Something Like Winter (26 page)

“
What are these even for?”
Tim said. “Who wants to buy a swimsuit in the middle of
winter?”

“
Winter is over, darling,”
said one of the lighting technicians. “At least as far as the
industry is concerned. You have to stay ahead of the
game!”

“
Less talking, more
sulking,” one of the photographers ordered.

That part Tim could handle.
This had been the weekend from hell. He had felt so proud at Eric’s
Thanksgiving party when haggling with Marcello. Tim had started at
ten thousand. Marcello had barely blinked, but still he talked Tim
down to five, with the promise of only having to work two days. And
Tim had jumped at the offer, thinking he had the upper hand. Now he
wasn’t so sure.

Yesterday morning was spent
being passed around from beautician to beautician. First they cut
Tim’s hair. Gone were the lanky locks that he had preferred since
high school. He loved having his hair long, especially since his
father always complained about it. His mother would come to his
defense, saying, “In Mexico, men can have beautiful hair too.”
Sorry, Mom, because now his hair was buzzed short on the sides and
gelled into messy spikes on top. They had wanted to give him
highlights, but Tim had drawn the line there.

Then came makeup, not just
for his face but for nearly his entire body as well. The first
photo shoot yesterday involved swimsuits, but at least they had
been in a warm studio. Then Tim was put into outfit after outfit,
Marcello consulting the list as they went along, naming fashion
brands too exotic to be cheap.

In the afternoon, another
model was brought in, a guy with long blond bangs and arms so toned
that Tim felt like hitting the ground for some push ups. Both he
and Tim were outfitted in the same kind of pseudo-letter jackets
that high school kids wore in the fifties. Then they had to get
tangled up in just about every position imaginable, the clothing
coming off piece by piece. Sometimes they were posed like buddies
with their arms around each other. For other photos they might as
well have been dry humping.

“
Stick your tongue in his
ear,” the photographer said at one point.

“
Which one of us?” Tim had
asked.

“
Don’t worry, dude,” his
modeling partner replied, bringing his tongue close to Tim’s ear.
“I’m straight.”

“
Aren’t we all?” Tim
muttered as his ear canal was filled with saliva and a barrage of
flashes blinded him.

The endless outfits, poses,
makeup, and homoerotic modeling partners went on and on, well into
the evening. Then Tim went home to sleep. Unfortunately for him,
the next day brought crisp clear winter weather, which the
photographers loved. This meant he was paraded from location to
outdoor location, all of them freezing.

“
I think that’s it for the
light,” one of the photographers said, checking a meter. “We’ll
have to make do with what we got.”

“
Gee, thanks,” Tim grumped,
grabbing a bathrobe from a nearby folding chair and stomping toward
the limousine. After climbing into the back seat opposite Marcello,
he slammed the door extra hard to make his unhappiness clear.
“You’re really getting your money’s worth, aren’t you?”

“
I always do.” Marcello
chuckled. “You know, there are less time-consuming ways to make
money. They pay better, too.”

Tim was too smart to ask.
Porn was out of the question, and Eric had warned him about
Marcello’s escort service that catered to an elite clientele.
Instead, he pulled the robe tighter around himself and watched the
crew outside gathering their equipment. The sun was going down,
which hopefully meant that they were done for the day.

“
Just one more shoot,”
Marcello said. “This one on the rooftop with Austin’s lights
glittering in the background.”

Tim sighed. “And me in a
swimsuit?”

“
In a gentleman’s suit,
actually. A tuxedo.”

That was a welcome change.
“Do I have time to grab dinner first?”

Marcello checked his watch.
“Plenty, but don’t overeat or your stomach will show.”

He was one to talk! “Don’t
worry. After a day like today, I’ll probably just drink my
dinner.”

“
Or you can dine with
me.”

Tim shook his head,
attention still on the crew outside. “If we’re heading back to your
house, I thought I’d visit Eric.”

