Henry's End (27 page)

“You’re not involved with this side of things?” he asked.

Seth laughed, “Oh please, I’m involved with everything.”

“Well, maybe you could be involved with this.”

Rarely at a loss for words, Seth sat there with his mouth hanging open. The man whose picture he had been staring at for days wanted him to personally help out.

“Would you be more comfortable if I was?” Seth wanted so badly to hear him say it.

“Yes, I would.”

Henry was direct and didn’t beat around the bush. Seth found that very attractive.

“Then consider it done.”

“Great.” There was relief in his voice.

“And, Henry…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t feel bad about not being here with us. You’ll have so much contact with Schooner and Yoli for the operations piece and the MS&A staff for the marketing and advertising, you’ll forget that we’re not just down the hall.”

“Hmm,” he paused, “I don’t think I’ll be forgetting that you’re not near.”

Is he talking business? What exactly is going on here?

“Let me give you some numbers to reach me. Don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions about anything.” Seth gave him his cell and home numbers.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Henry was talking to someone at L9. “Hey Seth, I need to go put out a fire. Thanks for walking me through this and for helping to get it all set up.”

“Anytime,” he was trying not to sound sad that the conversation was ending.

Henry laughed, “You just gave me your personal numbers so you probably shouldn’t be telling me anytime.”

“Like I said, anytime,” Seth reiterated.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” And he was gone.

You do that.
But Seth’s gut told him Henry would keep it just a business relationship, and he’d only hear from him here in the office.

Later in the evening, as he sat on the deck off the back of his brownstone in Brooklyn Heights, Seth stared off into the night, his eyes trained on the Manhattan skyline and the newly erected Freedom Tower. Although, that’s not what he was seeing. In his mind’s eye, he was seeing the man he’d met almost two weeks before at Schooner and Mia’s wedding and he was hearing something he had recently told Mia.

He wanted to find his Schooner. He was ready.

We have been through so much, but we came through it. And here you are, about to marry your true love, a guy who came back for you because he was as broken without you as you were without him. He stayed married to someone he didn’t love because he didn’t want to feel, and you almost drove yourself over the edge trying to feel, something, anything. But I have to tell you, you two are not broken when you are together. You complement each other’s strengths and fill in the gaps of each other’s weaknesses. You guys dream together and then turn it into reality. I know what I want now, Mia. I want to find the other half of me. My Schooner.

Swirling the dark ruby colored cabernet around his wine glass, he wondered did Henry just show up at a time when he was vulnerable and lonely? Or was it some divine providence that he was finally ready, after all these years, to change his priorities and build a future with that special someone, and this enigmatic man just appeared out of the blue?

Finishing off the robust, oaky wine in his glass, he decided that it wasn’t Henry Clark – he was ready, that was the bottom line. He was finally ready to settle into a real relationship of his own, and Henry was just a handsome man who had shown up on an extremely emotional day when he was literally giving away his best friend.

It could have been anyone who showed up that day,
he told himself. It just happened to be Henry. And he was hot and gay.

Picking up the wine bottle, he refilled his glass. For years, friends, business acquaintances, mothers of friends, had always tried to set him up. There were a few men in his life, who were just close friends, that he could count on when he needed a ‘date’ for a function. But there had been no one special, no one that made him look at his phone, and will it to ring, as he’d been doing for days.

It’s time to put the word out that I’m looking,
he decided.
Finally
. People will be shocked and happy, he mused and most would attribute it to losing his best friend to marriage. The truth was, Mia and Schooner had been back together for a while now, so it wasn’t their marriage precipitating this – it was the relationship that made them decide to finally marry. And
that
is what he wanted.

Picking up his cellphone off the small wrought iron table next to him, he looked at his darkened phone. Henry now had his cell number and he knew his phone’s silence was going to drive him insane.

Why didn’t I get his number?
He shook his head.
I’m out of practice.

He began to loathe his silent phone as the next few days passed, looking at it obsessively, as if it were a mute jailer, refusing to use the key to free him from exile.

It was 4:12 A.M. three nights and three very long, pissy, moody days later, when the sound of a text coming through woke him.

Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed his cell and glasses. Area code (619) and a number. No name was attached to the contact record. It wasn’t anyone in his address book.

Smiling, he reread the single word message a few times.

Anytime

He now had his number. Sitting up in bed, he smiled at the phone, his wonderful hope-bearing phone. It was 1:12 A.M. in San Diego and Henry Clark was thinking about him. He was awake and thinking of him three days later. That was a damn good sign.

Sleep
was Seth’s one word response.

H: Sorry. I woke you.

Seth smiled at the message. There was only one answer for that.
Anytime

H: ☺

Shocked that his heart could actually be soaring over receiving a smiley face, snarky, sarcastic Seth Shapiro was certain he would wake up in a few hours to his alarm, check his horrible, little tease of a phone and find no trace of the conversation. If he’d dreamed this, he was going to be super pissed-off.

