“What did the doc say?” Zach asked.
“He guesses it was dehydration caused by the studio lights.”
“And what do you have to say?” Zach asked, a quizzical look on his face.
He drew in a deep breath and let out a quick sigh. “As good a guess as any at this point. They drew some blood and will have the results tomorrow. If there’s anything serious, he’ll let me know.”
Ethan heard some noise beyond the door frame. “Guys, you might as well all come in. I can hear you eavesdropping.”
Orr and Ric poked their heads quickly around the corner.
“We weren’t eavesdropping,” Orr protested.
Ethan raised an eyebrow, “Thou doth protest too much.”
“Okay,” Ric started. “So, we may have been eavesdropping, but it’s because we wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. The doctor said I’m fine,” Ethan reassured them.
“That’s good to hear,” Orr said.
“Totally,” Ric agreed.
“Anyway,” Zach started, “glad to hear you’re all right. We’re about to order room service. Can we get you anything?”
“Let me look.” Ethan scooted around the bed to the bedside table, opened the drawer and pulled out the hotel room service menu. He glanced through the menu before saying, “Order me the lobster mac-n-cheese with a Diet Coke.”
“Will do,” Zach said. “Have you called Stephanie yet?”
“Dear God, no. I hadn’t even thought about calling her. I’m sure she’s panicked.”
“Yea,” Zach said, scrunching up his face a bit. “She’s called me five times asking how you’re doing and why you aren’t picking up your phone.”
“I’ll do that now. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“We’ll let you know when room service gets here,” Zach said as he shut the door.
* * * *
Blayne
Blayne had grown up in a small town in West Texas called Plainview. The name clearly exemplified reality. One could see for miles in any direction, and all they saw was flat dirt. There was not a hill or even a giant anthill in any direction from the town. Plainview was also a good representation of the way the city saw the world outside. The folks in Plainview were decent and kind, but they didn’t understand they lived in a world with all different kinds of people who were not like them. As Blayne was growing up, he would escape to the metropolis of Lubbock, TX, a metropolitan community—in numbers at least—about forty-five-miles south of Plainview. In Lubbock, Blayne could experience culture—at least culture that didn’t exist in Plainview or most of West Texas. Heck, Lubbock even had two gay clubs and a lesbian bar. Blayne had gone to Texas Tech University for his undergraduate work, but quickly discovered that what he saw as a culturally rich city wasn’t. Although Lubbock had more culture than any other part of West Texas, the city was still a very conservative enclave. As soon as Blayne had finished his undergraduate degree in psychology and his Master’s in multicultural educational studies at Texas Tech, he knew he needed to find a more liberal institution for his doctorate.
One of Blayne’s favorite professors at Texas Tech had attended Pennington University and encouraged Blayne to apply to the program there. Blayne had taken the chance, applied and found himself at Pennington, a small but well-respected liberal arts university in a Houston suburb. The Pendlebrook subdivision, where the university was built, was primarily composed of university-affiliated personnel. Culturally, Pendlebrook truly opened Blayne’s perspective on everything possible. If the university didn’t have it, then Houston would.
For Blayne, coming out had been a non-issue. He had realized in junior high school he was not interested in females sexually. He had initially thought there was something psychologically wrong with him. Unbeknownst to his parents, he had seen a psychologist. Unbeknownst to Blayne, the psychologist had been gay. The psychologist helped Blayne understand that being gay was neither a sin nor a mistake nature made. Even after they had ended their counseling relationship, Blayne kept in touch with his psychologist to let him know how things were going. By the time Blayne’s senior year in high school had rolled around, Blayne was pretty much out to everyone. And since Blayne was gorgeous, intelligent and athletic, most people were shocked when he came out in a school newspaper column. Although he hadn’t been entirely prepared for the amount of support he received, the few negative experiences still upset him. Blayne hadn’t understood why people had gotten mad at him for being honest and upfront about who he was. To Blayne, the idea of lying about his sexual orientation had been as idiotic as lying about one’s religion or political affiliation.
Since high school, Blayne had always lived as an openly gay man. He didn’t run around Pennington University screaming about his gayness from the top of his lungs. He simply lived it. He didn’t gender-switch pronouns when giving examples in class. He didn’t turn the picture of him and his ex-boyfriend around when students came into the office. And he didn’t lie when asked. Blayne lived his life openly and honestly.
Blayne’s ex-boyfriend had been killed in an automobile accident two years before he’d come to Pennington. Jeremy had been driving home from Christmas vacation and was killed in a head-on collision with a semi. Jeremy had swerved into the oncoming lane, and the emergency people on the scene said he’d died instantly. Although the investigators didn’t know how the accident happened, Blayne did. Jeremy had regularly stopped paying attention to the road as he fiddled with his phone, picking the next album or podcast to listen to while driving. Blayne could easily see in his head what had probably happened. Jeremy had messed with his phone and swerved at the wrong time into oncoming traffic—such a senseless death.
Blayne hadn’t gotten over Jeremy because Jeremy had been Blayne’s soul mate. Both Jeremy and Blayne had figured they would live together for the rest of their lives. Neither had expected the rest of Jeremy’s life would only be a couple of years. After Jeremy’s death, Blayne had stopped caring emotionally for guys. He had friends he trusted and guys he fucked, and the two groups never crossed paths. Cognitively, Blayne realized this differentiation of relationships was unhealthy. Still, it helped him get through his heartache for a few years. When Blayne wanted to talk to someone, he spoke to his friends. When he had wanted to fuck, he found a hook-up.
Back in his apartment, Blayne hurried himself into the kitchen to make dinner. After arguing with a fellow student, running, getting horny, looking at a student’s ass and getting ogled by older gay guys, he was totally famished. Blayne broiled a chicken breast and baked a potato. He wrapped the potato in foil and half-listened to the news onReal Time Newsin the background.
“Welcome back toReal Time News. I’m Tika Downs. With the primaries right around the corner, the world of politics is quickly reaching its boiling point. But before we discuss the current political hotbed our President has entered, let’s go live to Lake Pontchartrain, where Stephen McNeil is investigating the tragic murders ofNOLA Nightsstars Cynthia Dunning and Daniel Hawthorne.”
Daniel Hawthorne? Why does that name sound so familiar?Must have read it on the cover of a magazine at some point.
