Fifteen Shades of Gay (For Pay) (14 page)

Cormac’s breath caught. Kissing Andrew long and hard, he stabbed with his tongue as if thrusting with something else. Andrew drew out the kisses as long as he could bear, enjoying them for their own sake. But finally the ache in his cock won out. Unbuttoning his jeans, Andrew pulled himself free. Then his knees met the floor as his mouth enveloped Cormac once again.

“I….” Cormac gasped.

Andrew sucked the full length of that monster again, in and out, taking every millimeter.

“I can’t….”

Lips fastening in the middle of the shaft, Andrew jerked his head in time to the furious pumping of his right hand.

“Hold back….” Cormac moaned, barely comprehensible. Then he flooded Andrew’s mouth with salty bitterness, over his tongue and down the back of his throat. Shocked at the strange transgressive pleasure it gave him—
I’m a cocksucker now
—Andrew shot hard. It seemed like eons before he came back to himself enough to again be capable of rational thought.

Did we really just do it in a hospital john?

“Hey. Sorry. Got your shoes a little. Well, a lot,” Andrew said.

Cormac helped Andrew to his feet. “That was…” He broke off. “Jeez. I’ve never felt anything like that in my life.”

Andrew tried not to laugh at the other man’s expression. Paresh had bragged that Andrew would see God before Paresh was done with him. Andrew didn’t know if Cormac had visualized the Supreme Being, exactly, but he looked like he’d set eyes on Santa Claus, at the very least.

“Was it okay for you?” Cormac sounded abashed, as if he should have asked that first.

“I told you. Look at your shoes.” Andrew kissed Cormac lightly on the mouth. “Now, let’s clean each other up and get the hell out of Dodge before a nurse breaks down the door.”

* * *

Not surprisingly, Cormac had work to do, even from his hotel room. So after tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches in the hospital cafeteria, Cormac reluctantly told Andrew goodbye.

“Call me later. Let me know how Marie’s test results look.”

“You won’t be out on the town with one of Wasserman’s other escorts?” Andrew teased.

“I came into town to see you. And to meet your sister. Not to go dancing.”

“I’m glad you came. But I guess I’d better go up and check on Marie. Make sure Dad isn’t hounding her about vitamins and meditation.” Automatically, Andrew moved in close for a kiss, the standard end-of-date ceremony observed by almost all males, even bums and jerks. Cormac backed away so fast, he almost knocked over a metal trash bin.

“Never in public.” Despite the alarm in his eyes, Cormac forced a smile.

Andrew sighed. His nerves were too frayed to formulate a measured reply. “Oh. Right. Sorry to embarrass you. Goodbye, Senator Donovan.” He headed for the elevators without a backward glance.

* * *

When Andrew returned to Marie’s room, Dr. Czarnecki was there. A short, middle-aged blonde, she had a round face and a native Texan’s soft drawl. “Hi, Andrew.” She smiled as he entered. “The gang’s all here.”

Andrew nodded, surprised to see Jake and Hugh, back from their tour of the Museum of Natural History at least two hours early. Jake looked like he was doing a slow burn. Hugh’s expression was falsely bright and attentive.

“I called them,” Marie said, answering Andrew’s unspoken question. “I would have called you, but your friend flew in all the way from California. I didn’t want to cut your visit short.”

“What’s going on?” Andrew kept his voice calm.

“There are spots on my liver. I’m stage four now.”

Andrew looked at Dr. Czarnecki. “This is from the MRI?”

She nodded. “The radiologist said Marie’s brain was clear, but he called me about the liver. I checked with a colleague who’s a hepatologist, because the spots are subtle. He agreed this is most likely metastatic disease.”

“Is a biopsy indicated?” Hugh asked.

“A biopsy is possible,” Dr. Czarnecki said. “However, the likelihood of it being negative is quite low. Such a procedure would be painful, almost certainly unnecessary, and risky as well. Whenever a biopsy is performed, there’s always a possibility of seeding the tumor elsewhere.”

“So because the likelihood of getting a good result is low, you just won’t bother, is that it?” Jake demanded.

“Mr. Reynolds, Marie is already weak.” The softness of Dr. Czarnecki’s tone did not detract from its authority. “I won’t put her under general anesthesia and subject her to so many risks, including death, to prove metastatic disease when every other indication already confirms it.”

“Well, I think you have a very cavalier attitude toward tried-and-true methodology—”

“Jake.” Hugh put a hand on the other man’s arm.

