THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Jason

Written by Lady Poetess
egiggles at moose-mail.com
http://www.asstr.org/~bbp

Please do not reproduce on any website without permission. This
story has no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.

ONE

Critical situations required a superhero. While Jason Nathaniel
Behr wouldn't exactly see himself as a superhero, he figured this
was a critical enough situation. He liked to see himself as an
able man. Maybe not exactly James Bond, he had learned enough from
Matt Damon and Wes Bentley (how to pick locks), Ricky Martin and
Billy Zane (how to perform a decent B&E), and Jeremy Northam (how
to move silently) to see himself pretty capable to handle a bit of
B&E.

Jeremy had warned him that it was a plan that went beyond stupid,
there was probably no word to describe it. Ricky even volunteered
to do the B&E himself, and Jason would have taken him on that if
Brian didn't look at him with that look that said he would make
Jason hurt bad if the latter said okay.

Okay, so maybe a plan inspired by that stupid movie You've Got
Mail didn't sound good on paper. But Jason wanted his bookshop
back, and damned if he let Jeffrey Nordling take his shop and turn
the whole block into a chain bookstore. Actually Jeffrey had all
the right, since the shop was under Jason's brother's name, and
fucking Danny sold out to Jeffrey to cover his sorry ass debts.

Jason had slaved his butt off for Whacked Beat and he'd be damned
before he saw his store turned into a freaking Borders store. And
unlike that dumb character played by Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail,
he wasn't going to ask the press to cover his problem or sit
around hoping Jeffrey Nordling, Corporate Bastard, would come
around. No, that shit movie inspired him to take action - to steal
the grant and force Bastard Nordling to talk to him face to face
over this.

Jason hated everything about the movie except for the bookstore
part. He could use the interior decorating of the fictitious
bookstore to spruce up his own - after he had the grant in his
hand and Bastard Nordling out of his life.

So far so good - Bastard Nordling lived in one of those posh
apartments one could afford only by trampling poor folks like
Jason like maggots. Jason faced no problem walking up to the door
and picking the lock. He was a fast learner, taking lessons from
Wes and Matt without both men knowing the other's teaching, and
learned to combine both ex-cons' advices. The room was in
darkness, and Jason switched on that cute, sophisticated tiny
flashlight he sort of borrowed from Kevin Richardson when the
latter wasn't watching too closely.

The sight of a half-emptied glass of wine and the bottle at the
living room table stopped him short. Shit, Bastard Nordling was
supposed to be out today, from what his secretary told Jason this
afternoon. Jason saw only one glass, so he relaxed slightly. If
Bastard Nordling was having company, things could get
embarrassing, because Jason needed to break into the safe in the
Bastard's bedroom.

The beep of the answering machine coming to life almost made him
jump out of his skin. His loud squeak was enough to wake the dead.
Wincing, he dashed into the most shadowed corner as the tape of
the answering machine started playing.

"This is Jeffrey Nordling. I've had a hard day and even a nuclear
bomb probably wouldn't awaken me. Leave your message and I'll get
back to you as soon as I can. Maybe."

At least the Bastard had a sense of humor, Jason thought as he
released the breath he had been holding. He waited for a few
thundering heartbeats, but all was silent except for the caller
leaving his message.

"This is Hugh. If that moron Behr tries to break in and should you
catch him - I am betting you will catch that incompetent moron,
please tell him that James is expecting him to come back in one-
piece. I will also appreciate if you do not hand my lover's best
friend to the cops."

Jason rolled up his eyes. Did everyone know he was going to break
into the Bastard's place? He had confided to James Marsden, who
must have blabbed to everyone else. He would have to talk to James
when he got back.

First, he erased the message. Next, he had to get to the bedroom.

Where was it?

He reached for the sketched map in his pocket and squinted at it.
Shit, he needed some light. Making his way to the lamp at the
table, he tripped over something and fell heavily onto the floor
with a loud crash. Fuck! He lay on the floor, not daring to move,
and wondered if jail food tasted good.

Still, no rampaging Bastard came out to tear him to pieces. Maybe
the man really was knocked out cold.

Carefully, tripping only two more times and making only a little
crash each time, he switched on the lamp and scanned the map.
Right, over there was the bedroom.

He didn't notice the light, barely visible through the hinges of
the door, until it was too late. Like a moth to a flame, he
couldn't turn away, however, not now, and he turned the doorknob.

It opened.

He realized belatedly that he should have put on those gloves he
had in his pocket before he touched the door.

And worse, the door swung wide open. Anyone in the room would have
seen him immediately. No one saw him however, because Jeffrey
Nordling was asleep. Not in the large bed, but slumped over a
worktable with his arms cushioning his chin, a sea of paper around
his head. The light was switched on, and the air conditioner was
running, and the Bastard slept, oblivious.

Jason thought it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
His knees wobbled as he felt weak all of a sudden, and slumped
against the doorway, he let out a soft muted sigh. There it was
again, the faint throbbing of pain in his chest, as if he had just
taken a blow in his heart.

In the light, it was as if a faint glow of light enveloped the
sleeping man. In sleep, the deep lines on Jeffrey's face
smoothened, making him look. well, normal. Accessible. Jeffrey had
this clean-cut all-American wholesome look that might had been
pretty and little else in his younger days, but age had chiseled
those facial bones, and laugh lines as well as worry lines had
given him a distinguished air of maturity.

Jason had seen the man only in magazines, boring economic
magazines that he read only as homework after he realized that his
store had gone to the highest bidder. What he saw was a mere man,
tired and worn out, and all the more devastatingly handsome with
his normalcy. There are some men too handsome and too pretty, they
seemed like inaccessible gods. Jeffrey Nordling seemed a mere
fallen fighter who might have taken a small sleep out of
weariness.

Once upon a time Jason would itch to touch the man, to see if the
man was solid and real. He still did, fuck it - even now his right
hand was moving as if at its own accord to touch the sleeping
man's head.

It was at that time that Jason's pager went off in a loud series
of beeping.

"Fuck!" Jason snarled in exasperation the same time as the
sleeping man jumped awake with a perfectly timed "What the fuck!"
of his own.

Jason ripped the fucking pager out of his pocket and flung it
across the room and reached for the gun he, err, 'borrowed' from
Jeremy with his other hand. Stumbling back, he aimed the gun at
the stunned-looking Jeffrey Nordling. "Don't move!" he yelled. "Or
I'll shoot."

