Let the Music Play - 19. Then there were Two

Three hours into the journey, as the buses neared Kingman, Brandon stared out the window, feeling on top of the world. Helen and Chase had fallen asleep, Chase no doubt tired from their activities the night before, leaving Brandon to his thoughts, until a soft tap on his shoulder interrupted his reverie. As soon as he had Brandon’s attention, Jon signaled with a nod for him to follow. Careful to avoid waking Chase or Helen, Brandon followed Jon back to the computer, where Eric stood waiting. Without a word, and concealing a smirk, Eric swiveled the monitor so that Brandon could see it, its contents evoking a muffled, “Oh, fuck...” from his lead singer. Jon made his best attempt to sound serious, “Looks like that paparazzi Eric hosed got off a few shots. Helen’s going to go ape when she finds out. I wouldn’t want to be you, bro.”

Brandon stared at the collage of his own images on the monitor. The largest shots were of him, stretched out on a lounge chair, in wet Speedos. Another highlighted shot, clearly taken from above at an angle, a particularly revealing angle, was of Brandon standing, talking to Eric. Scrolling down the page, he saw a text blurb, ‘Brandon Wolfe, lead singer of Instinct, does a poolside strip-tease before taking some sun.’ Below the text, he found a series of photos detailing him getting out of his wet clothes. Further down, he found more images of himself, along with a few of his band mates, and two of The Shadows. His stomach playing host to a swarm of angry butterflies, he asked in a hushed voice, “This is on the Internet?”

Nodding solemnly, Eric replied, “Yeah, dude. Those pics of you in that skimpy swimsuit are going to be all over the ‘net. Damn, real pinup stuff too; I wouldn’t want to be you when Helen finds out. You shouldn’t have dressed like that, man. Helen will have a fit when she sees these.”

Staring at the images, noting that some were large and of high quality, Brandon stammered, “I didn’t plan on it, I just put ‘em on to get Chase to change into a swimsuit, and then Jon pushed me into the pool and...”

“Don’t matter, bro,” Eric replied, struggling to keep his voice serious, “Helen is going to have your head.”

“Yours, more likely,” Helen said, startling all three guys from behind. “You’re just trying to wind up Brandon. Out of the way, I need to see this.” Shooing her charges aside as Jon and Eric began to laugh; she took a seat, a confused Brandon by her side. Scrolling around the page, she finally announced, “Yes, Brandon, I’m mortified. Do you realize what has happened here?” Seeing the look of shock on his face, she smiled. “No? Well I’ll tell you what has happened. You’ve managed to get us a two-page spread in at least one tabloid, and likely quite a few other industry rags as well. There’s no real downside here; all it shows is that you’re a hot guy who’s comfortable and confident in his own skin, and likes to show off a little. This is called publicity, Brandon, and it’s something we usually have to work or pay to get... And speaking of which, this gives me an idea. I think Jon and Eric here just might need to follow your lead from time to time and wear similar swimwear, especially if paparazzi are around.”

Jon’s squirming at the mention of that idea was quite noticeable, though Eric was unfazed. Far from done, Helen paused in her spiel as one photo caught her eye. Pointing at it, she said, “But there could have been a big downside. See this one? It’s of you putting the necklace on Chase. Fortunately, you can’t see that because the table’s umbrella is in the way. I remember how you two looked; it was pretty damn clear you aren’t just friends. The lesson here is that you always need to assume there’s a photographer around. Always.”

Nodding in understanding, Brandon said, “We’ll have to be more careful I guess.”

Giving him a sympathetic smile, Helen said, “Well, hon, I know how hard it is to watch yourself every second. Try, but this isn’t the first close call we’ve had. So, I’ve been thinking of a way to deflect any rumors if something leaks out. If you and Chase are found out, we’ll have both your sexuality and your relationship to deal with. However, if just one member of Instinct comes out, it wouldn’t be as serious.”

“So, would it be me, or Chase?”

