The Russos 9

by D. J. Manly

  But aging frightened him. He knew he looked young, but when he was out there on that stage, he felt his age.

  He didn't have the energy he had when he was twenty, and he was damn near exhausted by the end of the show. The constant travelling, the all-night parties, the jumping around on stage under hot lights wasn't as appealing to him as it had been even ten years ago.

  Angelo watched his father study his reflection in the mirror. He smiled almost tenderly at him. He seemed rather melancholy all of a sudden.

  "Dad?" Angelo said, "what's wrong? What were you going to say a while ago?"

  Drake came to sit back down on the bed. "I was going to say that I think I'm a little threatened by you, and I'm ashamed of myself for it."

  Angelo's body jerked backwards as if his father had issued him an electrical shock. He shook his head.

  "You...you feel threatened by me? What in the hell for?"

  Drake smiled at him. "That's one thing your mom always taught you...modesty. I was never much good at that."

  Angelo laughed. "How could you be? The great Drake Russo...everyone loves you. How can it not go to your head a little bit?"

  Drake grinned. "You are so kind."

  "Seriously, Dad, why would you feel threatened by me?" Angelo leaned forward from his sitting position and met his father's gaze.

  "Look at you. You're gorgeous, and you have twice as much talent as I did at your age and besides that," Drake put up a hand when his son seemed about to interrupt him, "you have one thing that I don't anymore...youth."

  Angelo blinked. "You're not old, Dad. Shit, you're only thirty-seven, and remember---"

  "Don't tell me about the Rolling Stones," Drake protested.

  "Okay...okay..." Angelo laughed. "I won't." He sobered. "I understand, Dad and I forgive you, but can I tell you something?"

  "Sure," he replied simply, crossing his legs underneath him on the bed.

  "I know I've said a lot of stuff to you in anger, and---" Drake put up a hand to stop him, but Angelo insisted on finishing. "It has been fucking tough sometime being your son but I wouldn't change it for the world. I am so very proud of you and I've been lucky to have a father as wonderful as you. I met a lot of kids when we were on the road, kids who had parents in the industry and they were really messed up. Their parents were never there for them, but Dad, you were always there, and I'm grateful for that. Even though you and Mom didn't live together, I never felt like a kid from a divorced home. During the important times, you and Mom were there together. I know sometimes it must have been tough but I always felt like I came first, even before the music."

  There were tears in Drake's eyes. He blinked them back, reached over and hugged his son tightly. "You always did come first, Drake, before anything. You mean more to me than any award or any concert. I'm glad you know that."

  "I know it, Dad." Angelo hugged him tighter. "I know it."

  After a few minutes, they separated. The moment had gone. They were both smiling.

  "Listen," Drake said, "I'm going to talk to Frank and suggest..."

  "Dad, wait awhile, okay? I do have a contract with Concord and I don't want to back out on it. Also, there's Mike. I can't just leave him hanging, he's my friend."

  Drake nodded. "I understand."

  "Maybe at the end of the year...we'll see. What do you think Frank will say about me joining the band if I decide...?" Angelo asked.

  "Frank is my slave, he will do anything I want," Drake joked.

  "Anything?" Angelo teased. "What if you asked him to be your sex slave?" Angelo leaned back against the headboard and laughed a little when his father made a funny face.

  "Imagine Frank---the straightest guy in the world--- being my sex slave!" Drake began to laugh.

  "If you gave him the choice between being your sex slave and changing managers...what do you think he'd do?" Angelo asked lightly.

  The whole thing was a big joke because although Frank didn't have a homophobic bone in his body, he had the reputation of being quite the ladies' man. The idea of him having a sexual encounter with another man, even Drake, was quite hilarious.

  "If he had the choice between being my sex slave, or losing me as a client...." Drake murmured, then father and son looked at each other and yelled out at exactly the same time, "Hit the road, Jack!"

  They both began to howl with laughter.

  When Johnny walked into the room, he expected to find Drake consoling his depressed son. What he found was the two of them rolling around on the bed, rocking with laughter. Tears were pouring down their faces and when he asked what was so funny, they laughed all the harder.

