- Black Gold 2 - Double Black (10 page)

“Do you see it too? The way that kid is all over him?” Jett asked when they were safely outside. If Robbie didn’t, Jett had no choice but to believe he’d lost what was left of his mind.

Robbie held out his hand for a cigarette. “You tell my wife I smoked, I’ll pitch you over the rail.”
“Yeah, ’cause that’s what I’m known for. Jett Black: big old narc.”

Robbie grinned as Jett gave him a light. “Yeah. I saw it. He’s Goldie. Ignoring that sort of shit is what he does. ’Sides, he was pretty distracted by kids sucking on the carts and how big the bags of chips are. I’d watch the shit out of that Cole kid, but you don’t gotta shove Goldie at him. Or maybe you do. If you don’t trust Goldie, might as well give up now. Because seein’ shit like what you saw is what he sees you doin’ every day.”

Jett frowned and propped his ass against the railing as he took a long drag. Exhaling through his nostrils, he peered through the glass doors into the bedroom, at the bed he’d shared with Billy since they moved here.

The wind was strong on the hill. It blew Jett’s hair every which way and obscured his face. He was grateful Robbie couldn’t see the desperation in his eyes. He used the few seconds before he shoved his hair behind his ears to pull it together.

“I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to be doing or with whom. I try not to know. What I do know is that I love Billy, even if I don’t understand one other fucking thing in our lives.” Jett gestured with broad strokes of his hands that painted gray smoke against the blue sky. “I always kiss him good night, and I kiss him before I leave for work in the morning. I thought that was what I was supposed to be doing.”

Robbie snorted and fixed Jett with an unimpressed stare. “What, you think you’re some sixties husband, like Don Draper from
Mad Men?
Didn’t know you were such a traditional-marriage sorta guy. That puts a whole new spin on the issue, don’t it?”

The older man shook his head and put out his cigarette on the rail. “Maybe you really don’t understand what’s goin’ on. But you know, instead of coming out here and tellin’ that to Robbie, maybe you go in there and tell Goldie what you don’t understand. You don’t got the balls to do that, you’re not so much confused as looking for a way out.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Jett grunted and stabbed out his cigarette. “You gonna look me in the face today of all days and tell me taking Goldie off the reservation is an easy task? What if something like that happened on my watch? That was just Kmart. That’s like Disneyland compared to the shit factories I go to.”

Jett wanted to dry heave thinking about it. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and tried to breathe. “I can take care of myself. I lived in the bad part of the Bronx, hung out with drug dealers, and played the worst clubs in the world for over a decade. But I can’t take care of either of us if Billy’s there. I’d be distracted, he’d be torn limb from limb, and I’d be standing there responsible.”

He didn’t know what he was supposed to tell Billy. That he loved him? He did that already. That he was worried about the Cole thing? Ditto. And if Billy really wanted to accompany Jett to places like that, he’d suck it up no matter how much it scared him.

He noticed Robbie’s expectant look and rolled his eyes. “I’m going, okay? I’m going.”

 

Jett pushed open the doors and stepped into the shelter of the bedroom.

Billy sat on the edge of their bed, his expression so dejected that Jett felt another stab of guilt. There didn’t seem to be a right thing to say.
Clove smoke clung to Jett’s long hair and stung his eyes now that the wind wasn’t blowing it away from him. He went into the bathroom, picked up the flannel shirt, and pulled it on over his faded black beater.
When he returned to the bedroom, Robbie had already gone.

Jett swallowed his frustration and joined Billy on the edge of the bed. He slipped his arm around him tentatively, half-afraid Billy would reject his touch.

 

“I’m sorry you got hurt today, baby. Thank you for my shirt. I fucking love it.” Billy brightened and wrapped his arms around Jett. “I thought you were going to go again. You’re always leaving.”

That sounded so pathetic it almost broke Jett’s heart. Nothing he could think to say in response seemed adequate.
As Jett sought words, Billy pulled away and folded his hands in his lap. “I thought if I showed you I could go out in public, maybe you’d invite me with you sometimes.”
Oh, sweet angel.
Rationale dissolving, Jett snatched Billy’s hands, dragged them around him, and gathered him close to kiss each ouchie. He brushed his lips against the bruises and cuts, trying to be gentle because his lips were rough.
“You’re always invited, Billy. You’re part of me. I can’t uninvite you any more than I can uninvite my own fucking lungs.”

