Saving Mr. Bell

Chapter Seventeen

Rudolf

The last few days had lasted both a lifetime and no time at all. And yes, I recognized that wasn’t possible, but that was how it felt. Arlo and I were inseparable. We’d baked bread together. Mostly Arlo, with me watching and pretending I was interested in what he was doing rather than just him. We’d chopped wood. Complete role reversal there, with Arlo doing the watching and urging me to do it shirtless so he could take some photos to sell to the media. We’d bickered during both.

We’d gone for long walks in the snow without running into any more wolves. We’d played stupid board games that I’d deny playing until my last breath, but that had made me laugh so much I couldn’t breathe. We’d bickered some more. We’d worked our way through Arlo’s supply of condoms, my lover still unable to come up with a convincing reason he’d had them with him.

We’d made a snowman. The biggest and best snowman. Arlo’s words, not mine, but I’d secretly agreed. We’d shared things about ourselves from the past six years. Thoughts. Hopes. Dreams. Arlo dreamed of winning an Oscar for one of his documentaries. I just dreamed of being happy and fulfilled, of having the freedom to express myself. We’d played the piano some more. I’d even attempted to teach Arlo a more complicated piece, fitting my hands over his like some parody of the famous scene from Ghost , but without the pottery wheel.

The tree, however, remained undecorated, apart from the snowman Arlo had placed on it a few nights ago. “It might catch on,” I said.

Arlo rolled his head my way from where he sprawled across the sofa in just a pair of shorts. “What might?”

I slid my hand up his thigh, loving the feel of the hair beneath my palms. But then there wasn’t anywhere on Arlo I didn’t like to touch. Crease between his neck and his shoulder. Soft inner thigh. Ticklish armpit. Hell, even his ankle hadn’t escaped my attentions. I’d mapped every inch of Arlo and still intended on checking I hadn’t missed anywhere. “Minimalist tree decorating. You could trademark it and pass it off as some kind of statement. A rage against the commercialization of Christmas or something. Follow it up with a documentary.”

Arlo threw a cushion at me. I caught it and threw it back, laughing when Arlo’s supine position meant he couldn’t move fast enough to avoid it and it hit him in the face. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it, Thomas.”

“I told you what happened with the tree. I got a better offer. Would you rather I’d taken one look at you on your hands and knees as naked as the day you were born and said, hang on, I’ll be back in a bit once I’ve decorated the tree.”

“If you had, you wouldn’t still be breathing. And I’d have set fire to the tree. Which would have made all my efforts in chopping it down with my superior axe expertise completely pointless.” Arlo rolled his eyes at “superior axe expertise,” but I let it go to wander over to the tree. “It doesn’t seem right that only you’ve put your stamp on it, though.” I rifled through the box of decorations, bypassing the snowmen to see what lay beneath. Angels? Nope. Didn’t really do it for me. Little Santas. Better, but not ideal. “Ah!” I announced. “There isn’t really anything else that could represent me, is there?”

I plucked out a reindeer and, after some careful consideration, added it right next to the snowman. So close that they touched when they swayed. “Voila!”

“Voila indeed,” Arlo said with a laugh. He pushed himself up to sitting on the sofa. “C’mere.”

I went, Arlo wrapping his arms around my back and burying his nose in my crotch. “Want me to blow you?”

Was that even a question? Was the pope Catholic and all that jazz? I couldn’t imagine ever saying no to an offer like that from him. “Yeah!” I could already picture the rest of the afternoon. We’d made tentative plans to revisit the treehouse to see if we could see the wolf cubs again. That wouldn’t happen. The afternoon would be a slow, sticky celebration of naked bodies and I was all for it. They had wolves in zoos. Or I could just look at a picture of one.

Arlo’s eyes were pure sex as he hooked his fingers in my waistband and tugged. “I’m going to blow you and make you come, and then I’m going to fuck you. Any objections?”

“Not a single one.”

We both frowned as a noise came from the bedroom. I’d been here eleven days and I could categorize every single sound in our private space. Washing machine. Kettle. Piano. Snow falling off the roof. Laughter. Moans. Running water. Wind through the trees. And this was none of those. It was tinny. Artificial. Like something from another world.

Arlo frowned, his fingers tightening on my hips. “What is that?”

“My phone.” Could he hear the dread in my voice? I’d barely looked at it since Arlo had returned my SIM card and I’d reunited the two things. It had held its charge because I hadn’t used it. Why would I listen to music when I had Arlo to talk to? Why would I look at photos when he was infinitely more attractive than anything I’d photographed? Why would I reread messages when none were from him?

“How long have we had reception?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea.” I’d bet everything I owned the answer was not long, though, or it would have rung before.

“You should probably answer it.”

The sound cut out. “Too late.” The relief that cut through me as sharp as a knife was short-lived, the phone starting up again only a few seconds after stopping. The same person? Someone different? I’d never set it up so I had different ring tones for different people. Now, I wished I had, because while I couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to talk to, there were varying degrees ranging from Clint, the guy who did my hair who I’d missed an appointment with at the bottom of the scale, to Jade or my father at the top.

“Maybe don’t answer it,” Arlo said in a complete turnaround from him being the one to suggest I did exactly that.

“I have to. Things don’t disappear just because you ignore them.” I knew that from experience. It took more. Like enough alcohol to tranquilize a horse. Arlo’s fingers clung to my hips for a second before he peeled them away. I reached my phone just before it stopped ringing for the second time, snatching it off the top of the chest of drawers and bringing it to my ear without looking to see who it was. “Hello.”

