You Do What You Have To - 1

 

(This story originally came out in July of 2015 from a now defunct publisher.)

 

"Very nice," the man—he'd told Micky his name was John—said, his gaze raking over Micky's naked body. Micky crawled onto the bed, ending up between John's legs. "Condom?" Micky asked. Seconds later, John handed him one.

 

A good deal later, John said, "Not bad. Not bad at all." He ruffled Micky's hair then got up, going into the bathroom. Micky heard water running, knew he was cleaning up, and soon he was back, saying, as he picked up his jeans, "Your turn. There's a washcloth and towel on the rack by the sink."

 

Micky nodded, easing off the sticky sheets, realizing his chest was equally as gummy. He went into the bathroom, closing the door, and took his time washing up and taking a leak. He was about to return to the bedroom when he thought he heard a door open. He frowned, wondering if John had forgotten to tell him something. Like he had a housemate—or live-in lover.

 

This could be real awkward if that's the case.

 

Micky waited, hoping whoever was there would leave. Then there were two sharp reports. At first Micky thought it was a car backfiring. For a moment there was silence, then a door slammed, followed quickly by a groan and the sound—if Micky didn't miss his guess—of a window opening. Cautiously he opened the bathroom door, wondering what was going on.

 

It took him only a second to realize it hadn't been backfires that he'd heard. There was a large, reddish stain on the bed sheets and a trail of what he knew had to be blood leading to the window. The sill was bloody, and when Micky crept over and peered out, he saw more blood on the ground beneath him, but no sign of John.

 

Shaking like a leaf, Micky backed away, turning to look at the closed bedroom door. What if the guy comes back? What if he knew I was here and comes back to shoot me as well? No. If he'd known, he'd have tried to kill me then and there. Right?

 

Convincing himself that was true, Micky quickly gathered up his clothes and began to dress. As he did, he noticed something lying on the floor just under the armchair where John's clothes had ended up when he'd undressed, less than an hour earlier. Now, all that was on the chair was a shirt and John's shoes were still next to the dresser where he'd kicked them off. More curious than frightened at the moment, Micky picked up the object. It was a wallet. John's wallet, he was certain. He opened it and stared at the driver's license behind the plastic window. The face was John's. The name wasn't.

 

Well, I guess it's his name, but not the one he told me.

 

He set the wallet on the dresser and finished getting dressed. As he was tying his shoelaces, he suddenly realized something—something that scared him more than he'd already been. Someone's going to come in here, see all the blood and…and call the cops. Maybe I should do that. But…how do I explain what happened when I don't know? And what if they think I shot John? Or Gary, if that's his real name. Will they believe this really was just a one-night stand? That I met…Gary…at a bar and came home with him? Not like I can prove it, since we didn't leave together.

 

John had hit on Micky while they both were watching guys on the dance floor. They'd talked a bit, gone to the bar to get more beer and chatted a while. Then John—Gary—had suggested they go to his place. Micky hadn't been averse to the idea. The man had seemed nice, was good-looking with his short, dark hair and blue eyes, and Micky was horny. John had told him he was parked behind the bar, described his car then asked Micky to wait a couple of minutes before coming out to meet him there.

 

That was definitely strange, but I wasn't about to argue. Maybe I should have. Maybe? Hell, I definitely should have. Should have figured something was off and said 'No'. But I didn't and now I'm in the middle of…of a murder? Or an attempted one, since it seems like Gary's still alive. Or he was when he jumped out the window. Micky barely smiled. Damned good thing for him the house is only one story.