The Other Man Read online

  The Other Man

  Tarot Series: Six of Swords

  D. J. Manly

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Other Man

  Copyright © 2007 D. J. Manly

  ISBN: 1-55410-984-1

  Cover art and design by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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  Six of Swords

  Kendall’s lover has just left him after seven years. He is wallowing in despair, but something new is on the horizon, something he couldn’t have foreseen.

  Chapter one

  Andrew and George sat up talking with him half the night after Charlie had left. Kendal was in shock. It had come completely out of left field really. Charlie just up and announced that he was leaving him after seven years. Andrew and George had been their best friends for years, and they were just as shocked as he was.

  Kendal lifted the glass of whiskey George had poured him, and took a swig. It burned like fire going down, and made him cough. George took the glass away from him, and brought him tea instead. He’d never been much of a drinker. “I can’t even get that right,” Kendal moaned.

  “You stop that,” Andrew scolded him. “It was nothing that you did. Charlie just has the seven year itch, that’s all.”

  “The seven year what?” Charlie croaked, wrinkling up his nose.

  “You know, the itch…the itch in the pants.”

  George sighed, shaking his head.

  “He did say he had another man, didn’t he?” Andrew protested.

  “Some fantasy man,” Kendal scoffed. “Said he was the man of his dreams, couldn’t stop thinking about him, and if he didn’t go for it now, he’d always be wondering.”

  “Anyone we know?” Andrew probed.

  He took a breath, and removed his steamed up glasses, and shook his head. “Said his name was…ah…Aaron, I think.”

  “Nice name. Where did he meet him?” Andrew asked.

  “Charlie has been hanging out at that fancy club downtown, you know the one they built last year, called Contact, all the Hollywood crowd are going there now. It’s mixed, gay and straight.” He blew his nose.

  “You never told us that?” George said, sitting down beside him.

  “Once in awhile, on the weekends he’d go in, just for a drink, meet some friends there from the studio. It became a hangout after work. I didn’t mind. He’d be back by seven or so. I didn’t want to stop him from seeing his friends.”

  “And this is where he met this…ah, Aaron?”

  He nodded miserably. “So he says.”

  “Well, I say you’re better off without him,” Andrew announced suddenly.

  “Shut up, Andy,” his partner told him. “I’m sorry, Kendal.”

  “It’s okay. I just don’t know how I’m going to go on without him. It will seem strange. It looks like I’ll end up alone now.”

  “Why do you say that?” Andrew reached over and slapped his leg. “There’ll be someone else.”

  Kendal nodded with a slight smile, but he knew differently. He and Charlie had met at university. They had been doing their graduate degrees at the time; Charlie in cinematography, and he in communications. They had been in their late twenties then, having gone back to school after working at crappy jobs for a few years. Kendal was going to be thirty five next month. He’d never considered himself extraordinarily handsome; although people told him he had nice eyes. After settling down with Charlie, and taking a sedentary job as a book editor, he had put on a few pounds around the middle. There was nothing outstanding about him. He didn’t have a smooth, sculptured body. There was no way he could compete out there in the gay world, where the emphasis was on beauty. Nor did he want to. What he lived with Charlie was a very ordinary life. They had ordinary sex, went on ordinary vacations, worked, watched television, and shared their problems. That’s all he’d ever wanted. Now, Charlie suddenly wanted something else…a vision…a fucking fantasy boy.

  By the time Andrew and George had left, Kendal’s sadness had turned to anger. He was firing mad. How dare Charlie treat him like this after all this time? He’d stood by him when he was looking for work, supported his ass, held his hand when he found out one of his former lovers had AIDS and he had to go for an AIDS test. Now, he left him high and dry? And all for a fantasy. And this fantasy man…he bet that all the guy wanted was a good lay. He didn’t care about what he and Charlie had built together. He didn’t care that he was ruining his life, taking away his future. Well, if Charlie was going to sell their lives down the river for a fantasy, he was at least going to find out who this fantasy boy was, and let him know just what he thought of him. He was probably someone who was sniffing around for a part in a movie… thought that Charlie had some influence with the producer…some little twink on steroids with a bubble butt, and a ballerina slipper in his crotch. Well, he had a few choice words for him.

  * * * *

  All week Kendal contemplated paying a visit to that club Charlie hung out in. The following Friday evening after work, Kendal decided to do it. He stood in front of the mirror at home and fussed over what he would wear for almost two hours. He didn’t like these places. They were meat markets. He had no idea how people dressed there, but if he ran into Charlie, he wanted to look nice. He settled on a pair of neatly pressed charcoal dress pants, and a black shirt. It made him look thinner, although he wasn’t really fat by any measure. He just carried a little bit extra around the middle and on the hips. Charlie called them love handles, but he was a little self conscious about it. He shaved, and applied some aftershave, then, ended up wiping half of it off, deciding it was overdone. His light brown hair was thick, cut at the collar, and it curled a little at the bottom, which bugged him. He combed it back over his ears, and put his glasses back on, the modern kind without the frames on the bottom that Charlie had talked him into getting. “They show off your eyes,” he had said. They’d cost him a fortune.

