A small sigh escaped Thomas. "They just sat there silently." He was swallowing constantly and Eric wondered if he was about to puke. "I guess they were numb. They just stared at John as if he could bring Laura back to life. The only time they showed any emotion was when I told the court about holding Laura's hand." His hands clenched white-knuckled around the whiskey glass.
Taking the glass out of his hands, Eric placed it to one side. He held both of Thomas' hands in his, his thumbs rubbing comfortingly across the knuckles.
"When I said she died as I held her, her dad started crying. No sobbing, just tears streaming down his face. Simon's face was so angry I could feel his hatred from where I was sitting."
"Shit, Tom," Eric murmured, his hands holding Thomas as if anchoring him to now, rather than the misery of his tale.
Thomas shuddered and continued, "Anyway, John did time and when he came out he was broken. He died not long afterwards. He just couldn't handle the stress of what happened."
"Good God, no!" Thomas seemed genuinely startled that Eric would think that. "He had a heart attack. The doctor said that the stress probably contributed to it."
There was a knock at the kitchen door, startling both of them. Eric looked up at the clock. They'd been talking for an hour. The rental had arrived at 2pm as promised.
A young woman, her long brown hair caught back in a ponytail, held out the keys and a clipboard. She sniffed a little and the hands holding the keys dropped down. "Have you been drinking? I can't let you have the car if you've been drinking." She wasn't aware of the irony of her statement.
Eric got up from the table and went to stand behind Thomas. He laid his hands on Thomas' shoulders and steered him back to the table. Turning back, he saw the young woman's eyebrows climbing up into her hair.
"He's fine. We're just chilling. Is that the paperwork for the car?" Eric politely but firmly steered the topic of conversation away from Thomas.
"Yeah, you need to sign there and there and— holy shit!" Eric looked up to see the woman looking at him with stunned recognition, her mouth opened in a pink lipsticked 'O' of surprise. He waited. "You're Sky Davies!"
He smiled at her as he took the clipboard. At least she was genuinely shocked, and nice. Some people were so rude and nasty to him, he wondered how they could call themselves fans at all.
"You won't tell anyone, will you?" he begged, "Only now's not such a good time." He nodded over his shoulder to his host. Eric frowned as he saw Thomas was drinking yet more whiskey.
"Not a word, I promise." She frowned, too, obviously worried about Thomas' behavior. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Jeannie. My name is Jeannie. Is he gonna be all right, Sky… Eric?" she asked again, peering worriedly around him.
"I'll look after him. He's had a bit of a shock, is all." Eric handed Jeannie the clipboard and held his hand out for the keys to the rental car.
Jeannie nodded, her ponytail swinging about her ears. "We heard 'bout the fire. Glad you weren't hurt, Eric."
"Me, too," Eric said, trying hard to be patient. He just wanted her to go so he could finish the conversation with Thomas.
Thomas mumbled a goodbye and Eric shut the door. He was going to have to make some phone calls to Sarah and his parents but he could do that while Thomas slept. At the rate he was drinking he'd pass out or puke before long.
"He's an accountant, living in Wales, with three kids and a large mortgage. He got married at twenty. We exchange emails sometimes." Thomas continued as if the interruption hadn't occurred.
"Huh?" Eric hadn't caught up.
"Kes. We keep in touch."
"Wayward hasn't tried to harm him?"
"I ought to email him and find out." Thomas was starting to slur a little as he spoke and his eyelids were drooping. Eric looked at the bottle. There was less than a fifth left of a once full bottle.
Eric was still confused. He had a million and one questions to ask. "I still don't see why Wayward is going after you now, after all this time. How did he even know you lived here?"
"I did some publicity for my last book. I've avoided it up to now but the publishers got stroppy and insisted on it to boost the sales. He must have seen my face in some magazine. It's not hard to find out where people live."
Thomas raised his head to look at Eric. It looked like it was a real effort to focus. "What do you write? I mean, I'm assuming you have a pen name as I've not seen any Clay on the bestsellers list." Then he winced. Oh God, what if he was a struggling author?
Eric had to remember to shut his mouth. "Ross Smith? But I've got all of his… yours. You're like… huge!"
"You've read them?" Thomas seemed
inordinately pleased at Eric's confession. "Yeah, I've been reasonably successful over the years. But the last one wasn't my normal 'all-fucking-straightfucked-up-hero-meets-uptight-fucked-up-heroinethey-screw-and-get-more-fucked-up' style and the publishers got a bit antsy. They didn't like the fact there was a gay hero." Thomas gave a cynical smile. "They wanted to portray me as a good Christian straight boy in case there was any comeback. Course, it would have been better if they had actually asked who I fuck before I started the interviews."
Eric had got a bit lost, distracted by all the fucking, but he got the gist. He had read the book, of course. The sexuality of the main character wasn't hidden but it wasn't central to the plot either. Eric hadn't been aware of any bad publicity following the publication of the book, but working such long hours that sort of thing would have passed him by.
"But the book was really successful." Eric had seen it at the top of the bestseller's list for weeks, so the publicity couldn't have affected him too adversely.
The last of the whiskey drained into the glasses. "Only takes one condemning speech by the bible thumpers to send the sales through the roof."
"Sink!" Eric virtually lifted Thomas to the sink as the whiskey made its inevitable return journey. He rubbed Thomas' back gently as his stomach heaved.
"Fuck, can't remember the last time meeting a new partner included so much vomit," Thomas gasped out when he could speak again.
