I’m inside
Jake’s mansion. It’s just as idiotically garish as the last time I
saw it. There was once a time I swore I’d never set foot in here
again, for various reasons I won’t get into. Jake is the type of
guy who makes you say stuff like that. But he’s also the type who
reminds you never to say never. Here I fucking am again, in this
useless dickhead’s dime-store McMansion. But only because I need
one of his ships.
Rose is still asleep from the drugs. I put her on
that monstrous, overstuffed velvet couch over there. My guy
Squarewave is here too. I need his help today, because there’s a
lot of cargo to wrangle. He’s wheeling something around on a hand
truck. Something about the height of Rose, roughly Rose-shaped, and
wrapped in a cloth. I know she’s gonna love it the first time she
sees it. But the only way she’ll be able to do that is when she’s
awake and looking in a mirror.
Jake owns Skaianet, a company which, among many
other things, manufactures spaceships. They do a stiff business
selling these rigs, especially with all the new military contracts
the Crocker administration has been handing out. If it weren’t for
his connection to a good supply of quality starcraft, I’m honestly
not sure if I’d even bother stopping by before leaving. I’d have to
think about it. Yeah, we’re “friends,” I suppose, but there really
isn’t much I have to say to this guy anymore. But as long as I’m
here, I have to confess I’ve been mulling over a few choice remarks
to let him chew on while I’m gone.
I didn’t tell him I’d be coming. That would be a
scene. He’d “prepare” too much. Roll out the red carpet, so to
speak. Suggest plans, stammer nervously, throw on something a bit
more skin-hugging than usual. I may have already mentioned, but I’m
a bit too deft at this for my own good. Doing the thing where I tug
at the part of someone’s latent thought process that already knows
they adore me. That if someone would just pull the stops from their
sense of inhibition, they’d realize they would do anything for
me.
Though I could be overselling my methods of
persuasion while shortchanging my natural aura of charisma and
dashing good looks. Maybe I’m just that fucking charming? There are
times when I actually do manage to underestimate my positive
qualities, believe it or not.
Normally, corralling Jake’s attention is like
greasing up your whole naked body and tackling a shrieking hog on
rocket skates. There was always a part of his mind that was
conflicted about me—intrigued, titillated, wary. But now he’s just
plain obsessed.
That wasn’t really what I was going for, but hey.
With political warfare comes collateral damage. It’s harmless
enough anyway. It’s not like I gave him a sick scar, or anything
that would hurt his value as priceless sexual commodity. The only
thing affected was his brain. It’s a bit like if someone hacked a
comments section. Who gives a shit?
I glance up the stairs, where he’s
standing on the precipice overlooking the foyer. Yeah, he
definitely wasn’t expecting company. He’s completely nude, except
for a pair of boxers with a pattern of green skulls, pistols, and
some shapes that maybe are supposed to be pot leaves.
He blunders down the stairs at top speed, runs over
and gives me a huge bro-hug, making my spine pop. God, he’s so
fucking strong. I hate that the brief feeling of being
crushed by this oaf makes my dick twitch slightly.
DIRK: Hey Jake.
JAKE: Well isn’t this a heap of shillelaghs and
shamrocks!
DIRK: Uh...
JAKE: I had no idea you had plans to visit my
humble abode!
JAKE: To swing about the ole manor du chez ingles
as they say.
DIRK: That’s three different fucking languages.
JAKE: So what brings you here pal?
JAKE: I seem to recall the last time we were
bumming about the rumpus cabana you swore some sort of blood oath
youd never set foot in here again with one of your customary
dramatic flourishes.
DIRK: Yeah, well.
DIRK: I meant it at the time.
DIRK: Let’s just leave it at that.
JAKE: Okie doke!
JAKE: GOSH its so good to see you.
JAKE: SO good.....
He’s gently stroking the side of my arm
now, making no effort to disguise his interest in the contours of
my muscles. I use that arm to put a hand on his shoulder in an
affable way, so that he’s forced to stop.
DIRK: Listen, man.
DIRK: You got a spare spaceship lying around?
DIRK: We’re going on a trip.
I nod over in the direction of the couch.
Jake’s eyebrows shoot up.
JAKE: Oh! I didnt even notice rose there.
JAKE: Wow she looks really zonked. Bad hangover i
presume?
JAKE: Hold the phone wasnt she supposed to be off
the sauce? Or is that not a thing anymore?
DIRK: It’s not a hangover. She’s just tired.
DIRK: Can you help us out?
JAKE: Of course mate. Ive got frickin scads of the
things lying around.
JAKE: Prototypes. Top secret experimental models.
Galaxy class ball busters dogeared for the whiteshirts in the
gubmint! ;)
JAKE: They pay some tidy coin for all this
industrio military whatsit you know.