“Neither. It would be better if it wasn’t one of you. We’ll use a different member of Instinct, just to throw the press off the trail.” Turning to smile in a sweet yet evil way at Eric, she said, “Eric, hon, I think you’ve been in the closet far too long. I’ve already offered a Vegas reporter the scoop, and she’s going to out you right after the concert.”

Eric’s tan faded to a ghostly white as he stammered, “But... but... You can’t do that, I’d never get a girl again!”

Fixing her victim in her gaze, Helen smirked, “It’s too late, Eric. Come now, celibacy isn’t so bad once you get used to it.” Waiting for a few moments to let Eric stew she added, “Consider this partial payback for your stunt at Chase’s party. You scared the hell out of me. I haven’t really outed you, yet. Just bear in mind how useful it would be to do so if rumors start to fly about Brandon and Chase. Capisce?”

Blushing at having been being played so easily, Eric nodded before skulking back to his video game, wondering if Helen really would ‘out’ him.

Helen stood up from the keyboard and returned to her seat. The three members of Instinct shared a stunned look. Jon was the first to break the silence as he whispered, “I know she was messing with us on some of that, but which parts? She’s just too damn good at head games...”

Seeing the opportunity to get even, Brandon shrugged. “I think she was serious about the swimsuit stuff. Don’t worry dude, you’ll look good in a Speedo with your picture all over the internet.” Turning to a snickering Eric, he said, “If you do any more crazy stuff, I’ll have to get you some rainbow flag stickers, bro.” As Eric paled again, Brandon returned to his seat, leaving Jon and Eric to fret over what he’d said. Barely stifling a laugh, he opened a notepad and began jotting down some lyrics, getting a head start on the work for their next album.

* * *

The steady hum of the Cummins diesel engine, along with the buzz of the tires, kept the silence at bay as The Scar approached a sign proclaiming ‘Welcome to Brisbane’. He took note of a small addition beneath the sign. Tapping Dimitri on the shoulder, he pointed and waited for his associate to read the passing sign. Dimitri snapped his head around, a grin growing on has face, “So this is a nuclear-free zone? I do hope they don’t mind us hauling a little plutonium through... But they shouldn’t mind; we’ll be taking it out of the city.”

Laughing at the irony – if there was one thing The Scar loved, it was irony – The Scar replied, “We must be very careful, Dimitri, when it comes time to ship the bombs out. I’m sure we would not wish to run afoul of a city policy!”

The two men shared a good laugh, which served to brighten their moods, as well as taking their minds off of the slightly dangerous task at hand. They’d planned well, as always, but the fickle wiles of fate could always intervene, causing risk, and perhaps discovery. Both men knew that, were they discovered and arrested, the City of Brisbane’s municipal policy would be far from the worst of their concerns. The Scar decided to play things as he has before; just roll the truck in, present the bill of lading, and claim the cargo container. It had, after all, worked well enough once before. With their tension partially relieved by the levity, the two men pressed on into the city, heading for the port.

Driving the truck up to the cargo receiving area, The Scar presented the documentation, only to be told to wait. Fifteen long and stressful minutes later, with the big diesel still idling, a dock worker motioned for The Scar to wheel the flatbed under the mobile gantry, to receive the cargo container hanging from the ungainly device. The truck let out more than a few creaks and groans as the crane settled the container into place; it was near the maximum weight the truck could carry and brought forth a squeal of strain from the truck’s suspension. With feigned patience, Dimitri and The Scar waited as the single shipping container was secured to the deck of the flatbed truck. The container, having already cleared customs without so much as a cursory glance, was now in their possession. One of the yard workers, noticing the weight, asked with a short laugh, “What’s in there, rocks?”

With a smile for effect, slipping into his truck-driver’s persona, The Scar replied in his best Eastern-European accent, “In fact, yes.” He showed the dock worker a copy of the manifest as he added, “It is granite slabs, so it is rocks. Funny the way the world works, no?” With a chuckle, the dock worker waved the truck on its way.

