“Trust No One”
Jagger is a smaller framed individual whom always dresses to impress. Some of his best assets are his jet black hair, light brown eyes, and gorgeous baby face. He‘s obviously gay, and everyone who knows him are certain of that fact. The only saving grace from persecution of the Zealots is the efficiency he displays at his place of employment. Working for a Zealot General has its perks, not that Jagger would have even suspected this was the case, nor continued his work had he known the truth.
He is the assistant to the District Attorney of New York City, an office which had been corrupt for years following the rise of hatred. Jagger uses the contacts he made through this powerful position to get certain items no one else could or should find. This includes hormones, which he only distributes to the few friends he keeps. Skylar is always number one on his list as he has known her practically all his life. His allegiance and devotion has never faltered until now.
As he walks out of the diner he peers through the window for a moment, gazes at Skylar, and a tear forms in his eye. Jagger knows his own deceit is as despicable as anything he’s ever seen or heard the Zealots themselves do to anyone, anywhere. Through the window, he notices the well-dressed gentlemen sit down on a stool, and realizes the wheels are in motion. He can no longer prevent the inevitable crash. He storms off, turns a corner, and bumps into someone familiar.
“Why are you sneaking around corners? Jeez dude!” Jagger’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest.
The familiar stranger places on a hand on the young man’s shoulder, and speaks in a raspy tone, “Did you give the pills to her?”
“Yes. But I don’t understand. Why Skylar? She literally bothers no one. She refuses to date, or trust anyone. She’s no threat to them. Why is she even involved with all this?” Concerns Jagger.
“You’re far too emotional, Jags. Don’t you want to be together, babe? This comes down from top command, and me and you get a pardon. A full pardon. First-class tickets to the safe city, very few get to go there these days.”
“Miles, I want that so badly but she’s my best friend. I’m her only friend, I just feel terrible. I don’t know if I can live with this,” Jagger tugs his shoulder away from Miles’ hand.
Miles bats his gorgeous hazel eyes, grabs Jagger’s hand, and pulls him into the hallway of the apartment building behind them. He looks at the empty staircase and leads Jagger to the hidden crawl space underneath. Miles roughly places his hands behind Jagger’s neck jerking him forward until their lips meet.
A rush of warmth and passion flows through Jagger’s body. He lifts his hands and places them on his lover’s cheeks, letting his tongue fly freely. Jagger’s lustful nature was clear from the moment he laid eyes on Miles, and in these brief private moments there was a passion he had never felt before in his entire life. In these early stages of love, it’s always hard to tell what is real, and what is mere animalistic emotion. Through this kiss, Jagger feels Miles’ intentions are pure.
Heavy footsteps down the stairwell cause them to pull apart for the moment. Miles whispers, “I love you so much. So much. I don’t care who knows. The safe city is waiting for us both.”
“Oh my God,” Jagger trembles, “I love you so much too. It’s unbelievable we found each other in a world like this. What will happen to her? Do you know?”
“Yes, I do know. I cannot tell you. I wish I could but I just can’t.”
The two men stop the conversation as a woman walks down the staircase and straight out the front door. They are alone again and continue the conversation.
“I need to know, Miles. Will she die? Will they kill her?”
“Jags, it’s not about her. It’s about a man looking for her. I can’t say no more. I really can’t.”
“A man? Like a well-dressed man?” Jagger inquires. He wonders if the strange man who walked in the diner has anything to do with the Zealots desire to get to Skylar.
“Like, I don’t know. So, stop asking. You are really putting us in jeopardy here. Stop asking me!” Miles voice echoes through the hallway. “All that matters are me and you. What has she ever done for you? For real. Like what?”
“She’s been my friend all my life.” Jagger professes as he bends his head towards the tiled floor.
“Yeah, but she’s put you in peril your whole damn life. Transitioning, then contacting you afterwards! Having you get hormones for her! Every time you deal in the black market you’re placing your life in your hands. Do you think she really cares like I do? Do you?” Miles lectures.
“I never thought about it that way. But if she doesn’t get them from me, then she would go elsewhere and put her own life in jeopardy,” Jagger exclaims.
“NO! You said it yourself, she barely trusts you. You’re just a dope dealer to her. She hasn’t a care in the world about you. I’m trying to get you to safety. There is a real love here. Whatever she’s into—this guy is looking for her, and that’s where she lied to you. She knows him. They are up to something and this is now bigger than you and I.”
“She doesn’t know him. She can’t.”
“She does! Stop fooling yourself. I have to go, babe. I’ll see you tonight. You leave now, I’ll follow in a few minutes. I have to call into work and let them know I’ll be late. I love you.” Miles kisses Jagger on his lips softly, then playfully shews him away.
“I love you too. I’ll see you tonight.” As Jagger walks away, he can’t help but think about Skylar Rose. The poisonous words delivered by Miles had resonated with him, and he wonders what else his so-called friend never told him. Why was he to take all the risks, and she receives all the rewards? Confusion, hurt, and a tinge of rage fill Jagger‘s weak mind. All that matters now was Miles taking him away to the safe city. Jagger had never been in love before, and too overwhelmed with emotions to sift through reality.
Miles watches his lover glide out the door, floating into the clouds. He cups his hands and wipes off his lips, bends his knees, and spits on the ground multiple times. His lips curl up, and he winces as if someone shoved lemons into his mouth. He bangs his fists against the sides of his own head as covers his eyes in shame. He takes a wireless phone from his pocket, scrolls through a contact list, presses the screen, and lifts the handset to his ear.
“Yes, sir,” he begins. “Yes. I had to kiss him. I’m so sorry, I hope they can forgive me for this. I feel so dirty inside, I wanted to punch him in his filthy throat. Yes. Yes, sir. He doesn’t know. I told him everything you said I could. By the time I’m finished with him, he’ll hate that doping bitch. Yes. Yes, sir. The man you told me about was in the diner. Yes, I saw him walk up. I only have one request sir… When it’s all over, I want to be the one to kill him. Filthy sinner! Thank you. I will. Bye.”