THE STORY OF US BY: Julien
This story is 100% fictional and is by no means depictive of the life of any person, place or thing. It contains sexual activities between males and should only be read if it is legal to do so in your area. Read at your own risk and enjoy. Comments are welcomed and would be very much appreciated. ENJOY!
I would like to thank my editor Frank for doing such a great job on editing - thanks a lot man...
RICHIE
As I stood at the counter waiting for my double espresso, a quick movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned and the frown that I had been displaying adamantly all day turned upside down.
"Terry! Hey, how are you?" I called out to him.
He turned around and a smile graced that handsome face of his. It reminded me of how much I missed having a smile like that directed towards me.
"Richie! Long time no see. How you doing, man?"
"I'm ok, I'm good - things have been ok..." I didn't want to get into it right here or right now, but I could feel the need to get it off of my chest rising.
"I heard about your man coming out - I thought it was a pretty brave thing for him to do. I know it must be hard on you, too."
"Yeah."
"Well how are you holding up?" His facial expression switched gears and a look of sympathy made its way unto his features.
"I'm ok, I'm doing good, actually. Bobby and I, we're, we're...great!" The words came out jumbled and fake, and I prayed to God that Terry wouldn't pick up on it.
"Good, good. Glad to hear it."
There was a brief moment of silence and I decided to use this opportunity to turn the conversation around.
"So, how is Jack doing? I haven't spoken to him in a while. How are you guys doing?"
The look that crossed his face was one of sadness and I regretted bringing up that particular subject.
"Jack's doing better. He's going in for surgery in a few weeks to see if they can shrink the cancer cells. They're going to be using a new experimental procedure, so we're hoping for the best." He paused and took a moment to glance over my shoulder before continuing, "as for us, things are still the same. We're friends, you know, and I love that, but I'm still hoping that we can go back to where we were before this cancer thing. I love him, Richie, I really do, and there isn't a day, hour or minute that goes by that I don't regret all that I've done to him. I was really an asshole. I mean I had a guy that most people would kill to have, someone who was always there for me, someone who treated me like a god, someone who put up with my shit and kept taking me back, even though he knew I still fucked around...but that's karma I suppose. I'm finally getting what I deserve."
"What are you talking about, Terry?" I asked, my curiosity peaking.
"The cancer, Richie. I'm being punished. I finally discover the error of my ways, and now it's too late. Jack has given up on me. He won't take me back, he won't marry me, the trust is gone. Do you have any idea how it feels to know that the man you love can't even look you in the face anymore? Do you have any idea as to how that feels?"
I don't know if he expected an answer from me, so I remained quiet.
"Well, let me tell you, Richie, it feels like hell." And in a more somber voice he said, "this is my punishment for treating him like shit. God's punishing Jack for my mistakes. He's fucking with me by making me realize what a mistake I've made and by making Jack hate me." He took his left hand and ran it through his hair leaving it disheveled and going in every which way.
"That's not true, Terry. God is not punishing you or Jack. Anyone of us could have gotten cancer. It's not some predestined fate ok, it's just.... it's just a roll of the dice. It just happened to be Jack." Of course I wasn't sure I believed in this concept whole-heartedly. Maybe it was God punishing him for being such a lousy boyfriend, and maybe he was punishing me for being a homosexual. Maybe that was why I was here in some Starbucks in the city waiting on a frappachino and feeling miserable and wondering if I had made the right decision in leaving the best thing that had ever happened to me. But Terry didn't need to know all of that for he seemed to be in a worse mental state than myself. I drew out of my train of thought upon realizing that Terry was addressing me.
"Sorry, Terry, what did you say?"
"It's ok, man. I was just saying that my order's up so I'm gonna get it and split. I gotta get to Queens to see Jack. He had a consultation today about the surgery, so hopefully things went well."
"I'm sure it did," I responded, glancing over to the counter and noticing the cashier holding up a caramel colored liquid in a cup and wiggling her finger in my direction. "Well, there's my order. Maybe all three of us could go out to dinner sometime, maybe after Jacks' surgery." I suggested walking with him to the counter.
"Yeah, that would be nice, Jack would like that. He's been asking about you."
I had to admit that I was surprised to hear that, after all, I hadn't seen Jack in a few months. "Really?"
"Yeah. Just the other day he was asking me if I had seen you recently."
"Why? It's not like we run into each other on a daily basis."
"My sentiments exactly but apparently he had a different take on our 'relationship'. He actually thought we were dating or something."
My eyes widened in surprise at his words. "Why would he think that?" I asked.
