Date: Thu, 15 Jun 2006 22:24:38 -0700 From: christopher. Subject: breaking through part 22 Usual disclaimers apply: this is fiction, this doesn't imply anything about the real people that these fictional characters are based on. This didn't happen anywhere except my mixed up head. Don't read this if you're not allowed to. Author's Note: Still award-winning, still going strong, I think that this chapter is a return to form. Thanks to all the readers who've sent praise, old and new alike. As always, you can reach me at the E-mail address christopherrluu@gmail.com or iChat/AIM at babyofthe1980s with any comments/ideas/suggestions/rants. Thanks for reading. Part XXII Peter watched as Jake thumbed through the wedding album that Maggie had put together for her own wedding, a list of places she'd gone and checked out, caterers that were recommended to her, florists, the whole book was full of yellow post-it notes and writing in the margins, last minute things taped to the pages and some pages not even attached to the rings of the binder--just shoved in between the other pages. "This is serious," Peter said, "but shouldn't you ask him before you do all this?" "I'm not doing anything yet, Pete," Jake said, shutting it, "and I already asked him...sort of." "Usually it's more of a...collaborative effort," Peter said, glancing over Jake's shoulder. Maggie and Chris were still nowhere to be found. "I'm just sort of thinking about it. I want to show him that it's still just the beginning and that we're going to spend our lives together. I want him to know that it's what I feel in my heart." "Okay," Peter said, holding his hands up, "my job's done." Jake tucked the book back into the grocery bag that Peter had brought it in. He leaned back in the chair, quietly running through the script in his head. He'd been saying to himself over and over again, sure that he'd be so nervous when it came time to ask that he'd just end up babbling. It was harder than learning lines for movies, this was for Chris and he had to get every word out right. He only had one shot. "He might not seem like it, but he's just as...I don't know. He won't tell me but I know that he's looking for a big promise, something to get the questions out of his head." Peter suddenly sat up straight and Jake glanced over his shoulder, Chris shading his eyes with a folded copy of the New York Times Book Review as he and Maggie walked towards the two of them, Maggie fumbling in her bag for something. Jake scooted his chair over, making more room for the other two as they got closer, Maggie finally fishing Chris' sunglasses out of her purse and handing them to him. Chris slipped them on and slowed his pace, finally putting his arm down. "So you guys manage to get through every store in Los Angeles?" "You manage to find a movie that doesn't mess with a work of classic literature?" "Ouch," Jake said, grinning, "did you check to see what the weather's going to be like in Frisco?" "It's like at home, only colder at night," Chris said, "I lived close enough to know." Jake grimaced, weather like that meant layers. Layers of t-shirts and sweaters and jackets; he knew Chris loved it, loved that it was something different from the normal t- shirt and jeans he was always wearing, but Jake couldn't find anything more cumbersome, "If you pack, I'll make that Italian bread salad stuff that you like." Chris lit up, "You know that I'd do pretty much anything for that stuff. You guys should come up," he said, looking at Maggie and Peter, "just have dinner and maybe you can see us off tomorrow." *** Chris was starting to forget what life had been like before Jake. Part of him was really scared, it was important to him to remember the past no matter what it was; but what he had with Jake was so amazing that he didn't know if it was worth it to push everything else out and just remember the good times. He had everything written down, he could refresh him memory whenever he needed to, but there was so much that had happened in just the last year or so, so much that could still happen that he thought it could be worth it. Everything seemed to be connected to he and Jake now, every t-shirt, every hoodie, every picture in the house, the house itself, everything was a part of them, not just one of them. Jake stirred next to him, the dark cabin of the airplane keeping everyone quiet, eyes half-closed in slumber or boredom. Last time he was on a plane, he remembered, things were much different, shaking his head, he leaned over and rested his head against Jake's shoulder, trying to settle into a more comfortable position. The flight was only an hour long, but it was late and he couldn't resist leaning up against Jake's body, nose filling with the subtle smell of Jake's body and the warmth already soothing his racing mind. He felt a hand come up and stroke his cheek before going up to brush the bangs off his forehead, "Who's the big star now?" Shaking his head, Chris leaned closer to Jake, "San Francisco's a book town; I'm just keeping my name in their heads." "You're always on my mind," Jake said, nuzzling his nose into Chris' hair. What had started as a correspondence card had turned into an invitation to a party and when there was no response to that, Alec called Chris directly to invite him to an entire series of galas for San Francisco's literary scene. Chris refused again, ignoring it completely before Alec just stopped. Then Vivian got on his case, he knew it was a big deal. "We've never been to San Francisco together," Chris whispered, "I can't wait to show you my favorite places in the city proper." "City proper?" "The city. Forget our trips to Palo Alto, forget Oakland and Berkeley, the city is the only place I miss other than home." Jake smiled as the cabin light brightened, the short flight wasn't long enough for a satisfactory nap, but he was glad it was over. Planes left a bad taste in his mouth that even the sweetest honey-roasted peanuts couldn't get rid of. Chris straightened up in his chair, cracking his neck and stuffing the plane magazine back into the slot in front of his seat. Jake ran his hand over Chris', eyes focused on the clouds flying past them through the window. A second later, the city came into view, tall buildings, hills, and a huge green park coming closer as the plane descended through the hazy fog. He saw Chris smile, hand gripping Jake's as he couldn't hold it in, nothing was more exciting or stressful