Buried Passions

by Andrew Grey

  “Helping your family is good,” I told him, keeping the rest of my thoughts to myself. I moved over to make room for Luka to sit. “When does Billy want you to start?”

  “I have to tell them at the Grill. He said to give them two weeks. This is normal?”

  “Yes. It’s the right thing to do, and you want them to think well of you.” I leaned against him, sighing. “I’m glad it’s working out.” There were things I wished for, but I really didn’t have anything to complain about.

  “Because of you,” Luka said, though I wasn’t sure that was true. “You make good things.”

  I didn’t understand. All I’d done was answer Billy’s question and talk Luka up a bit. It wasn’t like I’d taken a bullet for him. “I didn’t really do anything.”

  Luka nodded. “Yes, you did. You stand up for me. That mean you care.” He leaned closer, a warm hand sliding along my jaw, turning me toward him. He kissed me, deeply enough that I felt it in my heart, warmth spreading from within as his lips slid over mine, spice tinged with the tanginess of sweat nearly overwhelming my taste buds.

  I closed my eyes and groaned as I slipped my arms around Luka’s shoulders. “We probably shouldn’t do this out on the porch.” The way things were going, it wasn’t going to be long before Luka and I progressed to more intimate activities, and as great as his ass was, I didn’t think he wanted to end up flashing it at all the neighbors. Hell, I didn’t want them seeing it. That part of his anatomy, along with other certain special parts, were for my eyes only, and the thought of the lady across the street getting a peek was enough to make me want to gouge her eyes out.

  “Yes.” He leaned back and stood, his jeans tenting and stretched, his cock noticeably putting on a display.

  I tugged him toward the door, pulled him inside, and closed it. “You have about ten seconds,” I growled. “Bed, stairs, doesn’t matter. But you had damn well get where you want to be, because I’m going to take you wherever I catch you. The hallway floor is looking particularly inviting.” I began unbuttoning my shirt as Luka swallowed and raced up the stairs, with me right behind him. I caught him at the door to the bedroom, and he dragged us to the bed and then collapsed down onto it with me bouncing on top, pulling at his too-tight T-shirt.

  Skin, I wanted skin, and I needed to see Luka. It was a miracle his shirt remained intact. Clothes dropped and soared in all directions as our passion built.

  “You see me,” Luka said when our gazes locked.

  I didn’t know what he meant at first and held still. “What?”

  “You see me,” Luka repeated, brushing my forehead. “You nice to me and you see me. Most people see man who no speak much English. They not see me, make me go away. You see me and help me… you care.” He cut off my response with a kiss, and there was little time for talking about such things—screaming, groans, openmouthed cries of ecstasy, definitely, but conversation… not so much.

  THE FOLLOWING morning I hauled my dragging butt out of bed to the accompaniment of Chet’s damned ringtone. I really needed to change it to something other than the Queen of the Night’s aria from The Magic Flute, because that was no way to wake up.

  Luka lay next to me, curling closer and mumbling something in Bosnian that I took to mean “make that infernal noise stop, I just got to sleep.” Either that or he was complaining of a sex hangover—I wasn’t sure. Granted, I felt like I had a sex hangover, but there was no damned way I was going to complain about it. Not on your life.

  “Yeah?” I groaned into the phone.

  “You do remember that I’m coming in today? What did you do, stay up all night, going at it like rabbits, and forgot about me?” Despite his words, Chet didn’t sound too miffed. “If you did, good for you. Now, just remember to pick me up at the train station in two hours… and for goodness sake, don’t show up looking all “just fucked,” because I’ll turn green with envy and have to strangle you.” He hung up, and I stared at the phone as a text came through with his train information.

  I had two hours before I had to be there, and Luka was solid and warm. I groaned softly and headed to the bathroom, took care of business, and returned to the bedroom, where Luka sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I have to go to work.”

  “I’m going to pick up my friend at the train station.”

  “I understand.” Luka turned away.

