The Gift (4 page)

He hissed at the tile on the stairs and stopped. "Cold! I need shoes. Or socks. Or something—" His arm was yanked, his words disregarded, and August was forced to follow, muttering grumpily, waiting at the heavy door to the lobby while Doren poked his head out.

"Okay," Doren whispered, grinning like a twelve-year-old playing hooky. "All clear, come on."

"We can't go in there," August said when they reached the far end of the hall, suspiciously eyeing the sign on the door that Doren reached for. "The sign says it's closed until seven."

Doren waved him off. "I go where I want." Then he turned to flash another smile. "This is so cool! Just wait until you see it."

There was no other word August could come up with but "Wow!" He stood in awe, staring around at what he was sure was one of the most enchanting spaces he'd seen in his life: concrete walls painted with images of robe-clad bathers and flitting cupids, clouds, flowers and birds. An alluring mist drifted along the surface of a crystalline pool. "It looks like one of those Roman bathhouses. What is it?"

Doren smiled, flicking one of the light switches, and the pool was suddenly illuminated from under the water. "I knew you'd like it. It's a salt-water pool. Neat, hunh?"

"Yes, actually. What makes the water all misty like that?"

"It's heated." Doren's eyes fell to the front of August's pants, smirking. "And as we can both see the room is chilly. So, voila. Fog."

August's cheeks flushed; he crossed his arms and shifted self-consciously. "Mist," he corrected. "Not fog. And you're a pig."

Doren shrugged. "Nah, just a man. One would think you'd understand. Come on." Before August could stop him, Doren popped open his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them while he pulled off his top.

Once again August found himself struggling for something more than the "holy crap" that took up every single thought process in his mind. August's face began to burn. Without a word Doren turned, naked as they day he'd been born, and dove into the pool. Water broke to grant him entry, his body illuminated by the underwater lighting, and God but he was beautiful. August had never seen anyone quite like him. Not that he'd spent a lot of time with actual in-your-face naked men. But he'd seen enough porn to know that Doren's body was one of the good ones.

Doren popped through the surface of the pool, shaking water out of his dark hair. "You coming?"

"Uh, no? I didn't bring a suit."

"So?" August wasn't sure whether to take Doren's lifted eyebrow as smug or confused. "Neither did I."

August glared and pursed his lips. "Forget it."

Doren shrugged and leaned back in the water, floating on the surface. "Come in like that then."

The pool did look inviting. And it was pretty cold standing there on the concrete floor. "What if we get caught?"

"Come on, Auggie!" Doren patted the water beside him. "Don't be a suck. When will you ever get to experience something like this again? Besides, what if I start to drown or something? I'll need you to save me." He righted himself and walked towards the edge of the pool, reaching teasingly for August's ankles. "Don't make me come get you."

August cast his eyes around the room, unsure. No one was around. But what if someone came in? Did he have anything to lose other than some soggy clothes? Would they get in trouble? He hovered at the edge of the pool, gingerly testing the water with his foot. "Don't pull me in, okay?"

Doren laughed and before August realized what Doren was doing, he'd grabbed the ankle he'd been threatening and gave a good, solid tug. There was no recovering from it. Attempting grace, failing miserably, August tried to twist into a dive but managed no more than shutting eyes and mouth before he was struggling back to the surface, breaking clear with an angry sputter.

"Don't tell me what to do," Doren said, his voice low and amused. Then he was gone, twisting like a fish and disappearing into the foggy water.

As much as August was ready to kill, he had to admit it was a pretty cool sensation: the warm water, buoyant from the salt, seeming to whisper at him to drop back down into the brine and enjoy the heat, to dip into the swirling mass over the surface. It was a lure August chose not to resist. Doren was floating again with his eyes closed and a lazy smile lifting the corners of his mouth and August followed suit, sighing as quietly as he could manage, lying back and relaxing sleepily in the womb-like aura.