“I thought you… I mean, you see what happens when I go out.” Billy sniffled and nestled against Jett’s chest. “I couldn’t help thinking that if you were there, it wouldn’t happen. I wore my hat like it would protect me.”

Billy clinging made Jett feel like a hero, if a failed one. He cradled Billy in his arms and wished he could live up to that faith in him.

 

Failure or not, Billy seemed to draw comfort from Jett’s closeness.

“That fucker grabbed my hat, and it was
our
hat from when I met you, and I…I’m an idiot. I guess I must’ve thought it was magical or something and no one would recognize me. But then it was gone, and I was just so pissed. It was part of our history, and I couldn’t just let someone take it. I dove into the crowd.”

Of course he did.
Jett felt a wild rush of pride and pulled Billy into his lap. He rested their foreheads together and rocked Billy as he kissed his face. Jett’s heart pounded that Billy—sweet, gentle Billy—had attacked a stranger for taking that hat.

“It’s that important to you to hold on to our past?” Jett wasn’t used to asking questions like that, but Robbie was right: either he had the balls to talk, or he gave up.
Jett Black didn’t give up.

Billy stared into Jett’s eyes. “It is for me. Isn’t it for you? It seemed worth fighting for.”
“I’m like a shark. If I stop swimming, I’ll drown. Life like mine, looking back does more harm than good. There’d be too much room for regret.” Jett paused, holding Billy’s gaze, and skimmed his hands over the bare torso like he could erase the bruises and scrapes. “But I’ll never forget our history together, baby. I’m glad you saved the hat. Proud.”
Billy slid his arms around Jett’s neck. “Really? Proud? I’ll probably get sued. I’m lucky I’m not in jail. But the guy did steal it. I know that’s not a reason for violence. I guess I could’ve just bought it off eBay or hoped that the police could retrieve it, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I’ve had to let parts of you go, and I’m not willing to let the pieces I can control out of my sight.”
Jett frowned. He didn’t know what Billy meant, or what Robbie had meant earlier either. He felt like something was going on under his nose that no one had bothered to clue him in on. It made him feel stupid.
Most musician couples didn’t spend much time in the same city, let alone sleep in the same bed every night. Jett had thought he was doing pretty well, but now he wondered. He’d always felt pride at how well he met Billy’s needs. His years of fidelity and willingness to give his boyfriend anything had made him feel enlightened—like he’d made a real change in his life—but maybe he was kidding himself.
“I’ve been sued lots of goddamn times, and it always worked out okay. Most of the time, crazy fans just wanna meet you. They’ll apologize and get their picture taken and hug you and drop the suit.”
Jett knew he was running parallel to the meat of the problem, but he couldn’t bring himself to tackle it head-on. Maybe he was a coward. It didn’t mean he was giving up.
Plunging onward. “Anyway, I’m fucking proud of you. The public will blame this on me and say it’s my bad influence, but fuck them in the earwax, right?”
Billy’s eyes were glassy, but he smiled and cupped Jett’s face. “They’d be right. I thought—and don’t laugh at me—but I thought, ‘This is how Jett must feel.’ It was such a surge of adrenaline, and I don’t think I ever would’ve done anything like that without you. Maybe if I’m a little more like you, things like that won’t happen to me.”

“Oh, baby, do you think things like that don’t happen to me too?” Jett sighed and cradled Billy, wanting to protect him from the world. “I’m just too much of an asshole for people to care as much about me as they do you.”

That sounded self-pitying, and Jett didn’t intend it like that. Articulating these things gave him fits. He hardly knew where to begin, and it often stayed his tongue when he knew he should communicate.

Jett bit his lip and looked away. He couldn’t imagine Billy brawling, and he didn’t want to. That was why he didn’t give Billy a crash course in street smarts. Jett could tell if someone was carrying a gun just by the way they walked or how their shirt hung on their frame, and it changed how he saw the world and the people moving through it. If Billy looked at the world with those eyes, that sweetness so integral to his nature would be lost.

That said, Billy could stand to be a lot more assertive before he became a jerk. Jett
liked
when Billy was assertive.

Rallying, Jett tried again. “I hardly even like my fans. So many are poseurs, or I don’t know. It’s like my message never sinks in. But you thrive on finding out that some gay kid in Nowheresville didn’t kill himself because you’re such a sterling example of humanity. It’s a lot of pressure.”

