The Gift

Chapter 4: He’s a Magic Man-1

Chapter 4: He’s a Magic Man

August

He woke to knocking and fumbled for his cell phone. If the lack of lighting in the room was an actual indication of time, someone was going to die. He confirmed the time and nodded. He’d been asleep less than three hours. As such, August wasn’t sure if he yelled the words “It’s not even six A.M. yet!” or just thought them loud enough that it felt like it.

“Auggie? Auggie!”

Knock, knock, knock, was followed by bang, bang, bang and August frowned in bitter annoyance. If that kept up, they were going to be kicked out of the hotel mere hours after they’d arrived. And not for the fun stuff that should be the reason rock stars got kicked out of hotels.

He gritted his teeth and got out of bed, opening the door with exaggerated aggravation. “One,” he snarled, “I warned you about calling me Auggie. And two, if you have any fondness whatsoever for your testicles, this better be important.”

Doren’s smile grew, his eyes sweeping August from top to bottom. “Nice jammies.”

August lifted an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me right now?” He stopped speaking and forced a smile on his face. “What is it, Doren? How can I help you?”

“By coming with me,” Doren gushed, all excitement and teeth and grabby hands. “I need to show you something.”

“It is six in the morning! Could it not wait?”

Doren’s only reply was to grab August’s hand and tug him into the hall.

“I thought music people didn’t get up early,” August grumped.

Doren turned and winked. “I haven’t been to bed yet.”

August rolled his eyes as he was pulled down the hallway. This had better not be the start of a nasty habit. He liked his sleep. August was pretty sure there was nothing in their agreement that said he had to join his boss on early morning escapades.

“Where are we going?” With his free hand August tugged at his shirt. “I need a robe or something. I can’t wander the halls like this.” While Doren was still fully dressed, August was in pajama pants and a T-shirt with bare feet. The hallway was freezing compared to the warm bed.

He hissed at the tile when they arrived at the stairs. “Cold! I need shoes. Or socks. Something—” His arm was yanked again, his complaint disregarded, and August was forced to follow, muttering, mostly to himself, about bad life choices. He stood at the heavy door that led out of the stairwell and into the lobby while Doren poked his head out.

“Okay,” Doren whispered, grinning like a twelve-year-old playing hooky. “All clear.”

“We can’t go in there,” August said when they reached the far end of the hall, suspiciously eyeing the sign on the door that Doren reached for. “The sign says it’s closed until seven.”

Doren waved him off. “I go where I want.” Then he turned to flash another smile. “This is so cool! Wait until you see it.”

When he followed Doren through the door there was no other word August could come up with but “Wow!” He stood in awe, staring around at what he was sure was one of the most enchanting spaces he’d seen in his life: concrete walls painted with images of toga-clad bathers and flitting cupids, clouds and flowers and birds. An alluring mist drifted along the surface of a crystalline pool.

“It looks like one of those Roman bathhouses,” August said, stepping deeper into the room and sounding more pleased than he’d have been able to fake at six in the morning for the best of circumstances.

Doren smiled, flicking one of the switches on the wall, and the pool was suddenly illuminated from under the water. “I knew you’d like it. It’s a salt-water pool. Neat, right?”

“Yes, actually. What makes the water all misty like that?”

“It’s heated.” Doren’s eyes fell to the front of August’s shirt, smirking. “And as we can both see the room is chilly. You could cut glass with those, my friend. Point being, voila, fog.”

August’s forehead creased; he crossed his arms over his chest. It was a thin shirt. And he hadn’t been granted an opportunity to change before he’d left the room, either. Besides, he was man. He wasn’t about to be made self-conscious over the existence of his n*****s. “Mist,” he corrected. “Not fog. And keep your eyeballs to yourself. You’re a pig.”

Doren shrugged. “Nah, just a man.”

“As am I—” August started to say.

“Which means one would think you’d understand,” Doren finished for him. “Come on.” Before August could say anything else, Doren popped open his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them while he pulled off his top.

Once again August found himself staring, dumbfounded. Doren had nothing on underneath the jeans and stood as naked as the dad he was born. If August had thought to bring his phone, if he deigned to take a picture, he’d be able to sell that picture for enough money to not only pay for college, but tutors, rent, and somebody to write his papers for him. How Doren managed to get the balls to dare to do what he was doing in a public place, not to mention the fact that he was trusting August to do it in front of him, was more than just a little bit insane, in August’s opinion.