than the landing, especially when he wanted to be in the city so badly, to show Jake all the little places he'd discovered during his Stanford years. "This place is just amazing, people read books, people care about art, people go to museums. It's a whole different place. I can't believe I haven't been back," Chris said. *** The Omni Hotel is to San Francisco what the Waldorf-Astoria is to New York. That's exactly what ran through Jake's head as they stepped into the lobby and they were met with the same opulence and plush surroundings that they'd grown so accustomed to in New York. When they got to the room, there was already a huge bouquet of peonies waiting for them, another one of Alec's correspondence cards near the crystal vase. Chris picked it up and read it as Jake wheeled their suitcases into the bedroom, coming back out to open the drapes just as a cable car sped down California Street fourteen stories below them. Quietly, Jake wrapped his arms around Chris' chest, lips nipping at the back of his neck. He felt Chris lean back, relaxing his body against Jake's frame, "I'd walk by this hotel and never thought I'd be staying in it. Especially not with someone like you." "Dreams come true, you of all people know that," Jake whispered, "who are the flowers from?" "The guy who invited us up here," Chris said, "they're investors in my publishers and in Paramount. They're basically funding that Brave New World adaptation and they sort of pay me, I guess. I hate business. Vivian said I had to impress them." "I'm sure you'll have no problem impressing the boss," Jake said, "be your usual charming self." Grinning Jake leaned down, kissing Chris lightly, their kips grazing together as Chris pressed his body tighter against Jake's, feeling the firm muscle pressing against his body, the warmth radiating through layers of sweaters to his own body. Smiling, he ran his hands up Jake's back, hands hooking onto Jake's shoulders as his tongue slid against Jake's. His eyes were closed and he instantly remembered what Maggie had said about the wedding things, about a ceremony, about just asking Jake about things. It was something about the way Jake stroked his back, something about how Jake's body fit right into his that brought it. They seemed to work so well together everywhere but when it came to talking about the easiest things. "You're shaking," Jake whispered, holding tightly onto Chris' lower back to steady him. "I'm fine," Chris said, even though his head was spinning, he leaned in to kiss Jake again, but Jake pulled back, "I really am, Jake." "No you're not, you were fine a second ago," Jake said, "what did I say?" "It's not you," Chris said, steadying himself, "I'm nervous and I'm still thinking about a story or two." "Stop it," Jake said, rolling his eyes, he ran his nose through Chris' hair, arms holding their bodies tight, "you're going to be fine. I'm here for you, right? Don't worry about anything." Chris rested his head on Jake's shoulder, "It's just a lot of pressure for someone like me. I'm no big deal, I don't know why the asked for me." "You're the biggest thing they've got going. You're the one getting your work out there, everyone else is just doing what they've been doing for years. You're pushing forward." "I'm just a kid to them," Chris said, "I still have to prove myself to them over and over again." "You've proved yourself to me," Jake said, "lets just get some food in you, you don't have to prove anything to anyone but yourself." "You know the best part about San Francisco is that there aren't any photographers," Chris said, "and every single restaurant is good. We can go to Chez Panisse, but it's in Berkeley, I have to take you to this pizza place I used to go to." Jake grinned, "Anything's fine," he said, "we can save the fancy restaurants for next time." Next time? Chris was excited already. *** "What are you doing out here?" Jake asked, arm wrapping around Chris' shoulders. "I think about him sometimes," Chris said, feeling Jake's body tense next to him. "Who I think you're talking about better not be who you think about," Jake said, his hand sliding down to Chris' back. The cool evening air blew past them on the balcony, the entire city laid out around them. "When we were apart, who else did I have to hang out with? He was really my only friend," Chris said, "and now I don't have that person, someone that I could joke around with and do things with." "You have Maggie, you just have to call her and she'll do things with you." "She has a life, Jake; she has to work and she has Peter," Chris said, grabbing Jake's hands, "I'm not saying that I want to be his friend again. I know that can't happen, but I miss having that." "Natalie hangs out with you all the time," Jake said, "you always seem to have a good time with her." "I like Natalie," Chris said, "it's just not the same." "Hey," Jake said, fingers lifting Chris' chin so that they were eye-to-eye, "it takes time to make friends." Chris nodded, "I don't do it to make you mad, I just sometimes I miss having someone like that." Sometimes, Chris thought, he did miss Topher, the charming Topher that would throw the Frisbee around with him on the beach and tell him every time they got together that he loved reading his stories. "We're here in your favorite place, this isn't where you're supposed to be moping." "I know, sorry," Chris said, kissing Jake softly, "it just hit me when you went out and I got back to the empty hotel room, you know?" "Yeah," Jake said, "nobody wants to be alone all the time." There it was, Chris thought, he really had changed. He used to revel in his solitude, working in an uninterrupted pattern of routine. Now, he worked in the solitude of the studio, a fishbowl of ideas and inspiration, but he left it to be with Jake, tried his best to separate work and life by only ever writing in the little ten-by-ten space. When he was out of the converted garage, he didn't think about writing, he just jotted down ideas and saved them for later. Outside the studio, he had Jake, inside it, he had his ideas, his inspirations. Those two things occupied his life to such an extent that without one or the other, he didn't know what to do, there weren't enough distractions, books were one way to escape, but even Chris got tired of it sometimes. "I came back and I remembered those mornings where you'd be reading the newspaper in bed and I'd be there reading my book or writing in my