Going Up! (3 page)

“And the train was gone. Dad decided I was too old for it, so the train was gone, and I had a laptop with learning software under the tree.”

Leah closed her mouth with a snap. “That’s the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” she said, appalled.

Zach shrugged. “I’ve heard sadder,” he said frankly, thinking of the nurse who’d gotten fired because she’d gained weight. “The point isn’t the sad.”

“Oh the hell it
isn’t—
”

“The point is that I don’t know what he’ll do,” Zach said evenly, because that
was
the point. “He has an idea of what the world should be like, and I don’t know what he’ll do to make that work.”

Leah swallowed. “What
can
he do?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Zach shrugged. “You, uhm, ever wonder why we get a nice office building doing union law when the rest of the building is all corporate law and high-priced media attorneys?”

“Oh.”

“And, you know, my
own
apartment is sort of awesome.”

“And all your employees get discounts,” she said numbly, and Zach nodded, thinking about six people in an apartment, struggling with rent.

“Yes, yes you do.”

“Oh,” she said again.

“Oh,” he repeated quietly. “So, uhm, enjoy your shopping trip. The party is in three weeks.”

Leah took two steps toward the door, and then turned around. “You, uhm, well, maybe not a month ago, but now, you know I’d move, right? To see you smile every morning like you have been.”

Zach shrugged, and managed a small smile from that reserve of all those moments in the elevator. “I promise, I won’t stop bringing coffee.”

She sighed and left, and he got to his day’s business.

H
E
TOLD
himself that he’d have to be content with visions of Sean in the mornings. From floor fourteen to floor one, he had a relationship with someone funny, quirky, kind, smart, and surprising.

It was almost a perfect relationship, really. Except that the more times Sean came galloping down the hall begging Zach or someone else to hold the elevator, the more Zach felt like he was missing something in the greeting. A simple kiss, a peck on the cheek, a pat on the arm or the shoulder—shouldn’t he be getting in on some of that?

He had to keep reminding himself that the relationship didn’t really exist.

I
T
WAS
hard. Two weeks after the Mae West dress the entire world was strewn with red paper hearts and doilies, and Sean blew his mind.

“Oh my God.” Zach’s eyes were so big he could feel them drying out.

“Don’t say it,” Sean warned him, but his eyes were twinkling under the big blonde bouffant wig he was wearing.

“I
know
you’re not teaching today,” Zach said, seriously, and Sean’s mock seriousness started to dissolve under blush-highlighted dimples.

“Don’t say it,” he warned, the giggles threatening as Zach took in the entire ensemble. Flesh-colored leotard and tights, giant white diaper, golden halo, little wings, and a quiver full of valentines.

“Cupid!” Zach burst out before clapping his hand over his mouth.

Sean nodded, smiling so wide his makeup flaked and crinkled around his eyes. “I’m….” Sean nodded some more and Zach blurted out, “Fucking
adorable
!” at the same time Sean said, “Cuter than hell!” They were both still laughing when the doors opened.

Ding!

“S
O
,” L
EAH
said when Zach brought her coffee and pink-iced lemon cake slices. “What was he wearing today?”

Zach closed his eyes and his face split into a grin. “He was
Cupid
!”

“Oh my God!”

The entire rest of the day was sort of tinted pink.

Z
ACH
WAS
late home that night per usual, but as the elevator doors were closing he heard a familiar voice.

“Hold the elevator! Oh, hi!”

Zach smiled at Sean, relieved that he was back in his street clothes. It was cold outside, and while cute, the whole Cupid thing had to have gotten old after a bit.

“Hi,” he said quietly. “No date tonight?”

“Party at my apartment!” Sean said, holding up a case of cheap beer. “And a date
there.
”

Zach’s heart crumbled quietly into his ribcage. “Really? You have a date?”

Sean rolled his eyes in embarrassment. “Well, it was actually a customer. I delivered an apology telegram, and he tore it up. And then asked me what
I
was doing. I figured why not—if we don’t work out,
someone
at the party is going to make his day better, right?”

