by Tara Lain
“God, I don’t know. Let’s eat, okay?”
The eggs with tomatoes and cheese were delicious. Still, he pushed them around until they got cold. Twenty-five years, at least thirteen of those hiding who and what he was—it got to be a habit.
Ru finished most of his eggs and leaned back in the chair. “What do you think your parents would say if you told them?”
“I just don’t know. They’re pretty religious. Especially my mom.” He sipped lukewarm coffee. “By the way, do you know any churches in the area where I can take them next Sunday?”
“What denomination?”
He shrugged. “Something Protestant.”
“I don’t know much about any churches, period, but I’m sure we can find out.”
“Yeah.” He stared in the coffee cup like it might have answers.
“Look, this is important to you. Do what you have to do to make your parents happy.”
“You’re important to me.”
“Wow.”
Gray looked up at Ru’s bright tiger eyes. “What?”
“I’d do a lot to hear those words.”
Gray smiled. “It’s true. I can’t define this exactly, but I know I don’t want to lose you over cowardice.”
“Yes, but I don’t want you making grand gestures because of me. No relationship, especially a new one, can stand that kind of burden.”
“Shit, I’m confused.”
“You don’t have to make a decision this minute. Maybe things will get clearer in the next couple days.”
“Think?”
“Hope.”
Gray let out a long breath. The world felt shaky under his feet, but being here with Ru made him happy. “I better get to the matinee.”
“I got a seat so I can watch from the audience.” Ru smiled.
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Hardly. I’m your biggest fan.” Ru got up, walked around the table, and kissed Gray gently. Then he started clearing the dishes.
A half hour later, Gray had brushed his teeth, gathered his miscellaneous belongings he’d scattered across the house, and ran across the backyard to meet Chris on the next street over. He stopped. Funny. He’d completely forgotten to ask Ru about the tattoo.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Concentrate. Ru drew another line on his sketchpad—then stopped. Did he hear voices? Good grief. He jumped up and walked into the sewing room, where two more garments for the collection were getting finishing touches. “Hey, sweethearts, how’s it going?”
Romana looked up from her machine. “Good. This is my favorite.”
He grinned. “I like it a lot too.” The “ghost dress,” as they all called it, featured a black leather bodice and huge gray tulle skirt.
“Ru, are you here?” Gray’s voice came from the hall.
Ru swallowed hard. Showtime. He adjusted his suspenders. He’d toned down a little, but Gray insisted he be himself, so what they saw was what they got. “In here, Gray.” He stepped into the hall.
Well, he hadn’t lied. The woman behind Gray defined lovely—brown hair about the color of Gray’s, wide eyes, high cheekbones, plus a tall, slender figure that would wear clothes well. The sweater and skirt she’d chosen, however, looked years too old for her and at least a size too big. Behind her a tall, robust man with iron-gray hair stared around like a stranger in a strange land.
Ru smiled. “Hi. Welcome. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Gray’s mom extended her hand. “I’m so glad to meet you. I’m Pamela Ansonfield. This is my husband, Charles.”
Ansonfield? Gray had never told him. He shook Mrs. Ansonfield’s hand. “Ru Maitland.” He let his hand get swallowed by Mr. Ansonfield’s big paw. “How do you do, sir?”
“Good, good. Nice place you’ve got here.”
“Thank you.”
Gray smiled but still looked edgy. “Ru’s working on his collection for New York Fashion Week.”
Mrs. Ansonfield said, “You did those amazing costumes for Hamlet, I understand. And Gray says he never would have understood the play without your help. We’re so grateful.”
“What did you think of your son as the melancholy Dane?”
“I’d say his performance made the Dane more angry than melancholy, but I think that may be a more meaningful interpretation for today’s audiences.”
Ru smiled. She certainly was no dummy. “So, we’re going to design an outfit for you.”
“Oh no, that’s silly. What would I do with a designer dress?”
