Dan drained the pasta and poured pesto over it. He ate quickly and without relish, then washed the dishes and put them away. Duty done.
He stopped for a moment and glanced at the cupboard over the fridge. Once it had contained his stash of liquor bottles. Now it held cleaning products. After he resolved to stop drinking, he hadn’t tormented himself by keeping alcohol within reach. While he considered it a battle largely won, he thought it wise not to stock up on temptation.
Whenever he felt the twinges of loneliness, as he did on days like this, it would have been simple to console himself with a drink that could easily turn into a second and a third. Back then, it seldom stopped with one. That was the problem. Not the passing through, as with Jane and Finch, but the stopping and staying.
He picked up his book and read till the light dimmed outside the window. Just as the words on the pages were becoming incomprehensible, he reached overhead and clicked on the reading lamp. Despite his obsessions, Proust was a good companion, equally lost as Dan when it came to love. Dan was pretty sure he’d known the same loneliness, the melancholy of azure skies at twilight. But Proust was dead; Dan was still alive and living his solitariness every day. Maybe Ked was afraid of more than abandoning his father. When it came to alcohol, leaving Dan on his own was not a good option.
Ralph had retired to his bed in the kitchen. He lifted his head and sniffed when Dan came in again, resting his chin on the side of his basket. Dan poured himself a glass of cranberry juice, plunked in several ice cubes till it threatened to overflow, then lifted the drink to Ralph. It looked like a cocktail, but it would taste very different.
“Here’s to independence, Ralphie.”
Ralph sniffed at the air, decided it was nothing he was interested in then let his chin sink back onto the pillow. Dogs were fine companions, Dan thought. And usually they were easier to get along with than humans; they just didn’t have a lot to say. Still, there was his date with Hank to look forward to Friday night.
He eyed his glass of cranberry juice. At least he knew he wouldn’t be waking up sprawled on the sofa, an empty bottle of rye on the floor beside him in the morning. Sometimes not giving in was as good as it got.
Thirteen
Let’s Dance
It was a nice evening, the spring air slightly cool on his skin as Dan arrived at Hank’s condo. He felt a slight trepidation when he realized he couldn’t recall his last date, but the feeling vanished as Hank greeted him with a chaste kiss, dressed in nothing but a towel. Before anything could start, Hank whisked himself off to the bedroom, returning coiffed and neatly dressed in chinos and a crisp navy T-shirt. This time he gave Dan a longer, more intimate kiss.
Dan breathed in Hank’s subtle scent, relishing the minty taste of mouthwash on his lips. Hank pulled back and abruptly left the room again.
“I can’t forget I’m your host as well as your chef,” he called over his shoulder. “Besides — we need to get through the main course before we try the dessert.”
Enticing aromas wafted in from the kitchen. Dan followed and leaned up against the counter. Hank uncorked a bottle of wine, splashed the contents into two glasses, then handed one to Dan.
“To passion,” he said with a wink.
Dan smiled. “To passion and its possibilities.”
“I’m making Peruvian chicken with fennel ragout.” Hank grimaced. “I didn’t ask. Do you object to eating animals?”
“Only if they’re still alive when I eat them.”
“Not a vegetarian then. Good! I hate pandering to other people’s weirdnesses. I’m a complete carnivore myself, but I like to experiment. And not just with food, by the way.” He leaned in and kissed Dan again, pulling back with an intoxicated expression. “I’m tempted to forgo dinner and drag you off to the bedroom right now, but I put a lot of effort into this meal.”
“Then let’s not waste it,” Dan said. “Besides, I came hungry.”
“I promise you will go away fulfilled.” Hank downed his glass and poured a refill. “I did a little asking around about your problem. Although my bosses were not entirely forthcoming, they told me a few things. They tried to laugh it off and make it sound negligible, but I gather they get squeezed regularly. Nothing too outrageous. After all, you don’t want to squeeze the bar owners out of business. You just want to get them into the habit of coughing up when they can.”