I’m gritting my teeth, focusing on
breathing steadily.
DIRK: Yeah, um.
DIRK: I don’t know, dude. Anything, really.
DIRK: Something fast.
JAKE: Fast! We can do fast.
He scurries over to a new-money–looking
baroque antique cabinet, his ample junk swinging about in his loose
boxers free as a jaybird. He opens a small door and rifles through
a stack of stray papers and captchalogue cards.
JAKE: Heres one! Oughta do you splendidly.
DIRK: Thanks bro.
I take it. We’re almost through this
dirty little bit of business. I know there’s more, though. There
always is with him. In fact, here it comes. I can smell it a mile
away. I know exactly what he’s about to say, and the buoyant
obliviousness with which he’ll say it.
JAKE: So where are we going?
DIRK: Yeah, I thought this misunderstanding might
happen.
DIRK: My bad, man. I wasn’t that clear up
front.
DIRK: “We” aren’t going anywhere.
DIRK: It’s just me and Rose on this trip.
JAKE: Ooh! I see.
JAKE: Well when you live the married life i suppose
from time to time one must get away from the old ball and chain one
way or another.
JAKE: So its a stag night of sorts. In space. With
a gay girl instead of a fella!
JAKE: And... not me.
DIRK: Yes.
Jake falls quiet for a moment as his
pitiful pea brain struggles to process the shocking
information.
JAKE: Gadzooks...!
JAKE: Well say no more then.
JAKE: So um... how long will you be away? Does
kanaya know about all of these shenanigans?
DIRK: Yes.
DIRK: We’ve discussed it. She’s ok with it.
JAKE: Whew good to see theres no trouble in
paradise. Theyve always had the most lovely marriage.
JAKE: On the other hand you know how those dames
can be... rargh!
He shakes his fist to demonstrate
whatever bad point he’s making.
JAKE: There are times let me tell you how i feel
like i dodged a bullet by not jumping the matrimonial broom with
jane.
JAKE: I love her to death obviously and id do
fucking anything for her especially now that shes EL
PRESIDEÑTE!!
JAKE: Cripes... woo boy sometimes i can hardly
believe how that sounds but it sure is what happened isnt it?
JAKE: Partly thanks to a humdinger of a speech by
yours truly but... um... but WOW never mind THAT old saw!
JAKE: What im saying is... i dont know what im
saying? We guys need to stick together sometimes and live our lives
and not...
JAKE: Well. Play such ornamental roles in the lives
of our important and powerful womanly counterparts dear to us
though they be!
JAKE: I think maybe im saying we should hang out
more dirk??
JAKE: No pressure i mean! When you get back from
your extraterrestrial camping trip of course!
JAKE: Um...
JAKE: When did you say you were coming back?
He’s sweating. More nervous than I’ve
ever seen him before. Stammering, desperate. I need to be brutally
direct with this poor guy. Enough’s enough.
DIRK: I won’t be coming back, Jake.
His mouth is hanging open. Not a shred of
restraint in his crestfallen posture. But he needs to hear this.
All of it.
JAKE: Like
JAKE: Wait.
JAKE: You arent...
DIRK: Coming back.
DIRK: Ever.
JAKE: Ever???
DIRK: Yeah.
JAKE: But...
JAKE: I dont
JAKE: Why dirk?????
The tears are starting to come. His
composure is breaking. He’s staring intently at my face, as if
trying to drink in every precious moment of what he knows in his
heart will be the last time we ever see each other. He takes in
every drop of light reflecting from my beautiful face. The sculpted
cheekbones, the warrior’s eyebrows, the deadly serious yet
exquisitely kissable mouth. This is the face he lives for now. A
visage that, in mere minutes, will vanish from his life forever.
The tears drop. His voice cracks.
JAKE: Please...
JAKE: Please take me with you dirk.
DIRK: I can’t do that, Jake.
DIRK: It’s not within the parameters of the
mission.
JAKE: But...!
JAKE: What mission!
JAKE: I... cant do this alone dirk!
JAKE: This life... this... whatever is happening
now. Whatevers expected of me...
JAKE: I cant do it.
JAKE: Not without you!
DIRK: You’re going to have to, man.
DIRK: Jane needs you now more than ever.
DIRK: She has a tough road ahead.
DIRK: It’s hard running a planet, but she’ll whip
it into shape.
DIRK: I trust her, and so should you.
JAKE: B-but!
DIRK: She needs you at her side.
DIRK: If all goes well, she’ll rule Earth C for
millions of years, and you’ll be critical to that reign.
JAKE: But i dont know what to DO dirk!
JAKE: I dont know HOW to help someone rule!
JAKE: I wouldnt know the first thing about...
strategy or advising or policy or...
I almost burst out laughing, but I manage
to control myself.