Ru took her arm and led her to his office, with Gray and Mr. Ansonfield following. “First off, it doesn’t have to be a dress. What kinds of occasions in your life might require something nice to wear?”
“I’ll see that she goes someplace nice.” Mr. Ansonfield patted Ru’s back. “You just make her whatever she wants.”
They sat around Ru’s collaboration table. Gray leaned in. “So what do you want, Mom?”
She shook her head, but a little smile played over her lips.
Ru gave her a cockeyed look. “What’s hiding in your secret heart, my dear?”
“Well, I do have a thirty-year high school reunion coming up. I wouldn’t mind looking nice for that.”
Ru waggled a finger. “Reunions aren’t for looking nice. They’re for looking smashing.”
Dimples popped out in her cheeks. “I wouldn’t mind smashing.”
“Ah, you’ve come to the right place. Would you like a skirt or pants?”
“I guess if I had a skirt, I could also wear it to church.”
“True. How about one of each?” He grinned. “With a jacket and top that can all be mixed and matched with other ready-to-wear pieces that I’ll help you buy.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “Do you have time for that?”
“All I do is design. Thanks to your son’s business partnership, I have other people to sew for me.” He glanced up at Gray.
“Yes, I read about that. Who’d have ever thought our big guy would be in the fashion business?” She looked at her plain, short nails. “Have you and Gray been friends long?”
“No. We just met as a result of Hamlet.”
“Oh. Friendship at first sight, I guess?” She smiled.
What the hell do you say to that? “I’ll sketch up some concepts and show them to you. How does that sound?”
“Oh, wonderful. I have an idea. Gray is taking us to church on Sunday here in Laguna. Why don’t you join us? Then we can take you to lunch to try and show our appreciation, and you can surprise us with your designs—if that gives you enough time.”
He looked up at Gray, who seemed to have paled. Ru smiled. “I’d love to, thank you.”
Ru opened one eye as he felt the lips against his cheek. Gray whispered, “Stay asleep, sweetheart. I’m going to sneak back into the hotel. We’ll come get you for church in about two hours.”
“Mmmm. What church?”
“I found one at the southern end of town. Hopefully it will be a pleasant experience.”
“Mmmm.”
“Go back to sleep.”
He complied, but it only lasted about fifteen minutes before anxiety weaseled into his good-night-of-sex lassitude. Church with Gray’s parents. That will get you up, and maybe not in a good way.
He showered, shaved carefully even though he didn’t have much beard, and dressed in his most conservative suit. A soft-boiled egg and a piece of toast served as breakfast. Come on. No need to be jumpy. You’re only going to church. Still, the last church he’d been in was during a funeral for a fallen comrade.
He jumped at the knock on the door, took a deep breath, and answered it. Gray looked all shiny and polished in a dark suit, tie, and nervous grin. “You ready for this?”
“I don’t know. Am I?”
Ru locked the door and followed Gray to the limo. A couple of cars that appeared to be reporters were parked on the street, but the obvious formality of the occasion seemed to keep them at bay. Ru climbed in an
d sat on the jump seat across from Mr. and Mrs. Ansonfield. “Good morning. Did everyone sleep well?”
Mrs. Ansonfield wore a suit far too formal for California and far too old for her. Seemed to be a trend. “Yes. The beds in the hotel are wonderful. Aren’t they, Charles?”
Mr. Ansonfield nodded agreement.
Gray chimed in, “Yes, I’ve been sleeping very well.”
Ru cleared his throat suddenly to keep from laughing.
They chatted about the weather—dry and hot despite the mitigating effect of the ocean—as the limo made its way through traffic down busy PCH. Four narrow lanes of solid traffic, especially on the weekend, as the highway passed directly through the center of downtown Laguna Beach, separating the ocean from the hillside. Most people, like Ru, lived on the hillside, some in the cottagey neighborhoods and some in modern homes stacked up the hills.
