At the moment, Mr. Cute was staring at his dining table. Then, with a nod, he moved the chairs to the middle of the room, forming a semi-circle around the coffee table, facing the sofa and armchair. Don’t tell me he’s planning a party. Austin chuckled. Either that or a séance.
He shivered, realizing it was way too cold to keep standing on the balcony, and went back inside.
* * * *
Mark had been aware of the man on the balcony. Again, as had happened the last time he’d seen him, the man seemed to be looking at him. Imagination, he figured, but he still closed the curtains before trying to decide where else people could sit for the party. He’d called Roger, Ellie, and Helena to invite them, and they’d all accepted, with the women asking if it was all right for them to bring their husbands. He’d said of course, which meant there would be ten people, including himself. He hadn’t even considered asking the guy, Bert, who worked at the coffee shop. He didn’t know him well enough to feel comfortable doing so.
Ten people, and only eight places to sit, if you squish three onto the sofa. He eyed the coffee table. It was pretty solid—so maybe turn it into a bench for the evening? He moved the chairs closer together, then set it between two of them. And we have liftoff. He knew he was getting ahead of himself, since it was only Wednesday, but the idea of waiting until the last minute to set everything up was not him. If he had to stumble around the arrangement for a couple of days, so be it.
The pizzas were ordered, set to be delivered around seven-thirty Saturday evening. He planned to pick up the beer on his way home from work, as well a six pack of pop for anyone who didn’t want beer.
Cups, glasses. He raided his kitchen cupboard, glad to see he had more than enough of them, even if they didn’t match. Plates for the pizza were no problem. He had a large package of paper plates he’d gotten on sale the previous Sunday when he’d gone grocery shopping.
“If I need anything else, I’m shit out of luck,” he muttered as he put all the dishes on the table. “Now all I have to do is stay calm and pretend I throw parties every week.”
He went into the kitchen to refill his coffee cup before sitting down to watch whatever he could find on TV that wouldn’t make him brain-dead. Not an easy task, he decided, before finally settling on a comedy.
Halfway through, his phone rang. When he saw who it was, his pulse rate accelerated as he answered.
“Hey, you,” Todd said. “I can get away Friday to come out there. Janice is taking the kids to visit her family. You know how much I dislike her parents, and vice versa, so…”
Mark took a deep, if silent, breath. I can do this. I can. I have to. “That’s great,” he replied. “There’s only one problem. I’m going to be busy this weekend.”
There was a long, pregnant pause. Then Todd asked, “Doing what?”
“Some stuff with friends. A party, actually.” He purposely didn’t say he was the one throwing it.
“Oh, really?” Todd’s voice was chilly, to put it mildly. “Anyone I know?”
Mark resisted snorting, since Todd hadn’t met any of the people he worked with, even when he had still been living in the city. “I doubt it. Just people from work, plus a few others.” The truth, since the women were bringing their spouses or boyfriends. “One of them broke up with their boyfriend, so it’s a freedom party.”
“Okay. Sounds like fun…not. Maybe I can get out there within the next couple of weeks.”
“Sure. That would be great.”
“Hey, are you okay?” Todd asked. “You sound…I don’t know.”
“I’m fine, just tired,” Mark lied. “It was a busy day. You should be tired, too. It’s late there.”
“Yeah. I’m about to head to bed. I’ll call you next week.”
“Great. Sleep well.” Inane reply, but I am not going to say ‘I love you’. I do, but if I’m going to end this, I need to start now.
“I will. You, too. I wish…Never mind. Night.”
Mark almost asked what he wished, biting down on his lip to keep silent. “Night,” he replied, and hung up.
I did it. I know it’s for the best but still…Now, all I have to do is keep coming up with more reasons why he shouldn’t come out here—when he calls again. And pray he gets the message before I give in and let him. He knew it was possible he would give in. After all the time we’ve been together, it’s going to be hard not to. But I have to think of myself, for once. If we do break things off, I can begin living a real life again. What is it they say? Keep the goal in front of you and you’ll reach it, or something like that.
It was fine, telling himself what he planned to do was for the best. But right this moment, he wasn’t certain he believed it. He felt an ache in his heart, and almost wished he could call Todd back to say he should come out, telling him he’d decided not to go to the party—then telling his guests he’d decided to cancel it.
“No, damn it. Not happening!” Even though he felt bereft, he still managed to chuckle. “Norma would give me a ration of shit and then some.”
Turning off the TV, he finished the last dregs of his coffee, rinsed his cup and set up the coffeemaker to brew a fresh pot in the morning, then went to bed. It took a while to fall asleep, since he kept remembering the good times with Todd, while reminding himself they didn’t outweigh the fact Todd would never be his—but eventually he did.
Chapter 3
“Are we holding a séance?” Sara asked when she and her current boyfriend arrived at Mark’s place Saturday night.
“That bad, huh?” Mark said, glancing at the seating arrangement.
“Not bad, just…interesting,” Sara replied. “Where do we put our coats?”
“Umm, in the bedroom I guess.” Mark gestured toward the door.
