What the hell is with him? I’m half tempted to go over there and find out.
The man stood there for a long moment, then, much to Mark’s shock, he saluted before going back inside.
That was totally weird. Mark pulled the curtains closed. Then, deciding he had to get out of the apartment so he could think clearly, he grabbed his coat and gloves and left.
* * * *
“Why the hell did I do that?” Austin said under his breath as he closed the balcony door behind him. Maybe because I wanted him to know I’m aware of him?
The problem was, he didn’t know why it mattered, but it did. Perhaps, he decided, watching Mr. Cute and trying to figure out what was going on with him had made his own life more interesting. Against his better judgment he opened the door again to look across at Mr. Cute’s apartment—just in time to see the lights go out.
It’s too early for him to be going to bed. He stepped onto the balcony, getting close enough to the railing to look down at the street without being seen. His nosiness, he supposed, was rewarded when he saw the man leave the apartment building and start walking down the block.
Going for coffee, or a late supper? Mr. Cute was heading in the direction of the small strip mall which had a couple of restaurants, as well as small shops. It was where Austin usually went when he didn’t feel like cooking, so he thought it was possible.
“My chance to meet him?” he murmured, going inside again. “Why would I want to? On the other hand, why not? I’ll probably find out he’s totally not worth my time, but I would like to know if my presumption about his love life is correct.” He chuckled as he went to get his jacket. “I’ve been editing too many damned romances. Dreaming up stories about people I see as a result. Maybe I should start writing some of them down.” He snorted. “Not.”
By the time Austin left his building, Mr. Cute was nowhere in sight. His footsteps are, though. He saw them in the fresh snow when he looked across the street. “Big time tracker is me,” he said under his breath as he crossed the street and began following them. He almost lost them two blocks later when they mingled with those of other people who had braved the mid-evening snowfall. Then he saw the man a block ahead of him, going into the same coffee shop he favored in the mall.
* * * *
“I’d like a…” Mark studied the list of coffees, glad there weren’t many customers, so he wasn’t holding up a line of people while he tried to make up his mind. “Is the maple latte good?”
The clerk nodded. “Different, and not my favorite, but people seem to like it.”
“Maybe I should stick with my usual Americano.”
“Try the mocha espresso,” someone said from behind him. “That is if you like chocolate.”
“Who doesn’t?” Mark replied as he turned to see who was speaking. “You,” he said, more than a bit disconcerted. “Are you following me?”
The man shrugged. “Yes, and no.”
“Hardly a definitive answer.”
“I saw you heading this way and decided I wanted coffee to ward off the cold.”
“Uh-huh. Try again.” Mark paused to tell the clerk he wanted a large Americano. “I’ve seen you watching me,” he told the man. “It’s creepy.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it to be,” the man replied. “I have a bad habit, I guess you could call it, of making up stories about people I see.”
Mark scowled. “By window peeping?”
“Hey. That’s not what I’m doing,” the man protested. “My building faces yours. Some people there don’t close their curtains, so I see things.” He held up his hand to stop Mark from saying anything. “One, no bedrooms face me, so I’m not prying that way. If a curtain is open, and you have a habit of not closing yours, then like I said, I make up stories for myself about what I see.” He smiled ingratiatingly. “In your case, I’d say you lead a pretty dull life.”
Mark puffed out a breath before admitting, “Yeah, pretty much.”
The clerk returned with his coffee at that point, so he paid and stepped aside to let the man place his order for, not too surprisingly, a mocha espresso. “I’m a bit of a chocoholic,” the man said, smiling.
Nodding, Mark went over to one of the comfortable chairs in the seating area in one corner of the shop. He wasn’t terribly surprised when the man joined him a few moments later, taking the chair facing him.
“I’m Austin, by the way,” the man said. “And I’m quite harmless, I promise.”
Mark hesitated, then said, with a bit of a smile, “I’m Mark and I’m very harmless, not to say boring.”
“From what I’ve seen of you, I guess I can’t argue the point,” Austin replied. “Although you did have a party a few nights ago.”
“Just people who work for me, and their husbands or boyfriends.”
“You own a business?”
“Define business,” Mark replied with a brief grin. “I own a costume shop downtown.”
“Interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever been in one.”
“Most people haven’t, unless they need something for Halloween, or for a company event or a party.”
“But you make enough on it to support yourself and your employees?”
“Yeah. It’s what they call a niche business. When people need us, they come in.” Mark took a drink before asking, “What do you do?”
“I’m an editor.”
“For the newspaper?” Mark asked. “We have a couple of regular customers from there. Photographers who come in when they need something for a photo shoot.”
“Not nearly so exciting. I freelance for some online eBook publishers.”
“I think eBook implies online, doesn’t it?”
Austin chuckled. “That sounds like a comment I’d make in a manuscript if an author phrased it that way.”
“Hmm. Maybe I have a second career in the offing, if the costume shop goes under.”
“Is it likely to?”
“Not really,” Mark replied. “I’ve owned it for eight years and it’s still there.”
“You’re kidding. How old are you? I figured maybe early thirties.”
