A Kind of Romance (31 page)

We shared a potent look of silent acknowledgment. It was too fragile to quantify, but it somehow felt… healing. We were going to be okay.

A banging noise on the back door broke the spell.

“That should be Filipe,” Dad said as he struggled to stand.

“I’ll let him in. I have to get to work.” I wiped at the corner of my eye and then set my mug in the sink and headed for the back door.

“You want a bagel for the road? I’ll bet you haven’t eaten, and that’s no way to start your day. I’ll make your favor—”

“No, thanks. I—Dad?”

“Yes?”

“I’m… sorry, Dad. I forgive you. And I’m sorry. Very sorry.”

He cocked his head and stared at me intently as though he hadn’t heard me correctly. I shoved my arms into my coat and looked away and then back at him. A single tear ran unchecked down his cheek. And then he smiled.

It was the kind of smile I’d treasured as a kid. It was full of compassion, affection, and love. In one fell swoop, it stripped away years of misunderstanding. I could imagine I was my ten-year-old self, staring up at my larger-than-life father in admiration, thinking I wanted to be just like him one day. I could forget the many years in between when adoration became hurt and fear. I could forget that I’d done my best to create a life that in no way resembled my upbringing or the man I’d once admired. In that moment, I let go and finally accepted that my father was human with the same faults that plagued us all. He’d wanted more than he was entitled to at one time. He’d caused pain and his fair share of anguish, but he was man enough to admit he’d been wrong.

It occurred to me I would be very fortunate to be just like him.

“I love you, Pops.”

When he held his arms open in invitation, I didn’t hesitate to finally close the distance between us and hug my father tightly. Years of frustration and anger melted away. And the heavy burden I’d carried for more than half my life seemed to shift and slip from my shoulders. Maybe it was temporary release, or maybe we’d begun a new chapter. What I did know was that even though my life was still a fucking mess, I felt better than I had in days. I felt renewed somehow. And hopeful.

BY FRIDAY,
I was starting to lose hope. And when Abe told me Benny had asked to be taken off the schedule unless he was needed, I could only think that couldn’t be good. He was erasing me from his life. I couldn’t let him go without a fight, but I needed help locating him. The guy who’d once been ubiquitous was suddenly very hard to pin down.

I stopped by Johnny’s a couple times when every phone call and text had gone unanswered. His cousins gave me wary glances, but his mother took my messages with a quiet encouragement that made me think she was on my side. But what the fuck did I know? When she mentioned she saw him with William and Rand earlier that day, I thought she was giving me a clue. Then again, it might have been wishful thinking. Once upon a time, I’d been good at reading signals. Now… not so much.

ASKING MY
former faux boyfriend’s friends for a tip on how to reach him was reminiscent of something I might have done in high school, if I’d been that kind of guy. I wasn’t. Surely, I’d reached an unprecedented new low, I mused as I pushed open the lobby door to Rand and William’s modern Tribeca building. A friendly doorman with blond, spiky hair waved me toward the sleek bank of elevators with a wide grin. He reminded me of an artsy bartender at one of my favorite East Village bars who seemed to effortlessly straddle the line between uber-hip and boy next door.

“Floor fifteen, sir. Have a great night!” I tried to return the smile, but it was more of a weak upturn of lips.

The strains of an acoustic guitar greeted me through an open door. I followed the sound down the short hallway to 1505 and knocked twice before peering inside the ultrachic condo.

“Hey, come on in!” Rand rounded the small foyer dressed in worn jeans with frayed holes in the knees, carrying a beautiful dark guitar in one hand. He motioned for me to enter and then closed the door behind me. “Thanks for coming over. It’s gotten weird lately. I can walk anywhere in the city, but the second I take a seat in a coffee shop, I’m surrounded. I’ve been told to enjoy the love while it lasts, but that it’s best to lie low to avoid getting mauled. I want to say it’s cool, but honestly, it’s exhausting. What can I get you?”

He led the way through a great room to the kitchen beyond. I took a seat at one of the modern, black leather barstools at the island and surveyed the generous space. It was a gorgeous contemporary condo with high ceilings, hardwood flooring, and an impressive view of the Hudson River from a large bank of windows at the far end. The furniture was dark, sleek, and modern. Splashes of reds and blues popped up on area rugs, throw pillows, and one lone cobalt egg-shaped chair situated next to a baby grand piano and a wall of hanging guitars in every color of the rainbow. No one would be surprised to know this was the home of a budding rock star and his musician boyfriend.

