Mr. Brightside - 1. Chapter 1

Mr. Brightside

Chapter 1

May, 2015

“What am I doing here?” Jason thought as he stood in line waiting to pay his cover to get into the bar. Everything about the young man proclaimed his nervousness about being seen in front of this particular establishment, from his eyes nervously darting around to the baseball cap he had pulled down as low as possible in a transparent attempt to disguise himself. “Jesus, this is a mistake. I should be at home unpacking. What if someone sees me?” ran the almost constant refrain in his head.

The idea of being seen going into a gay bar, especially one known for the mostly naked boys dancing on the bar, terrified him, but he knew that the chance of being recognized was almost non existent. He only knew a handful of people in New Orleans, and those were his brand new boss and the one or two future co-workers he had met when he had interviewed with the engineering firm this spring. None of these had seemed like the partying type, and Jason doubted they would have remembered him that well anyway. And it was another three months until his contract officially began. As for his fiancee, (he winced when he thought of Denise), she was an hour and a half away at LSU, already buried in work for the master’s program she was pursuing. Besides, the thought of that prim, staunchly Baptist girl strolling casually along one of the lesser known streets of the French Quarter at midnight was almost enough to make him smile. Almost.

As the line finally started moving toward the doorman taking the $5 cover, Jason knew he had to make his decision. Go or stay. “What am I doing here?” he thought again as he reached the door, handing over his money and his right wrist to be stamped. But, if he were honest with himself, which he rarely was, he would admit he knew exactly what he was doing here.

After a rocky first couple of years of college, he had settled in and managed to earn his mechanical engineering degree with a respectable, if not brilliant, GPA, though it had taken longer than the traditional 4 years. But he had taken advantage of his extra time in college to work on several successful academic projects and several summer internships. This additional practical experience had led to multiple job offers. The moment he realized one of the jobs was in New Orleans, he knew that was the one he would take. Oh, there were lots of reasons it was a logical decision---while not the highest paid, the salary would go far in New Orleans, it was only an hour and a half or so to LSU where Denise had decided to attend graduate school so they could see each other often, and since the firm was a national one, there was the likelihood for promotion and transference to another city after Denise graduated and they married. She had made it clear that she had no intention of living permanently in that “Den of Iniquity.” And she had not been exactly excited that he had used his signing bonus to move to the city 12 weeks before his job’s start date. Jason’s official reasons for moving there so early were about wanting time to find a great place, getting settled before what was certain to be an intense working schedule, etc., had sounded hollow, even to himself.

Denise may have been sheltered and naive, but she wasn’t dumb. She was right to suspect the reasons he gave for spending the summer in New Orleans were bogus, though Jason was sure she really didn’t know why he wanted to move there. He wanted to move there because of an afternoon in May a couple of years earlier.

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He had been attending a student conference there with some friends, and they had spent one free day exploring the quarter, eating burgers at Port of Call, singing along with the piano players at Pat O’Brien’s, shopping in the French Market.

Eventually, they had passed by the group of gay bars clustered at St. Ann and Bourbon. By this point, all had partaken of specialty drinks and daiquiris at their various stops and, none being big drinkers, they were a bit tipsy. One of them, in fact, had headed back to the hotel for a nap, and the others were no longer paying much attention to their surroundings or each other, distracted by the sights and sounds of the Quarter. Jason had fallen to the back of the group, and while the others had moved on down Bourbon St., lured by the giant hand grenade mascot advertising the drink of the same name, Jason’s eye had been caught by the taut and tanned flesh of the guy dancing on the bar at the Pub.

Almost automatically, he dropped even further back from his group, and drunkenly confident that they weren’t watching, he had stepped inside the bar. He had only been inside one other gay bar, a very small one in Monroe a couple of years earlier. It had taken months to get up the courage to go inside; and once in, he had been so paranoid about being seen and recognized that he had fled after only a few minutes, vowing never to go in another gay bar. And then there had been that thing with Shane…

He had actually shaken his head, refusing to think about that. After all Shane was gone and that was all over. What was here now was this bar, filled with men, some of them really good looking, especially the guys dancing on the bar. He had ordered another beer and had sat at the bar sipping it. It was so surreal to be here in a place where you didn’t have to hide your looks at other guys, where could run your hands over another guy’s smooth body if you were willing to slip a dollar in his briefs that were, in fact, very brief indeed. Add the music, the laughter, relaxed atmosphere, in a small way it felt a bit, to Jason, like coming home.

He felt something in him relaxing; it was then that he felt his phone vibrating, signalling a text. “Hey dude, where are you? We’re headed back up Bourbon.”

He freaked, knocking over his beer as he fled, desperately hoping that he could get out of the bar before his friends saw him. He did manage to do that, and by the time he caught up with them, he had calmed down and had devised a cover story involving a t-shirt shop. He trembled inside, though, at how close he had come to being caught. And it was the following summer that he had asked Denise to marry him. But he never forgot those fleeting moments of joy and freedom he had experienced in the bar.