  “He’s a friend, remember? We talked about this. Not a sex friend,” I said, using his term.

  Luka nodded. “You sell the cemetery?” he asked. “They said at work… the mean one… that you sell the cemetery and that I be out of work.”

  “I’m not selling the cemetery.” I pulled him to his feet, pressing his nakedness to mine. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with it long-term, but I’m not going to sell it. My family is there, and we still have work to do.” I could hardly believe I was saying this. Was it only a week ago that I’d wanted to be rid of it as quickly as possible? I still wasn’t sure if I’d keep it forever, but for now I’d hold on to it and see if there was a way to make it financially viable. Uncle Samuel seemed to have done that for years, so I could continue it for a while at least.

  “You aren’t? Does that mean you stay?” Luka asked.

  I wished I had an answer that I knew was going to make him happy. “I don’t think I can. I have to get a new job, and they’re all in New York. But there’s no work there now, so my friend is coming to visit.” I rested my head on Luka’s shoulder.

  “How long you stay here?”

  I could feel Luka pulling away and knew I didn’t have the right to stop him, even though I hated that he was doing it. His body grew tense and his caresses less flowing.

  “I don’t know. A few weeks probably. There’s nothing to go back to right now, and I have things I need to do here.” I lifted my head away from Luka’s hard shoulder to catch his gaze. “My agent is trying to get me a part, but he says I have to be patient. You and I have a lot to do at the cemetery, and I’m working with Charles on some plans to try to bring in some revenue.” I took his hand. “I’m going to need your help too. You know the cemetery the best, so I’m going to want to know your thoughts on anything we come up with.”

  “Me? I know nothing. I just groundskeeper.” He released me as I shook my head.

  “You know every tree and stone in that place. I suspect you know of any unmarked burials, or have a good idea if there are any and where they’re located. Charles is working to get all the records together, but if there is anything unusual, you could help us. You know a lot about that place, definitely more than I do.” I took his hand. “You’re smart, Luka, and you work hard.” He was also sexy as hell and one of the kindest people I had ever met. “Your opinion is valuable.”

  He shifted closer again, and I held him around his waist, burying my nose in his skin, breathing in the rich, slightly sweaty, definitely heady scent of him. This was the perfect perfume, sending waves of heat through me. I checked the clock and pushed him back on the bed.

  “I have to go work and you need to get friend,” Luka said, his voice as deep as I’d ever heard it. He was hard, cock pressing to my belly as I climbed up him, slinking so all of me could feel as much of him as possible.

  There was no way I could get enough of him. I didn’t just want Luka in a physical way, though the attraction was undeniable. When he was here with me, I felt safe, warm, and content. Luka made me happy. I didn’t worry about parts and auditions or my next job. He didn’t leave enough space in the room or in my head for that. Instead, I thought about him. Luka had a way of filling my mind so that my worries didn’t seem so big and I could deal with them.

  “Luka, I….”

  He held me without moving. Then he kissed me, gently, caring, but with a lot less heat. “You dress and get friend. I go to work.” He got up, and I watched him until the bathroom door closed.

  I lay back on the bed, staring at the closed door and wondering what I was going to do without him. I forced myself to
move and got dressed.

  When Luka returned, still naked, I grew excited again, even as he dressed and got ready to leave.

  “Will you be back after work?” I asked.

  “You have friend. Spend time with him.” Luka sighed and kissed me, then left the room, and a few moments later, the front door of the house closed and I was alone.

  I was really coming to hate that feeling. I’d gotten used to being by myself a lot of the time. I had friends and had fun with them, but with the exception of Greg, mostly I lived alone and filled my days and nights with the theater.

  Maybe that was it. Maybe I was using Luka as a substitute for all the time I spent working and being with my friends. Of course that was bullshit, and I knew it. There was no reason for feeling this way, other than Luka was amazing and I was falling for him. Why in the hell did that happen? I should have been more vigilant and stayed away after that storm. I couldn’t fall in love now. How stupid was that? My life wasn’t here, no matter how much I liked the quiet and the chance to think. I needed to just go back to New York before this whole thing got too out of control. The longer I stayed, the harder it was going to be to leave, because that’s what was going to happen.