journal. There's something about that morning light, the way your hand would run over my neck," Chris said, bringing Jake's hand up to his neck, his face nuzzling into Jake's chest as he pushed himself into Jake's body, "I have you and I have my writing, what else do I need?" Jake smiled, it was the simple things like that, just lying in bed together, ignoring their phones, ignoring the rest of the world, that's what made everything worthwhile. "Let's get you out of here," Jake said, "show me some of the stuff you've been telling me about." *** "Pour it on the ice cream," Chris said, holding Jake's spoon so that he had both hands free. "It's gelato," Jake corrected, following directions. He watched as the dark espresso melted the vanilla gelato, a thin layer of foam forming at the bottom of the paper cup as Chris handed him the spoon again. "It's good," Chris said, "no matter what you call it." They'd walked just a few blocks and Jake found himself in Little Italy, completely surprised that Chris knew all the streets and shops just as well as he knew the places back in Santa Barbara. North Beach was Chris' favorite neighborhood because of one thing: City Lights Bookstore. Jake followed Chris, the warm espresso mixed with the cold gelato warming him up and cooling him down at the same time. Chris was right, it was good and it was giving him the energy he needed to climb the hills. Chris had to take just one glance at the bus schedule and the entire thing came back to him. He used to have it memorized, the quickest routes from one place to another, the most scenic, the least crowded, he knew exactly how to get from one place to another. "They're going to have your book, you don't have to check," Jake said, tossing his empty cup in the trash can in front of the store. "I don't check, you do," Chris said, "you just have to see it; it's a landmark. There's the Golden Gate Bridge and then there's City Lights, you can't come to Frisco and not see it." Chris practically sprinted into the bookstore, his fingers instantly running over the spines of the books, his eyes lit up and his mouth curling into a smile. He took a deep breath, it smelled exactly the same as he remembered it. Jake was right behind him, hand on Chris' shoulder as he looked around, the books reaching from floor to ceiling, books on the floor, books everywhere. He leaned over, lips barely grazing Chris' ear, "Is this what heaven looks like to you?" "Something like this," Chris said, "but a little whiter." He walked down the aisles, Jake in tow, watching as Chris stepped with slow, deliberate strides, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in awe of the entire place. It really did emanate with an air of distinction, of importance. Chris was treating the place like it was a place of worship, and when Jake boiled it all down, it really was. Quietly, Jake watched as Chris' eyes jumped from shelf to shelf, fingers running down the spines of books that caught his eye, books that he'd read, covers he hadn't seen before. Chris grabbed his hand, Jake feeling his quick pulse, their hands fitting together in a tight knot of fingers and palms. "This right here, this is as close as I'll get," Chris said when they stopped in a corner. Jake looked up, the shelves laden with old, faded books, their cloth covers torn and ragged behind locked glass. "Wow," was all Jake could muster, if the bookstore was sacred, this was the altar. Chris' free hand ran over the cool glass, he could almost touch that first printing of Allen Ginsburg's "Howl." He let out a sigh and Jake wrapped his arms around Chris' waist, "Books don't belong behind glass, they should be in people's hands." "These aren't just books, these are like windows into someone's head. These are the books that made literature what it is today. Without these, we wouldn't have the writers that we have today. These books are the books that made me want to write." "I saw your book on the shelf back there," Jake said, "that's what's going to be in this case one day, you're inspiring people out there." "Maybe someday," Chris said, leaning back against Jake's body, he felt Jake's nose in his hair, strong arms holding him tight, he smiled and just let the feeling wash over him, he was in heaven right then and there. *** "This can't be someone's house," Chris said as he and Jake walked towards the brick mansion, white columns gleaming in the hazy sunlight peeking through the fog. "The address is right," Jake said, buttoning his suit jacket. Chris did the same and they walked towards the house, the door swinging open before they even got to the top of the porch steps. "Guests are being taken in the drawing room," the little woman said to the two of them. Chris saw her scan them from head to toe, her expression cold as stone. Chris pushed his bangs to the side, suddenly realizing that he wasn't the picture of conservative San Francisco old money that he was surrounded by. He wished he'd gotten a haircut when he walked inside and saw other guests, all clean-cut and put together in gray and navy suits and pressed shirts. He and Jake stuck out with their casual unbuttoned collars and messy hair. "I'm so glad you could make it," Alec said, finding his way through the small crowd, "my mom is really excited to meet you, she thinks you're the only beacon of hope for writers our age." "I hope it's okay that I brought Jake, he's just never seen the city before, so I wanted to show him what Pacific Heights is all about. Sort of the Beverly Hills of San Francisco, right?" "Sort of," Alec said, grinning, "just not so nouveau riche." "And more forthright," Jake said, shaking his hand, "thanks for inviting us, Chris is having a great time showing me around." "So you've been to Slanted Door, Chez Panisse, the Modern Art Museum?" "We've only been here a few days," Chris said, startled when someone offered to take his jacket, he shrugged it off and handed it to her, "so we haven't seen much." "It's really awesome that you could come to this little lunch, you must be really busy all the time," Alec said. "No, it's no problem, I love free food," Chris said, patting him on the shoulder. Alec seemed tense, even more than he and Jake did, there was definitely something underlying their being there. Chris and Jake were the completely opposite of everyone else there, young, progressive, laid-back, they were there so that Alec could get a stab at his parents. It was so blatantly obvious