Mateo blinked, swallowed, and said, “You know you are never going to get me out of here. I’m going to be an incessant pest till the end of time.”
Dmitri nodded gravely. “Is good.”
When Vicky and Sharon asked to talk to him, Dmitri assumed it was something to do with their upcoming trip to the April Follies, and the rapidly-approaching Gay Games. They closed the door behind them, sat in the guest chairs, and looked nervous. He wondered if they’d decided not to go. Before he could ask, Vicky said, “Remember that time you were talking about how, back in the day, you and Patrick wanted to adopt?”
That conversation was more than a year in the past, and had certainly not occurred at the dance studio. He turned his head a few degrees, eyes narrowed, wondering why in the world they were bringing this up. “Yes.” It sounded like a question.
“Stay with us here,” Vicky said.
Sharon got to the point. “My biological clock went off. And we’ve been wracking our brains trying to come up with a way to do this. We know all these fantastic men.”
“Truly fantastic,” Vicky agreed. “But not everybody’s in the right place. Oh my God sweetie he’s so confused,” she said to Sharon. Then, to Dmitri, “I’m sorry. We want to go to the clinic and get pregnant. We need a donor, and we don’t want just anybody. We don’t want Test Tube Number Twenty-three-B. We want a friend, preferably someone fantastic. And awesome. Like you.”
“Specifically you,” Sharon added. “Because you’re awesome and fantastic, but also because of what Patrick said that time.”
The women did not say ‘would you,’ only stared at him hopefully. Dmitri blinked, drew in a slow breath, and said carefully, “I would be honored.”
Sharon started crying. Vicky grabbed her and said something into her hair that sounded like ‘oh shit.’ It was a minute before she surfaced, slightly flushed and suspiciously bright-eyed. “So do you need to talk it over with Patrick? Because there are tests and things. We thought maybe we could do those after the Follies, and then if everything checks out we could go back after the Games and do the thing. Is that reasonable?”
“Is reasonable.” Dmitri was deeply grateful, in that moment, for his habit of control. What he wanted to do was seize them, cover them with kisses, and generally embarrass all of them. He and Patrick had long since let that wish go, the wish to have a child. To think they could do it now, when he’d finally achieved the championship dream and might even be a useful co-parent, was almost beyond his stoicism. “I will speak with Patrick.”
“Okay.” Vicky gulped a little. Sharon was sniffling. “Uh, we have to go practice. Or something. Talk to you later.” Vicky hauled her partner out of the office, very considerately closing the door again.
Dmitri sat quietly for a minute, re-living that conversation, controlling his breath. It was the closest he’d been to tears since his wedding day. My dear love, he thought, smiling. He located his phone and sent a text: Patrick my dearest. Vicky and Sharon want to have a child with us. They have asked me to be the donor. We will talk later. Je t’aime
A reply was waiting at the end of his day, when he went back into the office to wrap things up. Je t’aime aussi and wow their timing is kind of great isn’t it? This is TERRIFIC. So happy for you. Happy for us!! See you at home XOX
The trickiest thing going forward was to not spill the beans all over the neighborhood before there were any real beans to spill. Dmitri suspected that Sam and Mateo figured it out, which was probably inevitable given the trip to Oakland for the April Follies. His four Olympians were in close quarters for a lot of hours, and of the four, only Sam was not a talker. But they all kept a lid on it at Shall We Dance. This was the kind of thing to share after it was, in Patrick’s words, a done deal.
The Emerald Ball was, again, a big event for Shall We Dance. Not quite as big, since Dmitri and Michelle weren’t entered this time. They’d been to Nashville earlier that month and were going to Chicago in June. Elena was taking some pro-am students to Emerald, as was Dmitri. Julia was taking Mateo’s boyfriend Sam into the pro-am Latin championship, and more students into other events. She and Ray were going to make their Rising Star Latin debut at the Columbia Star Ball very soon, so they’d be coming back the following night to check out some of their competition.
