Textual Confusion

19. Baby, why arent you picking up?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

BABY, WHY AREN'T YOU PICKING UP?

Asher stared at his text messages from Markus on Thursday:

Markus

How was your day, baby?

Boring.

Probably because someone decided I wasn’t well enough to go to work this week.

Well, perhaps you shouldn’t have been so stubborn about accompanying that certain someone to New York.

Why? So I could be twiddling my thumbs at a fancy hotel instead of the comfort of my own home? It’s not like you would be keeping me company. You’ve been networking all day, every day.

I might be busy during the days, but I’d have been all yours at night, baby.

I hate past me. He’s an idiot.

True. Good thing he’s also adorable as fuck.

You’re the worst.

What? I called you adorable.

And an idiot.

You did it first!

You’re supposed to disagree with me!

But you aren’t wrong.

Like I said, fucking adorable.

I’ll show you how "adorable" I am when you get home from New York.

I'm counting down the hours.

And the messages he’d received so far today:

Markus

Good morning, baby. I have a packed schedule today so I’m not sure when I’ll be able to talk.

That’s okay. I hope you slept well last night, and that you have a productive day today!

You know damn well I don’t sleep well without you.

2 missed calls

Baby, why aren’t you picking up?

Sorry, I have a bit of a cold. Plus, my throat is still a bit sore from… well, you know, so I don’t want to aggravate it.

Why didn’t you say anything? I would have booked an early flight back home.

That’s why. You have your hands full at the convention, and it’s just a little cold. No big deal, I swear.

Besides, you’re coming home tomorrow.

I don’t like it when you keep things from me. Especially when those things involve your health.

I’m fine, I promise. And you have a lot of nerve, considering what you’ve been keeping from me.

What are you talking about?

Asher?

1 missed call

Asher, answer.

I’m talking about Danny’s promotion!

Oh.

Yes, oh. What did you think I was talking about?

I don’t know. I just can’t stand the thought of you being upset with me.

Ugh. Quit being so cute when I’m mad at you for not telling me that Danny was getting promoted! He’s so happy! He’s been blowing up my phone all morning, demanding that I thank you.

Tell him to save his thanks. I didn’t make the final decision. I just signed off on the paperwork.

Really?

So, you didn’t use your CEO powers to put a good word in for him?

Of course not.

So this has nothing to do with finding out that Danny broke Trent’s nose after I broke up with him last July?

That shit stain deserved worse than a broken nose.

Yeah, I think you made that clear, considering the guy’s still in the hospital, recovering from facial reconstructive surgery.

He’d be six feet under if I had my way. The cunt’s lucky you were there to distract me, or I’d have bashed his head in until his brain leaked out his ears.

Wow. That’s… extreme.

Don’t act like you don’t like it. That cat’s already out of the bag. Sasha told me how hot it made you to watch me defend you.

Sasha is the worst.

I deeply regret giving you her number.

Aw, don’t be like that, sweetheart. If it makes you feel any better, all I have to do is picture your perfect face, and my cock is instantly hard.

I’m putting my phone down now.

You can avoid me for now, baby, but you’re all mine when I get home tomorrow. If you have any weekend plans, cancel them. Because I won’t be letting you out of my sight – or my bed – for the foreseeable future.

It was crazy how texting could completely mask the way someone was really feeling.

If they were face-to-face, Markus would have immediately known something was wrong. Asher had a feeling that even talking over the phone would give him away – his tone would be just the tiniest bit off, or his voice would warble and crack.

So Asher had begged off when the man called, claiming a cold.

He felt horrible about it, but he knew that if Markus found out what had happened with his mother, and how much Asher was struggling to process it, he’d ditch work and the convention and immediately book a flight back to Seattle.

If Asher allowed that, then he’d be just as selfish as his mother had accused him of being.

So, he’d lied.

A liar and a fraud, that was Asher.

Markus wasn’t the only one Asher had been avoiding speaking to over the past couple days. He’d been evading his friends, too. It wasn’t all that difficult, considering Danny had work and Sasha was busy getting things prepped for her art exhibit next month.

Which meant Asher had spent the last forty-eight hours alone in his apartment, overanalyzing every single word his mother had said to him.

