THE STORY OF US BY: Julien
This story is 100% fictional and is by no means depictive of the life of any person, place or thing. It contains sexual activities between males and should only be read if it is legal to do so in your area. Read at your own risk and enjoy. Comments are welcomed and would be very much appreciated. ENJOY!
"What the fuck is his problem?"
I looked over at Greg trying to keep my anger in check.
"I'm not paying him one goddamn cent. Not one. I've worked too fucking hard to be giving away my shit like that." And that was that. I wouldn't allow myself to fucked over by a twerp like Ernie.
"Hold up guys, hold up. The way I see this, he has absolutely no legal basis to his claim so we shouldn't have a problem." Stated Laurence
Greg turned to him, "No trust me Laurence, I've worked with Ernie for five years and I know him well enough, he has some...some shit up his sleeve. He's not one to make empty promises."
And as they both talked in hushed tones, I made it a point of duty not to look over at either of them. I knew that Ernie would be hell bent on making my life a living hell if I didn't fork over money but if I did, there would be questions, too many questions from Laurence, Greg and the media and that, I couldn't allow.
Noticing my now quiet demeanor, Laurence spoke up. "Bobby do you know of any reason why he would be doing this."
"Because I canned his ass- that's why!" I said a little too defensively.
"I know that but if that were the case, why not just go straight to court?" He continued.
"Because Ernie knows the way to get to me is to fuck with my head. He knows me and the media got no love for each other. He knows I'm gonna try and keep my shit out of the spotlight. He knows I'm gonna take the easiest way out." I hoped that would answer any question that he might have had and would take the heat off of the truth.
"Well, it's your call man. It's your music, your life but I gotta be real with you and say that you should go to the cops. It's extortion man." Greg stated running his hands over his head.
"And you?" I asked looking over at Laurence.
"I gotta agree Bobby. You give him money now, who's to say he won't come back again and again and again. This shit could go on for years and god forbid the media got wind of it. They'd have a field day with all the speculations. It's just too risky."
He had a point, they both did but this had become more than just about money, this was my livelihood, my life. If I didn't sing, I didn't have shit, I wouldn't have shit. This was all I knew.
"Fellas I understand where you both are coming from and I feel you but I gotta handle this shit by myself."
"Bobby I don't think that's such a..." I held up my hand to stop him. "No Laurence, I got it covered. If he wants to fuck with me, let him fuck with me but I'm not gonna let him fuck with y'all too. The only reason why he's getting you guys involved is because he thinks you'll put pressure on me to give up my loot. He thinks that I'm an easy target but I ain't and I'm not gonna make this into a bigger issue than it has to be."
And even though neither agreed with me, they vowed to stand behind me no matter what, Greg had my back for the emotional and Laurence the financial.
"Well if you're gonna deal with this by yourself, I think we need to get the key players up here as soon as possible." I gave him a quizzical look.
"We need to get a couple of entertainment lawyers on hand, somebody you'd feel comfortable with, someone we could trust. Then I'm gonna get the heads of management in here to discuss the what ifs, just in case. And of course we're gonna need your boy in here as soon as possible."
And it was as if my heart stopped. "What does he have to do with anything?"
"Well he is your publicist and it's only right that he knows what could go down. We need to have the PR ready just in case the shit hits the fan. I know Richie can handle it." I just continued to shake my head as he spoke.
"What's the problem Bobby?" Asked Laurence.
"I don't want Richie involved in this shit."
"We can't hide it from him. He's your publicist."
"Not anymore."
"What you mean not anymore?"
"He quit."
"When?"
"He told me he needed a break ok and I said fine. He don't need to be knowing about this. Not so soon after the accident."
"Bobby it's been a month..."
"And it's my money paying his salary and I say I don't want him involved." I said raising my voice a notch.
Laurence held up his hands defensively and spoke, "Fine, if you want a new publicist, you got it but I still think Richie needs to be informed so if Ernie contacts him..."
"I already talked to him about that. If Ernie contacts him, he'll tell me."
"Ok."
"So are we done?" I asked getting up.
"Yeah, we're done...for now but I want you to rethink your stance on Ernie."
"Just let me deal with this Laurence, please. Have I ever made a bad move?"
Greg smiled and began to raise his hand,
"Besides firing the best manager I ever had." I SAID
They both broke out in laughter and shook their heads. "Well let me deal with this one on my own. If I get stuck, I'll tell you."
Laurence sighed, "Ok Bobby but if you think you might be in trouble..."
"I'll give you a call." I walked up to him and shook his hand. "Thanks man." He nodded his head. I then walked up to Greg and grabbed him into a bear hug, "Thanks man."
