Chiaroscuro (7 page)

"Everything's good here," Ben said, "but the muffins are probably the cure for what ails ya. The blueberry is a particular favorite," he said to the guy in the sunglasses, who smiled in an uncertain, wincing sort of way. "And we've got coffee."

"Coffee, yes," the guy said in the tone of someone who's just been offered the secret to inner peace, and Ben paused a moment. That voice--he knew that voice. From where?

"Let me get that together while you're deciding," he said with a laugh. "Just coffee, black?"

"I want room for cream in mine," the kid piped up.

"Sorry, Ben, I've been neglectful: these are my friends Jamie and Micah." Dune put his arm around the blond guy's shoulders. "And black coffee is exactly what Jamie needs. Not so sure you should have any, Micah--it might stunt your growth."

The kid scowled at him--not in a mocking way, either, more as if he were really angry. Interesting. Dune paid it no mind, though. He was busy studying the display case, his hand still absently rubbing the back of the blond guy's neck. Jamie.

Ben handed over two coffee cups, one with room for cream. "Dune?"

"More of the same, please. And I think we should all try the blueberry muffins. Though I suppose this little chippy here would prefer something sweet."

"I'm not a chippy," the kid muttered and took his cup to the sideboard where they had sugar, honey and cream.

"Lay off him, please," Jamie said to Dune and took his own coffee cup. "Ta," he said to Ben.

Ben nearly dropped Dune's coffee cup as the pieces fell into place--how he knew that voice, how he knew that this guy's mouth tasted like rain and his skin smelled like the sea.

Jamie. His name is Jamie.

"Y'okay, there, Ben?" Dune said and Ben set his cup on the counter.

"Yeah--um--" He looked at Jamie, wondering if he remembered too. Jamie sipped his coffee, face unreadable because of the sunglasses.

The kid came back from fixing his coffee and stood close to Jamie, blue eyes darting from Ben to Dune and back behind thick glasses. Okay. There was some weird dynamic going on here and Ben had no idea what it meant.

"Do you want the muffins to stay or to go?" he asked.

"To stay," said Dune.

"To go," said Micah at the same time.

Jamie shrugged when both of them looked to him to make the final decision "Let's stay. I'd like to sit down."

Ben put the muffins on a tray and handed it over, and Dune paid and took the tray to one of the small tables they had set up in front of the display window. Ben watched them as he rang the transaction, still puzzling. Dune had said he wasn't dating anyone, but he sat next to Jamie at the table and the kid looked unhappy to be forced to the other side. Jamie didn't seem to care one way or the other, just drinking his coffee as slowly as an old man.

Another customer came in for doughnuts, and when Ben looked back at the table the only visible change was that Jamie had taken off his sunglasses.

Ben grabbed a business card and wrote his name and phone number on the back, and waited for a chance to slip it to Jamie. If one didn't arrive, he'd just have create it.

He wasn't going to let this one get away again.

***

Micah was pouting. Normally Jamie would be kissing and cuddling that pout away, but there was no chance for that in public, and he doubted mere kisses would fix whatever had upset Micah anyway. Most of his sympathy was directed at himself at the moment: Micah had tried to keep him hydrated but his hangover was still persistent.

The only reason he was upright at the moment was Dune. He would have been content to let Micah make him pancakes and coddle his hangover at home, but Dune had insisted on going out, that the morning air would be good for him, and that sulking over the layoffs would help no one.

So. Upright. With coffee and an incredible blueberry muffin--and the bloke from the wedding behind the counter, trying not to look like he was watching them.

"You're not going to have to go back to England, are you?" Dune was saying.

"Er--no," Jamie said, refocusing. "I've got permanent residency--it's not dependent on having a job."

"So you can do whatever, basically."

"I suppose so, except, y'know, the eating and having a place to live and all."

"We're working on that. I think you're looking at a great opportunity: you've had one job the whole time you've been in this country, devoted most of your time and energy to it, and now you have to find something else. So what do you want to do?"

Jamie rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I haven't really thought about that. I…" He looked around the bakery thoughtfully--the bloke behind the counter was cleaning the coffee bean grinder and still pretending not to be listening to them.