Jett stopped and leaned back on the bed to get a better look at Billy. “It’s too much pressure, isn’t it?”
Billy looked distant, like he was trying to process what pressure was. He’d been so young when he found fame that he probably had no idea what life would be like without it.
“I want to be a good example. But I don’t want people to think that they can rip me apart.” He was quiet for a moment, seeming to struggle to articulate his thoughts as much as Jett had. “Do I embarrass you? Is that why you don’t invite me to go out with you?”

“No! I just said you’re always invited.” Jett’s head hurt. His gaze wandered the room, seeking a reference point to make sense of the conversation. He wondered if there was some trap waiting to be sprung the next time he spoke.

But this was his Billy. His Billy wouldn’t do things like that.

 

Jett trusted him with a terrified hopefulness that propelled the next words out of his mouth. “Do you want to go out with me more?”

The question brimmed with the anxiety Jett tried never to reveal. It sounded like some wimp talking, someone who didn’t deserve to be living with The Goldie. To cover, Jett gave Billy what he hoped was an alluring look: trademark cocky smile, mischievously sparkling eyes.

It did nothing to change Billy’s intensity. “I hate waking up alone. I don’t see you all day. Or if I do, it’s on one of those loathsome TV magazines, and it’s just awful.” He let out a heavy sigh and rested his forehead against Jett’s. “But I trust you. It’s just hard, because even if I’m not watching those shows, someone messages me. I get it. I know better than anyone how out of context those things are.”

Jett felt a pang of guilt and nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t even know about the dustup when I raced home. I was just talking with Pauly, trying to get him interested in putting out his next album with Black Gold Records, and then the bartender comes up with his goddamn iPhone and shows me that Cole kid hanging all over you in a fucking Kmart, and like…the people were speculating on you wanting a newer model…”

Billy tilted his head to the side, then raised a brow like something had just occurred to him. He seemed saddened by the realization and shook his head.

Unable to voice the tumult of contrary emotions and thoughts, Jett watched him. Frustration won out. “But I mean, I’m so good now! I don’t know what they’d have to talk about. ‘Jett sat at a middle-class café for an hour and had a cantaloupe and coffee. Jett talked to a moderately talented lead singer of an extraordinarily talented backing band. Jett scratched his goddamn nose.’”

“They just wait for moments when, like, the other day some girl whispered something in your ear. They skew perspective so it looks like you’re leaning over the table to kiss someone when you’re probably just getting up to have a smoke. People show me those images, and when I try to explain—because it’s happened to me too— they act like I’m in denial. I guess at a certain point I start to wonder if maybe I am. Then you come home, and I feel bad for ever doubting you.”

Billy touched Jett’s face, tracing the pierced arches of his brows. “The thing is, I get tired of arguing with them, and so I stop talking to this person and that person, and soon I find myself at home alone bothering Grace and Hasani for conversation. I mean, the thing with the iPhone… I’ll admit, Cole was holding my hand, but I felt like an alien in that place, and I thought he was trying to keep me from getting lost. But what you saw, out of context. That happens every day, and I don’t want to be a nag or like I’m that insecure. It just gets hard sometimes. And lonely.”

“You’re lonely?” Jett’s lungs resisted absorbing oxygen. His chest hurt. He crawled up the bed to rest his head on a pillow and stared at Billy, trying to take in what he was seeing with fresh eyes. He wanted to forgive Billy, and if it wasn’t really about Cole, if it was something Jett could fix…

He wanted to give Billy everything he had, but he didn’t know how.

Billy lay on his side next to Jett. “During the day, yeah. You don’t do phones, and I stopped talking to people. It’s hard to go places without getting mobbed. I probably should’ve let Cole go alone, but I was sick of being here by myself.”

Without mirth or malice, Billy laughed. “He is so much your son. I mean, saying ‘fuck the man’ to fashion designers by purchasing ugly clothes most likely sewn by children is a strange place to take a moral stand. But if you tilt your head just so…”

Anger flared as Jett sat and stared down at Billy. “You really fucking want that kid to be mine, don’t you? I mean, you really fucking do. I’m not imagining this. You probably want to just ask him to move in and hang out and—” Jett gesticulated wildly, hands flicking through the air like he could slap the atmosphere itself. “Whatever. You can have this nice, tame little Jett-alike to hang out with all day while I’m trying to make our goddamn label work.”