I tuned in to Rand’s enthusiastic tone. “Water, soda, juice, tonic, wine, beer, vodka, gin, tequila… or any variation of the above. What’ll it be?”

“Um… water’s fine.”

He made a face but gamely poured a glass of water and set it in front of me. Then he turned around and came back with a couple of shot glasses and a bottle of Patrón.

“We don’t have any limes, but we’ll make do,” he announced with a wicked grin as he poured tequila into the tiny glasses.

Tequila and I had a spotty history, but I didn’t have it in me to refuse. I tapped my glass against his before swallowing the shot. I shivered involuntarily as the strong liquor spread through my veins like wildfire. Rand chuckled heartily. When he picked up the bottle to refill my glass, I covered the top and shook my head.

“Give me a minute.”

Rand winked, then gave me an expectant look. “Will should be home in a sec. If you’d rather wait for him, I won’t be offended. I’m no good at giving advice.”

“What makes you think I need advice?”

“Hmm. That’s a tough one, Zeke,” he commented sarcastically. “Let’s see… for starters, you look like hell. Your coloring is off, you have bags under your eyes, and your tie is messed up. The tie might be an ‘end of day slob’ look for most guys, but not you. You’re always put together. And let’s be real… the fact you called
me
speaks to a level of desperation I don’t associate with any of the Guldens. But especially not you. What’s up?”

I let out a deep sigh and leaned heavily on my elbow. “I was hoping to talk to William. I—”

Rand grinned. “I don’t blame you. All I’d tell you is to get your head out of your ass and make something happen. He’ll say the same thing, but he’ll be nicer about it.”

I gave a weak laugh and shrugged. “This is awkward. I keep forgetting you’re a rock star now and not one of guys from Bowery Bagels.”

Rand’s smile lit his handsome features beautifully. He was one of those guys who was blessed with high cheekbones, full lips, and a hot body, but everything truly sexy about him was innate. He embodied fierce sensuality. The way he moved, spoke, laughed, danced, or even casually leaned against the island made you want to pay close attention. It really was no surprise his band had taken off so fast. Rand was the kind of rock-and-roll front man who came around once in a generation. He was the twenty-first century’s answer to Mick Jagger, Jim Morrison, and Bono. Except he was better-looking than any of them.

“I’ll always be one of the Bowery boys, according to George.”

“Then I suppose we have bagels in common.”

Rand chuckled. “True. And Benny.”

“Right. Look, this is weird, and I didn’t mean for it to be. I figured we’d meet for a casual beer and I’d convince you to sweet talk William into putting in a good word for me or—I was hoping you might know how to reach him.”

Rand stared at me for a long moment, then smiled kindly. “I assume we’re talking about location versus psychoanalysis.”

“Yeah, but at this point I’m open to both. I have things to say but—I just need to see him.”

“Will’s on his way home now. Maybe he can give you exact coordinates,” he commented idly. “But I think you’ve got the right idea.”

“About what exactly? Stalking and general harassment, or continuing to look and act like a fool?”

“All of the above, man. The crazier, the better. You’re talking about a guy who’s dyed his hair three different colors this week alone. He’s not ordinary, Zeke. Benny’s fabulous. Treat him like you know it. The rest will fall into place. He likes wacky things and wacky people.”

We both turned at sound of the front door opening. I watched in fascination as Rand’s eyes took on a starry-eyed look of a man in love as William walked into the kitchen. He greeted me with a friendly smile and a pat on the back before moving to the other side of the island to slip his arm around Rand’s waist. I glanced away to give them a moment. I felt horribly self-conscious suddenly. As much as I needed help, I wasn’t sure this was a good idea.

“Who likes wacky people?” William asked as he poured himself a glass of water.

“Benny.” Rand scooped up William’s glass and raised his eyebrows mischievously before taking a drink and then handing the half-empty glass back to his boyfriend.

“And me, I guess. You’re an overgrown kid, O’Malley,” William huffed without heat. He jumped in surprise when Rand wrapped him in a tight hold and kissed his cheek sloppily.