"I think you ought to refocus on your real passion," Dune said.

He looked at Micah, who was eating his muffin and still pouting prettily. "No one's going to pay me to have sex, I'm afraid."

"I mean art, perv."

He raised his eyebrows at Dune, surprised. "Art."

"Painting. Sketching. Whatever else you do, I'm sure there's a lot to it I don't know about. Art."

"Art," Jamie repeated, shaking his head. "Do you know how hard it is to make a living as an artist, particularly a young unknown?"

"Do you know how hard it is to accomplish something that you never try?" Dune countered.

"My parents want me to go to college," Micah announced.

Dune nodded. "There. You see? Accomplishments. Micah will get his degree and become an even more marketable commodity. The rest of your department will find other jobs in other companies doing the same thing, and that's fine, that's them. But you could be so much more, Jamie--I really believe that. You have so much more potential than just designing video game boxes."

"I did a lot more than designing video game boxes," Jamie said.

"That's just a for-instance. You've never stopped painting, have you?"

"No," Jamie muttered, "but--"

"So you ought to do what makes you happy."

Jamie sighed, gave a pleading look to Micah. "What would make me happy right now is to stop talking about this, please. I've got money to live on until I find a new job, and I'll have more if I sell the house, and I really don't want to make up my mind about this today." Under the table Micah's foot lightly touched his, and he smiled at him with relief.

"Just promise me you're not going to wallow," said Dune.

"I'm not going to wallow." He kept his gaze fixed on Micah's, making an entirely different kind of promise. Micah smiled slowly and his foot rubbed Jamie's.

Dune didn't miss this, and sighed. "Right. I'm going to get some of these to go--Ben's right, they're really good."

Ben, Jamie thought, glancing once more at him. He was helping another customer buy a loaf of sourdough bread, his smile easy and freely given. Jamie thought, He doesn't remember me.

"I want some too, I think," he said, standing, and followed Dune to the counter.

"And what," said Ben when it was their turn, "could I possibly do for you?"

"Half a dozen muffins," Dune said. "How about one each?"

"Easy." He packed a bag of muffins quickly and gave it to Dune, and smiled again at Jamie. "And you?"

"Just two, I think--the apple cinnamon looks good, and one chocolate-chocolate chip." He leaned his hip against the counter and added, "I like this place. It's a family business, yeah?"

"Yup." He was much slower getting Jamie's order together than he had been Dune's. "Over a hundred and fifty years. You can tell by the established date on the door."

Jamie smiled and gave him a five to pay for the muffins. "I'll pay closer attention to doors from now on."

"They're very helpful creatures, doors." He gave Jamie his change. "You're set, then. Come again anytime."

"I will," he said, turning to leave, and nearly ran into Micah. The boy was pouting again, his face stormy as he looked at Ben, and he left the bakery a few steps ahead of Jamie and without a word.

"See you soon, Ben," Dune called and joined Jamie and Micah on the sidewalk. "Nice place, don't you think?"

"I don't like that guy," Micah said.

"Oh? Why not?" Dune took out one of the muffins and bit into it as they walked to Jamie's car.

"He's--smug."

"If I were that gorgeous, I'd be smug too."

"You are that gorgeous," Jamie said, nudging him with his elbow, and when Micah's face threatened to become downright thunderous he put an arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. "And so are you, wee Micah."

Micah's nostrils flared and he looked urgently at Dune. "Jamie!"

"Your attempts at being territorial gave it away," Dune said. "In the future, it's best to do more than stand close to someone and look annoyed if you want people to know they're coming on to your boyfriend."

"We're not boyfriends," Micah muttered.

Jamie said nothing, getting his keys out of his pocket, and wondered exactly what they were. He remembered vaguely saying something about love the night before...but Micah knew him well enough by now to know not to take anything he said while drunk seriously. Didn't he?

"Hold his hand, put your arm around him, that sort of thing. Much more effective than threatening looks. The first step to admitting you're dating someone is to admit you're dating them."

"You're weird, Dune."

"So I've heard." He climbed into the back seat and Jamie gave Micah the keys.

"Drive us? My head still hurts."