Without another word Doren turned and dove into the pool. Water broke to grant him entry, his body was illuminated by underwater lighting, and God but it was a pretty sight. August had to give him that. August had, in fact, never seen anyone quite like him. Not that he’d spent a lot of time with actual in-your-face naked men, but he’d seen, read, and rehearsed enough porn from both amateur and professional, to know that Doren’s body was one of the good ones.

Doren popped through the surface of the pool, shaking water out of his dark hair. “You coming?”

“Uh, no?” August snorted a laugh. “I’m in my pajamas. I didn’t bring a suit.”

“So?” Doren’s expression was either smug or confused, August couldn’t tell which. “Neither did I.”

August rolled his eyes. “Forget it. I am not skinny dipping in a hotel pool.”

Doren shrugged and leaned back in the water, floating on the surface. “If you’re too chicken to strip, come in like that then.”

The pool did look inviting. And it had to be warmer in the water than standing on the concrete floor. Besides, trying to remain professional and keep his eyes off Doren’s bare body was difficult. “What if we get caught? The sign said the pool didn’t open until—”

“Come on, Auggie!” Doren patted the water beside him. “Don’t be such a suck. When will you ever get to experience something like this again?”

“Um, at seven? When the pool opens—”

“Besides,” Doren drawled, completely dismissing the argument. “What if I start to drown or something?” He flailed his arms mockingly. “I’ll need you to save me.”

When he didn’t get a response, Doren righted himself and walked toward the edge of the pool. “Come on…” he held the last word so long he sounded like a four-year-old who was late for his nap.

August cast his eyes around the room, unsure. No one was around, sure, but what if someone came in? Would he end up in trouble because he hadn’t stopped Doren from getting in trouble? Would he lose any shred of respect Doren had for him if he acted like a prude, or would the lack of respect come from giving in too easily? He hovered at the edge of the pool, gingerly testing the water with his foot.

Doren reached up teasingly for his ankle. “Come on, Aug,” he whispered around a grin. “Don’t make me come get you.”

“I’m thinking.” August kicked at the water to get Doren away. “Back off.”

Doren laughed and before August could do a thing about it, Doren grabbed his ankle and gave August a good, solid tug. There was no recovering from it. Attempting grace, failing miserably, August tried to twist into a dive but managed no more than shutting his eyes and his mouth. By the time he struggled back up to the surface, Doren was far enough away that the slap of water August sent his way didn’t even come close.

“Lesson number one: don’t tell me what to do,” Doren said, his voice low and amused. Then he was gone, twisting like a fish and disappearing into the misty water.

As annoyed as August was, he had to admit the water had a pretty cool feel to it. It was perfectly warm, a little bit ethereal with the mist rolling around on the surface, and the salt gave it a neat buoyancy. It was a lure August chose not to resist. As Doren was already floating again with his eyes closed and a lazy smile lifting the corners of his mouth, August followed suit, sighing to himself.

The room was quiet but for the soft echoes of moving water and the occasional drip. For the longest time they rested on the water, and August would not have been able to swear he managed to stay awake completely. He opened his eyes when Doren began to hum: a soft, murmuring chord that filled the room and echoed against the walls, bouncing back to weave together with the new tones coming at it. It sounded familiar enough that August thought he should have been able to place it, but the notes, or lyrics, or whatever it should have been kept slipping out of his mind’s reach. He listened for a while, letting the notes sink into his memory before curiosity got the better of him. “What is that? What are you singing?”

“Oh, come on.” Doren’s voice was distant, quiet. “Try harder. You know it.”

August turned his face to see where Doren had drifted and was surprised to find them much closer to each other than sound would have had him believe. The much cooler air lifted exhilarating goose bumps on his wet cheek and chest, while the warm, light water teased around the rest of his body. It was an odd, not entirely pleasant sensation. “No. Maybe. It’s familiar. What is it?”

Without opening his eyes, Doren reached out as if searching for August, but August didn’t reach back. Doren simply sighed and stopped trying. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He started to hum again.

