“Was M2 like this earlier?” she asked her fiancé. Lex had never heard her son wail so loudly. She sat on the edge of her seat.
“Go…M2 hasn’t seen his madre since this morning. He misses you. He needs you.” Massimo spoke without judgment. But there was a thread, albeit slight, of concern in his deep voice.
Lex stood and made her way to the nursery.
The sweet whiff of baby powder filled her nostrils when she entered M2’s room. Just as Massimo overdid his cologne when he dressed and the garlic when he cooked, she often found the nursery clouded in talcum even hours after he’d changed M2’s diaper. Heavy-handed, in a loveable way, was one of her fiancé’s strong traits.
“Masi Junior…hi, baby.”
On his back, his mouth opened into the perfect ‘o’ as he caught his breath between cries.
Reaching for him, she reflected on what her mother said earlier, about being more available for her son. Should she resign as President and CEO at Easton Essentials? A company she’d brought to life? Right then, as M2 made eye contact with her and gave her a gummy grin, big and wide, she realized she was fortunate to be able to afford to stay at home if she chose to. Not every woman had the financial resources which were afforded to her. Lex figured she wasn’t resigning as businesswoman but taking on the role of mom.
Her career could wait for her.
Her little guy could not.
Chelsea
“Get out, Diego. You don’t live here anymore.” Blake couldn’t believe his ex-husband had gotten past security. Apparently, he knew the doorman on an intimate level. He was shocked when he had come home from The Dupree Club and found him in his gourmet kitchen, wearing his Gucci clothing and eating his Pringles. As if tonight couldn’t get any worse.
“Fucker, I told you I can’t go back to my place. The cops are lookin’ for me. I’m staying here for a while.” Diego locked the double doors which separated the foyer from the penthouse elevator. He stalked over to the living room windows, which illuminated an Eighth-Avenue view, and brought down the blinds as if he still lived there.
The penthouse, with its open floor plan and always-airy feel, suddenly filled with enclosing darkness…and fear.
“Did one of the guys come forward?” Blake held on to the granite counter for support. He didn’t know what to do, other than scream.
“A few have, yes.”
“Good,” he snapped, feeling a slight bit defiant.
“You wanna see me in jail?” Diego met his accusing words without a flinch. He brought his face in close, nose-tip to nose-tip. “Nice haircut.”
His breath reeked of the scotch Blake stocked in his bar. But it didn’t have the usual vanilla-caramel aroma he liked. The one he’d kiss him with after dinner back when he thought he was in love with him. No, Diego’s skin smelled of another kind of sweetness, the one which came when he smoked crystal meth.
“Don’t get in my face.” Anxiety chilled the angry fever boiling inside him.
He stared up and down at his ex-husband. Unrecognizable, Diego’s tall frame slouched forward, and his muscular body wasn’t as aspiring as it used to be. He wasn’t the Ivy League graduate who’d swept him off his feet ten years before, working a high-powered job on Wall Street, caring what people thought about him, and loving him. Now, his ex-husband appeared gaunt with sunken eyes, and it wasn’t the disease making him appear sick. No, it was the drugs, the guilt and the erotic game he’d played and so murderously lost.
“You’re not staying here.”
“Shut…up.”
Smack!
His cheek exploded with the burning sting of Diego’s hand across his face.
Instinctively, Blake’s stomach clenched tightly as sourness came over his tongue. But he reminded himself why he shouldn’t be afraid. Not anymore.
Taddy’s Glock pistol.
Disguised in a candy apple, vintage red Fendi Baguette, the gun was on the kitchen table, close and loaded. He’d never fired a Glock outside of their usual Lipstick & Lead Rifle range before.
In hope it wouldn’t come to threats of violence to get Diego out of his life, he opted for a less dramatic approach first. “If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police.” He pulled his cell from his back pocket, the screen light up.
Diego grabbed his wrist with one hand, sending a sharp pain up his arm. He snatched the cell with the other. Surprisingly, his grip was still strong.