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As he stepped inside the door, Jason did feel a bit of a let down. The atmosphere here was very different than at the Pub that long ago sunny afternoon. Instead of freedom and happiness, here in a much seedier bar at midnight, there was an undercurrent of hunger and desperation. Still, he was here, there were hot men on the bar, and lots of cute guys around, so he decided to stay, at least for one beer.

Competition for seats at the bar, especially near the dancers was fierce, so Jason took his drink and moved from the main bar area to the smaller room at the back. It wasn’t crowded, only a handful of guys sat on the banquette that wrapped two of the walls. One or two other guys milled around by a small platform where another man danced.

He was very different from the the tanned muscle boys on the bar, and Jason felt his gaze being drawn to the dancer. He was pale, very pale, his spotlit flesh almost glowing against the dark walls. He had unnaturally red hair in a retro cut, longer and pomaded on top, cut short on the sides and back with a neat beard dyed to match. A beautifully detailed tattoo of some sort of bird drawn in brilliant colors wound up his upper right arm, with the wings stretching across his chest and back. Even from a distance, Jason could see how beautifully designed the bird was, which he realized must be a phoenix from the flames woven into the design. The tattoo seemed very familiar somehow, but Jason knew he had never seen one quite like it.

The dancer wore black bikini briefs and black biker boots, their darkness calling even more attention to his perfect blue white skin. Aside from that, his only other adornments were wide black leather cuffs on each wrist. While he was obviously in good shape, his body wasn’t the muscled gym built body of the other dancers---the muscles that moved and shifted under his smooth skin were the lean muscles of a dancer or a yoga student. And while the two other dancers engaged with and flirted with the crowd, this one was dancing with his eyes closed, seemingly lost in the music.

Jason moved closer to him; somehow it seemed important to him to be near this man to know what color those eyes would be when he opened them. There was just something about this guy that drew him. “Of course,” thought Jason cynically, “that’s why they hire guys like this, to lure people in.” Still, he stood close and waited. The dancer’s eyes opened, swept unseeing across the room, and closed again as the song changed.

His eyes had only been open for a moment, but Jason had seen them clearly. And now he was terrified. They had been as beautiful as he hoped for---deeply colored, half way between blue and green. He knew that they would shift depending on what shirt the dancer wore, sometimes a glowing cobalt against a bright blue shirt, sometimes as aqua as a blue topaz, sometimes almost a hunter green. Jason knew this because he had seen those eyes seemingly change as their owner tried on various outfits. Jason knew that because those eyes belonged to Shane.

Shaken, he moved away before Shane could open those eyes again and recognize him. He quickly downed his beer, and resisting the urge to flee out of the door, he fought his way to the bar and bought another one. Going back to the back room, he found a spot far enough away to be out of Shane's eye line, but close enough to study him.

No wonder the tattoo had seemed familiar; Shane had spent hours doodling the same sorts of stylized designs in notebooks and sketch pads. Jason had urged his pal to major in art, but Shane’s father wouldn’t hear of it, and Shane had bowed to his pressure, settling for a business degree. Jason couldn’t believe that he hadn’t recognized his former best friend and roommate, but it had been 4 years since he had seen Shane, and he looked very different. When he and Shane had still been friends, Shane had loved the outdoors and spent hours outside, resulting in a perpetual tan and white streaks in his dirty blond hair. Jason had liked to tease him, calling him a redneck surfer since Shane had grown up on a small town farm.

In any case, Shane’s longish blond hair was gone, and if his paleness was any indication, it had been a long while since he had spent significant time outdoors. But still, Jason thought, even with the beard, and the dye, and everything, he should have recognized Shane. The strong nose, the curved pink lips (enticingly framed by that beard), the curve of his brow bone….all these were the same.

There had been a time Jason had known, or at least, thought he knew, Shane as well as he had known himself, both inside and out. But, he remembered sadly, that hadn’t actually been the case. Besides, beyond the physical changes, there was something different about Shane. He couldn’t comprehend Shane as a go go boy. He had been so modest that even after he and Jason had lived together for over a year, Shane had still dressed in the bathroom. The idea of Shane dancing in public in his underwear was mind boggling.

In any case, this was the first time in four years Jason had been in the same place as Shane, and he wasn’t going to waste his opportunity. Jason had accepted sometime ago that he was, in many ways, a coward, and approaching Shane after all that had happened scared the shit out of him, but Jason had to find a way. As he nursed his beer, mulling over what exactly to do, the music ended, and Shane stepped down from the box. As he made his way through the room to a side door, a taller man stepped toward him, grabbing his shoulder to stop him. Shane scowled, but paused as the guy whispered in his ear. Shane jerked his shoulder away with an angry look and continued on his way. The guy grabbed him again, this time also grabbing Shane’s crotch.

Jason tensed in anger, and moved toward them automatically. Before he could move more than a step or two, Shane had wrenched free and slapped the creep across the face. It was a hard slap, and the noise carried over the music. Before the other man could react, a bouncer was there, grabbing the dude and pushing him, none too gently toward the exit. Stunned, Jason stood there not knowing what to do. He was trying to comprehend his Shane (a guy so gentle he refused to kill spiders, scooping them up on magazines to let them loose outside) hitting someone, even if they deserved it.