It seemed as though the sounds of the room had become something orchestral: a dreamy, pick-you-up-and-take-you-away mix of chords, like one would hear in a massage parlor or a spiritual event. It had to be the pool, August figured—maybe the weird, floaty feeling of the salt-water and the strange warm-yet-cold sensation of the pool versus the air. Because not only was the sound making him feel sleepy and distant, August was also starting to feel a little disconnected and more than a bit lightheaded. “That’s ridiculous, Doren. Why wouldn’t I believe you?”

Doren opened his eyes, caught August’s gaze and held it. “It’s the water, Auggie. I’m singing the music that the water makes. Close your eyes. Listen. Maybe you can hear it.”

Although August kept his eyes open—convinced he might slip into sleep or something even deeper than that if he shut them—Doren once again began to hum. The music slipped around them, as if in time with the swirling water. When Doren spoke again, he was only doing that: speaking. But somehow it seemed like the music was still coming at the same time as the words, as if his voice could do both. “Do you remember? When you were a kid? You’d slide under the water in the tub and listen to that sound, Aug. I know you did. We all did.” He hummed two notes, then spoke again. “Thrum, thrum, swish. Click, drip, thrum. Remember that? Can you hear it now?”

And damned but if August’s memory wasn’t tingling with the all but forgotten moments—how they felt, how they sounded, the mood it inspired. It was a good memory and an even nicer song. It was…he thought hard…it sounded like…

“Give me your hand,” Doren murmured. “Give me your hand and I’ll show you.”

August wasn’t sure why he reached out. Truthfully, he almost didn’t. For whatever reason, he was scared to do it, and almost powerless not to. Their fingertips touched and a rush of electricity pulsed through August’s blood. He startled, but instead of pulling away he wrapped his fingers around Doren’s, clinging. The intensity of the weird connection grew. He caught his breath. He wanted more. There was something…more…he just had to reach farther, grip tighter—

A loud bang sent August’s mind spiraling. He felt like he was falling as he yanked his hand away and found his feet. Something similar to nausea flipped through him as Doren disappeared into the water. The soft sound in the room was replaced with the loud chatter of children. August cringed, trying to catch his bearings while he processed that the bang had been the door of the pool room. Oh, no.

He turned toward two preteens preparing a space with towels and pop cans and an iPod, their skinny bodies clad in tight swimwear, getting an early start on the day before anyone else arrived to hush them into controlled silence. And right there beside them, looking as nonchalant as a pile of something could, rested Doren’s clothes. August swam to the other side of the pool and pulled himself from the water. He had to choke back a laugh when Doren’s head popped out of the water only inches away. “A little help here?”

As though on swivels, both of the young girls turned their heads in the direction of his voice. August groaned. He hushed Doren with a finger, the headlines already floating through his mind: Rock star exposes himself to twelve-year-old girls in hotel; parents mortified, children traumatized, public in hysterics! While he could walk over and get Doren’s clothes, he was sure that would probably end up drawing more attention. After all, Doren would still have to put them on, and it would make no sense that someone was getting dressed in the pool.

He stood, paying the girls no obvious attention, and grabbed one of the towels from the stack provided by the hotel.

“Here.” August thrust the towel under the surface of the water. “Be quick. And be quiet.” Doren brought the towel to the surface of the water, disbelief darkening his face. “Just do it!” August hissed.

With a disgusted click of his tongue, Doren reached into the water and struggled to fix the towel around his waist. He was slim, which helped, but not small enough to be served perfectly by the poor excuse of a towel. Gravity wasn’t helping either. As wet as the towel was, the moment Doren tried to climb out of the pool using the ladder, the knot holding the towel in place gave up. August gaped, Doren grabbed for it, and at the last second caught both sides in his fist.

“You hold that like your life depends on it,” August whispered. He grabbed another towel and draped it over Doren’s shoulders. Though they were drawing the girls’ attention, Doren was facing August and they had yet to recognize the man for the rock star that he was.

Doren gripped the towel hard enough to whiten his knuckles. “And now?” he asked.

“Now we move our asses and pray you don’t get seen,” August said. “Leave your clothes, I’ll get them later.”

It was August’s turn to yank Doren toward the hallway, but when they reached the door, Doren stopped. He looked at August, grinned a sudden and feral grin, and turned back to the pool. As if he’d called them, both girls spun in his direction. He flashed them a smile and a wink.

“Doren!” August scolded, exasperated. As the excited peals of joy and disbelief began to bounce around the walls of the poolroom, August dragged Doren into the hallway.