Mrs. Ansonfield peered out the window facing the ocean. As they went south, some of the shops gave way to houses that clung to the cliffs, looking straight over the water. “These must have an amazing view.”
Ru nodded. “Yes. Very much like the views from the Vistage. As you go down closer to the sand, they’re even more amazing.”
“They must be very expensive.”
“Yes.” Ru sighed loudly. “One can only wish.”
“Oh? You have such a lovely, homey neighborhood, dear. Are you secretly yearning for one of these mansions?”
Ru shrugged. “No, I love my house. You’ll have to come see it.”
“That would be lovely.”
Chris pulled the limo into the parking lot of the church. He stopped, got out, and opened the door for the rest of them. Gray exited and helped his mother and father. Ru got out behind them and looked up at the big white building with the cross on top and people filing in the front. Hope this isn’t a mistake.
Chris nodded. “I’ll wait for you here, boss.”
Mrs. Ansonfield smiled at Chris. “We’d love to have you join us, Chris.”
“Kind of you, ma’am, but I’m not much for organized religion.”
“I understand. It’s not for everyone.” She smiled and took her husband’s arm, walking into the church.
Ru strolled beside Gray, consciously not touching him. Inside the big structure, people had started to realize who was in their midst, and the whispers got louder. They found a pew about halfway back in the congregation and filed in. A couple of people stood and snapped pictures of Gray.
The minister entered, and Ru followed everyone through the service, standing, sitting, and reciting. During the greeting of the congregation, a little girl about seven crawled over the pew toward Gray. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He grinned.
“I like your movies.”
“Thank you. I’m glad.”
“I like when you blow stuff up.”
Her mother grabbed her around the waist. “Caroline.” She smiled at Gray. “Sorry.”
“Not a problem. Bye, Caroline.”
Cute or what? Ru slid a hand across the wooden bench and gave Gray’s fingers a pet. Gray looked over and smiled. This isn’t so bad.
The minister walked up for what, according to the printed schedule, must be the sermon. He nodded to the assemblage, then smiled at Gray. “First, I know we have a very distinguished visitor today. Welcome. Happy to have you here and hope you’ll come back.” He looked toward a white-haired man sitting on a sideways pew. “It’s my special honor to welcome Pastor Wildemun, who’s visiting from our sister church in Wisconsin. He’ll be delivering the sermon today.”
Mrs. Ansonfield leaned toward Gray. “Oh, how nice.”
The white-haired man, slight in stature but with eyebrows bushy enough for three, took the lectern. “And first Corinthians tells us, ‘Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.’” He slammed the Bible closed with a thump. Ru shifted in his seat. Okay, maybe this wasn’t going so well after all.
The pastor smiled, and Ru got a shiver. “I know some of these issues are up for debate in our churches, especially here in California, the land of the fruits and the nuts, as they say.” He laughed. “But I believe the Bible is pretty explicit on these issues, and I don’t understand the dissension. Jesus has chosen to group homosexuals and the sexually immoral with thieves and swindlers. Yes, I know our church welcomes anybody who wants to worship, and I say Amen to that, but I think you need to cast a wary eye on your fellow parishioners to be sure you’re not letting the wolves in the hen house, so to speak.”
The pastor of the church glared at Wildemun like he might have let a cobra into his hen house, but he didn’t move or say a word.
“I’m making this tour of some of our more liberal parishes to splash a dose of good old-fashioned Midwestern wisdom on you all. Be wary. Be vigilant—”
Mrs. Ansonfield’s voice rang out in the otherwise quiet pews. “Excuse me, Charles. Will you please get up so we can leave?”
Ru stared at her, and Gray’s mouth literally hung open.
Charles Ansonfield rose and stepped out of the pew, letting his wife cross in front of him. Gray stood and started sliding toward the aisle, which, of course, caused every head to turn.
Wildemun’s voice rang out over the microphone. “Excuse me. Is there a problem?”
Mrs. Ansonfield turned and faced the dais. “Only that we’re leaving. Sorry for the disturbance.”
