“Thanks.” Zed rolled his eyes.
“You’re welcome. I’ll love you even if Gulshan Pasdar is a barnyard masturbator. And that makes ten.” He grinned.
“What?” Henry asked.
“Caspian’s first ten I love you’s have not been said in the most romantic situations.” Zed elbowed him.
“The first one—” Caspian began.
Zed put his hand over Caspian’s mouth.
“Please don’t tell us,” Jonas said.
“Please do,” Henry said with a laugh.
“No,” Zed said.
“You could ask Pasdar to do a paternity test,” Henry said.
Jonas turned to look over his shoulder at Zed. “When you see him, I think you’ll know.”
“Zed. I. Am. Your. Father,” Caspian intoned.
“You know Darth Vader never said Luke, I am your father,” Henry said. “It’s one of the most misquoted lines from films.
“He definitely didn’t say, Zed, I am your father.” Caspian laughed.
Zed groaned. “So I walk on stage, we take one look at each other and fall to pieces in front of four hundred people?”
“You should both be so focused on the music you don’t see anything,” Jonas said. “I meant when you see him afterwards.”
Henry dropped Jonas and Zed off outside the orchestra entrance and went to park the car.
“We’re first up,” Jonas said.
“Shit. You didn’t tell me that!”
Jonas laughed. “Because I knew you’d freak out. I’m only playing the piano for your piece and then I’ll be on the violin. You can go and sit with Caspian and Henry for the rest of the performance and then come to the Green Room in St Luke’s.”
“Okay.”
“Take a deep breath.”
“That didn’t help.”
But when Zed walked onto the stage with the rest of the orchestra who almost to a man and woman had told him to break a leg, a calmness came over him. This was a chance in a million. To play with the LSO. To play in front of a man who was most likely his birth father. He wasn’t going to fuck it up.
The orchestra was ready, waiting for the conductor and when Zed saw the silver-haired, silver-bearded guy walk out, his heart completed the journey into his throat. Oh fuck. His eyes are the same colour as mine. Zed nodded his head to acknowledge the conductor and then looked down at his cello. Do not shake, fingers. Stop pounding, heart.
A hush swept over the auditorium and Zed looked from the conductor to Jonas who nodded and began playing. Zed joined in at exactly the right point and from then controlled the pace. Within a few sweeps of his bow he was transported to the surface of a lake, his smooth notes on the cello showing the graceful swan gliding across the water. The piano sounded like rippling water and Zed’s bird moved majestically, king of the lake, before taking flight.
Zed lost himself in the music. It was an emotional piece known and loved by almost everyone. There were a lot of shifts, bow changes that had to be immaculate plus tricky string crossings. Not necessarily difficult to play, but to do it well, to feel it, that was the key. He’d practised until he was as perfect as he could get. His hands knew exactly what to do. Zed could see the lake stretching out ahead of him. He was the swan.
Slow now. Take your time. One final long fading note which was probably the hardest one of the piece because he had to sustain it as long as he could until the swan disappeared into the distance.
Hold the note until it dies.
And it was done.
Oh wow, did I even breathe in that?
Jonas was urging him to his feet to accept the applause. Zed somehow managed to smile when he wanted to cry. He scanned the audience and saw Caspian on his feet, Henry next to him. He didn’t even look at the conductor. He couldn’t.
Zed had to wait until the end of the next piece before he could slip into the seat next to Caspian.
Caspian squeezed his fingers and whispered in his ear, “Well done, birdie. You made the hairs on my arms stand on end.”
Zed could hardly concentrate on the rest of the music. He was rerunning the Saint-Saens wondering if it had been as good as he’d wanted it to be, then rehearsing what he was going to say to Gulshan Pasdar. What was he supposed to call him? Mr Pasdar? Sir? Maybe sir was the best option. That’s what they did in the States.
