Heart of Montana Page 5

  "Can I help you?" Adrian asked, trying to appear unshaken by the man's appearance.

  "Yeah, maybe," the man nodded.

  "If you're looking for drugs, find another doc, I don't play those games." Adrian tried to step toward his truck, but the man wouldn't let him.

  "So you're Randall's new chicken?" the man said as he eyed Adrian. "I wouldn't have thought that goober smoocher would go for a city slicker, but you are kind of cute."

  "What do you want?" Adrian was starting to get more pissed than afraid.

  "Maybe just...a little gayola ." The man tried to stroke Adrian's face, but he stepped back out of reach.

  "Gayola? What the hell are you talking about?"

  "So...you don't seem to care if everyone in town knows you're a queer, but what's it worth to you for me to keep Randall's secret?" The man leaned back against Adrian's door, folding his arms across his chest.

  It hit Adrian like a thunderbolt: this asshole was going to try to blackmail him, and he must have threatened to out Randall. That was the explanation for what he had seen transpire at the Cheyenne Trail-and he must have been spying on Randall while they were together. Adrian closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think. Randall's voice echoed in his head-the difficulty it might cause him at work and with his community, and that stress made him want to drink. Damn it. Adrian rubbed his head. "Stop dicking around and tell me what you want. I don't have patience for this."

  "Oh you'll have patience. I can out your buddy Clayton, too."

  "Who's going to believe a meth head like you?" Adrian was starting to feel sick to his stomach.

  "I thought you might say that," he pulled a crumpled envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Adrian. "I'll be in touch...and yeah, I think you're going to get me some good drugs." He pretended to sniff, "Oh my...I feel congested! I think I'm going to need some pseudophedrine, and not that pretend shit at the drugstore."

  Damn, damn, damn, Adrian was getting freaked. This guy wasn't only on meth-he was cooking it. Adrian's eyes fixated on a tattoo on the man's neck: '420,' code for pot. He certainly didn't hide his affinity for drugs, Adrian thought. The man straightened up and started to walk by Adrian, copping a feel of Adrian's crotch as he did. "Impressive," he whispered into Adrian's ear, and then he seemed to melt back down the alley.

  Adrian got in his truck and locked the doors, then opened the envelope. The first set of pictures was of Randall and Clayton in a state of undress, taken through a window with both of them unaware. They were old photos; Randall and Clayton both looked considerably younger, and there was clearly tenderness in the way they were touching each other, but the photos were definitely compromising for two men who wanted to keep their sexual preference under wraps. The second set of pictures started with one of Randall looking disheveled and out of it, clearly on a bender. Then he was passed out naked on a bed, and the last photo was of a man screwing him. None of it was pretty. Daniel ripped up the photos; having them made him feel like some perverted voyeur. He felt he had violated both Randall and Clayton.

  A few miles up the road, Adrian realized he was driving like a maniac, and slowed his truck down. If it were only him that was being blackmailed, he would be making a beeline to the cops, but outing others against their will was like violating a sacred law. On the other hand, writing fake prescriptions could cause him to lose his medical license-and he'd be $100,000 in debt and completely unemployable. How was it possible in less than two weeks to get involved in such a mess? He looked at his hands clamped on the steering wheel, and realized he was more than a little stressed. He had one real friend in town, Karen, and she was not the person to be talking to about this. And none of his friends back in Boston would understand the pressures all of them were under.

  As Adrian pulled up at his cabin, he decided to sleep on it. Everything would be clearer in the morning.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The sound of birds woke Adrian the next morning. He looked at the clock, only 5:30 and still dark, but the songbirds were up and going. As he threw back the sheet and got out of bed, he wished that he was feeling a little more chipper. He pulled on some shorts and padded into the kitchen to make coffee, and then wondered if meth-head man had spied on him as well. He didn't even know the guy's name, but he did know that the idea of someone peeping through his windows gave him the creeps. The thing that troubled him most was the drug-fueled desperation that made this guy willing to throw good people under the bus.

