Slasher

Chapter 11

David left me sitting at the bar when he moved on to question the other patrons. I watched him motion harness and chaps into a back booth and sit across from him.

Barry came back up to me. He slid a draft beer over the bar. I looked from it to him.

"I seem to remember you being a beer drinker."

I nodded thanks and lifted the glass to drain it in three gulps. Mistake. Barry just refilled it.

"You're pulling my leg, aren't you?" Barry set both elbows on the scarred counter top and leaned toward me. "You and him."

"S'truth," I said, this time sipping my beer. "Eleven months."

"What's he got? A dong down to his knees?"

I didn't bother answering him. This wasn't the first time I'd faced ignorant questions like that. Everybody assumed it had to be physical.

God, had I been as shallow as that?

I knew the answer to that too damned well. Not only had I been, but I knew why everyone was so surprised. The old Chris Bellamere wouldn't have been seen in the same room as someone as visually challenged as David.

Garry leaned in even closer. I could actually feel his breath stir the short hairs on my arm. "Well, he's busy right now. Want to slip in to the back room for old-time's sake?"

He clearly took my silence for breathless anticipation. As I remembered Garry had a pretty high opinion -- totally unfounded -- of his sexual prowess.

"You remember the way, right? Just pretend you're going to the bathrooms. The cop'll never catch on."

"Thanks for the beer, Barry. You got any peanuts back there I can have?"

His eyes narrowed then he sneered. But he got me my bag of nuts. Then he moved to the other end of the bar where he fell into a conversation with another bar patron. They both glared at David, then Barry shot me an uneasy look. He muttered something else to the other man and stomped back into the backroom.

He came out carrying a case of Bud which he set about filling the cooler with. He studiously ignored me.

David was interviewing another patron. When he was done, he signaled me over. I left my beer at the bar and slid into the seat beside him, pressing my hip against his.

"Get anything interesting?" I asked.

"Some names to check. Somebody who may know Stephen -- your bartender friend may have been lying about not knowing him, big surprise, right? But then if he knew the kid was a minor he's gotta be worried about his license."

"Stephen came in here? The underage one."

"The same. It might be worth a trip back here on Friday or Saturday." David's smile was cold. "See what shakes out on a busy night."

I smiled back. If David could find the bar served minors like Stephen, then it would give him a lot of leverage to use to get honest answers. Something we both knew he wasn't getting right now.

"What did Barry the bartender want from you?"

I looked sharply at David. I'd sort of hoped he wouldn't notice Barry proposition me. I should have known David didn't miss much.

I shrugged and traced a name someone had crudely carved into the table top. "He wanted me to meet him in the back room."

David's eyes narrowed.

"I said no," I snapped. "You don't actually think I'd be interested, do you?"

I glanced at Barry who still looked pissed.

"You must have noticed he's not too happy."

"I noticed. Did he have reason to think you might say yes?"

"Damn it, David --" I squeezed my hand into a fist. "Okay, so maybe I didn't always show the best judgement back then. I was young, thought I was immortal."

"No doubt the same thing Toddy believed."

"What made you think of asking if Toddy was a Hollywood player? That was a stroke of genius."

"Changing the subject, Chris?"

"The subject's dead," I said flatly. "I hope you're not going to start hassling me about things I did before I met you. Like you said, I was no vestal virgin. I made mistakes, I admit that. Let's drop it."

David looked startled and none too happy. Didn't like me standing up for myself? I might roll over for him in bed and play the submissive, but that didn't mean I was a doormat the rest of the time.

"Right," he spoke slowly as though digesting something. "Water under the bridge. You ready to get out of here?"

"I was ready five minutes before we walked in the place." I grinned and captured his hand. "And don't tell me I was the one who insisted on coming. I know that."

"As long as we understand each other."

"I think we do." We walked out of the bar, arm in arm, something that always thrilled me, since it showed how far David had come. Once, not that long ago, he never would have touched me in public. I slid my hand into the pocket of his cotton 'work' pants. "I'd like to go see Bobby in the hospital, if that's okay with you."

