Chapter Twelve:
Surprises
Corey helped Joey finish his packing, and saw him off. Most of Joey’s possessions could be loaded into his Jeep. His few items of furniture, including his weight bench and free weights, were entrusted to a moving company’s van.
“Here’s a little going-away present,” Corey said when he and Joey were standing on the sidewalk beside the densely packed Jeep.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have.”
Corey laughed. “People always say that, but then if they like the gift, they’re glad the gift giver did do it. Come on, open it.”
Joey stripped the gift wrapping from a small flat square box and opened it. Inside was a heavy gold bracelet with an intricate abstract design.
“This is beautiful, Corey,” Joey exclaimed. “This is one of yours, isn’t it? One of the things you make.”
“It’s one of a kind. I think it came out rather well.”
“I can’t accept it. It’s too much.”
“Funny. People always say that, too, usually when they’re dying to accept it.”
“Okay, Corey, I admit it. I’m dying to accept it.”
“So take it already. Try it on.” Joey did so. “It does look good on you. I hoped it would. Wear it in good health. And don’t forget to tell people where you got it. I can always use new customers.”
Joey embraced and kissed him. “You are the best.”
“So are you. All right, we’d better break this up, and you’d better get going, before we both start getting sloppy and sentimental.”
“I want you to come visit me in Frisco.”
“I intend to. Call me, e-mail me, when you get settled. Let me know how you’re doing.”
“I will. Good-bye, buddy.”
“So long.” Corey treated himself to another impassioned kiss.
Joey drove off, and Corey was left alone on the sidewalk.
He tried to be philosophical about the whole Joey experience.
Am I better or worse off now for having known him? Suppose I’d gone straight home after work that day instead of stopping at the coffee shop. We’d never have met. Never have made love. I’d never have gotten my hopes up.
No—I can’t imagine Joey not having been a part of my life. And he still is part of it, San Francisco or no San Francisco. I guess there are all sorts of different ways of loving, and not all of them fall into the storybook-romance category.
On Saturday evening, Corey packed a small overnight bag. He loaded it, along with a small flat veneered and polished wooden box, into the back of the Triumph and drove to Kaustav’s house.
Renesh greeted him at the front door.
“I’m so glad to see you again, Corey. And I’m glad you’ll be spending the night. Let me take your bag. Is the jewelry in that box?”
“Yeah. It ought to fit in one of the storage drawers in the mandir.”
“I can’t wait to see the jewelry.”
“I think they came out pretty well, but of course I can’t be objective. I’m too caught up in it. I’ll be interested in your opinion.”
Renesh led Corey down a seemingly endless hallway. Finally, he opened a door.
“Here’s where you can put your things, Corey.”
It was a large bedroom, with room not only for a queen size bed but for a settee flanked by two armchairs, with a coffee table. This seating arrangement faced the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed. There was also a stereo system and, to Corey’s surprise, a small refrigerator. All of the furniture was in an opulent chinoiserie style, with heavy emphasis on flowered chintz and faux bamboo. Bird motifs were everywhere—on the wallpaper, on the fabrics of the upholstery and the drapes, on a lacquered screen. Brightly colored porcelain parrots, parakeets, and cockatoos were perched on the dressers and the side tables. Even the table lamps, Corey saw, were in the shape of ceramic birds.
“This is the guest room?” Corey asked.
“It’s the main guest room. The others are upstairs.”
“It’s like a luxury suite in some hotel. All the amenities, I see.”
“Mr. Thevar often has guests from out of town. He likes them to be comfortable. You have your own bathroom, through that door. If you need anything, please let me know.”
“I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable here.”
“Shall I unpack for you?”
“Don’t be absurd. I only brought these few things. You don’t work for me, Renesh. Relax.”
“Yes, but you are our guest.”
“Argumentative, aren’t you? How about a kiss, then, to welcome your guest?”
“Very well.”
Corey gave Renesh a hug and a somewhat lingering kiss. “That’s more like it,” he said as he ruffled Renesh’s hair. “Where’s your room, by the way?”
“Also upstairs.”
Maybe I’ll get a chance to see it—and spend some time in it—before this weekend’s over, Corey speculated. He noticed that Renesh was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and slip-on shoes, an outfit not unlike Corey’s own, except that Corey was wearing a sweatshirt.
“Am I dressed all right?” Corey asked. “I mean, to meet Kaustav at the airport? I assumed this would be a casual sort of evening.”
“You look fine. And Mr. Thevar always likes to dress comfortably when he travels.”
“I did bring a change of clothes for tomorrow. I could change into them now, if you think what I’ve got on is too casual.”
Renesh seemed to notice Corey’s anxiety, and he seemed amused by it. “We’re picking up Mr. Thevar at the airport. It’s not a date.”
“True.”
“I could dress down even more, myself, if that will make you feel better.”
“No, don’t bother, on my account. Am I that obvious, Renesh?”
“Obvious? About what?”
“About how anxious I am to make a good impression on your boss.”
“I wouldn’t be too concerned about that, Corey, if I were you. Mr. Thevar is quite ‘taken with you,’ as I believe you say in American English. Is that the correct expression?”