that Chris wanted to bolt right out the door. Alec had the same green eyes as Topher, Chris noticed, vivid and bright against his skin, his light brown hair combed neatly. He was tall, his posture perfect and ever mannerism and movement seemed practiced and precise. "I want to introduce you to my mom, she's the one that set this all up," Alec said, leading both of them into what Chris assumed was the drawing room. There were more people in there, sparkling champagne being passed around on silver trays. Chris grabbed one right away, taking a sip to calm himself but surprised to find out that it wasn't champagne at all--it was apple cider. "Christopher Lewis, I'd recognize you from the magazines any day," she said, Chris was taken aback, she was almost overwhelming in her welcome, eager to please. "And Jake Gyllenhaal, I remember seeing you at the rally in Los Angeles, up there on stage preaching to the young people. Voting and reading, both are American values losing their push these days." Chris and Jake were both surprised, both expecting someone completely different, someone as conservative and stuffy as the rest of the people in attendance, both of them were completely wrong. "Winnie Clarkson, my mom, isn't exactly the wife grandma and grandpa thought they'd be getting their son married to." "I understand you graduated from Stanford, Christopher, a fine school. We just donated to the Stegner Fellowship board, you've certainly made a name for them and for yourself." "Thanks," Chris said, not knowing what else to say, "for your involvement in the arts," he added, instantly wishing he could take it back. It sounded too cheesy. Jake only nodded, grateful that Chris was doing the talking. "Your stories are excellent, Christopher, I am so happy that you're not compromising anything to get them published, I don't detect even the slightest editorial voice in your pieces." Chris gave her an uneasy smile, she seemed to know so much about him already and he hardly knew her. She was so forthright and confident that it was alarming, "Alec, can you show me where the bathroom is?" "I named you Alexander, not Alec," Winnie said, half-scolding him. He just nodded, rolling his eyes, "I'll show you, just follow me." Up a flight of curved stairs, Alec opened the door, "There's another one just a few doors down on the other side if you need it," he said to Jake, "I'll be downstairs, everyone knows how my mom is, but there's always a fight." Chris stepped inside the bathroom, lavishly decorated with marble and wood, it was exactly what he expected given the extravagance of the rest of the house. Just a second later, Jake was right behind him, clicking the door locked behind him. "Give me something to take my mind off this craziness, I can't believe this isn't just a dream," Chris said, grabbing Jake's shoulders, "this is ridiculous, I don't know how we can even talk to her if I can't even get a word in." Pulling their lips together, Jake just let the emotions take over, not the logic. He saw Chris out there, ready to work the crowd and make his publishers proud and that made him proud, knowing that Chris would go and do something he hated so that he could keep doing what he loved. He felt Chris settle, his entire body melting into kiss as his hands ran up Jake's chest to hook onto his shoulders, Jake's coming down to rest on the small of his back, everything falling into place, "We're going to sneak out of here," Jake said, "she's so impressed with the both of us we won't have to do anything at all." "She's not going to be impressed if we just leave," Chris said, his voice barely a whisper, eyes still shut, lips searching for the loss of Jake's even as he was talking, "think of something so we can get out of here." "Earthquake," Jake said, Chris' lips now moving down onto his jaw, "one's bound to happen, right? Tell her you got sick." "We'll miss out on the free food," Chris said, "you smelled the bread earlier, right?" "You want to stay?" "I'm starving," Chris said, his fingers running over Jake's taut stomach through his shirt. Jake shuddered, grabbing Chris' wrists. If they got started, he wouldn't be able to stop. "The food better be amazing," Jake said, kissing Chris again, "if we have to make conversation with those guys in there." Chris pulled away, resisting the urge to just kiss Jake again, his face flushed as he stepped back, turning to the sink to splash some cold water on his face, "You won't have to, I will," Chris said, letting out one last long breath, "here we go, I'm going to kill Vivian when we get back." *** "You guys don't need a car or anything, right?" Alec asked as he walked them out to the foyer. "No, we've got one at home," Chris said, "but I'm sure I can sell the parts." Alec's brows furrowed, it took him a few moments to get the joke, and "So you guys know your way to the BART station, right? Or the cable car?" "Do people still take the cable car?" Jake asked. "Tourists do, but yeah, real people take it to get up the hills." "It doesn't go through this neighborhood though," Chris said, "maybe we can have some Rice-a-Roni and take it later." Jake smiled, "Thanks for everything." "This is just the beginning, mom's set up a whole bunch of dinners and panels. This is the biggest event on the west coast. She lives for things like this." "What do you live for?" Chris asked, buttoning his jacket. "I'm still figuring that out," Alec said, "a degree doesn't mean anything. I studied business for my dad. I hated every minute." Jake leaned against a table, two very different people in front of him. Chris had known exactly what he wanted and did everything and anything to get it, but Alec stood there, everything provided for him, the best education, every opportunity at his fingertips and he was lost. Jake and Chris both had passion, a passion for what they did and a passion for each other, but it seemed like Alec was just following orders. "We'll keep in touch," Chris said, "we're going to stay in the city for a few days after, maybe you can get us into Slanted Door. Jake loves Vietnamese food." "I don't imagine either of you having any trouble getting into any restaurants. Not that you'll have to eat anywhere but these catered events for the next few days." "No, if you get bored, I'm sure we could use someone that knows the city better than me. It's been a while, I'm sure there's new stuff I don't know about." "I'll give you guys a call," Alec said, nodding, "I