Saying Goodbye (5 page)

What was he to do? Compete with Alex? Mark had just turned forty-two last November.
He could not compete with his son!
And he refused to allow the jealousy
to
tear him and
his
beloved boy apart.

“Adam.” Mark tried not to collapse to the floor he was so exhausted. “Leave it. All of it. It’s past. Nothing can be done. My baby is doing his film in Rome. He will be my shining star.”

“Yeah?” Adam was still fuming, snarling. “And Steve? Blaming you for having to fix the shit he and that idiot captain did?”

“No. Not blaming. Suffering.” Mark dabbed at his eyes.

“So you fucked Randy?”

Mark didn’t answer.
He couldn’t
put the words out there to be verified.

“Did he fuck you? Suck you?” Adam began to get as enraged as Steve had been, still was. “Does Jack know?”

Mark, shaking, reached into his pocket and removed a vial.

The moment Adam saw it, he pushed Mark’s hand back into his pocket. “I’m sorry. Mark. It’s okay. You’re right. It’s done. Okay? Baby. I love you. I love you.” Adam held him, kissing Mark’s cheek and neck.

Mark felt him trying to get at the vial, but Mark had it clenched
in his fist inside his pocket. Nearly t
hirty pills.

Adam
released
his grip on Mark’s hand and stepped back. “Eat a little.” He reached out for Mark.

Mark said, “I have a shoot next week.”

Adam put his arm around Mark and led him down the hall to the stairs. “We’ll find something low in calorie
s
.”

Mark said nothing, looking down from the top floor at the estate
s
’
interior
. It was not the same. He recognized nothing.

~

Jack stood beside Steve as the men ate from the gourmet buffet and drank expensive booze.

“Think we made enough of an appearance?” Steve said quietly to Jack. They each held a glass of whiskey in their hand.

“I’m too tired for the fucking fight
with Adam if we leave
.”
Jack noticed both Adam and Mark enter the kitchen. Even the breakfast nook had been removed, opening the space to one enormous area, complete with new white marble floors and counters. Yes, the view of the back
swimming
pool was still there, but Ewan and Jason would never think of removing it.
Or the basketball court, or the stables…

Steve reacted immediately, setting his glass down and approaching Mark.

The age old battle had begun
,
Mark and food.

Jack sipped his drink, feeling detached at the moment, listening to something Steve had said, which disturbed him. Something had happened when Mark had gone to see Randy Dawson? It wasn’t a chat over coffee?

What the fuck?

Jack thought that was all settled. Mark said nothing. Steve was on edge, as if he were a ticking time bomb, and Jack had never seen the four of them so uneasy.

Even their four-way sex on the weekends had become strained. Mark lay there. Lay there and allowed them to fuck him, stick their cocks in his
ass and
mouth, but when they tried to make him come? Mark nudged them away with the same excuses. Too tired
; p
reoccupied.

The four of them using Mark as a pincushion wasn’t that unusual, actually. More the norm. But
after they had been satisfied,
the
y descended on Mark and the three
of them were able to make him come.

Since this ‘coffee with Randy’, Mark was resisting them.

Jack had
seen Mark at his worst. One suicide attempt while they were in college together, living in
an apartment off campus
, and the second one, when Alexander and Steve’s behavior made Mark feel as if he was going to lose his husband to his son.

Again, Mark was in the ER getting his stomach pumped
of pills
. These were no vain attempts. Mark Antonious hated himself
; h
ated the aging process, becoming undesirable because he thought all he had going for him was his beauty. Mark was so wrong. The man was generous, kind, loving, and modest to a fault. There was nothing ugly inside Mark to make anything that happened to him as he moved through the decades any less desirable.

But
try telling him that.

Milt Richfield had done a good job. Mark was filled with self-loathing and lacked confidence.
The Nation’s Top
Male
Model was one of the most insecure men Jack had ever met. Maybe that was why he worshiped the ground Mark walked on. Jack’s life’s work was defending the weak, in law.

How
Mark could be so filled with self-doubt,
when the world adored
Mark
,
lov
ed him for his cologne and car ads, Jack did not know. But he saw it coming. Steve was right. Something had happened that day when Mark
was forced to straighten out th
e mess Steve and Billy had made;
Alex almost losing his contract for his first big blockbuster movie.