“Yes. Oh, he is, is he? Taken with me?”
“Decidedly.”
“Has he ever said anything in particular to you, about me?”
“On more than occasion.”
“Such as?”
Renesh flashed Corey an impish grin. “Forgive me, but in my country it is not considered polite to repeat private conversations.”
“Oh, so you’re just going to let me stew, is that it?”
“What a curious expression. ‘Stew,’ as in to simmer in a cooking pot?”
“Yeah.”
“Then, my dear Corey, I am afraid that stew you must.”
“Damn it. As long as I don’t simmer too long and boil over.”
“All of this talk about stewing and simmering reminds me. I’m going to get our dinner started.”
“What can I do to help?”
“You can set the table, if you wish. Since it is just the two of us, I thought we might eat in the kitchen.”
“That’ll be fine.”
In the kitchen, Renesh explained that the cook, Esmeralda, had been given a few days off during Kaustav’s absence so she could spend some time with her family. “I’ve been fending for myself,” the houseboy said. “Fortunately, I am a good cook,” he added matter-of-factly.
“I know you are. I’m starting to get hungry.”
Renesh, as things turned out, wasn’t exaggerating. The first course was an elaborate salad, served slightly warmed. It was followed by a thick bean soup, which, Renesh explained, was one of several recipes he’d learned from Esmeralda. The main course turned out to be broiled fish, with some sort of a spicy, crunchy crust. A vegetable dish, including lentils and lightly seasoned, was served on the side.
“This is fantastic,” Corey declared as he shamelessly cleaned his plate, using a piece of bread to soak up the last bits of stray fish flakes. “Do you and Kaustav always eat like
this?”
“Not always. Sometimes we have simple meals. And Mr. Thevar likes to have take-out delivered, sometimes. Chinese food or pizza and wings.”
“Well, something like that would have been fine tonight. But this is extraordinary. Above and beyond the call of duty. Do you think Kaustav and I could work out some sort of an arrangement in which you could come to my place and be my houseboy a couple of nights a week?”
Renesh smiled. “You will have to discuss that with him. If I were your houseboy, Corey, I would take very good care of you.”
“I imagine you would.”
“I’ve made us a traditional Tamil Nadu dessert. Sweetened rice balls with a fruit-and-nut paste inside them, and honey drizzled on top.”
“Okay, that settles it,” Corey said after he’d taken his first taste of the treat. “You’re hired. If Kaustav won’t let you serve two masters, then I’m just going to have to kidnap you and keep you a prisoner in my apartment.”
“You’d have to let me out occasionally, to do the grocery shopping,” Renesh pointed out.
“True.”
Over Renesh’s objections, Corey helped with the dishes. It was not a particularly onerous chore, since it consisted of rinsing them out before stacking them inside the dishwasher.
“Now I’ll show you the jewelry,” Corey suggested. “I’ll go get the box—if I can find my way back to the guest room without a map,” he joked.
“Bring it to the study. We’ll put it on the statue.”
“Let’s hope everything fits.”
“After all the trouble you’ve gone to? Of course it will.”
When Corey joined Renesh in the study, he saw that Renesh had already opened the doors of the mandir and had reverently lifted the statue, cradling it in his hands.
“Let’s place Lord Vishnu on Mr. Thevar’s desk, where he will see him as soon as he comes into the study,” Renesh said.
“Good idea.”
“And let’s cover up the statue. I will get a napkin from the kitchen.”
Corey began to take the individual items of jewelry out of the box and place them on the statue.
“Oh, Corey,” Renesh exclaimed, when he returned with the napkin. “You have done well.”
“Do you like it?”
“The jewels are beautiful. And the effect is very handsome.”
“Ah, but wait until you see him complete with his crown. That’ll really be impressive, if I may be so immodest as to say so.” Corey stood back, allowing himself to admire his own handiwork. Vishnu’s wrists and ankles flashed with restless, ever-shifting pinpoints of light. Corey moved in close to the desk again to make some adjustments in the drape of the necklace and the waist chain. “That’s better. And here are his ear clips,” he said, fitting them into place. “A well-dressed divinity, if I do say so myself.”
“It seems a shame to cover him up.”
“Yeah, but we do want Kaustav to be surprised.” Corey took the napkin from Renesh, unfolded it, and draped it over the statue. The napkin was snowy white linen and oversized. It enshrouded the statue from its head to its base. “Perfect,” Corey declared as he studied the effect.
“I’ve called the airport. Mr. Thevar’s flight took off on schedule. We should probably leave for the airport soon.”
“Okay, let’s. I’m ready. You’re extremely efficient, Renesh.”
“I try to be.”
“I can’t help thinking that you must have ambitions besides being—well, a rich man’s houseboy.”
“Domestic service is an honorable profession.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t.” They had left the house and were getting into the BMW. “Still, you’re a young man. You have your whole life ahead of you. You must have some idea of what else you might like to do in the future.”
“I do. Mr. Thevar pays for me to take college classes. In computer programming and business administration.”
“That’s generous of him.”