Mateo and Yolanda were competing in the Rising Star Rhythm event this evening. If they didn’t make the final this time, they were going to call it quits. Dmitri knew that if that happened, Mateo and Elena would go forward. They’d done a tryout for him, using the same routines Mateo was dancing with Yolanda. Elena was already a better partner for him. She told Dmitri that Tony – who worked on the Ovation series ‘Live Work Dance’ – meant to make a documentary about their partnership. Along with that, a warning. “Tony’s probably going to ask for the video records of our campaign. If you still have that stuff.”
Dmitri did, of course. It could be very instructive to look back at what didn’t work. Enough time had passed that he could probably view those tapes objectively. He wondered what Tony would think.
“Tell me truly,” he said to Patrick once they were back home, undressed, showered, and ready for bed. “About Elena, as a partner. Was I wrong?” He meant ‘to take her on,’ trusting that Patrick would fill in the rest as he reliably did.
Patrick blinked, thought for a minute, and decided the answer was “No. If you had said no, she would have gone out with somebody else, and whoever that guy was might have ruined her. It might have been someone like that creep who hit Julia last year. And something even worse could have happened, as little and cute as she is. I think if she had to crash and burn, you were the best possible partner for her to crash with.” Dmitri gave him a look that said about six different things. Patrick cracked up. “I know! But come on! You are not the guy who would put her in harm’s way, or harass her, or whatever. You did your absolute best with her and for her. I’m sure when Tony sees the tapes he’ll agree. After all, she came back to you,” he added, when Dmitri still seemed unconvinced.
That was true. Dmitri hadn’t thought of it quite that way. She could have found another job last year. Accepting his offer was not her only option. “If Tony asks to speak with you, what will you say.” He was smiling.
“Oh, well, I’ll tell him I have no opinion about dancing, couldn’t give a shit about dancing,” Dmitri was laughing now, “and only come by the studio in the hopes of seeing you in those tight pants. Which is absolutely true.” The last word was almost a squeal, because Dmitri was pouncing on him.
The next month felt easy to Patrick. Dmitri wasn’t traveling, he and Michelle weren’t changing their routines, Elena and Julia had the studio under control. There were days when Dmitri was home by six, or didn’t have to leave the house before Patrick. The only way it could have been better, realistically, was if he had someone else to cover the Sunday classes and the weekday-evening group classes. After the second title – please God, let them win – the coaching fees could be increased again and then maybe he’d feel like he could afford that extra body for those few hours a week. Patrick kept telling him they were doing fine. The accounting business was growing year over year; he’d had to acquire more space in the small office building they occupied. Patrick’s rates kept going up, and he saw no reason not to work whatever crazy hours he wanted to when Dmitri wasn’t home anyway.
Plus, after Chicago, there wasn’t another trip out of state for competition until September. And that one was to Hawaii. They hadn’t been there for years. If Patrick couldn’t turn that into a mini-vacation, he was losing his touch.
Patrick’s friend Paul was going out of town soon. He mentioned it at dinner, having invited Patrick and Dmitri to see a thing he was working on, a 1:12 scale miniature room. It was a hobby he’d abandoned for a while, for reasons nobody needed to mention. “I’m going to a show,” he said. “For this project, I want a nice picture to hang on the wall. There’s a fine-art miniatures show in Stockton, in June.”
�
��Wine country in June,” Patrick said. “Sounds fabulous. Need any company?”
Paul laughed. He laughed more now - in spite of everything - and especially when he was with Patrick. They’d been spending more time as friends: a drink after work, the occasional dinner like this, more often only the two of them because of Dmitri’s schedule. “Of course you’re welcome,” Paul said, and mentioned the dates. “Where will Dmitri be?”
Dmitri had to consult the calendar on his phone. “We go to Chicago.” He glanced sideways at Patrick. “You will like Stockton better.”
Patrick laughed under his breath. He’d gone along to the last competition, and he really would like Stockton better than Chicago. “It’ll be good when you and Michelle win again,” he said. Dmitri had already told Patrick that if he and Michelle did win the World Professional Smooth championship a second time, he would retire from competition. Patrick wanted them to win because he thought they should, but also because he wanted Dmitri to be at home again. He didn’t say ‘because I miss you’ right now, because he at least still had Dmitri and Paul didn’t still have Bob. “What kind of wine should I bring home?”
