Darkest Fear

'Don't be stupid,' he finished for her.

The health club was located in a chi-chi hotel in mid-town. The walls were fully mirrored. The ceiling and the trim and the front desk were whole-milk white. Same with the clothes worn by the personal trainers. The weights and exercise machines were sleek and chrome and so beautiful you didn't want to touch them. Everything about the place gleamed; you were almost tempted to work out in sunglasses.

Myron found him on a bench press, struggling without a spotter. Myron waited, watching him wage war on gravity and the barbell. Chase Layton's face was pure red, his teeth gritted, veins in his forehead doing their pop-up video. It took some time, but the attorney achieved victory. He dropped the weight onto the stand. His arms fell to his sides like he'd missed a brain synapse.

'You shouldn't hold your breath,' Myron said.

Chase looked over at him. He didn't seem surprised or upset. He sat up, breathing heavily. He wiped his face with a towel.

'I won't take up much of your time,' Myron said.

Chase put the towel down and looked at him.

'I just wanted to say that if you want to press charges, Win and I won't get in your way.'

Chase did not reply.

'And I'm very sorry for what I did,' Myron said.

'I watched the news,' Chase said. 'You did it to save that boy's life.'

'Doesn't excuse it.'

'Maybe not.' He stood and added a plate to both sides of the bar. 'Frankly, Mr. Bolitar, I'm not sure what to think.'

'If you want to press charges—'

'I don't.'

Myron was not sure what to say, so he settled for 'Thank you.'

Chase Layton nodded and sat back on the bench. Then he looked at Myron. 'Do you want to know what the worst part of it is?'

No, Myron thought. 'If you want to tell me.'

'The shame,' Chase said.

Myron started to open his mouth, but Chase waved him quiet.

'It's not the beating or the pain. It's the feeling of total helplessness. We were primitive. We were man to man. And there was nothing I could do but take it. You made me feel like' — he looked up, found the words, looked straight at Myron—'like I wasn't a real man.'

The words made Myron cringe.

'I went to these great schools and joined all the right clubs and made a fortune in my chosen profession. I fathered three kids and raised them and loved them the best I could. Then one day you punch me — and I realize that I'm not a real man.'

'You're wrong,' Myron said.

'You're going to say that violence is no measure of a man. On some level you're right. But on some level, the base level that makes us men, we both know you're wrong. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. It'd just be a further insult.'

Myron swallowed down the cliches. Chase took deep breaths and reached for the bar.

'Need a spotter?' Myron said.

Chase Layton gripped it and jerked it off the stand. 'I don't need anybody,' he said.

Thursday came. Karen Singh introduced him to a fertility expert named Dr. Barbara Dittrick. Dr. Dittrick handed Myron a small cup and told him to masturbate into it. There were more surreal and embarrassing experiences in life, Myron guessed, but being led to a small room to masturbate into a cup while everyone waited for you in the next room had to be right up there with the best of them.

'Step in here, please,' Dr. Dittrick said.

Myron frowned at the cup. 'I usually insist on flowers and a movie.'

'Well, at least you got the movie,' she said, pointing at the television. 'The TV has X-rated videos.' She left the room and closed the door behind her.

Myron checked the titles. On Golden Blonde. Father Knows Breast (starring Robert Hung). Field of Wet Dreams ('If you watch it, they will come'). He frowned and passed. So to speak. He stared at the swivel leather chair, one of those lean-back kind, where probably hundreds of other men had sat and… He covered it with paper towels and did his bit, though it took some time. His imagination was spinning in the wrong direction, generating an aura about as erotic as mole hair on an old man's buttock. When he was, uh, finished, he opened the door and handed the cup to Dr. Dittrick and tried to smile. He felt like the world's biggest doofus. She wore rubber gloves, even though the, uh, specimen was in a cup. Like it might scald her. She brought it to a lab where they 'washed' (their expression, not his) the semen. The semen was declared 'serviceable but slow.' Like it was falling behind in algebra.

'Funny,' Emily said. 'I usually found Myron to be serviceable but quick.'

'Ha-ha,' Myron said.

A few hours later Emily was in a hospital bed. Barbara Dittrick smiled while inserting what looked suspiciously like a turkey baster into her and pressed the plunger. Myron took her hand. Emily smiled.

'Romantic,' she said.

Myron made a face.

'What?'

'Serviceable?' he said.

She laughed. 'But quick.'

Dr. Dittrick finished her part. Emily stayed prone for another hour. Myron sat with her. They were doing this to save Jeremy's life. That was all. He didn't let the future enter the equation. He didn't consider the long-term effects or what this might one day mean. Irresponsible, sure. But first things first.

They had to save Jeremy. The hell with the rest.

Terese Collins called him from Atlanta that afternoon. 'Can I come up and visit?' she asked.

'The station will give you more time off?'

'Actually, my producer encouraged me.'

'Oh?'

'You, my studly friend, are part of a huge story,' Terese said.

'You used the words 'studly' and 'huge' in the same sentence.'

'That turn you on?'

'Well, it might a lesser man.'

'And you are that lesser man.'

'I thank you,' he said.

'You're also the only one in this story who won't talk to the press.'

'So you just want me for my mind,' Myron said. 'I feel so used.'

'Dream on, hot buns. I want your bod. It's my producer who wants your brain.'

'Your producer cute?'

'No.'

'Terese?'

'Yes.'

'I don't want to talk about what happened.'

'Good,' she said. 'Because I don't want to hear it.'

There was a brief silence.

'Yeah,' Myron said. 'I'd like it very much if you came up.'

Ten days later, Karen Singh called him at home. 'The pregnancy didn't take.'

Myron closed his eyes.

'We can try again next month,' she said.

'Thanks for calling, Karen.'

'Sure.'