Page 11 of Too Many Beds

I spun the wheel on my lighter. Flame sparked. I held it to the end of my cigarette and inhaled while Jasper sat on the opposite bed, one knee bouncing. The bathroom sink dripped steadily. Outside, there was thunder and lightning, but inside, it was too quiet in my room.

I didn’t know what to say to Jasper to make him feel better, but I knew I ought to say something, so I offered him a cigarette even though I knew he didn’t smoke.

He shook his head.

I sighed and lowered the pack of cigarettes before tossing it onto the nightstand. “Did you try the other bed in the room?”

“Yeah, and a couple more besides.”

I arched an eyebrow at Jasper, who blushed and squirmed under my gaze.

“I been in three different rooms tonight,” he explained. “Can’t sleep in a one of ‘em, .”

I grunted and smoked in silence for a little while before asking, “Is it the storm or what?”

I knew full well what it was that haunted Jasper. It was the image of Laurent lying there on the factory floor in a pool of his own blood. Jasper wasn’t made for killing. He was too soft for it. Some of the guys acted like that was a bad thing, but I didn’t think so. The organization needed soft men like Jasper. It kept us human, kept us humble. Jasper reminded me I was a man, not a monster.

It wasn’t easy for someone like Jasper to shed his innocence. Not like me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had any innocence in the first place.

“How do you do it, ?” Jasper asked quietly, his leg still for the first time.

I plucked the cigarette from my lips and tapped a long column of ash into the ashtray. “How do I do what?”

Jasper wrapped his long, willowy arms around himself and looked away, his glasses still speckled with rainwater. A dark curl hung at the center of his forehead, and I had the strangest urge to smooth it back for him. “Live with yourself after. Move on.”

“It gets easier,” I told him, “if you do it enough.”

“And if I don’t want to?” He lifted his head, looking at me through his rain-streaked glasses. “I don’t want to do it again, . I know that makes me a coward, but?—”

“That don’t make you anything.” I stabbed the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray and reached across the space to grab him by the head. “Maybe you killed a man, Jasper, but that don’t make you a killer.”

“Yes, it does. Doesn’t it?”

“You can’t think of it like that. You gotta look at it from the outside. Think of all the other little sins you’ve committed in your life. Realize you don’t define yourself by that shit either. How many times have you been in a little fender bender or fucked somebody else’s woman on the down low?”

The blush spread up to his ears and down his neck as he squirmed in place even more. “I never been with no women like that.”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered and wiped a hand over my face. “Are you telling me you’re a fucking virgin?”

“I never said that. Just that I never been with no women .” The way he looked up at me, all vulnerable and shit, threatened to melt the wall of ice I’d built up around my heart.

Fucking hell, what was I supposed to do with the bombshell he’d just dropped in my lap? I’d suspected, but fuck. It was one of those things people like us just didn’t talk about. If Remy Fortier found out…

But we didn’t have to report to Boss Fortier anymore.

We were free of him, free to say and do whatever we wanted.

The realization hit me hard, and I had to grip the edge of the bed to keep from swaying in place.

I reached for my cigarettes with shaky hands and lit another, muttering, “Jesus Christ,” again.

“I’m sorry, ,” Jasper blurted. “I know I should’ve fucking told you. Or told somebody, but I was scared. Everybody said that Boss Fortier didn’t let queers into the organization. Plus, with the way everybody talked about Avi and Laurent all disapproving like, I didn’t want people to talk like that about me. And anyway, I figured it didn’t fucking matter since the only person I was ever even interested in was y—” He cut himself off, slapping both hands over his mouth.

Jasper the Mouth, indeed. He just couldn’t shut up.

He stared at me, eyes wide with terror, and I hated that. Hated that he was scared of me when normally I liked that. That was the best part about killing, the moment when they looked up at me like I was a god. I decided if they lived or died. Me. Not some bearded asshole in the clouds. fucking Ducaux.

But I didn’t like that look on Jasper’s face. It didn’t belong there.

I sighed, exhaling smoke in a funnel. “Jasper, I don’t care.”

He blinked his watery eyes. “You don’t?”

“Why should I? Look, the way I see it, life’s fucking short and the world’s a dumpster fire. I mean, look at me. I kill people, Jasper. What right have I got to judge anybody for anything?” I tapped my cigarette over the ashtray. “Besides, who hasn’t dabbled a little, huh? I mean, the whole no queers thing is a joke. Half the guys in the organization are messing around on the down low with each other, even the ones with wives and girlfriends waiting at home. Boss Fortier himself has…” I looked up and bit off the last part of it. “Well, let’s just say some of the people crying about it the loudest have the most to hide. But it doesn’t matter now anyway, does it? We’re not in the family anymore. We’re free men.”

“Free men,” he repeated as if it were as novel a concept to him as it was to me.

“That’s right. All we’ve got to do is make it through the border, and we’ll be home free once we get to Canada.”

“And then what?” he asked.

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what happens once we get to Canada, ?” He scooted to the edge of the bed.

I looked away and shrugged. “Suppose we’ll go our separate ways then.”

“Is that what you want?”

