So he strode in to the Bayside Hotel, where a few of the employees welcomed him and asked how he was doing, how devastated they were by what happened to Aaron, “he was the life of this place, our regular guests already miss him as much as we do,” and Paolo accepted all condolences in the spirit they were given. Then he made his way to the bar. He'd only made it through the night at Edgar and Jack's with those tequila shots, and now knowing what he was about to do, well, a shot of Patron was in order.
“Silver,” he said, and watched as the bartender poured from the squat bottle.
Paolo accepted the shot glass, knocked its contents back with one gulp. The burning liquid felt so right oozing down his throat that he slapped the glass on the bar, indicating another. As he waited for his drink, he looked to his left and noticed another man at the bar, young, cute, with a thick shock of curly dark blonde hair, watching him curiously. Paolo acknowledged his flirtatious smile with a lift of his fresh shot, then went about his own private business without further thought toward the obvious advances of the guy. Still, as he made his way away from the bar, Paolo felt as though he knew that guy, that they had met somewhere. . .
Oh well, he had business to attend, that was the priority, and so he headed down toward the hotel's offices until he came to a door marked, “Private.” He didn't knock, instead just turned the knob and walked into the office unannounced to the utter surprise of the man behind the desk.
“What is the meaning of this. . .?” Danvers Converse asked, his wiry frame jumping up with surprisingly agility. His hand reached inside his desk drawer, but Paolo held out a hand in an effort to stop the man from doing something foolish.
“I mean you no harm,” Paolo said, “so there's no need to reach for your gun. Which I assume, is new. . .”
“Indeed, seeing as though your doomed lover chose to steal from me and try to use my own gun on me.”
Paolo winced at the brutal honesty, but said nothing further on the subject. Right now the last subject he wished to discuss was Aaron, what Danvers had done to him, what it had all cost him. Cost, yes, that was the key word here, it's all Paolo wanted to discuss. He closed the door, stepping forward and easing himself into Danvers’ guest chair. Danvers too settled back down, fingers laced like a church steeple, a crocodile's smile on his lips.
“So to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked.
“You want my house, you can have it,” Paolo said, “for the right price.”
“Well, you're certainly direct, Mr. Bautista,” Danvers said, intrigued, “but without the others, your house is worthless.”
“I think you're wrong.”
“Oh, how is that?”
“Gold,” Paolo said, playing his hand because he had nothing to lose.
Danvers’ smiled widened, like he was getting ready to attack and was enjoying the moment of anticipation. “Someone's been doing his research. Should have dealt with that snitch Miller more effectively.”
“What you want, it's not just about building a resort, that's just a front for what you really intend to do—to excavate the land around Eldon Court for gold—and in the process you get to destroy the Saunders family legacy.”
“George Saunders told me he loved me, then he sold me out for the security of his regular life,” Danvers said, “and then they crazy loon betrayed me.”
“I don't care about your motives, Danvers,” Paolo said, “I've got nothing left here in Wonderland, not after Aaron's death. . . it's time for me to move on. So if you want my house and my property, here's the price.”
Paolo unfolded a piece of paper he had been holding in his hand, slid it against the cherry wood desk, waiting anxiously for Danvers to pick it up. He did, finally, of course he did, he was a businessman first, fueled by his endless quest for money and power, but also to fulfill his plan for revenge. The man raised his eyebrow at the amount.
“A hefty price,” he said.
“It's nothing compared to what I've lost,” Paolo said.
“So I pay for the house and the land, and the rest is. . .”
“Collateral damage.”
“I'll have to think about your offer,” Danvers said.
“You have two days,” Paolo said. “If you don't buy it, I'll sell it to someone else.”
Danvers eyes narrowed. “And who would that be?”
“My neighbors,” Paolo said, “They'll all come together and buy Number Three from me, thus strengthening their hold on Eldon Court. Just makes your job even harder.”
Danvers Converse said nothing for over a minute, and the silence and warmth in the office brought beads of sweat to Paolo's forehead. But he wouldn't wipe at them, not when he had the upper hand. Or did he? Had he overplayed it? But just when he was getting ready to speak, Danvers broke the silence.
