by Andrew Grey
“Would you gentlemen like some dessert?” the server asked as she cleared the plates.
Peter ordered the chocolate cake, so Malcolm and Hans followed suit because, well, it was chocolate. She brought three pieces, and as soon as Malcolm put a forkful into his mouth, he entered another dimension of taste. They had added chilies, just enough that the chocolate exploded and then morphed into a touch of heat before the bite disappeared. It was incredible, and each bite acted a little differently, some with more heat and others with more chocolate. What an unbelievable treat.
“You’re doing it again,” Hans said very quietly to him with a warm smile that might have held a tentative invitation.
Malcolm wasn’t completely sure, and those kinds of invitations weren’t the kind he’d be accepting at the moment. Though something did happen: Malcolm felt a spike of heat and desire rise from down deep in a way he’d never expected to again. The way Hans looked at him, with heat and maybe desire, made a part of him he thought was lost come to the front. Interest, real interest in another person, was something he had written off as being too old for, and after David, he’d put that part of his life on a shelf.
“I’m sorry,” Malcolm whispered.
“Don’t be. It’s nice.”
Hans might have winked again, and thankfully Peter seemed unaware of the interaction. Malcolm finished his dessert and managed to keep quiet, though it was difficult. When the server came back with the check, he paid it gladly.
“Do you have plans for the rest of the evening?” Peter asked Hans.
“I was going to go get some more work done. This amazing meal and your company have helped settle a scene I’ve been having trouble with, and I want to get home before I lose what I need to get written. But thank you for dinner.” Hans turned and flashed Malcolm a huge smile. “That wasn’t necessary and was so very nice.”
They stood, and Malcolm shook hands with Hans. Peter did the same, and Malcolm excused himself, taking a minute to go to the restroom before he bundled up for the cold.
When he returned, Hans had left, and Malcolm put on his winter gear before accepting Peter’s keys. They returned to the rental car, and Malcolm pointed the car toward home.
“I was thinking we could go out for a while,” Peter said.
“Where?” Malcolm asked. “I know you think I should go meet people, but I’m not a kid again, and trolling the places we did before we met our partners just isn’t in the cards. I have no interest in going to a bar or a club.”
“Is that what you thought?” Peter asked. “I was thinking maybe a movie or… I don’t know.”
Malcolm checked the clock. “It’s a little late for most shows. We could go home and see what’s on demand. It’ll be warmer.”
Peter agreed, and Malcolm continued driving. By the time he reached the house, the temperature on the dash of the car read eight degrees, and it was going to get even colder. Peter jumped out of the car and raced to the door, doing what looked like a peepee dance until Malcolm caught up to him and unlocked the door.
“Jesus.”
“It gets this cold a lot in the winter, though tonight is going to be one of the coldest.” Malcolm hung up the coats. “Go on into the living room and turn on the television.” He bumped the heat up a notch. Then he made some decaf coffee and joined Peter, who was huddled on the sofa under the throw.
Malcolm let Peter choose the movie, which could have been a disaster. Peter initially hovered over The Imitation Game, and Malcolm wasn’t sure he could watch the end. The last time he’d watched it, the scene with young Alan waiting for his friend to come back to school with the coded love note only to have him not return had sent Malcolm racing to the bathroom. However, it seemed Peter was in a comic-book mood, and they ended up watching Iron Man.
“Hans was nice,” Peter said as the movie queued up.
“Yes.” Malcolm poured a cup of coffee and sipped the hot liquid.
“I think he likes you.” Peter looked as though he might be teasing him. “Are you going to call him?”
“For what?”
Peter leaned forward and lightly smacked Malcolm on the back of the head. “A date. What else? I saw him winking at you. The man was flirting, and once I thought you might have been flirting back. Not that you’re anywhere as smooth as I can be.”
“Yeah, right. Go ahead and flirt. Susan would have your nuts for lunch if you flirted with women.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t still got it.”
“What you got is rustier than a cemetery gate,” Malcolm crowed. “Besides, how do you know he’s interested like that? Maybe Hans was being nice.”
“Please. You’re one to talk.” Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out a napkin, then pressed it into Malcolm’s hand. “I got his number for you. If he wasn’t interested, he would have said so instead of asking the bartender for a pen and giving me the number.” Peter stood and made a slam-dunk motion.
“Sit down and watch the movie.”
“Fine, but not until you answer my question. Are you going to call him?”
Malcolm groaned and turned toward the television. “Just watch the movie.”
“You know I’m not going to let this go, Mal. He was really nice, handsome if you like that sort of thing.”
Which Malcolm certainly did. Hans was the entire physical package for him if Malcolm was honest.
“And to top it off, he was definitely interested.”
“Will you leave me alone?” He tried to sound angry, but Peter knew him too well.
“I don’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life, and if things were left up to you, that’s what would happen. You’d go to work and stay in your house, mourning David. Now you may be a queen sometimes, but acting like Queen Victoria is not going to happen.”