DIRK: Uh, Jake. Nobody wants you to do any of
that.
DIRK: Well, I know Jane sure doesn’t.
JAKE: Then... what...
DIRK: You’ll just be, you know.
DIRK: Her candy boy?
JAKE: CANDY BOY???
DIRK: Yeah. Being on call.
DIRK: Serving a multimillion-year term of giving
her the right kind of “presidential action” she needs to keep
going. To keep her morale up and such.
DIRK: To provide her with many heirs.
DIRK: Doesn’t that sound cool?
JAKE: HEIRS??
DIRK: Yeah, like. Kids. A lot of them.
DIRK: Think about it. You could have thousands of
kids.
DIRK: They’ll all grow old and die, because they
aren’t god tiers like both of you are.
DIRK: But you just keep having more.
DIRK: Sounds pretty badass to me. Like getting to
live through your entire future family tree.
DIRK: To watch your own endlessly branching dynasty
flourish.
DIRK: I’m almost a little jealous.
JAKE: NO!!!
JAKE: That sounds... DREADFUL!
JAKE: DIRK PLEASE!
I glance at a clock on the wall. This
needs to end soon. There are a lot of important things still to be
done, and this sure isn’t one of them.
DIRK: Time to man up, Jake.
DIRK: This is what your life is now. It’s only bad
if you treat it this way.
DIRK: It’s actually fantastic. Someday you’ll get
it.
JAKE: No dirk!
JAKE: I cant bear to let you go!
JAKE: Youve... youve meant so much to me my whole
life!
JAKE: I probably did a bad job of showing that
because im such a shitty blubbering fucking numbnut IDIOT!
JAKE: You dont think i KNOW im a fucking bonehead
who no one respects!!!
JAKE: But youre all i have to keep me anchored to
ANY feeling of true self worth i ever had!
JAKE: You taught me so much! Remember the old days
in sburb dirk?
JAKE: Those days were the absolute BEES KNEES!
Jesus christopher CLOWNCOCK dirk!
JAKE: You taught me... taught me about...
JAKE: Combat! Philosophy! Life! Love!
JAKE: LOVE dirk!
JAKE: I dont... im so bad with feelings... i never
said it when we were together but i... i...
JAKE: i LOVE you dirk!
JAKE: I LOVE YOU!
JAKE: THERE I SAID IT I LOVE YOU!
JAKE: IVE NEVER LOVED ANYONE SO MUCH IN MY WHOLE
LIFE!
He waits a second for a response, but my
face doesn’t move a muscle. He won’t dare waste this momentum
though. He threw in the penny. Here comes the pound.
JAKE: Dirk im BEGGING you just take me with
you!
JAKE: Its... its fine! You dont have to love
me!
JAKE: Im ok with that! Whatever you want!
JAKE: I just need to be with you! Near you!
ANYTHING!
JAKE: I cant stay here! Please not without you!
JAKE: I want to be anywhere but here as long as its
with YOU!!!
He explodes into tears. A sloppy,
volcanic eruption of mucus, ugly noises, and the tatters of a bared
soul.
He begins slumping to the ground. But I grab his
shoulders roughly and lift him up with a violent jerk. I look into
his eyes furiously. My glare is incinerating. It halts his
infantile wailing like a cranky baby somewhere just got tossed into
the vacuum of space. He’s scared. No, terrified. Of being left with
no one who truly cares for him. Of the magnitude of his raw,
perilously unearthed feelings. But most of all, right here, right
now. He’s terrified of ME.
I pull him close with all my strength, flush to my
body, wrap my arms around him to cradle the back of his head in my
calloused palm, and I kiss him. It’s the softest kiss I’ve ever
given. My lips yield in a way that feels to him impossibly,
miraculously forgiving. Like cannonballing into a frozen lake only
to discover it’s not frozen at all. It’s not even water. It’s a
sheet of a thousand layers of silk. It’s a pool of a trillion
discrete, tiny, shimmering beads of chilled mercury. It’s the
final, gentle exhale of the most beautiful symphony ever played.
It’s the soothing, mythically rumored oasis where the satyrs and
nymphs once took pleasure and together forged the very concept of
comfort we understand today.
It lasts a fleeting moment. Two ticks of the clock
over there. Two ticks longer than anyone will ever kiss him like
that again. Two ticks longer than he ever deserved.
I move my hands up to his face, and with my palms
on his wet cheeks, I gently push his head about six inches away
from my face, and say:
DIRK: I’m sorry, Jake.
DIRK: But I’ll never let you break my heart
again.
Abruptly I turn, and walk to the couch. I
pick up Rose, nod at Squarewave. He springs into action, pushing
the hand truck out the door. Without looking back, I follow, and
slam the door behind me.