David was silent for a long time. I thought maybe he hadn't heard or wasn't going to answer, then I heard him sigh. "I wondered when you were going to ask that. Is it a good idea?"

"I just want to see for myself how he is."

"The doctor's say he conscious, but he's not responding to anything. What good will it do?"

"Maybe he'll respond to me," I said. "Are his parents still in town?"

"Far as I know." David unlocked the car and we both slid in. He started the engine and pulled a U-turn on the quiet street. "I don't think they knew very much about Bobby. He mentioned acting to them, but none of the rest. He hadn't come out, so that was a big surprise." David grimaced. "After meeting them I can see why he wouldn't tell them."

"Religious?"

"Ultra-conservative. L.A.'s a foreign planet to them. If they're there and you go in, it might not go over very well."

"You telling me not to go?"

"No." David rubbed his chin. I heard the rasp of his five o'clock -- make that one thirty in the morning -- shadow. "Talk to him if you can. But if his parents are there, just be prepared. If they think you're just a friend..."

"Gotcha. Just friends. Will they believe it?"

"Don't wear that flowered thing Becky gave you at the office party last Christmas. That's a dead give-away. Forget the earrings." He shot a quick look at my ears which I'd had pierced years ago, though I rarely wore anything anymore. He grinned, slowing for a red light. "It may not mean anything here, but in Kansas I think it's still a pretty big deal. Anyway, what's the worst they can do? Toss your queer ass out? Can you handle that if it happens?"

"I can handle it." I harrumphed, which drew a smile from David. "With dignity."

Chapter 12

Hospitals gave me mixed feelings these days. I mean, I'd met David in a hospital, after he'd come to interview me following the bank-robbery-turned-homicide I'd witnessed. So those memories were good ones. But otherwise hospitals were depressing places full of sick people. What's to like?

Thankfully Bobby was alone in his room. He didn't look a lot better than he had in the pictures John had shown me. His face was still puffy, his neck bore dark bruises from the tie the Slasher had strangled him with. He was heavily bandaged where the knife had done its damage, just missing his jugular vein, David had told me. Tubes connected his body to various machines and that dismal repetitive sound you always hear in Hollywood productions to signify how dangerously ill the show's hero or heroine is. Bobby would have loved the drama. Although I'm sure he would have preferred a more active role -- the darling doctor who saves the day or the cop bent on revenge.

I dragged a chair over beside the bed and sat down. I had thought about bringing flowers, but figured that might mark me as a flaming pansy to Bobby's folks so I hadn't bothered.

"Hi, Bobby," I said, instantly feeling foolish for talking to a man who was obviously asleep. "It's Chris. Chris Bellamere. I'm not sure you remember me. We met last year at the Railhouse. Ring any bells?"

Gazing at the various monitors I wondered if any of them would show a response to the sound of my voice. I saw no changes. They were mesmerizing, though, and I found myself staring blankly at them like you find yourself watching a TV screen even when the sound's turned off.

"Well, I don't imagine you meant to end up like this. Someone really bad is out there, Bobby. Someone the cops want to stop. But they need your help."

Bobby's breathing was slow and measured. His mouth was slightly ajar, a tube leading down his throat, another one snaked up his nose. I had always hated the invasive nature of hospitals. They so coldly invade your body without regard to dignity or distress. All in the name of curing you. Or finding out what's going to kill you.

"Did I ever tell you I'm involved with a cop? No, of course not, how could I have? That was after I met you." I was babbling but didn't care. If he heard me, great. Maybe he'd respond. If not, well, then who knew?

"But he's a good cop. Hell, a great cop. He really wants to stop this guy who hurt you. I want him stopped before he can do this to anyone else." I decided not to mention either that it was the Slasher who had attacked him or that he had killed seven others before Bobby. If Bobby didn't know he'd been left for dead, why traumatize him? If he knew, why remind him? "You must have seen the guy. If you could give David - that's my lover, David Eric Laine - a description it would help them so much. They also think he might have known you were an actor. Maybe he picked you out for that reason. What do you think, Bobby? Can you help us?"

