21. Chapter 21

I finished my beer and set the bottle on a tray held by a passing waiter from the catering staff. I turned around to look for my band to say goodbye to them and bumped into a familiar face but his name wasn't coming to me. I knew he was somehow involved with the music business but I couldn't remember in what capacity.

"It's good to see you again, Gage," a man with curly, salt and pepper hair said. He was about my height but slimmer with a rounded middle. Judging by his build, I guessed he sat at a desk all day.

"Good to see you, too," I said, "but I'm sorry, I can't seem to remember your name."

"Alan Gerskin," he replied.

"Ahh, now I remember," I said. "You're a lawyer for a few musicians I know." I was grateful I was able to finally connect the dots.

"It's been a while since our paths crossed at one of these events," Alan said. "But I have to be honest, I never would have pegged you as someone who'd need to pay for a date. I always assumed you rock stars had women—or men—falling from the sky to be with you. An endless supply of companions, so to speak."

"I'm not sure I'm following you," I said.

"The arm candy you brought with you tonight. His name is Bryce Banner," Alan explained. "He's an expensive date but I know for a fact he's worth every penny. Am I right?"

"Who the hell is Bryce?" I asked.

"The gorgeous man I've seen you strutting around with like he's a trophy," Alan said. "His professional name is Bryce—or it used to be, last time I used him. Maybe he's using another name these days. Who knows? They seem to change names as often as they change their pants. I couldn't be sure what he's calling himself now, since I'm off the market and no longer have the need to pay for. . . companionship."

"The guy I'm with is not Bryce and I sure as fuck didn't pay him to be here," I stated, getting more agitated by the second. "You must have him confused with someone else."

"No way. I never forget a pretty face—or a mouth like his," Alan said as his lips turned up in something close to a sneer. "Hands down, the best blowjobs I've ever had in my life, but you probably already know that. If not, you have something to look forward to later tonight."

I stepped into Alan's personal space with an urgent desire to reposition the features of his smug fucking face with my fist. Who the fuck did he think he was to spew this kind of bullshit to me about Cain? He obviously had the wrong guy.

"You seem shocked by what I've said," Alan continued with a slant of his head. "If that's the case, let me clue you in. Bryce, or whoever he calls himself, is a paid escort—one of the best LA had to offer back in the day. I can only assume his skills have improved over the years since I had him, so lucky you."

"You need to shut your fucking mouth," I seethed through clenched teeth. We were almost nose to nose and I had no intention of backing down. "There's no way in hell you have the right guy, so drop. . . it." I over-enunciated the last two words, spitting them out as if they were laced with the venom from a Black Mamba snake.

"Play it your way, Mr. Tennison," Alan said curtly, "but I'm not wrong about him."

Alan started chuckling as he turned around and walked away. I watched him disappear into the crowd with my hands curling into tight fists at my sides. I was seeing red and needed to lash out at someone and it was probably best if I left before I did something I'd regret. Opting not to go and find my band, Ray, or anyone else, I chose the safer option of going home. Alone. I stormed out of the ballroom and was pushing my way through the foyer to the entrance when Cain called out to me.

"I'm right behind you," he hollered at my back but I didn't wait. I continued outside to the covered portico and stood in front of the valet station.

"Black Maserati," I directed, confident I was the only one driving a black Maserati tonight.

"Yes, sir," the young man said and hurried off to get my car.

"Perfect timing," Cain said, slightly out of breath from hurrying out to meet me.

"Is it?" I said with sarcasm. "Perfect timing would have been me leaving before you saw me heading out."

The first verbal punch landed exactly how I expected it to, square in Cain's solar plexus. I heard the air rush out of Cain's lungs and his face flushed with heat. His eyes went from wary to panic in two seconds flat.

"What do you mean?" he asked just as the valet returned with my car.

I didn't answer Cain and pressed a hundred-dollar-bill tip into the palm of the parking attendant then walked around the front of my car and dropped into the driver's seat. Without waiting for an invite, Cain slid into the passenger seat. I started revving the car before he'd completely pulled the door down to lock it. I accelerated quickly out of the driveway, making the tires chirp on the pavement before we blasted off into the darkness.

"Gage, what the hell is going on?" Cain asked.

I had my teeth clamped together so tightly I feared I might break something but it was either risk damaging my pearly whites or do something out of anger that could get me arrested for assault. I could always get my smile fixed but Ray would never forgive me if he had to bail my ass out of jail. The safest bet was to remain silent for as long as I could and hopefully explode after I was safely alone inside my house and Cain was on the opposite side of my front door.

