the charade with them anyway, feigning blissful ignorance.
"You've never pissed in a forest before, Mags?" I teased.
She gave me her famous middle-finger-touching-her-ass-cheek trick, and Peter and I both "ooohhed" and "aaahhed" at her cleverness. She noticed the cigarette in my hand and immediately stomped over to me. "Are you actually SMOKING, Jacob Benjamin?"
I purposefully took a drag and blew the smoke up above her head, grinning. "Yes I am, mother dear."
Her nose crinkled as though the stench of dirty diapers was in the air. She pulled the digital camera from her pocket and pointed it at me. "Say cheese, big guy."
I grinned foolishly, holding the cigarette up to my mouth like Groucho Marx. She took the picture and previewed it on the screen. "Mom's sure to LOVE this one," she taunted.
Travis peeked over her shoulder, viewed the photo, and agreed that it was quite amusing. Then he pulled open the driver's side door of the truck, slid behind the wheel, and said, "I hate to break up the party, but we really should get going."
As the engine roared to life, Maggie, Peter and I quickly scrambled to get inside the cab. Travis shifted into drive and warned us to hold on tight as tires spun against the washboard road. A spray of pebbles and dirt and mud kicked up behind us as we took off in the direction of the valley below, the shimmering lake blinding our way.
----------------------------------------------------------- Brokeback Mountain copyright 1997 by Dead Line, Ltd. / 2005 Focus Features LLC -----------------------------------------------------------
Well, there's part two for you! Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Again, I encourage your comments/suggestions. You can reach me at avymac@hotmail.com. I can also be found occasionally at MSN Group: http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalEncounter/_whatsnew.msnw. It's a GREAT site for all Gyllenhaal fans. (And if you haven't read `The Gyllenhaal Encounter' by Chris yet, I highly suggest that you do!)
Until next time, - Avy