by Avery Aster
Gillian huffed. “Everyone in town is talking about Blake and you.” Without asking, he took a sip of Miguel’s beer. “Hard to believe you’ve settled down.”
He didn’t care for the way he stressed the word settled. Like Blake was beneath him. His friend was one of, if not the, best catch. Period.
“Ya know, I still think about you.” Gillian winked.
“Bullshit.” One, no one in town talked about him and Blake as a couple because they weren’t an item. Two, Miguel wasn’t really out of the closet yet, so no one could say much about him. Three, no way Gillian Neeson thought about him as he was only capable of thinking about himself.
“I do. At night, alone in my studio, when I’m jacking off, I think back to us last summer. About me coming over in the middle of the night, climbing in that big bed of yours, kissing you, getting under your body.” Gillian ran his arm up a bit too high on his thigh. He was way past grazing.
He pushed his hand away. “All we did was fuck.”
“It wasn’t just a fuck. No. No. No. It was the best…sex…ever. Besides, what else is there? You and I both know gay relationships in this town don’t last.”
“Oh…” He’d never heard anyone admit that one before. “Why’s that?”
“Too many options.” Looking out at the dozens of men who circled them like sharks, he realized Gillian was right. There were many men to choose from. Maybe that was the problem, there’d been too many. The gays were kids in a candy shop, and in this town, it wasn’t possible to have a relationship, at least not a conventional one.
“We had fun,” Miguel complimented, realizing he was being a jerk.
“I mean it. Hands down, bar none…you’re number one, Miggy.”
Why was Gillian pursuing him again? He didn’t care for aggressive bottoms. That’s what he found endearing about Blake. His friend let him lead as the natural dominant. There was none of whatever this dude was trying to serve up right then.
“Maybe you should try a few more guys.”
“You have a nice cock, Miggy.”
“Gracias.” Nothing new there, however that night, he enjoyed the compliment. Returning the favor, he conceded, “You’re a good bottom.” He felt a little cheap for saying it. Almost as if he wasn’t being loyal to Blake, but his friend could go fuck himself as far as he was concerned.
“What else?” Flirting hardcore, Gillian leaned his muscular body against his and licked his lips.
His eyes were blue as Miguel liked. But not the Blake Morgan III blue. The kind which hinted of flecks of gray and sparkled aquamarine hues when he’d blinked. Void of any real life, Gillian’s eyes were a flat navy. The ones where you couldn’t tell where the pupil ended and the iris began, as if painted onto a plastic doll.
“That tight ass of yours milks a dick just right.” Putting blue hues aside and facing facts, Miguel was pissed off by the fact that Blake broke his heart, ten years before and again that night. If Gillian wanted to play with him, as well, someone was going to get hurt, and it wasn’t going to be Miguel. Not anymore. He didn’t believe the ass sitting next to his was all that, not compared to Blake’s, which to his knowledge was still a virgin bottom.
While Gillian rambled, he couldn’t help but think about his friend and his tight body. How Blake had trusted him, allowed him to fist him. God! His warm hole, feeling inside him. That was the most intimate moment of his life. He thought about how he even told him he was in love with him.
“Where’s the famous Mr. Morgan tonight?”
“Huh. Oh, ummm, his place, I imagine.”
“Great. Take me home to yours.”
“¿Esta noche?”
“Right now.”
Gillian stood. He seemed shorter than Miguel remembered.
“Come on.”
“My beer.” He held the glass bottle up and slowly sipped. “I’d like to finish.” It tasted warmer than when he’d first ordered. He picked at the lime wedge, not making eye contact with Gillian.
“The best sex of your life is standing before you…and you’re sipping beer as slow as breast milk.”
“I never said you were the best sex I ever had. You did.” He was over Gillian Neeson long before then. Sure, he could’ve taken him back to The Dupree Club, tied him up and got rough with him, but Gillian would’ve loved it too much. This ginger was easy with his body and his mind? Well, he’d forgotten how shallow, horny, and dumb the guy was—until that moment.
“Don’t play me. You want me. I want you.”
