Read Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four Online
Authors: Various Authors
Tags: #Don't Read in the Closet, #mm romance, #gay
“I’ll respect him when he respects my brother!” Marcellus shot
back, taking Romeo’s arm.
“This…” Momma said, turning on Poppa. “This is your family.
Your brother—”
Poppa started. “He is not—”
“Easy, Mr. Balducci.” None of his sons would have dared, but
Ariana walked right up to Poppa, holding out a full glass. “Have a
drink.”
“Young lady—”
“Come on,” Marcellus muttered, propelling Romeo out the door.
In the hall he drew a deep breath. “Well, so much for Poppa’s idea that
gays are sissies. That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I should—”
“What, give them a chance to toss you out before they think? No.
Let Ariana do some damage control.”
“She knew,” Romeo said.
“Yeah, she guessed over Christmas. I thought she was dreaming,
but then I have some stereotypes stuck in my head too. Uncle Marino
is pretty feminine. Not saying he isn’t brave as hell too; coming out
twenty years ago had to be even worse.”
“I…need to sit down.”
“I bet.” Marcellus guided Romeo into the kitchen, sat him on a
stool and found a half-finished bottle of wine. “So,” he said as he
poured, “tell me about him.”
Julian. Romeo could talk about Julian now. Except— “He’s…I
don’t know if he’s…we haven’t talked…”
“So don’t tell me his name. He must be someone special, to have
you all confused.”
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“Oh my God,” Romeo rubbed his face with both hands, took a
deep breath, took up his wine. “He’s brilliant, Marcellus. Beautiful.
And he draws. His hands…” Romeo shook his head. “I can’t even…”
Marcellus grinned. “Head over heels, huh?”
“More like flat on my face.”
“So does his family know?”
“I don’t think so.” Romeo shook his head. “There’s this girl…”
“Uh oh.”
“No. He doesn’t love her.”
“Well.” Marcellus sipped his drink. “When you claim your man,
big brother, if Poppa can’t see past the past—well, me and Marino are
two Balduccis-in-exile already. Might as well make it three.”
“You’re not in exile.”
“I am if I marry Ariana. Can you imagine her and Momma living
in the same village? We’re in negotiations—right now we’re stuck on
how many times a year I’ll try to drag her home for visits.”
“I’ll play wingman for her any time,” Romeo said. Marcellus
laughed.
“Yeah, we thought you were an ally.” He slapped Romeo’s good
shoulder. “You all right? I should go remind them that if they toss you
out, the Balducci Inn comes to an end. Ariana won’t think of that.”
“Thank you, Marcellus.”
“Thank you, Romeo, for never letting Gastone dunk me in the
toilet or lock me in the wine cellar.” He took the bottle and his glass
and left. Romeo sat alone in the kitchen that had been the center of his
world since he could remember and finally understood why Poppa
didn’t want a work-saving shiny stainless steel commercial
dishwashing unit. Why Momma resisted updating the oven to
something younger than she was. He tried to imagine cooking in
Marino’s apartment and he couldn’t.
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He tried to imagine cooking in this kitchen for all the world except
Julian, and that was worse. Romeo set his glass down and stood.
When you claim your man
, Marcellus had said, and that was
exactly what he was going to do.
He started off by cleaning his room, planning what and how he
would pack if it came to that. He found all his financial statements and
put them in a folder. He found his best suit in the back of his closet
and washed and pressed it. He went out to the old barn and checked
the fluids on his car, took it out for a spin as he hadn’t lately and
brought it home and washed it as best he could in the dark.
When he went back into the inn he could hear Marcellus talking
fast and his mother crying, but he went on past the den and upstairs to
shower.
In the morning Romeo started breakfast before anyone else was
up. His mother and father joined in when they came, but they had a
hard time looking at him and the usual cheerful conversation was
replaced by terse requests and information.
Once Momma cornered Romeo. “I had a choice once,” she said
quickly, her eyes darting to Poppa across the room shredding cheese.
“I chose family. I never regretted it.”
Poppa wasn’t her first choice? Romeo would have asked more, but
she hurried off.
It didn’t matter.
When the dishes were done, Romeo went upstairs and showered.
He put on his best suit and combed his hair and wished he had time to
get it cut. He took his financial statements and his keys and trotted
down the stairs.
Only Ariana saw him go. She nodded approval of the suit, kissed
his cheek and wished him luck.
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In Julian’s driveway—in Donata’s driveway—Romeo shut off the
car and took a deep breath before he got out. He left the statements in
the car. He really couldn’t imagine that Julian’s reason for clinging to
Donata was her money, but he wanted his argument ready.
When he came up the steps, Julian was coming out the door, a
bright red messenger bag on his shoulder.
“Oh,” Julian said. “I…thought you were the cab. You look really
nice.” His gaze slid by and fell on the car; his eyes widened. It was a
Ferrari, yeah, but not nearly as nice as the one Romeo had advertised
to earn it. “Is that yours?”
“Yes. Julian, give me a chance—”
“Romeo.” Julian grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess of
everything and I’m a jerk besides, but will you help me?”
“Anything,” Romeo said. Julian winced.
“You’ll get over that. But please take me to the hospital anyway?
Donata sent a cab, but it’s still not here and my grandmother—”
Romeo took his arm and put him in the car. “Buckle up,” he
ordered as he slid into his seat.