The three of them kept jabbering, Jake and Dr. Czarnecki and Hugh, but for Andrew the words ceased to register. Standing at the foot of the hydraulic bed, he held Marie’s gaze, seeing her terror and doing his best to take it into himself. That was the worst thing about fear, how it seemed to keep endlessly expanding like a malignant universe, spewing hostile planets and black holes into the once-peaceful void. He couldn’t absorb her pain or nausea—God knew he’d tried—but he felt sure he could share her fear, keep it from crushing her altogether.

“Come here,” she mouthed at Andrew as the discussion around them became increasingly volatile, at least on Jake’s end.

Slipping his arms around Marie, Andrew hugged her tight. “Another medicine. That’s what comes next. I’ll bet anything Dr. C puts you on a stronger medicine.”

“Forget medicine. What happened with you and Senator Hottie?”

“I blew him in one of the bathrooms,” Andrew muttered in her ear.

Marie burst out laughing. Even after Andrew pulled back, Jake stopped grandstanding about matters he barely understood, and Hugh and Dr. Czarnecki fell silent, Marie continued her high-pitched giggling. Hands over her mouth, she laughed and laughed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t stop. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over red cheeks. Then she was sobbing, latching onto Andrew and hiding her face against his chest.

“Marie. Baby, this doesn’t help.” Jake sounded embarrassed. “Crying never solves—”

“Dr. C,” Andrew called. “Isn’t there something she could take to help her relax?” He meant Xanax, of course, and Dr. Czarnecki understood perfectly.

“Yes, just give me a minute to order it,” Dr. Czarnecki said. “Marie, there’s nothing to do tonight but sleep. Tomorrow, when you’re rested, we’ll sit down and work out a new treatment plan. Gentlemen.” She nodded at Jake and Hugh as if the three of them had enjoyed a rapturous meeting of minds. “Andrew, will I see you in the morning?”

“Of course.”

After Dr. Czarnecki closed the door behind her, Jake ordered Andrew aside, taking Marie into his arms and rocking her until she quieted at last.

“You know, when I coached softball, I wasn’t supposed to play favorites,” Jake said. “And Lord knows I tried. But year after year, you were my best player. I had nothing to do with your ribbons and trophies. You earned them all on your own merit.”

“I know, Daddy.”

“What did I used to say? They up their game, you up yours,” Jake said. “They come on confident, you turn bold. They think they’re winners, you show them who’s the boss. That’s what you have to do with this cancer. Don’t let it win.”

Ignoring Hugh’s apologetic look, Andrew placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Dad. The nurse will bring Marie’s pill any minute now. Let’s go out to the atrium. I need to tell you something.”

“I’m sure it can wait.”

“No. Daddy, please. Go with Andrew. Besides,” Marie smiled weakly, “I’d like a minute alone with Hugh. He’s family, too, and I’ve hardly given him the time of day.”

That did the trick. Jake, always determined to see Hugh included in everything, had no choice but to relent. “Well, sure, Slugger. Be back soon.”

* * *

The atrium was intended for family conferences, private meditation, or mobile phone use. The view was nothing special—a courtyard and another sprawling hospital wing—but it was a better place to talk than right outside Marie’s room, dodging busy nurses and resident doctors in the process.

“Dad. About what happened last night.” Andrew forced out the words, winging it like an actor with no director and a brand new script. “I was disrespectful to you and I’m sorry. I never should have said those things.”

“Well. Good. Clear the air.” Jake sniffed, lifting his chin as he always did when pleased. “Water under the bridge and best forgotten.”

“But when it comes to Marie,” Andrew plowed on. “The food she eats. The medicine she takes. Whether or not she opts for surgery. You have to back off. I know,” this part was especially galling for Andrew to say, “you’re just trying to educate her and help her. But the fact is, you’re tearing her down. Whenever you say all survivors have a positive attitude, you’re telling her she’s sick because she doesn’t think happy thoughts. Cancer is tough enough without a guilt trip from the people you love.”

Jake winced. Andrew saw it again, the shadow of an old man superimposed over his irascible, unstoppable father.

Maybe it's the one thing he’s always been sure of? His children will outlive him. So how does he feel, in the last third of his life, realizing that might not be true?

“But, son, I’ve researched these things. I know I’m right,” Jake said stubbornly.

Andrew was ready for that. “Then it would make you an even bigger, stronger man to keep quiet. To not be right and just let Marie be happy.”

Jake stared at Andrew. Then his gaze dropped, arms crossing as he shuffled his feet.