Little fragments of heart began to reassemble themselves in Zach’s chest. “That’s sweet.”

Shrug. “Well, it’s a stupid day. I mean, I’m almost glad I didn’t sub today. The kids—like in middle school—maybe 15 percent of them have a good day. The rest of them are just on the shitty side of the popularity scale, you know? As adults, I think it’s better to go out and get plastered than to try to find the perfect lay.”

Zach had to laugh. “I think that’s a good policy,” he said, pursing his mouth and trying to look sage. “Have a nice evening.”

The door opened for Sean’s floor, and Sean took a step out of the elevator. The doors started to close and he held out a hand and turned around.

“You, uhm, you wouldn’t want to come to the party too, would you?”

Zach swallowed. “That’s really nice of you to ask,” he said sincerely. “I have work to do at home though.”

Sean shrugged, and Zach had to tell himself that the gesture wasn’t wistful. “Next time?” He actually sounded hopeful, and Zach found himself promising something he shouldn’t have, even though he really wanted to promise it anyway.

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding. “I’d love to come next time.”

After all, what were the odds he’d actually meet Sean at the elevator at night again, right?

S
EAN
STOOD
in the lobby when Zach arrived three nights of the next week. For a brief, wild moment, Zach entertained the idea that Sean was actually
waiting
for him, but that couldn’t be right, could it?

“Your, uh, friend didn’t work out?” Zach asked tentatively, the first night he found Sean in the lobby waiting for the car.

“Not for me!” Sean said brightly as the elevator arrived. “But someone else at the party got lucky, so it’s all good. I told you—Valentine’s Day hook-ups never work. No skin off my nose.”

Zach noticed that Sean’s nose was a little freckled and a little pink every day. “Good,” he said. “Because you don’t have a lot to spare.”

“Ouch!” Sean hammed, clutching his chest as they got in the car.

Zach chuckled, because he was clearly not all that put out.

“What about you?” Sean asked. “Get all your work done?”

Zach thought about the files he had in his briefcase and shook his head. “No. Never. My work is
always
waiting for me to finish it.”

Sean grimaced. “Wow—is that the pain that comes with the suit?”

Shrug. “That’s what comes from being the boss.”

Ding!

Sean turned and waved on his way out.

T
HE
NIGHT
after that, they shared the cab with five other people, smashed against the mirrored back, close enough for Zach to smell his body wash again. It had changed—now it smelled like oak. Zach sort of preferred the last one, but really? The skin beneath the soap was all he cared about.

At the “ding” for Sean’s floor, Zach waved his briefcase like a weapon and said, “Out of his way, folks, he’s got to get out!” As the doors closed on him, Zach could swear Sean was executing a little bow.

T
HE
NIGHT
of the benefit, Zach actually met him on the way out of the lobby, as Sean was walking in.

“Oh my God!”

Zach stopped in the middle of the doors and looked at him, startled.

“What? Do I have a stain? A hole? A wrinkle?”

“That’s a
tux
! That’s an Armani tux! Where the hell are you going?”

Zach grimaced. “A benefit for my father,” he said. “My secretary is my plus one.” He wasn’t sure why he added that. Maybe he didn’t want Sean to think he was going on a date, which was stupid, because he’d already consigned the man to his own love life, right?

“Wait,” Sean said blankly. “A benefit? For your father?”

Oh. Oh hell. “Yeah. Uhm, Gordon Driscoll.” He smiled greenly, and watched as Sean’s mouth dropped open. A gaggle of people approached: a woman with a poodle, and the two stockbrokers who shared the top floor with Zach.

Zach stepped out of the elevator and let them step on, and Sean just stood there as the elevator doors closed, looking at him like he’d kicked his dog.

“You’re Gordon Driscoll’s son?” Sean said, sounding hurt.

“Zach.” Zach extended a hopeful hand. “Uhm, pleased to meet you.”

Sean’s hand was clammy in his, and Zach’s heart once again crumbled into powder. He wondered how many times it was going to do that before it just blew away like dust.

“I, uhm, promise, I’d never tell my dad how many people live in your apartment,” Zach said for the sake of saying something. “He charges too much anyway.”

