Streak - 1. Chapter 1

August 24, 2002

Paris, France

Wade

I smiled at Matt lovingly as we walked up the Champs Elysées toward the Arc de Triomphe. Ever since he’d come to Boston on August 11^th and we’d officially become a couple again, I’d been so happy I’d felt like I was floating on a cloud. We had always had a tight bond, the same bond that kept pulling us back together even when we tried to be single. A bond that was as strong as steel. Only this time, it was even better. In the past, we’d been college guys, negotiating a partnership that included other people; but now we were adults embarking on our lives together, and we were doing it monogamously.

It was a really nice day in Paris, which wasn’t a given. The first few days we’d been here, there had been a heat wave that had swept over the city. The heat was oppressive, but we had good air conditioners in the apartment, thanks to Stef and his unwillingness to deal with the shitty units Parisians normally installed. Everywhere else we went, it was hot, and not in a good way. We’d gone to the Louvre, assuming that the museum would be a good place to go when it was sweltering, but I’d been humorously annoyed that the French had only air conditioned those parts of the Louvre containing French art. The sections with Italian and Egyptian pieces were hotter than outside. But as bad as the heat was, it wasn’t even the worst part. For some reason, the French hadn’t embraced the use of deodorant, so we’d been in the Louvre, and I’d been almost overwhelmed by the rank smell of body odor. Fortunately, the temperatures cooled down, and the French, for the most part, must have bathed, so things were decidedly more pleasant now.

“It’s going to suck to go back,” Matt said. This was our last day in Paris, and I wasn’t all that happy about spending it this way. Matt had surprised me last weekend by taking me away on our honeymoon, as he called it. I’d freaked out, because I had a bunch of shit to do; not the least of which was making sure that our new house in Boston was ready for us to move into by the 28^th. I also acknowledged that my basic need to organize my life made spontaneous trips like this a bit grating on my psyche. I was learning, though, that once I gave in and went with it, I was able to get into the spirit of things, and enjoy myself.

“It is,” I agreed. I hadn’t been all that thrilled about his choice of locations. It was just a month ago when I’d been so obsessed with Alex Granger that I’d flown over to Paris and dumped Matt. “I’m really surprised you wanted to come here.”

“You mean because this is where you took out my heart, cut it into pieces, chewed it up, spit it out, and stomped on it?” he asked me with his irresistible grin.

“That’s why,” I said, frowning at him.

“Because it erases that whole event,” he said, as if that should make logical sense to me.

“What?”

“Our whole trip to Europe this summer was about us. We got derailed in England, and missed our time together here in Paris. So now, here we are, doing what we were supposed to do last month,” he said.

“Dude, sometimes the way you think just scares me,” I said, shaking my head at his twisted logic.

He stopped, pulled me into a hug, and gave me a brief kiss, here on one of Paris’ busiest boulevards. “Aren’t you having fun?”

I smiled. “I’m having an amazing time,” I said.

“So am I,” he said. “See, it worked out.”

“Did you forget everything you learned about research?” I challenged playfully. “There may not be a cause and effect relationship.”

“You may be right, but I’m going to go on the assumption that there is,” he said dismissively, something which frustrated my organized mind. “You know, since we got back together, you’ve gotten a lot more uptight, just like you used to be.”

“Are you trying to piss me off?” I asked him, because he had finally irritated me. He just laughed. “What?”

“The whole time we weren’t together this summer, you were a lot more emotional and moody, which really isn’t like you at all. I’m just saying you seem to be your old, rigid, organized, stoic self.”

“I’m so glad I’ve recovered,” I said acidly.

“You know when I knew you were totally fucked up by that whole thing?”

I didn’t want to answer him; I wanted to drop this whole topic about how OCD I was, but I gave in to my curiosity. “When?”

“When I busted into your hotel room in Boston, and you all but ran into the bedroom, ripped off your clothes, and begged me to fuck you,” he said, giving me shit.

“Yeah, that’s how it happened,” I said sarcastically, since it hadn’t been like that at all. Or at least not entirely.

“When I walked into the room, I noticed that you’d taken your clothes and just left them in a clump on the floor. You never do that. You always fold them up carefully.”

“Maybe I wasn’t fucked up,” I said seductively. If he knew how to get to me, I knew his weak spots too. “Maybe I was just so anxious to get into bed with you; I threw out all my normal restraints.” I watched that fire him up and almost snickered.

“That’s probably it,” he said gamely. We walked on for a bit, not saying anything, just enjoying Paris. “Are you OK with this?”

