The Heart of the Jungle, стр. 44
In the next instant, he jerked away and clumsily disentangled himself from Jason's body. He rolled out of the bed and rushed blindly to the bathroom, pursued by a groggy, "Chris?"
He closed the door and locked it. He slid down the wall and came to rest on the cool tile. He cradled his head in his hands. What have we done? What have I done? How could I have let this happen?
There was a knock at the door. "Chris? Are you okay?"
He controlled his breathing, trying to put down the tremor he knew would be obvious in his voice. "I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute," he said.
There was a long silence on the other side of the door. "You're upset about what happened."
Chris pinched his eyes closed and shook his head. He couldn't spend the rest of his life in the bathroom. He was going to have to face Jason again sometime.
He stood, wrapped a towel around himself, and opened the door.
Jason looked at him imploringly. Chris was surprised to see shame on his face. What did Jason have to be ashamed about? Chris was the one who didn't put a stop to it.
He brushed by and fumbled with his clothes, dressing hastily.
Jason came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Chris shrugged it away.
"So you're just going to give me the cold shoulder now? You got what you wanted and now I'm history?"
Chris spun around and glared at him. "That's not true."
"Then what's your problem? Why the sudden change of heart?"
"Because it's wrong. Can't you see that? Don't you understand it should never have happened?"
"Why, Chris? Why?"
"I... I led you on. Led you to believe I was ready for something more, but I'm not. I can't offer you something I don't have to give. We--- I did something incredibly stupid." He pulled on his pants and hastily struggled into his socks.
"Stupid? You think it was stupid? I didn't hear you complaining about it last night," Jason railed. His face was stricken. Chris turned his eyes to the floor. How could he have treated Jason's heart so carelessly?
After all the man had done for him, how could he have been so thoughtless?
Jason turned away and marched to the window. He didn't speak for several minutes. When he turned back to Chris, his eyes were hard. "I know what this is all about. I was right about you. You're nothing but a coward."
There was a flash of pain in Chris's heart. Jason's words cut deep, but the wound was yet to be opened.
"No wonder you tried to kill yourself. I'd cut my wrists too, if I were as pathetic as you are."
Chris gasped at the deep and intense shock of those words. The blood drained from his face, and he thought he might be sick. He staggered back a step, and his mouth worked as if to speak. Nothing came out but a tortured moan.
Jason was instantly contrite. "Oh God, Chris, I'm sorry," he tried, but it was too late. The wall had sprung up between them, looming and impenetrable. Chris was in his shoes and out the door before Jason could utter another word.
After Chris left, Jason deflated. What had he done?
He hadn't meant to say those things, but he was hurting badly from the sudden rejection and the unexpected pain it caused him. He'd thought that something had begun, something wonderful.
He dropped onto the bed and wrapped his arms around himself. He had just ruined any chance of that. Chris would never look at him the same again. The things he'd said were unforgivably cruel.
Hasn't he had enough pain? Hasn't the world shit on him enough?
Did he really deserve you adding to it? Maybe he's better off without you, anyway. You're an asshole right to the core, Jason Kingsley. You deserve to be alone.
He sat there mentally berating himself. All the remembered guilt and frustration he'd felt over Bradley came welling up---all the guilt and frustration over his failure in the FBI.
For the first time since Don Gerry went free because of his stupid mistake, tears of remorse slid down his cheeks. Now, as then, he let them come. He didn't try to fight them. He brought one away with his fingertip, staring at it, realizing that if anyone was as worthy of this tear as all those children he'd failed, Chris was. It was the best and only apology he was certain he would ever be allowed to make.
CHRIS was too mortified to cry as he stormed down the hallway and into the elevator. As the car descended, the shock turned to wrath. By the time he was on the ground floor he was positively livid.
How could he?
He stormed into the lobby.
This is ending here and now, goddamn it. I don't need him.
He marched to the front desk and tried to compose himself. A petite Hispanic woman looked up at him and smiled. "Could you tell me if Curt Marcus is working?" he asked.
She typed on her keyboard. "Yes. Shall I page him for you, sir?"
"Please do. It's important that I speak to him right away."
She picked up the phone and dialed a number. "He should be here soon," she assured him, placing the handset back into its cradle.
It took less than five minutes for Curt to arrive.
"Good morning," Curt greeted, looking around for Jason.
"Jason's not here. I wonder if you could do me a favor."
"For you, hot stuff, anything."
Chris tried to force a smile, but he was still seething, so he wasn't sure how successful he was. "Do you know anyone who works at the Bellagio? Someone who could get you