Goldilocks: A Man, a Jersey, and a Tight End (13 page)

“Shhh,” Brian whispered urgently. “They don’t know. They’re guessing. Don’t break, Scott.”

“
Quiet!
” came the bellow from the other room.

* * * *

Sometime later, Scott and Brian were still standing in their corners, only now each had his nose resting in the middle of a small chalk circle that had been drawn on the wall. Scott made a weak, sighing noise, like the creak of an old house settling, and Brian felt a twinge of guilt.

This had all begun, supposedly, as a fun prank to get back at Paul and Jim a little bit. That was how Brian had presented it to Scott, and he’d almost had himself convinced as well.

But there was more to it than that and Brian wasn’t sure what to do, now that he had enmeshed his friend in the web of deceit and evasions.

He fidgeted, glancing toward the kitchen doorway, where Paul and Jim still sat talking.

“
Eyes front!
” he heard bellowed.

“It has to have been Brian’s idea,” said Paul. “It’s so devious.”

“Scott can be devious,” said Jim, surprised to find himself defending his brat’s bratly honor.

“That’s true,” Paul allowed. “But would he have been able to talk Brian into it?”

Jim shook his head.

“Well.” Paul stood and clapped Jim on the shoulder. “At least you caught it, bud. I’d be tied to a chair by now, clucking like a chicken. You should have seen Brian dusting today. Thought I’d have a stroke!”

Jim grinned. “I almost hate to see it end. Those short shorts of Scott’s would be illegal in some states.”

Paul looked bemused and then surprised. A single laugh escaped from him. “That monster! He dropped something on the floor in front of me.
Twice
. And bent to pick it up without bending his knees. And I felt
guilty
for ogling him.”

Jim chuckled. “God forbid you treat him as a sex object. The demon.”

“Both of ’em,” said Paul. “Well, time to get to the bottom of it.”

“So to speak,” said Jim, pushing back his chair and rising as well. “You have a plan?”

“Yeah. Follow my lead?”

Jim swung his arm toward the kitchen door. “After you.”

* * * *

Things had gone horribly wrong.

“Get the paddle for me, Brian,” said Paul in that cool voice.

Brian hesitated. Paul sat on their bed, Scott spread over his lap. Scott’s pants were down, and Paul had his hand just lying there. From his vantage point, Brian could see Scott’s face: bright red, eyes huge.

“Do either one of you want to tell me what’s going on?” said Paul, rubbing Scott’s butt.

“Stop with the Gestapo tactics,” growled Scott from upside down. “Crazy leather freak.”

“Why is Paul spanking you, Scott?” Jim snapped.

Scott opened his mouth with some retort but, Brian was relieved to see, seemed to think better of it in his current position.

“You think I’ve kept a secret,” he said.

“You’ve been keeping something from Paul and me,” said Jim. “That’s why this has to happen, Scott. And you know it.”

Paul looked at Brian and held out his hand. “Brian? The paddle?”

It wasn’t that they both didn’t deserve it. It was that Paul had never spanked Scott. Ever. Something was wrong with it, and Brian felt like the twist in his stomach was going to just tear him in half. Yet he couldn’t open his mouth and say whatever it was he had to say because, for some reason, he still didn’t know how exactly to say it.

“Yes, S-s-sir,” he said instead. And reached into the closet and brought out the paddle.

“Jim?” said Brian. Hoping, just maybe, Jim would relent and consent to punishing Scott himself. But Jim stood in the doorway looking like the grimmest genie from a Hans Christian Andersen tale: big arms folded and stoic face set down into his beard in a permanent frown.

Paul rested the paddle on Scott’s rump, and Brian could see his friend trying to control the shivers this evinced.

“We don’t keep secrets in this house,” Paul said to Scott. And then he looked up and straight at Brian and said, “Even if we’re asked to.”

Paul raised the paddle just as Scott was about to say something snide, and the
smack
of it seemed to ring in the room.

Scott yelped, his eyes wide.

Smack.

Brian could see Scott’s legs jump and the way Paul leaned on him to hold him down.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Scott’s head was down now, face bright red, eyes tightly closed. In the horrible silence of the room, they could all hear Scott take in a long shaking breath.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

Paul never spanked Brian unless Brian secretly wanted it. It had never been a punishment as much as a desired confirmation of their commitment and obligation to each other. As far as Brian knew, it was the same with Jim and Scott. But, he guessed, Scott did not enjoy the paddlings—or need them—as much as Brian did.