“With meeting with Alex?”

“No, with letting him live with us,” Matt said. We both had unresolved issues with him.

“I think it’s easy to blame Alex for all the shit that happened, but I don’t think that’s fair,” I said, with my fussy sense of justice. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “He hit on me, but we weren’t together, so he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, and because you were chasing after him like a dog in heat,” he said, giving me shit.

“Right,” I said icily. “We pulled him into the middle of our relationship.”

He thought about what I said and nodded. “That’s not a very safe place to be.”

I chuckled. “No, it’s not.”

“Alright, but realizing that he wasn’t fully at fault in all that bullshit doesn’t mean he has to live with us, does it?”

“Fully at fault? What did he do wrong?” He didn’t say anything. “The only thing he did wrong was to treat me like shit after I called him on having a Madonna-whore complex. And I’m thinking that wasn’t the nicest thing I could have done to him.”

“I guess you’re right,” he said, then got that twinkle in his eye that told me he was about to poke me again. “I really shouldn’t be pissed at him. He was one amazing piece of ass.”

I felt myself get jealous, and then got really annoyed when he saw that I did. I’d been Alex’s Madonna, the dude he’d treated like a delicate doll. Sex with him had been so boring it was less interesting than just jacking off. But Matt had been Alex’s whore, and they’d evidently had some raucous times. “Whatever,” I said, to shut down that topic. “I’m uncomfortable enough about this meeting without you trying to put me in a bad mood right before we talk to him.”

“Relax, Wade. It will be just fine,” he said calmly, getting that he’d pushed my buttons just a little too much. “So why is he moving in with us?”

“Because he doesn’t want to explain to his grandfather why he can’t,” I said. Alex’s grandfather was the Duke of Suffolk, and as the oldest son of the oldest son of the Duke, Alex had the courtesy title of Earl of Bridgemont. “It’s about appearances. He said that he can move in for a bit, then after he has reason to complain that you snore too loudly, or Tiffany is a bitch on wheels, he can find a new place without embarrassing any of us.”

“I got it,” he said. I’d had a conversation with JP about it, and he’d helped me see how embarrassing this could be for Alex, and by extension, to both the Duke and JP. There was a nice relationship developing between our two families, something worth fostering. There was no reason to toss it out by being bitchy. “Which room are you going to give him?”

Our house in Boston had four floors. The ground floor was the public area, with the kitchen, great room, dining room, living room, and study. The second floor was my floor, and I’d indulged myself by taking over almost the whole thing for a master suite. There was one guest room there. Tiffany and the kids had the entire third floor, while JJ had the top story. The house had an elevator, so getting up and down shouldn’t be a problem for them. Tiffany had no guest rooms on her floor, but JJ had two. “He’s going to take the room across from JJ’s.”

“JJ was alright with that?” Matt asked.

“It was actually his suggestion,” I said. Matt was surprised by that, and so was I. JJ was a figure skater, and a total diva.

“He hit it off really well with Alex when he came to Escorial,” Matt said. “I can see why JJ would like him.”

JJ was a snob, so it made sense that he’d think an earl was cool. “Well it worked out well, because there’s no way I’d have agreed to this if he were going to be living on our floor.”

“I guess it did,” he said, smiling at me.

Matt slowed his pace as we approached a relatively mundane looking café on the Champs Elysées. He’d picked this restaurant for our meeting with Alex, who had come over here just to chat with us. “Why did you pick this place?” I asked Matt,

“I had lunch here with JP,” he said. “That was the day you came back from England to dump me.”

“Dude, it seems like you’re trying to celebrate that, when all I feel about that time is guilt,” I said. I didn’t get that. He’d been devastated when I’d told him I was going to be with Alex and not him, and I’d been almost as devastated at hurting him.

“I didn’t say I wanted to come here because of that,” he said. “This is where JP met Ace for the first time.”

I smiled, getting it. JP was like a father to me, a man so much like me it was uncanny, only he was older and more mature, so he tended to keep his cool a bit better than I did, something which I occasionally found irritating. The fact that he’d met his former wife, Isidore, and his adopted son, Ace, here made this a pretty cool place. “That was in 1963?”

“It was,” Matt said.

The maître d’ gave us that disdainful look that Parisians sometimes have toward foreigners. “We need a table for three, please,” I said in French. My French was good, much better than Matt’s, so I tended to be our voice when we were interacting with the locals. I could have felt cocky about that if Will, a guy who was basically my and Matt’s brother, wasn’t as fluent as a native Frenchman.