He hadn’t cried again after that first night. He wasn’t sad or angry enough to produce tears. Instead, he felt disconcertingly numb – almost like he was floating outside of his own body, watching as he forced himself through the motions.

He would turn on his favorite baking show or an interesting documentary on Netflix, only to wind up staring blankly at the wall instead of focusing on anything happening on the screen. He’d start putting together a batch of cookies and miscount the cups of flour the recipe called for and have to start over. Or worse, forget to set the timer and forget about them in the oven, until the smell of smoke finally broke through the fog that had settled over his brain – and heart.

Asher made himself text Markus back whenever his phone buzzed, injecting cheer into his responses despite the strange feeling of not belonging in his own skin. His appetite was shot, but he forced himself to shovel food into his mouth at least a couple times a day, too. (After all, he knew how upset Markus got when he neglected his health, and the man would be distraught if he came home from New York to Asher having lost weight.)

He might not feel comfortable leaving Asher alone again if he had another unavoidable business trip – which he would . The man was CEO of the largest financial firm on the west coast, for fuck’s sake. He had enough responsibilities on his plate without having to worry if his defective boyfriend would remember to feed himself.

It was ridiculous. Asher was an adult, and he needed to get his shit together. He would not burden Markus with his problems.

You’re not a burden , a quiet voice pointed out in the back of his head, but it was quickly drowned out by the words his mother had spewed at him two days earlier.

“You ruined my life! You took everything from me!"

“You’re the reason your dad left.”

“Useless, little faggot.”

“What does he get out of your relationship exactly?”

Logically, Asher knew he shouldn’t let the words of a desperate drug addict affect him so much, but that drug addict was his mother . Everyone knew mothers were supposed to love and cherish their children. And it wasn’t just his mom who’d abandoned him, his dad had left, too.

And apparently, he’d had more kids after Asher – kids that he had loved enough to stay.

Maybe there really was something wrong with him.

Putting down his phone, Asher redirected his gaze to his bathroom mirror. He stared at his reflection, searching for what it was about him that made him so unlovable. He took in the pale skin and the dark, disheveled curls on his head. The brown eyes, and the pink, puffy lips.

He wasn’t a model by any means, but he looked normal enough. Nothing screamed wrong or defective.

It must have been something on the inside then, like his mom had said. Something rotten, festering away behind his ribs. Something that infected everything – and everyone – he touched.

Asher jerked his gaze away from the mirror, gripping the edge of the vanity. “Get ahold of yourself,” he scolded. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re fine .”

Maybe if he said it aloud enough times, he’d believe it.

As it was, he had to be fine. Or at least do a better job of pretending he was. Because Markus was due back home tomorrow afternoon. He’d see through Asher immediately at this rate, and that was unacceptable.

Looking back into the mirror, he forced himself to smile. There. A bit wooden, but better. He could do this.

Danny and Sasha had invited him out tonight to celebrate the former’s promotion, and while a part of Asher wanted to make an excuse not to come – maybe fake a cold, like he’d done with Markus – he’d decided to go. After all, he knew how hard Danny had worked for this promotion and he deserved to be celebrated.

Besides, a bit of practice pretending to be fine with his friends wouldn’t hurt. If he could fool Sasha, there was a chance Markus wouldn’t immediately call him out.

With that in mind, Asher finished getting ready for his night out, brushing his teeth before leaving the bathroom and tugging on a pair of jeans and a nice shirt. It was a step up from the grimy sweats he’d spent the past two days in.

When he was finished, Asher called Nigel and asked him to take him to the bar.

A little over half an hour later, Asher was stepping out of one of Markus’s many luxury vehicles at The Pink Pony. “Shall I walk you inside, Sir?” Nigel asked, eyeing a group of large men loitering near the entrance, cigarettes hanging from their lips and sleeves of tattoos on display.

Asher may have forgotten to mention to the man that The Pink Pony was a biker bar.

He snorted, shrugging off Nigel’s concern. “I’ll be fine,” he assured, waving to the group of men, all of whom waved back.

Asher was a regular, after all.

“You can go home,” he told Nigel.

