Mr. Brightside - 7. Chapter 7

Mr. Brightside

Chapter 7

After Venturi, left, Jason was a nervous wreck. Eventually, he gathered himself enough to finish getting ready for the gym. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep after all he had learned….or more importantly after all he hadn’t learned. Jason had many more questions than answers. He might as well hit the gym, Jason thought, hopefully exhausting himself enough to fall asleep despite his uneasy mind.

A run to the gym, a grueling workout, and a run back turned out to be enough to exhaust Jason’s body, but not his mind, which kept swirling. After showering and changing into some loose cotton pajama pants, Jason didn’t even pretend he could sleep. Instead, he crawled into bed with his laptop and a beer.

His first stop online was another search of Nickolai; surely he couldn’t have missed references to the abduction the first time he had looked the guy up. But no matter how many different search engines Jason used, no matter how many search terms, he found almost nothing. There was a bit about the home invasion, but it was buried in an article detailing crime in general in that neighborhood and didn’t go into any detail, merely stating that “one of the home’s occupant was assaulted and required medical attention, while the other was forced to leave the premises with the assailants.” Certainly nothing about a disappearance, or a kidnapping, or a reward.

And as for Corey, Jason found his Facebook page; it was still active. It had been started when Corey left home to attend LSU, which didn’t surprise Jason. From what little he remembered about Corey from high school, the only bit of information that stuck out was that Corey’s parents had been very devout Christian fundamentalists; in fact, they had attended the same church as Shane’s stepmother. Jason doubted they would have allowed Corey access to the internet, much less social media accounts, when he was under their roof.

Corey hadn’t posted much, but there were enough pictures that Jason was able to literally trace his decline from a fresh faced teen with a penchant for preppy clothes to an obviously strung out party boy over the course of a year or so. There was no mention of Shane except for “a friend I’m helping out” and later “MRWMNBNOF aka My Roommate Who Must Not Be Named On Facebook” which was clearly part of a running gag. Shane didn’t appear in Cory’s pictures, except as indistinct figure hovering on the edges of some group shots.

And as far as info on the fire, again he found basically nothing. Jason was eventually able to track down the name of the porn site, “Bywater Bad Bois” in a blog devoted to reviewing gay porn. It was only a brief post about the fire; apparently, the site had been pretty small time and had only been up and running a short time before the fatal blaze. The site itself had been shut down, but Jason was able to find a handful of scenes from BBB by searching PornMD.

Immediately after the search results came up, Jason did a double take. One scene was starring a performer named “Jayson Reed.” What the …..? After Jason clicked on the thumbnail and the scene started playing, he recognized Corey as one of the two boys, in fact, Corey was the boy billed as “Jayson.” “That asshole,” Jason muttered as he watched.

It was pretty standard; the only thing that distinguished the scene at all from thousands just like it was the distinctive New Orleans courtyard setting and the fact that the “director,” an older bald man with a beard and multiple tattoos eventually joined in the fun with the twinks. Jason couldn’t bring himself to watch the others. So other than finding out he had inspired a porn name, Jason drew another blank.

Eventually, Jason abandoned the beer and the internet search and tried to sleep. It eluded him; added to the worries about Shane, not to mention his own personal problems, he had another issue. Jason couldn’t pretend the porn with Corey hadn’t aroused him, but he was creeped out by the knowledge that at least one of the performers was dead. Plus…..there had just been something dirty about the scene. Jason groaned and continued tossing in a pointless effort to find a comfortable position and get some rest.

Jason was waiting on the porch when Ramon drove up promptly at 8 as usual. But like the other morning, as Jason had sat waiting and drinking his final cup of coffee, he had felt prying eyes. He had tried to shake off the feeling, telling himself he was being paranoid, but it had persisted. Somehow, the sight of the bulky, black suited Ramon opening his door made Jason feel safer, and he almost bolted from the porch to the limo door.

Arriving at Shane’s room again, Jason went through the now familiar routine: greet Shane’s still form with a kiss on the forehead, turn on some music, and brew yet another cup of coffee before returning to sit beside Shane. Today, Jason was pleased to notice that Shane’s appearance was continuing to improve: while some minor scrapes and bruises on his face still remained, the swelling was almost entirely gone. But remembering his conversation with Dec. Venturi, Jason’s positive feelings were fleeting. “What have you gotten yourself into?” he asked Shane for what seemed like the millionth time.