For several minutes I drove silent through the hills above Los Angeles. The only sound we heard was the growl of the engine which on another night might be a turn-on for me but not this night. I took each corner on the road faster than the last and more than once I saw Cain grabbing onto the door handle in fear. I knew the limits and threshold of this car's capabilities on the road and so far I hadn't come close to exceeding anything except the posted speed limit.

I had a fuck-all attitude and maybe a death wish but driving like a bat out of hell was my way of venting my anger. It was working—for now, and once I got home I'd be able to pound on something less mechanical and far less expensive, like the punching bag hanging in my home gym. My Maserati didn't deserve my fury—Cain deserved it pointed at him but right now I was far too pissed off to even deal with him. Unless he pushed me. Doing that wouldn't be a wise move on his part but I certainly didn't have control over what Cain—or whatever the fuck his name is—did.

The minutes ticked by slowly and I was still another ten minutes or more away from my house. It would be a miracle if I made it home without killing Cain with my fist or rolling my car. And at this point, I'd be more upset about trashing the Maserati.

"Gage, please tell me what the hell is going on," he pleaded in a soothing tone which was completely lost on me. Nothing in his voice would be able to calm me down tonight. Not one thing. The fact he was still acting as if he was clueless to why I might be so fucking angry that I'd risk wrecking my car or killing us in an accident was the last straw. He was a smart guy. There was no way he couldn't have connected the fucking dots by now and that's why I snapped.

"I'm curious about something," I bit out. "Did you see anyone at the party tonight that you knew? Maybe an old friend, an acquaintance, a fuck buddy, anyone familiar to you at all?"

Cain shook his head. "No, but I didn't expect to see anyone I knew," he said.

Wrong answer! He was lying through his perfect fucking teeth which had me revving the engine before downshifting and skidding around the next corner, blowing through a stop sign in the process.

"Think harder. Are you fucking sure you didn't see anyone you knew—Bryce?"

I swear I saw the color drain from Cain's face even with the dim lighting inside the car. Looked like I hit the nail on the head with that question which meant Alan was telling the truth about the lying sack of shit sitting beside me.

"Whatever you think you know, Gage, I can explain it," Cain said. "If you'll listen, I'll tell you the truth."

"The truth?" I roared in rage and visibly saw Cain flinch in his seat as if I might hit him. I didn't dare touch him because I knew in my current state of mind I might not have the willpower to refrain from strangling the life right out of him. "I don't think you know what truth really is, Cain—Bryce, or is it Bill or Dan? I don't even know your real name and that's because you've never told me the fucking truth. So, no! I won't listen to another goddamn thing that comes out of your lying mouth."

"Gage, I don't know who you talked to at the party but—"

"Alan Gerskin. Ring any bells for you, Bryce? That's who clued me in on your little fucking scam," I seethed. "He filled me in on your other career, said you were LA's finest back in the day. In fact, he claims you gave him the best blowjobs of his life. I'd say that's a job well done, brYCE."

"Stop calling me that," Cain demanded. "That's not who I am!"

"You mean you're not that person now—but you used to be," I corrected, and Cain didn't have a response to that statement. I finally took the turn into my driveway, stomped on the accelerator and sped up the small incline at a dangerous amount of speed since we were headed directly for the garage, then yanked up on the emergency brake, and cranked the steering wheel to my left to make the car slide sideways. The rear fender barely missed hitting one of the garage doors but I didn't care. I left the keys in the ignition, got out of the vehicle, then walked to the side door going into the kitchen with Cain right on my heels.

"Let's go inside and we can talk about this," Cain suggested, and I spun to face him. Again, I saw him recoil as if my fist would soon be hurtling through the air. The temptation was so close to the surface my knuckles itched to make it happen, but I refrained and stuffed my balled fist into my pocket instead.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen," I threatened. "You're going to go inside, collect your shit, and then call yourself an Uber to take you back to your condo. Got it? Good!"

I punched in the numbered code on the door lock box and kicked it open with my foot once the lock pinged. Then I pointed Cain inside and clomped my way around the side of house where a narrow deck connected to a much wider back deck that overlooked the city in the distance, an impressive yard by LA standards just beyond the decks. Unlike most home owners in this area, I actually had some space around my home—in addition to the five-star view. I sat my ass in a comfy chair and set my feet on top of the deck railing and sparked up a joint I had stored in my tuxedo jacket. I inhaled the first hit and held it in as long as I could before releasing it. Using one hand I managed to undo my bow tie and unbuttoned several buttons on the shirt. The chill in the air was a welcome relief. It took away some of the heat of my mood.

When the THC began to make my brain a little foggy I let my head loll back against the cushion behind my back. It was a perfect night with clear skies, which was a rarity being this close to the city. On most nights I was lucky to see any stars at all because of the near constant haze hanging overhead. Tonight, I saw far too much—not just in the sky—and I physically ached because of it. Sometimes reality sucked and tonight was definitely one of those occasions.