The Bastard obviously didn't care. A hard backhand caused Jason to
yelp as the gun flew out of his hand across the room.

"Eek." Jason tried to fight, but he found himself pinned to the
floor by a pair of rather meaty hands around his neck. "Ugh."

The fingers loosened their grip a little. "Now, maybe you will
tell me what the fuck are you trying to do here," Jeffrey Nordling
said in a low, hard voice.

He looked a very different man now awake, a far cry from the
sleeping repose he exhibited. The bright green eyes were red-
rimmed from exhaustion, but they still glittered with danger.
Those lips, hinting of laughter, now tightened in predatory
instinct to kill. Belatedly, even as he fought for air, he
remembered Jeremy's offhand remark that Jeffrey served in the army
before, and how Jeremy remarked, while he accompanied Jason on a
pity date to watch Scream, that people were most dangerous when
they are mostly acting on instincts.

Jeffrey was still not fully awake, and he would probably choke the
life out of Jason when he gained control of his faculties. Jason
looked at the ceiling and thought, oddly for a man who was about
to die, of what he wanted on his tombstone. Here was a man who
learned common sense too late - that was a nice one.

"I - uh, can't - speak - breathe," Jason gasped.

At once the fingers loosened until they are firmly around but not
enough to suffocate him.

"You," Jeffrey said, surprising Jason. "I saw you. You are at my
office, pretending to be a pizza delivery guy."

Remembering the fiasco that almost had him killed by two burly
security guards, and how the delighted bitch of a receptionist
kept screaming, "Beat him, whack him boys!" (bitch), Jason closed
his eyes in humiliation as heat flooded his face. "I just want my
shop back," he said.

"Shop? What shop?" Jeffrey had one hand leave Jason's neck and now
placed it on the middle of Jason's chest.

Through the thick fabric of his shirt, Jason felt the man's touch
searing right through his skin, and he shivered involuntarily as a
sliver of lust cut through his haze of fear.

"Maybe we can work things out." Jeffrey was now looking at him
with a predatory gleam in his eyes. And Jason was now more
terrified because this time the lust in Jeffrey's eyes weren't
just the need to kill. That hand on his chest now slid slowly in a
caressing gesture along Jason's stomach, stopping only at where
his shirt was tucked into his jeans.

"No," Jason whispered, he couldn't speak aloud.

"Why not?" Jeffrey pushed Jason's shirt upwards, his fingers
burrowing under the fabric to tease Jason's clenched stomach
muscles. His lips were so close as his face lowered to Jason's,
that Jason could smell the alcohol on the man's breath. Then,
"What the hell am I doing?" Jeffrey said in what seemed a voice of
exasperation. He groaned and lowered his forehead on Jason's
chest.

Jason looked at the man lying on him, not daring to breath. He was
struck by how beautiful this man was, up close, and how tired
Jeffrey seemed. Indeed, weariness exuded seemingly from every pore
of Jeffrey's body. And Jeffrey just lay there, like a battle-weary
lion. At its own impulse, Jason's right hand reached up and
touched the man's cheek, feeling the raspy, sensual burn of the
man's beard stubble on his skin.

Maybe he was mad, maybe they had both lost their minds, but when
Jeffrey looked up and into Jason's eyes in surprise and question,
Jason only let his fingers touch the man's lips. And he watched as
Jeffrey's tongue snaked out to touch his fingers, licking them
before letting his lips part and take them into his mouth.

Then they were kissing, their tongues rubbing against each other
in a slither of rising desire, while Jeffrey pushed Jason's shirt
up until he couldn't push any higher. Then he sighed and his mouth
began lavishing caresses in maddeningly sensual tongue licks and
suckles on the curve Jason's neck until Jason arched his head back
and moaned. Then Jeffrey was nibbling his chest, suckling his
nipples until they swelled in pleasure, until Jason gasped and
pulled the man back and kissed him in a most bruising ferocity.

He was drowning, drowning, barely aware of anything but a
sensation of that rare moment when he was drowning in Jeffrey's
arms, in a sanctuary of warmth and security and connecting with a
soul even if they was all illusionary. He was barely aware of
raising his hips for Jeffrey to strip him off his jeans, only the
man's kiss and tongue in his mouth, until he felt the man's wide
moist tip pressed against his clenching anal ring. The cock
pushed, and Jason cried silently, muted by Jeffrey's mouth on his,
as he felt his flesh gave way in a wrenching tear that caused him
to shudder and arched his back. The action only allowed Jeffrey to
drive deeper, until Jason felt as if he was being split open by
the thick penis.

Jeffrey thrust one steady plunge, and Jason could only clung to
him, clawing at Jeffrey's back until he could feel the man's naked
skin. He shuddered as Jeffrey fucked him hard, lifting his legs to
clasp the man's pumping lower body. Finally, as Jason clenched
Jeffrey's buttock cheeks hard, lost in his own ecstasy, as the man
gave one thrust so deep, so hard up him, he heard Jeffrey's harsh,
triumphant growl of pleasure, felt the man's drenching climax
sluicing his insides, he couldn't help but to let his head fall
back and wait for his breath to steady.

Looking at the ceiling stupidly, he thought, wow, what a night.



The page was from his mother. He staggered home at three in the
morning, and erased the message. The answering machine at his
apartment provided no respite. His mother left three messages -
"Jason, I hear you are trying to break into someone's place!
Granted, your brother is a moron, but dear, please don't do
something stupid like getting yourself thrown into jail or worse,
killed. Call me and tell me you're okay."

Jason smiled despite himself as he kicked off his jeans, and threw
the semen-smelling pair into his washing machine. Dear mom. Who
would've thought Agatha Behr, white trash and alcoholic junkie,
would have turned herself around so completely? She was still
convinced that her alcohol/drug addiction was the cause of Jason
being born 'funny'. Jason considered himself normal, but Agatha
took her son's kleptomania and hyperactivity a punishment from the
divine being.

She really loved her two children, no matter what faults she had.
It wasn't easy, but she got into rehab, got a steady job at a
supermarket until her kids grew up, and now spent her days working
as a cook at a caf‚ and her nights watching cable TV. Jason loved
her, but that mother can be a pain in the ass.

It was only when he moved out could he convince himself that he
was a normal guy, not some mentally handicapped fellow his mother
treated him as. Okay, so he couldn't concentrate, was crazily
hyperactive, didn't speak until he was nine, and scared the hell
out of her when he was ten and was obsessed with everything alien
and satanic. But he was twenty-seven now, and he was reading books
that claimed to teach him how to have a longer concentration span.
He tried not to steal when he could, and he certainly spoke more
than he did before. He also had a few friends.