A bit later, Jason was standing by the window, the sheers pulled aside to reveal the view of the great lake that stretched before him. The day was gray and overcast, a good match for his mood. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the soft knock on the door or its opening. In fact, he wasn’t aware someone else had entered the room until he heard Laurie’s cheerful voice announce, “Jason, y’all have a visitor.” It took a moment for her words to penetrate his consciousness. Wondering who it could possibly be, he turned around.

Standing beside Laurie was a guy, who, while not tall, gave the impression of being much larger because of his broad shoulders and muscular frame. He was only a few years older than Jason, but his auburn hair had receded, a fact not hidden by the close cropped buzz that was undeniably flattering. In fact, the guy was very attractive with rugged good looks and blue-green eyes. Eyes that reminded Jason of Shane.

“Paul,” Jason said in surprise, unsure of his reception from Shane’s older cousin. Their last meeting had not been pleasant. It had taken place outside of a hospital room where Shane lay recuperating from his suicide attempt. Paul had been angry and adamant about doing as his younger cousin had asked and barring Jason from entering the room.

“Hi, Jason,” Paul said in a low, even tone, before going over to look at Shane. He gave a sigh and a quick shake of his head, before resting one burly hand on Shane’s bare shoulder. Jason, uncertain of what to do or say, continued to stand at the window, once more looking out over the lake as an uncomfortable silence built, broken only by Laurie’s quick “Goodbye” as she left.

Eventually, Paul left his examination of his cousin and moved over to stand by Jason at the window. Paul, too, turned to look at the water. “Viktor told me what happened, and that you’ve been at the hospital everyday since Shane’s been here. Thank, you,” Paul said, continuing to look straight ahead. “I got here as soon as I could; but it took a while. I’m glad he hasn’t been alone.”

For some reason, the fact that Viktor had gotten in touch with Paul surprised Jason; he had somehow assumed the police had done it. He would have called Paul himself, but the number he had for the man had long since changed, and an online search had quickly revealed how difficult looking for someone with the common name of “Paul Anderson” could be; it was even more fruitless since Jason hadn’t known where Paul was currently living.

“Viktor?” asked Jason in a surprised voice, turning to the other man. “You know Mr. Pamchenko? He called you?”

Paul turned to face him. “Sure I know Viktor. I used to have dinner with Shane, Viktor, and NIkolai whenever I managed to pass through New Orleans. I was at the engagement party, too.” His face darkened again as he sighed. “Poor Nikolai. He was a fun guy.”

“You think he’s dead?” asked Jason, noticing Paul spoke in the past tense.

“Sure. I mean it’s a shame, but this sort of thing….home invasions, car jackings, muggings….this shit happens all the time down here. One guy I used to work with in Shreveport moved here. Two guys jumped him one morning at 5 am as he was getting out of his car at home; they put in the trunk, drove him to an atm on the Westbank, and after he withdrew the cash…” here Paul, a sad look again on his face, sighed heavily, “they shot him in the head, put him back in the trunk and set the car on fire.”

“ I figure something like that is what happened,” Paul continued. “I doubt that he and Shane kept any cash around the house...at least not big stuff. After whoever broke in looked around and couldn’t find anything, they must have dragged Nikolai off to the ATM. The body’s probably at the bottom of the Mississippi.”

“Is that what Shane thinks happened?” Jason pressed.

“We’ve never really talked about it. He always said it was too much to deal with.” Paul jerked his head toward Shane. “You know him…..he never did like to talk about the bad stuff. Always keeps it inside.”

Paul continued, “And in this case, I can’t say that I blame him. I think he feels guilty. All he’s told me was that he was in the bedroom when the guys broke the door in. He heard some noise---opened the door to the living room---and boom. Some sort of billy club upside the head. When he wakes up, the front door is wide open, the living room’s been ransacked, and Nikolai’s gone.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” Paul said, turning to look at his cousin. “The poor guy has had a bad run of it. I mean his mom dies while he’s in high school, then that shit with you….” at Jason’s involuntary sharp intake of breath, Paul shot him a sheepish look. “Sorry,” he said, “I meant to stick with the whole ‘let bygones be bygones’ thing.” He extended his right hand toward Jason. “We good?” Paul asked.

“We’re good,” Jason said taking the proffered hand. “Thank, I appreciate it.”

They both turned back to look at the lake again in silence, but this time the silence was more companionable, almost comforting.

Eventually, Jason realized Paul was staring at him. Not in a bad way, but intensely. Jason’s eyebrows rose. “What?” he asked Paul.

, “Anything to drink up in this joint?” Paul replied with his own question.