don't want to be stuck in this house any more than I have to be." *** Jake snapped his wrist, the bright blue of the Frisbee blurring through the air as it flew towards Chris. They'd survived the luncheon and managed to bow out early, the bright sunshine and cool breeze calling them to the oasis of Golden Gate Park. Chris continued to impress Jake with his knowledge of the public transportation system, just a short bus ride and there they were, the sun shining down on them, he grass crisp under their shoes and the entire city seemed to melt away as they just threw the Frisbee back and forth. Jake was just amazed at how happy Chris seemed to be in these surroundings, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face and he seemed to be genuinely excited every single time he showed Jake something, things as simple as an old theatre he used to go to and even big things like the neighborhoods he'd walk through to get inspiration for a story. He loved Haight, everything seemed to be just like he remembered, not one thing changed from those days he'd take the train in from Stanford to spend the day writing and people- watching. "Alec seems like a good guy," Jake said, "you should hold auditions for friends. He'd get the part." "A good guy for someone who lives off his parents. I bet he's never worked a day in his life," Chris said as the Frisbee whizzed through the air, snatched up in Jake's deft palm as it descended. "I'm not in the market for a new friend," Chris said, "I'm going to work on the one's I've got. Natalie said she's taking a break, we're going to hang out more." Jake nodded, happy that Chris was working with what he had, but also wishing that Chris would get away from the Hollywood crowd that he hated so much. If he was going to be spending time with Natalie, he'd be photographed and there would be rumors; Chris didn't hate anything more than attention he didn't want, he hated the paparazzi, hated seeing his picture in the tabloids when he and Jake were doing even the simplest things, Jake wanted to get him away from that. Chris had never asked for it, if anything, he asked not to be involved in it, but he couldn't control the media and neither could Jake. "He won't want to be my friend after we ditch his parties anyway," Chris said, "Vivian's crazy if she thinks that we can go to four or five of those crazy parties just so I get my name out. It's already out there enough." "Let your work talk," Jake said, sending the disk flying back towards Chris. He caught it, spinning it, finger on the rim of the plastic, "It says enough." "Yeah, but I'm taking time off after this next book comes out," Chris said, "I told you that." "Then you have nothing to worry about," Jake said, walking towards him, Chris' was fiddling with the Frisbee, feeling the dings and gouges that they'd made in it when it hit the trees and ground on accident, "just do what feels right." "Kissing you feels right," Chris said, hand running up Jake's arm, "that's about it right now." "Other things with me don't feel right?" Jake asked, smiling as their bodies pressed together, golden sunshine all around them, everyone either sunbathing or too engrossed in their own games of Frisbee and catch to notice. "I'm out of control when we do 'other things,'" Chris said, "you get into part of me I'm not used to showing other people." "I'm aware of that privilege," Jake whispered, his thumb trailing down Chris' stomach, his fingers sliding under Chris' t-shirt, thumb hooking in his bellybutton, "and some other special access I have." Chris smiled, rolling his eyes as he pushed Jake away lightly, fingers lingering on Jake's chest, "I'm starving," he said, "and I know you are too. You said before we even got to the park." "I'm not hungry for that right now," Jake said, stepping back towards Chris. He grabbed the Frisbee from Chris' hands and leaned in; Chris gave him a quick kiss, light and easy. He ran his hand down Jake's arm, taking Jake's hand in his own. "That's all you're getting for now," Chris said, not that he didn't want more; he just hated seeing people all over each other, he wasn't going to be one of those people. A short walk later, Jake realized that he and Chris were deep in the Haight district, the shop windows full of tie-dye t-shirts and reggae music blasting from open windows. Chris' smile couldn't get any bigger, "This place is insane," Jake said. He felt like he'd walked into a time warp, "this can't be real." "It's real," Chris said, "and it's going to be like this forever." His steps slowed, waiting for something to trigger his memory, he knew it was somewhere near where they were walking. "I used to come here and just listen to the crazy hippies talk to each other. They had the craziest stories. We should call Alec." Jake saw it all around him, the beginnings of Chris' method of embellished people watching, the way he picked up the littlest detail from something and wrote about that, entire stories growing from single, split-second glances or two-second snippets of an overheard conversation. Jake was having so much trouble writing his piece for Chris, finding every distraction inescapable whenever he sat down to work on it. "Tell me that the Hollywood stars aren't migrating north," Stephanie said, she was having a hard time believing her luck, "Jake Gyllenhaal and his intellectual crutch try to fit culture in when they get a chance?" "You got invited up here too?" Chris asked, taken aback; it sort of just came out, deep down, he didn't really care whether she was invited or not. "Invited to what? We live up here." Jake and Chris glanced over her shoulder, neither recognized who she was referring to, "Pacific-Union Humanities Guild," Chris said, still confused. Jake nudged Chris forward, getting inside the restaurant would be the quickest way to resolve this. "I guess we weren't invited, Joe, did you hear about it?" Chris and Jake both got a flash of recollection, Joe Trask and Stephanie Krauss; they'd all met at the Knopf event in Los Angeles. "I love those stories you're writing for Esquire, Christopher," Joe said, offering his hand, he'd obviously been kept in the dark about the entire situation that had established itself between Chris and Stephanie, "the New Yorker one though, sort of weird." "It was shit," Stephanie said. "Hey," Jake said, "no need for that." "What do you know?" Stephanie asked, voice dripping with petulance, "go fuck up another movie." "That's