Accelerating slowly as the truck labored under the weight, The Scar drove with caution, remarking to Dimitri as they cleared the city, “This is our last large shipment, other than the completed bombs themselves. The timing will be critical, but all has been arranged. Once I have the money, the takeover of Paraguay will be child’s play. After that, we can fund the separatist movement in Bolivia. The residents of the Santa Cruz region there are already quite displeased with their central government, and that region holds natural gas critical to Brazil and Argentina. All appears to be working according to my plan. Timing, as I say, will be the key issue. I should have at least some Kryton switches within forty-eight hours, enough for the test at least. We may need to wait a short while for the remainder, but they should be available before we need them.”

Dimitri nodded, a small, cold smile growing on his lips, “We are already slightly ahead of schedule, and far ahead on the fabrication of the bomb cases and internal jigs. In a few weeks we should be ready, and the world will never be the same.”

* * *

Charging in off the stage, covered in sweat and surging with the thrill, the four members of Instinct arrived backstage in the Silver Bowl after their final encore, with the roar of the Vegas crowd still reverberating through the stadium – now called the Sam Boyd arena, though most people still used the old name. Helen came forward to congratulate her four shirtless charges – she’d had them wear just jeans – before leading them back to the private rooms. The three members of The Shadows shouted their approval as Instinct entered the room, the two groups exchanging a little friendly banter before Helen subjected her charges to the usual press onslaught. Once the interviews were over – and Eric was relieved that Helen hadn’t ‘outed’ him – Helen began ushering everyone down to the limos as that night’s after-concert parties were going to be in the hotel, not backstage.

Eric and Jon had been less than happy with the development when they were told earlier. They’d been counting on bedding some groupies that evening. They were relieved to find crowds gathered at the hotel, and, as was their usual practice, left word with the security people to let a few of the best-looking girls up to their suites. The Shadows, staying in the same hotel on this occasion, followed in their own limo, arriving minutes after Instinct.

Still wearing their stage makeup, the three Shadows entered the suites as Jon set out a round of drinks. Steve took a glance at the various types of alcohol and asked, “I see you decided to skip the tequila tonight?”

Eric bristled. “Yeah, they never let me have any fun...” as he glanced out the window, hoping that the girls would arrive soon. Steve took another look around, as he and his band settled into some chairs, and noticed that tequila wasn’t the only thing absent: Brandon and Chase were nowhere to be seen.

In Chase’s suite next door, Brandon set the phone down. Turning to his boyfriend, he said, “He’s on his way. We’d better get Jon and Eric in here.”

Responding to their brother’s frantic summons, Jon and Eric entered the suite to come face-to-face with an obviously stressed-out Brandon. Looking at their lead singer as he held his head in his hands, shoulders slumped, sitting in a chair, Jon asked him what was wrong. Brandon stirred a little, shaking his head in disgust as he said, “Guys, I really fucked up. I thought my trouble in Phoenix was over, but somebody I used to know just gave me an ultimatum. It’s kinda the same thing that groupie tried to blackmail me into doing back in Los Angeles; sex.”

“Somebody is blackmailing you to have sex with them?” Eric asked, concerned.

With a sad shake of his head, refusing to meet his band mate’s eyes, Brandon replied, “No, they know I’m gay and that’s what their blackmailing me with. They’re on their way here, and if I don’t deliver, they have some old photos to out me with. Uh, it’s you guys Shirley wants to have sex with.”

Eric and Jon, sharing a bemused look with each other, along with a shrug, nodded as Eric said, “Dude, we’ll do it, don’t stress. It’s kinda like what we wanted you to do. Is Shirley attractive?”

Brandon nodded glumly, and the outer door to the suite creaked open, revealing an enormous biker decked out in leathers and chains. He slowly walked into the suite, stopping a few yards in front of Brandon he rocked forward menacingly, fixing the cowering lead singer of Instinct in his fiercest gaze. “Well?” he asked, “Is Shirley getting laid tonight?”