“You aren’t callin’ anyone.” Thrown across the room, the LCD screen cracked on the marble floor. The bright neon light faded to black. “Why won’t you help me? What’s wrong with you? It’s not like you to turn your back on the ones you love!”
“I don’t love you. I can’t…help you.” Biting his lip, he looked away and hit the light switch for the overhead chandelier. The formal living room glowed brightly. He wasn’t going to be alone with his ex-husband in the darkness. Not when Diego was high. He knew better.
“Let me stay here ‘til I figure things out. A few days.”
“You’re killing people.” He swallowed hard, trying not to show the anger boiling inside him. The sweat around his hairline dripped down his face.
“No one is…dead.” Diego chuckled nastily. His wide, once-engaging eyes darkened into black dots.
“Not yet, but they will get sick.”
His words shamed Diego as his attention shifted to the floor. Seeing that as the opportunity, he made a run for the front door. His heart raced as he ran as fast as he could.
Diego came up right behind him, almost embracing him.
Trying to think of what to do next, he couldn’t give in. His hands held on to the doorknob as he faced the door. He wanted out. Please, just let me go. I’m going to kill you if you don’t.
“They begged for it.” Diego’s voice was unapologetic and steady.
Breathing down his neck he spoke into his ear, saying things which made him sick.
“My sex was hot for them. Why don’t you get that?” The denial flew off Diego like bullets ricocheting. His hands grabbed Blake’s shoulders, squeezing them painfully, right when he unlocked the deadbolt.
Blake turned around while opening the door. “You stay. I’ll leave.”
“No.” Diego slammed the door. Pulling his body into him, he groped his chest and arms.
Closing his eyes, he missed when those touches were good. When as a couple they were great together. But they weren’t anymore. The embrace felt cold to the touch, strange and threatening. “Don’t…”
Diego pulled him tighter into him.
In return, Blake pushed him, hard. Diego flew against the hallway wall, taking down a few hung photos. A picture of Vive with Thor at the beach in the Hamptons cracked when it landed on the floor. Impressed with his own strength, he’d never fought his ex-husband off before with such strong resistance.
Tall and angry, Diego stood there, no longer slouching but laughing. It was the evil cackle he’d heard in his nightmares.
“You wanna play?”
“No…”
“You got turned on when I got rough with you, didn’t you?”
“Never.” Blake shook his head vehemently.
“You always did like it dirty.”
Lunging for him, Diego grabbed him by the neck. His anger focused as his grip tightened.
He couldn’t breathe.
His head shook as his back was slammed up against the very wall where the pictures once hung. The plaster dented as a rush of pain shot through his head. He kicked Diego in the shin and then closed-fist punched him across the face. He’d never hit him before. Perversely, it felt good. Damn good.
Diego brought his right hand back and punched him in the head. Bright white, brilliant stars danced in his sight.
“You like it dirty. Admit it,” Diego hissed and slapped his face.
Copper, the taste of bitter metal filled his mouth as he swallowed. Fuck that hurt. “No one wants that…” He spit at him as his tears fell.
“Once you’re
bred, there’s nothing anyone can do for you.” Diego wiped the phlegm off his face as his jaw set. “You have to live with it, make the best of it.”
“By infecting others? You’re crazy.”
He went to spit at him again, but Diego slapped his face harder than before. A circle of iciness then heat ringed his mouth.
“Stop hitting me.” Blake swung at him, but lost his balance. He grabbed onto Diego’s shirt as they fell. His shoulder smashed against the floor and his breath flew from his lungs as Diego landed on top of him. Smothering him.
Gun. He had to get the gun.
“Get off me…Diego,” he grunted, trying to get free.
“I should’ve bred you when I had the chance.”
The intercom buzzed from downstairs. It filled Blake’s with hope. The lobby must’ve been trying to reach his condo. Thank God. Someone was there, for him.
“Help me! We’re in here. Help!” Blake screamed.
Diego tried to silence him by putting his fist over his mouth. His hands tasted like that chemical he shoved up his nose.
No one came.