“Of course,” he said, and led us to a table where we could see the people walking by.

A black Mercedes limo with darkened windows pulled up, and Alex stepped out. “There he is,” Matt said unnecessarily. It was impossible not to appreciate how attractive Alex was. He stood at an inch less than six feet, had really beautiful golden blond hair, light blue eyes, and very handsome yet pointy features that made him almost seem like he was from another world. If he wasn’t so masculine, he could accurately be called pretty.

He looked toward us and smiled, his face blossoming into an even more handsome iteration with that hyper-charged grin of his. He came over to us and we stood to greet him. “It is so good to see both of you!” he said.

“It’s good to see you too,” I said. “Have a seat.”

He did, and we managed to flag down our waiter to get him a drink. “I hear that you two are a couple again. Congratulations. I’m very happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Matt said, but a bit warily.

“It was pretty obvious to me that the two of you belonged together,” he said, smiling playfully. “I have encountered people in my life, couples, who seem destined to be together. You two are such a couple.” He had a way of sliding back and forth in his diction, talking like a 22-year-old dude one minute and a 70-year-old lord the next.

“I agree with you,” I said, and gave Matt a loving look.

“I feel especially privileged to have met you at a juncture when you were not completely committed, since that allowed me to experience both of you, and more fully appreciate your qualities.” I blushed, while Matt laughed.

“You are one of the most charming men I’ve ever met,” I said honestly.

“Thank you,” he said pleasantly, then got more serious and focused on me. “I enjoyed our time, but we did not end it on a very good note. I am sorry about that.”

I smiled. “It was not just you who should apologize,” I said. “I’m sorry too.” I’d confronted him about his complex, and he’d been vicious, which had gotten a similar response from me.

“Then I shall forgive you,” he said, with his happy, chipper voice. “And there’s an end to it.”

“Who says I’ve forgiven you?” I asked, getting into his playful spirit.

“Surely you must,” he said, acting arrogant, and cracking both Matt and me up.

“So it seems,” I said, giving him a gentle smile.

He got serious again. “I really do appreciate you re-extending your offer to let me stay with you. I didn’t want my grandfather to suspect that we had anything but a pleasant time, and I didn’t want our rift to be public.”

“What rift?” Matt asked with a smile.

“Precisely,” Alex said, chuckling.

“It really isn’t a problem,” I said. “You were evidently so charming when you talked to JJ that he was adamant that you have one of the rooms on his floor.”

“Well that was very thoughtful of him,” he said. “And that reminds me to ask you for his phone number.”

“Sure,” I said, and gave it to him.

“He has that Nebelhorn competition coming up. I was of a mind to go watch him skate, and then see if I could impose upon him to hitch a ride back to the United States.”

“I think he’ll be more than happy to do that,” Matt said.

“That is good news,” he said, and then he did the same thing, where he got serious after being playful. “There is one more thing I need to talk to you two about.”

“You have the floor,” I said.

“I am aware that you both have found me mildly attractive at times,” he said vapidly.

“We thought you were freaking hot,” Matt said, winking at him.

“The feeling is mutual,” he said, looking at both of us. “I am aware of the status of your relationship, that you are committed only to each other.”

“We are,” Matt said. It made sense that he’d be focused on this part of the conversation, since he was most likely to be jealous.

“I want you to know that I will respect those boundaries. I will give you my word of honor that I will not attempt to seduce either one of you.”

“Your simple statement would have been sufficient,” I said. I knew Alex better than Matt did, and I knew that he had a sense of honor that rivaled mine. If he gave his word that he would not do something, he would not do it. “But Matt tends to get very jealous, so I’m sure he appreciated your further assurances.”

“Right,” Matt said, giving me a dirty look, and making Alex and me laugh.

“I have a few errands to run while I’m here,” Alex said, looking at his watch. “I hope you won’t be offended if I leave?”

“Not at all,” I said.

“We’ll have plenty of time to hang out in Boston,” Matt said.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said.

“So am I,” I said, and found that I actually meant it.

We watched him get into the Mercedes and speed off. “That went pretty well,” Matt said.

“Better than I thought it would,” I agreed.

“You think he was serious?”

“About what?”

“About not hitting on us,” he said.

“He was serious,” I said firmly. “He gave his word of honor. He won’t go back on that, any more than I would.”

“Then he was serious,” Matt said. That compliment got him a smile.

“I was thinking that after we get everything ironed out with the house, maybe we could go to Goodwell for a few days,” I said. I loved to ride, so that was one reason, but I also wanted to see my grandmother, Nana.