"Well, I did tell him about that disaster date we went on a few months back and he, well, he, he thought there was more to it than I was letting on. He actually thought we were getting serious. Of course I set him straight, but he still doesn't believe me. I suppose I deserve that after everything I put him through."
I didn't want to respond to that, so I just gave him my best sympathetic look and averted my gaze from his own.
He seemed to get the message for he reached over the counter, took his order from the cashier as did I, and began to walk out with me. Back on the street he surprised me with a hug and peck on the cheek, followed by the words, "Thanks for the ear, Richie. I really appreciate it." And before I had a chance to respond, he was walking in the direction of the Astor Place subway station. I stood there regarding him as he began to walk down the steps, disappearing within seconds.
I was on my way into Laurence's office when my cell phone rang.
"Hello." I answered not bothering to check the caller id, something that I had done religiously since Bobby came out. With all the media access these days, it came as no surprise to me that these psychos managed to track down not only my home and office but also my cell number.
"It's me." Those two words sent chills racing up and down my spine and for a moment, I thought I would collapse from the titillation I felt from just hearing his voice.
"Bobby?"
"Yeah...I'm sorry to be calling you. I know you said you needed your space. It's just that...."
I cut him off, "No, no problem, I didn't mean that you couldn't call me, I just needed a break, sometime away from you. And I mean it's been a month and a half already. I was.... I was beginning to think that you had gotten fed up and just decided to throw in the towel." The words were painful for me to say and I had to force myself to hold back a sob.
"No, NO! I could never feel that way, baby. After everything we done been through, I could never feel that way. You got to know that."
It was a relief to hear him say that and the passion his voice possessed only helped to convince me that he was telling the truth.
"I do, it's just that things have been so out of control lately with work and us and sometimes I just feel like giving up." This time, I wasn't so successful in holding my emotions in. I let out a sob, and had to momentarily hold the phone away from my ear. When I was brave enough to bring it back, I heard Bobby's' words of reassurance, ".... things are at a point right now where they can't get any worse, Richie. We've been through it all, so the only place we can go from here is up. And I know that the things that I did, and said, were fucked up, and that I blamed you for a lot of the shit that was wrong with my life, but I want you to know that I'm far from feeling that way. You're the one constant in my life, baby, and I miss you."
His words touched me, and again a pang of regret rose up in me. Had I been stupid to just walk away?
"Bobby, I, I believe you, and I'm sorry for just leaving. I just, I thought that time away would be the best thing for us..."
"And it was, Richie. You know, since you've been gone, I've realized how much you mean to me, what you mean to me, what I would do to keep you safe and protected. The time we spent apart made me see how precious you are to me, and how grateful I am that you love me the way that you do, unwavering, unconditionally, whole heartedly. I love and appreciate you baby, and I mean that from the core of my soul."
I could feel my face burning with the intensity of his words, and I found that I was half hard. Images of the last night we had together made an imprint on my mind at that very moment, and I found myself unable to make them disappear.
"Richie, you still there?"
"I temporarily broke out of my train of thought and answered him, "Yeah, I'm still here."
"Well, did you hear what I said?"
"No, sorry, my mind was.... elsewhere."
"Well, I asked if it was ok if I came to see you tonight. If you're not ready to see me, I'm fine with that but I..."
I cut him off with a shouted 'YES!'
"God, yes, Bobby, you can come over. As a matter of a fact, I would love it if you could come over this afternoon." And in a raspy voice I continued with, "I need you bad." He seemed to get where I was going with this, as he made a comment about hating to have to invite Suzie and her four friends over every time he felt the need to get off.
"I haven't been with anyone else, Richie. It's either you or nothing."
His words warmed my heart and I had to stop myself from running for the nearest subway, hoping on and heading home to meet him.
"You mean it?" I whispered, tears firming in the corner of my eyes.
"As I'm sure the sky is blue," was his response.
Enough meaningful words had been said in that one conversation than had been said in the few months of our tumultuous relationship to make up for everything that seemed to be wrong with us.
"In that case, I expect to see you on my doorstop when I get home at four."
"You got it, baby."
"And Bobby..."
"Yeah."
"Be prepared to stay the night."
"Sure thing." I could hear the laughter in his voice, as he once again told me he loved me before hanging up.
It was as if I were on cloud nine, having resolved some of my issues with Bobby, and as I walked into Laurence's office, I felt a smile tug at the corner of mouth, one that I was unable to contain.