“Fine, two days. I'll give you my answer,” he said, extending a hand across the desk.
Paolo refused to accept it, and Danvers just nodded with understanding.
“Well played, Mr. Bautista,” Danvers said, standing back up.
“Oh, no, Mr. Converse, nothing about this entire mess has been well played,” he said, and then without another word he exited the office, finally letting out a hefty breath he felt he'd been holding since the moment he'd boldly stepped inside Danvers’ inner sanctum. But now that he'd done what he'd done, set in motion something he knew his neighbors would disapprove of, Paolo felt finally free, of Eldon Court and of Aaron, even if briefly, and that's when he made his way back toward the bar.
The guy was still there, and the first thing Paolo allowed was to have him buy a drink.
It wasn't the last overture he would accept.
* * * *
“Oh shit, fuck, fuck, give it to me. . .”
The cute, sexy man from the bar thrust hard above him, his hard cock pushing itself deep inside Paolo's smooth ass. He felt every push and he welcomed them, urging the man on, more, more, don't stop fucking me, that's what he begged for, his voice swirling inside the hotel room. His eyes locked not on the man screwing him but on the bare ceiling, it was like he was staring at a blank slate, the remainder of his life unwritten, this little sexual interlude just what he needed to release him from the hold of Wonderland, of Eldon Court.
“Oh, yeah, Paolo, you're so sexy, yes, take it, take it. . .”
It had happened as naturally as anything, the intent clear in both sets of eyes as they had cheered over that first drink, the gentle touch of hands upon hands as they agreed to a second round, an initial kiss while they finished their third and final drink, a tease of what was to come. Properly liquidated, libidos loosened, inhibitions unleashed, they made their way to the man's room on the seventh floor, Room 713, neither of them saying anything, neither needing to. This was just going to be pure sex, what each of them wanted, what Paolo desired, this cute young sexy guy with the hot smile that had so drawn him in. He reminded him of a younger Aaron.
Paolo had easily slipped out of his Capri pants and flowered shirt, showing off his fine body, his olive-toned skin, his hard, hungry cock. The man had removed his shirt, displaying a surprising coat of chest hair, and then he'd dropped his pants, revealing an even more impressive cock, thick and already dripping with anticipation. Paolo had dropped to his knees and taken the cock deep inside his mouth, the man pushing it back to his throat with a hard thrust. And so Paolo had sucked it, and he'd sucked more, and just then the man quickly shuddered and his cock shot forth a thick load of come. Paolo allowed drops to spill out onto his face, dripping off his chin.
“Nice,” he'd said.
“You need to come,” the man had said.
“No, I need you to fuck me,” Paolo had said.
And so the Paolo had planted himself on the bed and positioned his legs like he'd seen Marc do for Parker, and then the man had come to him, prepared, ready, sliding himself easily into Paolo's desperate ass. Now, the man continued to thrust hard at Paolo's hole, even as he felt himself distanced from the actual act, like he was watching from afar, perhaps in the darkened room, alone with the flickering images. In his mind he was Rose Emerson's character from
Black Velvet,
he was enjoying the sexual experience even though he knew the plot, the garrote waiting under the pillow, ready to wrap itself around her lover's throat just as he climaxed, dying in a moment of erotic strangling. But that's not what he had planned for himself, this wasn't a revenge fuck or a prelude to death. This was life.
“More, more, keep going,” Paolo begged.
That was the thing about youth, they had the relentless stamina to keep going, especially when they'd already come once and had to dig deep into their reserves for that second, heady orgasm. Paolo dug sharp nails into the man's back, wandered down to a patch of thick hair at the small of his back, fingering the furry trail as it disappeared inside the crack of his ass. Yes, he felt good, his cock and his hard body and the light coating of hair on his body, Paolo was enjoying it so much but he also hated himself for loving it. . . but wasn't that the point? Wasn't that why he'd accepted the man's offer to “come upstairs and let me fuck your brains out,” because he was disgusted with himself over his deal with Danvers Converse, over what it would mean to the neighbors of Eldon Court?
He'd been their friend.
He'd been their lover.
And now he'd become their enemy.