When the last piece of the evening was over and Zed wasn’t sure he could have told anyone what had been played, the applause faded and they pushed to their feet. Caspian took a badly wrapped parcel from under his seat and handed it to Zed.
“This is what I was working on today.”
Zed unwrapped it. It was the book of him. The letter his mother had written. Copies of photographs he’d found in his mother’s box, his school reports, drawings he’d done as a child, certificates for swimming and music. There was a gap after his mother had died but then there were more photos that Henry or Jonas or Caspian had taken. A copy of his degree certificate and the final picture, one of Zed on stage at Glastonbury.
“Good thing Henry and Jonas have a top-quality printer,” Caspian said. “It’s for you to give your father. I made one for Jonas and Henry too.”
Zed flung his arms around him. “I love you so much. Promise never to leave me.”
Caspian hugged him back. “I’m yours as long as you want me.”
Once they were in the Green Room, Zed lost his voice and his nerve. The room was milling with people. Maybe this was the wrong place to approach the guy. He didn’t want to cause a scene. Someone pushed a glass of champagne into his hand and he put it down. He couldn’t drink. His throat had closed up.
“Go and talk to him,” Caspian whispered.
“Ungghh.”
“Just say hello and see what he says.”
“Anuugh.”
“Try to come out with actual words or he’ll think you’re mentally ill or from outer space or both.”
“I’ve gone through so many versions of what my first sentence should be and decided on none of them.”
“I like your shirt is a good opener. Or Where did you get your baton? That’s my favourite.”
Zed laughed and as Caspian moved away, suddenly the conductor was standing in front of him. It was so weird looking into the face of someone with eyes just like his. It had to the right guy, didn’t it?
“You played the Saint-Saens beautifully.”
Speak to him! Zed couldn’t manage one word. He opened the book to the page with his mother’s letter, the envelope addressed to Gulshan Pasdar on the opposite page and held it out. Zed knew the words off by heart. My dearest one, you have a son. I’ve named him Hvarechaeshman…
When the guy looked up, Zed got his voice back. “I’m sorry if this is springing it on you. I know it’s a lot to take in. I don’t know anything other than what it says in this letter and I only found it a short time ago. You might be the wrong Gulshan Pasdar.” Of course, now you can’t shut up? “If it is you, you might not even believe what it says. You might not want to know me. You might not want me to disrupt your life because you have a family and I understand that and I’m sorry. And I don’t know what to call you assuming you are my birth father, but you are, aren’t you?” Shut up, right now.
Zed held his breath.
“I…”
Looked like he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t sure what to say but unlike the man standing in front of him, Zed couldn’t stop talking.
“We look like each other, well I don’t have silver hair or a beard but there’s something in your face I see in mine when I look in the mirror. Apart from our eyes which are so similar… I will shut up now. Sorry. Sorry.”
“I…I… You have too many words and I have none.”
“Are you him? Is it you?” Zed whispered, his heart in his throat.
“Yes. I can manage one word.” He smiled. He took hold of Zed’s hand and lifted it. “My son. Unbelievable, yet undeniable. You have a musician’s fingers. Agile, perceptive, sensitive. I se
e your mother in your face. I didn’t know. I’m…stunned, shocked, astounded. Happy. Yes, I’m happy. I’d never have left her if I’d known. How is she?”
Zed groaned. “She died ten years ago when I was eleven.”
“Ah.” He let Zed’s hand go as he sucked in a breath, for a moment his face creased in anguish. “I did as she wanted. I took the job in Boston and I tried not to think of her again. What of your father, your brother?”
“My father died this summer. That was when I found the letter, hidden in the house. Tamaz is… abroad. I live with Jonas and Henry. Jonas played the piano with me. I have a boyfriend. I’m gay. He made this book for me to give you.”
I am a blathering idiot.
“What a kind thing to do.”
“Jonas and Henry took me in when life became…difficult for me.”
“Difficult?”
Zed sagged.
