The Russos: Episode Eight

by D. J. Manly

  He had instantly thought that Matt wanted to get into his father’s pants. Maybe he wanted to do that, too. Who knew? He just had to learn to face facts in life. In this fairy tale world he lived in, people used you to get where they wanted to go. He was Drake Russo’s son and because he was his son, he would always need to question people’s motives for wanting to get close to him. When he was a kid and other kids found out who he was, they wanted to hang out with him because they wanted tickets to go to concerts and they wanted to meet the band. He slowly learned the difference between real friends and users, but the lessons were painful.

  When he was sixteen, there was Juan, a gorgeous Mexican lifeguard at the beach where he often went swimming with his friends. He had the greatest crush on him. Juan, who was popular and gorgeous, didn’t give him a second look until he discovered that he was a member of the Russo family.

  Then suddenly, Juan was lavishing attention on him, smiling at him and going out of his way to talk to him. He was walking on air. One day, Juan told him that he would love to do something with him. He talked him into taking him to meet the family. He brought Juan to Johnny’s surprise birthday party.

  As soon as Juan met Drake Russo, he had ceased to exist. Juan didn’t so much as say two words to him all night. Instead, the over-endowed young lifeguard spent his time smiling and flirting with his father, hanging on to his every word. Although Drake paid little attention to Juan, Angelo had been heartbroken. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he had been used. It had hurt like hell. He told himself that he more cautious now, but he wondered if that was true.

  * * * * * *

  The door to Drake’s house was unlocked. Tony frowned as he turned the door handle and the door swung open. He had been ringing the bell for close to five minutes. There was no answer. Drake must have sent the servants home. He was beginning to wonder if Drake himself were in the house.

  “Drake?” he called out. There was no response. Why in hell would he leave the door unlocked? Tony checked the box that housed the security system in the corridor. The lights were out as well. The system was off. He called his name again. He walked outside in back. There wasn’t a soul. He came back inside, moved through the huge living room and the massive hallway with its mirror checkerboard tiles and then headed upstairs.

  He stopped at Drake’s room. The door was open. There was an empty bottle of whiskey lying on the carpet. He walked into the room and picked it up. He looked around. The bed was unmade. He walked over to the adjoining bathroom. The water in the sink was running.

  “Drake?” he mused, opening the bathroom door a little wider.

  He looked up, startled. He was standing over the sink, holding a towel on his head. He was wearing a robe, loosely belted at the waist, his long dark hair in disarray.

  “Tony? What are you doing here?” He stood up and pulled the robe tighter around him, then shut off the faucet. He looked like shit.

  “You’re drunk!” Tony accused.

  “Ya, no kidding. What are you doing here?” he asked him again. “How did you get in?”

  “The door was unlocked, the security system is off. Are you inviting someone to rip you off?” Tony asked him.

  He moved by him, out of the bathroom. He lay down on the bed, placing a washcloth over his eyes.

  “Lock the door and set the alarm when you leave,” he barked, clearly not in the mood for company.

  “We need to talk.”

  “We do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? What about?” he growled. “Where’s your father?”

  “At home. He’s upset.” Tony came closer to the bed.

  “He should be.”

  “Why are you drinking?”

  “Because I want to. Why are you here?” He took the cloth off his eyes and sat up in bed.

  “My father can’t do what you asked him, Drake because it’s impossible. I’ve been thinking about it on the way over here and I figure that you know it’s impossible and that’s why...”

  “You don’t know shit!” He stood up. He swayed a bit and then walked to the window. “Go home, Tony. They’ve sent a boy to do a man’s job,” he muttered and then laughed.

  “What in hell are you talking about?” Tony shouted at him.

  “Just a little joke. Never mind. Go home, Tony. This doesn’t concern you. This is between me and your father.”

  Tony placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him around. “My father is suffering. He can’t make this choice, Drake. Why are you torturing him? He wants you, but he can’t just pretend that you haven’t been his brother for the last thirty some odd years. Why does it have to be one or the other? Why?”