Stupid fucking LAPD cops
. Jack shook his head.
Well earned reputations for assholes.

Steve and Adam nudged Mark to the buffet table where
several of the men were eating while
standing up, plates full…

Ewan and Jason were the perfect hosts, smiling, laughing, pouring drinks, listening to Danny and Donny tell of how they met their significant others
…
double trouble, those two
identical twins
.

There i
t
was
,
Mark’s refusal of food.

How predictable.

Richfield shaking his head, no, pushing
a
plate of
nothing but
salad leaves away as Steve tried to make him eat.

Unable to witness the self destruction,
Jack finished his drink and left the room. He did a walkthrough of the entire home. He knew it as well as Mark did. Every inch.

The game room where Milt had his vintage pool table, one that Mark had made sure he had sex on, was gone. In its place was a
modern
man-cave, filled with electronic video games, old fashioned pinball machines, a juke box, posters of movies on the walls: ‘
Murphy’s Hero’
, of course, and all the
Star Wars
films and even a few British films that Jack had seen over the years, ‘
Sunday, Bloody, Sunday’
…
‘
Trainspotting
’…
‘
My Beautiful Launderette
’.

Jack ran his hand down the slender trim on a corner of a wall. The heavy dark wood that stunk of cigars was gone. He continued walking down the hall. The home movie theater was still there, but the seats had been swapped out for recliners, with vibrating massaging and heat, a popcorn machine was near the screen, and more film paraphernalia hung on the walls. No. This did not even resemble the Richfield manor.

Stainless steel gleamed, the wallpaper had been replaced with paint, and the heavy trim had been redone with narrow modern wood.

Noise behind him made him look. A group of the men were laughing as they made their way in.

“Jack!” Pete appeared surprised to see him. “Ewan has some great gay porn films
from the UK
.
He’s showing them on the big
screen
.
How’s that for economic stimuli?”

Jack tried to smile. “Sounds great.”

Ewan held up the DVD. “Oy, cocks nearly as big as your mate’s. Takes three blokes to take ‘im on
in a blowjob
.”

Jack assumed Ewan was referring to Mark, since Mark did a naked spread in a UK gay magazine ages ago.
Ewan’s accent was so thick, Jack was struggling to understand him.

Jack
said nothing, but nodded.

The room filled, the new reclining seats admired and when the guys figured out they vibrated the off color jokes began to fly.

Jack got a wink from Blake, a crazed smile from Josh and
,
of course, his three men were missing.

As he left the room, Tanner asked, “Are you coming back?”

“Sure.” Jack wasn’t.

Keith and Carl stopped Jack as he left. “Mark’s not doing well this weekend
,
is he?”

“He’ll be fine.” Jack didn’t think what went on between Mark and Randy was anyone’s business, and he left the rest to assume it had to do with the house and Mark’s memories of his father.

But in all honesty? Milt and Leslie Richfield had vanished from this home. Nothing was left of them. Nothing.

~

Billy checked the time. He walked through the police precinct looking for Mickey and Jeff. Then he realized the moment he spotted a roll call
session
letting out, that they had gone off shift.

As he
walk
ed through the halls, the officers saluted him, which was unnecessary but understood.

Billy twisted the gold band around his finger anxiously, knowing he had stacks of paperwork to go through. And in that stack was a transfer. Jeff Chandler
was
going to
be moved from West Bureau, West LA, to
…
Central. One signature and Jeff was gone. Billy was even tempted to move Jeff to a totally different shift, but then he and Mickey would never see each other.

He got the
voicemail
message from Mark
warning him not to separate the two men.
Was he going to allow Mark Richfield
,
s
poiled fucking brat model, pampered by three cocks
,
to pressure him to not do the right thing?

He checked the locker room but Jeff and Mickey had left.

Billy headed to the commander’s
locker
room and changed into a pair of sweat pants and tank top.

He hung up his uniform and gun belt,
and
then headed to the division’s gym. After giving his shredded knuckles a look, Billy began punching and kicking the weight bag, taking out his pent up anger and
sexual
frustration on it and himself.