  "What?" Johnny demanded, not able to keep a straight face himself, although he had no idea what was causing them to laugh so hard. "Tell me what?" he said again, looking from father to son.

  "Frank..." Angelo stuttered between laughing fits..."

  Dad's sex...slave..." and as soon as the words came out, they began on another round of laughter.

  Johnny narrowed his eyes and then shook his head.

  "I have no idea what...Frank...what did Frank do?" It was good to see them like this. It had been a long time since he'd seen such closeness between them.

  When the laughter finally died down, Johnny asked them again to tell him what the joke was.

  Angelo opened his mouth and Drake pointed at him.

  "Don't...don't make me laugh again. My stomach aches."

  "Maybe Frank would like it, Dad, I hear you can be pretty persuasive," Angelo added.

  "Not that bloody persuasive," Drake started laughing again.

  Johnny shook his crop of curly dark hair. "I don't get it. What is the joke about Frank?"

  "We were wondering if Frank would be Dad's love slave," Angelo offered with a smile.

  "For Christ's sake," Johnny muttered. "Frank is the straightest man I've ever met. What in hell would possess you to---"

  "A joke, Johnny, just a joke," Drake got up off the bed. "Never mind. Anyway, if we're going, let's go. We have stuff to do over at your place before Pep brings Mac by."

  "Yeah, okay. Are you coming with us?" Johnny asked Angelo.

  Angelo shook his head. "No. I'll come by later, okay? I need to just veg out and then take a shower and change."

  Johnny sniffed the air. "Smells like you already vegged out. You too?" He turned to Drake.

  "No. He didn't save me any."

  "Too bad." Johnny clicked his tongue without compassion. "So, you drive since you're straight."

  "Your eye bothering you?"

  "A little. Don't worry, just a little fuzzy today. I need to put my drops in when I get home. Let's go, big boy."

  Drake grinned, reached over and ruffled his son's hair and told him he'd see him later.

  "Yeah, I won't be long. I'll come by...what time is it now...oh..." he checked his watch, "it's five-thirty...okay. I'll get moving soon and be there by seven-thirty or so. Is that all right?"

  Both men nodded.

  Drake left the room. Johnny started to follow, then paused at the door. "Angelo?"

  The younger man looked up at him. "Yeah?"

  "Are you okay...I mean...with Matt leaving and---"

  "Don't worry, Uncle Johnny, it's okay."

  Johnny smiled and went downstairs.

  * * * * * *

  It was almost one in the morning. Mac had passed out around midnight. Drake went upstairs to Johnny's room shortly after and went to sleep. Johnny had designated himself driver and had left around twelve-thirty to take some of the guys home while Carter drove a few others in the limo.

  The party had started around eight, but it had petered out early because everyone was stinking drunk by ten o'clock, with the exception of himself and his father. At around eleven, Drake and Johnny wheeled out a huge cake into the middle of the living room floor.

  A young, scantily dressed woman stepped out of it and proceeded to do a slow strip in front of a wasted Mac.

  The living room erupted with hoots and howls and
everyone who was still able to stand managed to dance with the naked stripper.

  His dad got a little annoyed at Drake. He got quite fresh with the girl, who didn't seem to mind one bit.

  Johnny took her aside eventually, paid her and told her that Carter would take her home.

  Drake offered to accompany her in the limo but Johnny gave him such a dirty look, he backed down.

  Angelo never showed up. Tony waited and waited for him but by around ten, he figured that he wasn't going to show. He thought about calling him, but changed his mind. He knew why he didn't come.

  Angelo didn't want to see him.

  When Johnny came back from driving everyone home, he found his son sitting in the garden, running his finger over something he held in his hand.

  He came closer and looked down at him. "You okay?"

  Tony nodded.

  "What'cha got there?" Johnny asked.

  "Nothing, just something Angelo gave me last Christmas."

  "Oh. I'm---"

  "Don't, Dad, okay?" Tony managed. "I don't want to talk about it tonight. I'm going to try and get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day and I'm not going to mope around and spoil it for Aunt Janet and Mac."