“Ay puta. Get lost.”
“What…did you say?”
“I wouldn’t top you if you were the last piece of ass in Manhattan. Tight or loose, you’re too easy. I wouldn’t even let Brutus take you for a walk if his bladder depended on it.” That should turn Gillian off, for now. He didn’t know what else to say other than, “Adiós.”
“Asshole!” Gillian turned dramatically. Before he went, he brought his mouth back over to Miguel’s right ear and snarled, “That’s always been your problem, Miggy. You’re moody, you care too much about that damn mutt, and you don’t accept our lifestyle for what it is…”
He met Gil’s angry glare and asked, “And what’s that?”
“Just sex.”
“That’s always been your problem, Gil. I want more than just sex.”
“Appears you’ll get a lot more than that with Blake. From what I’ve been hearing, you’ll get the bug, too.”
The bug? He grabbed Gillian’s leather shirt before he could walk off. He stood over him. He didn’t like to use his height as an intimidation tactic, but he did so now. “What did you say?”
“I always knew you were a freak in bed, but I never figured you for a bug chaser, Miggy. You have gone and lost your gay mind.”
The edges of Gillian’s mouth curled up as if he’d let some big reveal out of the bag because clearly his own response was utter shock.
“Blake is negative. We tested together this week.”
“How cute. He may test negative as some poz guys do who aren’t detectable, but he’s poz. You will be, too, if you don’t wrap it up, Miggy. Literally.” Gillian marched off, leaving his jaw hanging wide open.
He slouched back on the stool, feeling as if the air had been sucked out of him, while Gillian’s words reverberated over and over again. Could Blake have tested negative with him, but actually be positive? Rubbing his palms over his face, he closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and tried to make sense of what he’d heard. Gays in the city didn’t joke around about this. It was too taboo.
Think!
He replayed the past few days in his mind. For a second, he took the probability of Blake being positive off the table and asked himself, why would his best friend lie to him about this? Come to think of it, Miguel hadn’t asked, “Are you HIV positive?” when they were at the Exhale Bliss spa. Rather, he just said they’d go get the test, and they did. Negative. He’d dated poz guys in the past; he didn’t discriminate, but he’d double-bagged it. He wasn’t big on sucking cock, so that part didn’t matter. Blake’s cock was the first he’d put in his mouth in years.
Thor was poz. Blake could easily come out about his status. The group wouldn’t turn their back on him. Taddy gave millions for AIDS research every year. HIV wasn’t something to be ashamed of in New York or with their friends.
Why would Blake create his Seven Desires, a list of uninhibited acts, if he was? He’d heard of poz guys who’d re-tested negative. Medically, it was possible with the right pill cocktail. But would he put his health at risk by engaging in oral sex? Though the community had told them they couldn’t get HIV from oral sex, some health experts argued they could. Was that why he wouldn’t let him fuck him?
No. This didn’t make any sense.
Instead, he thought back to his rejection. At first, he questioned if he’d been too rough with him. That wasn’t it. He could tell by the way his friend’s body responded he’d loved it. Blake was a masochist, no doubt.
Their wee
k had been progressing nicely. Opening up more that week than ever before, Miguel became comfortable about his feelings. Then everything seemed to hit the fan when he’d confessed his love.
Surely Blake was comfortable with love. He had to be. He’d gotten married and given his vows in front of hundreds of people. Christ, he’d cried in his arms earlier in the week about the disappointment over his failed marriage and not being able to start a family. None of those actions seemed in line with someone who didn’t want love in their life. Blake Morgan III believed in love. He was romantic; it was who he was.
Diego.
What did that guy do to cause him so much pain? He’d seen sadness on his face for months. Something happened. Diego cheated, that was obvious. But it felt, at least to Miguel, as if the damage was worse than an infidelity. Maybe Diego had fallen in love with another guy?
Shaking his head in confusion, he couldn’t think of anything else other than Blake being positive. He didn’t want to, but he’d love him regardless. HIV or not, it didn’t matter as long as he was okay and knew his friends were there for him. He loved him no less.
