Empty Nests (14 page)

Harry gave a small laugh, looking a little less embarrassed. “I’ll keep that in mind. Is Dad really going to try to talk to me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s going to be so embarrassing.”

Gabe sat on the edge of Harry’s bed, which was still draped in an
X-Men
blanket.

“Look, when you’re the eldest and only son in a Mexican Catholic family, you don’t get to be gay. It’s not an option. When my mother found out, she threw a fit. Screamed at me, cried for three days, sent me to our priest. If embarrassment is your biggest worry, you’re doing it the easy way. Your parents love you no matter what. My mother says a rosary twice a day for my soul.”

Harry stared at him. Gabe didn’t talk much about his family or childhood with Harry and Sarah. There didn’t seem much point to it.

“What about your dad?” he asked quietly.

“My dad?” Gabe rubbed at his face. “My dad was… odd. My mother was standing there in my room, screaming at me, and he just stood there and looked at me for the longest time. And I was bracing myself. I’d convinced myself he was going to throw me out, yell, maybe even take a swing at me. Then my mother stopped for breath, and he touched my face and gave me a hug. He said
hijo mío
, my son. Then told me to make sure my homework was done before dinner.”

“That was it?”

“That was it. We’ve never talked about it, but I figure maybe it’s best to leave some things alone.”

They both fell silent. Gabe did his best not to dwell on those times. He knew he should thank his father for not living down to expectation, for acting as a buffer between him and his mother all these years, but his father had never been much for talking.

Gabe slapped his thighs. “So…. Okay… I’m here if you need to talk. Don’t do anything stupid. And… don’t underestimate people. A lot of times they are what they are, but every once in a while, they can step up and really surprise you.”

G
ABE
FLOPPED
onto the living room couch and stared at Margaret and Nate. They were on the love seat cuddled together. Gabe was envious. As the guys liked to point out, he wasn’t getting any younger, and bed-hopping was a game for the young. Not that he was even doing much of that anymore. He tried to recall the last time he’d had someone he could cuddle with on a love seat without there being pressure for it to become something more by the end of the night. The memory he came across was old and sour, and he quickly shoved it away.

“First off, we are square for the Comic-Con incident. Okay? That debt is paid in full.”

“Okay. What did Harry say?”

“That he’s not sure yet but probably. I gave him the standard ‘don’t have unsafe sex and avoid Internet weirdos’ speech. He’ll be fine. And I told him he could call me whenever.”

Margaret turned to her husband. “I told you.” She turned back to Gabe. “Now, what did you want advice on?”

It was Gabe’s turn to be uncomfortable. “Um…. You two…. You still have a good relationship, romantic, I mean?”

They looked at each other. “On the odd occasion when we can get rid of the children, my dear husband has been known to provide flowers.”

“Flowers, right.”

“Gabriel.” Margaret drew out his name, giving it a hint of British trill. “Are you asking us for romantic advice?”

Gabe closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was blushing, but he could feel the overall embarrassment level creep up. He couldn’t believe he was even asking, but he’d gone over his plans so many times, he couldn’t tell if they were good anymore.

“Well, I’m not going to ask Frank.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t sealed the deal with this James guy yet?” Nate asked.

Now Gabe knew he was blushing. “Oh, shut up.”

“Oh no, I’m amused. There’s someone out there who hasn’t fallen for your ‘I’m a filthy rich, hot Latin lover, want to shag?’ line.”

“First off, I have never used that line. Secondly, shag? Hanging out with your in-laws again?”

“Nate, leave him be.” Margaret peered at Gabe, giving him the type of scrutiny that only a mother could really manage. “Have you tried and failed, or just haven’t tried?”

“I… I haven’t tried. He’s the best thing to come my way in a while, and he deserves better than my usual flaky ‘Hey, want to shag?’ lines.”

Nate made a cutesy face. “That’s so sweet.”

“Okay, you know what—”

Gabe started to stand.

“Gabriel, sit down.”

Gabe sat back down but perched on the edge of the sofa.

“I guess the first question is what is he used to so you can do something different?”