"We do seem to have cornered the market on gross, don't we?" Eric reached over for a glass to give Thomas a drink of water.
Eric walked away he was sleeping on the couch with the trash can nearby. He wanted to Google details of the accident, although, as it was eleven years ago he wasn't sure what would be on record. But first he had some calls to make.
His mother was delighted that he'd decided to stay. Eric suggested she just wanted more recipes from Thomas. She scoffed at him but he noticed she didn't exactly deny it.
Sarah was not so effusive in her response but her tune changed a little when he let slip that his host was Ross Smith.
Eric didn't, and told her so pointedly. Sarah was notorious for keeping deals close to her chest until the last minute.
"And now you're fucking him," she mused, "Let's hope that doesn't come back to bite us in the ass."
It might be a little late for that,
Eric thought.
It was a grainy picture, poor quality even for a decade ago but it was undoubtedly Simon Wayward. It was a photo of the whole family; all dressed smartly for some unnamed occasion, Simon laughing at his sister as she stared into the camera, a cheeky grin on her face.
A lump rose in Eric's throat as he realized the photo had been taken two weeks before the accident. He found it on a page of the local newspaper and above it was a photo of the bereaved family at the trial. There weren't enough words to capture the burning hatred in Wayward's eyes or the blank look of despair in Laura's mom's face. There was also a photo of John and Kes heading into the Magistrates' Court. It didn't show much of their faces but their shoulders were slumped and their heads bent.
Reading the article that accompanied it, Eric noticed there was no mention of Thomas beyond the mention of a friend being in the car when the accident occurred.
Eric spent a couple of hours trying to find every piece of information he could on the accident and trial. There was little beyond a couple of articles; it was before the internet took over the media and the lack of information was frustrating. His search did elicit a couple of details Eric found very interesting. Firstly; Simon Wayward had spent time in jail for assault, and second; Ross Smith made large donations to organizations set up to help the victims and families of drink driving accidents, both here and in the UK. His name was listed in the newsletters, thanking him for his continuing support.
There was one of Thomas' books in a stack of novels on the shelf near where he was sitting. Reaching over, Eric snagged it and turned to the back. There was no author's photo. Thomas had shunned the limelight even as a successful and thriving novelist. His refusal must have infuriated his publishing company, and Eric was surprised Thomas had gotten away with it for so long.
Clicking on the photo of the broken family again, united by grief and anger, Eric found he couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose his brother or sister. And yet the Waywards weren't the only people damaged by the accident. John died, Kes lost his father, and Thomas was still hiding behind his writing. Now, Eric himself had been touched by a tragedy which occurred thousands of miles away over a decade ago.
Suddenly, all of the drama was stifling him and he could feel the prickle of a headache behind his eyes. He needed to get out of the house. Snatching the keys from the table, Eric whistled to Toby and Millie. They leaped up, wagging their tails at the prospect of a walk. He laughed at their drooping ears and tails when they discovered they were going in the car.
Toby gave him a skeptical glare but clambered into the back of the car obediently, Millie following unhappily. A few minutes later, Eric was pulling onto the road back to Grafton, leaving the area for the first time in a week as the late afternoon sun shone low in his eyes.
Damn, but it felt good to be out, away from all the tension. Eric smiled wryly at the irony. He'd come on vacation to get away from the stress and drama of making films and walked into his own real life version. Some break this was turning out to be.
Thomas, though; he was a whole different matter. Hell, that man made his toes curl… when he wasn't puking up. He was a whole bunch of sexy. Eric felt himself hardening just thinking about the events of yesterday, and the feel of Thomas pounding into his body. As promised, he would be feeling that for days. He pressed down on his groin, trying to get some relief. A moan escaped from his lips. Eric shook his head, trying to drag his concentration back to the road.
Cowboy Bob's was ahead of him. Thomas had said there were some open fields where people could walk their dogs near here. Most people parked at Bob's and crossed over to the fields. He pulled into the lot, hearing a low whine from the back as one of the dogs looked up hopefully.
"Promised you it wouldn't be long, didn't I, boy?" Eric reached over and scratched behind Toby's ears. The dog leaned into the caress for a minute but the prospect of a walk was too great and he started whining to be let out of the car.
Eric clipped their leashes on and let them out. As he locked the car Bob walked round the side of the building with a crate of bottles.
"Hi, Bob." Eric was impressed the man remembered his name. He'd only been here the once and since the migraine hadn't felt well enough to tackle another night out.
The man put down the crate and came over to him. "You've had an eventful stay, haven't you? It's the most drama Grafton's had in years. Glad you weren't hurt. Diane said you were unwell following the fire. Are you feeling any better?"
"It's certainly not been dull, and yeah, I'm much better now. Took a few days, though." Eric grimaced as he thought of the pain he'd been in.
"He's been a good host," Eric said, waiting for the inevitable.
Small town gossip, thy name is Diane,
he thought grimly.
How the hell did Diane find that one out so quickly? "He's had a bit of a shock, that's all. He'll be fine."
Bob gave him an apologetic smile. "Jeannie is Diane's daughter. It's a really small town here, Eric."
Eric gave him a steady look. "Look, you know the man better than I do but I'm not going to discuss him, not even to his friends."
A real grin spread over Bob's face at that. "That boy had better hang onto you. You're just what he needs right now."
Eric wondered if that was the equivalent of the father's seal of approval. The dogs were getting restless and tugging at their leashes. Eric looked at them and then at Bob. "Sorry, Bob, I'd best get these kids out for their walk or I'm gonna be in real trouble."