Nigel frowned, stepping out of the vehicle. “If I leave, how will you get back to your apartment?” he asked.

“I’ll just call an Uber or catch the bus.”

Nigel scowled. “You will do no such thing. I’ll make myself scarce for now, but call me when you’re ready to go home and I’ll take you.”

Asher’s eyebrows shut up at the uncharacteristically domineering tone.

Nigel realized his slip and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Er… I mean, I highly suggest you call me when you’re finished. I wouldn’t presume to speak for my boss, but I think it’s fair to say that Mr. Kingston would not be pleased if I abandoned you here.”

Asher must have been starved for affection since Markus had left on his trip because the obvious care and regard behind the man’s actions was almost enough to make him teary-eyed. He surprised himself and Nigel by pulling him into a tight hug. “Thanks, Nigel,” he muttered where his face was pressed into the man’s shoulder.

Stiff as a board, Nigel carefully extracted himself from Asher’s embrace. The man looked vaguely horrified.

Asher winced. “Sorry,” he offered.

“None of that, now,” Nigel assured, straightening himself out. “No need for apologies. But, uh… perhaps its best to keep this exchange between ourselves.”

Asher giggled, knowing exactly what prompted the man to make such a suggestion. Markus was one possessive motherfucker. “Sure,” he agreed easily.

Despite his assurance that he was a regular at the bar and that he’d be fine, Nigel waited outside near the vehicle until Asher made it safely inside the establishment.

The first thing Asher noticed when he walked into The Pink Pony was that it was livelier than normal. Even for a Friday night, it was crowded. He slipped past a large group near the bar before spotting Sasha at their usual table, fiddling with her phone. He made his way over to her. “Hey,” he greeted, sliding into the open seat across from the blonde.

She glanced up from her phone, a welcoming smirk on her lips. But it slipped off her face as soon as she caught sight of him – or, more specifically, caught sight of his hand. “What happened?” she fretted, grabbing at his bandaged palm.

Crap.

Somehow Asher had forgotten about the nasty cut he’d acquired when his mom had stepped on his hand, grinding it into a sharp piece of glass.

He jerked his hand out of Sasha’s grasp, hiding it under the table. “It’s nothing,” he assured. “Just burned myself baking cookies yesterday.”

Sasha stared long and hard at him before sighing in exasperation. “You need to be more careful,” she scolded, apparently having bought the lie. (And why wouldn’t she? She saw Asher hurt himself in the kitchen all the time at work.) “I don’t need Big Daddy cornering me when he gets back from his business trip, accusing me of not taking care of you while he was gone.”

Asher frowned. “I can take care of myself,” he pointed out. “He shouldn’t have to waste his time worrying about me, and neither should you.”

Sasha’s eyebrows shot up. “Um, okay. Last I checked I could worry about whomever I damn well please, and that includes you . If that offends your sensibilities for some inexplicable reason, suck it up, buttercup. I’m not about to stop anytime soon.”

Asher grimaced. He was clearly awful at this whole pretending to be fine thing. “Right,” he said, finding the tabletop suddenly interesting. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” A pause. “You okay, Asher?

Nodding, Asher forced himself to look up from the table and meet her eyes. “Of course.”

“You sure?” she pressed, leaning forward. “Nothing happened with Assface, did it?”

Asher blinked, caught off guard. “You mean Trent?”

Sasha winced, like Asher saying the man’s name aloud physically pained her. “Yes, him .”

“He’s still in the hospital,” he reminded Sasha. “What could he possibly do?”

“I don’t know! You’re just acting strange, so I thought I’d ask.”

“Thanks,” Asher deadpanned, before clearing his throat and getting his act together. “Nothing happened with Trent. I’m just missing Markus, I think.” That part wasn’t even a lie. “This is the longest amount of time we’ve gone without seeing each other since we met, and I think it’s making me a little cranky.”

Sasha nodded sagely. “Lack of sex makes me ornery as fuck, too.”

Asher snorted. “Since when have you and Danny ever gone more than two days without having sex?”

“The Great Chick-fil-A Calamity of 2022,” she immediately answered without preamble, causing a genuine laugh to escape Asher for the first time since his mother had shown up outside his apartment door Wednesday evening. “Danny forgot to get dipping sauce and refused to go back for it. I held out an entire seventy-two hours in retaliation.”