"Anytime my boy, anytime."
Even though I had my back to the bar I could sense that eyes were on me. I wouldn't be as vain as to say all eyes were on me but I knew for sure that I was being watched.
"Mike you need another round." I held up my almost empty glass to the bar tender and slammed it down on the counter.
"Take it easy man. Those mugs don't come cheap. Long time don't see, who you been shacking up with these days."
"Not a damn soul."
"What happened to the good-looking black haired guy you were in here with last weekend." He said while pouring me another scotch.
"Finished, gone, done with, moving on. You know me, gotta have em all." I snickered with a slur and I knew it was time for me to get going. "Call me a cab will ya." I said making an attempt to get off of the stool, only to find myself slowly slipping unto the ground. I felt a pair of hands encircle my waist and I tried to pull away.
"Get your fucking hands off me!" I cried pushing whoever it was off of me.
"Hey! I was just trying to help ya, ya ungrateful piece of shit." The voice replied letting go off me, sending my body hard into the ground. I felt it and it hurt like a mutha. Before I could even think about it, I was up and charging whoever it was that let me go and caught him at the midsection.
"You son of a bitchhhhhhhhh." He cried all the time pounding the back of my head with his fists. And what started out as a simple stander by helping out a drunk ass like myself turned into a brawl that had to get the cops involved. And by the time it was over. I had had a bottle broken over my head, a sore neck and bruised and sprained ligatures.
"Who started this?" The cop asked me. And even though I was in the worst of predicaments, that didn't stop me from noticing how good looking this cop was.
"We don't want no problems officer. It was just a brawl that got out of hand, as simple as that." Replied the bartender.
"I wasn't asking you. I'm asking him." He looked over at me, a scowl etched unto his other wise handsome face and all of a sudden he become less appealing to me.
"It was a mistake. I thought he was attacking me." I stated.
He stood up and went across the room where the other man sat. They talked for a few minutes then the cop walked over to me.
"Ok, he confirms your story so we're gonna let this drop but don't let it happen again. Don't drink if you can't handle it."
"Fine." I tried to get up only to fall back down again.
"Easy now. I think you should go the hospital and get stitches for that cut on your head."
I ran my hand across it, "Nah, it's more blood than guts, I'll be fine."
The cop shook his head, "I don't think so."
"It's not that bad man." And even though it hurt like hell, I just wanted to get the hell out of here and go home.
"Better safe than sorry buddy. Get your coat and lets go. We'll drop you off on the way back to the precinct." And that was the end of that. With me residing in the backseat like some criminal, we drove to the nearest hospital: County Memorial Hospital (CMH).
The waiting room was packed and I was about to throw a bitch fit.
"Shit! I told you I didn't want to come here." The officer that had insisted I come turned to look at me, "Calm down buddy."
Calm down my ass! It was easy for him to stand there and tell me to calm down. I was wet, I was cold, I was tired, I was hungry and I could feel the onset of a headache coming on.
"I just want to go home ok officer." He turned to look at me again and shook his head.
"Wait here."
'Great', I thought 'I'm here freezing my ass off while he goes in search of whatever.' And I promised myself that I was never going drinking when I was this fucked up ever again.
I noticed the officer was motioning me from across the room to come with him so I followed. He led me into an elevator, up to the second floor and into an examination room.
"I'll be downstairs." Was all he said before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
I rolled my eyes and crossed my hands over my chest. I hated hospitals, especially this one.
With my back to the door, I didn't hear it open or know who came in until I heard the voice, that voice "ok, lets see what we have here." I quickly turned around and realizing who it was quickly attached a scowl to my face. He looked up at me and mimicked my initial reaction.
He walked up to me and took a look at the cut on my forehead. He picked up a pair of gloves that lay beside me, put them on his hands and then instructed me to lie down on the table.
"I'm fine." I protested refusing to put myself in that vulnerable position.
"It's deep and I need to do a thorough examination Michael." There was so much venom in his voice, something that I hadn't expected.
"Fine." I said, resigned to the fact that I was going to be poked and prodded whether I liked it or not. And as his hands gently used the washcloth to wipe away the blood, I couldn't help but look up into his face. His jaw was tense and his breathing was heavy. I had to close my eyes to make it all go away.
"You have some glass protruding out of your forehead so I'm gonna use a tweezer laced with hydrogen peroxide to get it out" and as an after thought he added, "It's gonna hurt." Instinctively I tensed up and shut my eyes tightly, after all, I was never one that liked pain, whether or not it was mixed with pleasure.
"Just make it quick." I managed to get out through clenched teeth. I didn't even realize I was shaking tell I felt his hand on mine and his voice telling me to calm down.