Nodding slowly, his eyes still locked on the floor, Brandon sighed, “Yeah, they agreed. I don’t like this...”

“Tough shit, worm,” the biker snarled. Turning to his right to face Jon and Eric, he took a step forward, stopping in front of the two nervous musicians as he dropped his hand and began to rub his crotch, giving the two shocked guys a lascivious wink. Staring in shock and horror at the biker, Jon and Eric heard Brandon plead softly, “Please don’t hurt ‘em too bad, Shirley. At least use some lube...”

Eric was the first to try bolting for the door, followed a millisecond later by Jon. The big biker moved faster than they could imagine, his giant hands latching onto their arms like a vice, hauling them back towards him as easily as a normal man would heft a sack of flour. The first clue that something was not as it seemed was the blinding flash of Chase’s new camera, as he rushed forward to snap his brothers’ picture. Brandon’s erupting laughter was the second clue, and the biker let them go.

Brandon lifted the open cell phone he’d been hiding by his side in the chair to say between gales of laughter, “Okay, it worked, get in here!”

Linda strolled in, and promptly took a bow. Brandon laughed again, “Guys, you met Linda last time. The big guy here is Jim, her fiancé and my friend from Phoenix.”

“You mean it was all a gag?” Eric asked, looking back and forth between Brandon and Linda.

“Yup,” Brandon replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “It was just too good an opportunity to pass up, and besides, now you know kinda how I felt when you tried to get me to sleep with that blackmailing bitch Charity back in Los Angeles.”

Barbra and Helen walked in from the bedroom where Brandon and Chase had told them to hide, entering the room as Helen said with a chuckle, “Kind of the same thing, but I think Jim here scared Jon and Eric half to death. I hope that picture comes out Chase, because I plan on having it framed.” Chase handed her the camera and Helen looked at the LCD display, laughing, “That’s priceless. I’ll definitely have it framed.”

Eric grumbled, “I’m supposed to be the practical joker around here...”

Helen put a halt to the banter by declaring, “One quick bit of business and then we can all relax. Barbra, you go get cozy with Brandon on the balcony and wave to the fans in the street. Linda, are you still willing to...?”

Linda nodded happily. “You betcha.” She smiled at Chase. “If anyone recognizes me, I’ll just tell ‘em Jim and I have ‘celebrity exceptions’ in our relationship, and I got to bag Chase Carlisle. Make it look good, hottie, and this should give you and Brandon some good cover.”

With Linda on his arm, Chase followed Barbra and Brandon out to the balcony. Arm in arm, Barbra and Brandon waved to the crowd, the roar filtering up from below prompting Chase and Linda to do the same. Whispering in Chase’s ear, Linda said, “I won’t promise not to enjoy this,” as she threw her arms around him and leaned in to kiss Chase on the lips. Chase blushed a little as they pulled apart to wave to the crowd once more, and then they followed Barbra and Brandon back inside.

Helen glanced at Jon and Eric. “Okay, now you two go wave and we’re done. Oh, and Jim, stick real close to Eric. I’m trying to start rumors about him.”

Eric spun around, gasping, “Helen, no ... I don’t want to be outed!”

Jim chuckled and asked, “Outed? Are you gay too?”

Eric grumbled, “No, I’m straight, but Helen keeps threatening to tell the press that I’m gay.”

A confused Jim looked at Helen as Jon and Eric went out to acknowledge the crowd. Helen laughed. “That boy scared me half to death by leaping off a three story building yesterday. I swear, he’ll die young... Anyway, I’m just winding him up and who knows, maybe the threat will help me keep him in line a little.”

When everyone was back in the room, Jim said, “You guys put on one hell of a concert tonight. I’ll never forget it. I hope I can get autographs before I leave? I’ve been a fan of yours since you started.”