“Nothing. He’s thirty-two, and he’s never had an adult relationship because he’s been too busy raising his son solo.” He didn’t mention that James was basically a virgin.

Margaret made the kind of face she usually reserved for puppies.

Nate grinned. “In that case, it doesn’t matter what you do. He won’t know the difference.” That comment earned him a solid shove from his wife.

“Ignore my husband. If he hasn’t had a relationship, he’s probably nervous and unsure about the whole thing. You want to keep it romantic but relaxed. You don’t need a live string quartet and a catered meal. You’ve got a perfectly nice place. Some candles, some flowers, something relaxing on the sound system. Cook him dinner, but you don’t have to go overboard with it. Not too much alcohol. You don’t want him to regret anything in the morning.”

“I can’t cook.”

“You cook just fine, you just don’t. Get some recipes off your sister. You want to show him who you are at home, what it is he might really be getting, but mostly keep it relaxed.”

“Relaxed.” Gabe took a deep breath. “I can do relaxed.” He was pretty sure he could do relaxed. He had some vague memories of what relaxed was.

“You’ll be fine. If nothing else you’re a filthy rich, hot Latin lover. That should get you halfway right there.”

J
AMES
WAS
wedged under a desk trying to untangle about twenty different cables when his phone rang. He managed to fish it out of his pocket and shove it between his shoulder and ear without looking at the screen.

“Hello.” He cringed at his own voice, which sounded more than a little cranky.

“Hey, it’s me. Is this a bad time?”

Gabe’s voice gave James a little happy flash, but it wasn’t enough to overwhelm the pre-existing bad mood. “No. I’m just wedged under a desk, desperately wishing there was some universal standard of color coding for different kinds of cables. I mean, why in the hell do they all have to be black, white, or gray? What’s wrong with red, or green, or fuchsia?” James pulled on a cord and looked at the end of it. “And why in the hell does everything have to be USB now? Remember when a monitor plug looked like a monitor plug and a printer cable looked like a fucking printer cable?”

“Maybe I should call back later.”

James sighed. “No, no. I’m sorry. It’s just turning into a Monday. How’s your day going?”

“From the sound of it, better than yours. Actually, I was wondering if you’re doing anything Friday night?”

James pulled on another cable and heard something rattle on the desk above him. “Friday? Unless the server room catches on fire, I’m free.”

“I was wondering if you’d like to come down to my place? I could make dinner.”

James let go of the cables and tried to shift into a comfortable position. Gabe sounded a bit uncertain, and despite a distinct lack of experience, James could think of reasons other than dinner why Gabe might be inviting him over. That sent a knot of nerves twisting around his stomach.

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

“Great.” Gabe already sounded more relaxed. “Um… maybe eightish, or really whenever is good for you. Or Saturday if that would be easier? Or I could come up and get you?”

“I can get there. Friday is fine and eightish sounds good.”

“I’ll e-mail you my address, and let you get back to your cables.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Okay. Bye.”

James swallowed hard, suddenly very aroused at the thought of what Friday might bring, though he knew he shouldn’t make assumptions. It could just be dinner.

“Hey, boss?”

James gritted his teeth as the sound of Dave’s voice shot his arousal dead. “I’m down here.”

Dave’s head came into view. “Hey, um, people in the English Department are saying their mail has been bouncing for the last hour, and are you doing anything for lunch? ’Cause I’ve been reading, and I’ve got some questions.”

James really wanted it to be Friday.

I
T
HAD
already been a painfully slow week when Tamyra dropped three large binders onto Gabe’s desk, nearly sending him out of his skin with fright. He’d spent half the morning on the phone with his sister, trying to work out a dinner he wouldn’t fail at, and his mind was still on salad options.

“Here.”

“What am I looking at?”

“Your weekend reading. Mostly Russian property law. Also lists and backgrounds for issues that might come up in the next phase of the
Budu
ŝie tehnologii
negotiations.”

“I’ve got plans for the weekend.” Plans that would hopefully involve getting James into bed and have nothing to do with Russian property law.

“So do I. That’s why I read it all already.”