  Sitting bleary-eyed at his little kitchen table, Adrian pondered how to turn the tables. He couldn't possible give him the main ingredient to cook meth; more than a single pill pack would immediately flag suspicion, and even if meth-head filled the prescriptions at different stores in different towns, it would eventually trace back to him. And personal attractions aside, asking either Randall or Clayton to come out in order to save his skin, was asking a lot. He wondered if he could go to the police and make up some other reason for why he was being blackmailed, but he really couldn't come up with anything. Worst of all, he couldn't decide whether to tell Randall and Clayton, afraid that they were the kind of guys who might sacrifice themselves for him.

  ***

  It was two o'clock before Adrian could even think about lunch. Bear Paw's one surgeon was away at a conference, and a serious chainsaw injury had come in mid-day. It had everyone running at full speed, but they got the logger stabilized and sent on to a vascular surgeon at the regional center. The prognosis looked good, and the Bear Paw team was feeling pretty proud of themselves. Adrian had to admit, for a first line of defense, he'd put the Bear Paw Hospital and Clinic up against a lot of larger trauma centers.

  Clayton peeled off his latex gloves and threw them in a bin along with the disposable gown he'd hastily put on. They both had an adrenaline buzz and as Adrian caught Clayton's eyes, he knew what they were both thinking. Clayton nodded his head in the direction of his office, and a couple of minutes later, Adrian followed. Clayton had already dropped the blinds and he surged toward Adrian as he entered the office, locking the door behind him.

  "Damn, I need a kiss, right now," Clayton said, his hands pulling Adrian's head toward his. He was assertive and physical and it turned Adrian on even more. Clayton shoved Adrian against the wall, grinding his cock against Adrian, and Adrian let himself be carried away by the moment-until his mind flashed in rapid succession on the image of Randall and Clayton together, his own experience with Randall, and the fact that they were all in world of trouble, and Clayton didn't even know it. Adrian pulled his mouth away from Clayton's, burying his face in the taller man's shoulder, trying to bring the fever pitch down.

  "What's wrong?" Clayton asked, his grip on Adrian relaxing. He stroked the back of Adrian's head. "It's okay, I'm sorry, this is my fault. I know you said we needed to give things time."

  Adrian lifted his face up to Clayton, "No, that's not it...I mean, that's part of it...we need to talk, but not here. There's some weird stuff going on...and it involves you."

  Clayton pulled back slightly, so he could get a better look at Adrian's face. "You're serious, aren't you? Then tonight, after work."

  Adrian rubbed at his face as he stepped away, "I'm supposed to paddle with Karen after work, the race is this weekend...I can't let her down. Tomorrow, we'll talk about it tomorrow." Adrian gave Clayton one last look, feeling himself pulled between his attraction to Clayton, the deep connection he had felt with Randall, and his friendship with Karen. Somehow he felt like no matter what he did or didn't do, someone was going to get hurt.

  Fortunately, all of Adrian's patients for the rest of the afternoon were routine. He adjusted the dosage of Mrs. Graham's blood pressure medication, taped up the Smith kid's nose after he decided to ride a horse bareback, and gave Mr. Welling a lecture about his blood sugar. He did his best to concentrate on the people in front of him, and it helped him quiet the butterflies in his stomach. All the same, he was glad to usher out his final patient and wave to Karen as she escorted a toddler
sucking on a lollipop from an exam room. She patted the little girl on the back and told her that she had been very brave, and it made Adrian smile wistfully. He hoped that they could all be brave too.

  Once they slid the canoe into the river and Adrian hopped in, he could feel himself relax. He had moved to the stern position, now that he knew the river, since he was the more powerful of the two. Their plan was to do the last two miles of the race course, which did have a couple of rapids, and ended in a class three ledge drop with a churning hydraulic at the bottom that could easily flip a canoe. They had only run it two times before, flipping once, and squeaking through once.

