15. Basher
BASHER
The heat from the flames in the firepit danced across Basher’s face. It was just after ten. The stars were out, and the fire was roaring in his backyard.
Basher poked a log with his “poking stick” and watched as several embers burst in the air, pissed that he had disturbed their quiet slumber.
Dance for me, bitches. Dance, he sang in his mind.
Basher wasn’t a pyro by any means. He just liked watching the flames dance and the wood crackle as it gave way to heavier logs that lay above them.
Reaching for his beer, he took a sip, then set it back down in the arm of his chair.
Now this was the life.
Quiet. Relaxing. Drama-free.
He could get used to this. He liked the peace and quiet much better than the loud chaos of Vegas.
Perhaps he might just transfer here permanently. He hadn’t heard anything recently from his boss regarding the hit Caplan had put out on him. Maybe the wimpy fuck of a kid finally grew a pair and moved on with his life.
The crunch of a twig behind him caught his attention. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled when he saw Cameron walking into his yard.
“Hey, what’s up?” Basher asked, turning his body so he could see the handsome bartender as he crossed the yard and took a seat in the empty chair he had beside him.
He wasn’t sure why he had the chair sitting there. It wasn’t like Basher was expecting any company. He didn’t exactly do evening beers with the guys.
“Hope you don’t mind me stopping by like this. I just didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
Basher sat forward and studied the young man’s face. “Is everything okay? Did somebody hurt you?”
He clenched his fists as he waited for the name of the man he was about to murder.
Cameron gave him an unenthusiastic half smile. “No, nobody hurt me. Not physically, anyway.”
Basher hated seeing the boy so down. Normally, Cameron was all smiles and rainbows, bubbly and chatty.
But now? Now he was all mellow and quiet. It was like someone had sucked all the color from his rainbow.
Eyes still locked on Cameron’s, Basher reached into the cooler next to him and fished out a beer. He popped off the top, then passed it to Cameron.
“Thanks, man. I hate showing up like this, but I… I just couldn’t go home and sit all alone right now.”
“Hey, bud. Anything that you need. I know I don’t say much, but I’ve been told I’m a great listener.”
The corner of Cameron’s mouth lifted in a grin as he let out a soft chuckle.
That was a good sign.
Cameron took a sip of his beer, then crossed his legs as he stared into the fire.
He was dressed in tight blue jeans and a simple black shirt. Cool and stylish, yet down-to-earth and relaxed. No matter what Cameron wore, the guy always looked cute as shit.
They both sat in silence for several minutes. Cameron stared into the fire while Basher watched him from the corner of his eye.
He got the sense that Cameron wanted to say something; he just needed some time to collect his thoughts.
"My mom has Alzheimer's,” Cameron announced without any warning or segue.
Basher’s breath caught in his chest. He was caught off guard by the gravity of his confession. Something this important and sensitive needed to be handled with care and patience.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Basher said in a low, calming voice.
He wanted to give Cameron the time and space he needed to process what he wanted to say, without pushing him for more details.
“I just came from visiting her at the assisted living home. That’s where I keep her. Such a great son, I know.” The pain and hurt in his voice were clear. This was not something that Cameron took lightly.
Eyes still locked on the fire, Cameron took another sip of his beer, clearly trying to choke down the words he wanted to say.
Basher reached over and placed his hand on Cameron’s. The boy looked down at where their hands were joined and let out the softest of smiles.
He wanted to offer support and let him know he was here whenever he was ready to talk.
They continued to sit in silence for another moment.
This was all about Cam and what Cam needed.
“Sometimes I see her, and she’s the mom I grew up with.
The mom who worked three part-time jobs, trying to make ends meet and keep a roof over our heads.
Other days, she slips back in time and doesn’t recognize me.
To her, I’m still that ten-year-old kid who fell off his bike and scraped his knee.
She doesn’t see the twenty-five-year-old man who cooked dinner with her two nights ago, laughing and making jokes. ”
Cameron wiped his nose and took another swig of his beer, his eyes fixed on the fire as if drawing strength from its warmth—something to steady him as he pushed through what needed to be said.