And he could take care of himself, he thought as he placed the
precious grant he took from Jeffrey when the latter was asleep,
exhausted truly from sexual bliss earlier that night. (He refused
to feel guilty - okay, he did, but he had to do this.) His methods
were unorthodox, but he could take care of himself.

Then, why, as he played the Bryan Ferry CD he just bought a few
days before, did he feel like crying to the strains of music on
the radio? Bryan Ferry was singing, "There's a band playing on the
radio/With a rhythm of rhyming guitars/There's a band playing on
the radio/And it's drowning the sound of my tears." Jason looked
at the clothes spinning in the washing machine and thought, how
apt.

He was lonely before. He just never knew how acute until tonight.
Every touch, every breath, every scent, of alcohol and sex - he
watched the clothes spin and tried not to think.



TWO

Jeffrey Derek Nordling stepped out of the way in time to avoid
three roller-blading shrieking youngsters barreling out of the
door of Whacked Beat. Jesus, he was definitely in another crazy
whacked out dimension. This area of New York was one he would
never visit under usual circumstances, and privately he thought it
was about time civilization conquered and would eventually turn
this lot of graffiti-riddled shops and all into clean shopping
malls and overpriced bistros. Nothing like yuppies throwing money
away in the name of capitalism to restore his faith in good old
Uncle Sam.

It was two weeks after he awoke that morning from the best sleep
he ever had. Usually it was he awaking too early and suffering
some form of non-alcohol-induced hangover, but that morning, his
head felt clear and it was as if he was a hundred pounds lighter
in his soul. Even when he discovered two of his ties missing as
well as a grant of a store his company recently acquired, he still
could whistle to a tune of his childhood days as he shaved.

He looked at the corner store, an innocuous worn-down looking
structure. Whacked Beat - what a ridiculous, if quaint, name for a
bookstore. Normally he wouldn't be aware of the existence of this
store if this store hadn't held out against being bought by him
for so long. It was annoying, for this store was the only one in
this prime area unwilling to sell out to make way for a new
suburban mall. Until Daniel Behr got involved in and lost a
lawsuit and needed money to avoid bankruptcy, and finally, Jeffrey
was well on his way to making some Japanese corporate suits happy.

Jason Behr had given him a lot of problems, and it irritated him
that he and his men had been concerting their efforts at the wrong
person for so long. Who would've thought Daniel was the one who
owned the store? And Daniel was the one who was more than willing
to sell out?

He had never met Jason Behr before, since it was always his
underlings who did his dirty work. Now, he wished he had known
Jason Behr, unlike his rather weasel-like brother, was a delicate,
elfin-looking man with too-bright eyes that seemed to hide too
many secrets. (He was pretty sure it was Jason who broke into his
place that night - he'd find out soon, wouldn't he?) Dark hair
gave that man an appearance of a dark elfin being, and his pale
complexion only added to illusion of darkness surrounding the man.
A man who was made to walk the shadows, Jeffrey's favorite fantasy
novelists might say.

And a man whose timid attempts at intimidation bemused as well as
aroused his protective tendencies, and a man whose hard nail
imprints on Jeffrey's back and lower portions of his body still
burned in Jeffrey's mind long after the bloody scratches had
healed.

Still, Jeffrey hesitated outside the store entrance. This place
reminded him of an old drug store he used to drop by when he was a
kid, poor and fast becoming adept at shoplifting. Shaking off
useless memories, he pushed open the door.

The store was larger than it looked from the outside. Or rather,
it was a clever illusion of largeness created by use of several
tiers of floors, all lined with comic racks. Comics in magazine or
book form - Jeffrey's eyes widened at the sight of comics
American, Chinese, and Japanese lining every inch of available
space, fighting for attention of the mostly young customers with
posters and art plates as well as videos of comic characters Anglo-
Saxon as well as Oriental in appearance. Whacked Beat was
definitely a far cry from the middle-class culture of a Borders
store or the ersatz yuppie caffeine of Tower Books, and hence
frighteningly alien to Jeffrey.

There was no loud music blaring from the speakers, thankfully, and
Jeffrey's ears were serenaded by the eccentric vocals of Kate Bush
instead. That was Whacked Beat's sole concession to the age of the
man running the store. Jason Nathaniel Behr was twenty-seven last
December, but he looked seventeen or eighteen, his taste in music
notwithstanding.

Jeffrey couldn't miss Jason behind the counter. Every one of his
senses focused on the man the moment he oriented himself to his
environment, the conflagration in his senses reminding him of
every touch, every taste, and more importantly, the way he felt
free and cleansed the next morning. He had paid thousands for
sleep therapy that never worked as good as Jason. Hence, the man
intrigued him, haunted him, and bugged him until he confronted
Jason.

Oh, and he wanted the grant back.

Jason was on the phone even as he placed the comics of a tall,
rangy boy sporting a Mohawk hairstyle and too many earrings into a
paper bag. Money exchanged hands, and the boy left, allowing
Jeffrey to stand before the counter and place his hands on the
table, palms flat open. He saw Jason pale, noticed the stiffening
in the other man's posture as the man finally notice who was
standing before him, but Jason held up a hand, gesturing for -
silence? - even as he continued speaking into the phone.

"No, I'm afraid I can't get you next month's Raiden and Raina
comics, Bri. What do you mean you'll take no for an answer? Didn't
you hear? I'm being kicked out of my shop. That's right, next
month there'll be no more Whacked Beat. Why? Why don't you speak
to the asshole yourself?" With that, Jason offered the phone to
Jeffrey.

Jeffrey raised a questioning brow, and Jason only scowled, daring
him to speak to whoever it was on the phone.

Grinning the bravado he was far from feeling (he was actually
feeling butterflies in his stomach, he didn't know whether to
choke Jason or kiss him hard), Jeffrey didn't remove his eyes from
Jason's as he said a defiant "Yeah?"

Minutes later Jason's grin was wide and malicious as Jeffrey
fought the urge to squirm and disappear into the floor. Finally,
he slammed the phone down. "You didn't tell me Brian Littrell was
a regular," he said.

"He likes his comics, and I import them for him," Jason said
simply.

"I want my grant back."

"This store is mine," Jason said.