  With a sigh, he grabbed his wallet and his car keys. He’d been all fired up before getting ready, and now as he parked his Toyota in the parking garage near the club, he was starting to hesitate about this decision. If Charlie was in there with his new lover, what would that be like? Could he handle it? He didn’t want Charlie to think he was running after him. He got to the door, then turned around and walked all the way back to the parking lot. He sat in his car for a few minutes, then, got out again. To hell with Charlie. He had a right to walk into that place, didn’t he? It was a free world.

  The club was white alabaster, and ran the entire length of the street. There was a painting of a huge palm tree on the side of it, and a sign which said simply, Contact. “Yeah, contact what, is what I’d like to know,” Kendal sputtered under his breath.

  A few people started to walk in, two ladies and a man. They smiled at him, holding the door. Some rock tune blared out onto the street. He smiled back at them nervously, then nodded, and grabbed the doo
r. With his heart hammering in his chest, he shuffled in behind them.

  There was a man at the door, and Kendal dug into his pockets. There was no admission, but people seemed to be tipping him. The couple before him handed him a fifty dollar bill. Kendal only had twenties. He pressed one of the bills into his hand. The doorman lifted an eyebrow. “The last of the big fucking spenders,” he muttered. “Go on in, buddy, have yourself a ball.”

  Kendal sucked in some breath. What a charmer. Kendal stepped forward apprehensively. The place was packed with people. The dance floor was flooded, and people were crowded around several different bars, trying to get served. Each bar was for something different. There was a tequila bar, a beer bar, and a whiskey bar. Hell. Kendal stopped at the first one he came to. It was the tequila bar. He looked around him. There were beautiful people everywhere, in tight clothes, dancing close, or dancing alone. People bumped into him, elbowed past him to the bar. He must have said ‘excuse me’ ten times.

  When he heard someone say his name, he turned around. It was Robbie Townsend. He was one of the guys on the production crews at the studio. He worked with Charlie. “Kendal? What in the world are you doing here?” He was laughing. Apparently, he thought something was funny.

  “Well, I came out for a drink, that’s all. Why, I’m not allowed to be here?”

  “Sure you are, just that Charlie said this wasn’t your scene.”

  The music was loud, the base pumped into his ears. It was hard to hear. Kendal shrugged. “Is Charlie here, by the way?” He tried to sound nonchalant.

  “Not yet. Haven’t seen him. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

  Kendal followed Robbie Townsend over to the tequila bar. Some of Charlie’s co-workers were there. They all said hello to him, looking surprised. The first glass of tequila he had went down hard. Robbie gave him some salt and a piece of lemon to bite into. They found a table, and started doing tequila shots. Robbie pocked Kendal in the ribs. “Come on,” he said. “I’m buying. Drink up.”

  The second one went down easier. Kendal wasn’t sure how many little tiny glasses of that stuff he drank, but the room was beginning to spin around. “So,” he sputtered suddenly, “where is Charlie anyway? With his slut?”

  Robbie paused in mid drink. “You know about that?”

  “Of course,” he muttered, lifting the tiny glass in the air. “To my ex lover, and his cute little Twink, may they live happily ever after in paradise.”

  The others all laughed.

  Robbie leaned close to him, and said in his ear. “So, he left you eh? I told him he was being an idiot to give up something he had with you that was certain, for something that is…”

  “So, where is this whore,” Kendal growled, cutting him off, “the one who stole my life from me? I want to see him. I want to see his face.” He struggled to his feet.

  Robbie rose with him. He put a hand on his forearm. “Why don’t you let it go for tonight, Kendal? You’re drunk and in no shape to…”

  Kendal yanked his arm away. “Is he here? Where is he? Point me in his direction.”

  “Kendal, no,” Robbie said. “I don’t think…”

  Suddenly, one of the other guys at the table said. “You looking for Charlie’s walking wet dream? He just came in. He’s standing over there at the whiskey bar. His name is…”

  “I know his God damned name,” Kendal said between clenched teeth. “Aaron. His name is A..ir…ron…”

  The other guy laughed. “His last name is Radcliff. Go get him, Tiger.”

  “That’s not funny, Marty,” Robbie snapped at the other guy, trying to hold on to Kendal at the same time. “He’s drunk. He’s in no shape to…”

  Kendal pulled away from Robbie. He stumbled back, knocking over the chair in the process. Some song about wasted love was playing. “Let me at him,” Kendal roared, heading across the dance floor, bumping into every second person he met. He focussed his eyes on the sign overhead in the distance which said whiskey bar, and kept moving. He wasn’t sure what this asshole looked like, but he’d find him. How many Aaron’s could there be standing at the whiskey bar? Aaron…what did that guy say his last name was…Ratcliff? He was a rat alright.

  Suddenly, he found himself standing in front of that whiskey bar. There were a few men standing around, drinking, some more on the other side. Kendal walked up to the first guy. “I’m looking for a rat,” he muttered, “an Aaron Ratcliff, rat…you know him?”