“Where did you learn about that?” Malcolm was surprised David knew who Queen Victoria was. He’d never figured Peter for a history buff. Then it hit him. “Let me guess. Susan made you watch a movie about her.”
Peter mumbled something, and Malcolm turned to stare at him.
“I pissed her off, and she said she’d cut me off for a week if I didn’t. God, that thing was long and boring, and you are forbidden from ever becoming like that. So….” Peter leaned forward. “Are you going to call him?”
“You’re like a broken record.”
“Dude. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll stop harping on it if you agree to call him and ask him out.”
“Is this high school?” It sure as hell was starting to feel like it. “I’m fifty-two years old, not fifteen.”
“I don’t care how old you are.”
Malcolm swallowed. “I saw his birthdate when I was reviewing his updated tax forms.”
“So you looked?” Peter asked with a self-satisfied grin.
“That’s ten years.”
“At your age it doesn’t matter. You’re a guy and you still like guys, I hope, because there are few things you can count on in this world, and my big brother being gay is one of them.”
When Malcolm rolled his eyes and nodded, Peter continued.
“Okay, then. You like guys, he likes guys, and he flirted with you. Also, and here’s a big qualification, he’s not dead, and neither are you. So….”
Peter crossed his arms over his chest, cocked his eyebrow, and waited. Malcolm did the same and stared right back at him. They used to do this for hours until one of them flinched.
“I’m a lawyer. I can do this all day.”
“Call… him,” Peter snapped.
“Fine,” Malcolm said, and Peter started the damned movie already.
Chapter 3
PETER STAYED until after dinner Sunday evening, which he cooked again, thankfully—coq au vin that was heavenly. His conference was on the west side of the city, near Malcolm’s office, and they had booked everyone into a hotel because apparently the activities would continue into the evenings. “A bunch of team-building stuff.”
“Good Lord.”<
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“Yeah. The last time we did something like this, they sent us all to a cooking thing. I don’t think they thought I was being a team player when I explained the flaws in their recipes to them. Though I did save the day when I brought out the wine.”
“Do you know what it is?” Malcolm asked.
Peter shook his head and then hugged him. “You take it easy, and if I can skate out early, I’ll stop by to see you on my way out of town.” He stepped back and picked up his bag. “I know I was giving you a bunch of crap, but give Hans a call.”
Malcolm had hoped Peter had forgotten all about that since it hadn’t been mentioned again in the past two days.
“Mal-colm,” Peter groaned in that nagging way brothers had. “You promised you’d call him. Don’t make me call you every day to hound you, because you know I will.”
Peter’s laugh reminded Malcolm a little of Jack Nicholson’s Joker as he pulled open the door and stepped out of the house.
Malcolm watched Peter leave through the storm door. He closed the heavy front door once Peter was in the car, and when Peter was gone, he turned out the lights and settled in the living room in front of the television.
That night, Malcolm went to bed and slipped into his nightly routine without a thought. When he got up the following morning, he went back through his routine and left for work, barely registering what he was doing until he was in the car, when he pulled out into the snow and tried to come to a stop, only to have the wheel wrenched out of his hand as the tires moved it in the other direction. The car wasn’t the only thing caught in a rut, and his was deepening each and every day.
Maybe everyone else was right. They’d seen that he wasn’t moving on, and he had said he wanted more time, but all he’d really been doing was hiding. He’d become very good at that. A beep from behind him brought Malcolm back to his senses. Malcolm pulled forward and drove the rest of the way to work.
“You’re a little late,” Jane commented when he got to his office and set his bag down before slumping into his chair. “Rough weekend?” She placed his schedule in front of him and set his mug on the desk. “Thankfully it’s quiet on the work front and your day isn’t too heavy.”
“Yes.” He booted up his computer and reviewed his inbox. “Am I grieving too long?”
Jane stepped back. “I don’t think so. Now, if you said you wanted to have some grand torrid affair with a much younger man, I’d probably pat you on the back and say to go for it. Lord knows you can afford it.” She giggled. “But it might be too early for you to fall in love again, because you’re not ready.”
“That’s what I tried to tell my brother.”
“But there’s nothing that says you can’t go out, meet a few people, get together with friends, and stop moping. That stage might have gone on too long.”
“Why does everyone want me to stop loving David?” Malcolm asked.
“We don’t. No one does.” She turned and closed the door quickly, which Malcolm appreciated. “But you didn’t die with him. You’ll always love him. That will never change, but start living again. I think David would want that.”
Damn it, Malcolm knew she was right, but it still hurt so damn much, deep down, like a physical longing that could never be quenched. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Of course you can. You came back to work, and you’ve done fine. Go out with friends, and make some new ones if you want. You don’t need to fall in love again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Malcolm shifted his gaze to her from where he’d been watching the chair behind her.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Jane asked.
“I had dinner with my brother on Friday, and Hans Erickson joined us. He flirted with me. Apparently Peter saw it and now thinks I should call him and ask him out. He made me promise.”
“You had dinner with him?”
“Yes, and he apparently gave his phone number to Peter for me so it wouldn’t be like I was using work records inappropriately.”