"It's never yours," Jeffrey started to say.

He should have known from the way Jason's knuckles tightened into
an alarming shade of pale on the tabletop. "No!" Jason said, half-
yelled actually. "This is my store. I work for it and I made it
the way it is today. What gives you the right to take it away from
me? It's my store, my store -"

"Hold it, hold it," Jeffrey cut in, realizing that three pairs of
startled eyes - browsers in the store - were on them. "Calm down,
Jason, control yourself."

Jason only pointed his finger at Jeffrey and stabbed hard at his
chest. "It is not fair. Not fair."

"Keep saying that and you'll believe it eventually," Jeffrey said,
and at once felt most churlish and cruel when Jason only crumbled
and sat back on his chair. "Look, there's no point in keeping that
grant," he said, kinder now in his pity. He understood defeat and
helplessness, he really did. "I already have documents signed by
Daniel, and the store is now officially sold to some fat happy
Japanese who want to build a shopping mall over this lot. It won't
take much for me to get back that grant. I'll just need to call
the cops and you'll lose."

Jason only looked at the tabletop, unmoving except for the severe
clenching of his fists.

Warning bells rang in Jeffrey's head, as he remembered Daniel's
off-hand remarks about Jason's 'state of mind'. Jeffrey always
thought that Jason had too bright, too beautiful eyes. "Jason? You
okay?" he asked softly.

"It's my store," Jason only said. "It's all I have."

Jeffrey sighed. "I'll buy you a new store," he said. He blinked -
why the fuck would he say that? "I mean - yeah, I'll get you a new
lot and you can restart all over."

"I don't have enough money to pay you back," Jason said. "I never
have enough money."

That Jeffrey could believe.

"I want this store," Jason said stubbornly.

"Give me the grant," Jeffrey countered. "You don't want me to call
the cops. What will your mother say?" The last one was a wild
shot, but to his delight and disappointment, Jason finally
crumbled.

"Mom was right," Jason said in a flat, low voice.

"What's that?" Jeffrey asked despite himself.

"The grant - it's at my place. I'll get it for you. Come to my
place tonight."

He would bring champagne, Jeffrey decided. "Sure, where do you
live?"



"What's this about you buying Jason's shop?" Brian Littrell asked.

He was waiting in Jeffrey's office by the time Jeffrey came back
from Jason's shop. Jeffrey didn't have to ask how the man got in
here. His own secretary would be no match for this man, who sat
calmly at the guest's seat in all fucking arrogance as if he was a
visiting monarch or worse, he owned this office and was about to
kick Jeffrey into the streets. Fucking arrogant prick - if people
hadn't whispered that this man had mob ties, Jeffrey wouldn't be
so polite.

"I acquired his store recently," Jeffrey stated. "It isn't his
shop. Daniel Behr owned it, and he sold it to me six months ago.
Jason was given ample notice that he was to move out of the store
by the end of the month."

"Then where will I get my manga comics?" Brian asked.

How the hell should Jeffrey know? "I have no idea," he told Brian.

"Look, Jason is a bit unusual. A bit strange in the head," Brian
said after a moment's quiet. "His mother always said it was some
twisted way of fate to punish her for abusing booze and drugs
while carrying Jason, but I don't know. That guy is mildly
autistic, lives in own world, and his mental condition has puzzled
quite many psychiatrists. But one thing's for sure, he's fucking
genius when it comes to art. Have you seen his work?"

"I don't know him that well." Only just fucked him, that was all.

"You read Hero?"

That silly gay clone of a GQ magazine? "Not really," Jeffrey
answered, taking his seat. "Look, I'm a busy man. Is there any
point to this, or are you just going to intimidate me?"

"I like Jason. And I will be pissed if he doesn't import me my
staple of manga comics and anime videos. I'll buy the store from
you. How much? I'll double whatever you've been offered."

"Does Jason know about this?" Jeffrey asked, fascinated despite
himself. He was also slowly becoming jealous, he realized. He
wanted to rip this arrogant bastard to pieces.

"He's a nice man. A bit slow, a bit dim at times, but I like him."

"You could easily import those stuff yourself," Jeffrey said. "You
just want to keep him in business. Who is he to you? A lover?"

Brian grinned at Jeffrey most insolently. "No," he answered
simply. "I'm just looking over a fellow lost soul in this city,
Nordling. Jason can use some guardian angel. You see, his mother
was kind to me once, and I will repay my debt to her by watching
over her youngest son. Did Jason mention how he took over the shop
after he flunked high school? We all thought it was crazy, but
that boy actually showed that he could pull it off after he
learned the ropes. Daniel never cared for the shop, but he was
happy enough to take the 60% of the monthly income. He even
promised Jason that he would transfer the shop to Jason when Jason
reached 30 years old."

Jeffrey didn't know what to say. He knew Brian was deliberately
baiting him, manipulating him into feeling sorry for Jason. A part
of him he never knew he had, the heart, actually bled slowly now
that he remembered Jason looking at the floor, unmoving, refusing
to believe his defeat. Or how he walked back and looked though a
window after he'd left, to see Jason burying his face in his arms.
He had hoped Jason wasn't crying then. He hoped he himself
wouldn't weaken now.

It was business, pure and simple. Nothing personal.

Jeffrey closed his eyes and felt wearier than he ever had in his
life. He was forty-two, he felt four hundred years old.

"Life's a bitch," he said in false bravado. "Maybe Jason should
learn that firsthand."

Brian's face showed no emotion as he made to stand up. "Maybe you
should know Jason better before you make pronouncements like
that," he said in lethal quietness.

"I will," Jeffrey said.

"And do be careful, Nordling," Brian said, his hand at the
doorknob. "Don't hurt him anymore than you have already done."



THREE

"Here," Jason said. He placed the grant at Jeffrey's unmoving
palm, and frowned as it fluttered to the floor, ignored by Jeffrey
who was looking at him strangely. His own heart jumped and the
blood in his veins surged in red-hot rush in response. Being the
recipient of too few looks like that in his life, he nonetheless
knew by instinct when a man was looking at him desirously.

And he was nervous. He didn't understand it. He had rented You've
Got Mail as soon as he closed the shop, and as he inked his comic
strip for Hero, he watched and studied and restudied the scene
where Meg Ryan's character easily got duped by Tom Hanks'
character. Vowing never to be as dumb as that bimbo, he had
decided to be strong in the face of his enemy's attractiveness.
Oprah had a guest once on her show, Dr Barbara de Angelis, a
relationship expert who said that good looks weren't everything -
it was the man inside that counted. Jason bought all of Dr de
Angelis' books and studied all her advices.

