You Were Made for Me

by Tinnean

  The screenplay had been reworked in hopes of attracting a younger, more liberal audience that would enjoy the gay subplot. The duke became Oliver Orsino, a successful restauranteur who might or might not be gay. He planned to expand his business by bringing on board Katharine de la Pole, the widow of a wealthy competitor, and he was willing to go as far as he had to, even if it entailed marrying the woman. To this effect, he sent his pastry chef, Charlie, to pay a call, hoping Charlie’s decadent confections would soften the widow’s resolve to stay out of her deceased husband’s business dealings and have her willing to fall in with his plans.

  As with Twelfth Night, the spanner in the works was that Charlie, who was gay, was in love with Orsino, while Katharine wound up falling head over heels for the much younger Charlie.

  Nothing was ever simple in any of the Bard’s plays. However, it was going to be interesting to see what path the screenwriter had taken.

  “Okay.” Dan signaled the projectionist, turned off the lights, and we sat down.

  At various times, I’d watched as Val acted opposite Brad Cartwright. They were both professionals, but as I’d mentioned to Conroy, and as far as I could tell, the chemistry just wasn’t there—they both worked too hard at appearing to fall in love.

  The scene unfolding on the screen now however… Val was acting with Keiren Doyle, the young man portraying Andrew Smith, the modern version of Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Tall and gangly, the simpleton spent his days carousing with Katharine’s drunken uncle, Garret Mulvaney. A second subplot revealed that Andrew had been sent by his father to woo the beauteous Katharine.

  “Andrew never stood a chance, not with a last name like Smith.”

  I bit my lip to hold back a laugh. “Because then she would be Kate Smith?”

  Dan grinned. “Precisely. Okay, here. Now watch this.”

  It was a sweet scene. Charlie had brought an exquisite chocolate dessert to Mrs. de la Pole. She’d turned up her pretty nose and refused it quite snootily. On the other hand, he was utterly charming in his acceptance of her refusal, but when he walked out the door, he left it behind on a nearby table.

  And he walked directly into Andrew. Andrew caught Charlie’s arm to keep him from tripping, and Charlie smiled and thanked him. I’d read the script, and in it, Charlie couldn’t dawdle, since Katharine would attempt to return the dessert, so he was supposed to say a hasty goodbye, race to his fuchsia motor scooter, climb on, and speed away. In the scene, however, Charlie’s gaze lingered on Andrew’s mouth. He rested his fingertips against Andrew’s chest, his lips parted, and he leaned toward Andrew, making the viewer wonder if they were going to share a kiss. A sound from within the house startled him out of his reverie.

  “Gotta go,” he said in a breathless voice, and that was when he resumed following the script. He ran toward the scooter, hopped on, revved the engine, and drove off.

  “There,” Dan said, signaling to the projectionist to stop at that frame. “You see?”

  I did—Andrew stood staring after him, his hand touching the place on his chest that Charlie had touched, the look on his angular face decidedly lovesick—but I just said, “They look cute together.”

  “They’re not supposed to look cute together!” Dan drove his fingers into his hair, tugged, and then winced. “Ow,” he muttered. “Andrew is supposed to be unsuccessful in courting Katharine because he’s socially awkward, not because he’s in love with Charlie.”

  I couldn’t help laughing.

  Dan grumbled. “I know, that’s what outtakes are for, but…”

  “But?”

  “I like that idea, goddammit.”

  “Will you go for it?”

  He shook his head. “Filming is almost complete. The backers would have a conniption fit if I told them I want to go that route, and the screenwriter wouldn’t be too thrilled either.”

  “Suppose you have that as a bonus feature when you release the DVD?”

  “Hmm.”

  I could see the idea intrigued him. “Or you could make another movie with them in it.” I made my expression solemn. “I have no doubt whichever you choose, you’ll make a wise decision.”

  There was a tap on the door, and then it opened and Val poked his head in. “Am I interrupting anything?”

