Chapter Text
The funeral had been a dull affair. Raúl would not have liked it, but as these things went, he hadn't had a say in the matter. Around fifteen dark-clad figures had gathered in the little chapel and even fewer thirty minutes later outside, when the urn had been lowered into the ground amidst three or four stifled sobs. Ten people grieving the man Raúl had been and two grave diggers lurking like vultures, eager to close that horrible hole with finality.
Ned hadn't talked to anyone, and he hadn't cried. He'd done enough of that three days ago when he'd first listened to the message on his answering machine, and then some more when he'd listened to it again.
It was the same sinking feeling every time: when would this dying end? And when would it be his turn?
He hadn't heard much from Raúl lately. They had seen each other often for a few feverish weeks back in '81, before Raúl moved on to someone else, because he didn't like Ned's job and thought the way he never talked about his family was strange.
Raúl had talked about his family whenever the opportunity presented itself, and often when it didn't, yet only two lone women had sat in the first row of the chapel, one in her early sixties and already completely gray, and one about Raúl's age, probably one of his sisters.
The seats that hadn't been empty had been occupied by familiar-looking men, though he hadn't actually known a single one of them, and three short-haired women who looked about as ashen as he felt. None of them had been dressed as finely as he - his Armani suit was a perfect fit, complimented by the shining cuff links and freshly polished shoes. His coat was new, dark gray wool and a wine red lining, and he'd spent most of the service picking dog hairs from the fabric.
He'd kept his sunglasses on for the entire funeral .
Now, on the subway, he felt almost normal again. It was hard not to feel normal when you were surrounded by every flavor of lunatic New York City had to offer. And as he clung white-knuckled to a pole that probably had more germs on it than a toilet seat at The Saint, he came to the conclusion that he didn't want to die. Not like that. Not like Raúl, Stephen, Lawrence, Ricky. He'd been playing with fire for long enough.
A voice devoid of empathy announced Wall Street and moments later Ned hurried up a flight of stairs and then down the busy street, until he found an unoccupied phone booth. Frantically, he searched his coat pockets for some loose change and the little scrap of paper with Eli's number on it. He dialed with steady fingers.
"Hello?"
He was glad Eli answered the phone himself, and not his very blond roommate whose name Ned kept forgetting.
"Hi, it's me."
"It's not a good time, I'm about to leave for work."
Ned cleared his throat. "I don't think should see each other again."
"Wha—"
He hung up. How easy. Cruel, yes, but for the best. For both of them. He tossed the piece of paper into the nearest bin and lit a cigarette as he sauntered past the Exchange building towards the office. It wasn't far. He'd been gradually working his way closer to the NYSE over the last few years and now only a handful of houses separated the sleek skyscraper he called his workplace (and frankly, home for about 50 hours each week) from the largest stock exchange in the world.
He moved swiftly through the sea of pinstripe suits and slicked-back hair, stopping only to buy the newest Barron's from a newsstand. It was eleven thirty, lunch time. He'd announced yesterday that he wouldn't be in until twelve due to a doctor's appointment. So what? He'd be early, and he'd make sure his boss noticed.
The huge glass doors of Elliott & Associates were open, expecting him. It was April, and today marked the first warm day of the year, the sort of day after a long winter that suddenly made you remember what summer felt like. Ned was almost a little disappointed he wouldn't be able to wear his nice coat for much longer.
The receptionist greeted him with a smile and he smiled back, grateful for the cooler air in the spacious lobby. The marble-clad walls reflected the sunlight coming in from the outside, giving the impression of something unworldly, divine.
On the elevator, however, it was impossible to escape the exchange of niceties and subtle threats.
The Nikkei's down, have you heard about Anita, what a gorgeous day, just treated myself to a little Rolex, check it out.
Ned usually lived for this, but now he felt like he didn't have anything at all to say, like he was barely there - it was as if his mind still clung to that wooden chair in the sixth row of the chapel, studying the hair of the people in front of him, everything to avoid the looming, monstrous cross towering above all of them. The urn had looked minuscule in comparison, always sobering to see how little remained of a human. A human Ned used to be able to touch and to call late at night and to curse.
"So, any plans for tonight?" the dumb rookie in front of him asked as he modestly covered his watch with his sleeve again.
"Sure," Ned said and couldn't think of anything else. The elevator's ding came to his rescue. He squeezed past the boy and through the doors before they had a chance to fully open.
The 23rd floor - his domain. Before him lay the bullpen, open-plan, desk by desk by desk, phones ringing, screens flashing, men shouting. The chaotic open space was surrounded by the glass-walled private offices belonging to the managing directors, like a more chaste parallel world. Of course there was nothing chaste about it.