  Johnny clapped him on the back and watched as he walked back inside and headed for bed. Johnny took the seat his son had vacated and closed his eyes. He wished that he could somehow absorb his son's sadness.

  He had no idea how long he had been sitting there when he felt strong hands slide along his shoulders.

  "Aren't you cold out here?" a deep voice asked him.

  Johnny reached up and put his hands over Drake's.

  He didn't have to look around to know who it was. He was as familiar as the spring rain, as familiar as his own breath.

  "Aren't you coming to bed? I'm lonely up there all by myself," he said softly.

  Johnny smiled. "I could call that stripper back."

  "Okay...okay...I'm sorry. I was drunk, and..."

  "Horny?" Johnny suggested.

  "That too."

  Johnny laughed. "What am I going to do with you?"

  "I have some suggestions," Drake murmured, placing his cheek next to his.

  "Yeah?" Johnny looked up at him. "Okay...let's go upstairs and you can tell me all about them."

  He stood, and Drake pulled him up against him. "I got a better idea, let me show you."

  "Flirt! Tease!" Johnny pulled away from him.

  When Drake made a grab for him, he darted out of the way.

  "Now who's teasing?" Drake growled.

  Johnny laughed as he made for the staircase.

  Their laughter reached Tony's room, and he crawled out of bed and opened his door. He saw them as they languished at the end of the hall, his father playfully pushing Drake up against the wall. Their lips met, Drake reached out to pull his father close. Tony closed his eyes and sighed. His whole body started to tremble.

  They disappeared inside his father's room. There was no more to see or hear, only to imagine. He closed his door and wandered over to the window. His whole body ached. His pulse throbbed in his throat. He swallowed and looked over at his empty bed. What had he expected to happen tonight? Had he expected to look over at that bed and find him in it...his arms open in invitation? It's what he dreamed of, it was what he now seemed to be living for? How long would he feel this emptiness? "Oh, Angelo, my Angelo," he whispered, fingering the two halves of the broken heart.

  "I love you."

  Hot tears spilled out over his face. He brushed them away. He had to find a way to stop this. He paced the floor. He went and sat on the edge of the bed. He knew Drake and his father were making love down the hallway, and it made it worse. Anyone would have done at this point, anyone. The only other person in the house was Mac, and that was out of the question. Not only was he straight and about to be married, but he was unconscious.

  Tony looked at the phone. He ran his hand through his hair. He couldn't call him now. It was almost two thirty in the morning. Call him and say what? Damn you, Angelo. Where were you tonight? I need you. I want you. I have to see you tonight. He couldn't call and wake his aunt up. Tomorrow was her wedding day.

  He stood up. He looked at the phone again. Damn you, Drake Russo Junior. I hate you for making me feel this way. He reached for the phone, picked it up and then hurled it across the floor. He felt better after that.

  * * * * * *

  By the time the sun rose over Los Angeles, Tony had fallen into a restless sleep. He had no idea that it was almost nine a.m. until someone knocked on his door.

  It was his father. "Tony, are you ready to leave? We're heading to Drake's in about fifteen minutes. Don't forget your suit. I had Carter pick it up yesterday. He hung it in your closet."

  Tony moaned. "Okay, will I have time to shower at least?"

  "Do all that at Drake's. The wedding is not until two but Drake wants to get home to supervise the people setting up. He's worried they'll break something," he made a chortling sound.

  Tony smiled faintly. "Okay, coming." He pulled himself out of bed, took one look in the mirror and decided he looked like hell. He splashed some water on his face and rinsed his mouth out with that crappy-tasting mouthwash his father always bought.

  Ten minutes later, he was in back of the limo with Drake, Mac and his father.

  "Why didn't Pepi stay here last night?" Johnny asked Drake on the way out to Malibu.

  Drake cleared his throat. "He didn't bring his suit."

  "Sounds like Pepi," Mac offered.