uncalled for, Stephanie," Joe said, grabbing her shoulder, "what's got you so worked up?" "This jackass, that's what. Cocky and selfish," she said, eyes narrowing to slits as she shot her words at Chris, "I used to like you, but you're so cutthroat and heartless. That's not what writing is about. Remember our critiques? Constructive criticism and equal opportunity?" "Chris has the biggest heart of anyone I know," Jake said, "if you just worked half as hard as he did, maybe you'd be in a better mood. Every industry is cutthroat; it's survival of the fittest no matter what you do." "Let's get inside, Jake," Chris said, turning into the restaurant, "just forget it." Stephanie fumed, her fists tight and her shoulders stiff, "Maybe we'll see you around," Joe said, trying his best to maintain some semblance of dignity, "it's great that you're up here. Good to see you." Jake nodded, giving him a slight smile, both of them were on the sidelines in this, there was no reason for bad blood between them, but Chris just ignored him, turning and stopping in the restaurant doorway. Literary feuds? Who would have thought? Jake put a hand on Chris' shoulder, feeling how tense it was. "Forget it, Chris, it'll blow over," Jake said, instantly feeling Chris calm down. He let out a sigh, hoping that he was right. "What was that all about?" Alec asked, walking towards them. "You saw the whole thing?" Chris asked, "she's just someone I went to school with." "Another writer? What's her name?" "Stephanie Krauss," Jake said, "she had a problem with Chris' last story in the New Yorker." "She submitted something too, I guess they said she'd get printed but the pulled her last minute." Alec listened, nodding, "Anger won't get her very far," he said, "I'm sure she's harmless." "It's nothing, forget about it," Chris said, "let's just get some food." "I haven't been in this neighborhood in a long time," Alec said. "Chris said it doesn't change." "It's the same now as it always was," Chris said. "Some things don't change," Alec said, "sometimes that's good and sometimes that's bad." Alec had a lot to say for someone who lived life with a silver spoon, Jake thought. Sure, he had his share of privilege, but even he had to wait tables for a few summers. Chris seemed to find an interest in Alec's views, how he seemed to filter everything through his blue blood and his parent's opinions. "I'm starving, and that's got to change," Chris said, stepping into the restaurant, "so you can talk about the philosophy of change, but I'm getting food." *** Chris couldn't believe how much influence the Clarkson family, namely Winnie Clarkson, had on the world of literature. She was not only a major investor in Random House, she put a lot of money into Conde Nast, the publishers of Vogue and the New Yorker, and Paramount, the studio that was spearheading the literary film movement. She had her hands in so many different parts of the industry that he was surprised it'd taken so long for him to meet her. As he walked back to the hotel room from the elevator, one hand holding a tray of coffees and the other holding a bag of bagels, he wondered if the Clarksons had been keeping an eye on him, following his work from the very beginning, using their influence to get his name out there. Winnie seemed to be really familiar with everything he'd ever done, strangely so. He couldn't stop thinking about it, figured it was just the city and this sudden wave of self-doubt. Stephanie's angry face, her voice, everything about her was stuck in Chris' head, reminding him over and over that it might not be his work that got him this far, it could have just been his name or his connection to Jake or the invisible push of a certain influential San Franciscan family. "I'm starving," Jake said, "for you and for the food," he grinned, grabbing the bag from Chris as he opened the door. His hand wrapped around Chris' neck, fingers at the back of his head as he pulled their lips together. Chris could smell him, fresh and clean from the shower, drops of water still on the ends of his hair and sprinkled across his chest. Chris' free hand traced the contours of Jake's chest, lips opening slightly for Jake's tongue, the warmth sliding into him as Jake grabbed the coffee, setting it on the table behind him. Chris' head went blank, Jake's fingers tracing up his stomach as their lips crashed together again. He couldn't keep a coherent thought as Jake's body pressed against his, "This is where you drive me crazy," Chris said, voice breathy, the familiar feel of Jake's warm body against his, the comforting scratch of Jake's beard against his own skin pushing all the worries out of his head. "I haven't even gotten started yet," Jake whispered, grinning. Chris' head leaned back, Jake's lips on his neck, his fingers tangled in Jake's thick hair. Jake's hot breath against his neck sent a shiver through his body, his eyes shutting as he felt his body react to Jake, sparks from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He didn't know what had gotten Jake so riled up, but he wasn't going to question it when Jake's hands pulled at his shirt, Chris' own fingers deftly undoing his own jeans, the thick denim falling to the ground as Jake's towel dropped beside it. Chris groaned, Jake's hands running down his back, their lips together again as Jake ground their bodies together, ever muscle, every inch of their bodies fitting together as Jake pushed him against the wall of the hallway. Chris jumped at the sudden thud, his body stiffening as Jake pulled his underwear off, he didn't even realize he was on his toes, tingling as he kept his mind on Jake's lips, Jake's fingers sending chills through his body as he slid his hand down Chris' sides, fist wrapping around Chris' cock. Jake grinned when he felt Chris freeze, his body slumping against Jake's body as his fingers moved up and down, pre-cum slicking his fingers. Chris gripped his shoulders, head thrown back against the wall as bit his lip, Jake's well- practiced fingers knowing exactly how to push him hard and fast, thumb running over the head, Jake's other hand stroking his balls as he just tried to hold on. He kissed Jake again, finally landing on his feet as Jake broke the kiss to nip at Chris' neck, his hard cock rubbing against Chris' body, skin slick with the water from his shower and their sweat. Groaning, Chris could barely remember to breathe when Jake stopped, his body suddenly