H: Seth

S: Yes

H: I’m sorry I woke you

S: I’m not

H: You’re not?

S: No.

H: I’m smiling

S: Me too

H: Call tomorrow?

S: Yeah. Night Henry

H: Night Seth

This had better be on my phone in the morning
, Seth rolled back over. Smiling to himself as he settled back into his pillows,
who knew this could happen - anytime?

Henry Clark liked to text.
That was Seth’s observation and he was OK with it. As long as the communication kept going, he didn’t care what medium was used, he felt like the door was finally open – and he wanted to ram through it and knock it down.

H: Hey, if you talk to Schooner, can you find out if he can come out during the photoshoot?

S: Oh, please, I have not spoken to either one of them since they left on their Robinson Crusoe adventure.

H: LOL. Well, if you do get a chance, tell him if he comes out, I’d like to throw a birthday party for Edwin.

Edwin? Who the fuck is Edwin?
Seth’s mood took an immediate nosedive.
And how could I ever be jealous of someone with the unfortunate name of Edwin?

S: If I hear from them, I’ll ask.

Figuring Schooner and Mia would eventually hit a port and texts would come through, Seth left Mia a message.
Who the fuck is Edwin?

Seven hours later, as he was wrapping up for the day, his cell buzzed.
Henry’s Edwin?

His heart sank. Henry’s Edwin.

S: Yes.

M: Schooner is laughing. He said it’s you in 30 years.

S: Fuck you, both. What the hell does that mean?

M: He says you’ll love Edwin and that you are Edwin.

S: BBC, I’m getting pissed off. Who is Edwin? Is it Henry’s lover?

The texts went silent and he thought if they sailed out of port without telling him, he was going to go out of his mind.
You are Edwin? What the hell was that supposed to mean? What the fuck was Schooner talking about?

He jumped when the phone in his hand rang and the avatar with Mia’s mischievous smile was shining back at him.

“BBC.”

“Oh my God, Princess, I have missed you. We’re almost home, we’re just north of the Cape,” Mia’s voice crackled in the poor connection, “and I’m picking up cell signal from there.”

“Thank God. Enough of this honeymoon crap. Come home now.”

“How are my babies? Have you seen them? They were asleep when I last called.”

“I saw them last night on the way home. They are fine. Running your parents ragged.”

“That makes me feel better.” Mia sounded relieved.

“Now who the hell is Edwin?” Seth had enough of the chit-chat. His heart had been hanging out on a street corner for two weeks.

“Let me put Schooner on.”

“Hey Seth,” the familiar voice sounded concerned. “What’s going on with Edwin? Is everything OK?”

“Yes, Henry wants to make him a birthday party and wants you to come out for it when we’re out there doing a brochure photo shoot.”

“Excellent. I’ll check my calendar when we get back.”

“Schooner, who is Edwin? Is that Henry’s partner?”

Through the crackling static, he could hear Schooner’s laugh. “Edwin? No. But he is an amazing friend. He’s been to Henry what you are to Mia. And I never thought about it before, but you could be Edwin’s spawn.” He could hear Mia saying she needed to meet him.

“Is he involved with anyone?” These people were pissing him off. He needed answers.

“Edwin?”

“No, not Edwin. Henry.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. “No. Not that I know of.” Schooner’s demeanor immediately changed.

“So, you’re just going to leave me hanging there?”

“Seth, it’s not my story to tell.”

Feeling his throat closing, he knew Schooner was right. If he and Henry Clark were meant to be – as colleagues, friends or lovers – then those stories would be revealed as part of their trust.

“OK, I understand. Just answer me one question.”

“I’ll try,” Schooner promised.

“Will this guy break my heart?” Feeling incredibly vulnerable, his best friend’s husband was one of the few people on the planet with whom he could be so honest and now he’d just admitted his interest in his friend.

“I don’t know the answer to that, Seth. All I can tell you is that he is a great guy, as are you.”

And the line went dead.

“Seth Shapiro, as I live and breathe.” Scott Hoover looked up from his camera perched on a tripod in the entranceway of L9/Carlsbad. “Has the island of Manhattan crumbled into the sea?” Scott pulled a lens out of the pocket of his cargo shorts and swapped it out with the lens on the front of the camera body, before walking down the path to greet Seth with a warm hug.

Dressed in a dark gray Dolce & Gabbana suit and claret red tie, Seth looked as if he might be part of the shoot if they’d been doing a piece for corporate investors.

“Just helping out the new guy,” Seth tried to make light of showing up for a shoot outside of Manhattan, something he never did.

“Quite magnanimous of you.” Scott was quickly catching on to exactly why Seth was in southern California.