  When they were close to the final rapid, they pulled the canoe over and Karen led the way over some rocks to a vantage point where they could study the rapid. Now that he had more of an overview of the currents, he could see the line that they needed to take. There was one tricky lateral they had to do, and if they made that, it would be clear sailing. He gave Karen a playful shove, "So why didn't we scout it before? Now I get it!"

  Karen laughed, and they hopped back across the rocks to the canoe and ran the ledge with a perfect line. They whooped in excitement and raised their paddles triumphantly in the air.

  "Now we're ready for Saturday. You have a visual on it?" Karen asked,

  "Yeah, there's a red rock that's my landmark for putting us on the right line," Adrian said. Once you know it, it's not hard at all."

  They loaded the boat back up on Karen's car, tying it down securely, as they reviewed their strategy. Then out of the blue, Karen asked Adrian, "Can I ask you a really personal question?"

  Adrian shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."

  "When did you know you were gay? Like how old were you?"

  Adrian stepped down from where he was balanced on the bumper, tying down the stern of the canoe. He scratched his head. "That's kind of an interesting question. I think as a boy, I knew I was different than some boys, but it wasn't like I was running around putting on mommy's lipstick and singing show tunes."

  Karen smiled, "And then?"

  "Well you know, at puberty, like most kids, that's when your sexuality starts to really bubble up and you feel attractions-real attractions-not just like a crush on your babysitter or your gym teacher or whatever. And I realized that I liked girls-I thought girls were pretty and interesting-but the ones I wanted to kiss were the boys."

  "So you were pretty young when you came out?"

  "I told my parents when I was fifteen. Like anybody, they were a little shocked at first...precisely because I was playing football and liked the outdoors, and did well in school. I guess they had the stereotypical idea that if I were gay, I would be effeminate, or troubled or something. But they were supportive, and I told my close friends, and my teachers at school."

  "And your first serious relationship?"

  "In college. I had the advantage of being able to go to gay clubs and to our gay student organization to meet people. That made it a lot easier, because I didn't have to just depend on my gaydar to know who might want to go out with me." Adrian laughed a little, "Despite what you might hear, the gaydar can be really off some times! I've met some incredibly gay acting, straight men."

  Karen leaned against her car, thinking. "Do you think if someone was in denial about being gay, they would date a woman?"

  "Oh hell yeah, it happens all the time. And it doesn't necessarily mean that the guy isn't attracted to women. Some people are truly bisexual, and some are mostly gay with a little bit of bi. Really, if people aren't in the right environment, it can take a long time to piece it all together and come to the determination that you really want to be with a same sex partner to the exclusion of all other options. There are plenty of men who wake up in marriages when they are in their 40s or even 50s, who realize that they've been denying who they really are their whole life. And there are some people who might need to try things out, but who could be happy in a committed relationship with either a woman or a man. And you know, there are people who just want to have a good time."

  It was clear to Adrian now that Karen was trying to make sense of Randall and Clayton and her relationship to them. Maybe that little crack he'd glimpsed in the wall she put up between herself and Randall was widening. Adrian wanted to help her open her heart back up to both of them so that they could all be friends, but he knew not to push. Karen would have to come to a determination in her own good time.

  "Karen," Adrian cleared his throat as they drove back to his truck, "If a person is gay, or I think even more so when they are bisexual, it can be really confusing, and sometimes they hurt people without meaning to-especially if the community around them isn't sympathetic. The more closeted people are, the more chance there is to make mistakes."

  "Thanks Adrian, I really appreciate you talking to me about all of this. It helps."

  "Can I talk to you about a problem I've got?"

  "Absolutely. I'm all ears."

  Adrian took a deep breath. "I'm being threatened by a meth addict. He wants me to help him get pseudophedrine so he can cook big batches of speed."

  "Oh hell's bells, Adrian. You need to go to the police," Karen glanced over at Adrian. "That shit can't stand."

  "Except he's threatening to hurt other people if I do that," Adrian sighed. "WWKD?"