“I’m free,” he said. He wasn’t going to school, and he wasn’t working, so his schedule was wide open. That would drive me crazy, but he seemed to be embracing it. We finished eating, paid our tab, and then started walking back to the apartment, detouring through the Tuileries Gardens as we did. “I want to talk to you about something.”

I got a little nervous, because he was. “So talk.”

“I was thinking about things, and I was wondering how you’d feel about playing hockey again,” he said. I looked at him, and that seemed to prompt him to explain further. “I don’t want to be a college jock, and I’m not going to turn into a competitive douchebag, but I only played for a little bit in Chicago, and it was a lot of fun.”

I’d busted his balls pretty hard when he told me about that, and that really wasn’t fair. “If you want to do it, that’s fine with me,” I said with a smile. “It will keep you in shape.”

He raised an eyebrow, then raised up his shirt to show off his washboard abs. “You think I’m out of shape?”

“Never mind,” I said, grinning at him.

“I was actually thinking it would be fun to do this together,” he said.

“You want me to play hockey with you?” He didn’t say anything; he just let me think about that. When we had big issues when we were at Stanford, and I’d threatened to quit the team, he’d all but begged me not to, claiming that it was something we did together. It was our time. That’s probably what he was doing now, and even if he wasn’t, it wasn’t a bad idea for me to be involved. I flagellated myself, thinking that I’d be doing that just to keep an eye on him, and that wasn’t fair. “If I can work it into my schedule, I could be good with that.”

“Awesome,” he said.

“That opening party for Spartacus is on the 30^th,” I reminded him. “You planning to go?”

“Will and Stef are going,” he said. I laughed at that. Will was such a player, and while Stef was beyond the years where he’d be comfortable at a gay bar, since he owned most of this one, maybe that wouldn’t matter. “I think I’ll stay in Boston. We have enough shit to get organized. Unless you want to go?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I feel like I tested JJ’s patience enough this summer. If he sees me jetting off to Chicago just when the place is supposed to be done, he may just lose his mind.”

“Speaking of JJ, you should call him and tell him that things are cool with Alex,” Matt prompted.

August 27, 2002

Malibu, CA

JJ

I was trying to pack up the stuff I needed, but that wasn’t easy. The simple reason for that was that I had too many clothes. I paused and thought about that, then smiled. I loved clothes, so I wasn’t sure that having too many was possible. I’d spent the entire day yesterday going through my closet, getting rid of all the shit that was either hideously unfashionable, or that didn’t fit me anymore. I’d made three piles: shit to give away, shit to keep here, and shit to pack. The shit to pack pile was pretty fucking big by the time I was finished.

Tiffany suggested that I just put all the clothes in boxes, but that had gotten her a pretty nasty look. There was no way I was going to just toss a $500 pair of slacks into a cardboard box. God only knew where the box had been, what they’d made the cardboard out of, or if there were bugs in them. Instead, I’d made them fabricate liners for each of the boxes, and then I’d filled them up as they got them done. Tiffany seemed to think that was a waste of time and effort, but what was the use of having a staff around if you didn’t use them to help you?

I slipped on another pair of pants to try them on, and frowned when they still fit. I’d spent the last two years going through the ravages of puberty, and that had changed my body in ways I wasn’t all that happy about. My voice had gotten deeper, but fortunately I’d managed to avoid that embarrassing squeaky phase where one’s voice fluctuates. I’d gotten hair under my armpits and in my groin, but I’d shaved it off. I had to wear pretty tight clothes for skating, and the last thing I wanted was for the hair under my arms to be visible through one of my outfits. Besides, I felt cleaner that way. And I’d gotten a sex drive, which was really annoying. Will had gone through this stage much sooner than I did. He was an early bloomer, and I was a late bloomer. He’d been like a dog in heat, chasing after guys like an idiot. I hadn’t understood what he was dealing with then, but I understood it now. It was like I had to beat off three times a day at least so I didn’t get hard just walking down the stairs. Will had been so excited to get into sex, but for me, it was just a pain in the ass. It distracted me, and it made me feel impure. The only real benefit to this whole puberty thing was that I was supposed to grow; only I hadn’t. I’d gotten the changes in my body, including the zits; I’d gotten the hyper sex drive; but I’d totally missed out on the growth spurt. I stood at 5’6” tall, and it looked like that was where I was going to stay. It really bothered me that all of my brothers were over six feet tall. Will was the one I was closest to in age, and he was at 6’2” now, a full eight inches taller than me. I’d pointed that out to him, and he’d made some crass joke about how eight inches was the perfect size. He could be so uncouth at times.