With his free hand, Diego unfastened his belt and tore it loose. He wrapped the black leather strap around Blake’s neck so tight, so fast.
“Aah.” He tried to wedge his thumb under the leather strap. It was so tight. Too tight. Shit!
Fury blazed in Diego’s eyes as he choked him harder. “You are no different than me. You like it. Say it.”
Diego slammed his head against the marble floor. A piercing pain shot through him.
“No.” He sobbed, wanting to claw at Diego’s face but feared drawing blood.
“Say it.”
“Stop.”
“Say it!”
“I—like—it,” he appeased, hoping he’d get him to calm down. Then he’d make a run for it. But first he had to get Diego off him.
Unable to inhale, he couldn’t breathe. His lungs constricted with a tight pressure. Lightheaded and dizzy, he was about ready to pass out; he couldn’t take much more. But, did he have any energy left to fight? Absolutely. He rolled over onto his side and tried to get up.
Diego grabbed at him and held him down. “Not so fast.”
The pit in his stomach deepened. He elbowed Diego’s side with all his might causing the belt to come loose around his neck.
“You can’t leave,” he blew out a shallow breath, and hugged his abdomen.
Inch by inch, as best he could, he crawled toward the dining room table.
“Come here.” Diego jumped on his back, pushing all of his weight onto him.
Feeling defeated, he screamed as loud as he could. It was the only thing left to do. He’d worked out and lifted weights at the gym in hopes to overpower him, one day, but he couldn’t. Dammit, he couldn’t.
“Leave—stop!” he shouted louder.
Blue buttons popped, and the back of his shirt ripped off him as it if were a piece of paper. Something was suddenly stuffed in his mouth, the material drying up his tongue as it was wedged down his throat then knotted behind his head.
A burst of oxygen went through his nose as he tried to inhale. Tears choked him.
He’s going to kill me.
Diego wouldn’t quit. Not then. Not ever.
The front door slammed open and next thing he knew, the pressure of Diego was lifted from his back.
Blake despair transformed into relief when he turned. “Miguel.” His best friend picked Diego up as if he were a throw pillow.
“Santana.” On his feet, Diego acted meek and curled into himself.
Without any warning he suddenly turned around and punched Miguel in the face, striking his right eye. He fell back against the living room wall. One of his paintings hit the floor in a loud crash.
The gun. I have to get the gun.
Trying to get his footing, his body aching, he went for the Fendi. Together they could take Diego down.
Miguel lunged at Diego and punched him back. Loud thumps echoed in the room as he beat his face over and over again.
Blood spurted as Diego backed up, putting his hand up for him to stop.
“Come on!” Miguel shouted for him to continue. “Let’s go.”
“Stop, Mig. Don’t touch him. He’s bleeding.”
Diego’s face colored fiercely beneath the bruising coming out.
“So what?” Miguel’s brows came down in puzzlement.
“He’s positive.”
Miguel stepped back. His face twisted. “He has HIV?”
“Yes. Don’t touch him.”
“Call the police, Blake,” Miguel ordered.
“Don’t fuckin’ call anyone!”
Just as he started to retreat, Diego picked up a crystal lamp with a solid brass base from the nearby end table. He brought the fixture up high in the air. The cord snapped free from the outlet and the light blinked off as he swung at Miguel as if he were lightning striking.
“No!” Blake reached for the Fendi. Opening the zipper, he couldn’t pull the Glock out fast enough as he heard the loud thud of the lamp against Miguel’s skull.
Diego’s arms came wide for a second swing, Miguel lying limp on the floor.
“I’ll shoot you.”
The cool metal tightened in Blake’s hands. He released the safety switch.
Frozen, his ex-husband glared at him. He wiped the blood from his face, his expression growing serious. “You can’t shoot me. It’s me…you love me.”
“Drop the lamp and get away from Miguel.”
Imposing iron control over the gun, he approached Diego with a new level of confidence. He was no longer his ex-lover. He was a target.
He cocked the pistol and aimed for Diego.
“It’s loaded, you piece of shit.” He grinned with even more confidence when the whites of Diego's eyes widened.