Smack.

Scott’s body jumped.

“Stop it,” whispered Brian.

Paul didn’t even look up.

Smack. Smack.

Paul stopped. Across his lap, Scott’s whole body was shaking. His ass was maraschino-cherry red, and his face was flushed. Paul let him up, and Scott flailed for a minute, looking for comfort, but when Jim remained in the corner, he flung his arms around Paul.

Paul held him, crooned comfort into his ears. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked Scott.

But Scott shook his head.

Still holding Scott, hand rubbing his back firmly, Paul looked up at Brian.

Brian walked the four steps over to him. It felt like a mile. “Scott,” he said, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. He helped Scott to stand and walk over to Jim, who held him. Then he went back to Paul and dropped his pants, got into position.

Paul sighed. “Brian, why won’t you tell me?”

Brian shook his head. It was all so horribly familiar. The soothing hand on his back, the cool paddle just resting there for a minute, and then the fire. The endless, endless fire, until Brian was a shaking mass of grief and Scott was yelling, “Stop it! God, Paul, just stop it!” and still it didn’t stop until it did. And even then, Brian couldn’t stop crying, flinging himself into Paul’s arms, and sobbing as if his heart would break. Because it would. If he ever told Paul. It would all be over, and Brian would rather take his punishment every night for the rest of his life than tell Paul.

“Show him the fucking letter,” said Scott. “Or I will.”

From Paul’s arms, Brian stared over his shoulder at Scott and said, “I hate you.”

Scott had taken the paddling, stoically, but he flinched at Brian’s words. “I’m sorry, Brian,” he said.

Jim cradled Scott’s head against his chest. “Nobody hates anybody.”

Scott burrowed into the soft fur there and shook his head.

“So, where is this letter?” asked Paul calmly.

“In my backpack.” Brian felt a big fat tear roll down his cheek. “I’ll get it for you.”

Chapter Twelve

They all sat in the living room. Well, Paul and Jim sat, and Scott and Brian stood. Scott was gripping Jim’s shoulder so tightly that his knuckles stood out white. He was glaring at the floor. He’d tried, once, to say something to Brian as they’d left the bedroom, but Brian couldn’t look at or talk to
anybody
yet, so he’d just ignored Scott.

Paul finished reading the letter, folded it, and looked at the floor for several minutes. Then he handed it to Jim and waited for Jim to read it.

“Brian?” said Paul after he and Jim had exchanged one of those meaningful mind-meld top looks that always made Brian feel like there was A Plan that he shouldn’t be told about quite yet. “
Why
didn’t you show this to me?”

That was the question, wasn’t it?

It had been one of those long exhausting weeks that took every ounce of Brian’s resolve to bear, and so he just said, “Because I knew what you’d say.”

“And you didn’t want that?”

Brian shook his head.

“I don’t understand,” said Paul. “You received a letter of merit and an offer for a prestigious internship with a major company, and you didn’t want me to say ‘I’m so proud of you, Brian’?”

Brian looked up at him. “Well, that part I like.”

Paul just stared at him, the letter in one hand and his empty open palm in the other lying on either knee in absolute astonishment. “What part do you not like?”

“The internship,” said Brian. “It’s in New York.”

“Oh,” said Jim. “I see.”

Paul looked at Jim, looked back at Brian. “It’s only six months.”

What was really horrible was that Paul even thought it was acceptable. Brian shook his head, fighting the stupid tears and the choky feeling in his throat, and spat, “Fine. I’ll go then.” And he spun on his heel and ran to the bedroom and slammed the door.

Paul stared at the door, turned, and stared at Jim. “I could go to New York.”

“I don’t think that’s the point,” said Jim.

“You could go too,” Paul pointed out. “We all could.”

“I couldn’t,” said Scott softly, glaring at the floor. “My routes are all western and nor-western. But then, who cares? He wouldn’t want me there anyway.”

“Honey, I’d want you there.”

“Oh, come on, given a choice between seeing me and seeing Goldilocks?” Scott was breathing hard, his face flushed. “This will break us all up. Brian knows that. And Paul doesn’t even
care
.” And then he, too, stomped out of the room, and another bedroom door slammed.