  “No,” Dan said. “We were just watching the dailies.”

  “Cool. How did that last scene turn out?”

  Dan got quiet. “The last scene?”

  “You know, the scene where I leave Katharine’s house and bump into Andy.”

  “Andrew,” Dan corrected, and he narrowed his gaze. “Did you two plan that?”

  “No. Well, not exactly. Keiren and I were discussing Andrew’s backstory—”

  “Andrew doesn’t have a backstory. He’s a dope.”

  I sat back, crossed my legs, and watched Val. According to Mark, he had a tendency to avoid confrontations, and it would be interesting to see how he reacted to that statement.

  “No, he’s not. Oh, maybe in the play everyone considered Sir Andrew a lackwit, but this Andrew’s actually pretty smart. You know Katharine is older than he is.”

  “What? No he—”

  Val dipped his head, and maybe he hoped that hid his little grin, but I saw it. He continued. “The idea of him coming to court her is all his father’s. The old bastard—” For a second Val looked lost—was he thinking of his own father?—but then he grinned, and this time, it was obvious and teasing. “—won’t accept the fact that Andy is gay—”

  “He’s not gay.”

  “Dude.” Val gave him a surprised look. “He is so gay! He used the excuse of coming to town to court Katharine to hide the fact he wanted her uncle.”

  Dan’s jaw dropped.

  “But then he saw me. I mean Charlie.” The look on Val’s face had become a cross between innocent and smug—the young scamp—and I bit back a laugh. I’d have to tell Mark about it.

  Before Dan could respond to that, Val’s cell phone rang.

  “Sorry, I have to take this.” He stepped out of the projection room.

  I hauled myself to my feet and patted Dan’s shoulder. “It’s just a backstory. If you think it will interfere with the plot, you can always reshoot it in the morning.”

  “If I think…” He grunted. “Locke got the take he was originally going for, but dammit, this is so much better, so much more fun.”

  The door opened, and Val stood in the doorway, backlit so I couldn’t see his expression. Still, there was something about the way he held himself…

  “If you’re done, would you care to join me for dinner?” I asked him.

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all. As a matter of fact, I’d appreciate the company. I’m on my own this evening.”

  “But your uncles?”

  “They’d enjoy having you over, but some colleagues of Uncle Tony’s got in touch with him after they flew into LA this morning. He and Uncle Bryan are taking them out on the town.” I’d be at loose ends until Mark called.

  “Then yes, please, and thank you. Paul usually works the eleven p.m. to eleven a.m. shift, so he’d still be home when I finished here, but a friend asked if he’d cover for her, and he’s working a double shift today.”

  “I see.”

  “I… I’m a little nervous to stay home alone.”

  I raised an eyebrow. He’d been home alone before; he hadn’t struck me as the nervous type.

  However, this wasn’t the time or the place to discuss the matter. I’d talk to him about it over dinner.

  VII

  I BROUGHT VALENTINE back to my uncles’ house. “Why don’t you freshen up?” I suggested. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

  “Okay.” He looked wan, and I didn’t know if it was because he’d had a long day or because of whatever news he’d received from that phone call.

  While he was in the half bath, I went to the gourmet kitchen Tony had had his designer come up with—amusing since, although both my uncles could pu
t together a basic meal, neither of them needed a kitchen with all the bells and whistles this one had.

  I took out my phone and called Mark.

  “Vincent. Go.” The call had gone directly to his voicemail.

  “Something’s going on with Valentine. I’ve got it under control—he’s here at my uncles’ house—so I don’t expect you to either twist Ben-David’s arm to fly you out here or to take the first flight you can book. As soon as I discover what’s happening, I’ll let you know. Trust me, okay?” And then, just because I knew it would it would tease him, I sent a kiss over the line.

  Chuckling, I hung up and set my phone on the counter beside the coffeemaker, then removed my suit jacket and draped it over a chair.

  I opened the fridge and studied the contents.