  In the end I made up my mind—I’d spend a few more days, let Chet rest up, and then the two of us would pack up, get on the train, and go back to New York. My heart would be mostly in one piece, and we could scour the city for our next parts and go on with our lives. Charles could sell the car, the house, and the contents, and I could use the vacation home in the Adirondacks on weekends. It would be a great getaway. I could visit there and remember Uncle Samuel without all the emotional entanglements. That sounded like a plan.

  Chapter 7

  “HOW CAN you get used to this?” Chet asked the morning after I picked him up, as he tromped into the kitchen in a pair of billowing blue sleep pants and a Minions T-shirt, rubbing his eyes. “There’s no sound. The house is so quiet. Where are the cabs and the cars? Without someone honking every few minutes, I wonder if something’s wrong.” He flopped into the kitchen chair next to me, and I looked up from my coffee.

  The house only had air-conditioning on the second floor, so the doors had to be open for circulation, and I’d heard most of Chet’s nighttime grumblings. After listening to him toss, turn, and groan all night, as well as having my own unsettled thoughts, I needed a stiff shot of caffeine to pry my eyes open.

  “Don’t be so damned dramatic. It’s quiet and peaceful, what most people dream of,” I snapped at him. I got him a coffee and returned to my seat.

  “Why are you so grumpy?” Chet asked, after sipping the stiff brew. “God, this is good.” He hummed and drank some more. “You always made good coffee.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So why the bitchiness?” Chet pursued. “You were sullen all evening.”

  “It’s nothing.” I looked away, taking a drink to cover my emotions.

  Chet rolled his eyes. “I’ve known you long enough to tell when you’re upset. So what gives? It can’t be me, because I just got here and haven’t been around long enough to get on your nerves.” He flashed a smile, and I rolled my eyes because it was true. I was in a pissy mood, but he wasn’t to blame. In fact, I had no right to be. “Is it Luka?”

  “I guess….”

  “Did something happen?” Chet drank again, his eyes becoming livelier with each slug, and I sipped as well because it was my only chance to keep up with him.

  “No. It’s what didn’t happen. He works evenings at a restaurant downtown, and the last few days he’s been stopping by after work. I didn’t have any right to expect him to come last night… but I was hoping.” I couldn’t help smiling. “He tends to show up at the most unexpected times.”

  “And judging by that look on your face, you welcome each visit.”

  I turned to refill my mug just so Chet couldn’t get a good glance in my eyes. I was a great actor and dancer, but in my real life, I was a terrible liar, at least to Chet. “They were—”

  “Turn around,” Chet told me, and when I did, he was waiting, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re in love with him.”

  I was about to deny it… but I couldn’t.

  “Damn it all,” he said, smacking the table, “you fell in love with him.”

  “It’s been a week…,” I protested.

  “So? You still fell in love with him.” Chet tilted his head slightly, waiting for me to return to the table. “It doesn’t take long to fall in love. I ought to know. I’ve been in love many times. It’s the falling in life with someone that I don’t do well.”

  “Falling in life?” I asked. That was a new one.

  “Sure.” Chet drank down the last of his coffee. “I’ve fallen in love with lots of guys, had great sex, but then things don’t work out so well. Falling in love with a guy is all that wonderful stuff, like your heart beating faster and thoughts of him making you excited—all that stuff. But falling in life, being able to build a life with him, that’s a whole different thing. See, you’ve been in love before, but just like me, you suck at the falling in life part of the deal.”

  What Chet said made sense. “Why?”

  Chet shrugged, standing to refill his coffee. “You’re asking me? I don’t know crap about stuff like that.” He sat back down. “Maybe it’s part of who we are.”

