SNEAK PEAK
OUR DEBUT NOVEL
CHAPTER 1
RYAN
“Hey man, congratulations, ” Gavin, my boss, slaps me hard on the shoulder, a delicate glass of champagne sloshing in his massive spade hand. I’m pretty sure he has been carrying that around with him all night as an accessory, since the guy doesn't even drink.
I'm standing in the middle of the Inner City Annual PRIDE Art Show. The art show that my boyfriend convinced me to do. The art show I’ve spent the last five months preparing for with a collection of pride inspired superheroes, with awesome tattoos of course. The art show my boyfriend didn’t bother to show up for. Thankfully Gavin closed the Tattoo shop I work at, Savage Ink, early for the night so that all the guys, and Nyx could come see my show and support me. Yet, my boyfriend of two years couldn’t find the time in his busy schedule to show up. I’m not sure why I'm even surprised at this point. This isn't the first time I've been left waiting for Drew to grace me with his presence recently.
Just last week we agreed to meet for dinner at a restaurant near his office, so he could nip out for a lunch date with me. I sat in that restaurant for over an hour waiting for him, chewing on breadsticks and calling his phone which kept rudely telling me “this call can not be connected” as I was staring at the door, scowling at every person that entered. Eventually, the server asked for the third time if I was ready to order and that was the cue for me to give up and go home. I'm not sure what time he came home that night, but when I woke up there was a note on the kitchen counter telling me he had to go to Utah for a few days. “Love you sweetheart. I'll be back as quick as I can.'' That was all I got, some lousy note, not even an apology. It’s becoming a pattern with him and I fucking hate it.
Tonight's art show is the annual charity event for the LQBTQ+ Youth Centre in downtown Denver. The aim of the evening is to gather works of art done by local artists to sell to the community and all proceeds go to the center. As expected it is a huge success, all of the artwork being sold, including my illustrations. Apparently the people of Denver like graphic comic style art. BoneRider, the unofficial name of the piece, was the first one bought today.
I wasn’t planning on doing this show originally, but Drew kept going on and on about how I was depriving people of my talent being displayed on their walls. I just never imagined myself as a canvas type of artist, but I am super proud of the work I've done for this show. And I wanted to express my gratitude to Drew in front of all these people for pushing me to do this, by giving some kind of a soppy speech he would probably groan at. He’s not here, though, and what's worse is that he's missing the chance to see these kids from the center all hyped as hell knowing that the money raised tonight will get them, I don’t even know what? A basketball court? Or maybe even a kick-ass art room. This is probably the most fulfilling thing I've ever done in my life. If only there had been a place like that when I was growing up.
For the first hour I kept glancing back at the door every few minutes expecting him to rush in late, hair mussed from the wind and a flush of embarrassment tinging his cheeks, muttering the same bullshit apology that I'm sick of hearing at this point. But at least he would have shown up… better late than never, right? I mean, Ben, his colleague at the firm, is here, and he even bought a Quick Rimmer to show support. I mean HE doesnt know it's called that. They wouldn't allow me to actually name the illustrations, kids being there and all. But it doesn't stop me from stifling a laugh when he compliments the way I drew the character’s tongue sticking out with a tattoo of a star on it.
When I asked him, casually of course, if he knew where Drew was, he just frowned slightly “He was elbow deep in documents when I was heading out. I offered to help but he wouldn't have it, so it could take him awhile. I’m sorry man. I know he was excited for tonight. He mentioned it a bunch of times. He wouldn't miss it, right?”
Unfortunately, Ben was dead wrong… Drew never showed. He missed the whole fucking thing. I could tell the guy felt guilty as he came to congratulate me once again before leaving with good old Quick Rimmer tucked under his arm. I could see the pity in his eyes as he waved goodbye. I could see the pity in my friends’ eyes, too, as they left me in the now empty gallery space.
I expected to go home with Drew, but now, standing here, my hands stuffed into the pockets of my jeans, I feel like a kid whose parents forgot to pick him up from softball practice as I ask Gavin for a ride home. Thankfully, Gav is a man of few words by nature so the drive back to my place is quiet, except for the low chatter from the radio. I know he can tell how bummed I am about Drew’s noticeable absence tonight but he doesn’t bring it up, obviously wanting to avoid a conversation about feelings as much as I do.
Arriving home to a dark, empty house after the event, there’s no sign of Drew’s Volvo in the driveway, which isn’t a surprise. Since Drew was a no show at the gallery, I figured he was sleeping at his office, yet again choosing to sleep cramped on a hard leather couch rather than coming home to his bed and his boyfriend. Not that he even notices he has a boyfriend when he’s at home. Ever tried to watch a movie with your significant other while they type furiously on their laptop cursing under their breath? That's a one star review. Also, it's kind of disrespectful to the cinematic masterpiece that is End Game .