  Drake looked down into his eyes. “How do you like this family, Tony? You never did say.” He laughed deeply. “Isn’t it just...grand?” He threw up his hands.

  Tony opened his mouth and then closed it. Drake reached out with one arm and pulled him close to his chest. Tony struggled against him.

  “Stop it, Drake!” Tony protested as Drake tried to kiss him.

  Drake released him. “What’s wrong, Tony? I was all you wanted once, remember? Change your mind?” The words were heavily laced with sarcasm. “My son tells me that you used him to give you experience so that I wouldn’t be disappointed. I’m ready now. Try it out. Show me what you got. Did my son do a good job?”

  Tony backed away from him. “You’re drunk!”

  “Yes, and it feels good to be drunk. People have the courage to speak the truth when they’re drunk. Right now I’m at just about the lowest point of my life. If I still had that gun, I’d use it to blow out my brains, but the police took it away and never gave it back.” He sighed and placed his hands in his hair. “All my life I thought I knew who I was and yet I wished I wasn’t that person. Now,” he started to laugh, “I’m not that person, and I wish I was. Be careful what you wish for, Tony. Like you, you wished for me for a long time now...you can have me if you want but you don’t want me. Now it’s my son you want but he wants someone else.”

  Tony’s eyes widened. He felt his breath catch in his throat. “He wants someone else? He...who?” Tony managed.

  “Matt...some reporter guy he’s brought with him to the wedding. You’ll meet him Saturday.” Drake saw the stricken look on Tony’s face. “Welcome to pain,” he murmured, turning away.

  It took Tony a few minutes to regain his composure, then he moved toward him again. “Drake, listen, go to my father, talk to him. Work this out. He loves you. You can find a way to...Drake, listen to me.” He took his arm when he wouldn’t turn around and forced him to look at him. “You are a part of this family. It’s the only family you have. We all love you. Pepi and Dad love you. They never stopped. You are still their brother. All those years you have been there for them. They adore you, Drake. Please, if you love my father, don’t make him choose. He can’t bear to lose his brother or give you up as his lover. He can’t, Drake, he won’t. He needs you. We all need you and whatever this family is, it’s ours, it’s the only one we have.”

  There were tears in both their eyes. Tony’s because he suddenly realized he could had lost Angelo for good. There was someone else in the picture now, someone Angelo cared enough about to bring to his mother’s wedding. Tony pulled Drake up against him. He needed to comfort him. He held him. Drake muttered that he would get dressed and go with him to talk to Johnny. Tony didn’t even realize that they were kissing until he felt his heart thudding wildly in his own chest. Everything seemed to happen in what seemed like a second. They both realized at the same time that they needed to stop doing what they were doing. They both went to move away from each other, embarrassed, feeling awkward, stupid. They were half laughing and half crying as they broke apart.

  Then Tony noticed that Drake’s eyes were riveted to a spot over his shoulder. He was looking at something. Then there was this voice, this deep male voice speaking. “I guess we’ve come at a bad time.”

  Tony felt physically sick to his st
omach. He knew that voice. It sounded amazingly similar to the man who stood in front of him. He turned around. He caught his breath. Angelo had a painted smile on his handsome face as he swung his helmet back and forth.

  Angelo lifted a hand. “Hello, Tony,” he said, but he hardly even looked at him.

  Tony wanted to tell him that it wasn’t what it looked like, but he couldn’t even do that.

  Angelo didn’t seem to expect a reply.

  Drake took a couple of steps forward. “Angelo. It’s not a bad time. I...when did you get here?”

  “Just now. The door was unlocked. I brought Matt with me. He’s waiting downstairs. He wanted to meet you, so I thought I’d bring him by. We can make it another time if you like.”

  He went to turn around, then paused as Drake said, “No. Give me a minute to get dressed. I’ll be right down.”