“Do you know if anybody ever gets threatened if they don’t make the payments?”
“I think it’s been suggested that it wouldn’t be wise to turn down a request. On the other hand, I don’t think anybody was worried about being killed. Just being shut down for a few days.”
“That was my first thought,” Dan said. “As you noted the other day, it’s a win-win situation if everybody plays nice. So why upset the apple cart?”
Hank shook his head. “Ego, maybe. Nobody wants to be told what to do. From what I heard, Yuri could be headstrong. If he decided he didn’t want to play the game then maybe he just opted out and thought to hell with it. He was probably prepared to have his place raided and would have had a good doorman for the weekend crowds — there’s always a million guys waiting to get in and have fun on a weekend. But I doubt he would have expected to be murdered because of it.”
“I agree,” Dan said. “It doesn’t make sense for them to kill him. Why risk a murder investigation?”
Hank shrugged and drained his glass again. He held up the bottle. Dan shook his head. Alcohol, he knew, was like sex. The first kiss was magic, the second sloppy, and then it was all pretty much down to business after that.
Hank smiled indulgently. “Chef’s prerogative. I cook better when I’m drunk. We need to speed you up a bit. Otherwise I’m going to be too far ahead of you.”
“It’s not a race,” Dan said. “You take things at your pace and I’ll go at mine.”
“Ah, you really aren’t a drinker! I was right. We need to loosen you up.”
Dan had no intention of telling this attractive man that he was a former drinker who had faced the abyss only recently. First impressions were better edited with time. In the past two years, it had become a badge of honour to imbibe without overdoing it. He could have a single drink and stop. In good company he allowed himself two, with a long wait between the first and second. Seldom had he advanced to a third. A fourth was out of the question.
Dinner went well. The ragout was followed by a salad of butter lettuce topped with roasted walnuts, shaved parmesan, and a citrus dressing. Dan was on his second glass of wine, sipping slowly, when dessert arrived straight from the oven: a flourless chocolate-bourbon cake. Hank had gone all out to impress him.
“Ready for the next course?” Hank asked when they finished the meal.
“Your move,” Dan said, setting his glass down.
In the bedroom, they shed their clothes without awkwardness. Hank’s touch was surprisingly gentle and expertly tuned to his pleasure. As his toast had promised, he wasn’t a man who kept his passions on a leash. Lips met lips as erections probed each other’s thighs. As it turned out, Hank was well-endowed.
They were just beginning to get into it when Dan’s phone rang. He grabbed it and saw Lydia Johnston’s number.
“Sorry, I should answer this.”
He heard Lydia’s soothing voice asking for him. When he identified himself, she said, “Thought you’d like to know we’ve had a Santiago Suárez sighting.”
Just then, Hank’s lips met the head of Dan’s penis.
“Oh!”
“Yes, I knew you’d be excited,” Lydia went on as Dan tried to control himself.
“That’s, um … great news. Was he in touch with the girlfriend?”
A pair of hands cupped his balls and gave them a good yank. Dan let out a little sigh.
“What?” Lydia asked.
“Sorry, just catching my breath. I’ve been jogging.”
“Hey, good to hear. I’m a jogger, too.”
He hoped she wasn’t about to launch
into a casual conversation about their mutual fitness interests. Dan looked down to see Hank grinning up at him, working his shaft with one hand. Dan shook his head, but didn’t push Hank away.
“So. The sighting?” he managed.
“It was pure coincidence. One of my officers went by Rita’s place to do a follow-up and saw Santiago coming down the stairs as he arrived. Although the man denied being Santiago, my officer swears it was him.”
Hank’s actions were having a telling effect. Dan could barely keep his mind on the conversation. He tried to control his breathing.
“So he’s sure it was him?”
“As sure as he could be from having seen him only in a photograph.”
Dan bit his lip to keep from gasping.
“So he didn’t actually get much chance to talk to him?”
“No, unfortunately.”