Basher tightened his hold on Cameron’s hand, hoping to give the boy some of his strength and courage.
A small smile tugged at the corners of Cameron’s mouth. He placed his hand over Basher’s and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“I go to visit my mom at least three times a week. It gets hard to see her sometimes. Especially on nights like tonight, when her mind pulls away, and she doesn’t recognize me.”
“I can only imagine how hard that must be. Especially when it’s someone you care about so deeply,” Basher noted, giving Cameron’s thigh a little squeeze.
“Are you close with your family?” Cameron asked, still staring into the fire.
“I don’t have a family.”
Cameron’s face turned toward his. “What do you mean?”
“I grew up in the foster system. My mom was a drug addict, and I spent my whole life bouncing around from one family to the next.”
“Why did you bounce around so much?”
Basher shrugged as he took a sip of his beer.
So much for a nice, quiet, drama-free night.
His night was quickly turning into a two-man therapy session.
Thankfully, he had a fridge full of beer.
“People found it hard to love my sparkling personality,” Basher added dryly.
The joke tasted hollow the moment it left his mouth. A lump formed in his throat as memories of his childhood came rushing back, bringing with them emotions he'd spent years trying to bury.
Cameron squeezed his hand, pulling his focus once again. It was now Cameron’s turn to lend his strength and support.
“It’s just because people weren’t able to see the real you buried under all that roughness and armor. It took me a bit to see through the cracks, but now that I do, there’s no way I’m stopping until I get to see the real you—the whole Basher package.”
Basher began to chuckle.
“Okay, that sounded extremely sexual… but also really hot.” Cameron laughed as well.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” Basher added, reaching into the cooler and opening another beer for his friend.
They continued to talk well into the night. Cameron shared stories from his youth, struggling to grow up as an out teen, then having to deal with his mother’s early onset of Alzheimer’s.
Basher listened to Cameron talk. He loved seeing the excitement on Cameron’s face when he talked about the adventures he’d had over the years, including meeting Ace and Lucas, and why he decided to come to Baton, New Mexico, in the first place.
Cameron tried asking him about his past, but he wasn’t ready to fully open up just yet. Eventually getting the message, Cameron shifted the focus back to them and how Basher enjoyed working with Marcus so far.
It was just after one in the morning when Basher came back outside after taking the world’s longest piss, only to find Cameron asleep in his chair.
Smiling, Basher reached down and scooped the sleeping stud out of the chair and carried him back into his house. He would give Cameron his bed while he slept on the sofa.
Carefully, he lowered Cameron onto the bed, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from his eyes.
He looked so peaceful sleeping in Basher’s large, comfy bed.
He debated whether to remove Cam’s clothing to make him more comfortable, but given that Cameron had fallen asleep unintentionally, Basher thought it best to leave his clothes on. You know, consent and all that sort of stuff.
While it might not matter to him whether some cute guy undressed his tired, sleeping ass, he couldn’t assume that Cameron would feel the same way.
“Good night, Cam,” Basher whispered, gently kissing the top of his sleeping head.
This strange feeling of want lingered inside his chest. He wanted more than anything to slip in beside Cam and cuddle him for the remainder of the night.
He’d never had that desire before. But there was something about the boy’s sweet nature, his kind heart, and loving smile that just made Basher want to be near him… always.
Slowly, he straightened from the bed and took a step back toward the door.
Cameron let out a moan.
“Stay…” his sleepy voice whispered.
“You want me to stay with you?” Basher asked, unsure whether he had heard the boy right.
“Yes…” Cameron responded without opening his eyes.
Walking around the bed, Basher pulled off his shirt, then took off his jeans. He slid in next to Cam in nothing but his boxer briefs.
Cam reached behind himself and pulled Basher’s arm over his body.
Taking a deep breath, Basher snuggled closer and wrapped his arms around Cameron, drawing him firmly against his chest. The boy melted into his embrace, letting out a soft moan that warmed something deep inside him.
Tucking his head up against Cam’s, he held him close, listening to his breathing as he drifted off to sleep.