  “Whatever,” Angelo replied, disappearing down the hallway.

  Tony closed his eyes.

  Suddenly Drake was shaking him. “Tony, pull yourself together.”

  Tony opened his eyes. “God, he saw us. He saw us kissing. It didn’t mean anything. At least if it was real, but...”

  “Tony. We were both upset. There was nothing really sexual at all about that kiss. Come on. Go downstairs. I’ll be there in a few minutes. We’ll straighten this all out.”

  “No. He’s not alone, Drake, he...” Tony began, his hands trembling. “I can’t face him.”

  “You can and you will!” Drake commanded. “Do you love him?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me! Do you love him?”

  “God, yes...with all my heart, I...” Tony began.

  “Then get your ass downstairs and fight for him. Tony, he cares. I saw it in his face. Don’t let the other guy win without a fight. Is my son worth fighting for or not?”

  “To the death,” Tony replied softly.

  “Then swallow your pride and go downstairs. I’ll call your father and tell him that I’ll be over later. Go on,” Drake told him, giving him a little shove for emphasis.

  Tony looked at Drake. “But what do I say...what if...I mean...”

  “Go, Tony,” Drake growled at him, walking into the bathroom and closing the door.

  Tony stood there in the middle of Drake’s bedroom for a few minutes and then forced his feet to move in the direction of the stairway. He felt as if he were walking the last mile as he walked down those stairs, one after another.

  He stood at the entrance of the massive living room for a minute. There was a man walking around the room, picking up this and that, studying it. He had short curly dark hair. He was of average height with a well-toned body, in his young thirties. He was dressed casually in a pair of Levis and a Tommy T-shirt. He had a camera slung over one shoulder with a navy windbreaker tied around it.

  His cousin was sprawled in one of the reclining chairs. His eyes followed the man lazily around the room. He looked bored and not very pleased to be where he was. Tony noticed that his hair was a little shorter, hanging just below his shoulders now. He had grown a moustache, which suited him, and there was something about him that seemed a lot older than his years.

  “Your Dad has great taste,” Matt was saying now, studying one of the object d’art on the mantle.

  “Yes,” Angelo drawled, and then laughed a little harshly. “Good old Dad certainly knows value when he sees it.”

  “I’ll say, this Peruvian vase is probably worth a hundred thousand dollars...maybe more,” Matt replied enthusiastically, much too pleased to be standing in Drake Russo’s living room to pick up on his companion’s surliness.

  Tony chose that moment to make his presence known. He couldn’t just stand there forever and sooner or later, one of the men in the room was going to know he was there. He cleared his throat and forced himself forward.

  Matt turned around, expecting to see Drake standing there. Instead he saw a young man with shoulder-length curly dark hair and boyishly handsome face, a young man who greatly resembled Johnny Russo.

  “You’re Tony...Johnny’s son,” Matt gasped, take a few steps towards him and extending his hand. “I’m Matt Montega.”

  Tony was grateful to the man for making this easier than he thought it would be. He took the man’s hand and then looked to see Angelo get up out of his chair.

  “I saw you in the Russo’s latest video, you did well,” he smiled. “This is great. Maybe you would give me an interview sometime, Tony. I work for ‘The Beat’ and you know...it must have been quite something what with discovering that your father was...”

  “Matt,” Angelo interrupted him with a tolerant smile. “Give it a rest. I thought it was my father you really wanted to interview?”

  “It is...but I mean...Tony is also...” he began.

  “I don’t think Tony is prepared to give an interview. He doesn’t know the protocol yet.”

  Tony looked over at him, irritated “I really think that I’m capable of speaking for myself, thank you very much,” he told him coldly.

  Angelo gave him a challenging look with his eyes. The message was clear. Let me handle this, you’re out of your dimension here.