  I sighed and finished my coffee. Finally my head was clear enough and I was awake to the point that I could make breakfast without burning myself. I got some eggs out of the refrigerator, as well as a little ham and an onion, so I could make some scrambled eggs. After chopping a little onion and a small piece of ham into cubes, I got a small mixing bowl out of the cupboard and cracked a few eggs into it, then whipped them up a bit before locating a frying pan. “Could you be a little less cryptic?”

  “You know what we do. We spend our lives on the stage, entertaining others, and that places demands on us.” Chet chuckled. “Neither of us is a shrinking violet. We crave attention and adulation. It’s what feeds us and makes us stronger and better at our craft. We don’t sing and dance and put in all those hours of rehearsal for ourselves as much as what we can give to the audience and then what they give back to us. That tends to make us self-centered. I’m not being mean, but we worry about our image and our next part and how we look—all of it. How many hours do you spend each week in spas and salons? We have our nails and hair done. How many facials and skin conditionings have we had? Hours spent with vocal coaches, in dance studios, acting classes… the works.”

  “It’s our job,” I said without thought.

  Chet shook his head. “It’s all to make us look better, walk and talk better. It’s so we cast a better image, and that means we spend a lot of our time thinking about ourselves. You know that as well as I do. Falling in life means we have to think of the other person—give up our time and energy so we can think and live for someone else.” He shrugged. “As for me, I’m really crappy at it.”

  “I guess I am too.” Maybe it came with the territory and we were all the same.

  “No. You’re not. You’re on the stage because you have talent and you love it, but it isn’t your life. You don’t live for the adulation, not the way I do. It doesn’t mean the beginning and end to you. It never has. The theater is something you’re good at, and you’ve managed to turn that into something you can live on.”

  I put the onion and ham in the pan to brown them. Then I added the eggs, paying attention to what I was doing rather than glaring at him. “I love what I do.” Admittedly, I was a little angry at his disparagement.

  “I’m not disputing that. I know you do. But you don’t live for it. If the show is a hit, you’re happy, and if it’s a flop, you move on. You shake off a bad review within seconds, where I chew and ruminate over it for days. Sometimes a bad review is enough to keep me in bed for a week. You know that. It’s because the theater is who I am—it’s all I am. I’m an actor, and there isn’t much else to me. I know that.” He came to stand
beside me. “You’re more than that, thank God. So many times I’ve wished I was like you and could just let things go. I never could, because it’s all I have. I’m not good at anything else.”

  My head spun. “I think I’m missing the point here.”

  “What I’m saying is, you’re better at the falling in life thing. When you find the right person, you’ll be able to adjust your life to him and include him. The theater and what we do will be less important… and that’s how it should be. We’re young and pretty. Producers love us because we’re gorgeous and can play a ton of roles. It isn’t always going to be that way. Maybe as I get older there will be interesting character-type roles, and I’ll scrape for them until the day I die.”

  I shrugged and stirred the eggs around to cook them evenly. “I guess I don’t see myself that way. I always thought I’d like to direct and maybe choreograph. I think that would be awesome and rewarding.” I turned down the heat, opened a cupboard, grabbed two plates, and brought them to where I was cooking.

  “See, you have plans and see yourself as more. I can’t direct—I’d smack someone. And I’m a dancer, but I don’t choreograph. I’m just a performer. That’s what I am.”

  I shook my head, dishing out the eggs and putting the plates on the table. “There are glasses in that cupboard.” I pointed and then got the juice. “You sell yourself short.”

  “No, I don’t. I know what my abilities are, and you have so much more than me.” Chet took a bite and seemed pleased with my efforts, because he continued eating. “I know I’m crappy at the long-term life part of relationships, but you need to find out if you are.” He finally shut up and inhaled his eggs.

  Once we were done, I put the plates in the dishwasher.

  “What are we doing today?”

  “Well, you need to get dressed, in clothes you aren’t going to mind getting dirty. I need to work at the cemetery with Luka. We’re going to finish clearing, and you can help.”