  There wasn’t much—we’d barbecued the last of the steaks the evening before, and Tony apparently hadn’t called to have more groceries delivered—so I checked the freezer.

  And struck pay dirt—a package of tilapia fillets. There was also a loaf of French bread.

  Val came to stand beside me and peered into the freezer. “What are we having?” he asked.

  “I thought, perhaps, parmesan crusted tilapia?”

  “I haven’t had that in a long time.”

  “You’re familiar with the dish?”

  “Yes. Our cook used to make it every Friday.”

  “Oh?”

  “Not that we were Catholic. Mother was one for a set schedule. You know, veal on Monday, beef on Tuesday, grouse on Wednesday, like that. The problem is the fillets are frozen. They’ll need to be defrosted.”

  “They will.” I took the package from the freezer.

  “I’m awfully hungry,” he said wistfully.

  “In that case, I don’t think we’ll have time to defrost them in the fridge.”

  He held out his hand for the fish. “Do your uncles have plastic storage bags?”

  I knew how he planned to thaw the fillets. He’d put them in a storage bag and place the bag in a bowl of cold water. “There should be some in the pantry,” I told him. I went to a cabinet, took out a couple of bowls, and set one aside for him.

  I put the bowl I planned to use on the other end of the counter, then gathered the spices I’d need from the spice rack. The olive oil I’d also require was on an open shelf beside the cooktop.

  “Do we have to have a salad with this?” Val asked as he filled the bowl with cold water, then put the storage bag containing the fillets into the bowl.

  “Paul’s going to want you to have greens, isn’t he?” My uncles had double ovens, and I preheated both of them, one for the fish and the other for the French bread.

  Val nodded, looking less than thrilled.

  “Then of course.” I smiled as I thought of his boyfriend’s insistence he eat healthy. Mark’s reaction to the box of fiber cereal I’d bought for the same reason was identical to Val’s. Still, Mark had eaten it because I’d asked it of him, just as Val would, because Paul wanted him to.

  Val went back to the fridge, rummaged through the vegetable bin, and came away with his arms filled with a head of lettuce, celery, carrots, radishes, and an onion. He danced out of my way so I could get some fresh parsley and grated parmesan from the fridge.

  I whisked the parsley and cheese together with paprika, salt, and pepper, then coated a baking dish with olive oil.

  “I saw some olives in the pantry. Is it okay if I add them?”

  “If you like.” I’d seen the Kalamata olives and green olives stuffed with pimento as well and was curious to see what kind of salad he would put together.

  He got the jars of olives and put them on the island. “Can we have wine with this?” he asked. He washed the lettuce and then tore it into bite-size pieces.

  “No. There’s a jug of raspberry iced tea in the fridge. We’ll have that.”

  He gave a huff but didn’t challenge me, just went to work cleaning and chopping the vegetables.

  Once the fillets had defrosted, I washed them, patted them dry, and coated them with the cheese mixture. When they were all done, I placed them in the baking dish, put it in one oven, put the bread in the other, and set the timer.

  “Almost ready, Val?” It would only take about ten minutes for the fillets to bake.

  He looked up at me and grinned. “Almost.”

  He put everything into a salad bowl, drizzled the salad with some of the olive oil, added red wine vinegar and salt, and tossed it while I set the bistro table in the small breakfast nook.

  “Uh… Quinn? Could I talk to you about something?”

  “Of course.” I didn’t know him well, but he suddenly sounded edgy. “Does the prospect of returning home to an empty apartment bother you that much?”

  He paused and stared at me, and I wondered if he was going to give me a song and a dance about why he wasn’t afraid to stay by himself at night.

  “How did you…” He shook his head. “It hadn’t. Not to begin with.”

  “But something has happened lately?”

  He worried his lower lip. “That call I got earlier? That was from my friend Dane.”

  “Stapleton’s brother?”

  “Yes. We got back in touch after last spring and… Well, he thought I should know Giles has been released on bail.”