"Fucking easy for you to say." I snared trying my best to keep as rigid as possible.
"Michael if you keep on moving I might slip." I opened my eyes and bolted right up. "I can't do this." I said.
"Yes you can. You just need to stay calm."
I shook my head. All this time, his hand still rested on mine and as I realized that fact, I let my hand slip from under it.
"Don't let me strap you to a gurney Michael. Lay back and let me fucking do my job." I was shocked into speechlessness at his tone of voice.
"Fine, do what the hell you have to do."
"Good. Just try and relax and I will try and make it as painless as possible." And as I laid there waiting for that first prick, I thought about how ironic the fact was that this man had the opportunity to hurt me but instead chose to try and talk me down. And it was then I began to feel guilty.
"There, that wasn't so bad was it?" I opened my eyes and was surprised to see that he was no longer standing over me but instead was writing on his little silver chart.
"You're done?" I asked.
"Yes. All I need to do now is put in stitches." I tensed up again.
"Stop being a baby Michael, it will feel like a bee sting."
"I hate bees."
"Fine, an ant bite then. Either way you think of it, it has to be done."
The thoughts of a needle and thread coursing in and out of my skin had me shuddering and as I saw Adam look up at me again, his expression blank, I turned away. I could do this. How many tricks have I had to fight off because they couldn't grasp the concept of no? Thinking back to the olden days, how many times had I taken shit from my father - physically and mentally? Enough times that this should have been a piece of cake.
"You never had stitches before?" His voice broke me out of thought and I turned my attention back to the task at hand.
"I wasn't a very active child." He seemed shock by that revelation but quickly masked it leaving his facial expression as emotionless as before.
"Well I have and it's not as bad as you're making it out to be." And before I could counter that comment, he had jabbed me and started to work.
I reached up to feel it but my hand was quickly swatted away.
"Don't touch it. I don't want it coming loose before it's time to take it out."
"Fine." I found myself responding to his touch and quickly averted my thoughts from anything sexual.
No more words were exchanged after that. He sat at a metal table across the room and jotted down notes on his pad leaving me to my thoughts.
"Michael. Michael. MICHAEL!"
"What!" I looked up and noticed that he was standing directly in front of me and all of a sudden I found myself feeling light headed. This wasn't right! This wasn't me!
"Here." He handed me a prescription, "this is a sedative that will help you sleep tonight, when the pain kicks in."
"What, no pain killers?"
"No can do. I'd rather you keep up on sleep than keep up on the pain." And once again I felt a guilty pang resound throughout my body. Here he was, still considering my feelings despite everything.
Once again, all things went quiet, again. He was looking at me so tenderly, like he had that night he told me he loved me and that was something I couldn't allow. I zipped up my coat, hopped of the table and made a move to slip around him but apparently sensing my move, he blocked it with his hands trapping me between himself and the examination table.
"Adam." I started and stopped. My throat felt dry and I found myself craving for anything wet.
"Let me get you something for your lip and your eye." I could see in his eyes the guilt and I swore to myself that I wouldn't walk out of here letting him feel guilty for what he had done. I had deserved it and I as strange as it may have sounded, I wanted it.
"It's ok. I don't even feel it anymore."
He stopped riffling through the cabinet and turned to me, "Stop that will you."
"What."
"You know what."
"I wouldn't fucking ask if I knew what." I could feel that anger rise up in me but tried to suppress it.
"You don't have to curse me." He whispered.
"I'm sorry. I should just go, that cop must be still out there waiting for me."
"He's not."
"How'd you know?"
"Because I know Chris."
"Ex?" I asked surprised at the animosity present in my voice, I actually sounded like a jealous husband or something.
He caught unto it quickly and I wry smile escaped his lips only for a second or two, "cousin. The only family I got left except for the mother that you didn't want to meet."
"I never said I didn't want to meet her." I quickly added.
"Well it doesn't matter anymore does it. You can take your prescription to the pharmacy, first floor on the left." With that he turned around and walked out before I could say anything else distinguishing any hope I had left that we both could have come out of this unscathed.
I was not even halfway in the door when Richie started screaming at me.
"Where the fuck have you been?" He paused, took in my current condition and grabbed my arm, "are you ok?"
Pulling away from him I nodded my head.
"What! You can't answer me. You leave here without saying a word to me and then walk in at," he looked at the over head clock, "4:30 in the morning looking like shit and all you do is nod!"
"Jesus man, you're beginning to sound like my mother." I wasn't in the mood to deal with this mommy dearest routine right now so I pushed passed him and went into my room closing the door behind me.