Asher shook his head. “Speaking of Danny, where is he?” he asked, glancing around the bar.

Like the man had been summoned by the sound of his name, a pair of tan, muscular arms suddenly wrapped themselves around Asher’s shoulders from behind and squeezed . “Asher!” a loud voice exclaimed in his ear.

Asher flinched at the noise. He could already smell the alcohol on Danny, his breath stinking of beer. That, and the dopey grin glued to his face, was enough to give away the fact the man was well on his way to being plastered.

“Your breath smells like piss,” Asher stated plainly, causing Sasha to erupt into giggles across from him.

Danny, though, didn’t hear him – or he didn’t care. Because he only squeezed Asher tighter in the weird one-way embrace he’d trapped him in, Asher’s arms pinned to his sides. “I take back every bad word I’ve ever said about Big Daddy.”

Asher winced, partially from the strength of Danny’s hug and partially at what had just come out of the man’s mouth. “Don’t tell me you’re calling him that now, too.”

“I’ll gladly call the man whatever he wants me to call him in whatever way he wants me to call him it.”

Asher wrinkled his nose. “Ew,” he complained, before finally processing the rest of what Danny had said. “And what do you mean you take back every bad word you’ve ever said about Markus? Have you been shit talking my boyfriend?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” Danny replied, finally releasing Asher from the hug so he could condescending pat the top of his head instead. “I like him now, and that’s all that matters.”

Sasha laughed. Asher scowled. “And to think I was about to congratulate you on your promotion and offer to buy you a drink to celebrate.”

But instead of immediately backtracking and apologizing, like Asher thought the man might do with a free drink on the line, Danny merely shook his head. “Na-ah. No way, José. All the drinks are on me tonight, especially yours.”

Sasha huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “What about mine?” she asked with a pout.

“I said all the drinks, didn’t I? Besides, your drinks are always on me,” Danny pointed out.

Sasha hummed in consideration. “Point,” she finally acknowledged.

“Was the promotion really that good?” Asher asked, eyebrows near his hairline.

“Yep,” Danny confirmed. “But even if it wasn’t, I’d still be picking up the tab tonight.”

“Oh yeah? And what have I done to deserve such an honor?”

“What did you do? More like what didn’t you do? Or have you forgotten the fact that you dick down my boss on the regular?”

In his drunken state, Danny’s voice carried, and Asher fought the urge to sink into his seat, pressing the back of his hands to his rapidly heating cheeks.

“Pretty sure Asher’s the one getting dicked down,” Sasha spoke up – just as loudly.

Danny waved a hand. “Semantics.”

“Would you two quiet down?” Asher hissed.

A large, tatted man the table over was eyeing them – specifically Asher – with a very judgmental stare.

“My point is,” Danny continued – at a lower volume, thank God – “we all know I only got the promotion because of whatever magical thing it is you do to the man’s dick.”

Asher’s stomach did a flip. “I- what?”

Sure, it was only a few hours ago Asher was texting Markus himself to demand to know if the promotion Danny had gotten had anything to do with their relationship, but it’d been something he’d asked in jest – mostly , anyway. And Markus had denied it.

“That’s not true,” Sasha argued. “You worked hard to get this promotion.”

Danny wiggled his eyebrows. “Not as hard as Asher. Which is exactly while I’ll be buying his drinks tonight.”

Asher felt sick.

“So?”

Asher blinked. ‘So?” he repeated dumbly.

“What do you want to drink? Your usual mojito? Or do you want something stronger tonight?”

“I- yeah, a mojito is fine,” Asher agreed, forcing a smile – though he had a feeling anything he tried to gulp down would end up coming right back up.

After confirming that Sasha wanted another daiquiri, Danny flounced off to the bar to procure their drinks. Meanwhile, Asher tried his hardest not to do something stupid – like throw up or randomly burst into tears.

People who were fine – which Asher was, he was perfectly fine – didn’t do such inane things.