Now, he reran Dr de Angelis' advice (beauty was deeper than skin)
in his mind again and again in a desperate attempt to gain the
upper hand over his treacherous libido. It was hard, for he had
had so few sexual encounters in his life, none that bore any
meaning, and all ended with his humiliation in the hands of the
careless lover. That memory of being held so close in an embrace
and being wanted - just wanted - by someone who didn't even see
Jason closely to know he was flawed, it was a palpable ache of a
need in his heart. Now that he had a faint idea what that might
feel like, it was even harder and more bitter to face, much less
accept, his loneliness.

Now, Jeffrey only looked at him. Jason looked back, not knowing
what was going on, but content to let the silent drag on.

Finally, Jeffrey spoke. And his voice ached with exhaustion and
weariness, like the rest of him. The poor tired man, Jason's
treacherous heart whispered, a simple act that threatened to break
Jason's defenses.

"Why the fuck did you give your brother 60% of your monthly
income?" he asked, demanded to know actually. "How could you run a
decent business and still be so fucking stupid?"

It was all about the shop. Jason tampered down his bitterness. "I
am paying him for the shop. In installments," he told Jeffrey. "I
would have gotten Whacked Beat when I turn 30. Daniel said so.
Mother said so."

"I'm sorry."

The admission startled both of them really.

"I'm sorry I didn't know how important the shop is to you. I can't
change things, Jason, even if I want to. The shop is sold, and you
will have to move out. I'll help you. I'll find you a new shop,
and you can take your time to pay me back as long as you want."

"Like Danny?"

"No. The shop will be yours to run for as long as you want. I
promise."

Jason shook his head. "No." He realized they were both still
standing at opposite sides of the doorway. "Come on in."



The word No resounded like a cavernous toll in Jeffrey's mind,
obliterating all rational thoughts or focus. All he knew was that
he was losing Jason. The expensive champagne in his hand felt like
a mockery of his hopes, hopes he didn't know he was holding out on
his sleeves until now. He hated this feeling of his heart bleeding
as many, many jagged pieces of hurt pierce its core, and he hated
this weakness of his with all his ability to hate.

He picked up the grant from the floor, hating that piece of paper
virulently. It was all he could do not to tear it to pieces. His
mind did a quick calculation - what a breach of contract would
cost him and his company, and how he would meet that. His rational
self was screaming that he was throwing away his reputation as
well as a large chunk of his bank account on this crazy whim.

A whim? Anything, Jeffrey told himself harshly, anything to even
flirt with the possibility of no more sleepless nights and - bliss
- no more fear of shadows.

"I'll give you your shop," he said. "What will you do to get it
back? For real. I'll even transfer it to your name."

"Anything," Jason said, looking uneasy, as if he sensed Jeffrey
snaking in for the kill.

"Good. I want exclusive use of your body, and in return, I'll give
you your precious Whacked Beat."




FOUR

Jason Behr never thought himself a James Bond type. Not in this
way at least. As he studied himself in the mirror, he wondered
what Jeffrey saw in him that made the man demand that Jason whore
himself for Whacked Beat. Even more puzzling, what was it with
Jason that made Jeffrey happily court lawsuit and lose almost a
billion bucks in deal - that was what Fortune reported - by
burning the agreement he made with Danny?

Danny wasn't happy and was threatening to sue, that was, when he
got his own act together first (good luck, Danny). Jeffrey's
shareholders weren't happy, and there were talks of Jeffrey
stepping down from his position.

The sheer lunacy of what Jeffrey was doing staggered Jason. He
eyed himself critically, and saw, as usual, a sullen-looking, pale
boyish man who still faced problems when he tried to watch an NC-
17 movie at a movie theatre. A man who could be called handsome,
but the four guys he had slept with, not counting Jeffrey, in all
his life all lost interest soon after because they couldn't
understand him. He couldn't understand them either, but it was
they who always did the walking out.

No one had done what Jeffrey did for him, and Jason didn't know
whether to be flattered or shocked at such lousy business
decision. Still, the whole event made the whole whoring thing
palatable, even romantic really, and Jason found himself looking
forward to having Jeffrey for a while and Whacked Beat permanently
ever after. He liked the idea of sleeping with Jeffrey, and it was
time he kick back and enjoy some wild sex.

He adjusted his bow - it was one of those easy-stick bow ties -
and sniffed himself discreetly. Jeffrey asked him to put on this
cologne, which the man said was his favorite, and Jason thought it
was pretty nice too. Not too heavy or sickeningly fragrant - just
right and masculine smelling too, if there was such a thing.
Jeffrey was taking him out to dinner at some posh restaurant, and
Jason couldn't wait.



Jeffrey Nordling handed his resignation to the CEO personally and
looked forward to a life of bankruptcy. His only regret was to cut
short his admittedly immoderate lifestyle, regret because he'd
like Jason to experience those luxuries he'd squandered
thoughtlessly before with him now. Last night, he thought he
dreamed of Jason looking at him in approval and admiration as
Jeffrey took him to places he had never been and they did things
Jason could only watch on TV or read about.

Alas, he wouldn't be able to afford this sort of dinner for long,
he thought. And his regret wasn't for himself, but Jason.

They had a wonderful dinner. Jason didn't stop talking about (a)
the craters of the moon, (b) how wonderful the new arcade beat-'em-
up King of Fighters was, (c) the possibility of time travel
according to Einstein's theory of relativity, and other strange,
bizarre tangents Jeffrey couldn't keep track of. And as dinner
progressed, Jason spilled wine, caused peas to spill all over the
table, used the largest spoon for ice cream, and announced that
he'd prefer their next date be at Burger King.

He also watched, not knowing what to think, as Jason slipped a
saltcellar into his jacket pocket, all the while talking as if his
hand had a life of its own.

He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard. He even
found himself contributing to Jason's inane chatters, drawing on
his own fantasy and science fiction novel addiction to theorize
various ways time travel and teleportation could be made possible.

Now, as they walked to the car park where Jeff's car was waiting,
Jason was walking way ahead of Jeffrey in that fast pace Jeffrey
was fast getting used to. He had his hands spread wide like Goofy
emulating Jesus, and he turned to look at Jeff, a laugh from his
lips escaping freely.