A sharp intake of breath. “So you do still answer your phone?”

Jade. “Apparently so.”

“Do you know how much damage control we’ve had to do?”

Her phrasing was interesting. All business. Nothing about people being concerned about my welfare. Which I guess I shouldn’t surprise me considering she was my manager, but some expression of concern at me having disappeared off the face of the earth for eleven days would have been nice. Or something about my father being worried. Perhaps I was being unfair and that would come.

She didn’t wait for an answer to her question, which was just as well because I didn’t have a clue how much damage control they’d had to do. A lot judging from the tone of her voice. “You’ve missed six public appearances, Rudolf.”

“Have I? That’s a lot in the space of eleven days. Who came up with that schedule?”

“You’ve had flu, by the way. Terrible flu that meant we had to call for a doctor and you couldn’t get out of bed. It was the best excuse we could think of that wouldn’t damage your reputation. Of course, the media didn’t believe a word of it. They’ve had you on a weeklong bender.”

“Of course they have.” I wandered back out into the main part of the cabin, the bedroom feeling too claustrophobic. Arlo was exactly where I’d left him, his expression too carefully blank to be natural. When I mouthed “Jade” at him, he nodded.

“It’s cost us an awful lot of money.”

“Us?” I questioned.

“You.”

I stopped by the window, staring at Arlo’s rental car parked outside. Where the snow had previously reached the top of the Volkswagen’s tires, now it was less than halfway. On some level I’d registered the snow becoming easier to get through, but I’d become an expert at ignoring it, and Arlo hadn’t mentioned it either.

“The magazine interview would have been incredibly lucrative. Not to mention the reach they have across several countries.”

“You just mentioned it.”

“Don’t give me shit, Rudolf. I’ll be billing you for the overtime I’ve had to do over the past few days.”

I tuned out and let her words wash over me without listening to most of them, only the odd one getting through. “… percentages… had to promise them you would reschedule and do it for free.” I raised an eyebrow at that one. “… written apology signed by you…”

“Signed by me? Who signed it?”

Jade let out a frustrated sigh, like she didn’t want to be bothered with such questions. “I don’t know. It’s hardly important.”

“If someone’s forging my name, I think it’s incredibly important. I’d quite like to know whether it was the publicist or the cleaner.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“Oh, I’m missing the point, am I?” Annoyance crept into my voice, Arlo turning from where he’d left the sofa to make tea to stare at me. I didn’t look at him, concentrating on the scene outside instead. The perfect winter scene that seemed tainted by having Jade’s voice in my ear while I viewed it. If only I’d never insisted on Arlo returning my SIM card, I could still exist in a state of sweet oblivion. Instead of having to listen to her harangue me, I’d have Arlo’s mouth on my cock, teasing out an orgasm. “I’m fine, Jade, in case you were wondering. I assume you forgot to ask that question.”

“What?” She sounded genuinely befuddled by my comment.

“I’m assuming you’ve tried to call me multiple times. Usually, if someone goes missing for eleven days and can’t be reached, people fear the worst.”

“Rudolf, whatever game you’re playing, and whoever you’re playing it with, it’s time to stop. You’ve had your fun. Time to come back to the real world.”

I rested my forehead against the cool glass, wishing for a blizzard to start up. It didn’t. It hadn’t snowed in three or four days. Maybe even longer. Time had become an alien concept. This cabin had no sense of place or time. It was just Arlo. For once, though, Jade was right. It was time to return to the real world and face up to things.

“Where are you?” Jade asked.

I laughed at the question. “Where are you?”

“In France. Where you should be.”

“I’m still in Austria.”

“Where exactly?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

I risked a glance at Arlo. Never had making a cup of tea required so much concentration. “It’s complicated.” I might have once stated that I’d throw Arlo to the Austrian police, but that was another world. No way was I going to mention his name. Not to Jade. Not to anyone. Which left me in something of a bind. Well, that and the fact that I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know where I was. “Somewhere outside Salzburg. I got snowed in at a cabin and there was no phone reception. I didn’t deliberately take myself off the grid. It just happened.” Jade made a noise which disputed that without her needing to put it into words. “I have a car, but the roads aren’t clear enough for it to be safe. A few more days, maybe.” And if I was lucky, it would snow again.

“I can send someone,” Jade said without hesitation. “I’ll make sure they have a roadworthy vehicle. Four-wheel drive. Snow chains. Whatever’s required. I just need to know where to send them, so cough up the information.”

Arlo appeared next to me. He passed across a piece of paper and I stared at the words written on it. This place is called Villa Taube.

“Villa Taube,” I said.

“Great. Now we’re getting somewhere. I’ll have someone there by tomorrow morning and they’ll drive you to the airport. Be ready, Rudolf. No more fucking about. We’ll talk when you get to France. You can make a statement about your illness to the media, say that you’re almost back to full health and that you’ll be resuming your promotional duties once you’re well enough. I’ve made a list of private clinics. You can choose which one you’d prefer, but you need to attend one of them.”

“Oh, I do, do I? Thanks for letting me know that. Very kind of you.” I hung up before she could say anything else that would have the rage building in me boil over.

Arlo passed me a mug of tea and I curled my hands around it, the slight sting of a too hot mug welcome on my palms. “I’m guessing,” he said carefully, “the conversation didn’t go well?”

I shook my head, my throat too thick with a mixture of emotions to risk saying anything. Arlo lingered for a moment, but when I said nothing, withdrew to give me some space. I stared out of the window until the mug in my hands had gone cold, all without taking a single sip.