Dmitri looked gloomy. “All of it,” he said. Patrick and Paul both laughed.
So in June, Paul swung by to pick up Patrick for the drive to Lodi. They had rooms reserved at a small hotel called Wine & Roses, and Patrick arranged for a chauffeur-driven wine tour so he didn’t have to bother getting himself around. They had dinner together the first night, and on Saturday Paul went to the show in Stockton by himself.
Patrick hadn’t been on a trip like this without Dmitri for a long time. It was strange, in both good ways and bad. On the one hand, it beat hanging out in yet another hotel listening to yet more hours of loud music, watching countless rounds of dancing yet again. He was out in the open air most of the day, in a beautiful landscape, with nothing to do but chat with people and taste (drink) a lot of wine. On the other hand, at the end of the day he’d be sleeping alone, and he kind of hated that. And he knew that Dmitri, even after all these years, really appreciated having Patrick with him. He would send a text later, so Dmitri would know Patrick was thinking of him. As it happened, that text was a news flash: Hi honey, amazeballs news, Paul met someone at this show and invited him to dinner!! Seems nice, artist, yoga teacher, lives in LA and sounds like George Takei. Think he’s Korean. How’d it go tonight?
A reply came in a half-hour later, when Patrick was already in bed and very close to dropping off. We won. Did you buy wine?
Congratulations. SO MUCH WINE
Good. Did you save some for me?
He was such a wise-ass sometimes. Oh har de har. Hic. Plenty to share tomorrow night. You’ll be home right?
Yes. Take an aspirin before you go to sleep
Yes boss. Congratulations again and love you always. Patrick never got tired of saying so.
Je t’aime aussi, bonne nuit mon cheri
Good night sweetheart. Patrick put down the phone, went obediently to find an aspirin, and then got back in bed and almost instantly fell asleep.
He did not inquire, the next day, if Paul’s new friend Kevin had spent the night, or if they would see each other again. That was squarely none of his business. He was too busy, anyway; all the way home he was tied up on the phone dealing with a client’s collapsing business. It wasn’t until he was helping Patrick carry cases of wine into the house that Paul said, “I think I might see Kevin again.”
Patrick glanced at Paul’s face, kept his own pleasantly neutral, and said, “Good.” Then he thought that’s not enough because there was a hint of anxiety there. “It’s not too soon,” he said. “You had five years to say goodbye to Bob.” It was blunt, but maybe that was the right approach. Paul’s expression cleared. Patrick said, “Thanks for this weekend. I’ll see you at the office.”
“Thanks for your company. See you tomorrow,” Paul said, and turned to go. Patrick waved as he drove away. Then he went inside to find somewhere to put all the hooch, thinking about how, exactly, he wanted to welcome his champion home.
Chapter 8
August 2014
Any trip out of town with Dmitri had its attractions. This one was a total blast. Patrick had said ‘yes’ to going along to the Gay Games in Cleveland almost before the suggestion was out of his husband’s mouth. Four of Dmitri’s students were entered in the Dance Sport events. Patrick had known Sam and Mateo, the studio’s Latin couple, ever since they started training at Shall We Dance. Dmitri had always wanted a strong same-sex couple to represent the studio somewhere. It could have been in ballroom, swing, salsa, or Argentine tango; he didn’t care which. His Standard couple, Vicky and Sharon, were not quite as strong. They didn’t dance as often, or as hard, as Sam and Mateo. But they’d been taking lessons together for years, they’d both done pro-am with Dmitri, and he was confident they would acquit themselves well. Vicky had, he thought, untapped talents as a dancer. She’d been cast in the troupe for a major dance concert. Mateo and Sam both were as well. And because Mateo was assisting with choreography for the troupe, a lot of the numbers were rehearsed at Shall We Dance. Dmitri played one of them for Patrick after they arrived and settled into their room. “See what they do.”
Patrick watched the video for a minute, glanced up at Dmitri, then watched the rest. It was set to ‘Run Boy Run.’ “Who’s meant to be on the inside of all those spears?”
“Mary Bassey.” Dmitri had a link for that too. One of the show’s stars had been a finalist on the UK edition of ‘So You Think You Can Dance.’ She was beautiful, black, six feet tall, and a total powerhouse. “She plays Grendel and his mother.”