“Are you unwell?”
Ru sucked a breath. Don’t think he should have dared to ask that.
Mrs. Ansonfield stared at the man like he was gum on her shoe. “Yes, I’m sick to my stomach at your obscene ravings. I’ll tell you one thing, mister. I’m from the Midwest, and your so-called wisdom in no way represents me. I’m ashamed to be a member of the same church.”
Several people started to clap, and a group stood and followed them into the aisles. Soon, like the Pied Piper, they led a procession from the church into the bright sunlight of the late morning.
Ru whirled, grabbed Mrs. Ansonfield—Pamela—and twirled her around like a pinwheel. “You’re spectacular!”
She laughed. “Thank you. But I only told the truth.”
A couple of members of the congregation stepped up, including the little girl’s mother. “I’ll second that. I’m so sick of these pompous assholes, excuse my French, spreading hate in the name of religion.” She leaned down to her daughter. “Remember, we don’t use that word. Mommy apologizes.”
Ru set Pamela down. “Amen.” She smoothed her skirt and looked at Gray, who appeared shell-shocked. “What do you say we move on to lunch, and then we can all see Ru’s house while he shows me my new outfit?” She turned to the members of the congregation gathered nearby. “It was lovely to meet you all.”
One young guy who looked to be there with his parents said, “Excuse me. Are you Gray Anson’s mom?”
“Yes, dear, I am.”
“Well, I sure know where he gets his balls.”
The kid’s mother grabbed his arm. “Robert!”
Pamela laughed. “Thank you. I’ve never had a nicer compliment.”
Ru whispered to Gray, “Bigger, either.”
“Smart-ass.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
As they walked across the yard to the parking lot, several reporters snapped photos. Gray ignored them, and Ru sighed. Get used to it.
Two hours later, after a huge Mexican lunch, they piled back in the limo.
Pamela leaned against the cushions. “Oh my. How can I eat so much food? If we had more Mexican people in Wisconsin, I’d be three hundred pounds. That food is delicious.”
Gray patted his hard-as-steel abs.
“I love it too.”
“And Ru, I can see why you’d want to have a view like that. My goodness, I’d never get tired of looking at it.”
Ru grinned. “Yes, the big ocean has its appeal.”
Chris pulled out on the highway from the restaurant parking lot. “We’ve got a tail or two. I’m going to confuse them, okay?”
Gray frowned. “Sure. Go for it.”
Pamela patted Gray’s hand. “Don’t they ever leave you alone?”
“Well, it’s worse here since I’m in the limo and staying at the hotel, so they know where to find me. But no, they never let up.”
“My goodness, I wonder if it’s worth it.”
Gray looked at her, startled.
She turned to Ru. “Do you know Gray bought us a lovely home on a lake?”
“Yes, he said you really enjoy it.”
“We do. That view of the water is certainly enticing.”
The limo made a sharp turn into an alley and stopped. Chris watched steadily in the rearview mirror, and they all held their breath. “I think we lost them. If you want to walk through the back, you might be able to escape the paparazzi for a little while.”
Ru grinned, because this was the very way Gray had been sneaking in to stay with him for days. He opened the car door. “Follow me.” He peeked through the gate of Mrs. O’s backyard, and seeing no one, he led them to his back door. Thank God Gray had cleaned up all his stuff earlier.
In the kitchen Charles said, “This is a great place, Ru. Did you pick out all the appliances yourself?”
Funny. Charles barely spoke. It was an interesting choice of comments. “Yes, sir. I enjoy fixing things up. Most everything in the house is old, and I either refinished it myself or got a friend to do it. A few pieces are new, and of course, the kitchen is my modern masterpiece. I found an old slab of driftwood for part of the island.”
“I really like that, Pamela. We should see if we can do something like that.”
Pamela smiled. “Charles is the cook in our family. He took it up after he retired from the fire department.”
Charles grinned. “In my case, I went out of the fire into the frying pan.”