The room was silent but for the echoed swish of moving water and the constant drip of resettling droplets until Doren began to hum: a soft, murmuring chord that filled the room and echoed against the walls, bouncing back to weave together with the new tones coming again. August thought he could place it and yet, when he tried, it seemed to slip away from him. It was like one of those songs from way back in childhood, or in a dream somewhere along the way, but that he hadn't heard for a long, long time since. He listened for a moment, letting the notes sink their way into the depths of his memory before curiosity got the better of him. "What is that? What are you singing?"

"You don't know it?"

The much cooler air pricked August's skin with exhilarating goose bumps while the warm, light water teased around the rest of his body. It was an odd, not entirely pleasant, not entirely negative, sensation. "No. Maybe. It's familiar. Tell me?"

Without opening his eyes, Doren reached for August, his hand trailing through the water, searching, waving, but August didn't let Doren make contact. "Would you believe me if I told you?"

It seemed as though the sounds of the room had faded into one note: a dreamy, pick-you-up-and-take-you-away kind of chord. It had to be the pool, the weird, floaty feeling of the salt-water and the strange warm-yet-cold sensation of the pool versus the air. Because August was starting to feel a little disconnected from the floor underneath him and more than a bit lightheaded. "Of course, why wouldn't I believe you?"

Doren opened his eyes, caught August's gaze and held it. "It's the water, Auggie. This is the music that the water makes. Listen close, maybe you can hear it." He started to hum again and the music slipped around them, as if in time with the swirling water. When Doren spoke again his voice was quiet. "You remember, right? When you were a kid? You'd slide under the water in the tub and listen to that soft thrum, thrum, thrum. And the way the water sounded when it moved: that shish, swish, shish. Can you hear it, Aug?"

And damned but if his memory wasn't tingling with the all but forgotten feeling of it.

"Give me your hand," Doren murmured. "Give me your hand and I'll show you."

August wasn't sure if he reached consciously for Doren. Truthfully, he was almost sure he didn't. It was like something inside him reached out instead. Their fingers touched and a small flash of electricity pulsed through August's blood. And then the softest sound he had ever tried to define slipped into his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to find it, trying to hear it. No, August decided, it wasn't there at all. He'd just been imagining it. Or … perhaps … their hands, their fingers were barely touching … maybe if August slipped their hands all the way together he would hear more …

And suddenly everything was distorted by a loud bang as the door to the pool slammed open and the room filled with the busy chatter of children.

August yanked his hand away and Doren disappeared under the water with a splash. He turned towards two preteens, skinny bodies clad in tight swimwear, preparing a space with towels and pop cans and an iPod, getting an early start on the day before the older folks got there and hushed them into controlled silence. August grimaced when he saw Doren's clothing in a pile almost right beside the kids' developing nest. As quietly as he could manage, August swam to the other side of the pool and pulled himself from the water, dripping, instantly cold. He grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around his middle, squeezing the water from his hair and had to choke back at laugh when Doren's head popped out of the water only inches away. "A little help here?"

As though on swivels, both of the young girls turned their heads in the direction of his voice. August groaned, his mind desperately repeating, "Please don't recognize his voice, please." He hushed Doren with a finger, the headlines already floating through his mind:
Rock star exposes himself to twelve-year-old girls in hotel; parents mortified, children traumatized, public in hysterics!
He could walk over and get Doren's clothes, but that would probably end up drawing more attention. Instead, he tightened the towel at his waist and peeled his soaking pajama pants off.

"Here." August thrust the pants under the surface of the water. "Be quick. And be quiet." Doren held the patterned flannel up, disdain and disbelief darkening his face. "Just do it!" August hissed.

Short of another towel, Doren had no other options. With a disgusted click of his tongue, he reached into the water and struggled into the pants. He was slim, which helped, but nowhere near as small as August was. The pants were still way too tight and all August could think of was stuffed sausage as Doren climbed his way out of the pool. August couldn't help himself, he laughed as he wrapped a towel around Doren and the soaked cloth. Doren flashed him a look of murder, which only made August laugh again. "Come on. Let's get out of here before you're seen. Leave your clothes, I'll get them later."