  "WWKD? What's that mean?"

  "You know, 'what would Karen do?'"

  She laughed a little, but without humor, "God Adrian, I have no idea. Maybe hope that he blows himself to kingdom come first?" She pulled the car over by Adrian's truck, "Do the people who he's threatening to hurt know?"

  Adrian shook his head. "I've been debating whether to tell them because I'm afraid they might sacrifice themselves for me"

  "You have to tell them. It's not fair for them to be in some kind of jeopardy and for you not to tell them, but good lord, who have you had time to put into a compromising position? You're so new in town..." Her voice trailed off. "It involves a closeted gay man doesn't it?"

  Adrian's silence was loud and clear.

  "Oh shit, I'm sorry Adrian, that's none of my business, but whoever it is, you need to tell them." She gave him a tight smile, and Adrian guessed she was thinking it was Clayton. "TWKD-that's what Karen would do. Honesty is almost always the best policy, and you can't shoulder these kinds of burdens on your own. People get hurt when there are secrets."

  Adrian leaned over and gave Karen a peck on the cheek, "Thanks pal. Sage advice." He got out and shut the door then poked his head back in through the open window, "I promise I will share everything with you, as soon as I can. And I do not plan on letting this change the fact that we are winning the race on Saturday."

  "Get the truth out their Adrian, then get the help you need."

  He patted the car, "Now get out of here, I'll see you at work tomorrow."

  Karen honked and drove away. As Adrian climbed in his truck, he smelled the distinctive odor of fresh paint and somehow it seemed to be emanating from his vehicle. He got back out and walked around the truck. He sucked in a breath. There on the passenger side, the one they couldn't see from the road, someone had spray-painted in huge letters, "Dr. Cocksucker."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next morning, as he looked for a parking space at Bear Paw, Adrian decided to edge the passenger side of his truck right up next to the brick wall, so that the patients coming and going wouldn't see the slur. He wondered if Bud's garage could give him a fast paint job, but he worried more about the perpetrator. Clearly meth-head wanted him to know that he was being watched.

  Clayton pulled in as Adrian was locking his truck and stuck his head out the window, "That's kind of an eccentric parking job, don't you think?" he joked.

  "You'll understand in a minute," Adrian responded.

  Clayton joined Adrian at his truck, and Adrian just motioned for him to walk around and look down the passenger side.

  "Dr. Cocksucker?" Clayton didn't know whether to laugh or not.

  "I know it could be funny, in a kind
of gallows humor way, but in this case, it's not funny at all." Adrian sighed.

  "This is why you need to talk to me?" Clayton's eyes grew serious. "I never expected this kind of blatant homophobia in Red Wheel."

  "That's just it Clayton, it's not some redneck who's afraid that the new fag doctor will turn the town gay. It's a little more complicated than that."

  "I've got rounds to make, and you're going to have a full waiting room today, so like you said, we'll talk about this tonight. You can come over to my place, if you want."

  "Not sure that's the best idea, maybe we should stay some place public. Let me think about it."

  Clayton held the door open for Adrian, "Okay, whatever you think."

  ***

  "Somebody painted 'Dr. Cocksucker' on my truck," Adrian told Karen over a slice of square pizza. "While we were paddling yesterday," he added.

  "Out here, in the west, people use that like bastard or son of a bitch," Karen tried to play it down.

  "No, I think they meant it literally," Adrian said with a snort.

  "You think it was the meth freak? Or have you pissed off someone else?"

  "Oh I'm pretty sure it was the meth freak."

  Karen put her fork down, "Adrian, you need to go to the cops. This could escalate until it's completely out of hand."

  "I need to talk to the other people involved, before I do anything."

  "People? Not person? There's more than one person besides you?" Karen looked surprised.

  Adrian sighed, "Yeah, there's more than one. But one of them I've really misjudged and I have to see if he'll even talk to me after what I've said to him. And the news is going to hit the other one like a truck.'