I fell head first unto my bed and within minutes I was out like a light.
While he was out, floundering with unsavory characters and drunks alike I received a surprising phone call from non other than Adam.
"Michael's not here right now." And even though I tried to sound upset with him, I couldn't be, for deep in my heart, I felt Michael deserved what he got.
"Oh. Well I guess now is a good time as any for us to talk."
"About what?"
The line went quiet for a while, "about why I felt so threatened by you, even now, even after everything."
And I asked him, "did you really tell Michael that you loved him?"
"Yes I did, and I meant it, I still mean it."
"I'm sorry. For anything you thought I might have said or done that led up to this. I don't want Michael, I never did and no matter what you think, he doesn't want me either."
"I know that. He was very upfront about your relationship with him. I just had to see it as more, you know."
I laughed, "You didn't strike me as the insecure type."
I could hear him chuckle in the background, "neither did you." I decided to shy away from that comment and move on. "Don't feel like it was anything you said or did."
"He gave me the speech already."
"Well you didn't get it from me. Believe it or not, I went through the same thing with him years ago, when we used to date. It hurt me when he broke it off but eventually, I got over it, you will too."
He sighed and I imagined him deep in thought, his mind reliving happier times with Michael. I knew that was what I had done when our relationship had dissolved into nothing.
"I didn't mean to put my hands on him, I'm not, I'm not that type of person. I don't like physical violence and I don't condone it but I just lost it, you know. When he said the things he did, I just fucking lost it. I felt so used, so disrespected and I know he's not like that. The Michael I fell in love with is not like that."
"No he's not. If it makes any difference, I just think everything with you was making his head spin. Everything was coming in too fast, too strong."
"We could have dealt with it, whatever it was he was feeling."
"Michael hates to feel out of control. It's like the kiss of death with him. If anybody even comes close to getting underneath his skin, he pushes them away. It's his defense mechanism."
"Well his loss right." I knew that attitude. The fuck em and get on with your life attitude. We've all used it, I've used it with many, many men including Michael. And what I've come to find out is that it's all a rouse to cover any and every emotion.
"Yeah," I agreed, "his loss."
"Well I should get going, got patients to see, you know the drill."
"Yeah. So should I tell Michael you called?"
"I'd prefer it if you didn't. I'll call him later. Do you know where he went?" And my mind quickly struggled with an explanation.
"Don't answer that." He quickly stated, "I don't want to know and knowing Michael, he's probably busy bouncing right back." And the pain in his voice was ever present.
"Don't sweat it man, Michael will be Michael and you'll continue to be you. You're a doctor for crying out loud. You got money, you're like a fucking God with your looks."
"You think so?"
"Hell yeah, if I wasn't busy eyeing someone else I would have swept you up."
"Same here. You're some guy Richie and I really wish the best for you and your friend. Things will work out for you."
"You know about that huh."
"Michael didn't say anything to me. I'm just able to see these little love connections. When you're in love, everything seems like endless possibilities."
And all this talk about love, relationships and possibilities was beginning to get me down.
"Well I wish the best for you too Adam, you're a good man and if Michael can't see that, he's an ass."
"Well at least we have a consensus on that. Ah, there goes my pager, I'll talk to you later and thanks, we should talk some more, maybe head out to lunch or something."
"Most definitely." I liked that idea. We would be like a miniature club, 'EX'S R US' the idea amused me.
"Bye Richie."
"Bye Adam."
And I thought, hours after that conversation, how easy it was for successful men like Adam and I to be passed up for whatever else was out there. Not to be vain or anything but if we weren't enough, who would be. And then I had a thought, 'maybe it was just God's way of telling us that that was the price to pay for living the lives we lived.' And again, another thought overidded the previous one. 'Or maybe it was just our own damn faults for allowing our feelings to think for us instead of our heads.' Michael was never ever the one on the other end of the spectrum and for good reason too. He thought with his head and for that simple reason, he would never get hurt. And maybe Bobby was that way too, never to be left heartbroken because common sense outweighed emotion. And maybe guys like Adam and myself would forever be hurt because we refused to understand and get with the program. But even thinking that such a thing was true would mean that there was no hope for Bobby and me and that was something I refused to let go of.
ALL THE EMAILS HAVE BEEN GREAT! I HAVE TRIED TO ANSWER ALL OF THEM AND IF I MISSED ONE OR TWO, I DO APOLOGIZE. PLEASE CONTINUE TO TELL ME IF YOU LIKED OR DIDN'T LIKE SOMETHING. I ALWAYS WANT TO KNOW. THANK YOU FOR THE CONTINUED SUPPORT.