"I had a great time, you know. I mean, I'm supposed to be your
dumb, silent sex toy, but I really am enjoying myself. No one has
ever listened to me babble so long before," Jason said in
infectious exuberance. "Do you like Kate Bush?"

"Not really," Jeffrey answered, charmed.

"How about Roxy Music?"

"Not after Brian Eno left."

"I thought they got better after Eno left. Like Avalon. You know."

"Over-melodramatic sap," Jeffrey said.

"Rubbish!" Jason turned, his arms still spread open, and laughed
again. "See? There's a full moon. Surprise I can see it -- New
York air sucks." Jason closed his eyes and started to sing. "Some
expression in your eyes/Overtook me by surprise/Where was I how
was I to know?/How can we drive to a movie show/When the music is
here in my car."

Recognizing the song, Jeffrey continued with his awful tenor,
"There's a band playing on the radio/With a rhythm of rhyming
guitars/They playing Oh Yeah on the radio/And so came to be our
song."

"Oh yeah!" Jason hollered in worse off-key echo to Jeffrey's
unforgivable massacre of the Roxy Music song.

"You're a nutcase, you know that? Jason Nathaniel Behr, you are a
fucking lunatic!" But Jeffrey only lifted that man off his feet in
his arms and swung the laughing man crazily until all strength
left his feet and they crumpled painfully to the ground. And he
silenced Jason's laughter with his kiss.



Jeffrey looked at the shadows, daring the hallucinations to show
up. The demons, the unseen ghosts that tormented his nights, all
the ghouls and demons that plagued him since he was a child, yet
to be exorcised even after countless therapies, tonight they
stayed in the shadows. Jeffrey knew they were waiting to pounce,
always, but tonight, as he snuggled closer to Jason's naked body
beside his, they kept far away.

And Jeffrey could close his eyes without reservations or fear.
Jason was here, and the ghosts stayed away. He could sleep,
Jeffrey realized, and he did.

He awoke with a cry, bathed in sweat, what seemed seconds later. A
murmur from Jason told Jeffrey that he had awakened the man as
well. "What is it?" he heard Jason murmur.

"A nightmare," Jeffrey lied. It was something dark and terrifying,
cavernously hollow in its depths that threatened to suck Jeffrey
in. Once, when he was a child, he thought he was going mad. Worst
was he never able to remember what it was that haunted him. Night
terror, he was diagnosed, and his father suffered from it too. The
latter shot himself one day, unable to take it any longer. Jeffrey
had fought the breaking point for so long, it was slowly wearing
him down. One day he would lose it too, and that scared him more
than anything.

"Nightmare?" Jason was fully awake now, judging from the excited
curiosity in his voice. He lifted his head and rested his chin on
Jeff's chest, the feel of his chin on Jeff strangely tender and
sensual to the latter. "What is it? A big monster?"

"Something dark and evil. I think it wants me dead," Jeff said.
"It claimed my father."

"Ah. There's a story in here somewhere. I think I have read about
this before in some magazine while I was waiting at the dentist.
Night terror, they call it. I think it's all about people scared
of sleeping, yes? A phobia about being helpless in darkness or
something like that."

"Uh, yeah," Jeffrey said, unable to tear his eyes away from
Jason's animated face. So beautiful, so at home in the shadows
Jeffrey feared so much. And the demons in Jeffrey's mind shrunk
away from Jason's presence, allowing him to focus on this man who
could be his salvation.

"So, is the monster big?"

"Very big."

"Fat?"

"Probably."

"Looks like Garfield the cat?"

Jeffrey burst into laughter. He couldn't help it, and he didn't
know why he found himself laughing. And despite the shadows, he
felt as if he and Jason were dancing in sunlight.

"I like it when you laugh," Jason said softly.

"I like it too," Jeff said, and ran his finger across Jason's kiss-
swollen lips. "I like you. I like the way you make me laugh. Hush,
don't speak. Let me." And he kissed Jason slowly, letting his lips
graze lightly across the other man's lips. He felt Jason climbed
over him, and he fell back, lifting only his head to deepen the
kiss. As his hands moved along Jason's side, caressing every inch
of that lovely, supple body, he spread his thighs and lifted his
lower body even as Jason settled between him.

Then Jason's cock was pushing his flesh apart, the pain of
penetration as well as the pleasure of it driving all thoughts of
demons and ghosts from Jeffrey's mind. "Yes!" Jeffrey could only
cry out in agonized ecstasy, and then it was Jason hard banging
him all the way, and he could only hold on, gripping the man's
buttocks hard, urging him on.

"I like this," Jason whispered later as he lay with his back
pressed against Jeffrey's front, warm in Jeffrey's embrace.

"So do I," Jeffrey said.

"If you have nightmares, let me know. I don't think you want to
face them alone," Jason said softly as sleep took him. He sighed
and pressed himself closer, his body heat warming Jeffrey when
nothing could. "I always wanted to be a hero, you know. Like James
Bond."

"You're doing a good job. I could use some rescuing," Jeffrey said
absently, breathing the scent of Jason, sex, and closing his eyes
in trepidation. They waited in the shadows, but the ghosts didn't
come closer.

And Jeffrey slept at last.



"I'm still mad at you for telling my mother," Jason told his
friend James Marsden. He studied the pack of jellybeans,
discovered that they contained the purple jellybeans he liked a
lot, and added six packs into his shopping cart. He looked at his
friend. "It's not nice you rat on me."

"Oh come on, it's a crazy plan. You're lucky he didn't send you to
the cops. Instead he just force you to become his - what do you
call a male mistress anyway?" James, a boyish man who, unlike
Jason, was brighter and sunnier in his mien, said.

"He and I are just dating. Until the two months are up and he'll
give me back my shop." Jason smiled at the giant bag of M&M's he
was holding. "Then the shop will be mine. Really, really mine."

At last, he would have something he could hold on to. It felt
good, but he had a feeling no one would understand it if he said
that it was okay he was sleeping with Jeffrey for the shop. He
really wanted to do it, and even if he was forced to it, he
enjoyed it, so he was okay with it. With that convoluted logic and
self-justification to ease his mind, he concentrated on shopping.

James sighed and pulled a bag of Skitters out of Jason's pocket.
Jason didn't even know he had pocketed that thing. For a moment,
he started to panic - for Jeffrey, he wanted to be like everyone
else, and he didn't want to be like this, sometimes stealing
things even when he had told himself he didn't want to and never
would again - and he had to take a deep breath and thought of the
shop. And Jeffrey's visit tonight, which he promised Jason three
days ago.