He reached in his wallet and placed a ten dollar bill on the bar. There was only one way to find out. Outside, he found his driver and said, “One Worldwide Plaza.” If he couldn’t get the truth from Blake, he’d get it out of Diego.
Eleven traffic lights and eight minutes later, he was at the three-tower, mega-block building situated in Hell’s Kitchen. The Worldwide Plaza was a massive residential and commercial building. With fifty floors, he wasn’t sure which unit Diego owned. Miguel walked into the main security area of Building Number Two.
Behind the hotel-like oak reception desk the guard greeted him.
“Buenas noches,” he replied. “Diego Oalo lives here, but I’m not sure which unit. Can you help me, please?”
The guard cleared his throat. “Mr. Oalo lives in this building. He isn’t in and hasn’t been seen for a few days.”
“Hmm. Do you know when he’ll back?”
“Sorry, no. The police asked the same thing. He must be in demand…aye?” The doorman gave him an annoyed smile.
“¿Policía? Were here? For Diego?” Miguel suddenly felt a spike of adrenaline.
“A few times. First a detective, yesterday in fact, named Shiloh something or another. Then a squad of officers came in today.”
“Do you know why?”
“Nope. Other than Mr. Oalo is a wanted man.”
“Gracias.” Miguel headed out and jumped back in the limo. This was crazy. He had to get to Blake’s apartment.
Upper East Side
Lex invited Taddy to come over after their GeneLynx appointment. She figured Jemma and Massimo would be hungry and want to go out to eat with M2. But her friend declined and headed back to work to finish the press details for Baden Cosmetics. Taddy informed her Warner would be getting back into town the following day, and her schedule needed to be cleared so she could spend time with her man.
When Lex arrived home, she passed Jemma in the lobby. She was off to a party downtown at some Italian Cultural Institute of New York shindig. Notably, her two boyfriends Rocco and Luigi hadn’t flown into New York yet, leaving her to her own mischievous devices.
Looked like her evening would be spent alone with her own two favorite men. She was excited to spend some alone time with them. It would probably be their only evening together until after the wedding.
A sense of home and love filled Lex’s heart as she walked in and spotted Massimo preparing supper. He’d even put M2 to bed.
“Thanks for making dinner.” She stared at him, allowing his gaze to meet hers. His presence alone gave her comfort. She was the luckiest woman in the world.
“My pleasure, bella.” His voice was as silky-smooth as ever. Massimo was suave. He made everything appear so damn easy. The yummy garlic aroma confirmed he knew what he was doing in the kitchen.
She wavered on whether she should tell him, especially when she saw the pity he had for her in his eyes. He knew. “Did Taddy call you?”
“Texted. She told me about the test results, said you were as happy, mad, and confused as ever. How do you feel now?” Massimo set the spoon he was using to stir the tomato sauce on the counter. His forehead rose in inquiry.
“I’d feel better if you apologized to me for thinking the DNA test would come out any different.”
“Scusami, amore mia.” He took her in his arms.
His touch was reassuring. Inhaling his usual muskiness, Lex played with the buttons on his Oxford shirt.
He squeezed her tight. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s bittersweet, I suppose.” She shrugged to hide her feelings. There was a pain and sadness swirling inside her. Lex couldn’t figure out why, but there was.
“Nothing has changed. You, Taddy, and your madre are all okay.”
“You spoke to my mom?” she asked, suddenly feeling worse.
“Sí. Birdie rang here about ten minutes ago. I told her. I thought I’d save you the trouble.”
“What did she say?” Her spirits quieted and she hoped Massimo wouldn’t notice the tremor in her voice. How her mother would respond to this was one thing she was uncertain about. The last thing she wanted the DNA test to do was hurt her mother.
“Your madre sounded relieved and was happy it’s all out in the open. Vive called, too. She said you two are all set for dinner tomorrow at her place.”
“Don’t remind me.” She had yet to deal with her Farnsworth drama. Slipping off her Manolo Blahniks, she grabbed the salad bowl from the counter, gave Massimo a nod, and went into the dining room. He’d even cut the cucumbers in those thin little slices she liked so much. God, he’s good.
