Henry's End (10 page)

Read Henry's End Online

Authors: Julie Richman

Not between us? Is he kidding?
“Does she know?”

“She suspects.”

Pulling her ass hard against his cock, he ground as deeply into her as he could, before pumping in his hot load without a condom. He was drunk and fucking her ass was the only way he could get hard with her, even wasted.

When he was done, “Is that what you do to your boyfriend,” she spat between clenched teeth.

“At least he knows how to suck dick.”

Her hand was across his face slapping him before his drunk reflexes could stop her. She went and slept with the girls that night and every night after until their departure.

“So what is it you want from me, Cody?” Henry was confused.

“Right now,” he smiled, “I would love for you to suck my cock.”

“And then what?” Henry wanted to scream at him,
you weren’t there for me when I needed you. You weren’t there for me. I want someone who is there for me. And you didn’t even tell her.

“And then I’ll suck yours. Or maybe to show you how sorry I am, I’ll suck yours right now.” Grabbing Henry’s hand, he pulled him on top of his muscular body, finding his mouth for a kiss that was wrought with pain, longing and confusion. “I’ve missed your ass,” he whispered roughly.

With hands on Henry’s rear, Cody pressed them together, lining up their erections so that their cocks touched through their clothing. Rubbing himself along Henry’s hardening cock, “You can’t tell me you didn’t miss this.” He undid Henry’s pants and started to pull them down.

Henry pulled his head back to look at the big Marine, “Of course I missed it. I missed you. I missed us. But I don’t think I can do this.”

“Do what?” Cody’s brows knit together.

“Be your dirty little secret while someone else gets the dream.”

Rolling his eyes, “Henry, I’m in the Marine Corps, losing a paycheck and pension isn’t an option and I’m not gay. Just because I like you to suck my cock doesn’t mean I’m gay.

“You’re serious.” Henry’s mouth hung open.

“Yeah, I’m serious. I’m not a fag.” Cody pushed Henry off him.

“You’ve been fucking me for months. We’ve been in a relationship. What is it you think you are, Cody?”

“Certainly not a god-damn fag,” he spat with disdain.

“Yeah, whatever. You keep telling yourself that.” Henry shook his head. “I think you should leave now.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Cody stood and took a step toward the door, then turned back to Henry, “You’re throwing me out?” There was disbelief in his tone.

“You need to leave. Now.”

He was on Henry like a large cat pouncing on its prey, “You don’t give me orders, you little faggot. I leave when I want to leave.” And in one swift move, he had Henry face down on the floor. With his knee in the middle of Henry’s back and his fingers wrapped tightly through his ginger waves, he slammed Henry’s face repeatedly into the parquet wood tiles.

The searing pain was immediate. He felt the first slam and heard a deafening cracking sound that he instinctively knew were the bones in his cheek. On the third slam, his nose crushed to the left, cutting off one air supply. By the fifth slam he was unconscious, his struggling body now limp.

“I’m not a fag and I don’t take orders from them.”

He never felt the pain of Cody’s rage on his ass as the big Marine violently took what he wanted one last time, nor did he feel the thud of keys being thrown onto his back before Cody calmly walked out of his apartment for the very last time.

Sometime after 2 A.M. he regained consciousness. Disoriented, it took him a few minutes to recognize his surroundings and remember the details of the assault. Immediately gripped by fear that Cody was still there, waiting to finish what he had started, he lay there very still until he was certain that he was all alone. Staying in one position to mentally gather the strength to bear the pain, he slowly crawled across the apartment.

When he reached the kitchen, he pulled the phone by its cord until it came crashing down onto the floor next to him. Just the sound of the phone smashing to the floor caused pain in his multiple injuries. Lifting the receiver, he hit the redial button, because it was easier than dialing 911. Listening to the series of rings, Henry prayed the call didn’t go to an answering machine.

“Hello,” Edwin’s voice was filled with sleep.

“I need an ambulance,” he thought he said, but wasn’t really sure, as he once again lost consciousness.

Edwin didn’t recognize Henry when
he stepped behind the curtain in the Emergency Room. Swollen into a grotesque, bruised mask, it was only the shock of wavy ginger hair that assured him that this was his sweet, beautiful friend. The IV with painkillers had knocked him out and he was resting, although Edwin doubted that it was comfortably.

Sighing deeply, he took Henry’s hand and held it tightly, “Oh sweet boy, how could that animal have done this to you?”

A nurse walked in, “Are you Edwin?”

He nodded.

“Henry was able to write this down, before they gave him the sedatives and pain medication.”

She handed him a piece of paper from a pharmaceutical pad. In scratchy, barely legible handwriting, “Call Schooner. 714-555-3012. Bring wedding pictures.”

Edwin looked up at the nurse, “Was he delirious? It says to bring wedding pictures.”

The nurse shook her head, “No, he wasn’t delirious. The surgeon is going to need photos to help in the reconstruction of the bones in his face so that he ends up looking somewhat like he did before the attack.”

Somewhat like he did before the attack?
Closing his eyes, Edwin tried to process the information. Facial reconstruction. Surgery. Sweet, sweet Henry, the boy who had paid for a friend’s funeral, when his own family wouldn’t, was the victim of such violent hatred just for being who he was. And his attacker, Edwin was certain without actually knowing, was a man whom he had trusted with his heart and body. And now what had that very same man stolen from his soul. This was too steep a price to pay for loving the wrong person.

As he headed down the hall in search of a phone, he thought,
well, I’m finally going to get to meet Boat Boy,
the nickname he had given to Henry’s odd-named friend.
Not exactly the way I wanted to meet him.