Eric’s home wasn’t far from
Marcello’s place, and right now his grounded presence would be a
welcome relief. Tim could rely on Eric not to treat him like a
piece of meat. Those photographers were brutal!

“
I’ve been meaning to ask,”
Marcello said. “How is Eric holding up?”

Tim tore his eyes away from
the window. “Holding up?”

“
Well, you know.” Marcello
watched him, playing subconsciously with the rings on his fingers.
“Or don’t you?”

“
What?” Tim
snapped.

“
Never mind,” Marcello
said, as if the topic suddenly bored him. “Get out there and tell
those damn photographers they’re riding with the crew if they don’t
hurry up. I’m starving!”

Tim watched him a moment
longer, but Marcello acted as if the conversation had never
occurred. If this was some new game, Tim wasn’t playing it. Instead
he went and told the photographers that Marcello
wanted
them to ride back
with the crew. They were furious, but weren’t about to complain to
their employer. Tim grinned all the way back to the
limo.

Once back at Marcello’s
home—just as grand and ostentatious as its owner—Tim hopped into
his car, enjoying the solitude as he drove to Eric’s. Try as he
might, he couldn’t purge Marcello’s words from his mind.
How is Eric holding up?
Since Eric and Gabriel split up, maybe? Wasn’t that ancient
history? There had to be something else, unless Marcello was
screwing with him. Even for Marcello, that seemed too childish,
like a kid declaring with glee that he had a secret.

When Tim got to Eric’s
house, an old Honda Civic was pulling out of the driveway. Tim
slowed in the street, blinker showing he intended to pull in after
it. The car backed out and crept forward in his direction, a
chubby-cheeked woman checking him out with interest.

She slowed when their
windows were lined up, rolling hers down. Tim did the same,
recognizing her from last month. This was the woman Eric described
as being too chatty. Maybe she intended to have a long conversation
with Tim right here in the middle of the road.

“
Are you family?” she
asked.

Wasn’t that slang for being
gay? Or did she want to know if he was related to Eric? Tim barely
remembered Eric describing this woman as neither friend nor family,
so he winged it. “Yeah, I’m family.”

“
Well, bless you! I know
this isn’t easy.”

What the hell was going on?
Like a secret phrase passed from spy to spy, he tried Marcello’s
mysterious words. “How’s he holding up?”

The woman was exasperated.
“I don’t have to tell you that Eric is a stubborn old goat! That’ll
keep him strong for a while, but he certainly won’t listen to me.
Have you tried talking to him about chemo?”

“
Chemo?” Tim repeated with
dry lips.

“
He can at least give it a
try instead of throwing in the towel. I’ve seen it help people in
his situation before.”

Tim nodded dumbly.
“Cancer,” he managed to say.

“
I know, dear. It’s
horrible, isn’t it? Well, you stay strong and see if you can’t
convince him, okay? Do you have my number? You can always call if
you have questions or if you need someone to talk to.”

She reached across the
space between their vehicles to hand him a business card. Tim took
it and thanked her. Then he pulled into the driveway and stared at
it.
Lisa Ownby: Austin Heights Hospice
Care.
This couldn’t be right. Eric wasn’t
sick. He was in great shape and full of life. Besides, he would
have told Tim about something like this. Maybe they had only known
each other for a month or two, but they were close. Weren’t
they?

But Eric did have that
cough he was always quick to dismiss. Tim knew all about keeping
secrets, and the more he thought about it, the more the pieces fell
into place. Marcello hadn’t been baiting Tim. He really had slipped
up! And that hurt worse, because Marcello knew and Tim didn’t. Why
would Eric trust a sleazebag like that instead of him? The thought
angered him enough that he started the car so he could pull out and
leave.

But he couldn’t. He was
pissed and would tell Eric so.

Tim killed the engine and
stormed to the front door, ringing the bell mercilessly. Then it
opened and he saw Eric—appearing smaller and more fragile than
usual against the light. Tim grabbed him into a hug.

