Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Wednesday Briefs: No Way Out #12

It's amazing to me how fast the time flies, and here we are at Wednesday again, and time for another Wednesday Brief! Hope you are having a great hump day! This week's prompts were: "afternoon delight" or "Is that your best bedside manner?" or "If wishes were fishes..." or "where angels fear to tread..." or use a kite in some way or use a bull's eye or use a Hello Kitty product or have a famous celebrity make a surprise guest appearance in your story.

In last week's episode of No Way Out, Shy was tempted into behavior he knew was not what he was supposed to do, but he did it anyway. But then he received a call... can Wyatt talk him into staying, or does he really have to go... to be with Sir? Find out in this week's chapter. And don't forget to visit the other Briefers, whose links follow my tale. Enjoy!

No Way Out #12

 “I have to go.” Shy could not meet Wyatt’s eyes. Shame burned brightly in his heated cheeks. Randy was coming home for lunch and had told him in no uncertain terms to be there. Which meant he was hungry. Or horny. Or both. And looking for a little afternoon delight from Shylor.

Shy didn’t want Wyatt’s questions. He wasn’t sure he could answer them, or even handle hearing them. He was grateful that Randy had detected nothing amiss in his own responses to his questions. If Randy ever suspected that he and Wyatt... He left the thought unfinished.

Besides, there was no him and Wyatt. That was a delusion, nothing more.

A pipe dream. He’d read about pipe dreams once, in a play. The Iceman Cometh. Shy enjoyed reading plays. Luckily, Randy didn’t object, and he owned an impressive collection of them, along with novels and assorted volumes of non-fiction. Most of it was for show. Randy read little fiction, mostly Tom Clancy or W.E.B. Griffin. Or books on chess. He played the game through email, and had an expensive chess set in his study. Woe betide Shy if he should ever—God forbid—knock a piece off the board, even accidentally.

That had happened only once. Shy had been about ten at the time. He hadn’t meant to. But his protests had fallen on deaf ears. Both Randy’s and hers. Shy had worn the resulting welts for many days afterward. They were a badge of shame, and a reminder to do better in the future.

“Let me come with you.”

Shy finally raised his eyes, panic stricken at the very idea. His mouth dropped open but he couldn’t seem to speak. Consternation crossed Wyatt’s face.

“Just to the checkout,” he hastily added. “That’s all, that’s all.”

Shy’s relief was palpable. Even so, it wasn’t a good idea and he knew it. “I can manage.” He always had before.

He moved toward the shopping cart. To his dismay, Wyatt moved in tandem with him.  “Noooooo.” His command came out as an anguished moan.

“I just want to help,” Wyatt tried again.

“You can’t help. No one can help. I have to go.” He turned resolutely away. This had been a mistake, and he’d known it before he even came. But at least it would be a memory he could hold onto, something to think about at times when reality was too much and he needed mental relief from... things.

“I want to see you again.”

Shy’s eyes went wide and he turned back to Wyatt. “You don’t understand! I can’t!”

“Then make me understand,” Wyatt challenged him. He reached for Shy, his hand ringing Shy’s wrist. Shy looked from Wyatt’s grip to the other man’s intense gaze.

“I can’t,” he said dully. “I’m not yours to touch. I’m his.” He yanked himself forcefully out of Wyatt’s grasp and began to push the cart toward the front of the store, as if all the demons of Hell were hot on his heels.

* * * *
Wyatt didn’t move. He wanted to. God, how badly he wanted to. But he was afraid he’d only make matters worse, even if he didn’t understand what matters there were to make worse. But there was something wrong, something seriously wrong here.

Wyatt was in over his head and he knew it.

Despair filled him as he stared helplessly after Shy’s retreating figure until he turned a corner, out of sight. Shy needed him, he knew it.  But he was deliberately keeping Wyatt at arm’s length. Why?

And why did he make himself sound like he was a possession? Something to be owned, not loved. What was going on, and how long had it been going on? Wyatt ached to know.

He resisted the impulse to follow Shy to the checkout, afraid he’d push the frail young man over the edge of some awful abyss. Before he made another move, he needed to talk to someone, explain the situation and get his take on it. And he knew just the man to call.

He slid back into the cheap plastic bench seat, pulled out his phone, and punched in Lukas’ number.

* * * *
Half of Shy was afraid Wyatt had followed him to the checkout lanes. The other half was afraid he hadn’t. He told the second half to shut up. As the checker scanned each item, Shy kept his attention riveted on the terminal in front of him. He punched in the PIN of the card he used for purchases made on Randy’s behalf. He gave Randy each receipt so he could tally it against his bank statement. Randy knew about every purchase Shy made. And he gave strict injunction against using the card for any purpose other than those he sanctioned.

As the checker finished his order, Shy held his breath and turned his head. He scanned the aisles, panning along the length of them. From his vantage point, he could see most everything, but his field of vision didn’t extend to the back and he saw no sign of Wyatt. Shy breathed a mixed sigh of relief. He finished his transaction and pushed his cart to the long counter beneath the plate glass windows that overlooked the parking lot, where he carefully loaded everything into the bags he’d brought from home—Randy’s mandate. And something Shy agreed was a good idea. Not that Randy had asked him what he thought.

He forced himself to focus on Randy, on his detailed instructions, what he’d told Wyatt to have ready when he got there. Once the groceries were in the car and the cart pushed into the closest corral, he slid into the driver’s seat. A twinge of regret pierced his heart, one he could not properly define.

Wyatt would quickly forget him. Shy would just be an odd tale to tell his friends, someone to laugh about. A joke. A nobody.

Shy couldn’t stop thinking about Wyatt.

So not good.

 to be continued

Now see what the rest of the gang are up to!

Elyzabeth VaLey      

 Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie


  1. i love this story. Poor Shy. It's distressinly easy to make someone believe themselves to be a possession.I wonder what happens next.

  2. Poor Shy, he's had such a horrible life. I hope Wyatt can help him somehow... Looking forward to see what's going to happen.