When Will I See You Again (23 page)

“That’s nice,” he managed to get out. “I like it.”

“Tell us something about yourself, Alexx,” Philippe Marchand began, taking Alexx by surprise. He’d assumed the interrogation was to be on Raoul’s part, not his own. “How long have you lived in Crescent Bay?”

“About two years now, sir.” Alexx focused on his plate, hoping the senior Marchand wouldn’t ask anything that required the admission of a specific date. He didn’t feel like putting his math skills to the test in order to maintain the charade of his age, especially if he kept drinking this delicious wine. Which seemed likely.

“I understand that you work for the
Chronicle
? As a reporter?”
“Yes, I am. I mean I do. Well, not exactly.” Alexx became flustered, trying to separate wishful thinking from reality. “I work in the mail room right now. But I hope to be a reporter some day.”

He thought it expedient, for many reasons, not to mention the story he was currently working on, the one he’d be giving up soon, actually. He could see that objectivity was a lost cause in regard to anything having to do with Raoul Marchand, and journalistic integrity would be impossible to maintain under the circumstances.

Another call that needed to be made—one to Mr. Randolph. He hoped the editor would understand his position in the matter, or he’d be looking for a new job, he had a feeling.

“I’m sure your parents are very proud of you,” Eleanor cut in.

“Do they live here in Crescent Bay?”

“No, ma’am,” Alexx quickly answered. “Well, I don’t really know that, I guess. I suppose they could. Not my mom, I mean maybe my father, if I knew who he was.” He wasn’t making any sense, even to himself, so he took a deep breath and started over.

“I’m an orphan. I’ve never met my parents. My mother died when she had me, and the orphanage never knew who my father was.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Alexx. Forgive me for bringing it up.”

“It’s all right. I’m used to it.” Alexx smiled, attempting to reassure her that he’d long ago become enured to the idea of his parentless condition.

“How did you and Raoul meet?”

“Oh. We met…at Charisma.” Alexx took another long sip of the wine, fighting back the urge to giggle as the bubbles radiated through his sinuses. It was so light, he almost forgot he was drinking alcohol.

“Do you go to Charisma often?” That was Philippe’s question.

Alexx couldn’t tell if Raoul’s father was questioning him about
his drinking habits, or wondering if he was in the habit of picking up men. Like Raoul. His ears felt warm and he was sure they were turning red. Did they think he was a fortune hunter, drawn to Raoul for his money? How could he let them know that his attraction to their son was based on something far more elemental, something deep inside of him? Something inside them both? But words failed him. Before he could say anything stupid, Raoul intervened.

“Father, quit interrogating Alexx and come to the point. You asked to see me, so obviously you have questions for me. Why don’t we get those out of the way?”

“Interrogation is a harsh word, Raoul. We’re simply interested in getting to know Alexx, that’s all. It’s been a long time since—”

“Father!” Raoul fairly barked, drawing the attention of everyone at the table.

Philippe Marchand help up one aristocratic hand. “There’s no need for that tone.” His eyes held a warning, while his voice was filled with disapproval, wrapped about a low warning growl.

“Raoul, it’s all right.” Alexx attempted to placate his irritated lover. “I understand. It’s only natural they should ask about me. I mean, under the circumstances. Considering what we’re doing.”

He hadn’t meant that the way it sounded, and when he realized the double entendre in his words, his entire face heated. He was sure it was as scarlet as his hair by now.

He felt Raoul relax within his touch. He tugged on Raoul’s hand, subtly, but it was enough to carry his message. Raoul leaned toward him and their lips met across the table. “It’s okay,” Alexx whispered. “Everything’s okay.” He fastened his eyes on Raoul’s until he received a knowing smile in return.

“Forgive me,” Raoul apologized, turning toward his parents.

“The last couple of days have been…very stressful.”
As Alexx turned his attention to Philippe and Eleanor as well, he thought the couple exchanged a knowing glance. He wasn’t sure, but they seemed pleased about something. Rather incongruous, considering the circumstances, but better than having to face their wrath.