Waving behind me to thank Gav for dropping me home, resisting the urge to yell “Thanks, Mr Jefferson,” I climb up the wooden porch steps and unlock the front door. With a heavy sigh, I walk inside and take off my boots leaving them strewn across the entrance hall like some act of teenage defiance but also because I don't want to track any dirt onto the ridiculously expensive rug in the living room that I just had to have when we first went shopping together. I have so many regrets about that now, the main one being my credit card nearing its limit, although it is super soft to kneel on. I figured that out in the best way possible when we first brought it home a year ago.
I stand and stare at the rug for a second. “Hell, for all I know, he’s standing on somebody else's expensive rug right now.” The words spilled from my mouth, having clearly skipped the filter in my brain before falling from my lips. The thought stops me in my tracks at the base of the stairs. I haven't seen my boyfriend properly in days, weeks probably. The nights he does drag himself home to bed, I'm already passed out and the only way I can tell he’s been there is the mess at his side of the bed the next morning, already cold from his early exit.
I'm too tired to be pissed right now. I should be so fucking pissed that I’d march right into his office and demand he gets his head out of his ass. But I don’t, because what would be the point? Besides, I doubt I could muster enough willpower to put my boots back on, never mind haul myself halfway across town for an argument that always ends the same way, with me accepting that I come second to his career. Standing at the base of the stairs looking up into the darkness toward the bedroom we share, I realize I’m not mad about tonight. I’m not mad because on some level I expected him to let me down and I expected it because it’s how things have been for the last … fuck, eight months maybe. I’m starting to believe that he will never put me first.
I’m probably more pissed at myself than I am with Drew right now because I made so many promises to myself that I wouldn't go through this again. I wouldn't become somebody’s doormat again. Yet all I've done for the last eight months is accept his behavior, brushing it under the expensive rug to avoid confrontation.
I know Drew isn't my ex, although they have similarities, like being driven and charming. Joshua was just as confident in pursuing me as Drew, lulling me into a false sense of security with grand romantic gestures and overwhelming me with love, until one day, I woke up and realized I had nobody but him in my life. He had managed to isolate me from my family and friends, making me believe that they were all just jealous of us and wanted us to break up. I’m not even sure how it happened or the exact moment that my brain decided that his word was gospel, but what started off as a fairy tale love for the ages, ended with me becoming a shell of the man I was before. A man my friends barely recognised. Who I barely recognized.
I justified so much of Josh's bad behavior to myself and others for so many years, so I could try and avoid his vicious, callus tongue. Everything had to be Josh’s way, or Josh's preference. I never had a voice of my own. I fucking swore to myself I wouldn't allow a man to manipulate me like that again, to take away my voice. And although I know how different from him Drew is, I can’t help feeling that I’m falling into the same pattern by accepting bullshit behavior and having the need to justify it to others. Why does history keep repeating itself? Blowing out a breath I climb the stairs and head to bed, alone, again.
“I’m so fucking done with this!”
After a long night of tossing and turning and waking up to check if Drew came home, I finally crawl out of bed at 10 a.m. . Walking downstairs, I look around for any sign that Drew was actually here, but nope, nothing. Everything is as I left it last night including my boots still laying haphazardly on the entrance way floor. Heading in to the kitchen I start up the coffee machine and wait for it to pour my much needed anti-murder juice while trying to muster up the anger I know I should feel. Or the crippling pain people feel when they realize the world they built for themselves is about to come crashing down around them like a cheap house of cards–for the second time.
When am I going to learn that I can't rely on anybody else, no matter how pretty their words of love are. I mean, I should’ve learned from an early age that trust and love are about as real as unicorns or Santa Clause, given that my asshole father also decided that his career was far more important than his wife and kid.
Sighing again I rest both hands on the side of the counter and lower my head. “I can’t do this anymore. I need to leave before things get worse, right?” I whisper to myself but in the emptiness of the house the words echo back at me. Maybe I could’ve done more, tried to explain better the way I was feeling, but Drew is so focused on his goals that it wouldn't have mattered. . I still hear his words from every other time I tried to tell him about the alarm bells going off in my head.
“Just a few more months, Ryan. I know it’s shitty right now but just a few more months.”
“This is important, Ryan. Can’t you see how close I am to making partner?”
That's really what it always comes down to, right? How important it is that he makes partner … and not that he has a partner.
So really, is my world going to be much different? I’ve pretty much been alone for eight months now, and this isn't the first time I've had to start over after my heart has been ripped out of my chest and microwaved. It should be a walk in the park at this point, like muscle memory. I can't even remember the last time Drew and I did something as a couple. So I might as well be single and living alone. . I’m used to the empty bed by now and could probably get more action from Grindr hookups than I get from Drew lately. Fuck, how did we get here? How did we lose the spark we had from the very moment we met?