A few officers came and went, none doing a damn thing, as if Billy was going ballistic and should be left alone. And they were right.

Jeff sat in the passenger’s side of Mickey’s pickup truck as they drov
e home. They had an arrangement.
W
hen Jeff drove on duty, Mickey drove them to
and from
work, and
vice
versa.
They alternated.

Since Mickey and he had married, they lived together in Jeff’s townhouse in Anaheim. Mickey’s sister Aura lived in an apartment in Cerritos. They occasionally stopped by for Mickey’s mail, since he was still using her home as his address.

Jeff looked at his hands. They were so used to hiding the fact that they had gotten married, they never wore their wedding rings. At the moment, he couldn’t recall where his was.

It didn’t matter. When he did wear it, it drove him crazy since he wasn
’
t used to it. And he didn’t need a piece of gold jewelry or a piece of paper to tell him or the world, he and Mickey were together
…
‘til death.

Mickey appeared preoccupied. They both were. Being a cop was bad enough. But being a gay cop?

Were they out? No.

If Billy split them up? Yes! That would be it for them.

Try getting back up from the rank and file after you’re out
ted
.

Basically, if Billy split them up, it would be a death sentence.

Jeff reached for Mickey. The shooting at the bank? That was close enough. He didn’t want to see his lover in the ER with a bullet wound, ever again.

“Babe?”

“Huh?” Mickey lowered the loud rock music that was playing as they made their drive home.

“If
…
or should I say,
when
…
Billy splits us up
…
I’m going to put in my notice.”

Mickey glanced at Jeff quickly then focused on the road. “What will you do?”

“I don’t know. I can’t ride patrol without you. You saw what happened. And if he separates us? The guys will want to know why. You know how it is. Telegraph, telephone, tell-a-cop. We’ll be out. So far out,
our
back up will vanish.”

Mickey’s expression hardened.

“And,” Jeff said, “We work
in
We-Ho. Mick.
They love us there. The guys, the shop owners, know we’re
cool with them being gay
.
Some even assume we are.
Ya know?”

Mickey held Jeff’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “If you quit, so w
ill
I.”

“What the fuck can we do? I mean, we’re
a year shy of thirty.”

“You are. I got two years until that dreaded milestone.”

“I mean, I don’t want to go back to college. What would I major in?”

Mickey pulled the truck into their assigned covered space, beside Jeff’s Mustang. He shut off the ignition and climbed out.

Jeff followed, carrying his gun waist pack with his Glock in
side
it.

Mickey unlocked their door and turned on lights. He tossed his own gun pack down on the kitchen table and took off his jacket.

Jeff shut the door and placed his gun beside Mickey’s
, then his jacket on top of Mick’s
. “He’s going to do it.”

“And I know why.” Mickey took two beers out of the refrigerator, handing one to Jeff. “He’s just pissed off
because
he thinks Alex will cheat. You know this has nothing to do with you and me.”

Jeff tossed the beer cap into the garbage and took a swig, ruminating over the thought.

Mickey drank the beer like water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jeff loved the look in his eye.

Yeah, they were nervous about shit. But
…
the sex? Well, there was nothing like it.

Jeff tried to guzzle the beer because Mickey had ‘attack-mode’ written all over him at the moment. And other than the blowjobs today, they had been very ‘good’ on duty. Sneaking kisses and touches, but that was it, out or pure paranoia.

Mickey appeared impatient.

Jeff chugged the beer down and tossed the glass bottle in the sink, letting go a loud burp.

Mickey stalked him.

To tease, Jeff avoided his grasp, backing up, keeping just out of reach. He was about to
race up the staircase to their bedroom when Mickey tackled him at the knees. Mickey, the bigger of the two of them, pinned Jeff to the carpeted stairs.

Though Jeff wanted to laugh at the fun, he said, “Hey, ya fucking pig! Get your filthy hands off me.”

“Fuck you, Chandler.” Mickey went for
the
zipper of
Jeff’
s jeans.

“Fuck you, pig!” Jeff tried to get away, crawling up the stairs. As he did, his pants and briefs were dragged down his legs.