After a round of signings Helen suggested, “Let’s go back to the other suite. The Shadows will be thinking we’ve shunned them, and I’ll bet there’s some girls for Jon and Eric there by now.”

Entering the other suite via the connecting door, they found The Shadows surrounded by a gaggle of mainly blonde, buxom girls. Jon and Eric moved quickly in that direction as Chase and Brandon stood for a moment with Linda and Jim. Only Helen’s fierce glare from nearby kept the groupies away, so Brandon ushered Jim, Linda and Chase back into Chase’s suite and was able to spend some time catching up with his old friends.

Jon and Eric soon had their own groups of admirers, Jon picking one for the evening, and Eric ending up with two. Sitting around drinking, with their dates alongside, the two brothers and the three Shadows unwound, all except for Steve. Helen had taken him aside and filled him in on the earlier joke, and let him know that Brandon’s company were old friends. Glancing around to see that Zeke was entangled with his chosen girl for the evening, Steve looked at Wilde, relieved to see that he, too, had a blond girl on his lap. He never knew that Eric had seen the look.

* * *

Nosing the heavily-laden eighteen wheeler into their compound, Dimitri and The Scar brought the truck to a halt after three hundred weary miles. Jumping out, indulging in a welcome scratch, Dimitri signaled his ex-Spetznaz guards to keep everyone away from the truck. This could not wait.

Barreling in with the forklift while The Scar opened the container’s rear door, Dimitri parked it nearby. Walking over to the truck, he attached a chain to the pallet on which the rearmost pile of vertically stacked inch thick slabs of granite rested. Securing the other end of the chain to a building, he motioned for The Scar to pull the truck forward, thus dragging the first pile of slabs out the back end, dumping them roughly on the ground. He repeated the process with the middle stack. For the third stack, they took greater care, inching the truck forward until the stack stood near the container’s open rear. Firing up the forklift, Dimitri began shoving the topmost slabs further into the container, knocking them off the stack three at a time. After a few minutes, he’d worked his way far enough down the pile to reach his goal. Shoving aside a slab about halfway down the original pile, he could see six small chambers carved into the remaining slabs, each containing a small, dull lead cask not much larger than a shoebox.

Leaping into the container, The Scar beheld his treasure for the first time, kneeling down, heaving the first of the casks from its hiding place, opening it to reveal a set of ingots, both having a dull metallic sheen, looking much like nickel, which indeed they were coated with. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers against their warm surface, smiling, as he stared into the promise of his dreams. He caressed the warm surfaces again, knowing that the alpha radiation emitted by the plutonium was harmless, and that the nickel plating shielded him from the toxicity of the reactive plutonium metal itself.

In careful haste, Dimitri and The Scar unloaded the remaining casks, delivering them to a waiting Vladimir. The engineer studied them carefully, running a few tests with a Geiger counter before pronouncing the plutonium to be as expected, and suitable for their work. He wasted no time, carrying the casks into his metallurgical shop one by one. His one curt demand of The Scar, to hurry up with the gold leaf procurement, was not sufficient to dampen The Scar’s mood on that great day. Turning to Dimitri, The Scar said in a wistful though happy voice, “Until today I have had my doubts. But today, today I know we can do it.”

Dimitri nodded agreement, even though he himself had been sure from the start of their project. He clambered up into the cab of the truck, starting the big diesel. He threw the truck into gear, rolling forward a few dozen yards before parking it beside one of their buildings, to await its final use.

* * *

The Shadows, after seeing off their groupie dates from the night, sat down together for breakfast. Steve made a quick phone call to Jon, confirming their plans for the day. Glancing at Wilde, he kept his concerns to himself, though Chase and Brandon’s behavior after the concert had rekindled his unease: Steve had been very disturbed when he realized that Linda and Jim knew about Brandon and Chase.