As a kid, his favorite TV show growing up was reruns of Cagney & Lacey. He used to pretend to be Christine when he played guns with his cousins out in the Fairfield County woods. Often they picked on him, had called him a faggot for wanting to be a female cop. That night, the spirit of Christine Cagney was in hands. He was in charge now. “I said move!”
Diego Oalo’s Demise
Miguel’s head throbbed. An intense pressure in his ears made it so he could barely hear. Shaking his head in dazed confusion, he caught Blake shouting. That much he could make out.
He sat up. The room lit florescent and bright. A gun—pointed at Diego. Instantly, he came to with a tight panic. No, Blake…
The crystal lamp hit the floor and broke. Diego put his hands up and stepped forward. “You love me. You’d never shoot me.” Ridicule loaded his words.
Diego had been playing Blake for quite some time. He seemed to enjoy the emotional struggle Blake was having with himself. He was so very fragile, and Miguel could see it now, in that moment. Mad at himself for not fully grasping this earlier, he realized his friend had been breaking down for some time. His demons were unimaginable. He wasn’t sure he still understood them fully.
“Don’t talk to me about love! You don’t know what love is.” Blake stared at Diego as if he was going to shoot him. “Look at our lives! You’ve ruined them.” He lowered the gun, squinted his left eye, and said, “I’ll never forgive you for the harm you’ve caused.”
Was he aiming at Diego’s cock?
“Here’s a favor for all the boys in this town!”
No doubt Blake wanted him to pay for what he’d done, but he couldn’t hurt a soul. Could he? Revenge and murder didn’t embody Blake Morgan III. He was gentle, caring, and right then, hurt. Miguel, however, was more worried about Diego at the moment. If he gained control of the gun, there was no telling what would happen.
“Give me the gun.” Miguel broke the concentration of their argument. Slowly he approached, putting himself back in the situation.
Blake’s eyes widened, glancing up at him as if unsure of what he was doing. “You have no clue what Diego did, hosting those breeding parties.”
&nb
sp; “They wanted—”
“Shut up! You went too far. You always do. So help me God, I’ve let this go on for far too long.”
Bam. Blake’s right hand jerked as the gun fired a bullet. It grazed Diego’s thigh.
“Fuck! You faggot!” he screamed. His weight shifted onto one leg.
Miguel saw the bullet stuck in the white wall behind him. He’d missed. Well, sort of. The front of Diego’s pants darkened as the smell of urine filled the air and the man cried for Blake to stop.
Okay, Blake would kill him. This wasn’t murder or revenge, but justice, at least from his point of view. Miguel was wrong. He did have it in him. Shit!
“I’m going to blow your cock off, Diego.” Blake’s fingers tightened on the trigger as his arm straightened.
“For me, bebé, don’t.” Miguel took another step closer. He couldn’t let his friend spend the rest of his life in jail.
“Move, Mig. Get out of my way. I have to.”
Click. Blake cocked the gun.
All he could stare at was the barrel of the gun as he closed the distance between them. “Sí, give me the gun.” He lowered his face to Blake’s. “Look at me.” He needed to see his friend’s blue eyes making contact with his. They were possessed, filled with rage. It was as if Blake didn’t recognize him. Miguel surely didn’t recognize him.
“I want Diego to turn himself in.” Pupils dilated and cheeks reddened, Blake bit down on his lower lip and gasped loudly, shaking his head as the tears fell.
“That’s it, bebé. Breathe. This isn’t your fault.”
“Diego, did you fucking hear me?” Blake wiped his nose with his forearm while holding on to the gun. Diego stood perfectly still, crying. “If Mig won’t let me shoot you, I want you to turn yourself in to the police station.”
“You win…I’ll turn myself in,” Diego said.
“I’m right here. You’re okay. Give me the gun.”
Blake surrendered the gun into Miguel’s hands. The steel felt foreign and odd.
As Miguel’s concentration focused on turning the safety on, he heard Diego making a commotion.
“He’s getting away!” Blake shouted.