Apparently, he wasn’t doing as good a job of hiding his turbulent emotions as he thought, however, because as soon as Danny was out of earshot, Sasha was leaning forward into his space and demanding sternly, “Whatever it is that you’re thinking, stop.”

Asher swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’m not thinking anything,” he argued.

Sasha sighed, backing up a bit. “I’d usually take an opening like that to point out that, indeed, you rarely think anything in that pretty, albeit empty, skull of yours. But I get the feeling you’re not very receptive to jokes right now.” A pause. “You know Danny didn’t mean what he said, right? He’s drunk.”

“Drunk tongues speak sober thoughts,” he pointed out.

“Bullshit,” Sasha shot back. “Or do you not remember that time I claimed Kim Kardashian was hotter than Beyoncé after downing seven shots of tequila? Frickin’ Beyonc é , Asher. No one is more attractive than Beyoncé. Not even Big Daddy. We both know how hard Danny worked for this promotion.”

“A lot of people probably worked hard, Sasha,” Asher finally snapped, “but he’s the only one with a best friend who regularly sucks the CEO’s cock.”

Sasha cringed. “First of all, it’s weird as fuck hearing you say the word cock.”

“You say it all the time!”

“Yeah, but I’m me. You’re you .”

“I’m not sure what that means, but I’ve literally been being paid to take cock for months now, Sasha. I think I’m allowed to say the word out loud.”

“ Secondly ,” she said, blatantly ignoring him, “what exactly are you getting at? Are you trying to imply that Danny doesn’t deserve this promotion? That he didn’t earn it?”

“No,” Asher immediately denied. “Of course he earned it. It’s just…”

“It’s just what, Asher?”

“What if I fuck it up?” he blurted. The idea of it had been hanging over his head the second Danny had attributed his promotion to Asher’s actions.

Sasha frowned. “Fuck what up?” she asked, obviously confused. “Danny’s promotion?”

“This thing I have going on with Markus,” Asher clarified. “What if I fuck it up and then he takes it out on Danny? What if he takes away the promotion?” A horrible thought occurred to him. “What if he takes it a step further and fires Danny? You and I both know that something like that would destroy him.”

Asher would destroy him.

“It’s only a matter of time until you ruin his life. Just like you did mine.”

His mother had been talking about Markus when she’d said it, but the same principle applied.

“You’re being unreasonable, Asher. I’ve never seen anyone look at someone the way Big Daddy looks at you – like you’re the only worthwhile thing in his world. There’s no way you could ever do something to piss him off enough that he’d-”

“And what about you ?” Asher interrupted. He was vaguely aware that he was spiraling, all of his friend’s words going in one ear and out the other, but he couldn’t help himself.

Sasha crossed her arms over her chest. “What about me?”

“What if you lose your exhibit at The Connoisseur because of me? Because I royally fuck things up with Markus?”

Sasha scoffed. “Did you not hear a single word I just said? That man worships you, Asher. You’d have to do something monumentally stupid – like, I don’t know, murder his brother – to fuck things up beyond repair with him. And even then, I’m convinced the guy would just help you bury the body and get rid of the evidence. His own brother, Asher. That’s how much he adores you.”

“Markus doesn’t have a brother,” he pointed out dumbly.

“You’re missing the point! You’re not going to fuck things up! I don’t know why you think you are. And even if I’m somehow completely wrong – which I’m not, by the way – I’m not sure what any of it has to do with my art exhibit.”

“Isn’t it obvious? The only reason you’re getting the opportunity to display your art at The Connoisseur is because I got you that interview with Markus’s mom.”

Sasha stiffened. “You may have gotten me the interview, but I earned that spot at The Connoisseur on my own, because I’m talented.”

“You are talented,” Asher acknowledged. He loved his friend’s art. “But we both know that talent only gets you so far in your industry. It’s all about who you know, and the only reason you know anyone of significance is because of me.”

Sasha scoffed. “Not everything is about you, Asher.”

Asher frowned. “I know that.”

“Do you?” she shot back, staring him down. “Because it sounds to me like you think the only reason Danny got his promotion is because of you and not all the hard work and extra hours he’s been putting in. And the only reason I was given a spot at The Connoisseur is because of you and your connections, not because I’ve been honing my craft for years or that I have worthwhile art to share with the world.”