“Thirty-six, so you weren’t too far off.” Mark studied Austin. “You’re, best guess, almost forty?”
“Close. Thirty-eight.”
Mark nodded. “A year younger than my ex.”
“You’re ex?”
“Well, he will be, if I get up the nerve to break it off with him, and why am I telling you this?”
“Because I’m a good listener?”
“Most nosy people are. It’s how they learn things,” Mark replied sardonically before finishing the last of his coffee. Standing, he buttoned his coat, getting ready to leave.
“Ouch,” Austin muttered, making quick work of finishing his espresso. “Does that mean you’d rather I don’t walk back with you?”
Mark looked at him and shrugged. “I’m okay with it, if you stop prying.”
“I will, I promise. I didn’t mean it to sound as if I were. I just find people interesting.”
“Says the man who hides away in his apartment, living vicariously through the books he edits.”
“What makes you think I’m hiding away there?” Austin asked as he zipped up his jacket and followed Mark out onto the sidewalk.
“A guess, maybe. This is the first time I’ve seen you except on your balcony.” Other than the night of the party, but I don’t think he’d like me telling him I saw him then. Not from his reaction to the car crash.
“I could spend all day going hither and yon,” Austin retorted. “Since you’re at work, you wouldn’t know.”
Mark cocked his head to look at him. “True, but I don’t think you do.”
With a wry smile, Austin admitted he didn’t. Mark was tempted to ask why. He thought better of it, because it would be prying and he’d just chastised Austin for doing it.
Given the cold and snow, they made fast work of walking back to their buildings. Mark said goodnight, getting one in return, t
hen went into the lobby, stamping the snow off his feet before getting on the elevator. An instant before the doors closed, he saw Austin standing where he’d left him, watching him, he thought. Strange man. Nice enough, I guess, but definitely strange.
* * * *
Austin was watching Mark, but with only half his concentration. He was also remembering Jon. Once, not too long before the accident that had killed his lover, they had promised each other if anything happened to one of them, the survivor would move on with their life. That had been two years ago and in some ways, Austin had. He’d moved from the city where he and Jon had lived, needing to get away from all the memories. He had a new life, now. As cloistered as it is. No friends, very few acquaintances, if you don’t count the authors and publishers I work with. Very distant ones who know nothing about me. Could I be friends with Mark? Would he let it happen? Do I want it to? All questions for which he had no answers—at the moment.
Chapter 5
The following morning, Mark awoke to sunshine. A quick check of the weather on the morning news told him while it might be sunny; the temperature was still going to stay below freezing. He dressed accordingly, in jeans, a turtleneck, and a sweater. He was halfway through breakfast when he remembered the voicemail from Todd.
“Damn it to hell.” He had a brief, if impractical thought about calling a locksmith to rekey the locks on his door. Could I really do that? If I did, he’d wait outside until I got home, which wouldn’t solve the problem. He’d want to know why I did it. Mark could imagine replying, “There’ve been a couple of break-ins in the building, so I figured better safe than sorry.” Like he’d believe me.
“Bite the damned bullet,” he said angrily as he dumped what was left of his breakfast down the garbage disposal—having lost his appetite. “Quit being a coward. I’m only prolonging things if I don’t end it tonight.”
An hour later, he unlocked the door to the costume shop, still wondering how he was going to handle seeing Todd when he showed up that evening.
“You look like you’re ready to kill someone,” Norma commented, coming up beside him.
“Or myself,” he muttered, holding the door open for her, and Sara, who appeared seconds later, before closing and locking it again.
“He called,” Norma replied with some asperity.
“Left a message, because I didn’t answer his calls,” Mark told her as they went to the back of the shop to hang up their outerwear and get ready for work. “He’s due in today.”
“Did you call him back to say you were too busy to see him?” Sara asked.
“No. Why bother? I know him. He’ll still show up at my place.” He smiled sourly. “I went for a walk instead, to try and think things out, and ended up at the coffee shop near my place.”
“And got hit on by a cute server?” Sara grinned. “He took you home and made hot love to you.”
“Not hardly.” He paused to straighten a couple of costumes on one of the racks before saying casually, “I did meet a guy who lives in the building across the street from me.”
Norma and Sara asked at the same time, “Is he handsome?” and “A nice guy?”
“He’s not bad looking,” Mark replied to Norma’s question. “And he seems nice enough, I guess. A bit nosy, but…” He shrugged, going to unlock the front door and turn the sign to Open.
“So, are you going to see him again?” Norma wanted to know.
The next time he comes out on his balcony. Mark chuckled to himself. “Hard to tell,” he replied. “I mean I’m sure I’ll see him, but not the way you mean. We talked is all, killing time while we drank our coffees.”
“Straight or gay?” Sara looked at him in question.
“That never came up, so I haven’t a clue.”
Norma rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Mark, you’re hopeless.”
“Give me a break. It’s been years since I was in a position even care,” he grumbled. “But enough of this. We have work to do, starting with dressing the mannequins for the window, now that you’ve got the basic decorations up, Norma, and their costumes chosen. I’ll help you.”