“Dad?”

“I don’t know. I’ll… have to think about it.”

Andrew threw his arms around his father. “Thanks, Dad.”

* * *

Jake and Hugh returned to their hotel room around ten o’clock. Their flight back to Kansas was early, but both vowed to return to New York as soon as possible. Hugh, an avowed social media addict, promised to reach out daily via Facebook and Twitter.

“All the best memes and YouTube videos,” Hugh said.

“And you?” Loopy from Xanax, Marie gave Jake a wide smile. “Will you email all sorts of advice to me?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ve checked into Dr. Czarnecki’s credentials and she’s excellent.”

Marie made a startled noise. “God, Dad. From you that’s, like, the highest praise ever. Jeez, I’m sure to get well. I can’t lose if she has your seal of approval.”

To Andrew’s relief, Jake had the good grace to beam and say nothing more.

After Jake and Hugh departed, Andrew was ready to bunk down as he had the night before, but Marie wouldn’t hear of it. “Cormac’s still in town, isn’t he?”

“Well, yeah. Working from his hotel room.”

“Give him a call.”

Andrew blew out his breath. “Look. Marie. Your news today was… significant. We need to wrap our arms around it. I’m not going to run out on you when—”

“Andrew,” Marie slurred. “I’m stoned and happy. Go away. Come back tomorrow with a dirty story. If I were a boy, I would totally do other boys.”

Andrew chuckled. “I always used to say, if I were a girl, I’d spent all my time doing other girls. Now… I don’t get it. Why we bother limiting ourselves at all.”

“Me, neither.” Marie made a dismissive gesture. “When I put ‘kiss a girl’ on my bucket list, I lied. I meant, ‘go down on Charlize Theron.’”

When they stopped laughing, Andrew stood, kissing Marie on the forehead. “You’re sure about this?”

“Sure I’m sure. I’m the big sister. You have to obey me.”

So Andrew did. In the atrium, he took out his mobile and called Cormac. The other man answered on the second ring.

“Hey. Sorry about this afternoon. I just have to—”

“Marie’s been diagnosed as stage four,” Andrew interrupted. “I’m scared to death. Can I come over?”

* * *

For once, Cormac’s hotel was nothing special, just a revenant of an old chain in desperate need of renovation. Taking in the drab wallpaper, faded carpet, and vending machine, Andrew wondered if those first two luxurious rooms had been flukes. Then he understood.

“You paid for this yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes. And on short notice,” Cormac said, stepping back from the door to let Andrew in. Barefoot and wearing a plain T-shirt and navy sweatpants, he was dressed more casually than Andrew had ever seen him. “This diversion to New York was personal. The other two times, I was here officially as a representative of California.”

“Okay. Still, I’ll bet there’s room in the budget. Ever tempted to dip a hand in the cookie jar?”

Cormac frowned. “Given my state’s finances, I can’t imagine anything California needs less. But about Marie. I’m sorry it was bad news. I’d like to drop in and see her again tomorrow, just a quick goodbye on my way to the airport. Think she’d like that? Or would it seem intrusive?”

“She’d love it. By the way, she knows about us, but not about me working for Wasserman. That part has to stay secret. Otherwise?” Andrew shrugged. “Say whatever you want.”

Cormac seemed startled, though he didn’t reply. Instead he pointed to the mini-fridge with its plastic seal still intact. “How ‘bout I crack this bad boy open? I think you could use a drink.”

The room had no balcony and no real sitting area, just a table wedged in the corner with two uncomfortable chairs. Accepting a bottled Heineken, Andrew took a swig and looked at the bed. The covers were turned down on one side, Cormac’s laptop open on the bedside table. “So that’s your workspace?”

“It faces the TV.” Opening the tall cabinet, Cormac revealed a television muted and tuned to ESPN. “Seen any of today’s highlights?”

“No. Anything good?”

“Clint Strucker fumbled in overtime and the Bungals lost again. One of those games that’s like a car crash, you keep right on gawking no matter how much you hate yourself.” Cormac grinned. “
Sports Central
should repeat in a few minutes. Want to watch?”

“God, yes.” Kicking off his shoes, Andrew stretched out on the bed’s still-made side. Heineken in hand, Cormac returned to his place, unmuting the TV so they could catch up on day one of the Ryder Cup tournament. Andrew, who cared nothing for golf, suspected Cormac felt the same. Still, it was soothing to sit quietly sipping beer and listening to the sports anchor’s overwrought, breathless recap of small white balls plopping into tin cups.