“Mm,” Dan murmured as Hank’s tongue hit a hot spot.
“I know, it’s a drag,” Lydia said. “By the time he got back to his car the guy was gone.”
Dan exhaled. “Did he talk to the girlfriend?”
“Yes, she answered when he knocked. He said she still had a fresh smile on her face. She was wearing a very flimsy nightgown. She probably thought it was the boyfriend coming back.”
“So they … they were enjoying a moment of pleasure together?”
“No doubt Santiago wanted to make sure he still had a place to stay if he needed it.”
“You think?”
Dan felt the pleasure building. He tried hard not to groan. Hank was expert at what he was doing.
“It seems likely. We know he isn’t staying there full time or we would have caught him by now. I wonder if your little visit the other day triggered something. All that poking around you’ve been doing. Anyway, that’s my theory.”
“Right!” Dan exclaimed, a little too loudly.
“Are you okay?” Lydia asked.
“Very,” Dan said. “And I agree totally.”
“Good.”
Hank stepped up the pressure with both tongue and hand. Dan felt himself getting close. “I …”
“Sorry? What?”
“I better let … let you go.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll keep you informed.”
“Yes,” Dan said. “Thanks very much. Thanks …”
“Talk to you when you’re a little less busy.”
The cell clicked off.
“Oh, gawd!” Dan’s body bucked as he dropped the phone on the bed and lay very still. Hank’s face hovered above him. “You are very, very wicked,” he managed.
“Said the bishop to the altar boy,” Hank chimed in. “Ba-dump!”
They showered together. Hank stood back, apprising Dan’s body as they towelled off. “Very, very nice!”
“Thanks,” Dan said. “You, too.”
“It’s been a fun evening. Would you like to continue at the bar? I could do with a little dancing!”
“I’m not much of a dancer,” Dan said apologetically.
“I can teach you. You know what they say: dancing is an art.”
“I don’t mind coming with you, but can’t I just appreciate it from a distance?”
Hank grinned. “I want to see you live a little. You need to learn to relax, Danny boy.”
Dan considered. “All right. But not too late.”
“Of course not. We need to get you back home before the Great Pumpkin comes calling for you.”
Zipperz specialized in music from his youth, as Dan discovered. He hadn’t been on a dance floor in years, but slowly he let go and began to enjoy himself. Hank bought him a beer. It was his third drink of the evening and Dan was dead set on making it his last. It was all a matter of self-control.
Not only had Dan not danced in public for a decade, it was probably the first time he’d danced with an alcoholic beverage in hand since his twenties, around the time he met Donny. He stopped to consider: it actually felt good. Hank was right — he needed to unwind and relax. Otherwise he would petrify, becoming a fossil before his time.
The lights rippled as the music enveloped him, reminding him of how much fun he used to have before the responsibilities and worries and everything else that dragged you down with time. For just tonight, he wasn’t that person anymore. He was free to be who he wanted.
Hank walked off the floor and returned with two more bottles. Dan shook his head, but Hank pouted. How many years since he’d had such meaningless fun? Dan wondered. He was flying now, his feet lifting with the beat pulsing around him. Everywhere he looked, people were having fun. Healthy, normal people were enjoying a night out with a little beer and companionship to tide them over. He could manage it, he thought. It wasn’t asking too much. And it was better than staying alone at home. He nodded and grabbed the beer.
Hank gave him a contented smile. The student was coming along nicely.
“But this is absolutely the last drink tonight,” Dan shouted in his ear.
“Absolutely! You’re fantastic, buddy!”
Hank gave him a thumbs-up and Dan drifted off to the centre of the dance floor. He could have done a back-flip out of sheer physical enjoyment. The man next to him glowed. Dan looked around in amazement at all those smiling, happy people pressed into one small space. He felt euphoric and wanted to hug them all. He turned to look for Hank and saw him shimmying with another man across the room. Others were coming on to the floor now. How could he have forgotten there was so much joy in dancing?