* * *

Eric treated his two dates to breakfast, and a sleepy Jon and his date joined them. After seeing the girls off, accompanied by the usual promises to get in touch the next time they were in town, Eric said, “Time to do some climbing,” with eagerness that he alone felt. Jon nodded, and phoned Chase’s suite to make sure he and Brandon were awake. He also wondered just how they were going to get away from Helen, whom he knew would never approve of rock climbing. Leaving a note would be the best, he decided.

In the hotel’s parking garage, the two bands piled into the mini-van Steve had rented, with the gear already safely stowed in back. The two groups chatted back and forth about the concert as Steve drove west out of Vegas, heading for a climbing in the Red Rock Canyon area, which was not too far out of the city. The Shadows had been climbing there before. Neither Steve, nor any of the others, noticed that as they’d pulled out of the parking garage onto the Las Vegas strip, that a small, white car had followed them, tailing them from a distance.

Steve parked the van on a dirt pull-in, a few hundred yards from the road. Scrambling out to unpack the climbing gear, he smiled as he told Jon, “You guys will love this. We do it all the time, and its something we do as a group outside of music. Even Wilde likes it.”

Glancing at Wilde, who’d worn a white t-shirt and black jeans along with some black lipstick, Jon asked, “What about your manager? I had to leave ours a note; she’d have put the kibosh on this if she’d known.”

Hefting a coil of rope, Steve replied, “He hates it, but after a while he got used to it. I don’t think we have the same relationship with our manager as you do with yours; she’s more like a mom to you guys, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she is I guess, especially since the breakup with our folks.”

Waiting while Wilde and Zeke picked up the rest of the gear, Steve asked Jon, “I’d read that you guys had a split with your folks. I always wondered why, but now it’s pretty obvious; they found out about Chase, right?”

Jon nodded, not knowing what else to say, as Brandon, Chase, and Eric climbed out of the van, not having overheard the conversation. The two groups set out up the trail, into a flat-bottomed canyon enclosed by red sandstone cliffs. After a few hundred yards, they reached the base of one low cliff, and Steve tossed his gear down. “This is the place.”

The hot desert air, stirred only by a light breeze, rustled through the mesquite bushes, creating the only sound save for the distant hum of cicadas. The vertical red walls stood in stark contrast to the vibrant green offered by a few scattered Palo Verde trees, and the floor of the canyon was covered in course sand that hadn’t tasted water in many long months. The smell of mesquite, mixed with a tinge of dust, suffused the quiet canyon, as the seven guys scanned the cliff.

Zeke, beginning to sweat in the hot sun, peeled off his shirt, strapped on a chalk bag, slung a rope over his shoulder, and began to free climb. As everyone watched Zeke, Steve said, “He’s taking the safety ropes to the top. We usually free climb, but that would be hazardous for you guys so we’ll have harnesses for you, and safety ropes anchored at the top. We’ll also teach you how to rappel.”

At the top of the cliff, Zeke looped the safety rope around the base of a tree, tossing the end back over the rim of the cliff. At the foot of the precipice, Wilde hooked the rope to a harness which he offered to the members of Instinct. Eric stepped forward, peeling off his shirt. “I’ll give it a try.” Wilde helped Eric into the harness, and then showed him how to put on and use the chalk bag. Eric stepped forward to the foot of the cliff, listening as Wilde explained the techniques of free climbing, with special emphasis on how to think ahead and plan a route.

Eric began to climb, his defined back muscles flexing in the sun as he inched up the cliff. Steve, holding the safety rope Zeke had tossed down, took up the slack, carefully watching Eric’s awkward progress. Wilde, climbing free, took a route parallel to Eric, calling out advice and encouragement. Reaching up to grasp a protruding piece of sandstone, Eric yelped as the stone broke free in his hand, costing his purchase and his balance, sending him falling backwards away from the cliff and the broken chunk of rock skittering to the floor of the canyon below.