Paolo Bautista had been through the ringer lately, and this pulsing, sexual interlude was just the release he'd been looking for. Who he was having sex with, well, that was just the added bonus to everything. He heard the man cry out with orgasm again, and Paolo felt his own climax begin to build. The man came first, his condom-wrapped cock bursting inside him, Paolo feeling every spurt. Oh, shit, he was close, so close. . .
The man pulled out, exhausted.
Paolo pushed him onto his stomach, exposing the man's hairy ass. He jerked at his cock, feeling the heat rush through his hard shaft, ready to burst from the pulsing head. . . he stroked, fast, fast, harder, harder, and then he felt his first release since he'd witnessed Parker and Marc fucking, and the intensity was the same, this overwhelming sense of life being bigger than any of them, that power was something to be harnessed but also to be released. He shuddered loudly, watched as his cock exploded, white hot bursts shooting on the patch of hair at the small of the man's back, watching as it leaked down into his crack, disappearing as though shamed.
“Fuck, that was hot,” the man said, “love how you came on me.”
“Yeah, you're a sexy guy,” Paolo said, his breath returning to normal after his shattering climax. “It's just what I needed today. Thanks, Troy.”
* * * *
That night, when all was quiet and even the moon was nowhere to be seen, Paolo Bautista returned to Eldon Court, the cul-de-sac feeling foreign to him. He parked his car, and rather than go inside to a home that would soon not be his, he ventured down the rocky bluff to the beach below. The night was cool, but Paolo was still warmed from another, more acrobatic sexual exchange with the elusive Troy Saunders, who seemed none the wiser of whom he'd fucked. So now, when Paolo sat down on the sand and felt the trails of waves touch his feet, he felt vitally alive. He could actually smile at all he'd accomplished today.
Just then his cell phone buzzed and he reached for it.
A text message.
“Have huge news. See you soon.”
That's all it said. But it was who had sent it that intrigued Paolo. Dane, Aaron's brother.
Paolo hoped it was good news, after all they'd been through they sure could use some. The idea of Aaron's brother returning to Wonderland, it filled him with sudden regret, wondering if he'd done the right thing today with Danvers, and then with Troy. He was tired of the duplicity, but even as he tried to convince himself he was done with it he'd only upped the ante. When the person you hugged, embraced, fucked, and then climaxed over had motives you could never see or guess, you had to suppose they thought the same thing. Was that was it was between Marc and Parker, between Paolo and all of his friends?
We all wear masks
, Paolo thought,
hiding our true selves, and only when they came off did you know who was friend, who was enemy.
What next?
* * * *
Part Four
“Ex's and Oh's”
By Jeff Wilcox
* * * *
They clutched each other so tightly it hurt, but no mere physical discomfort could match their tortured emotions—one had just lost a sibling and the second, a significant other. Aaron's absence echoed through Paolo's heart, reverberating with a sting that punished him with sorrow and guilt. Dane, on the other hand, felt adrift, unsure of how to manage the anguish he was drowning in and afraid of the anger pushing up from deep inside.
“We can't let him win, you know. Converse has to pay!” Dane broke from Paolo, sensing his neighbor's reluctance. Dane shook him. “We've got to see this through. For Aaron.”
A sob escaped Paolo's throat. Dane was right. In Latino culture,
familia
was everything. Aaron wasn't just Dane's flesh and blood;he was Paolo's entire family. And here he had been willing to give Converse what he wanted and run away. Away from the home he and Aaron once shared. He burned with shame.
Paolo looked at Dane now with clearer eyes. His neighbor had changed. His eyes were hard and focused, yes. But there was something else. The way he carried himself was more confident. And wasn't his physique a little more filled out?
“Let me fill you in.” Dane described what he and Sawyer had been up to since the funeral. Sawyer wanted to buy a gun but Dane refused. “Look where that got Aaron.”
That's when Dylan DeMille, Dane's gay-for-pay video star offered to help. Turns out, there was more to the former college football player than met the eye, though his mountainous pectorals, 17-inch guns and rather impressive basket certainly demanded attention. What no one could see was his proficiency in MCMAP.
“MC Map? Is that a rap artist?”
The hunk sighed, “Marine Corp Martial Arts Program. My brother was in the service and taught me whenever he was home.”