My head snapped back to Jasper, and I frowned. When was the last time anybody had asked me what I wanted? I couldn’t remember. My entire life had always been about doing what was needed. As a kid, I did whatever I had to do to survive. As an adult, I did whatever the boss said, usually without a word of thanks, all while assholes like Laurent got promoted out from under me. I joined the Fortiers because I wasn’t suited for regular life, and I killed people because I was good at it.

But had I wanted to do those things? Guess the thought never occurred to me. It especially hadn’t occurred to me to ask myself what I wanted to do now that I was free of that life, but it should have.

Once we started a new life, I couldn’t be Lazy the mafia hitman anymore. I’d have to become someone else, someone who washed dishes and paid his taxes and took out the trash after dinner. Someone… domestic. I’d always thought I’d be opposed to that shit, but now that I was thinking about it, it sounded kinda nice.

Except whenever I imagined doing those things, I didn’t imagine myself alone. I saw Jasper there with me. Maybe that was because he was always with me, following me around like a little lost lamb, or maybe it was because there was no one else left.

Or maybe, just maybe, there was a different reason. One I hadn’t let myself consider until that moment. Maybe it was because I wanted him with me.

“What do you want?” I asked.

Jasper pressed his lips together in thought and fidgeted with his thumbs. “I don’t know.”

My heart sank for some reason. What was I expecting? Some heartfelt confession of undying love? God, why was my brain getting all sappy? I must’ve been more tired than I thought.

“Well, maybe we’d better sleep on it.” I put my cigarette out. “You can sleep in here if you want. Better than bed surfing through the motel, especially when we’ve got to get back on the road in a few hours.”

“Yeah, ok,” he said, though his voice sounded strained.

I reached over and turned off the light. Fabric rustled and blankets shifted in the dark as we both climbed into our respective beds. The air conditioner kicked on again, buzzing loudly and throwing more musty air into the stale room.

I laid on my back in the unfamiliar bed, my hands folded over my bare chest. The storm raged on outside, the wind and rain battering the thin walls and rattling the cheap glass in the windows. Lightning flashed, illuminating the room before plunging it back into darkness. Thunder grumbled, the deep bass vibrating the motel down to its foundations.

In the tense darkness, I stared up at the water-stained popcorn ceiling, acutely aware of Jasper's presence just a few feet away. I listened to the anxious cadence of Jasper's breathing, the creak of his mattress springs as he shifted restlessly under the worn polyester comforter.

I tried to force my tense muscles to uncoil, but Jasper's words buzzed around in my mind.

The air felt thick, the charged silence broken only by the angry grumbling of the storm and the sputtering of the ancient air conditioner as it fought a losing battle against the sultry heat. Sweat dampened my skin, plastering my hair to my forehead. The faint hint of Jasper's clean, masculine scent cut through the lingering scent of ozone and stale cigarette smoke in the air.

I thought about Jasper, about the wide vulnerability in his eyes behind those rain-flecked glasses. All these years, had Jasper been secretly pining for me? Was that the real reason he’d been following me around like a lovesick puppy?

I didn’t think anyone had ever wanted me. Not like that, anyway. Sure, there were girls I paid for it, and maybe one or two guys that nobody knew about, but that was just messing around. Scratching an itch. It didn’t mean anything. I didn’t fuck them because they wanted me. They’d have spread for anybody. I was just convenient and so were they. That was how it’d worked.

But Jasper… Jasper was different. He was sweet and kind and too damn good for the life of crime that’d sucked him in. The Fortiers had chewed up his good soul and spat him back out like trash, and he fucking deserved better.

Better than me. That was for damn sure.

Yet there he was, right next to me, a breath away from saying he wanted me. Why would he say that if it wasn’t true? I’d never known Jasper to be a liar. So it must’ve been true. I didn’t know why, didn’t care to, but the thought made my insides warm.

I turned my head and looked over at him. It was too dark to see, but I tried to picture him all curled up over there. Alone. Scared. It made me want to get up and go to him, curl my body around his and hold him tight. Maybe he deserved better, but maybe better couldn’t protect him like I could. My heart was dark, my soul made of oil and fire. He’d need someone like that if the Fortiers ever showed up.

I wanted to be there for him. With him. Not just figuratively, either.

I let myself entertain the idea of us living in hiding, being domestic with each other, doing things normal people did. I bet Jasper would make a damn fine husband. Bet he could cook and clean and all that shit. Fuck, I bet he was even the type who liked to kiss and cuddle when he fucked. Maybe that’d be nice. I’d never had that.

Maybe I wanted it, but only with Jasper. Jasper was special. He was the only person whose touch didn’t feel like fucking sandpaper, the only person I wanted to touch and let touch me in return. I’d imagined holding hands with him a hundred times, and then felt stupid afterward.

But when I was alone in the dark and it was just me and my fucked-up brain, he was the only real person I let myself think about being with. His were the only lips I wanted to taste, his sighs the only ones I wanted to hear because they’d fucking mean something. I couldn’t imagine it’d ever be just empty sex with him because Jasper was good. He was noble and sweet, and I couldn’t corrupt that, no matter how much I wanted to.

So that left me in a weird position. I wanted him, and he wanted me, but if I indulged even a little, I might just fucking ruin him.