Asher blinked. When she put it that way, he sounded like a horrible, self-centered brat.

“And you have the audacity to claim you’re anything other than a selfish cunt?”

He couldn’t even deny it at this point.

They’d come out to The Pink Pony to celebrate Danny’s promotion, and somehow he’d made it all about himself.

“You’re right,” he agreed, cowed. “I’m sorry.”

Sasha didn’t immediately accept his apology, and Asher didn’t blame her. “I know I’m right,” she said instead, before searching his eyes. “Where is all this coming from?”

Unable to hold her gaze, Asher looked down, fiddling with the bandage on his hand. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, a blatant lie.

“Well, figure it out. Because it sucks to hear how incapable you think Danny and I are without you.”

Asher winced. He didn’t think that at all. Of his friend group, he knew very well who the incapable one was – him . “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I- I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe… maybe I should go before I ruin Danny’s night.”

Asher wasn’t sure what he expected Sasha to say in response to his suggestion. Beg him to stay, maybe? Assure him that he could never ruin Danny’s night, even if he was acting like a complete asshat.

“Maybe that would be for the best.”

Shocked, Asher jerked his gaze up from the table to look at his friend. With her arms crossed defensively over her chest and her jaw clenched shut, she looked the definition of upset. Hurt, even.

Asher’s stomach plummeted.

He’d done that.

Nodding jerkily, Asher pushed himself up from his seat. He wanted to say something – bid Sasha goodbye or offer another apology, maybe – but his tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth, so tearing his gaze away from her, he merely made his way towards the door.

He was vaguely aware of Danny calling out to him – “Asher? Where are you going?” – from somewhere near the bar, but he ignored the man and hurried out of The Pink Pony. Giving into the instinctual urge to run – to hide, Asher all but raced down the sidewalk before ducking in the mouth of a nearby alley.

Staring at the grimy brick wall across from him, Asher forced himself to catch his breath. But even as his heart rate slowed, his mind continued to race.

He didn’t deserve to have friends as inherently good and loyal as Sasha and Danny. He’d proven that well enough tonight when he couldn’t even go out and celebrate important milestones in their lives without making everything all about him.

He was a horrible, selfish cunt.

Just like his mother had said.

And it was only a matter of time before he fucked things up even worse. Sasha and Danny didn’t deserve that – being friends with someone only capable of bringing chaos and ruin into their lives. They deserved a kind, considerate, normal friend.

Not Asher, with his constant drama and self-centered meltdowns.

Then there was Markus, who was almost unbelievably perfect. Authoritative, yet sweet, and so, so generous. A gorgeous, successful man who could have anyone in the world he wanted.

“All you do is drag him down. It’s all you’re capable of.”

He didn’t deserve to be stuck with someone like Asher.

Asher had never really understood what Markus saw in him. Sure, his ass was nice, but besides that, he was average looking at best. His hair never laid flat, and his fashion sense was abysmal. He wasn’t particularly smart either. There was a reason he baked cookies for a living instead of something fast-paced or involving lots of numbers, like Danny.

Markus deserved someone by his side who was as good-looking and smart as he was. Someone charismatic, who fluttered about the room like a social butterfly when Markus took them to company functions. Not someone as awkward as Asher, who froze under any sort of attention and often tripped over thin air.

He couldn’t help but picture a woman in his mind. One in a classic cocktail dress that hugged all her curves just right, sipping on wine while she clung to Markus’s arm, telling stories that made all the man’s associates titter in amusement. Someone that would make everyone in the room seethe with envy.

It was a big step up from the bemused gawking Markus faced toting Asher on his arm. (Although most people were quick to hide their surprise.)

Markus doesn’t care what anyone thinks, a voice in his head stubbornly reminded him.

Whether that was true or not, the man still deserved more – better – than Asher.

“If you cared about him at all, you’d do him a favor and cut him loose.”

As much as Asher hated to admit it – hated what it meant for him – his mother was right. He didn’t make the lives of those around him any better – only worse. He didn’t see it before, but he did now.

He had to make things right.

But no matter how hard he thought, the only way Asher could think of to do that… was to leave.