  Matt was still talking as Tony met his cousin’s eyes. Tony was the first to tear his eyes away, trying to focus on what this man was saying to him. He listened. He had a reporter’s personality, loud, boisterous, full of talk. He had been prepared to hate this man, this new lover of Angelo’s but he didn’t give anyone much of an opportunity to hate him.

  He was discussing Los Angeles now, commenting on how different it must be to be living in this massive city as compared to where he grew up. He seemed to know a great deal about him, his roots, where he went to school. Tony watched him, a little fascinated. He had never heard anyway make his life seem so interesting before.

  Angelo appeared bored. He sat back down in his chair and passed a hand over his eyes as if he had a headache.

  Tony’s eyes moved away from Matt who was looking out the window now, commenting on the beautiful garden. His eyes were drawn to Angelo, compelled to seek him out. God, how beautiful he was. His first real lover.

  He tried to recall himself when he had first come out here to this city. He had so desperately wanted to shake off the persona of that little Ontario town, to be worthy and sophisticated enough to attract a man like Drake. He wanted to be his lover. And he talked Angelo into ‘showing him the ropes’ so to speak, and he had stripped him of his fear, he had gone out there in those wild L.A. gay bars to become more worldly.

  It was funny how he couldn’t quite remember all those faceless beings that groped and prodded him in the dark, men he thought would help ‘further his education’ but who only left him feeling empty and quite sad. But finally, he had his fill of those bars. He had enough experience now. He would no longer qualify as that hick from small town Ontario. There was not any reason to go back to those horrible bars. He knew he could please a man like Drake. But ironically, just when he felt himself experienced enough for Drake, it was no longer Drake he wanted, perhaps he had never really wanted him at all.

  It was also clear that Drake really didn’t want him either, with or without experience.

  But over these last months, he had learned some very painful things. He knew now that going out to acquire all that so-called experience had been a waste of time. If Drake had really wanted him, his lack of experience would have not been of any consequence. But most of all, he learned what heartache was all about. He learned the meaning of longing. Since Drake’s son had been absent, it was only Angelo’s kiss he remembered on his mouth, Angelo’s hands he could feel touching his flesh; it was Angelo he called out in his dreams, not Drake or anyone else. What had all those others given him? Nothing because it was only one lover he could recall, one lover that had caused him to cry out in pleasure, one lover who had ever brought him joy and it was at a time in his life when he had no sexual experience at all.

  When he went to that bar where Angelo was playing that night w
ith those two other men and one of them began touching Angelo in the backseat of that car, it was at that very moment he had come face to face with the pain of love. Although his plans were to let loose that night, for the four them to switch partners, have a good time, he suddenly couldn’t bear the sight of that man’s hand on Angelo. It brought him actual physical pain.

  If he had only had the sense to recognize love when it was staring him in the face, maybe things would be different now.

  Angelo was not looking at him at all. Matt had asked him something for the second time and Tony gave himself a mental shake, forcing himself to answer. “Ah...yes, I do like roses,” he murmured, knowing from the expression on Matt’s face that he had never asked him that question.

  Angelo did look up from his chair now, giving Tony a strange look.

  Tony was just about to excuse himself to Matt when Drake walked into the room. His long dark hair was damp from the shower. He looked wonderful in a pair of black dress pants and a white silk shirt.

  “Hello, everyone. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.” He walked over to Matt and held out his hand. “You must be Matt. Drake Russo.”

  Matt took his hand and gushed a little. “I don’t think you need any introduction, Mr. Russo. I know who you are.”

  “Good. Call me Drake, then. Can I get you anything?” He turned toward his son and met his eyes.

  Angelo stood up. “I’m going to get Coke out of the fridge,” he muttered.

  “Its okay, I’ll go and get it,” Tony volunteered.

  Angelo paused and then looked at him. “Oh, I see...is that how it is now? Am I not allowed to go to the fridge in my own father’s house? Is this to be your house now?” He lifted an eyebrow.

  “I don’t live here,” Tony protested. “I was just trying to be...” he began.