Radio Waves (manxman)[Match Maker Series]

Chapter Two

Jake

Wesley wasn’t going to get bitch slapped. He’d gotten jumped on the way to his room. By some miracle he’d only suffered a couple of bruises and a small cut beneath his left eye. He wouldn’t tell any of us who it was. This was really starting to piss the rest of us off.

“You need to report this SOB whoever he is. I don’t know why you’re protecting him when the guy is clearly a piece of shit. Is he doing this because you’re gay? Is he some asshole who just likes picking on smaller guys? You need to start talking and call campus security. You might not be the only one that he’s doing this to.” Match was on his knees in front of Wesley who was sitting on the old red sofa in Match’s living room. He hadn’t spoken a word since showing up at my door at nine with a ripped shirt and blood running down his face from the cut.

Gerard growled when Wesley just shook his head yet again. “Why are you refusing to do anything? Do you know this guy?” Wesley’s eyes flared briefly before lowering to the floor once more. Oh great, he knows this bastard. How the hell could we help him if he wouldn’t even let us?

I pushed myself away from the wall where I was leaning and went to sit beside Wesley. “You know we all love you, right?” My question received a brief nod. “It kills us every time this happens to you and you won’t let us help you. I know that if this happened to any one of us that you’d be the first in line to help in any way you could. Please let us help you.” It was torture to watch a big fat tear run down Wesley’s cheek as he once again shook his head.

Our hands were tied as long as Wesley refused to tell us anything. I looked at Gerard and Match and shook my head. All we could do was let it go. For now.

***

Gabe

The selection of songs in front of me sucked. I was forced to play the same damn songs over and over on almost every show. I looked over at the annoying, sweaty little man before me. “Jim, you need to start getting some decent new stuff. Most of these songs are older than I am.”

I could see the colour on his face rising, not a good look for him. “Now, Gabe I’ve been doing my job a long time and no one has ever complained.” I seriously doubted that. “There’s nothing wrong with the songs on our system. I’ve only just gotten another couple of albums from our suppliers and I’ve been going through the emails to see what else we’re being offered. I’m not a miracle worker and I’m trying to manage everything on a tight budget . . .”

I tuned the man out as he went off on his usual rant. It was the same thing every time. The man would have me playing Barbara Streisand and The Weather Girls on a constant loop if he could. Talk about stereotyping the gay community. Not every gay or straight person was into those songs. Although I do have to admit to loving some of them.

Jim slowly backed out of the room as he continued talking. The man just rubbed me the wrong way, I don’t know what it is about him. Maybe it’s the beady little close set eyes or his constantly sweating brow and palms. The man just gives me bad vibes.

I tossed my stuff into my backpack from my cluttered desk in my claustrophobic booth and hiked it over my shoulder. This was the time of day that I hated the most. After a long couple of hours on the airwaves and working behind the scenes I was heading home to a dark and empty house. To say that I was lonely would be an understatement. I yearned for someone to go home to. A warm body to curl up against and to love. I was past the age of frivolous affairs and meaningless sex. I wanted forever.