Hell, one time Shane had almost given Jason whiplash when he had slammed on the brakes in order to avoid hitting a turtle, then getting out and moving it from the road and into a ditch, ignoring the angry driver behind them. Shane had definitely changed, and it was Jason’s fault.

Shane had finally made it across the bar and into a side door. Jason moved to the bar for a bottle of water and to wait for Shane to emerge. The bartender had noticed Jason’s interest in the dancer, and leaned forward as he gave Jason his water.

“He’s something special, isn’t he?” the bartender said, motioning toward the door with his head.

“Shane?” Jason said, startled out of the thoughts he had been lost in.

“You know his real name?” the bartender said, equally startled.

“Real name?” Jason asked. “Yeah I know Shane…..from college. I haven’t seen him in a long time though. But what do you mean ‘real name’?”

“Oh most of the guys who dance here have a stage name. It adds a little mystique, keeps some distance from the clients, too.”

“That makes sense.” Curious, Jason asked, “What’s Shane’s stage name?”

“Kieran. But, like I said, he’s special. Different from the others.”

“I need to talk to him. When does he get off?”

"Actually, his shift just ended. That’s the changing room.” The bartender again nodded toward the side door. “He should be out in a minute.”

“Thanks,” said Jason. “I need some air. I’ll wait for him outside.”

He headed out the door. Even this early into the summer, the air was heavy and sultry. Jason leaned against the rough brick of the bar, trying to think of what to say. How do you apologize to somebody for ruining their life? He fought the urge to leave, to run back to his apartment, but he owned it to Shane to act like a man for once in his life instead of a goddamn coward. He stood there for what seemed like hours, no longer caring if someone saw him here. His entire being focused on how he would approach his former friend.

Jason was so lost in thought, he almost missed the figure in black that passed him, but he roused himself before Shane had reached the end of the block.

“Shane,” he called rushing toward the other man.

Shane, now dressed in a sleeveless black tee and slim black jeans, paused and turned around, looking surprised. In the darkness it took him a moment to recognize who had called his name, since Jason was the last person he had ever expected to see again, especially here.

“What are you doing here?” Shane asked. His voice was lower and huskier than Jason remembered, and he had lost the nasal twang of his hometown accent.

“I just moved to town. I graduated this spring and got a job here with an engineering firm.” Jason felt relief flood through him. He hadn’t actually expected Shane to stop and talk to him….he had thought the redhead (it felt strange to think of Shane like that) to run away, avoiding him, like he had the last time Jason had tried to approach him.

“You got your engineering degree? I knew you could. I always knew you could do it.”

At Shane’s words, Jason felt tears welling up inside him. So many people, including his parents, had tried to talk him out of majoring in engineering. Though his high school grades had been decent, math had always been difficult for him, a struggle. But Shane had encouraged him to go for his dream, had tutored him when he could, had cheerfully gotten up at 6am every morning to wake up Jason who slept through alarms. And Jason had repaid that belief and help with betrayal. The fact that Shane could be excited for him wounded Jason more than words of reproach ever could. And just like that, Jason was sobbing on the street like a child lost.

With no hesitation, Shane walked up to the crying man and took him in his arms. Jason stood there crying, tears that he had bottled up for years. He felt Shane’s arms around him, strong arms, arms that he hadn’t felt in years. He felt Shane’s warmth and smelled his scent, spicy and woody and delicious. Through his sobs, Jason kept repeating, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Sssshhhhh. It’s alright, It doesn’t matter now anyway.” Shane comforted him. “I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. It’s alright.”

Finally, Jason pulled away, drained, the tears no longer falling. Shane smiled wryly at his tear stained face and pulled out a neatly folded bandana from his back pocket. “Here,” he said. “Wipe your face. It’s clean.”

Jason took it. It smelled like Shane, and Jason inhaled the fragrance as he dried his eyes. He offered it back, but Shane said, “Keep it. I have others. It really was good to see you, and I’m very happy for you, but it’s late, and I need to get going.” He turned to go.

“Please, “ Jason said. “Can I see you again?” He fished in his pocket, and found a business card. “This has my cell number on it. Call me? Please?” he said with a pleading look on his face.

Shane sighed and took the card, handling it gingerly like it was a sharp object. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea. I’m not the same person you knew. I’ve changed.” He looked directly into Jason’s eyes, who shivered. Shane’s eyes were old, and sad, and looked as if they had seen things no one should ever see.

Jason tried to keep it light. “I can see that,” he said, nodding to the tattoo.

Reluctantly, Shane laughed slightly. “I meant more than just a bottle of dye and a couple of tattoos.”

Heat flooded through Jason. He had only noticed the phoenix tattoo. That meant any other ones would have been on the small patch of skin hidden by the tiny black briefs. His mind reeled as his considered the possibilities. He stepped closer, moving directly in front of Shane.

“Please,” was all he said.

“Alright,” Shane sighed again, putting the card into his jeans’ pocket. He turned away again as if to go, but suddenly he turned around and grabbed Jason’s face in his two hand. “Oh well, I never did have much sense,” he said, and then kissed Jason;

It was a soft kiss, and quick, and before Jason could process it fully, Shane was gone, his black figure already melted into the shadows.