Gabe looked at the six inches worth of binders. He flipped open the top one. The first page was in photocopied and in Cyrillic with handwritten translations under each line.

“And when does this need to be done by?”

“Monday morning, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Monday.” He flipped a page to find more Cyrillic. “Don’t I have people who are supposed to read these for me?”

“Yes, you do, and they already have, but you always say you want to be 100 percent in the loop. Here’s the loop.”

J
AMES
LOOKED
at himself in the mirror and tried to flip his hair around again. He’d thought about getting a cut and maybe a shirt that was less than three years old, but it was nearly the end of the month, and there wasn’t room in the budget. He’d tried on half his wardrobe, trying to find something that didn’t make him look drab.

There was a knock on his bedroom door.

“Yeah?”

Dylan let himself in. He held out a Sears bag. “Happy birthday.”

James took the bag. “My birthday isn’t for months.”

“I know. It’s early.” He opened the bag and pulled out a shirt. It was a deep green button-down of some sort of light material. “Try it on.”

He pulled off the light blue work shirt he’d settled on and put on the green one. He was pretty sure the fabric wasn’t silk, but it still felt nice. He began to button it up, but Dylan stopped his hands before they got to the top.

“Nope, top two stay undone.”

James looked in the mirror again, feeling rather exposed. Dylan reached out and brushed his hair around to the side. It suddenly went from messy to stylish.

“There. Green looks good on you.”

James didn’t know what to say. “Thank you, but—”

“No buts. Go out tonight, enjoy dinner, and I don’t want to see you back here until sometime tomorrow.”

“Dylan.” It seemed like they were having this discussion every other day.

“No, Dad,” Dylan snapped. “No. I know every adult in your life. I know every relationship you’ve ever had, which is none. I know every date you’ve ever been on, and you’ve always been home before ten, usually before nine. I know about that guy at the camping thing, and you couldn’t have gotten far there. And by the way, gross. He was like twenty years older than you.” James felt a flash of shame. “This Gabe guy seems to like you and makes you happy, so please, Dad, please, go have some adult alone time. Lots of it.”

James squinted at his son. “If I stay out, you do not get to bring girls over.”

Dylan put one hand over his heart and raised the other. “I swear on the grave of Joe DiMaggio, if you go out and try to be unvirtuous, I will stay in and be as virtuous as humanly possible.”

James peered at the shirt and the strip of bare chest he was showing, and wondered at what kind of message it was sending. “Are you sure two buttons aren’t too many?”

“They’re perfect. I promise.”

T
HE
ELEVATOR
quietly pinged, telling James he’d reached the penthouse level before the doors whisked open. The first thing he saw was Gabe smiling at him. Then there was a rush of scent and sound. Light jazz and the aroma of tomatoes and peppers surrounded him. Gabe gave him a peck on the cheek, smelling of spices himself, and pulled him out of the elevator.

“Come on in.”

Gabe stepped aside, and James stepped directly into a living room that was easily larger than his entire apartment but still managed to feel warm and cozy. An open-plan kitchen was half-visible from his vantage point, and through every window to the outside he could see a patio with benches and a few potted plants. James had been expecting sleek and modern for the penthouse of a fancy building, but instead there was warm wood, leather, and woven fabrics. The paintings on the walls were of seascapes with vast skies and rolling waves.

“Dinner is almost ready.” Gabe helped slip his jacket from his shoulders before hanging it on some thick pegs by the elevator door. “Kick off your shoes if you like.” James reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a CD. His heart was already going too fast, and he felt a small tremble in his hands.

“Before I forget, I have something for you.” He handed over the CD. “That kid you liked at open-mic night, the one with the guitar, I looked him up. Turns out he did a self-recorded CD.”

Gabe grinned and gave him another quick kiss. “Thank you so much. I’ll put it on.” Gabe headed for what James thought was an empty wall, until a portion of it rolled aside to reveal an impressive sound system. The jazz was quickly switched out. At the first few notes of the Mexican guitar, Gabe closed his eyes and smiled to himself. “That’s really sweet. Thank you. Would you like a glass of wine?”