Paul’s eyes were big as saucers. “Jim. What am I doing wrong?”

“Oh, that’s nice. You ask me
now
?”

“I’m sorry. I…I’m so confused.”

“It’s partly my fault.” Jim sighed. “This has been brewing for a while. I knew there was something wrong, and I blamed it all on your being absent. Of course, that was only part of the problem. Brian knows that if you start your own dealership down here, you won’t have time to visit him. He won’t be able to help you either, and in case you haven’t noticed, that’s a big part of what makes him feel like an equal partner in your relationship.”

Jim rubbed his neck. “I could go to New York with him, but if I did, as Scott pointed out, Scott’s and my relationship would suffer. I’d actually have to choose, on occasion, which man needed me more. And their friendship would be strained probably beyond bearing.”

“But there has to be a way.”

“There is. You put off the dealership deal until Brian is back, as you originally planned. You and I take turns going out there, so that Scott always has one of us here. We help Scott afford to visit New York on occasion too. Though the thought of those two in New York City without one of us is truly frightening.”

Paul’s expression was somber. “That’s six months with a minimum income.”

Jim nodded. “It’s a big sacrifice.”

“I can’t believe he thought I didn’t care,” said Paul. “And Scott? He still thinks he’s a fifth wheel, doesn’t he?”

Jim’s head bowed.

“I thought we were doing so well,” said Paul. “I’m such an idiot.”

Jim cracked a small smile. “They say knowing that is the first step toward wisdom.”

Chapter Thirteen

When he heard the small knock at the door, Scott thought it would be Jim. “It’s open,” he said.

When Paul’s head peeked around the door, Scott quickly stood up from the corner where he’d been crouching.

“Can I come in?”

Scott shrugged. “Sure. It’s your house, I guess.”

Paul slid in and let the door close behind him. “It’s your house too.”

Scott studied his own hands.

Paul walked over and took those two hands gently in his own. “Will you talk to me?”

Scott shrugged noncommittally.

Paul sat on the bed, drawing Scott toward him. If it were Brian, he would have pulled the man into his lap. Paul settled for Scott standing before him.

“I owe you an apology,” said Paul.

Scott tipped his head and studied him with one narrowed eye.

“I don’t pay attention to what you say often enough. I don’t have an excuse for it. All I can do is ask you to forgive me and give me a chance.”

Scott was silent.

“I’m still learning all this too, Scott. I’m going to make mistakes. And I’m scared…” Paul shook his head.

“Hey,” Scott said softly. He laid a hand on the side of Paul’s head. Stroked Paul’s temple very softly with his thumb for many minutes.

Paul spoke, head down. “I should have talked to you about…what happened between Brian and me, instead of letting you hear it from Jim.”

“Yeah,” said Scott. “That scared the crap out of me.”

“Did you think I’d hurt him?”

“I think Brian would do
anything
for you, snake man. You have way too much power over him. I mean, I get that that is sort of what’s happening here with all of us, but with you two it just seems so out of balance.”

“
I
have power over
Brian
?” said Paul. He shook his head in disbelief.

“When Jim orders me around, well, I know he’s just doing it for my own good,” said Scott. “It’s not like I wouldn’t do whatever it is, anyway, when I got good and ready to.”

“I never ask Brian to do anything he doesn’t want to.”

“If it were up to Brian, would he have even
thought
of any of this?” said Scott. “Naw. He might be involved with some übermacho leather daddy, but would he be wearing a collar and leash?”

“Brian doesn’t wear a leash,” said Paul. “But I get your point. If I hadn’t met Brian, though, Scott, I wouldn’t be involved in this kind of relationship either. I’m as surprised as he is.”

They remained, Paul holding Scott’s one hand, Scott stroking Paul’s temple. “What is this?” said Scott suddenly, tracing the design above Paul’s ear.

“An asp.”

“They poisonous?”

Paul’s eyebrow crooked. “As it happens. Legend has it that Queen Cleopatra killed herself with the bite of an asp.”

“Hmmm.” Scott stroked the design, following it behind Paul’s ear and down his neck. “So, if a guy kisses you here, it’s like he’s eye to eye with a poisonous snake?”

Paul’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “I guess.”