“We have a lot to tell each other,” his birth father said. “You have brothers and sisters. All younger than you. Your mother… She was my love and I perhaps should have fought harder for her. You say life became difficult but were you happy? Was your life mostly good?”
His birth father stared at him as if he couldn’t believe he was there. Zed felt the same.
“I…I…” How could he answer that? Well, he could but it was too much for this moment. “If you want to see me, we could meet and talk. I don’t expect anything from you. You don’t have to see me ever again, I just wanted to meet you and now I have, I’m glad. I hope you are too.”
“I am. I fly back the day after tomorrow. Can you come to my hotel tomorrow morning?” He took Zed’s hand again and squeezed his fingers. “I’m staying at the St James’s Hotel and Club in Mayfair. Ten o’clock in the lobby. Okay?”
Zed nodded.
“I need to mingle. I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me…Gul. And thank you for this book. Thank your boyfriend. I feel a lucky man.”
SUMMER NINE
Chapter Thirty-Four
2018
Caspian stood impatiently with his sign in the arrivals hall at Heathrow’s Terminal 5. He was waiting for Zed who’d been to Boston for two weeks to stay with Gul and his family. It was the second time Zed had gone over since they’d met last summer. On this occasion Zed had taken his cello and played in his father’s orchestra. Caspian wished he’d been there to see him.
When a flurry of passengers began to emerge, Caspian held up his sign.
WELCOME TO MANCHESTER
VERY SEXY BLUE-EYED ROCK STAR
A few people read it and smiled, a couple did a double take, presumably at the word Manchester or maybe at the rock star bit. Caspian had missed Zed. Life seemed empty without him, even when the guy was deep in the zone composing with a focused ferocity that was almost frightening.
Zed was his family.
Zed was his everything.
Caspian had very little contact with his parents or sisters—the occasional phone call from his mother or sisters to ask how he was. Nothing from his father who had taken early retirement and fallen into obscurity. Lachlan rarely spoke to their father either but had told Caspian that now he wasn’t working, he was driving their mother mad. Good. Part of Caspian wished his father knew exactly why he’d fallen from grace but Henry had told him to let it go.
Lachlan now had a son and Caspian had been to see him. Though he’d been invited to the christening, he hadn’t gone, but sent a present. He’d read articles online about his brother being praised for his work for the LGBTQ charity and Caspian hoped Lachlan wasn’t just doing it to try and make up for what he’d done. Same with his brother’s work with young offenders. The door wasn’t closed between them and maybe one day it would be fully open.
He and Zed were still living with Jonas and Henry, the four of them eating together when they could. They’d looked for somewhere of their own but nowhere they could afford had been anywhere near as nice, and when Jonas and Henry insisted they didn’t want them to leave, Zed and Caspian had taken them at their word. Though they were paying rent and covering their share of the bills.
Zed had agreed to work part-time for MI5 so he could pursue a solo music career. Electric Ice were still playing with a replacement guitarist and Corrigan as their manager but hadn’t yet made it. Caspian felt mean for being glad. Corrigan was still trying to persuade Zed to sign with him as a solo artist, but Zed wouldn’t. Caspian hoped it had nothing to do with him. Zed said he didn’t want the pressure of being with a label, though was that the truth?
When Zed emerged through the doors, rolling a suitcase, his blue cello case on his back and a messenger bag looped over his chest, Caspian’s heart did a few cartwheels and somersaults. He hid his face behind his sign and waved it.
He knew the moment Zed had moved to within a couple of feet of him.
Caspian lowered the sign, glanced at him, then looked past him. “Would you mind moving out of the way, please? I’m waiting for a very sexy, blue-eyed rock star.”
Zed laughed. “What about a quite sexy, blue-eyed musician?”
“Er…no.”
“Well, I have some bad news. You’re at the wrong airport.”
“Shit! In that case, you will do.” Caspian reached out, let his fingers drift over Zed’s face and leaned to whisper in his ear. “I’ve spent the last hour wondering if that cello case will fit in a bathroom stall.”