  Mac had been pretty quiet since they had started the drive to Drake's house. Drake had been holding back on teasing him because he looked pretty tense. "You know," Drake said, "there is nothing to marrying Janet. I did it once. Piece of cake."

  Mac gave Drake an astonished look. For a minute everyone thought he was going to be angry, but then his face broke out into a smile. "You asshole. Only you would think of something like that to say to me this morning."

  Everyone laughed.

  Drake reached over and squeezed Mac's knee.

  "Now, don't get fresh. I have to save some for my bride tonight," Mac told him.

  "Not fair." Drake clicked his tongue. "I had the bride already, only seems right that I have the groom too."

  Mac batted his eyes at him. "Keep dreaming, buddy."

  Drake laughed.

  Johnny shook his head. "Drake, listen, you're just going to have to accept the fact that some of us are not susceptible to your charms."

  "Yeah, right." Drake scowled. "You can talk!"

  "Never mind," Johnny hit Drake in the arm. Tony nudged his father in the ribcage and he blushed.

  "Tell us, Dad," Tony teased.

  "Never mind. Let's talk about the wedding instead."

  Mac grinned. "I can hardly believe it. I hope the press isn't all over the place."

  "Look, I have had security tripled around the house. The only cameras will be by air, and I can't do anything about that. I did call some of the local papers and ask them to keep the copters at a distance so it wouldn't be noisy. They said they would be considerate, but..."

  Drake raised his hands in dismay.

  "Everything is going to be beautiful, Mac." Johnny hugged his shoulders. "Don't worry."

  Mac smiled tensely as Carter got off the freeway at the exit. He remained silent all the way to Malibu.

  By the time they reached Drake's house, the caterers and decorators were busy at work. They could see them marching around out back where they were setting up rows of seats outside beside the garden.

  "God, they better not have broken anything," Drake mumbled under his breath as he hopped out of the limo.

  Johnny gave Tony and Mac a 'oh brother' look. They both laughed, causing Drake to issue them all a dirty look.

  "You can laugh but some of those things are irreplaceable," he grumbled as the four men made their way into the house. Carter came scrambling after them with a suitcase and Johnny's suit. Tony and Mac had their suits hung over thei
r arm. "You can't sue for something that's priceless," Drake was saying as he walked down the vast hallway, checking this and that on his way.

  "Most of it is just junk he bought from vendors in South America, and they definitely saw him coming," Johnny told Tony in his ear as they followed Drake into the hallway.

  Tony began to laugh, quickly choking it back when Drake turned and glared at him.

  In the living room, they laid everything on the sofa.

  Carter asked Drake if there was anything else he needed him to do right away.

  "No, but keep your beeper on, Carter, just in case," Drake told him. "Anyway, relax, I doubt there is anything we'll need you for until you pick up the bride at one o'clock."

  "Yes, sir." He smiled. "I'll just park the limo in the garage then."

  "That's a good idea. What with all the people coming in and out of the driveway today," Drake muttered, distracted now by one of the things that was sitting on his mantle.

  When Johnny saw him fondling the object, he started laughing. "Oh, yeah...there's one of those priceless objects he was talking about."

  Mac got up from the sofa and peeked at it over Drake's shoulder. "Oh God, you still have that thing.

  It's the Elvis ashtray...shit..." He shook his fair head, his blue eyes shining with laughter as he chuckled deeply.

  "Never mind," Drake drawled defensively.

  "What is it?" Tony enquired with a grin.

  "A crazy lady gave that to Drake when we played Las Vegas years ago," his father replied.

  "She wasn't a crazy lady," Drake protested. "She was a fan that was traumatized by the death of her beloved idol, Elvis."

  "Drake," Johnny met his eyes, "she thought you were Elvis." He gave him a meaningful look. It was so comical that even Drake had to smile.

  "Okay...okay...she was a little flaky, but...." Drake began. Tony started howling with laughter.

  "A little flaky?" Johnny squealed. "She was certifiable."

  Mac was laughing again. "Shit, I remember her. She had one of those beehive hairdos. The woman lived in the fifties. Thought Drake was the reincarnation of Elvis," Mac told Tony.