Two candles, one at each end of the table, were lit. The overhead lights were dimmed.
Quietly, she took her corner seat at the rectangular table, while her fiancé brought in a plate for each of them and took his seat at the head place setting. Date night. She loved it.
She took a small bite. The pasta not only smelled delicious but tasted good, too.
“Talk to me.” He poured her a glass of Pellegrino then served himself red wine. “What’s going on in your pretty head?”
“Masi, I’m fine.”
“Bella…” He gave her that ‘we have no secrets’ face.
“Oh, all right. I wronged my dad by doing this DNA test. I wish I trusted him more. He’s been dead for almost four years, and I’m still angry with him.”
“Eddie killed himself, left you and Birdie bankrupt. Lex, if anyone has the right to not trust Eddie, dead or alive, it’s you. It’s okay to be mad.”
“It’s not the way he died or what we were left with or without, but his past. Daddy has so many skeletons in that closet, and they keep popping up. What’s next?”
Massimo didn’t say anything, just listened and nodded for her to continue.
“Dad’s gone. It doesn’t matter what I thought about him then or now, does it? Regardless of what my father did, nothing will erase his bad deeds. Nothing. I guess I hoped in some way to make him right, at least with me, in my head. Justify his ways.”
His full lips drew downward into a frown. “Everyone has a past. My padre wasn’t perfect, either. I don’t remember my madre much, but I’m sure she and Birdie could swap stories.” Massimo’s father, the late King of Isola di Girasoli, had affairs, producing another family in America, including Massimo’s half-sister, Paloma. He smiled, took a piece of bread from the basket and set it on her plate. “Eat.”
Sick with the emotions inside her, she took a bite, hoping to feed the emptiness plaguing her. Chewing, she let the bread sit in her mouth for a minute while she thought about her father.
“Eddie’s letter gave you every right to assume what you did. Taddy now knows who her father is. You did nothing wrong, Lex. Don’t beat yourself up over the DNA test. If Eddie were alive, he’d understand.”
Massimo caressed her arm. His very touch was medicine for her
fears.
She swallowed. “Maybe knowing that Taddy is my sister will turn out to be something good for me to remember him by, not just the bad stuff.”
“You have many good things to remember him by.”
“Such as?” Right then, she honestly couldn’t remember any.
“Lex, your father’s songs are played everywhere we go. Birdie’s are, too. His face is on TV and used in many commercials. He is part of American history. You have many things to remember him by. How can you say that?”
“Masi, that’s not my dad. That’s Eddie Easton, the rock star. I mean my dad…the guy behind the voice and guitar, the real Eddie.”
“I see.” His voice sounded concerned. “You have M2. Birdie says he has Eddie’s eyes.”
“M2 does have Daddy’s eyes, doesn’t he?” Her heart lifted every time she thought of her baby.
“Sì.”
Massimo blinked dramatically, showing that M2 didn’t have his eyes. She knew it pissed him off. But M2 did have his name.
“I wish my dad spent more time with me growing up. I don’t have many memories of him when I was little. The bad ones are so vivid and hard to put to rest.”
“What was the longest he was away from you and Birdie on tour?” Massimo asked.
“About five years. He came home…twice.” Anger flushed her cheeks as she spoke. How could any parent leave their child for half a decade? Oh, right, his excuse was in two simple words: world tour. The one the record label called the bestselling show in music history. Why bother having a baby at all if you were never going to be home to be with them?
Suddenly, M2 cried from the nursery. It was as if on cue. She went to jump up to get him but remembered what her fellow new mom friends had said: “Don’t run to the baby the second he fusses. An experienced mother waits it out. The baby will stop.”
“M2 heard you when you came in,” Massimo said.
His scream wasn’t the ‘hungry’ cry. It wasn’t the ‘need to be changed’ or the ‘waking in a dark room alone’ cry, either. It was the ‘Please pay attention to me, be here with me’ cry. It broke Lex’s heart to hear M2 scream and not run to him. A chill ran through her.