“Sure,” said Jason, going over to the credenza. “There is a coffee machine, and plenty of soda and water.” To illustrate the last statement, he threw open the door to the mini fridge to display it’s embarrassment of riches.

“No, asshole,” Paul said in a joking voice. “I meant a real drink. I was going to fill a flask before I came over, but I forgot. I think I saw a convenience store down the block, I’m going to run down there and get some hootch. I think we need to have a real ‘mano y mano’, and if we’re going to have that ‘mano y mano’, I personally need something more bracing than soda pop. Any requests?”

Jason laughed, surprising himself; apparently Paul hadn’t changed much in the intervening years since they used to hang out regularly. With a start Jason realized he couldn’t actually remember the last time he had laughed. “No, I’m actually good, so suit yourself.”

“Luckily, suiting myself is something I’m really great at. I’ll be back in a bit.” And with that remark, Paul left.

After Paul’s exit from the room, Jason wandered back to the window, pondering Paul’s theory about Nikolai. It did make sense, and it certainly dovetailed with the articles about crime, especially home invasions, that Jason had read about last night. But it somehow felt wrong, like too much of a loose end, though Jason supposed that real life was unfortunately full of loose ends.

A movement on the bed caught his eye, and Jason went toward Shane. The swelling in Shane’s head was gone, and his medical team was reducing his drug dosage to ease him into consciousness. Laurie had warned Jason that Shane might start experiencing some agitation as he began the slow process of waking from the induced coma.

Shane seemed to be distressed; his brow was furrowed, and he was making slight, very slight rocking movements. But compared to his utter stillness of the previous days, any movement, period, was something of a shock. “Shhh,” Jason said soothingly, stroking Shane’s bare shoulder, Jason’s fingers almost unconsciously tracing the outline of the vivid phoenix. “It’s okay. It will all be okay. I promise. I’m here.” Either the soft words or the soft strokes worked, and the brows unfurrowed, and the movements stopped.

Even after Shane had settled back into peace, Jason stood beside him, his hand on the other man’s shoulder, stroking it. Looking down at Shane, Jason couldn’t think about the Gordian Knot Shane’s life had apparently become; Jason could only think about how much he had missed and how much he carried about the virtual stranger now back in peaceful slumber.

Jason smiled down at the still figure, thinking that he felt almost like a prince in some twisted fairy tale. Jason was so distracted by Shane, that again he failed to hear the door to the room open and someone enter. Paul stood silently for a moment just inside the room, watching Jason’s expression as he looked at Shane and his tender caresses he bestowed on the sleeper.

Satisfied with what he was witnessing, Paul spoke. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?” he asked.

Jason turned to face the older man, his hand still on Shane’s shoulder. He thought about lying, but what was the point? “Yes,” he said quietly.

“Want one?” Paul pulled a six pack of beer out of the brown paper bag he carried.

“Beer? In a hospital? Before lunch?” Jason asked. Paul answered him with a cocked eyebrow and held the six pack out toward Jason.

Jason chuckled. “You’ve sold me.”

Paul pulled two bottles from the pack and squeezed the rest into the crowded mini fridge. He carried them over to the sofa, sat down, and jerked his head, indicating he wanted Jason to join him. After a slight hesitation and a final look at Shane, Jason walked over and sat beside the other man.

Paul took a long sip of beer before his spoke. “This is a conversation long overdue. It’s one we should have had four years ago, but honestly, I was too pissed at you then and, technically, it wasn’t any of my business. It’s still not, but I’ve managed to overcome my scruples on that point.”

“I just don’t understand,” Paul continued after a sip of his beer, “what happened with you two. It’s obvious to me that you have feelings for Shane; it was obvious to me when you were still kids. Hell, I was pretty sure the two of you were hooking up….I kept waiting for y’all to come out to me. So, when I found out that Shane tried to kill himself because you outed him…..I couldn’t wrap my head around it. So what happened?”

Paul took another sip of beer as he waited for Jason to answer. Jason sat in silence, his face averted. The silence stretched out between them until Paul broke it. “Look, forget I said anything….it’s really none of my business, and I do want bygones to be bygones. I’m just…:”

Still looking away, Jason interrupted Paul. “It’s alright. I guess I do want to talk about it. I’ve never really talked about what happened to anyone,” he said. “Well, I talked about it a little with dad…..”

Jason drank a bit of beer, and finally turned to face Paul, who was watching him intently. Jason closed his eyes and let the past wash over him.