“Have you called him?” Jane asked.
Malcolm shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“But you like him. I saw the two of you together. Mr. Erickson is a nice man, and he’s an author whose work you really like. So call him, see if he wants to get together and talk books. There doesn’t have to be anything romantic if you don’t want there to be.”
And there lay the problem. He’d already been around Hans three times—when they first met, a few days later when he returned to the office to sign his papers and send in the check to the IRS, and then at dinner with his brother—and all three times Malcolm’s heart had beat a little faster, and he’d had to wipe his hands to keep them from feeling sweaty. Every time that happened, it felt as though his body was betraying him and that he was being unfaithful to David. Of course nothing physical had actually happened between them, but the idea that it could, that part of him wanted something like that, sent the rest of him into a well of guilt.
“I don’t know what I want there to be, if anything.”
Jane sighed softly. “Sweetheart. David passed away, but you didn’t. I know you loved him, and so did he. If David is looking down on you or is acting as your guardian angel, he’s rooting for you to move on with your life. Do it in whatever way you’re comfortable, but do it.” She patted his shoulder, and they stood quietly for a few moments. “I hate to break this up, but your first appointment is in five minutes, and then you have a break for a few hours.”
“Thanks.” She turned and left his office while Malcolm returned to his work and tried to put his game face on.
He had his consultation and accepted another client with a tax issue. This one was more challenging than Hans’s, but nothing he couldn’t handle. After he’d shaken his new client’s hand and he’d left the office, Gary knocked on his door frame and stepped inside. Malcolm stifled a groan when he saw his expression.
“I was thinking this weekend that we should create a television commercial for the law firm,” Gary said. “Something tasteful that highlights our strengths and explains the kind of things we do.”
Malcolm stifled an overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. “Why is that a good idea?” he asked as gently as possible.
“It’s a way to bring in a lot of new clients.”
Of course. Malcolm had told him it was his job to bring in new clients, so rather than do the legwork, he’d thought of ways to try to make the clients come to them.
“Have you seen the type of firms that advertise? They mostly handle personal injury, malpractice, and other specific types of cases, and they make their firms seem like the legal version of a used-car lot.” Malcolm motioned for Gary to close the door.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Gary said, “and this afternoon at the partners’ meeting, I’m going to raise it before the rest of the partners. It would be tasteful and businesslike.” He was as serious as a heart attack. “I only wanted to do you the courtesy of telling you before the meeting.” Gary reached for the door, yanked it open, and strode out of his office.
Malcolm got up and walked to his open door.
Jane turned away from where she’d been watching Gary disappear into his office, and the entire office jumped when his door sharply slammed closed. She then turned to him, silently asking what happened, and shook her head. “Call him,” she mouthed.
“Gary?” he asked softly.
Jane’s expression changed to that look she gave him whenever he was being totally obtuse. Malcolm retreated into his office and pulled the napkin out of his pocket. He sat at his desk and dialed the number before he lost his nerve. When Hans answered, Malcolm said, “Hans, it’s Malcolm Webber. I hope I’m not disturbing your writing or anything.”
“No. I’ve already been working, and I’m just making breakfast.”
“I had a nice time at dinner the other night, and I was wondering if you might want to…. I have a charity event on Friday. It’s for the leukemia society, and the firm has purch
ased a table. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.” Malcolm felt as though he was about three seconds from losing what little was in his stomach. He wasn’t sure why he felt like a teenager… and not in a good way. He hadn’t been this nervous the first time he’d asked David to dinner. Maybe it was because of the pressure everyone was putting on him. At least once this was over, he could go back to a more comfortable life, and his brother—and Jane, and everyone else—could leave him alone.
“That would be nice,” Hans answered, but Malcolm was so far in his head he almost missed it.
“Great. I can get your address, and I’ll pick you up at seven. The dress is formal.” God, he should have made sure Hans had a tuxedo.
“All right,” Hans said easily, and Malcolm relaxed slightly. This could be fine. “It sounds like it could be fun,” Hans continued, “and the cause is near and dear to my heart. I’ll look forward to seeing you on Friday.”
“Great,” Malcolm said. “See you then.” He hung up and wished to hell the butterflies in his stomach would settle down. He spent a few minutes making a list of the things he needed to do, like making sure to get a new tuxedo shirt and having the car detailed so it was perfect inside. He wondered if he should have flowers or something but decided that was too girly. Thankfully his thoughts turned back to work, and he was able to keep busy through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon when he had to go to the partners’ meeting.
Gary sat at his place at the head of the table, and Malcolm took the spot at the other end. Carolyn Spencer, their divorce specialist, came in wearing her usual determined look. Corporate attorney Howard Brosig and criminal defense attorney Lyndon Mayer followed right behind.
“I think advertising is a good idea,” Carolyn said right away.
“Of course you do. You handle divorce,” Howard shot back. “But that kind of advertising does not look good for our corporate clients. They want discretion, and they bring in more money to the firm than divorces. If we do this, a lot of our current large clients will bail. They do not want to be associated with a television law firm.”