I kept on packing, and the more I got done, the bitchier I became. I really didn’t want to move to Boston, but I was less upset about it now than I had been. I’d been really pissed at Wade for dicking around on all the renovations we’d needed to make on the house. He’d let the first contractor do nothing, while he went all over Europe, chasing after Alex. When I’d called him on it, he’d finally gotten his ass in gear, with Matt’s help. Then my father decided to destroy my life by threatening to ruin my career because I was being bitchy about Wade’s fuck-up, which I thought was absolutely ridiculous. Only Dad had made things even worse by telling Wade that he was responsible for me. He gave Wade almost complete control over me, and he’d told me that I couldn’t go to Germany to compete in the Nebelhorn. Thinking about it, even now, made me livid.

I’d been so ready to do what Will had done, and go to court and remove his ass from my life. The night he’d laid into me, I’d stormed back to my room and started looking up lawyers. But Wade had come in and apologized for fucking up on the house in Boston, and he’d been so sincere, I’d melted. I had a hard time being mad at people who were nice to me, and Wade had been nice to me. I’d told him and Matt how nervous I was about the move, and he’d promised to keep me posted on the project, and he had. I’d never really liked Wade, probably because everyone else thought he was the Messiah, and because Matt had been fixated on him for so long, but he’d gone to bat with my father and gotten him to change his mind and let me go to Germany. That had shown me that Wade wasn’t going to arbitrarily fuck up my career.

My opposition to moving to Boston had faded one step at a time. First of all, I was kind of tired of all the douchebags here in California I skated with. Most of them weren’t even close to being good, but they all thought they were. Their false arrogance was grating. Then Matt and Wade had gotten back together, and now Matt was going to be in Boston with us. Matt was probably more or less my step-brother, but he’d been a really important part of my life. He was always patient with me, he put up with my moodiness and irrational ranting, and he was the one who’d gotten me started on skating in the first place. Matt was always in my corner. It would be so good to have him in Boston. And the third reason was that the Earl of Bridgemont, Alex Granger, was going to be living with us. Matt and Wade had met with him in Paris and worked through all their annoying objections to him staying with us. I’d offered to let him stay on the fourth floor in one of my guest rooms, and the thought of him being that close sent tingles down my spine. Visions of Alex popped into my mind, as I remembered how handsome and charming he was, and how intoxicating his accent was. I got myself so worked up; I had to take a break from packing and go beat off.

No sooner had I come back into the room than my phone rang. I looked at it, noticing there was no caller-ID showing. I usually didn’t answer it when I didn’t know who it was, but I decided to this time. “Hello.”

“JJ?” I heard Alex say.

“This is JJ,” I said, smiling, even though I felt a little guilty talking to him after just blowing a load while thinking about having sex with him.

“It’s Alex. I’m so glad I caught up with you.”

“It’s good to hear from you,” I said pleasantly.

“I was so happy to hear that not only are you planning to move to Boston, but that we’ll be sharing a floor,” he said, throwing out some charm. “I’ll try not to snore and keep you awake.”

“You won’t bother me,” I said much too hastily, and then felt myself blushing. Thank God he couldn’t see me over the phone.

“Let’s hope,” he said. “I’ve actually called you for a reason.”

“What do you need?” I asked, then worried that I sounded like a total slut.

“I was hoping to go to see you skate in Oberstdorf, at the Nebelhorn,” he said.

“That would be awesome!” I said enthusiastically.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, chuckling at my exuberance, and making me feel like an idiot. “I was wondering if you’d mind letting me fly back with you after the competition is over.”

“Not at all,” I said. “When are you coming to Oberstdorf?”

“I was of a mind to make it there by the 5^th,” he said.

My mind was working fast for a change. “I get in on the 3^rd,” I told him. “Why don’t I send the plane to get you on the 5^th, that way you can load up anything you want to take.”

“That is marvelous,” he said. God, his accent was so erotic, it was driving me crazy. “Thank you so much. That will save me from having to get German porters to track my things, and lug them around.”

I laughed at that. “Based on how friendly they were last year, you will owe me big time,” I joked.

He laughed. “Undoubtedly. Will I need to acquire tickets to see you skate?”

“I’ll handle that,” I insisted. That wasn’t a problem at all.

“Give me your e-mail address, and I’ll send you details on my plans,” he said. I gave it to him. “Then I will see you in Germany in a few days.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I said. We ended the call and I had to go back to the bathroom and masturbate again.