“More wine?” Philippe asked, reaching for the bottle, and though common sense told him not to, Alexx found himself holding out his glass.

“Yes, please.”

Philippe refilled all four glasses. Raoul waited until the pleasantries were concluded before beginning. “I know you know about the murder I’m suspected of.”

“Yes, Jon’s given me as many details as he could. It seems to have been committed by a werewolf. Why you in particular?”

“As I’m sure Jon told you, I was probably one of the last people to see the victim that night.”

“At Charisma?”

“Yes, at Charisma. We were together for a short while, in…my office.” He didn’t go into details, for which Alexx was grateful.

Knowing it was one thing, but he’d rather not hear it reenacted in a play-by-play description. Raoul’s parents probably felt the same way.

“This is serious.” Philippe frowned. He held his glass of prosecco thoughtfully between his fingers, his eyes focused on Raoul. “I know you didn’t kill that man, regardless of what it looks like. You’re not a killer, Raoul, that much I know. The question is, though, was he truly killed by one of ours and why? There hasn’t been a murder in this community in many years, much less one committed by one of our own.”

“You think it’s a setup?” Alexx asked without thinking. “I’m
sorry, I don’t mean to butt in.”

“You’re not butting in.” Raoul quickly spoke up. “We’re in this together. What concerns me concerns you.”

Alexx felt his heart expand to twice its normal size, and unexpected tears prickled his eyes. For a moment, he was speechless.

“Yes, Alexx, please don’t hesitate to speak.” That was Eleanor.

She cast him a reassuring glance.

“Thank you,” Alexx murmured, swallowing quickly, hoping his voice sounded steadier than it felt. “I just want to help Raoul, that’s all. I mean, that’s why… That is…”

He fell silent again, wondering if he’d said too much. He wasn’t sure how much Raoul’s parents knew of the arrangement whereby he’d essentially become responsible for Raoul’s actions.

Would they find the idea ridiculous, considering Raoul was twice his age, and a lycan to boot?

“Thank
you
,” Eleanor said. “We cannot begin to express our appreciation to you for what you’ve done… for everything…” She stopped speaking abruptly.

Alexx looked at her in surprise as she dabbed her eyes with a napkin. Was she crying? What exactly was she thanking him for?

He felt confused, as if he’d walked into the middle of an ongoing story and resumed a role, although he had no idea what had come before his entrance.

Philippe rose and approached his wife, putting his arms about her.

Raoul took advantage of the momentary confusion to draw close to Alexx. “Excuse yourself to the men’s room,” he whispered. “I’ll follow in a few minutes.” Raoul’s eyes implored his understanding. Alexx gave it to him.
“Absolutely,” he said, pressing a light kiss on those beautiful lips. Raoul drew back as Alexx rose. “Um…please excuse me for a minute. Which way…?” He addressed the question to Raoul, who pointed toward the far side of the restaurant. Alexx could read the familiar signs. Good, that would be easy to find.

Not waiting for a response, he skirted the few tables between him and his destination, willing his heart to resume its normal beat.

He pushed open the door to the men’s room and stood back as another diner pushed past him on his way out. This room was as elegant as the rest of the establishment—gleaming gold fixtures, with the same green, gold, burgundy scheme repeated.

Nervous, he leaned against the wall, his fingers feeling the flocked wallpaper beneath his fingertips, tracing the raised edges.

He wished Raoul would come. He wanted to be in his arms, to feel their hearts beat together, to simply be with him. He knew there was much more of this evening to come but with this little respite, it would hopefully be easier to get through.

Raoul’s parents seemed nice and they’d welcomed him with open arms, accepting arms. He understood their concern for their son, as well as for the lycan community. If this murder was proven to be committed by a werewolf, that would be quite a blow to relations between them and the rest of Crescent Bay. Alexx sensed there was more to it than that, though, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Something more…personal.