Instead of walking straight to his desk, he made a detour past Mr Russo's (one of the associates) office, who, as usual, was busy screaming into his multi-line phone, red-eared and sweaty, so Ned settled for a quick knock on the glass and a wave when Russo looked up. There was no recognition on his face.
It was twenty minutes to twelve when, after a quick stop by the coffee machine, Ned finally approached his desk.
Larry, recently dubbed Lionel due to his new Jheri curl (for which he'd already faced a private discussion with Russo due to the haircut being 'unprofessional', but Larry's sense of style was yet to be defeated), was already waiting for him.
"Coop! The sharpshooter has returned! What did the doc say? Is the lunacy terminal? How long you got left?"
"Just long enough to steal your book. Your rolodex is as good as mine."
Larry laughed. "In your dreams, Cooper." He leaned against Ned's desk. "Anyway, did you hear about the Nikkei? Not sure what that means for us."
"It means we should probably focus on what's happening here. Look at IBM, look at Chrysler. Japan's a long way."
"I don't know. Brian seems a little stressed, too."
Ned finally sat down, almost spilling his coffee over yesterday's notes. He could feel the morning in his bones. "Then go and bother Brian, for all I care. I'm really not in the mood."
"Not in the mood?" Larry crossed his arms. "Who are you and what have you done to my dear Ned?"
It took him one more look at Ned's face before he sighed and left to bother Brian four desks down.
Ned looked up at the blinking tickers. Everything seemed normal, no need to panic just because things on the other side of the world were going downhill for a day or two. He drank his coffee quickly while scanning the Barron's magazine, then started the day as usual by calling clients. Everything was normal, but why could he feel his heart beat in his hands, why did everything else seem so fast and he so slow, the flashing, the ringing, the colleagues and clients yelling into his ear, oh now the Dow dropped too? It looked like someone was being fired two desks away from him and all he could focus on was the heavy stench of cologne and cigarette smoke, meant to mask but useless, he could still smell yesterday's hangovers, no one in the bullpen was without sin.
He hadn't done any coke in weeks, pretty much since he'd first met Eli, as if he was looking for some strange way to impress him, but it was hard, and who could blame him should this day drive him over the edge again?
In the early afternoon, a secretary dropped off coffee for the department. Her name was Rachel, they had done a few lines in the men's bathroom together months ago, and he still enjoyed her company, not just because she was a source of coffee that never seemed to run dry.
"You're looking a little pale, Cooper," she said and he shrugged.
"Didn't get much sleep last night."
"So I won't see you at the gym tonight?"
Shit. He knew he'd forgotten something. "It's just a headache, I'll see how I feel. And I'm sure Larry and Brian will go."
She sighed theatrically. "Yes, but they never let me win."
"Well, I guess in that case I have no choice but to come."
She grinned and was gone again. He never let her win on purpose, he just wasn't a great squash player, and yes, maybe he liked seeing her little victory dances. Sometimes they flirted, but that didn't count, because everyone was flirting with her. Although now that he was officially a single man again, maybe he should take these things more seriously.
Staring at his too-bright monitor, he saw the two of them walk along a deserted beach, hand in hand, kiss in his car, watch the sun set over the city from his apartment. A normal life. Safe. They would still go to the disco of course, but only to dance. He could make it work.
Her comment about him looking pale still stung, though, and he called his barber to book an appointment for Saturday morning.
A client called, clearly drunk, wanting to go all in on something, money shouldn't be an issue. Ned took a risk, and another one, he stressed the runner out, he called more clients, charmed them, calmed them, complimented them, Raúl would have hated seeing him like this, he would have claimed this wasn't natural, whatever that meant. Obviously this 50-floor glass monolith wasn't natural, and neither were the gray carpet and their polyester suits - but it was real and it made him feel alive.
He flinched when Rachel called his name.
"Ned? Your pizza's here!"
He almost hadn't heard her over the general bustle filling the large room.
"My what?" He spun around, cradling the receiver against his shoulder.
Eli stood by the elevator, wearing his stupid red Domino's hat and the matching polo shirt, a single pizza box in his hands. He looked very serious.
Ned turned around again, closing his eyes for a moment. "I will call you back, sir, I'll have to look into it— No, I wouldn't recommend that. Yes, sir. Alright. Bye-bye."
He hung up, defeated. Not so easy, after all.
"Ordered a single pizza just for yourself?" came Larry's voice from the side, "That's a new low, even for you."
"I'll make it up to you," Ned said as he rose from his chair.
"Ha! I doubt it, but I'll remind you!"
As he made his way through the rows of desk, his tie felt very tight, and when he looked down, trying to avoid Eli's eyes, he saw a bit of blood under his thumbnail he hadn't noticed until now. Could it … no, that was just absurd.
"You can come with me," he said to Eli and gestured to follow him. There was a rarely used kitchen on the 25th floor and he prayed that it was empty.