"You sure you can trust his word?" James asked.

"Yes," Jason answered. He never even considered otherwise.

"Bastard! I want my gun back!" Jeremy Northam said, crashing his
cart into Jason's from around the corner. "That gun cost me three
hundred bucks, authentic clone of the real thing, and there's only
four more like it in the whole fucking world. Where the hell is
it?"

"Uh." Remembering the water pistol he used on Jeffrey, he tried to
remember where he put it. "I think it's still under Jeffrey's
bed."

"Get it back. I want it back," Jeremy said. "Or I'll tell Al about
that - you know - thing you stole from him."

"Oh Jason, you should stop stealing. Ever consider seeing a
shrink?" James said.

"Yeah, go see a shrink," Jeremy chimed in testily.

Jason fought down the rising scream in his chest. "I think I have
to go," he said as best as he could. His knees were shaky, and he
felt as if the walls were closing in on him. "Excuse me."

Jeremy was moving his cart too slow out of the way.

"EXCUSE ME!" Jason screamed then, closing his eyes. "MOVE!"

Jeremy jumped, and stared as Jason pushed his cart in dangerous
breakneck speed past him. A wheel crushed painfully over his right
foot, but thankfully his shoe was thick leather.

"What did I say?" Jeremy asked, looking at James.

James looked after his strange friend sadly.



"What's the matter? You're pretty quiet." Jeffrey sat up and
buried his nose in the gentle curve of Jason's shoulder. "I didn't
please you, did I?" When Jason remained silent, the man's knees
brought up to his chin, Jeffrey tried to kiss the man's neck.
Jason only flinched. "Okay, I'll get myself a box of Viagra
tomorrow," Jeffrey said.

Jason didn't laugh. He just looked far ahead.

Don't let me lose him. The way his body tensed and the way the
cold seized hold of his senses startled him, and mentally he did a
swift calculation: he still had twenty days with Jason.

"I don't know how to stop stealing," Jason said finally.

Jeffrey couldn't bear hearing that flat monotone so low, so
defeated. "I'll let you know when you're stealing, and we'll put
it back," he said carefully.

"Why can't I be normal?" Jason half-sighed, half-sobbed. "Maybe my
mother is right. I'm not cut out to be like everyone else, and I
should just go back to Maine and live with her and Uncle Fred.
He's her boyfriend by the way. Nice man. Where was I?"

"You being normal."

"Yes. Why can't I be like normal? Like. like James?"

Jeffrey had no idea who James was. "You can't be normal, Jason.
You're a special guy. No, I mean it in a good way. I mean, you
draw." He gestured at the scattered canvases littering the bedroom
table, chair, and floor, where Jason worked on his comic strip for
Hero. "You're a brilliant cartoonist, you have all these great
stories to tell - you know what I think? I think you're an artist,
not someone normal and boring like me and James."

"You think so?" Jason's voice was hopeful, desperately so. How
could a man so easy to seduce and convince be also so reluctant to
believe the best in himself?

"Yeah."

Jason placed his chin on his knees and looked far, far away,
silent and his lips in a sullen pout. Jeffrey looked at the mirror
across the room, and saw Jason looking back at him through the
mirror. Jason in the dark unlit room, caressed by shadows, an
ethereal sight, one that made Jeffrey wonder if he would ever be
the same again, now that he had seen the most beautiful sight in
the world.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jeffrey repeated his answer.

"You're just saying it because you want a piece of my ass."

"Yeah, and also because I really, really think you're one hell of
a guy. I've never met anyone like you, and you're funny too."
Jeffrey ran his hand along Jason's arms.

"You don't think me buying all those junk food strange?"

Actually, no. "No," Jeffrey said. "You can be strange sometimes,
true, but give me a minute and I'll see method in your
strangeness, trust me."

Jason closed his eyes and let Jeffrey played his body, only
fluttering his eyelids slightly when Jeffrey's mouth found his
penis, and even at his climax, he didn't make a sound. It pretty
ruined Jeffrey's mood.



FIVE

Days passed, and Jeffrey hated those days. Something changed;
Jason was cold and distant, and there was nothing he could do to
get the old Jason back. Jason was agreeable and cordial, but he
was trying so hard to be normal he didn't say funny things like
Jeffrey liked him to. Their lovemaking was polite, reserved, until
Jeffrey thought he would go mad. He bought sex books and practiced
everything, and Jason showed all signs of pleasure, but he never
gave all of himself to Jeffrey like he used to.

One morning, as he was preparing lunch to take over to Whacked
Beat - he might as well be living at Jason's place, since he spent
so much time there, and he found himself doing Jason's housework
to pass the time - he had a visitor.

It was pretty disconcerting to find Ben Affleck, one of the most
powerful figures in corporate America, standing at the doorway.

Oh, it was nothing - Jeffrey had been visited by several friends
of Jason who wanted to make sure that he hadn't killed Jason and
tossed the man's body in a garbage bag or something. There was the
scary Kevin fellow downstairs who warned him that Jeffrey would be
eating his own testicles if Jason showed any hint of emotional
injury. Probably if Brian didn't get him first, and even then,
Kevin would have to jostle for the privilege with a Jeremy guy who
came to warn Jeffrey off. Protective nannies, that was what they
were, but Jeffrey found it hard to be pissed at them. He now
understood how Jason got this far without crashing and burning
beyond repair, and he was grateful to them.

But he was pissed that no one considered that Jason might as well
be the one to hurt Jeffrey instead of the other way around. It
didn't take long for Jeffrey to realize that people had severely
underestimated Jason. Sure, that guy sometimes carried out crazed
plans of whimsy, like that insane breaking into Jeffrey's place,
but that was because these people indulged Jason shamelessly.
Jason was smart, and if that guy took a while to reach there, he
would reach there eventually.

Jason actually successfully ran a business and negotiated himself
a book deal with Andrews McMeel Publishing, who would be
publishing his comic strips in book form. (Actually, Jeffrey heard
that Jason in his usual bulldog tenacity hunted down Bill
Watterson, told the guy he was a big fan of Calvin and Hobbes and
how Watterson inspired Jason to draw, and passed some of his work
'accidentally' into Watterson's art case. Watterson called his
publisher and Jason found himself an ardent supporter and fan soon
after.) If one studied closely, what Jason wanted, he got in the
end. The man was sneaky and manipulative.