It was during the next song that he felt his pulse racing. It accelerated so quickly he wondered if he was having a heart attack, but then it slowed again. He stepped off the floor, feeling flushed. He waved to Hank to say he was going to take a break. Hank smiled at him and kept dancing.
Dan staggered to the bathroom, reaching out to the walls to steady himself. At the urinal, he released a dark stream of piss and watched in fascination as it discoloured the ice before flushing away. He felt better, but only momentarily. The heat and the pressure in his head were building again. He lurched into a cubicle and bent low over the toilet, forcing himself to his knees as he gripped the rim. The sudden stream of alcohol mixed with the remains of Peruvian fennel ragout were disgusting, though he felt immediately better.
Once he could stand again, he carefully exited the stall. Hank stood just inside the entrance, watching him with concern. Dan propped himself against the wall, taking deep breaths to quell the fire inside. A security guard looked him over: if this guy was going to give him trouble, he’d be one hell of a dude to mess with.
Hank put an arm around Dan’s shoulder.
“I think we’d better take you home, cowboy,” he said softly in Dan’s ear.
Music pounded in the background. For a second, Dan thought he was going to be sick again. Wimp! he thought. Not drinking for a couple years had rendered him a complete washout. The irony!
He let Hank lead him from the club then stumbled into a cab when Hank opened the door, all the while apologizing for the scene he was making. He tried to talk, but he wasn’t making sense. If he didn’t lie down, he felt he would collapse. Finally, he gave in and sprawled across Hank’s lap.
“Sorry, sorry …”
“No worries, big guy,” Hank said soothingly.
The cab took them to Hank’s condo. The driver scowled even as he took the twenty Hank proffered through the window. Whether he disliked drunks or faggots, they were both and his distaste was clear. The cab swerved off again.
Dan was a contestant on a game show. Someone asked him to guess the identity of the people who loved him, but one after another the doors slid open on empty space. He felt a sense of despair as he approached the final door. At last, it opened with a flourish. There was his son, with Donny and Kendra. Relief flooded over him. Better late than never.
Pain split his head like an axe stroke. He sat up and looked around, but he wasn’t in his room. The events of the evening started to come back, shadowy and vague. He was back at Hank’s condo
after being out at a dance club. A used condom lay on the floor beside his castoff underwear. That meant they’d had sex upon returning, though Dan couldn’t recall taking part in the event. This was like so many wasted nights of his youth.
Hank was asleep on the far side of the bed. Dan dressed hurriedly and let himself out of the condo, embarrassed as hell by his conduct the previous night.
So much for self-control.
The house was dark when Dan arrived home. Ralph gave him a questioning glance, but let him pass. No use rubbing it in, his look seemed to say, though it stopped short of outright commiseration. Dan went directly to bed and slept until afternoon.
When he got up, his urine was nearly black. Something clicked as he stood over the toilet, propping himself with one hand against the wall. He wasn’t drunk. His first thought was food-poisoning. Then the other shoe dropped.
He stumbled to the kitchen. There were three messages from Hank asking how he was and did he need any help. Each one sounded a little more panicked. Dan picked up his cell. Hank answered on the first ring.
“How are you, buddy?” Hank asked on hearing Dan’s voice. “I was very worried about —”
“I’m all right now,” Dan said, cutting him off. “I wasn’t last night. Care to tell me what happened in the hours between leaving your place and returning home again?”
There was a pause. The line hummed between them. Dan waited.
“I didn’t know you’d be so susceptible,” Hank said with a nervous laugh.
“To what?”
“MDMA.”
“You gave me MDMA?”
“Just one,” Hank said. “I slipped it into your beer at Zipperz. I’m sorry.”
Dan was momentarily stunned. He’d heard of the dangers of mixing alcohol and Ecstasy. It was little short of date rape.
“What the fuck? What were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry, Dan. I just thought it would be fun, a little something to help you relax.”
After the Horses Page 10