The moment the elevator doors closed behind them, Eli burst out, "What is the fucking deal with you? One day you're taking me to Delmonico's for dinner and then the next?"
Ned studied his reflection in the mirror next to Eli's shoulder. It was true, he was pale, this morning he'd clearly forgotten to shave, and despite it feeling so tight, his tie hung scandalously loose.
"Fantastic!," Eli said, "And now you're ignoring me."
"I'm not."
The doors opened. The entire floor looked abandoned, a stark contrast to the scenes playing out just two floors below them, only from one office came the keyboard clacking of a junior assistant catching up with yesterday's paperwork.
As expected, the kitchen was empty. Ned closed the door behind them.
A counter, a humming fridge, a sink, an oval table from the seventies and four dusty chairs - it was clear this kitchenette was only used in emergencies or maybe for they occasional hook-up. They would be undisturbed for a little while.
Eli placed the pizza box on the table before leaning against the counter, frowning. It was almost comical how pissed he looked. Ned sat down and opened the box, only to find it empty. He hadn't eaten all day and was starting to feel the effects. He sighed.
"Of course it's empty," Eli said. "I'm not about to lose my job for stealing a pizza, and I'm also not spending money on a pizza for a man who thinks I'm useful for sucking his dick whenever he calls, and then to be disposed of."
"You're making this sound very dramatic."
"But isn't that what it is?" He threw up his hands. "Hell, I suppose I would even be fine with that sort of relationship. I don't care. But I just never know where I'm at with you. You're talking about taking me to Aruba and three hours later something like today happens."
Ned picked at the edge of the pizza box. "I know."
"I guess I just can't deal with the uncertainty."
"I went to a funeral this morning."
"I'm sorry. Was it—"
"Of course it was fucking AIDS!" He stood. "It always is!"
They were both quiet for a minute. Eli had turned away, facing the huge window overlooking the city. The sky was still a steely blue. Ned looked at Eli. He had never realized how much he reminded him of Raúl, the sad eyes, the dark hair, the boyish lankiness. But Raúl had been handsome in a way Eli wasn't and would never be. He was attractive to Ned in a plethora of other ways. He loved his long legs and the gentle curve of his nose, how his breathing slowed when he fell asleep and how his voice sounded when he'd just woken up. How he played with his dog and how he danced.
"I'm tired of waking up to another friend's obituary every week," Ned said quietly. "And I don't know what to do. I like you. I just wish I could stop lying to my colleagues and tell them how I actually spent my weekend, or my plans for the holidays."
"But you could."
"No, I cannot! You don't know how they talk about— us. Every day I hear something about the gay plague, the gay cancer. And it's been going on for years! One rumor and it's over for me. At best, people don't care about us dying. But more often they want us dead."
"That's not true. I have people who care about me."
And Ned knew that he did. That was the hardest part. It was so easy to condemn the whole world that he tended to forget not everyone felt as isolated as he did.
"Ada took me to the funeral of a friend of hers last week," Eli said, apparently still talking to the window. "And afterwards she told me she sometimes has trouble falling asleep because she's so worried about me, and that she used to wish I was different. I don't even sleep around. But two or three years ago I wished for the same thing."
"I miss not having to worry every time I touch someone. You."
Eli smiled weakly. "We took a lot of things for granted back in the day, huh?"
"We did."
"So whose funeral did you go to earlier?"
"It's not important. We hadn't talked in years."
"Hm." Eli crossed his arms. "I should probably head back to work. And you too. You seemed quite busy."
"Wait," Ned said as he placed his hand on Eli's hip. "Are you free tonight? I could use some company that doesn't involve striking a rubber ball against a wall."
"But I thought you didn't want to see me again?"
Ned rolled his eyes. "Just a drink. And maybe we can figure things out some more. I'm sorry about the phone call. I didn't mean it like that."
"Okay," Eli said, "eight p.m. at your place. I can bring pizza."
"Sounds good." Ned opened the door. "After you."
The elevator took its time and while they waited for it to arrive, they stood awkwardly and silent next to each other. Ned thought about Rachel, and how disappointed she would be when he canceled squash, while Eli searched his pockets for the scooter key. Whoever had taken up residence in the lonely office up here, was still typing away.
Then, once on the elevator, without notice, Eli leaned down and kissed him. It was just a peck, but Ned smelled tomato sauce and the street on him and knew that he didn't stand a chance. Whatever it was they had was far from being over. They would figure it out. They had to. It was the only way to survive.
Seconds before the doors opened again, he gave Eli's ass a quick squeeze, which earned him a disapproving look.
Ding
The 23rd floor. Elliott & Associates.
Ned stepped out of the elevator without looking back. These were his hunting grounds, and he had shares to sell.