  The guy peered at him. “Who?”

  Kendal waved him away as if he were waving at an annoying fly. He staggered a bit, pausing at the group of three men nearby. One of them was twink-like, skinny, blond. That could be him. “Are you Aaron Ratcliff?”

  The other two guys started to laugh. The blond shook his head. “My name’s Tommy. Who you looking for, a rat?”

  “Yeah, a rat, the rat Charlie left me for. Never mind,” he said, his stomach feeling queasy. “I’ll find him. He can’t hide for long.”

  “Good luck,” someone called after him. There was an eruption of laughter.

  Kendal placed a hand on the bar, and walked around to the other side. There were two people standing there. One was an older man, around sixty, dressed in an expensive suit. The other was absolutely beautiful. He was facing forward, leaning against the bar, his head turned toward the older guy, deeply engrossed in conversation. He was tall, with that smooth, sleek, muscular body that Kendal saw in all the magazines. His hair was dark, layered back over his ears, falling to his shoulders. He had on a pair of well worn jeans, and an open navy cotton shirt without sleeves, nothing underneath. He was laughing about something, the guy in the suit was laughing with him, trying to light a cigarette.

  Kendal placed his hands on his hips. “Either one of you know an Aaron Rat?” By this time he had forgotten the cliff part altogether. His glasses were smudged and he whipped them off his face, squinting at the men.

  “Who?” The older man enquired, taking a drag of his cigarette.

  “Aaron…his name is Aaron Rat something or other.” Kendal walked up to the bar, and reached out a hand to steady himself. He was feeling really sick all of a sudden, but before this night was over, he was going to find the man who had ruined his life.

  “Whoa, buddy,” the younger man said. “You look like you’ve had a few too many there.”

  “Do you know him, or not?” He found himself looking into the bluest eyes.

  “My name is Aaron, Aaron Radcliff. You’re not looking for me, are you?” He laughed.

  Kendal’s face hardened. “You.” He pointed at him, poking him in the chest. The guy made a face, and reared back to avoid getting poked again with Kendal’s finger. “You.” He ran his gaze over him. He shook his head, moving around in front of him. “You homo wreaker…”

  “What?”

  “I said…you’re a home fucker…you stole my Charlie.”

  “I stole your who?”

  “Charlie,” he growled. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. I bet you put a ballerina slipper in your pants too….” Kendal glanced at the bulge in Aaron's jeans.

  Aaron Radcliff laughed. “Friend, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Ballerina slipper,” he repeated, pointing to his groin.

  The guy’s eyes widened a bit, and looked down at his own pants. “What?” He started to laugh.

  “Bubble butt…that’s all you are,” Kendal accused, seeing double of him now. “We were together seven years, Charlie and me. Do you know…no, men who look like you don’t understand loving, committed…what ever….you just understand fucking and sucking and…” He stopped. He narrowed his eyes at him. “I should punch you right in the nose.” He doubled up his fist and swung. He felt a hand clutch his arm in mid air, then, he landed up against something hard. It was Aaron Radcliff.

  * * * *

  When Kendal came to, he moaned. His head was pounding. “Oh my God,” he muttered, sitting up and opening his eyes. He wasn’t in his bed. In fact, he wasn�
�t even in his house. He lifted the blanket that was covering his waist and gasped. He was naked, except for his underwear. Where in hell was he, and where were his clothes? He stood up and wrapped the blanket around him, stumbling out of the room and into a hallway. He was in someone’s house. He spotted the bathroom, and made a beeline to it. He took a pee, looking around… shaving stuff, aftershave, a man’s robe hanging on a hook near the door. Not a feminine item in sight.

  He padded cautiously down the hallway, passed the living room, and into the kitchen. There was another bedroom on the way. He peeked in. Empty. The bed was made, covered with a black and red striped bedspread. There was a man’s bureau sitting in the corner. Over the bed was a painting of a fire truck. “Now, who puts a painting of a fire truck on their wall?” he muttered.

  “Either a little boy who never grew up, or a fire fighter,” a deep voice said from behind him.

  Kendal just about jumped out of his skin. He placed a hand to his chest, and turned around, almost tripping over the blanket as he did. His eyes widened when he saw the man standing there. It was that Aaron guy from last night. He had on a pair of white shorts today, and a red t-shirt. His hair looked damp. “I didn’t know you were up,” he said. “I was in the exercise room in the basement. How are you feeling?”

  “I…where’s Charlie?” he demanded. “I want you both to know he doesn’t need to be feeling sorry for me.”

  Aaron folded his muscular arms across his chest. God, what a body. No wonder Charlie got ‘the itch in his pants’, as Andrew called it. “Charlie?”

  “You’re playing innocent, but that’s okay. I’ll just get my clothes and get out of here. I really don’t want a confrontation with him.”

  “No danger of that,” he said.

  “He’s out, what…getting a hair weave? His hair is thinning, you know. I just want you to know that.”