I resigned myself to getting no response. Now I was just debating how long I would stay.

"Okay, if you don't want to talk about that, we can talk about something more pleasant. They've been showing your clips from Friends and that commercial you did for Pepsi. Man, you were sexy in that. You're bound to get a little fan club going over this. All those screaming breeders. You're famous - and isn't that the name of the game in Tinseltown?" I laughed, though even to my ears it sounded forced. "Maybe you'll even get a movie deal out of all this. What do you think?"

"I think you are so full of shit, Bellamere. But you were always full of shit."

I looked up to find Bobby's bright blue eyes fastened on my face. He looked hungry, like he had never expected this moment to come, and he was eager to devour it. He also looked scared, which was why I reached across the space between us and captured his hand from where it lay on top of the blankets.

"Chris." He squeezed my fingers. "What do you think?"

"Hey, Bobby," I said softly. "You're looking good."

"Bull. Man, I know what I look like." His voice had a whispery sound to it, as though speaking was a strain. "You really hooked up with a cop?"

"Yeah. He's great. Best thing that ever happened to me." I sobered and squeezed his hand. "He'd really like to talk to you."

Panic flared in Bobby's eyes. He touched his bruised and bandaged throat with his free hand.

"Don't... remember. Can't --"

I changed the subject. "Did you know your parents are here? They've been to see you several times." I got that bit of news courtesy of a friendly nurse. "I'm sure they'll be back."

"Mom... Dad? I thought I was dreaming I heard their voices." Suddenly he looked scared. He struggled into a sitting position. "Shit. Do they know what happened to me?"

"I don't know," I lied. I didn't see the sense in having him panic. "They just flew in from Kansas --"

"But you already said it was all over the news. Dad never misses the six o'clock news, no matter where he is..." Bobby pulled away from my grip and covered his bruised face with his hands. "I'm famous," he said bitterly. "Oh Jesus, I never meant for them to ever find out. Their son, the famous faggot. It'll kill them."

"Bobby --"

"Who did it, Chris? I keep thinking it's like that Slasher I heard about who got all those other guys, but he killed them. He..."

He must have read the answer in my face because his went white. He swallowed convulsively and I thought for a minute he was going to throw up.

"My God, it was him, wasn't it? Then why... How ?"

"Someone scared him off. Listen, man, that's why you have to talk to David. He means to catch this guy. You know if he's not caught he'll do it again." I leaned forward. "What did he look like, Bobby? What did he say to you? Did he give you his name?"

"He told me he was gonna use me as an actor. He showed me a card... He was some big talent agency, digging up new faces for -- Shit, why should I tell you?"

"Don't tell me. Tell David. Or tell his partner, John. But tell somebody who can do something about it. Stop him, Bobby. You have to talk to somebody, Bobby. You're a material witness now."

"Nobody can make me talk."

I shrugged. "You want him to go after someone else? Chances are the next guy he picks up he'll be more successful with. You want to live with that if it happens?"

"I won't be here."

"What are you gonna do, Bobby? Run back to Kansas?"

I knew I was being cruel but his refusal to even consider helping was galling. I knew he was scared, but running away, tail tucked between his legs, wasn't going to help anyone, least of all Bobby. If he didn't deal with this, he'd be having nightmares the rest of his life. I know, I've been there.

"I don't remember you being such a prick before." Bobby scowled. He twisted the covers under his fingers and his eyes darted up to meet mine. "You were always nice, in fact. I used to think of calling you up, see if you busy." He scowled. "I guess you were. A cop."

I grinned and grabbed his hand to still his nervous fingers. "I was nice because I was dying to get you into bed with me. You were the sexiest thing I'd seen in a long time. What did you expect?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I seem to remember that. You were an eager little bunny, weren't you --"

The smile vanished from his face and he turned ghostly pale. His eyes widened at the same time I heard the sound behind me. Without even turning I knew who it was.

"Mom, Dad," Bobby whispered.

[More to come]

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