Mickey bit Jeff’s bottom playfully and Jeff had to laugh. It was too much fun. “You fuck
-head
! I’m topping!” Jeff tried to get to his knees to crawl.

“Like hell.” Mickey yanked off Jeff’s shoes and then the lower half of Jeff’s clothing.

Jeff used the advantage to scramble up to their bedroom, going for the bathroom door.

Mickey was there in a flash, putting a police hold on Jeff and using pain compliance to get Jeff face down on the bed.

“You better rim me, ya dirty pig
.
” Jeff’s face was pushed into the bedding.

“Yeah, if ya showered, ya douche bag!”

Jeff felt a wet finger push into his ass. “Auugh! Let me shower, ya cocksucker!”

“Fuck. You!”

Jeff’s face was pressed to the bed and he knew Mickey was
rummaging through their nightstand for the lube.

Jeff fought back, spinning over and using a choke hold on Mickey to subdue him. Mickey went crazy, wrenching Jeff’s hands off his neck and grabbing Jeff’s wrists, pushing them against the mattress. “You move and I’ll knee ya in the groin.”

“You would.” Jeff tried to catch his breath.

Mickey pointed at him. “Don’t you fucking move.”

Jeff didn’t, watching Mickey strip and get the lubrication.
“Fuck you, bitch!
Let me shower
.
I want your tongue in my ass
.
”

Mickey growled and yanked Jeff off the bed, using another police hold, an arm-bar, forcing Jeff into the bathroom. Jeff winced in pain and could see them both now in the mirror over the sink. With one hand Mickey kept Jeff under control, with the other, he grabbed a washcloth.

“Turn on the water
,
” Mickey ordered.

Jeff, with his free hand, did. “Fucking wimp. Washing my ass? You pussy ass prick.”

“Shut the fuck up
.
” Mickey admini
stered more pain to quiet Jeff
, then took the wet washcloth and ran it between Jeff’s ass cheeks.

Jeff moaned and closed his eyes. He spread his legs and pressed his free hand inside the sink for balance. Mickey was rough with the wet cloth, using it to stimulate as well as clean Jeff.

“Oh, fuck, Stanton.” Jeff began to swoon and his cock throbbed.

Mickey released the arm-hold and tossed the cloth into the tub, then dropped to his knees.

Jeff lost sight of him in the mirror and rested his head on his arms on the sink vanity. Mickey spread Jeff’s ass cheeks and dove in, tongue first.

Jeff moaned,
the sound
echoing in the bathroom. “Fuck me you filthy pig.”

Jeff was dragged roughly back to the bed and bent over it. He fell and braced himself, getting off on their rough love.

Mickey spread Jeff’s legs as wide as Jeff could manage, and chewed and lapped at Jeff’s ass.

Jeff’s cock was thick under him and he craved jerking off. “Fuck me
,
y
ou stupid asshole!”

“Shut up!” Mickey swatted Jeff’s bottom so hard it stung.

A pause followed where Jeff tried to think, but that was gone the minute Mickey pushed his slick fingers up Jeff’s ass. “Oh, fuck! Fuck! You ass! You nasty cock
-
sucking pig!” Jeff arched his back and bucked on the bed as Mickey nearly fisted him.

Both Jeff’s shoulders were gripped and Mickey
’s
muscular weight landed on Jeff. He was impaled by Mickey’s cock and shouted out in pain
just before
the friction began to heat him up.

Mickey hauled Jeff
onto his knees
and then jerked
him
off as he fucked him, hard. Jeff gripped the bed to not get thrown off
.

“Fuck! Augh fuck!” Mickey screamed.

Jeff felt Mickey’s cock go thick and hard. “Jerk me faster, you stupid asshole!”

Mickey did, hammering into Jeff at the same time.

When the climax hit
,
Jeff nearly passed out. The sex with his cop lover/husband was a drug, and they were both addicts.

He came, coughing and grunting at the same time as Mickey’s hand became slicker with Jeff’s cum.

Then they both dropped flat on the bed, gasping for breath.

Jeff couldn’t breathe or talk he was so sapped.

In his ear Mickey whispered, “I love you, you fucking prick.”

Jeff smiled and could sleep right where he was.