It was August's turn to pull Doren to the door, but when they reached it, Doren stopped. He looked at August, and then turned back to the pool where both girls suddenly spun in his direction. He flashed them a smile and a wink, and, exasperated, August dragged Doren into the hall as the excited peals of joy and disbelief began to bounce around the walls of the poolroom.

He still couldn't believe the two of them been in the poolroom for over an hour. It felt like minutes, seconds. He sat in August's hotel room as August made coffee in the little four-cup machine that came with the room. Doren had changed into the hotel robe; his hair drying into crazy peaks while he watched August bustle around the teeny space of the "kitchen" area and mused silently over how much smaller August's room was than his. Weird, considering they were right beside each other, but perhaps that's how it had been designed back in the day. Maybe the rooms were meant to house someone important who would be traveling with someone unimportant. Not that he thought August was, by any means. A good assistant was worth their weight in gold and all … or whatever the hell Anton had told him. And if August had managed to capture his attention while standing in that god-awful navy polyester blend, then August was certainly worth having around if for nothing more than entertainment value. Besides, watching August hustle down the hall with nothing but his wet shirt clinging to his cold chest and the towel around his waist had certainly been far more that just entertaining. Especially knowing that thin bit of terrycloth was held on by nothing more than a twist and tuck of the fabric.

August handed him a coffee, tossing a package of sugar and powdered milk alongside and sat down hard. A question burned behind his lips, Doren could see it as clear as if it was written in magic marker on August's skin. "What's the matter, Aug? Something bothering you?"

Pink lips were pursed as August drew his cheek between his teeth. "What are you doing, Doren? What's your game?"

Doren looked back, innocence and shocked disbelief all over his face. "What do you mean?"

August nodded at the door between their rooms. "You have your own room. Why are you here in mine?"

Steam drifted up to mask Doren's smile as he blew on the coffee. "So you could make coffee, of course. I was freezing to death."

"You don't have coffee in your room?"

"But then I would have had to make it myself."

"You could have called room service."

Doren raised his eyebrows and waved at the room. "What? And miss all this stimulating conversation?" He didn't give August a chance to reply. He stood and walked over to the small television, turning it on and flipping until he came to the music stations, scrolling further until he found some classic rock. He selected it, and the room filled with the lusty sounds of Prince. "Ah," Doren said. "That's better! Nothing like a good shot of Prince to start the day, hmm?"

There was no smile on August's face when Doren looked up from the screen. He sighed heavily and set the cup down with a clunk. "Do you want me to leave? Because if you do, just fucking say so."

August clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "No, of course not. I'm just trying to understand what's going on. Are you playing with me?"

Doren shrugged and lifted his hands as if to prove he had no idea what August was talking about.

"Fine," August deadpanned. "But let's make something perfectly clear. I have no intention of doing anything with you. I know you like men just as much as you like women. I know you're a great big star and you get whatever the hell you want, when you want it. I get that. But you're my boss and I work for you, so it's not going to happen. Regardless of the convenience of proximity. So if that's what you're over here looking for …"

Doren stared, incredulous. What … the hell? What
was
August's problem? Was he determined to dislike working together? Or did August just have a hate on for him in general? Who did he think he was to question what Doren was doing or thinking or might be hoping to accomplish? Just because he'd shown a little common nicety that didn't mean he was trying to jump a piece of ass. And even if it did …

Without another word Doren turned and headed for the door between their rooms. August's side was locked but he hadn't bothered with his. So he flipped the lock, opened the door, and speaking as coldly as possible over his shoulder, went through it. "Clean yourself up. Wear something presentable, but casual. We need to meet with Anton this afternoon at one. Bring your planner and bring something to write with. But lose the fucking attitude."

He pulled the door hard and then kicked at the little trash bin beside the desk. It flew across the room, slamming hollowly against the wall. From behind him, he heard the cold click of August re-locking the door. Frustrated, Doren pushed his hair off his forehead and kneaded his temples. He was getting a headache. And he still needed sleep.