Moments later, he heard the buzzer again and answered. It was Norma and her steady boyfriend, so he let them in—as well as Helena and her husband, and Roger. Mark had barely closed the door when someone else buzzed. A couple of minutes later, Ellie and her husband got off the elevator and walked down the hallway.
“Are we the last ones?” Ellie asked when they were in the apartment—after introducing her husband.
Mark nodded, suggesting as he had with the others, they put their coats in the bedroom. By then, Roger had decided he’d play bartender, handing out beers to anyone who wanted one—which turned out to be everyone, making Mark glad he’d bought two cases.
“Where’s the music?” Ellie asked. She answered her own question when she saw the CD player on a shelf, along with a variety of CDs. She picked one and started it playing.
“The big question is, where’s the pizza?” Norma said. “We were promised pizza, and lots of it.”
“Hold your horses, impatient one. It’ll be here in—” Mark checked the time, “—ten minutes.”
She gasped. “You mean you didn’t make them? I’m horrified.”
“You’d be more horrified if I had,” Mark replied, grinning.
By then, everyone had settled in, having rearranged the chairs into a less rigid formation. Mark sipped his beer, beginning to relax since everyone seemed comfortable. Not that they wouldn’t be. I guess I had host jitters. Hell, I know I did.
He was about to sit as well when Norma took his arm, nodding toward the kitchen. When they were there, she asked, “Any word from your soon to be ex?”
“Umm, yeah. I didn’t tell you because, well…” Mark sucked in a breath.
“Yes?” She looked hard at him.
“I didn’t want you making a big thing of it.”
“Me? I wouldn’t do that.”
Mark chuckled. “Like hell. Anyway, he called to say he was coming out this weekend and I told him I was busy and he sort of took that in stride I guess and said he’d call again soon when he could arrange to come out and, well, that’s where it stands,” he said, all in one breath.
She nodded. “What happens when he does call?”
“I don’t know. I’ll figure out something.”
“You could always tell him you met someone new,” Norma suggested. She pointed a finger at him. “If you’d invited, umm, Bert, from the coffee shop, it wouldn’t really be a lie.”
Mark shrugged. “I don’t know him well enough. Besides which, he’s too young, so I didn’t.”
“What are you two doing?” Sara asked, joining them.
“Discussing what other excuses Mark can use when the soon to be ex love of his life decides to show up again.”
“Was he going to come out this weekend?” Sara said.
“Yep. I put him off,” Mark replied.
Sara wrapped her arm around his waist. “I’m proud of you.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Mark admitted. “I almost called him back.”
Norma smiled. “But you didn’t. That’s what counts. The first step is always the hardest.”
Mark was about to agree when he heard the buzzer. “Pizza’s here,” he announced after he answered it. He almost felt sorry for the kid when he came down the hallway a couple of minutes later carrying four extra-large pizza boxes. Sorry enough to tip him handsomely after the kid had set them on the table. “Okay, everyone, dig in,” he said when the kid was gone.
* * * *
Austin stood at his front window, watching Mr. Cute’s apartment. Well, this is a first. Or at least a first since I moved here. He meant the fact there were a lot of people in Mr. Cute’s apartment. Interesting. None of them is the man I’ve seen there before. Did they break up or was I right? He’s a married man who can’t be seen in public with Mr. Cute.
“Why the hell am I standing here, watching other people living their lives? I should get out of here and…and take a walk.”
Not a bad idea, he decided. He’d been cooped up inside much too long—by choice, not necessity. He was a loner, enjoying his own company much more than being with other people. Or so he’d convinced himself, soon after moving to the city two years ago.
Fresh air, sunshine. Okay, moonshine. Stretch my legs. Maybe get some coffee. He shook his head with amusement at the idea he needed some. He lived on coffee. So a different coffee. Something exotic.
With that thought in mind, he got his jacket and gloves and headed out.
Ten minutes later he was wondering what insanity had induced him to face the frigid night. Especially since the coffee shop he usually frequented was closed. Turning around, he started home. He was almost there when he heard a sound he knew all too well—two cars colliding. Clenching his hands, he turned to look, knowing he shouldn’t. Thankfully, the drivers were already out of their cars, examining what turned out to be minor damage to their fenders. It didn’t stop him from remembering another crash—and the death of Jon, the man he had loved. Not that he’d been in the car when it happened. They’d been moving to their new home, so he’d been following Jon in the rental truck. He’d watched in horror when a van had sped through a red light, slamming into Jon’s car. The driver had survived—Jon hadn’t.
“Breathe,” he whispered, willing himself to relax as he turned away and walked the last block to the apartment building. He knew, as he entered his place and took off his jacket, he had find something to take his mind off the past. Thankfully, there was a manuscript which needed his attention. Booting up his computer, he set to work—and stayed with it until he was bleary-eyed and so tired he almost fell asleep sitting up. Only then did he close the file, shut down the computer, and go to bed, praying he wouldn’t dream.
* * * *
Everyone at Mark’s party had heard the cars crash and immediately gone to the windows to see how bad the accident was.