“If I do well, he may advance me the money to set me up in my own business some day. Either here or back home in India. That’s how such things are commonly done in India. A man who is successful helps his relatives—if they prove themselves worthy and are likely to be good investments.”
“Well, such arrangements are by no means unknown, here in the United States, as well.” By now they had negotiated the driveway, and Renesh was steering the car toward the main road. “As long as you don’t mind me asking you these personal questions, Renesh?”
“I do not mind at all.”
“Then I’m curious about what kind of a guy you can see yourself possibly hooking up with, long term.”
“‘Hooking up with?’ I’m not sure I understand what that means.”
“Living with, being in a relationship with. Having as a lover.”
“Oh, I see. I would like a man like Mr. Thevar, of course.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“Or a man like you.”
“It’s nice of you to say so, but I’m no great prize.”
“I disagree. You are hard-working and responsible. I believe you are loyal to your friends—and to your lovers. It doesn’t bother me that you are perhaps not accustomed to monogamy. I am not so naïve that I insist a man devote his exclusive attention to me, as long as he is honest about his desires. And, of course, you are very handsome. And I already know that you are extremely good in bed. All of these are excellent qualifications for a lover.”
Renesh delivered himself of this little speech in such a deadpan manner that Corey had to fight back the urge to laugh.
“Would you like to have an American for a lover?”
“Yes. American men are sexy.”
“Sexier than Indian men?”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me, Corey. The men of my country can be highly satisfactory lovers. They can be very sensual and tender. But, so often, they must first cast off certain cultural constraints before they can relax and enjoy themselves in an uninhibited fashion. The gay men I have met here in the United States do not seem to have that problem.”
“You and Kaustav don’t seem to have that problem, either.”
“We have both had the advantage of being exposed to other cultures.”
The flight was indeed on time, which in Corey’s experience was somewhat of a rarity.
When he appeared among the other disembarking passengers, Kaustav looked improbably fresh and relaxed for a man who’d been traveling all day.
“Corey!” he exclaimed when he caught sight of Corey standing beside Renesh.
“I thought I’d come to meet you. To surprise you,” Corey explained.
“It’s a delightful surprise.”
“It was Renesh’s idea, actually. Here, let me take your bag. Where’s the rest of your luggage?”
“It should be coming out on the conveyor belt any minute now.”
Renesh had already gone over to intercept the luggage, which appeared promptly enough.
“Did you have a good trip?’ Corey asked as the three men walked toward the terminal’s exit and the parking lot.
“It was a productive one. I did manage to find a little time, here and there, to do some sightseeing and some shopping.”
“And your flight home?”
“Not bad. We stopped over in Hawaii, just long enough to change planes. I have a lei, here in my carry-on bag. A nice gesture, considering how little time I spent on Hawaiian soil. Now I can’t wait to get home and relax.”
“Renesh suggested that I spend the night at your house.”
“What an excellent idea. Renesh, you think of everything.”
The houseboy beamed at this praise.
“If you’re too tired to want company, though, I can just drive myself straight home from your place,” Corey suggested. He doubted Kaustav would take him up on the suggestion, and luckily he was right.
“I won’t hear of it. I’m not tired at all. And company—your company, specifically—is just what I’m in the m
ood for.”
During the drive, Kaustav chatted about his trip.
“You’ll never guess where I went in Tokyo. A cat café.”
“You’re going to have to enlighten us, Kaustav,” Corey said. “I have no idea what a cat café is, and I can tell from the look on Renesh’s face that he’s equally in the dark.”
“Cat cafés are the latest fad in urban Japan. So many people live in small apartments and aren’t allowed to have pets. The café I went to was just like any other tiny restaurant, except that there were about a dozen cats prowling about on the premises. While you’re enjoying your food and drink, you can pay an additional charge, about ten US dollars, to interact with the cat of your choice. Mine was a tabby who was rather aloof.”
“Like most prostitutes. Not that I speak from personal experience. So this was a real cathouse. A feline brothel.”
Kaustav laughed. “That’s one way of looking at it. But I assure you, the establishment was perfectly respectable. As was my behavior while I was there.”
“Shall I unpack for you, Mr. Thevar?” Renesh asked upon their arrival at the house.
“No, don’t bother. All I need is my toilet kit. You might take it out of my small carry-on bag and put it on the bathroom sink. And turn down the bed.”
“Very good, sir. Would you like anything to eat?”
“No, I’m not feeling particularly hungry at the moment. I can always make myself a sandwich or something later if I want to. How about you, Corey? Hungry?”
“No, thanks. Renesh made us a very filling dinner earlier.”
“Good. I feel tired but not particularly sleepy. I think I’ll have some coffee. Would you like some, Corey? Or a drink?”
“Coffee sounds good.”
“Coffee for two, then, Renesh.”
“At once, sir.”
“The house seems to have been well maintained while I was away.”
“Of course, sir,” Renesh replied in a tone of voice which implied that anything else was unthinkable.
“Did anything out of the unusual happen while I was away?” Kaustav asked.
“Nothing that requires your immediate attention, sir.”
“My mail?”
Jewels for Vishnu (Siren Publishing Allure ManLove) Page 21