Yet here Kevin, Jeremy, Brian, and God knew who else thought Jason
a happy, cute lil' boy. Get real. They had no idea who they were
dealing with.

"Not you too," Jeffrey said aloud.

"No," Ben said, correctly reading Jeffrey's expression. "I'm not
here to talk about Behr. I think he's actually Machiavelli in
disguise. I still have no idea how he talked me into lending him
my Jaguar last year and then let him talk me into forgiving him
when he crashed it beyond repair. Funny thing is, I knew he
couldn't drive when I handed him my car keys. I think he's not as
stupid or harmless as everyone says he is, and I say it's good for
you for keeping that pest out of our way. Now, I'm here to talk
about you."

He opened his briefcase and passed a file to Jeffrey. "Read it -
you have twenty minutes - and tell me what you will do if you were
the one in charge of it."

Jeffrey told him in ten.

"Good. They are right about you. I am offering you this job. If
you pull off this one, you will have a more permanent position
with me. Think about it. My offer of your salary, incentives,
perks, et cetera is in that folder. If you want the job, fax me
your resume and whatever the hell you usually send employers-to-be
by the end of this week. Good day."

"Wait a minute!" Jeffrey looked at the crazy man. "You want to
hire me?"

"Yeah. After you break up with Behr, by the way, which I
understand is today? What you did, almost bankrupting yourself, is
really stupid, but when Behr is involved, people do stupid things
like lending him their brand new luxury cars, so I understand
completely. When he's out of your life, I trust you'll be your old
self again, which is what I need in my company. Any more
questions?"

"No," Jeffrey said simply to the back of the man.



"I want my grant," Jason said, walking in the door that evening.

"This is the last day we have together and all you can ask if your
fucking shop?" Jeffrey couldn't help but to yell.

Jason flinched but stood his ground. "You want to watch TV first?"

Jeffrey raised the fucking piece of paper and watched as Jason
made a grab for it. Refusing to feel churlish, he lifted it out of
the man's reach. When Jason made a wounded sound, he sneered.
"What? You want your fucking precious shop? Damn it, how about me?
You going to throw me out like that?"

"Give me my grant!"

Jeffrey deliberately crumpled the paper.

Jason screamed, falling back and his hands flying over his ears as
he closed his eyes and screamed. "No! It's my store. My store. You
promised," he kept saying as he trembled.

"Get a fucking grip on yourself. You want to be normal, be normal.
Straighten up and stop sniveling like a baby," Jeffrey said
roughly. "Fuck it, look at me."

"My store. My store." Jason gave a wild wail when Jeffrey tried to
hold the man's hand.

He had gone mad. Reality struck hard, "Shit, what am I doing?"
Jeffrey cursed, dropping the grant and looked at the shaken man
before him in horror. "What am I turning into?"

He sat down, seeing the ghost of his crazed father, unable to be
calmed or placated by anyone, and saw Jason, on his knees and
trying to smoothened the grant, looking through fear-filled, teary
eyes at Jeffrey as he slowly retreated away. What had he done?
Jeffrey asked himself again. A cruel bastard, an unforgivable
bastard who seduced this boy and now hurt that boy out of petty
malice.

"I'm sorry, Jason," he said brokenly, and flinched when Jason
cowered, holding the paper close to his chest with both his arms
protectively at the sound of Jeffrey's voice. "I'll never hurt
you, you know that, don't you?"

Jason only stared at him in blankly.

Jeffrey closed his eyes, welcoming the pain and cold this time -
he deserved it. "I'll go," he said finally. "Goodbye Jason."

Jason didn't look up when Jeffrey walked out.



SIX

Jason frowned and rewound the scene where Jack and Lucy walked and
talked into the night. While You Were Sleeping was his favorite
romantic movie, much better than You've Got Mail, and he thought
this movie was just perfect. He watched and repeated in his mind
every loving line those two exchanged.

He was reminded of how he and Jeffrey talked.

He looked at the pile of videos at his side. All the romantic
movies he loved were there, and he had watched every one until his
eyes hurt, trying to figure out why he still felt the strange
feelings he felt whenever he thought of Jeffrey. He had an idea
after watching Jack proposed to Lucy at the tollbooth for the
sixty-fifth time, but he wasn't fully sure.

He missed Jeffrey. Jeffrey was nice, kind, and he more or less
understood Jason, and if he didn't, he was patient with him. He
was just like Jack in the movie - funny, nice, and kind. Only
Jeffrey didn't want to give Jason back his store. Jason paused the
TV looked at Lucy's smiling face critically. He could never be
like those smiling stars - he probably would say something stupid
or accidentally steal his love interest's money.

The phone rang, and absently he reached for it.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi. It's me."

"Jeffrey." Jason straightened up.

"I just thought I'd let you know Kevin bruised my right eye and
Brian my left. Jeremy almost make me lost my two front teeth, and
your friend James - nice lad, by the way - told me he'd better not
see me walking before his car or he will run me down."

"I'll tell them to stop." Jason wasn't actually listening to
Jeffrey's words, only his voice. His place was too silent the two
days after Jeffrey moved out. "Jeffrey? Why did you try to take my
shop away from me?"

"I'm not. I was just mad that it was our last day together and
instead of feeling as miserable as I was, all you cared about was
your fucking bookstore. It was cruel of me, I'm sorry. I really am
very sorry."

"I really love my store. It's the only thing I have that all's
mine, and - sometimes I say things in ways that seem wrong to
people." Jason didn't know why he wanted to explain this. Jeffrey
was supposed to be the bad guy here. right? "Nobody understands
me."

"I can try."

Jason's heart beat triple time and his day seemed brighter at
those words.

"Jeffrey?"

"I missed you, Jason. Look, the store's not the only thing that's
all yours, buddy."

The room blurred. No, it was those tears in his eyes. Jason
reached for a handkerchief from his pocket. "Jeffrey, I miss you
too," he said. "I heard you got a job with Ben."

"Yeah."

"He's a scary guy. Not as scary as James' boyfriend Hugh, but -
look, my battery's running out. Can you drop by my place and tell
me all about it instead?"

"You don't have a cell phone."

"Oh."

He could picture Jeffrey's smile. "You are a lousy liar, Jason,"
Jeffrey said gently. "See you in twenty minutes."

Jason looked at Lucy and Jack kissing on the TV and smiled. "I
can't wait," he replied in all honesty.