“Gordon Driscoll, the Republican candidate for state assembly.” Sean was still making sure Zach was related to a douchebag, apparently, and Zach sighed.

“I never vote for him, if that helps.”

Sean let go of his hand abruptly. “Wait—what do you do for a living? You said you were the boss?”

“Union lawyer,” Zach told him. Sean’s hurt was starting to penetrate his chest. Maybe this would help, right? He was a good guy, right? “If, uhm, you know, anyone ever gives you crap about being a gay teacher, you, uhm, well, know where to find me.”

Sean didn’t respond. His blue eyes were still huge and Zach was seized by the sudden urge to kiss him, right there, and say, “I’m just as human as you are!” but that would be silly, right? What purpose would it serve?

He saw his town car pull up to the front of the building and sighed when his driver got out and started walking toward the lobby.

“I’m sorry I disappointed you,” he said at last, and then turned toward the driver. He wanted to turn and look back to see if Sean had snapped out of it, if he’d smiled yet or recovered his humor, or remembered that they’d laughed together several times in the past two months, but he couldn’t.

God. It was hard enough already.

T
HE
BENEFIT
was held in a library galleria, with an indoor fountain and great windows looking out onto the San Francisco night. It was a glorious venue, something that needed a costume and quiet humor to appreciate.

Which made him think of Sean the minute he walked into the reception with Leah on his arm.

He proceeded to get quietly, devastatingly drunk. Leah honed in on his mood, and instead of getting charmingly tipsy, she made sure his glass was always filled with top shelf vodka and cranberry juice, and that he never had to talk to someone alone.

At the end of the benefit, his father walked up to him, looking hale and distinguished. His hair was silver instead of sable, but his eyes were still the warm brown Zach’s were, and his handshake was hearty.

“Good to see you here, Zach,” he said genially, but Zach wasn’t feeling genial.

“Did I have a choice?” he asked bleakly, and Gordon blinked.

“Well, this is what you do for family, isn’t it?” Gordon’s aide came up to his elbow and murmured something in his ear, and Zach raised ironic eyebrows.

“Yeah, Dad—every family meets four times a year at political fundraisers. It’s in all the sitcoms.”

Leah tugged on his sleeve. “Uhm, Zach? I don’t think this is a good night for this.”

“Well,” Gordon said, annoyance lacing his voice, “if you’d like to visit more often, your mother would be happy to see you. Have Leah make an appointment with her secretary, but I think we’re usually available for Sunday brunch.”

“Yeah but that’s when all good boys sleep in with their b—” Zach had his mouth open to say it. He was going to by God finish that sentence and say Sunday brunch was when good boys slept in with their boyfriends, even though he didn’t have one—but Leah grabbed his sleeve in earnest this time and he managed to turn his bleary attention toward her.

“Not tonight,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what got into you, but this is not the mood you need to go about this, okay?”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Gordon said smoothly, and he shook his son’s hand again and left without looking back.

The arrow of memory suddenly pierced his alcohol haze, and he was abruptly miserable.

“He found out who I am,” Zach mumbled, wanting to cry. Did he know Leah well enough to cry on her? She was wearing a new black dress with rhinestones up the sides, and one sturdy brown shoulder exposed. She’d obviously come prepared to have a good time on the company dime, and he’d just gotten drunk for the first time since his freshman year in college.

“Elevator boy?” she asked, but Zach couldn’t talk about it anymore.

“I didn’t tell you that your dress is fabulous,” he said with dignity. “And I think I need to go.”

“I’ll take you home,” she said, and her wide face was suddenly so kind he thought he really
would
cry. She patted his cheek and smiled, and none of her usual sarcasm was in the gesture or in her sweet brown eyes. God, he owed this woman a raise.

W
HEN
HE
woke up the next morning to find her on his couch, wearing his sweats, he thought that maybe a raise wouldn’t be good enough.

“Fuuuuck!” he groaned, stumbling into the living room in his boxer shorts. She stretched and yawned and looked out his bay window onto the city below.