I was about halfway through smoking the joint when I heard soft footfalls on the deck behind me. I knew without looking it had to be Cain. The gait was too slow and unsure to be one of my phantom security guards. I had a few guards working there 24/7 but I hardly ever saw them. When I did see them it was because they wanted to be seen and their stride was always confident with an assured kind of swagger.

"Gage?" Cain asked reluctantly.

"Did you pack up your shit?" I asked.

"There wasn't much here," he answered. "Listen, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I wish you'd let me explain everything, but I understand you probably need time."

"What I need is for you to get the fuck off my property," I said without looking at him and with a nonchalance I didn't necessarily feel. I thanked the pot for mellowing me enough not to lunge out of my seat and physically drag Cain off my property. That was a win in my book. Cain would live to see another day but he'd be doing so without me.

"I only asked one thing of you, Bryce, and that was your honesty," I said when I sensed he was still lingering behind me. "It was a simple request and I don't believe for one second I was asking too much of you. But still you managed to keep one enormous elephant from your past a secret from me. And if memory serves me right, I specifically remember asking you, more than once, if you had anything in your past I should know about and you claimed there was nothing. Not one thing. So, you can imagine my surprise tonight. Can't you? When your little secret reared its ugly head right in my fucking face."

"Yes, of course I can, but if you let me explain. . ."

"Too late for explanations," I said. "The time for that was weeks ago, and if you had come clean then, I might have found a way to understand your reasons. I might have even understood the circumstances if you'd told me last week, but by allowing me to be blindsided at a formal event like you did tonight? That, my friend, is unforgivable, and it's not something you'd do to someone you claim to love. And to be clear, I'm not livid about what you did in your past—we all have sordid things we'd rather forget we did when we were young. It's the blatant lying you did about it—even after I asked about secrets. That's the part that has me so enraged I could spit nails. I'm not sure I could ever see beyond that or trust you again, which is why I need you to leave. Now."

"I do love you, Gage, and I'm so very sorry," Cain said in a shaky, whispered tone. "I never meant to hurt you or for this to happen."

"I'm sure you didn't mean for this to happen—but it did, and there's no way of going back in time and pretending it didn't."

"Gage. . ."

"Time to leave, Bryce," I said flatly. "I'll be sure you're fully compensated for collaborating on the album."

"You don't have to do that," he said.

"Yes, legally I do, and I will, but it will be Ray contacting you about that—not me."

"I'll leave now," Cain said after a silent moment.

"Yes, you do that," I replied.

I didn't fully relax until I heard the distant thud of a car door down on the main road before the sound of a vehicle driving away was swallowed up by the night and everything around me settled to silence. I stood up and leaned against the railing and finished the last few hits off the joint and snuffed it out on the railing and looked off toward the twinkling lights of Los Angeles. I thought about what happened tonight and how close I'd come to having everything I didn't know I wanted. I'd briefly held something precious in my palm before it blew away like dust. I guessed it was never meant to be mine. I reflected on how perfect Cain seemed to be as a partner for me and then the pain of betrayal seeped into my bones and the bitterness of reality kicked me in the nuts.

I screamed with everything I had left in me, roared so loudly I strained muscles bending backward to make sure every ounce of rage was sent up into the inky sky, then staggered back a step to flop into my seat again. I held my head in my hands and tried to stop the tremors of emotion from making my body quake while unshed tears burned at my eyes.

A few seconds passed and I sensed someone at both ends of the deck.

"Clear!" my guard, Gentry, yelled to his partner and then holstered his gun. A moment later his partner, Langley, called out, too.

"Clear!"

Gentry walked over to me and stood in my line of vision with his hands set on his hips.

"Mind telling me what the fuck is going on?" he asked.

"You talking about the scream?" I asked.

"For starters," Gentry said.

"I was releasing some pent up. . . stress," I explained.

"Is pent up stress also to blame for the Maserati being parked sideways in the driveway?" Langley asked.

"Nope, blind rage was the reason behind that," I admitted.

"Langley, go clear the house," Gentry directed.

"On it," Langley said as he retreated into the kitchen.

"Are you alone or is your friend inside the house?" Gentry questioned, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"No one's here," I said, "and I doubt you'll be seeing my friend around here anymore."

"Everything okay?" Gentry asked using a softer tone.

"It will be," I said even though I didn't believe my own words. I finally lifted my head and made eye contact with him.

"All right," Gentry said with a nod. "I'll move your car into the garage for you."

"House is clear," Langley said when he returned to the back deck.

"Then we'll leave you be," Gentry said.

"Have a good night," Langley added.

"Too late for that," I scoffed and watched them disappear into the darkness beside the deck.