"'Kay. Do you want home, Dune, or back to Jamie's?"

"Back to Jamie's. My car is still there."

"Oh, yeah." Micah got into the driver's seat and Jamie climbed into the passenger seat beside him. He leaned back his head as the car rumbled to life and settled in comfortably for the ride home.

He felt a tentative touch of fingers to his hand, and grasped them lightly. A hand that still seemed too big for the body it belonged to--slender fingers with bitten-off nails--he smiled. This, he thought, is how it's done.

***

"That guy wanted you," Micah said when they were alone. "I could tell."

"You're imagining things," Jamie said as he hung up his sweatshirt. "He was just being friendly."

"I've been checked out enough to know it when I see it." He held Jamie's slipped his arms around Jamie's waist and kissed him. "But you're mine now."

Jamie nodded solemnly. "Right. You've got the key to the handcuffs."

"Jamie. How much do you remember of last night?"

He shrugged and pulled Micah by both hands to the bed so he could lie down. "I remember we got laid off, the whole lot of us. I think there was disco at some point. Cuddle me."

Micah wrapped his arms around Jamie's chest and kissed his forehead. "You--you don't remember what you said."

"I remember I said Phil needed to kiss my ass goodbye."

"In the car you said--oh, never mind." He sighed. "When you've got a job again you should really get some furniture for downstairs."

"When I've got a job again, I will. Hopefully it'll be a job that won't eat up all my time and energy like this one." He looked at Micah. "Are you really going to go to school?"

"I think so. My folks are right: it's hard to get anywhere in this world without a degree, no matter what you actually know. So I'll get a degree."

"Somewhere in the city, yeah?"

"They want me to go to Stanford, since that's where they went. I'll apply to UCSF and San Francisco State. I'll apply to other places, too. I don't want to limit my chances."

"Nonsense." He traced his thumb over Micah's chest. "Any place would be thrilled to have you."

Micah blushed and muttered, "Thanks," and snuggled his head into the crook of Jamie's neck. "I'd love to go to school here--live with you--we'll see." He kissed Jamie's neck. "Maybe--maybe Dune's right."

"He is with frightening regularity, the bastard. About what?"

"About you painting. Being an artist. You're happy when you're making art--if you could do that for a living--"

"Selling seascapes at boot sales? No, thank you."

"There's other ways. Galleries. Um. I don't really know much about it but I know there are people who do. I mean, it's not impossible. Right?"

Jamie sighed and combed his fingers through Micah's hair. "It's not impossible," he said. "It's just--"

"Scary," Micah leaned on his elbow so he could look into Jamie's face. "It's scary. I know. I know from scary." He smiled and leaned down to rub Jamie's nose with his. "I believe in you."

Jamie closed his eyes, deeply touched, and held Micah's face in both hands to kiss him.

***

When Jamie found the business card in the muffin bag, with 'Ben Gallagher, call me anytime,' and a phone number scribbled on the back, he almost threw it away.

He kept it.

Chapter Four

It happened fast. Jamie's house was sold as soon as he put it on the market, and while his resume got a few polite responses there were no offers. The more Jamie thought about it, though, the more it seemed to him that Dune was right: this was not the time for doing more of the same. This was the time for pursuing something he really wanted to do. It was time to chase his dream.

"I've got to be practical, though," he said to Dune as they packed his clothes. "I have to do something to pay the bills until my paintings start selling."

"I like the freelance design business idea."

"So do I," Jamie said, nodding. "I think I'll like doing that. And it's an extension of the fine arts thing, yeah? The art will be for me and the design will be for the clients."

"Sounds like a formula for success to me." Dune folded a sweater and asked casually, "Did I tell you I submitted a column to the paper?"

"No! Are they going to publish it?"

"I won't know until next week. The waiting is making me nuts. But they've wanted a local lifestyle columnist for a while and nobody who's submitted so far has been quite right, so they're considering in-house."

"I've always thought you were a good writer."

"Thanks. If the editors think so too, I'm in." He laughed. "And who knows, maybe now I'll write that novel, too. A gay man's coming-of-age story, maybe. Little Johnny gets his heart broken and learns to be a man."