  I’d been about to place napkins beside our plates, but I stopped. “How did that happen?” Stapleton was being held on a half million dollars bond. My uncles had had no problem calling in some favors.

  “Dane said my parents got together with his and came up with the money.”

  Mark wasn’t going to be happy to learn of this. He’d discovered the Stapletons had lost most of their money to a Ponzi scheme, which was why Giles Stapleton had tried to get rid of Valentine.

  Val’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily. “He also said Giles blames me for having been arrested. It’s no secret where I’ve been working this summer, and Dane thinks there’s a possibility he might come after me.”

  “Hmm. Is it likely Stapleton will?”

  “I don’t know. Before this happened, I hadn’t thought about him in years, and I assumed it was the same with him.”

  “I hate to ask this, but how much can you trust Dane?”

  “What? He’s my friend…” His voice trailed off.

  “Stapleton is his brother.”

  Val’s mouth took on a grim line. “It doesn’t matter. Dane wouldn’t lie to me.”

  “Fair enough.” I just hoped we wouldn’t discover that Dane felt blood was thicker than water. “You said it’s possible Stapleton knows where you work, but does he know where you live?”

  “I hadn’t thought so.” Once again he worried his lower lip.

  “But you’re leery about spending the night alone in your apartment.”

  He nodded. “Paul’s never been asked to work a double before. Hearing that Giles is out of jail… Is it me, or it that too convenient? Vince always says—”

  “I know what he says. Just remember this, Val. No matter what, I’m here, and I’ll see nothing happens to you.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.” He put the salad bowl in the center of the table.

  The timer on the oven dinged, and I found a potholder, took out the tilapia, and set it on the cooktop for a few minutes. The bread was also ready, the outside crusty and the inside soft and steaming. “Why don’t you take out the butter and then pour the tea. We can discuss this in more detail while we have dinner.”

  “Okay.” After he put the butter and basket of bread on the table, he filled a couple of glasses with the iced tea.

  I plated the fillets, and we both sat down. Val was silent for a moment, his head bowed and his hands folded together.

  I was touched that in spite of everything he’d gone through, he still said grace.

  Finally he raised his head and met my gaze. “I’m starved.” The smile he gave me was one of the sweetest I’d ever seen.

  “Bon appétit.”


  “Merci.” He broke off a piece of the fish and speared it with his fork. “Oh, this is good!”

  “Thank you.” It was one of Alyona’s recipes. “I like what you’ve done with the salad.”

  “I can’t cook much, but I can do that. Theo showed me how. He’s an excellent cook.”

  “I have to agree with you.” I’d had his potato salad and coleslaw. And of course his baklava.

  “That’s one of the things we miss the most—being able to visit with the guys. If this job wasn’t Paul’s dream job, we’d have stayed in DC.”

  “But then you wouldn’t have had this opportunity to act.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered.” He ate some salad and grinned proudly at the bowl. “This did come out good. Anyway, I’d have found something else.”

  “I understand Paul has family out here?”

  Val hunched a shoulder. “He’d hoped… Well, it didn’t work out.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Why are families like that?” he asked plaintively. “Paul’s a good man.”

  I thought of Mark growing up with an abusive mother. I thought of the men she’d brought into his life, who’d all had a profound effect in one way or another. “Sometimes people who aren’t blood can be more family than family.”

  “Yes. The boys were always good to me. Maybe one day we’ll go back.”

  “Mark will be more than pleased to help in any way he can if you do decide to return. So will I.”

  “Thank you. It’s up to Paul, though.”

  We ate in silence for a while. Those poor boys. So alone. Finally I said, “Do you want to stay here? In this house,” I clarified. “You know my uncles wouldn’t object, especially since your grandfather was a good friend of Bryan’s.”

  Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I couldn’t. I’ll be fine.” He saw I was about to press him, and he hurried to say, “Seriously, I will be. I was just being stupid. I have to shoot a couple of scenes early tomorrow, but I’ll be home before Paul gets there. I’ll be fine,” he assured me again.