devoid of all sensation, an expectant tingle whipping through his body. Jake's lips moved down his chest, Chris' fingers in his hair again as Jake's tongue lapped at his stomach, the fleeting movements sending shivers up his chest. Jake lapped at Chris' balls before licking one long stroke up his length, bringing a long groan from Chris' lips, there was suddenly not enough air in the room, not enough in his body to register what was going on. There was just Jake's tongue on his cock, Jake's fingers on his balls, and Jake's hair in his fingers. Chris was breathing so hard he thought he'd pass out, Jake's throat squeezing his length, his tongue running circles over the head of his cock. He pulled Jake off, but was too slow, before he could do anything, his entire body shook and he almost doubled over, thick ribbons of cum shooting in to Jake's mouth, Chris' head pressed against the wall as he slid down, his knees giving way as his body was overwhelmed, sensation coming from every part of his body. Jake was breathing hard, his cock stiff and throbbing as the both of them caught their breath, Chris reaching over to kiss Jake, still breathless as he brought their lips together. Jake ran his hand over Chris' jaw, his body moving over Chris', warm skin on skin, lips connecting, "Bed, Chris, we can't out on the floor," Jake said. Chris could only nodding, stumbling as he got to his feet, legs still unsteady. Jake grabbed his hand and they practically ran to the bedroom, Jake's eyes on Chris' back, the muscles moving under his smooth, tan skin; eyes moving down to Chris' ass, a smile on his lips as Chris turned around at the foot of the bed, their lips meeting for another kiss, Chris' hand finally reaching down to Jake's hard cock, the thick shaft pulsing in his hand. He felt a low groan come from deep inside Jake's chest. "What are you waiting for, Jake?" Chris asked, eyes still closed. He felt Jake's hand on his chest, pushing him down onto the messy bed. "What do you want?" Jake asked stroking his cock, pre-cum smearing his length. He loved hearing Chris say it, to feel Chris give into the passion. Chris' gaze was hungry, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "You know what I want." His hand ran down over his cock, down past his balls, a finger slipping into his own asshole. Jake watched, his cock leaking pre-cum as his eyes followed Chris' finger, a low grunt coming from Chris' mouth as he stretched himself open, a second finger sliding alongside the first as Chris arched up onto his shoulders, body long and lithe, every long muscle pronounced before Jake's hungry eyes, "I want you." "I'm yours," Jake said, pulling at Chris' wrist, sliding two fingers deep into Chris' hole, crooking it at the knuckle right a Chris' prostate, a long groan, almost a grown sliding from Chris' lips. Jake leaned down, his body sliding against Chris' sweat-slick chest as they kissed again, Jake pulling Chris back towards the end of the bed, wrapping one leg around his waist, bringing the other one up to his shoulder. "I'm all yours," Jake said as he slid his cock in, inch after inch sliding into the warm tightness, a gasp coming from Chris as he slipped in, his own head thrown back. Spreading his legs to steady himself, Jake pulled out, Chris' leg tensing behind him, trying to keep his entire length deep inside. Jake moaned as he felt the tight muscle sheathing his entire length, every inch of his cock in the tight warmth as he thrust in and out, long smooth strokes pulling Chris' body with his, his mouth open in a silent groan, sweat running down his temples and his chest. Chris' knuckles were white as he tugged at the sheets, double fists of fabric as Jake thrust in and out, every push and pull tossing his head from side to side. He thought it was too much before, Jake's hot mouth on his cock, but this, Jake's thick cock stretching him open, their bodies connected as the head of Jake's cock slid across his prostate, every pass sending a drop of pearly white from his cock. Jake leaned down, lips on Chris' neck as he kept thrusting, moving faster now, harder as he felt the tingle in his balls. Chris' hands gripped at his shoulders, feeling Jake thrust hard as he slid onto the bed, spreading Chris' legs further apart and thrusting harder and deeper. Groaning, Jake rested his forehead on Chris' shoulder, body running on adrenaline, movements erratic and natural, instinctual. He felt like he was holding on by his fingernails, edging closer and closer as he reached down to stroke Chris' cock, a deep groan coming from Chris as he felt it, body overwhelmed on two fronts. A few strokes and Chris grabbed Jake's wrist, freezing it in place as he kept thrusting, sliding into the Chris again and again, wishing that it could go on forever. Slamming in hard, he felt Chris shudder, felt the tight squeeze around his cock as he opened his eyes to see Chris shoot, hot cum splashing up his chest, his entire body rigid, holding his breath as he just felt the sensation wash over him, crash over him like the waves back at home. Jake shuddered, thrusting hard again when he felt Chris start to relax, long hard thrusts back into Chris' shuddering hole. He froze and came hard, thick spurts of cum shooting deep into Chris, shivers through his body as he collapsed down onto Chris, their lips coming together one more time, Chris' hands at the back of Jake's neck. "I'm yours," Chris whispered, lips at Jake's ear, "forever." Jake felt his heart slow down, breathing returning to normal as he relaxed on top of Chris' body, bagels and coffee completely forgotten as he settled against Chris, hand running down Chris' back as he felt Chris relax against him. "Forever," Jake whispered, knowing that Chris was already starting to fall asleep, he kissed him one more time, slow and soft, "forever." *** Chris leaned against Jake's body, the smooth downward motion of the elevator forgotten as he felt Jake's strong body against his, his hands on Jake's hips as the smell of aftershave and musky cologne filled his senses, nose pressed into Jake's shoulder. Jake's hand ran up his back, "Tired?" "No, you just smell so good," Chris said. Jake smiled, kissing his forehead softly as the doors slid open. Chris followed Jake out of the elevator, the gray sky greeting them through the huge windows of the hotel. As they walked from the elevator to the revolving doors, the same path they'd taken for the past few days, Chris