“Just a fender-bender,” Mark said, relieved it hadn’t been worse. That particular corner had, for whatever reason, seen more than its fair share of bad accidents, although none in the past few weeks. As he watched, he thought he saw a familiar figure. He’s the man from the balcony. At least I think he is, from what little I’ve seen of him. He looks terrified. No, not terrified. More horror-stricken. I wonder why. No one was hurt, or even close to. He got a better view of the man as he walked down the block, before entering the building across the street. Yeah, he’s definitely upset, like it brought back memories. Bad ones. He saw lights come on in the man’s apartment, and for a moment the man was silhouetted against the closed curtains. I was right, it was him.
“You need a fresh beer,” Roger said from behind Mark, handing him a bottle.
And so the party continued, but Mark couldn’t stop wondering about the man on the balcony and why a mere fender-bender had upset him so much.
* * * *
Sunday and Monday, the days the costume shop was closed, passed as they usually did for Mark, with the exception of the fact he had to clean up after the party and put all the furniture back where it belonged. As he did his Sunday grocery shopping, he considered the idea of having another get-together with his friends. Not next weekend, but maybe the following one, and this time I’ll cook rather than ordering pizza.
Tuesday, after the shop was open for business—what there was of it in mid-January—Norma corralled him while he was refilling the displays of masks and other small items they sold.
“We all had a great time Saturday night, so I’m all for doing it again, at my place,” she said.
Mark shot her an amused look. “And here I was going to suggest the same thing, but at my apartment.”
“Nope. If everyone’s willing, we can do it every other week or so, but we’ll share who gets to host. Or, sometimes, go out to a restaurant instead.”
Mark had a thought, and voiced it. “Are you trying to give me reasons to tell Todd I won’t be available if he decides to come out here?”
Giving him an innocent look, she replied, “Would I do that?”
“Uh-huh. In a heartbeat, and honestly, I appreciate it. Of course I’ll be up shit creek if he decides to come out in the middle of the week.”
“Then you plead a headache.” She grinned. Sobering, she said, “If it happens, you tell him we’re too busy getting ready for Mardi Gras. We will be, so it won’t really be a lie.”
“I’m not sure he’d buy it.”
“Mark, the idea is to keep putting him off until he gets the message you’re not interested in him anymore. Hell, like I said Saturday night, tell him you’ve met someone new. That should put an end to things right there.”
“I wish I had the guts to tell him face to face it’s over. But I know the minute I see him I’ll relent and be right back where I am now.”
“I know. Which is why we’ll make certain you’re not available.” She snapped her fingers. “One thing you can do for sure. Don’t answer his calls. If that doesn’t clue him in, nothing will.”
“Or block his number,” Sara said, startling Mark because he hadn’t been aware she was listening.
“What we need to do is find you a new man,” Norma said emphatically.
“Uh-uh. No matchmaking, thank you very much,” Mark replied just as emphatically. “If I can’t find one on my own…” He shook his head.
“It won’t happen if you don’t get out there and look,” Sara pointed out.
“I hate clubs.”
“There are other places to meet men. Like, hmm, coffee shops.” Norma looked pointedly out the window at the one across the street.
“Stop!” Mark said, holding up his hand. “I’m not cruising coffee shops or anywhere else. And before you say it, I’m not going to come on to any of our customers. Look what happened the last time I did. Right now, though, we’d better get back to work. We have less than a month until Mardi Gras. I have to start ordering more masks, lots more of them, and beads and…” He sighed.
“And I’d better get my butt in gear, too,” Sara said. “I have a million ideas for new costumes and they won’t get made while we stand here discussing your love life.”
“Good. Go. I think we’ve talked it to death, anyway,” Mark retorted.
“Leaving me to decorate the front window. Thanks a lot,” Norma grumbled.
“Yep.” Mark laughed. “Holler if you need help.”
“Trust me, I will.”
Chapter 4
Mark looked at the Caller ID, debating whether to answer when he saw Todd’s number. He hadn’t the previous two times his lover had called—once right before he left the shop for the day, the second while he was driving home.
“I can do this,” he said under his breath, putting the phone down on the kitchen counter before going back to fixing supper. It finally went silent, after five rings—the number Mark had programmed in before a call would go to his voicemail.
He waited until after he’d eaten before checking to see if Todd had left a message. He had. It said, Why aren’t you answering, Mark? I’ll be in town tomorrow for a two-day meeting, so I’ll see you tomorrow night. Miss you.
“I knew this would happen,” Mark muttered. “He rarely asks, he always tells and expects me to be happy when he shows up. Now what do I do? Rent a motel room until he’s gone home?”
He started pacing the living room, feeling like a trapped animal. Grow a pair. When he shows up, tell him it’s over. Easier said than done and he knew it. He stopped by the window, staring out but not really seeing anything through the softly falling snow, until a movement on the balcony opposite him caught his eye. The man who lived in the apartment opposite his had come out. Seconds later, he was staring at Mark, or so it seemed, making Mark feel like a bug pinned to a display board.
The Man on the Balcony Page 2