Zed’s mouth quirked in a grin. “Not with us and my case in there too.”
“Who said I wanted you and your case in there as well?”
Zed laughed out loud then.
“Seriously, I think we should check,” Caspian whispered. “My mouth has a long-standing date with your cock.”
“I’m not letting it out on a date until I’ve showered.”
“Come on then, hurry. Jonas and Henry won’t be back until late and I’ve set the timer on the hot tub.”
Caspian dropped his sign in a waste bin and took the case from Zed.
“Anything exciting happen while I was away?” Zed asked.
“Not since yesterday. We’ve skyped every day you were gone.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t have a lot of intelligent conversation. You were too distracting.”
“Was I? Actually, I’ve been wondering if I should go for a career in the adult entertainment industry.”
Zed raised his eyebrows. “I learnt my lesson about not answering a video call from you in front of anyone after that first time. Everyone wanted to see my boyfriend, and my sisters saw far too much of you. I slammed my phone down so fast, I thought I’d broken it.”
“Were they impressed?”
“Caspian!”
He handed Zed a ticket and they went through the barrier.
“So you had a good time?” Caspian knew he had. He just didn’t want him to have too much of a good time.
“Everyone was really kind. I think my brothers are warming up to me now. Well not think. They are. Isaac is going to Julliard in the fall. He’s a brilliant pianist. We played a few duets. One evening, we all performed together in a concert for their friends. Me on the cello, Isaac on the piano, Saul and Bella on the violin, Dessie on the flute, Mira on the viola and Dad on percussion made from a variety of stuff out of the kitchen.”
“I bet you could have done with me on the triangle.” Caspian was trying hard not to be jealous.
“The one thing missing. Everyone commented on it. If only we’d had someone to play the triangle. I wish you could come to the States with me.”
“Me too.” Henry had tried again to find a way around the conditions of Caspian’s release but hadn’t had any success.
Caspian’s current supervising officer, a woman called Hatty Marks, had seemed to take pleasure in telling him he’d never be able to go the States because of his criminal record. Caspian didn’t like her but at least she only required him to go for an interview every three months.
“We went surfing at the Hamptons. Even the girls came. Dad had hired a house for a weekend and
it was right on the beach.”
Zed hadn’t told him about that.
“I’d love to live somewhere like that.” Zed sighed.
Me too.
The train pulled in and they climbed on, choosing seats that let them keep an eye on Zed’s cello.
Once they were settled, Zed took hold of Caspian’s hand. “I missed you.”
“I should think so.” Caspian squeezed his fingers.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” Zed whispered.
“You can punish me when we get home.”
“I will.”
“Promises, promises.”
“I’ll gag you.”
Caspian’s cock unfurled. A little kink of his they’d discovered. Not enough to stop him breathing but… He shuddered.
“My father asked me to stay.” Zed kept a tight hold of Caspian’s fingers as if he knew Caspian was going to try and pull away.
He didn’t try, but it was a close-run thing. His cock deflated.
“Stay? For how long?” My voice sounded okay, didn’t it? Not squeaky or panicked?
“Forever. He said he could get me a job with the orchestra or I could try and break into the US rock scene. Because I’m his son, I’m a US citizen, though it’s not quite that straightforward because I was born out of wedlock and found out after I was eighteen, or something like that. I’d have to get a lawyer to sort it out.”
Caspian’s heart stuttered and stopped.
“But I told him I didn’t want to live in the States.”
Please let it not be me that stopped him saying yes.
Please let me be the reason he said no.
Shit.
“I guess Jackson wouldn’t be too pleased,” Caspian mumbled.
“You know that’s not why I said no.”
“Is it because you don’t like mac and cheese? Though I’d have thought that would be enough to bar you from entry.”
“Don’t.” Zed mock-gagged. “I don’t know how anyone can eat that. I said no because I want to be with you, live with you.”
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