“Thank you,” Julian said, dropping his bag on the floor. Romeo
reached over and snapped the seat belt around him.
“You’ll need it,” he said as he backed out, tires squealing on the
turn.
Romeo had been told he drove more aggressively than he played,
but Julian didn’t notice. Every time Romeo slowed for a traffic hazard,
Julian begged him to go faster. He almost beat his head on the dash
when they got stopped by a farm tractor trying to angle a trailer of hay
into a driveway, both vehicles sideways across the the road. Romeo
leaned out the window and yelled they were headed to the hospital
and the farmer backed up as far as he could. The car slipped by with
maybe three centimeters between Julian’s door and the tractor, but
Julian only urged Romeo on.
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“What happened to your grandmother?” Romeo asked, flooring
the accelerator on the far side of the obstacle.
“She’s dying,” Julian said.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know…” Julian buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know
what to do,” he said softly.
“I’ll get you there.”
“She’s dying,” he said again, leaning his head on the window with
that lost look Romeo so hated to see. He wrapped his arms around
himself. “I don’t know what to do.”
Romeo reached over to take his hand.
“I love you,” Julian said. “I’m sorry.”
Romeo kept his eyes on the road. “You won’t be,” he promised.
“You’re crazy and I love you but I won’t go against my
grandmother on her deathbed. I’m sorry.”
Romeo bit his lip and drove. Despite what he’d said, Julian clung
to his hand. Even when Romeo needed it for twisting roads, he didn’t
take it back. He shifted with Julian’s hand in his. They drove into a
storm and rode in silence through grey and rain.
In the city it wasn’t raining. Romeo parked and was fast enough to
help Julian out of the car; Julian was so upset he was unsteady.
Romeo grabbed his bag and held his arm and ushered him inside.
In a pretty little room but for the medical equipment, Donata
leaned over a big bed with a small old woman in it. Donata shot Julian
a forced smile, stared at Romeo an instant, and stepped back. Romeo
wondered if he should have come in but didn’t want to leave, so he
stood against the wall by the door. Julian bent over the bed to take his
grandmother’s hand.
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She said something soft and Julian answered, smoothing his
grandmother’s hair. She waved her free hand and Donata came back.
The old woman took Donata’s hand and put it in Julian’s.
All the world went dim and Romeo slipped out.
Beside the door was a bench. Romeo sank down on it.
He should go.
A nurse walked past.
Donata was there, with her cabs and her money. She would look
after Julian. He should go.
A cart went by with covered trays. A beeping noise down the hall
brought footsteps hurrying.
Someone guided a dustmop around Romeo’s feet and moved on.
A cart rolled by piled with trays and meal remnants.
He should go.
“Romeo! Are you all right?”
His mother. Oh hell, and his father and Gastone, how? Romeo
stood to kiss Momma and she let him. His father glared when Romeo
stepped towards him. Gastone stood to the side as if he wasn’t part of
the group.
“I’m fine, Momma,” Romeo answered. “What are you doing
here?”
“Did you think we wouldn’t hear?” his father snapped. “Romeo
Balducci, racing for the hospital like the hounds of hell chased him!
Your mother nearly fainted! Not a call, not a word!”
Romeo groaned. All the neighbors did know him, and his family.
“I’m sorry to scare you, Papa. My friend needed to get here. His
grandmother—”
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“Your friend?” Momma asked. She stepped back against his
father. “Romeo, in
public?
”
Blessed Virgin, please not here! Romeo stepped towards the
lobby. “It’s a hospital, Momma. Let’s talk outside.”
“Now you have shame?” she hissed. “You come here racing so
everyone can see, but when it’s your parents you want to talk
outside?”
“It’s not about shame!” Romeo lowered his voice. “I’m not
ashamed and I
won’t
be ashamed, unless it’s of my close-minded
hidebound relations!”
She slapped him. He deserved it; he let her. But he wished with all
his soul Julian hadn’t come out of the room at that very moment.
“Romeo?” he asked. Romeo’s mother glared, so hard Julian took a
step back. Romeo stepped in front of Julian, swallowed as the glare
he’d feared from childhood centered on him.
“Momma,
please,
” he said. Can we talk outside?”
“Romeo, come home.” She stepped close, kissed his cheek where
she’d slapped him. “I’m so sorry. We’ll talk. Come home.”
“I can’t right now, Momma. His grandmother—”
“You’ll put him above your family? Some gigolo that you met—”
“I do hate to interrupt,” Donata said at Romeo’s elbow, “but could
you take your stupidity outside? She doesn’t need to listen to you.”
“My—” Momma drew herself to the top of her four-and-a-half
feet, but then she tilted her head. “Who is your mother?”
“Momma,” Romeo cut in, “Donata Vocelli.” Momma recoiled.
Romeo took her arm. “Donata, I’m sorry. We’ll go outside. Tell
Julian—”
“Where is Julian?” asked a new voice. A tall distinguished man, a
tall, fashionable woman—Romeo blinked and realized they must be
Donata’s parents.
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“Arenza Lovato,” Romeo’s mother said and his heart sank even
further. He’d heard that name. Once his mother’s best friend—
“It’s Vocelli now, Lavinia. For the last thirty years.” The woman
turned to Donata. “Darling, is she awake?”
“Sleeping, Mother.” Donata kissed her parents. “And I want to
know too—” she turned to Romeo, “—where is Julian?”