Page 2 of Promises Kept

“Yes, Iggy. If you give me the gun and let me call someone, we can make this all go away. Make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore.” Alec was close to Iggy now, his eyes focused on the boy who eyed him in both hope and suspicion.

Alec took a deep breath and reached out what was a surprisingly steady hand to the gun, which was still aimed in the direction of his crotch. His fingers briefly touched Iggy’s, and as he did the younger man stared with apprehension written all over his sweaty face. Alec hoped like hell he wasn’t about to have Dylan’s favourite plaything shot to smithereens in a burst of flesh and blood.

“Let me have the gun, then we can sit down and get to the bottom of all this.” His voice was soothing although he felt anything but calm. “You know I keep my promises. Remember that gig I managed to organise for the band when everyone thought it was a no-go? I promised you I’d do it and I did, didn’t I? I can do the same now, with a bit of help. Trust me. Give me the gun.”

Iggy’s breath left his body in a deep, shuddering sigh and he nodded as Alec reached in between them and gently removed the weapon from Iggy’s cold and clammy hand.

Alec moved back to his desk slowly, placing the weapon in his bottom drawer, which he closed and then locked. His legs threatened to turn to jelly, but he managed to stay upright. He heaved a sigh of relief and moved back to clasp Iggy’s shoulder gently and steer him to the couch under the window that looked out onto the busy King’s Cross street below.

Iggy peered up at him, his eyes flooding with tears. “You can fix this?”

Alec knelt down beside him. “I know someone who can. Tell me, have you got your tablets with you? In your pocket perhaps?”

Iggy shook his head. “I don’t think so. They’re in the bathroom at home. They make me feel sick. Please don’t make me take them.” His hands fidgeted incessantly, and Alec closed his own hands around the younger man’s.

“I won’t. What I want to do is call Dr Cross and have him come around to fetch you. He’ll be able to give you a check-up and make sure you get tablets that don’t make you feel ill. You know him, and you know he’s a good man.” Alec pulled out his mobile and ran through the names, found the one he wanted, and hit the button. He kept a firm hand on Iggy’s shoulder, keeping the young man grounded.

As Dr Allan Cross answered his mobile, Alec heard yet another commotion outside his office door. His boyfriend’s frantic voice made Alec’s heart lurch. No doubt Dylan had been told what was going on and had come to see for himself. Alec didn’t want Dylan storming in with his usual forcefulness and upsetting the delicate balance of trust Alec had created between him and Iggy. Time to work fast.

“Allan? Alec Ransom here. Not much time to talk I’m afraid. I’ve got young Iggy Ferris here in my office. He’s been off his meds a while as they made him sick and I’m really hoping you can come on over and help him. He’s all right at the moment but he really needs you to help him make ‘them’ go away.” He smiled reassuringly at Iggy, and Iggy’s wide eyes stared back.

Alec thanked God that Allan was quick off the mark when he replied quickly. “I’ll be over in a jiffy. Give me ten minutes to get to you. Can you hold out that long?”

Alec winced. “I’ll try. Please get here as fast as you can. He’s not doing well.”

“On my way. Hold tight.”

Alec put his phone back in his pocket and sat down beside Iggy. “Right. The doctor’s on his way. We can amuse ourselves for the next ten minutes while we wait for him, can’t we? Perhaps if we did something to distract them? How about singing something from that last hit you wrote, ‘Never Ending.’ You can manage that, can’t you?”

Iggy nodded, his eyes brightening. “Yeah, that’s a good song. One of my best.”

***

Thatwas how Dylan Donahue found his boyfriend after letting himself into his lover’s office—Alec sitting on the sofa humming while a dishevelled wiry teenager sung in a strong rock voice. Dylan had wanted to call the police, but Vangie had said that wasn’t what Alec wanted and for Dylan to let Alec handle it.

Ah, no. Dylan’s fear for his lover’s safety had overwhelmed him, but knowing Alec had a background in psychology had made Dylan wait before storming the castle. If anyone could calm down a crazy person, it was Alec. Eventually, though, Dylan’s impatience and worry had gotten the better of him.

Alec sat side by side with the rather foul-smelling and dirty-clothed young man belting out lines from a rock song Dylan would rather have forgotten, or never even heard in the first place. He was glad to see there was no sign of the gun Evangeline had mentioned.

Let me be your number one, full of piss and vinegar

Let me take you by the hands and lead you to my world

You need to be mine, all mine, Never Ending.

Alec’s hand was held up in a warning command to stay away, and it stopped Dylan cold. Another gesture from Alec told Dylan he wanted the door closed behind him. After obeying the silent hand signals, Dylan stood, waiting patiently while the final chorus finished, and another began.

His ears were beginning to bleed. While the young man might have a good voice, husky and powerful, the same couldn’t be said about Alec. His off-key tenor was a little jarring and the song’s lyrics weren’t of the sort Dylan was partial to.

Finally, there was a tentative knock at the door and an announcement that the doctor was here. With a look of relief, Alec motioned to Dylan to open the door and let him in. From that point on it was all rather chaotic.

A large, portly man Alec called Allan came into the room. Between them, with only a little fuss from the young man, they got him out of the room and downstairs to the street. Alec was constantly reassuring the boy even as they were going down the stairs, the two of them were still singing. Dylan followed them amid curious glances from patrons in the street. He watched while standing by the building’s doorway as Alec helped the young man into a waiting paramedic car. Alec nodded at the older man and waved as the vehicle sped off.

Suddenly, he folded in on himself, sagging in what appeared to be complete exhaustion. Dylan moved forward swiftly, his arm going around Alec’s waist as he pulled him into his arms.

“Christ, are you okay? You’re as white as bloody pancake makeup. Who the hell was that little tosser?”

Alec grimaced as he leaned into the strength of Dylan’s arms. “Iggy, one of the guys from In Vitro, a band I manage. He had a bit of an episode as he’s been off his schizo meds, and I had to calm him down.” Alec moved away from Dylan and tugged at his hand. “Come on. Let’s get back into the office. I need to make a couple of calls. And figure out what to do with the bloody gun.”