noticed that there were more people in the lobby than normal, and when he glanced out the door, he stopped, dead in his tracks. Photographers? Was there someone else staying in the hotel? Nobody knew that he and Jake were in town, everything was kept really quiet, nobody cared about writers. "Whoa, what's going on?" "Shit," Jake groaned, "how did they find out?" "Goddamn it," Chris said, inching a little closer to Jake, "something must have gotten out. Fuck." "We'll be inside all day, they can't follow us everywhere," Jake said, "same BART station as always, right?" "Yeah," Chris said, voice still unsure, "same as always." "Let's just do it," Jake said, "you've done this before. Just walk." Jake gave him a little push and he found himself walking through the doors, flashes going off like a lightning storm as they walked right past them, faces down and posture stiff. It was too good to be true, Chris thought, those few days when they could just walk around, toss the Frisbee at the park without having to worry about being in the rags the next week. "Nothing to see today, guys," Jake said as he walked past them, Chris' steps were rushed and hurried, but Jake wasn't far behind. As soon as they disappeared down into the train station, there were no more flashes. Chris sighed, leaning against a pillar. He felt Jake's fingers on his chin, lifting his head so that their eyes meeting in the dimly lit train stop, "Hey, I'm sorry. It's part of the job." "Yeah," Chris said, "but not here. This is where I thought we could go to get away from that." "They'll forget about us one day," Jake said, "I just don't know how they could have known." "It doesn't matter," Chris said, "let's just get to the museum, I guess they heard about the party tonight. That's all I can think of." "How does anyone know about that?" "It was in the Chronicle yesterday," Chris said as they stepped onto the train, "but I don't know how they knew you'd be here, you don't usually come to these things with me." Jake nodded, he usually let Chris take the spotlight for his work, "Forget about it." Chris nodded, but Jake could tell he was still running the scenarios through his head, eyes focused on the window even though there was nothing but blackness on the other side. "Nobody takes me seriously," Chris said, eyes still focused on the glass, "even when I'm at these book things, I feel like people don't care about what I have to say, they only care because I have connections to you and to Stephen Soderbergh. I thought I wouldn't mind being a misfit, but I do." "That's not true and you know it," Jake said, "you have a bookcase full of awards, you have people lining up to see you, and you have me. I read every word you write." "I know," Chris said, "but it's like to other writers...I don't even exist. I'm nobody." "Stop," Jake said, "listen to yourself. You're crazy. You got us this trip to San Francisco, didn't you? I haven't seen you so excited about something in a long time." "I just wanted it to be me and you," Chris said, "screw the book people, screw the mansion parties, I just wanted me and you. Us and my favorite pizza place, City Lights, all that stuff." "Who cares?" Jake said, "we're not changing anything. We can still get pizza. We're still going to the museum, aren't we? What crazy Rothkos do they have? More Warhol? What are we going to see?" "They have everything," Chris said, relaxing as he remembered the long days he'd spend at the museum, bathing in the grandeur of all the crazy progressive art that he tried to understand, still tried to appreciate. "See, that's all you have to do," Jake said, leaning closer to Chris, "forget about them and they're gone." Chris nodded and as they stepped out of the BART station and into the light, the sun just breaking through the fog, he knew Jake was right. He could ignore billboards, commercials, and junk-mail, the photographers weren't any worse. As they walked towards the museum, Jake threw an arm around Chris' shoulders, "Nothing to it. We live our lives and they live theirs." *** "He's having lunch with another writer in Berkeley," Jake said, flipping through the latest Esquire magazine, "so I'm thinking that I have to ask him. Soon, too, I don't know if he's expecting something." Maggie didn't know what to say, she knew she'd slipped but didn't know if Jake knew that Chris had a little inkling of what he was going to do, "What are you going to do? He already has a ring." "He's been really down lately, the press followed us up here and he's been on edge at all the events we've gone to, he so worried about messing things up. I want to show him that he's appreciated. I want you there, I want Peter there, we're his family." "Poor kid," Maggie said, "of all the families to get himself into, he chooses ours." "He's not a kid." "You know what I mean, Jake. He's young--you can't deny that. He's got a lot ahead of him." "And I want to be there with him the whole time. I want him to know that I want to experience everything with him." "Who is he having lunch with?" "Michael Chabon, have you heard of him?" "He's amazing, won a Pulitzer. He wrote the Spiderman movies, too." "Really? He didn't say," Jake said, "no wonder Chris looks up to him." "Yeah, he's probably getting some real advice instead of our bullshit," Maggie said, giggling. Jake wasn't sure what to think, if he was having lunch with someone who had hands in both of the industries Chris was in, maybe he was thinking about another movie. Maybe they were talking about movies, maybe Michael Chabon would give Chris some advice juggling writing and movies. Movies, movies, movies, everyone seemed to want Chris to do another one and Jake was the only person that didn't say anything about it. If Chris wanted to, he'd support it, audition for it again for sure, but he wasn't going to push it. "So you want to come up here? I can wait until we get back home, we can do it at the house." "I'll do whatever you want," Maggie said, "but he's a homebody, you should do it somewhere special." "Yeah, but you should see him up here. He loves it," Jake said. "Give me the world and I'll be there," Maggie said, "anywhere. I'm not going to miss it for anything." "I'll give you a call." "I love you, just think about what he wants too. You're hopeless, I know, but some things I just can't figure out about him." "He's like a puzzle. Maybe one day I'll figure him out. Someday." --- Feedback? E-mail: christopherrluu@gmail.com