“And I’ll go make more, to replace them,” Sara said before going back to her workshop.
The rest of the day passed as they usually did, including helping a few customers who had braved the cold weather to come into the shop.
* * * *
As Mark parked in his space behind the apartment building, he girded his loins for what he knew would happen next. He hoped, no prayed, that Todd wasn’t waiting in the apartment. At least give me a few minutes to relax and start supper before you show up. Relaxing wouldn’t happen. He was too keyed up, wondering if he could put an end to his affair with Todd. Or do as always, when he appears, greet him with open arms and a kiss.
His luck held, for the moment at least. Todd wasn’t waiting in the apartment. Mark went to change into an old pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Going into the kitchen, he tried to decide what, if anything, he’d fix for supper. Maybe not having something ready would be the best idea. Like I’m not in the mood to cook for him.
He didn’t get a chance to decide one way or the other because there was a knock on the door, followed by the sound of a key in the lock. By the time he got into the living room, the door opened and Todd came in. He closed the door, put down his carry-on bag, then walked over to hug Mark.
“Miss me?” Todd asked, before kissing him.
His pulse pounding as it always did when he was in Todd’s arms, Mark almost responded to the kiss. Instead, he steeled his resolve, breaking away.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Todd asked, obviously upset.
“We need to talk,” Mark replied, starting across the room toward the sofa.
“About?”
Taking a deep breath, Mark said, “About us. About you presuming I’ll always drop everything to be with you when you come into town. About the fact you never ask if it’s…convenient I guess, for you to show up whenever you want to.”
Todd seemed puzzled. “It always has been, and it’s not like I drop in unannounced.”
“True. You warn me first,” Mark replied. “But you never ask if it’s okay. You only presume it is. If you really loved me, you wouldn’t do that.”
“What the hell? Of course I love you,” Todd said, crossing to where Mark was standing. He gripped Mark’s arms. “How can you think otherwise, after all these years?”
Mark pulled away, looking hard at Todd. “If you did, you’d ask Janice for a divorce so we could be together all the time, not just when the mood hits you.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Todd replied angrily. “I have kids. I don’t want to be separated from them.”
“No, what you want is to have your cake and eat it too.” Mark stomped over to the window, turned and looked at him. “A wife, a family, and your piece on the side whenever you want to fuck a man.” He had a sudden thought. “Am I the only guy you use this way?”
“Yes!” Todd spat out. “I mean, you’re the only man in my life.” He moved toward Mark as he said, “I’m not using you. I love you. I tell you that every time we’re together.”
“Words are easy. Proving you mean it…Well, the more I think about it, the more I realize you haven’t.” When Todd reached for him, Mark quickly stepped to one side to avoid his touch.
“You’re not being fair,” Todd said, lowering his arm. He scowled at Mark. “Stop being an idiot.”
“Me, an idiot? Yeah, maybe I am, for still believing you care anything about me other than the fact I let you screw me.”
* * * *
Oh boy. Trouble in paradise? Austin had gone out to stand on his balcony, needing to get some fresh air after being inside all day. He watched as the man he had presumed was Mark’s lover came into view. Mark was standing by the window—or had been until the man reached for him. Then he’d moved. To Austin it looked as if he was trying to get away from the man.
Without a thought for the consequences, Austin went ins
ide, grabbed a jacket from the closet, then left the apartment. Crossing the street a minute later, he went into the entryway of Mark’s building. He looked at the bank of buttons for the tenants. Okay, I don’t know his last name but…yeah, this has to be him. Only one button had an ‘M’ before the surname. He pushed it.
* * * *
The buzzer sounded. Mark strode across the room to answer, not caring who it was. The fact someone had pushed the button at all had given him a chance to move farther away from Todd and what was happening.
“Who is it?” Mack said into the speaker.
“Austin. Can I come up?”
Instead of replying, Mark pressed the button to unlock the building’s front door.
“Who the hell is Austin?” Todd asked, anger infusing his words.
“A friend.” Mark managed to give him a sardonic smile. “Yeah, Todd, I do have some. Your belief to the contrary, I do have some.”
“And you accused me of playing around,” Todd growled out.
“What’s good for the goose,” Mark replied, lying but hoping Todd couldn’t tell that he was.
“You sneaky little bastard.”
“Me? I’m not the one with a wife I’m playing around on,” Mark replied just as Austin knocked on the door. He opened it to let him in.
* * * *
Austin took in the situation, seeing the anger on both men’s faces. “Did I come at the wrong time, Mark?”
“Not at all,” Mark replied. “Todd was about to leave. Right, Todd?”
“Wrong. I’m not going until I find out what’s going on with you,” Todd replied, crossing his arms.
Taking a deep breath, Mark said, “It’s over. We’re over. I don’t ever want to see you again. I’m tired of being your dirty little secret.”
“You’re not!” Todd protested.
Mark scowled at him. “Couldn’t prove it by me.”
“Mark…I love you. Please give me time.”
“I’ve given you five years of my life and nothing’s changed. I’m not wasting one more minute on you.”
The Man on the Balcony Page 3