“
What in the world?” Eric
said, voice strained. “Are you okay? Did things go badly with
Marcello?”

“
No,” Tim said, letting go.
“I’m just hungry, is all.”

Eric’s gaze flickered over
him with concern before he smiled. “You know I’m always good for a
sandwich. Come in!”

Once in the kitchen, Tim
watched Eric carefully, as if signs of his illness would be
apparent now that he knew. But Eric seemed fine. Maybe that’s why
he chose to hide it—because he could. Tim knew that game all too
well. But it still hurt him that Marcello had Eric’s confidence and
he didn’t.

“
Do you trust me?” Tim
asked.

Eric paused in the midst of
buttering a slice of bread. “Of course!”

“
I mean, I feel close to
you. Like I can be open with you. I want you to feel the same way
with me.”

Eric nodded, continuing his
work in silence. Butter, lettuce, ham, cheese, mayo. Tim’s stomach
growled in anticipation. He practically snatched the plate away
from Eric when it was ready.

“
He works his models hard,
doesn’t he?” Eric looked him over. “I hope you weren’t put in any
situations that made you uncomfortable.”

Tim shook his head while
chewing.

“
That’s good,” Eric said.
“Marcello, for the bad impression he can make, is an absolute
professional. He was one of Gabriel’s friends when we first met,
and to be honest, I couldn’t stand him. I used to call him the Fat
Man. You know, from the old
Maltese
Falcon
movie?”

Tim shrugged.

“
Anyway, first impressions
aren’t everything. Marcello might not embrace traditional ideas of
romance and relationships, but he cares about people in his own
way.” Eric leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms
over his chest. “I’ve known him for longer than you’ve been alive.
Sometimes that much history alone can make you comfortable around a
person.”

Comfortable enough to
confide in him that you have a deadly disease. Tim broke eye
contact and kept chewing. Truth be told, there were still plenty of
things Eric didn’t know about him, little things that he preferred
to keep to himself, like his painting. To anyone else, an interest
like that wouldn’t be worth keeping secret, but Tim needed to
because his art made him feel vulnerable. He could only imagine how
cancer could make someone feel the same, but for very different
reasons.

So Tim would pretend, if
that’s what Eric wanted. But there were other things he needed to
know, subjects he avoided to be polite. Marcello knowing Eric so
well made Tim feel like he needed to catch up somehow.

“
All that business with the
fraternity—” Tim began, but he didn’t need to finish because Eric
nodded.

“
You want to know what
really happened. Tell me, is that old gazebo still behind the
fraternity house?”

Tim shook his
head.

“
I’m not surprised. It was
practically falling down when I was your age. Anyway, there was
someone in my life, another brother. We weren’t roommates like you
and Travis are. That would have saved us a lot of trouble. Michael
and I discovered each other anyway, and occasionally we managed to
find private moments alone. Back then I was still willing to
compromise. Those closest to me knew I was gay, as did my family,
but it seemed prudent to keep a low profile.

“
Michael and I were
together for more than a year this way, and I have to admit our
relationship being a secret made it all the more thrilling. Perhaps
that’s why we became more and more daring. One evening, during a
party at the fraternity house, we snuck out to the gazebo. The
weather had been terrible, so everyone was staying in.
Unfortunately, we got carried away and let down our guard. A young
lady came outside and caught us in a compromising situation. Do you
need me to—”

“
No,” Tim said, his throat
tight. “I can imagine.”

“
Okay. Well, we heard the
young lady gasp and scrambled to pull up our pants as she headed
back to the house. We didn’t know how much she had seen, or if she
recognized us. I wanted to leave, but Michael thought our absence
would be twice as damning. Instead we returned through the front
entrance and tried to mingle. When the young lady saw Michael, she
looked right past him, not recognizing him. But when she saw
me…”