“Holy cannoli. No wonder Vicky’s all charged up about being in this show.” Dmitri smiled. Patrick took him by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “I can’t wait to see them dance. You’ve wanted to come to this thing ever since you found out about it, haven’t you?” Dmitri made a sound of assent. Ballroom may have been the dark secret of the dance world, but gay Dance Sport was unknown even to many ballroom competitors. Vicky was the first of Dmitri’s students to show any interest.
The first night of competition was the most exciting – and among the loudest – Patrick had ever seen. The competition floor was packed for both men’s and women’s Standard divisions. Everyone in the room was either out and proud, or supporting someone who was. Friends, family, athletes from other sports: everyone was cheering for everyone. There were rainbows everywhere. It was heart-wrenchingly joyous.
They had good seats on the mezzanine, with their video camera on a tripod between them. Vicky and Sharon were easy to spot (despite the crowd in their first round) thanks to Vicky’s height, and the vivid marine-blue costumes from their friend Kenji’s shop. “She does not crash,” Dmitri said with satisfaction.
“A good leader, isn’t she?” Patrick would have guessed that height was an advantage. But there was more to it. Sharon was smiling, sometimes obviously laughing. Vicky was making sure she had a good time, even in those moments when they were barely moving because of a traffic jam. This round took forever. Because the Standard dances all traveled – and thus took up a lot of space – the round was split into two heats. When the floor finally cleared and the first heat of the men’s Standard event walked on, Patrick said, “Jesus wept,” and Dmitri laughed out loud. There were even more men than women.
The call-back results for the semifinal were obvious. Sharon’s reaction was unmistakable: jumping up and down, then throwing herself into Vicky’s arms. That round went a lot faster, with all thirteen semifinal couples on the floor at once. Everyone was used to the floor now, and some of the international competitors were more aggressive. “Too cautious,” Dmitri murmured, watching Vicky get boxed in. The wait through the men’s semifinal seemed long. Again the women’s call-back result was obvious: Sharon and Vicky turned to each other, shrugged, and smiled. Then they walked away, hand in hand. Dmitri made a low sound, disappointed for them.
“Oh dammit,”
Patrick said. “They didn’t get through, did they.” He pulled out his phone to send a text, thinking the women probably wouldn’t see it until much later: Great job tonight. The boss is super proud
He was surprised to get a reply halfway through the women’s final: Thanks Patrick, God that was fun, give Dmitri a kiss for us. He spotted Vicky across the floor; she and Sharon were watching the final, clapping and cheering for their erstwhile competitors.
They stayed in their seats to the very end, supporting the final-round competitors, then went down to see the score sheets. Vicky and Sharon placed eighth out of all those couples, and Dmitri truly was proud. “That was highly satisfactory,” Patrick said as they were washing up. “And we have a day to do nothing.”
“Not nothing,” Dmitri said. They’d had a quick, late dinner in the bar before coming up to their room. Now they were stripped, clean, and free of obligations for the next eighteen hours. “I owe you a dance.” He came up behind Patrick and kissed his neck, one arm wrapping around, thumb stroking the bottom of his husband’s rib cage.
“Oh,” Patrick said, a little breathless. “You know, I think you do.” Dmitri laughed against his skin.
The Latin events were on the following night. The women’s Latin was not quite as full as the women’s Standard, and the officials opted to run a single heat for the first round. Then it was time for the men’s Latin, and even Dmitri seemed slightly shocked. “So many,” he said.
“They will not be throwing their tricks unless the heat is split, will they.” Patrick glanced at Dmitri, noting the silent shake of his head. The first dance was cha-cha, and the heat wasn’t split. It was a madhouse out there. Sam was one of the taller leaders, and one of few dark-skinned men; with that and his distinctive long ponytail, they managed to keep him in sight. It looked like Mateo was cracking up almost all the way through. Then there was mercy: as in the Standard events, the heat was split so that only half the competitors would be on the floor at once. They all got to do their cha-cha again, and then the other four dances, alternating with the other half of the competitors.
Change Partners (The L.A. Stories) Page 13