Henry had just been moved into an actual room when his old friend, Schooner Moore, arrived. Lightly dozing in a chair next to the bed, Edwin opened his eyes to the pained look on his handsome friend’s face. The man had grabbed the heavy plastic footboard at the end of the bed as if to stop himself from swaying and closed his eyes as he slowly exhaled a lungful of air.

Edwin sat there silently watching the pain on his face turn to seething anger.
Lion King,
Edwin thought,
this man is the king and no one hurts a member of his pride and gets away with it.
He looked like he was ready to pounce. Henry had described Schooner as ‘larger-than-life’ and Edwin agreed with the assessment.

The man was big, several inches over six feet with a strong athletic build.
I’ll bet he could give that Marine a run for his money,
was Edwin’s immediate thought. With his thick blonde hair, sky blue eyes, and beautifully photogenic features, Edwin couldn’t think of a single actor working in Hollywood better looking than this man.

Schooner finally noticed he was being watched and looked over at Edwin. “The Marine?”

“I think so,” Edwin sighed deeply.

Nodding, Schooner’s eyes focused back in on his friend. “Don’t worry. He won’t get away with it.”

Alarmed that Schooner would go after him and be hurt, Edwin opened his mouth to protest.

As if sensing that, he shook his head, “Don’t worry, it won’t be anything physical, even though I would like to kill him, he deserves something much worse.”

“Oh you’re evil, I like you.”

And it was then that Edwin saw the beautiful All-American boy smile for the first time. A smile that almost made him gasp at its sheer beauty. The man was magnificent.

“He really loves you.” Edwin looked solemnly at their sleeping friend.

“I’m an only child and he’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother. He was there to pick me up in my lowest moments and he knows things about me other people don’t. That’s how much I trust him.” Schooner sat down in the chair next to Edwin and crossed his long legs.

“You know it’s an odd thing for a straight guy to be close friends with a gay man.”

Schooner shrugged. “It’s not really something I think about. We’ve been friends for a long time. A mutual friend introduced us and Henry and I just hit it off.” He thought for a moment before speaking again, “We love who we love. It may not make sense to anyone else. It doesn’t need to. It may not even make sense to you,” he paused, shrugging again. “It doesn’t need to.”

Edwin had the sense that Schooner wasn’t just talking about his relationship with Henry, but also of someone else. He knew that he was married, yet he’d bet his last dollar that the love he was talking about wasn’t with his wife.

The unlikely pair held a bedside vigil, Schooner taking on the role of primary contact with the doctors, meeting with the plastic surgeon and leaving the room to make phone calls that Edwin got the feeling had something to do with retribution for the Marine. The doctors wanted Henry stabilized prior to putting him under anesthesia for surgery, but didn’t want to miss a fine window to operate.

With his jaw already wired and swelling still significant, Henry’s ability to communicate was limited when he awoke.

“Squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no,” Edwin spoke slowly to him as if he were talking to a small child. “Do you understand that?”

His strength was limited, but both men could distinctly see the single squeeze.

“Did Cody do this to you?” Edwin asked in a hushed tone.

Again, a single squeeze.

“Son of a bitch,” Schooner muttered.

“Do you want to press charges?”

Two squeezes came in rapid succession.

“Are you afraid that he might come back and hurt you if you do, H?” Schooner asked, moving closer to where Edwin was seated.

A single squeeze.

“Hey, buddy, don’t worry about that. That motherfucker is going to be spending a good long time in a hell hole in the Middle East and that’s a promise. And if he does get back stateside, he will not be stepping foot in California, I can guarantee you that.”

Edwin looked up at Schooner, “Is that what you’ve been doing on that cute little cellular phone of yours?” Edwin loved the new little StarTac phone Henry’s friend seemed to have attached to his ear.

Smiling, “My mom and dad send you their love, H.”

Inwardly smiling, it was immediately clear to Edwin that Schooner Moore’s parents had some very influential connections and that he had called upon them to gain some justice for his friend.

Watching Henry close his eyes and drift back to sleep, both men hoped that they had given him some solace in knowing he wouldn’t fall prey to another attack.

“I need to go make a call,” Schooner began to move away.

“You needed corroboration?”

He nodded, “Obviously we needed to confirm, but it’s exactly as we thought it was.

“Will he really be shipped off?”

There was a look of satisfaction on the handsome blonde’s face and he nodded. “Yeah, he’s a huge liability to them.”

Smiling, Edwin pointed a finger at Schooner, “I knew I liked you.”

Laughing, “Well, I think you are going to like me even more. There’s a little part two to this that I think you’re going to like and I’m going to need your help to pull off. Are you in?” Schooner gave Edwin an irresistible, conspiratorial smile.

Dipping his head and looking up at Schooner through his lashes, “I’m all in.”

Edwin wondered if anyone could ever say no to this beautiful White Knight.

Schooner walked into Henry’s apartment with a small soft cooler bag and put it down on the coffee table. “Hey, look at you,” he smiled at his friend sitting on the couch. “You really look amazing.”

Home for several days, Henry’s bruising from both the attack and the subsequent surgeries had improved significantly, as had his swelling. Handsome prior to the beating, a team of Southern California’s very talented surgeons reconstructed the bones in Henry’s cheeks, nose, jaw and eye orbits, resulting in Henry not only looking like his former self, but with a finer, more refined elegance to his bone structure. A one and a half inch scar below his eye on his left cheekbone would add a slightly rugged dimension to his impressive looks.

Other books

Slow Learner by Thomas Pynchon
Daring by Mike Shepherd
At Last by Stone, Ella
Delicate Chaos by Jeff Buick
The Reiver by Jackie Barbosa
Duty and Desire by Pamela Aidan
A Murder in Tuscany by Christobel Kent
Quicksand by John Brunner