his belongings in the dismal motel room while Rory showered.
He hung his clothes neatly in the closet, knowing his eye-catching coats were out of the question for a while. His still-painful hand ached and throbbed as he tried to put on a plain linen shirt with buttons instead of the T-shirt he’d been wearing. He was tired, in pain, and felt impossibly foolish.
He felt safe with Rory, his knight-errant. It was Rory with whom he had laughed and cried and curled up on the floor like a teenager. But Rory wasn’t just his knight; he was everyone else’s as well.
When the realization dawned that Rory was a compulsive hero, it did nothing but make him feel…unremarkable. He sat down at the battered desk, reflexively opening and closing the drawers to see what, if anything, was inside. He had thought, had hoped, that Rory’s protective attitude reflected a growing regard for him.
When Avery had sailed across the room to him and leaped into his arms, the inescapable truth about Rory painfully occurred to him, and not, he was ashamed to admit, even for the first time. Rory was a straight man. He looked right somehow with Avery in his arms.
Rory returned from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel tied low around his hips. The cuts and bruises that covered his body were so numerous and ferocious that there was no place, anywhere, where Yamane could see untouched and unrelieved skin.
Suddenly, the long night and the gravity of the situation caught up with Yamane, and bile rose in his throat. He ran to the bathroom, barely making it in time to be violently sick in the toilet. He felt gentle hands pull back his hair and a cool, damp towel next to his face.
He gratefully accepted it and wiped his mouth, feeling more foolish still. Even in this, Rory Drawn Together
61
was there for him. Rory left so he could put himself back together. When at last he came out of the bathroom, Rory was lying on one of the beds.
“Are you okay?” Rory asked. “Can I do anything?”
“It’s fine.” Yamane got into the other bed, trying to plump up his flat, rubbery little pillow.
“You know, that’s not the usual reaction I get to my naked body,” Rory teased.
“Throwing up, I mean. I’d say that was a first.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” Yamane turned away.
“At least it’s over for now. I’m going to sleep for six hours, and then I have someplace to go. I set the alarm. We can eat together first, if you like.”
“I’d like that.” Yamane sighed. He’d had very few male friends over the years, when he thought about it. Plenty of straight men had been happy to take what he had to give. He knew Rory was different. Rory wouldn’t just accept a man in lieu of a woman because it was convenient. For some reason, that made him like Rory even more, damn him. Wondering what the next adventure might bring, he fell into an uneasy sleep.
* * * * *
At around five in the afternoon, Rory and Yamane had dinner and walked along the strip, taking in the rather dismal late afternoon sights. The noise in the street was terrible and the heat oppressive.
Not for the first time, Yamane was asking himself why he drove a man he really liked to a hotel so that man could meet up with a woman.
“I’ll try to get some pay-as-you-go cell phones, but call Avery’s from the hotel phone if there’s anything you need,” said Rory. “You still have the number, right?”
“Rory, I’m not your child. You can actually leave me alone and go out for the evening.”
“Don’t stay up too late, and don’t watch anything scary on television.” On a more serious note, Rory added, “I should be back by dawn, or I’ll call you.” Yamane didn’t remember when he ever felt as alien as he did now. This was a part of America he’d never experienced. His love of quiet beauty and his natural shyness combined to make this more difficult for him than he’d imagined.
Rory seemed to sense his mood. “This is where I need to
He hung his clothes neatly in the closet, knowing his eye-catching coats were out of the question for a while. His still-painful hand ached and throbbed as he tried to put on a plain linen shirt with buttons instead of the T-shirt he’d been wearing. He was tired, in pain, and felt impossibly foolish.
He felt safe with Rory, his knight-errant. It was Rory with whom he had laughed and cried and curled up on the floor like a teenager. But Rory wasn’t just his knight; he was everyone else’s as well.
When the realization dawned that Rory was a compulsive hero, it did nothing but make him feel…unremarkable. He sat down at the battered desk, reflexively opening and closing the drawers to see what, if anything, was inside. He had thought, had hoped, that Rory’s protective attitude reflected a growing regard for him.
When Avery had sailed across the room to him and leaped into his arms, the inescapable truth about Rory painfully occurred to him, and not, he was ashamed to admit, even for the first time. Rory was a straight man. He looked right somehow with Avery in his arms.
Rory returned from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel tied low around his hips. The cuts and bruises that covered his body were so numerous and ferocious that there was no place, anywhere, where Yamane could see untouched and unrelieved skin.
Suddenly, the long night and the gravity of the situation caught up with Yamane, and bile rose in his throat. He ran to the bathroom, barely making it in time to be violently sick in the toilet. He felt gentle hands pull back his hair and a cool, damp towel next to his face.
He gratefully accepted it and wiped his mouth, feeling more foolish still. Even in this, Rory Drawn Together
61
was there for him. Rory left so he could put himself back together. When at last he came out of the bathroom, Rory was lying on one of the beds.
“Are you okay?” Rory asked. “Can I do anything?”
“It’s fine.” Yamane got into the other bed, trying to plump up his flat, rubbery little pillow.
“You know, that’s not the usual reaction I get to my naked body,” Rory teased.
“Throwing up, I mean. I’d say that was a first.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” Yamane turned away.
“At least it’s over for now. I’m going to sleep for six hours, and then I have someplace to go. I set the alarm. We can eat together first, if you like.”
“I’d like that.” Yamane sighed. He’d had very few male friends over the years, when he thought about it. Plenty of straight men had been happy to take what he had to give. He knew Rory was different. Rory wouldn’t just accept a man in lieu of a woman because it was convenient. For some reason, that made him like Rory even more, damn him. Wondering what the next adventure might bring, he fell into an uneasy sleep.
* * * * *
At around five in the afternoon, Rory and Yamane had dinner and walked along the strip, taking in the rather dismal late afternoon sights. The noise in the street was terrible and the heat oppressive.
Not for the first time, Yamane was asking himself why he drove a man he really liked to a hotel so that man could meet up with a woman.
“I’ll try to get some pay-as-you-go cell phones, but call Avery’s from the hotel phone if there’s anything you need,” said Rory. “You still have the number, right?”
“Rory, I’m not your child. You can actually leave me alone and go out for the evening.”
“Don’t stay up too late, and don’t watch anything scary on television.” On a more serious note, Rory added, “I should be back by dawn, or I’ll call you.” Yamane didn’t remember when he ever felt as alien as he did now. This was a part of America he’d never experienced. His love of quiet beauty and his natural shyness combined to make this more difficult for him than he’d imagined.
Rory seemed to sense his mood. “This is where I need to
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