I chuckled at their antics as I stood and picked up my coat. “I should go. I—”

“He’s at Johnny’s,” William said in a deceptively casual tone.

I licked my lips and nodded as I slipped my arm through my sleeve.

“Leaving so soon? I must be better at this advice stuff than I thought I was,” Rand quipped as I darted for the door.

“You are. Thanks, I got it now.”

“You’re sure? We can always….”

I was already out the door and racing for the elevator.

DESPERATION MOVED
me to act without thought. And that alone was out of the ordinary. I pulled my coat around me as I exited the Mercedes and glanced at the old-fashioned neon sign on the restaurant window.

“Should I stay or do you wanna call and—”

I turned back to the car and shook my head at my concerned employee. “No. I’ll get myself home. Thanks, Hector.”

I waved, brushing off his “good luck” with a confident smile that faded before he put his foot on the gas. I took a deep breath and glanced up and down the street. The sidewalk was crowded with the typical Friday rush of people anxious to get home and get a start on the weekend. I sidestepped a woman carrying two large shopping bags and bumped into a street vendor’s cart, the kind that sold anything from newspapers to water or gum. I made an impulse purchase that seemed to fit my desperate state of mind and then marched toward the entrance of Johnny’s and pushed open the door with purpose.

It was warm inside. And crowded. Dean Martin’s “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head” was playing in the background, but honestly, it was hard to hear above the din of conversation. Every table was occupied, and there was a line at the door and a few people outside. I backed up a step and collided with the hostess, Benny’s cousin Ella.

“Hi there, handsome. You’re back! He’s here, but it’s packed tonight. Let me seat these folks, then I’ll let him know you’re waiting.” She gave me a bright smile before turning to the couple standing next to the podium.

I scanned the small space, hoping to get a glimpse of Benny before he spotted me. His cousin Joey was waiting a table near the back. Another cousin whose name I couldn’t remember was near the front. But there was no sign of Benny.

Ella was back sooner than expected. “He’ll meet you out front in a minute.”

I gave her a short nod, then shoved my hands in my pockets and pushed my way back outdoors.

I gulped in the fresh air like a fish out of water. I glanced at the gaggle of twentysomethings leaning against the brick facade and at the couple staring longingly at each other nearby but found no inspiration. I wished I could know what he needed without him having to say a word. I wanted to get this right. I wanted him to look at me in awe and say, “That’s it!” We’d laugh at my perfect timing and my crazy insight. And then we’d forget everything but us.

It was a nice fantasy but highly unrealistic. Real life was hard. You had to be strong when you felt weak. You had to be brave when—

“Zeke?”

My breath caught in my chest as I turned toward the door. And there he was… the bravest man I knew. He looked gorgeous in his black-and-white waiter ensemble and blue highlights in his bangs. But he didn’t necessarily look happy to see me.

“Hi. Uh… I was in the neighborhood.”

He folded his arms over his chest and moved toward me. “I can’t really talk now. It’s busy tonight. Angie is supposed to relieve me soon but… she’s late.”

“Okay. I… I have something to say. Just—listen, okay?” When he inclined his head, I took a deep breath and then let it out in a rush. “I’m sorry, Benny.”

“Zeke—”

“Please. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’d give anything to take back that night and do it over. I would have said the things I’d been thinking on the way to that restaurant. I would have told you how beautiful you are to me. I would have told you I’m head over heels in love with you. I would have told you I thought we should be honest about who we are, but I wasn’t brave enough. The words wouldn’t come. And when they did… they didn’t sound right. I’m not… like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I always thought courageous people showed up ready to take names and kick ass. They didn’t let anyone harm them or those they care about the most.” I bit my lip and cocked my head. “I wasn’t paying attention to subtler kinds of bravery. Like boys with blue hair and pink shirts. Or forgiveness. You were right… sometimes getting even isn’t nearly as satisfying as letting go.”

“Of what?”

“Anger, frustration, the past. Or anything that keeps me from you.”

“Zeke—”

“I’m crazy about you, Ben. And honestly, I might actually be
going
crazy. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. My concentration is off. I know what the problem is, and I think I may even have the solution. But I gotta find a way to convince you that…”