BOBBY
I felt a sense of relief sweep over me as I hung up. My conversation with Richie had somehow left me feeling as if a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I knew that things were far from perfect but this was a start. Having him agree to see me, asking me to spend the night, telling me he loved me, made me feel invincible, and I swore to myself that this time, nothing would fuck it up.
It seems that every step I take forward, something has to come to bite me on the ass and drag me two steps backwards. After I had gotten off the phone with Richie, I got a call from someone I ain't wanna hear from.
"You think you is a slick mutha fucka, Bobby." There was no mistaking who was on the other end of the line. I had all but forgotten about him since it had been a few months since he had tried to extort money from me.
"You have some God damn nerve calling me, Ernie. What the fuck do you want?" The anger and hate that spewed from my mouth came as shock even to me.
"What the fuck do I want? What the fuck do I want?!? Who the fuck do you think you are, pulling a stunt like that!"
I knew what he was referring to, but I refused to acknowledge anything. If this mutha fucka wanted to mess with me, he was gonna do it without my help. The mere fact that I refused to acknowledge him infuriated him even more.
"Answer me!" he barked. I could tell he was losing control of his emotions, and that was what I wanted to happen. Where Ernie was a master manipulator, once he lost control of a situation, that was it, there was no regaining it.
"I ain't got nothing to say." And with that, I hung up. I didn't even pay much attention to the call and went about my merry way, my heart beating twice as fast as the hour approached for me to go meet Richie. At three I got my keys and headed out into my garage.
If I had been paying attention on where I was going, rather than on who I was meeting, I would have seen him behind a pillar. If my head hadn't been filled with thoughts of Richie, I would have noticed his disheveled appearance, and most important of all, if I wasn't all wrapped up in my own happiness, I would have spotted the silver metal that was attached to his hand. But I didn't see any of that and it came as a shock to see him step out from behind his hiding spot.
"You better get the fuck out of here before I call the cops, Ernie." I spit, stopping in my tracks. I wasn't gonna let him have the upper hand here.
"Or what, Bobby? What are you gonna do If I don't leave?" His taunting got to me, but I refused to explode. It would only be more fuel to a fire that was already burning out of control.
I took out my cell phone and started to dial 911 when I heard the first shot. The phone that was once divided into two sides lay smashed on the ground, smoke rising from its remnants.
"What the fuck..." my voice came to a halt when I realized what had happened. The gun in his hand, aimed directly at me, was testimony to what I already knew, this cat was crazy.
"Yeah, know what? You ain't got no mouth now do you? Where the fuck is your mouth now, BITCH!" his words came out in quick succession and I felt every venomous word in my bones.
"What the hell is wrong with you, man? What, you gonna shoot me, huh? You gonna gun me down? Well, go ahead, I don't give a fuck. Shoot me. Shoot me!" I may have sounded brave to my own ears, but inside I was shaking. I was afraid that he would actually do it.
"Don't tempt me, Bobby, don't fucking tempt me! Just calm the fuck down!" and in a more serene voice, that would have suggested that we were just having a friendly argument rather than a life or death matter, he continued with, "I just wanna talk to you man. I just wanna talk to you face to face, like a man, like how boys would talk."
I was on the verge of telling him to fuck off, but held back noticing his composure. His hand was shaking and I feared that any sudden movement would set him or the gun off.
"What you got to say, Ernie?" I asked, my voice calm as a cucumber.
"I, I, Jesus, Bobby, what we had, what we had was fucking tops man. We had a good career, we made a good team man. We brought in all the dough, and women, and anything else you coulda wanted. Why you had to go throw that away, man? Why you had to let that faggot turn you out like that? If you wanted to fuck, man, you had me, man. You didn't have to fuck with that piece of shit, man. What we had was good, Bobby, and you had to go fuck it up with all that sentimental bullshit. The whole world ain't needed to know your business, man. I coulda kept you satisfied on the down low." He paused and then sighed, lifting the butt of the gun and placing it on his head. "Well, what's done is done, and we can't change shit, so we got to go with the flow. We got to figure out a way to get the faggot outta the way, man. He's just a distraction and we can't be having no distractions, can we?"
I didn't answer him, still in shock at his words. I was now convinced, more now than ever, that this cat was on something.
"I'm fucking TALKING TO YOU!!!!!!" he screamed, the gun once again pointed in my directions. I had no choice but to respond favorably.
"Yeah, you right, we can't be having any distractions."
"Good, glad we agree on that. In that case call him over here."
"What?" I asked, confused at his request.
"Call Richie over here. I'll deal with his meddling ass once and for all. There won't be enough pieces to identify him when I'm done." He then let out a sardonic laugh that chilled my bones.