Dangling from his safety harness half a dozen feet up the cliff, Eric looked around in confusion. He heard Wilde’s voice from the side, “Dude, you have to be extra careful. Sandstone breaks, so never trust it. Don’t use pieces like that which stick out a long ways, and make sure you can always keep your hold even if one hand or foot is dislodged.”

Muttering under his breath and fueled by a renewed determination, Eric swung back to the cliff face, selecting his holds with greater care as he renewed his ascent. Ten strenuous minutes later, covered with sweat, Eric hauled himself over the top of the cliff, with Wilde and Zeke cheering him on. Zeke helped Eric out of the harness, putting it on himself as he announced, “Watch this, dude. This is how you’ll be getting down.”

After checking to make sure he had anchored the rope securely, Zeke stood on the edge of the cliff, facing away from it, and took a single step backwards into space, arching out from the cliff face. Using his feet, combined with his left hand’s breaking action on the rappelling gear, Zeke bounced his way down the cliff, landing seconds later beside a stunned Jon.

Steve told his guests, “I’m going up next, and I’ll stay alongside whichever one of you climbs, and Zeke can belay you. Who’s next?” Brandon and Chase exchanged a look, and Chase saw Brandon’s unease. Grinning, he let his boyfriend off the hook by stepping forward, peeling off his shirt, and letting Steve help him into the gear. Steve made sure Chase’s gear was set up just as he’d planned. Minutes later, Brandon and Jon watched as Chase, with Steve a few feet to the side, struggled up the cliff face, Chase’s muscles rippling in the sun as the warm desert breeze ruffled his blond hair.

Eric, standing atop the cliff as he watched his brother begin his ascent, stood back a little and turned to face Wilde, who had taken shelter from the sun under the sparse cover provided by the lone tree. After waiting a few moments as he studied the Goth musician, Eric decided that there was no time like the present to get to the bottom of things. With a knowing smile on his face, Eric said, “Hey Wilde, I think I finally figured out what’s up with you guys. It’s you, and Steve is...” Eric said, his attention focused on Wilde. Eric didn’t notice a very shaken Steve climbing up alone over the cliff edge behind him, listening to Eric’s every word.

* * *

Barbra hardly noticed as the program she used to monitor the wire services for keywords beeped. Glancing away from her typing a moment later, she opened the program’s window, and seeing the name Carlisle had been the keyword the program had found, she clicked open the article. Seconds later, her blood ran cold as she realized what it was she was reading.

Her hands shaking, dreading what she knew she had to do, and knowing the grief it would cause, she walked into the other room of the suite. Helen sat at a desk attending to some paperwork, having shut off the phone in order to concentrate. Placing her hand on her lover’s shoulder, Barbra said softly, “Helen, honey, I don’t know how to tell you this, but the guys went rock climbing–”

Interrupting her, Helen patted Barbra’s hand and grumbled, “I already know, Barb. Jon left me a note, no doubt because he knew damn well I’d say no–”

Barbra said as gently as she could, “No, hon, it just came in over the wire on my laptop, there’s been a terrible accident... a fatal one.” Barbra hesitated to say the name, knowing what the loss of who, she thought, was in spite of everything likely Helen’s favorite of the three brothers, would do to her. Barbra hesitated for only a moment, realizing that she had no other choice, that not knowing was no kindness at all, but Helen reacted too fast for words, rushing to her feet and charging off in the direction of the laptop.

Catching up with Helen at the computer, hugging her from the side as Helen read the screen, Barbra felt more than heard Helen’s startled, horrified gasp and the beginnings of a sob. Helen’s next action surprised Barbra not at all: Helen straightened her back, fighting the gnawing grief burning in her heart. “Barb, I’ve got my phone off. Turn it on and then get a hold of whoever you can: I need to know if the rest of my boys are safe.”

Turning to do as she’d been asked, Barbra, barely holding back her own tears, said, “I’m sorry, hon, I’m so sorry,” despairing of the fact that words alone could never be enough, though they were all she had.