Pushing off from the wall, he paced nervously across the width of the men’s room. When a patron entered, Alexx ducked into a stall, waiting until the man left before coming out and resuming his interrupted occupation. He began to count the number of trips he took from one wall to another, adding up the steps he traversed in order to keep his mind occupied.
Glancing at his watch, Alexx was surprised to find that ten minutes had passed. What was keeping Raoul? He glanced into one of the mirrors over the pristine sinks, regarded his image critically, then splashed water over his face in an attempt to calm down. It helped slightly, but only slightly.

As he paced once more, he started whistling to bolster his flagging courage. Without thinking, he began the familiar strains of Ravel’s “Bolero.” The same simple melody that was repeated without variation through the entire piece. Simple, but classic.

Something about the tune made him feel better, whenever he was down. This time was no exception.

Just when he had almost decided to return to the table to see what was keeping Raoul, he glanced up to find his lover standing in the doorway, staring at him with a look in his eye that Alexx couldn’t quite place. Incredulity? Fear? Or something else?

“Jamie?” Raoul’s hoarse voice was pain-laden, his eyes wide.

As Alexx watched, Raoul clenched and unclenched his fists, staring in disbelief, his mouth falling open, wordlessly. Without uttering another sound, he spun on his heels and disappeared from Alexx’s view.

Alexx stared after him in dismay, greatly confused.

Raoul sat uncomfortably at the table, once Alexx had made his excuses and departed, watching his parents, knowing the reason for this outburst of emotion, and unwilling to discuss it. He pressed his lips into a tight line, drumming his fingers on the tabletop with growing irritation. After a few minutes, his father resumed his seat, after a last tender caress and a gentle kiss upon his mother’s lips.

“More wine?” Philippe asked, but Raoul covered his glass with his hand, shaking his head.

He hated to see his mother upset, and he’d never hurt her, not knowingly. On the other hand, he was a forty-year-old man, and he was more than capable of taking care of himself. In every way. He didn’t feel histrionics were necessary, and they certainly weren’t helping anything. He wanted Alexx to feel comfortable with his
family. This was not the time or place to dredge up painful history that he’d resolved long ago to keep buried. Yet lately it seemed as though that was becoming harder and harder to do.

Raoul suddenly became aware of someone behind him. He stiffened at the touch of a hand dropped upon his shoulder, shrugging away from it as he turned in his seat to confront the man behind him. Foster Levine. A barely perceptible sneer pulled back his upper lip for a fleeting moment.

“Good evening!” Foster greeted them in a hearty voice. “How lovely to see you all together.”

“Good evening, Foster,” Philippe replied in his typical calm, cool manner. Raoul marveled at how quickly his father could turn his emotions off and on. Like an automaton. He ruled his family and his pack with the same deft iron hand. Yet he also knew how to wear the velvet glove, especially when it came to his wife.

“How is your father?”

As Foster answered the question, Raoul tuned out his response, uninterested in listening to idle chitchat. It had been long enough.

He wanted to get to Alexx. He
needed
to get to Alexx. The very thought brought relief to his taxed emotions. The more he thought it, the greater his relief, the stronger his resolve. He pushed back his chair, forcing Foster to quickly sidestep him.

“Excuse me,” Raoul murmured for his parents’ benefit.

His mother caught his eye. He had the feeling she understood more than she let on. “Take your time, dear,” she replied softly, her words easily audible to his supersensitive hearing. “We have time yet before dinner.” She offered him a smile of encouragement, and he found himself returning it, despite himself.

Yes, Alexx was exactly what he needed.

He crossed the restaurant with a light step and a renewed sense
of purpose. He simply wanted a moment away from his parents, a chance for some privacy with Alexx. That thought alone produced a smile. They’d been nothing but alone all day, in all honesty, and yet Raoul craved more of the same. He couldn’t get enough of Alexx, and he knew it. He quickened his step toward the men’s room.

At first the melody he heard blended in with the background ambience of the restaurant itself. But as he drew nearer, it became more distinct to his discerning ear, and it was with a growing sense of unease that he approached the door.