"I ain't calling shit, man," I stated, breaking out of script. I had had enough of this assholes' games, and I wanted out.
He pulled back the clip and walked closer to me, stopping only when the gun was mere inches from my face. "Call him, or I'll kill you, you got it. I'll wipe this fucking garage with your fucking brain. That what you want? To be a memory? Or do you want to live?"
I didn't answer him. I was at a loss for words. On one hand, I could make the call and save my life, and on the other hand, I could have taken a bullet for the man that had made me want to go out and live my life the best way I knew how. I didn't even have to think.
"I ain't calling him." I stated, hands crossed over my chest.
"I ain't kidding, Bobby, I will fucking kill you. You hear me? I'll blow your brains the fuck out! Do you get that?????" His agitation was more apparent than ever. His hand shook violently and I was just awaiting the obvious.
"I get it, and now, you need to get me. I ain't your friend, your homie or your boy. We ain't buddies, compadres or amigos. I ain't want to see you, hear from you or fucking smell you, and get it through your fucking skull that I got me a man, and I don't need a second rate fuck-up as yourself to keep me company." My words hit him hard as his hand instinctively went up to wipe his eyes.
I took this as my cue to run but I didn't make it very far. I felt the first round hit me in the arm and then two more pierced my legs sending me flying face first into the pavement. I heard his footsteps on the gravel and tried to turn around but was rewarded with a foot in my back. I cried out in pain.
"Now what, mutha fucka, now what? You shoulda done what I asked you to do, Bobby. You stupid mutha fucka! Now you gonna get what you deserve, and when I'm done with you, I'm gonna deal with that bitch." Those were the last words I heard before two or three slugs entered my back, letting me slip into pitch-black darkness.
RICHIE
I looked at my watch and saw that it was after seven. I had come home at four thirty worried that maybe Bobby had grown frustrated at my being late, and had left but almost two and a half hours later, he still hadn't telephoned me at home or on my cell phone. I had gone from being worried, to being upset, to being livid. He had approached me about a reunion and then not even had the decency to show up or telephone. And then, a thought struck me. Maybe this was pay back for me keeping him at bay for so long, maybe he had grown tired of waiting for me to come back home. The very thought had me feeling both angry and remorseful. On one hand, I never wanted to leave him in the first place, it was a struggle to get up and walk away, but on another hand, he was not doing right by me, and took the choice of me staying, right out of my hands with his antics. Either way, I needed to know where we stood at that moment, and if Robert Knight thought he could hide from me and get away with it, he had another think coming.
As the cab turned to drive down the block, a police officer came up to the window and told us that there was no traffic coming and going except cops.
"What happened?" the cabbie asked
"A shooting," the officer replied.
After the officer walked back to his post, the cabbie turned to look at me.
"What do you want to do, buddy?" he asked.
I looked at the crowd and the police vehicles and decided that I would just walk in. I paid the fare and got out. Walking up the block, I noticed that an ambulance was in the process of putting in a patient in the back. There was blood all over the persons' body and clothes, making it hard for me to determine whether it was a man, woman or child. A second vehicle marked MANHATTAN MORGUE was putting a body bag into the back. I spotted a man beside me watching the goings on intently and asked him if he knew what was going on or who was shot. He turned to me and said words that I thought would make my heart stop, "It's Robert Knight. Probably some crazed fan upset that he turned out to be a faggot. Gotta say though, I ain't sorry to see him dead." I looked at him, my mouth agape, and a lump caught in my throat. It was déjà vu all over again.
"What?" I cried. "Are you sure?" I implored.
"Yeah, saw them bring him out in a body bag and heard from security that the cops shot the shooter." He looked up at me, a look of disgust on his face, "What? You a fan of that faggot?"
I couldn't speak, I couldn't breath, and it was as if I was put in a whirl-wind vacuum, my insides being sucked out. I looked over to where I had seen the body bag being lifted into the truck, and shock grasped me. A hand was hanging out, its' wrist adorned with a gold bracelet. A gold bracelet that I had given Bobby within our first few weeks of dating. And that was all it took to send me over the edge. I felt my knees give way before my head and body met the concrete street.
SORRY, SORR, SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. I'VE BEEN DEALING WITH A LOT OF PERSONAL ISSUES. ANYWAY, IS ANY ONE STILL INTERESTED? LET ME KNOW IF I'M WASTING MY TIME WRITING THIS OR IF I SHOULD CONTINUE. THANKS AND PLEASE SEND COMMENTS, GOOD, BAD AND UGLY.