by A. C. Katt
“Sounds like a plan.” Frankie walked close behind him. He felt absurdly happy.
§ § §
The Old Homestead Steakhouse
They decided to go to the Old Homestead by Chelsea Market. The Homestead specialized in beef, and Frankie discovered they both liked medium rare red meat. A taxi brought them downtown. The maître d’ knew René and gave them a private corner table.
“Can I order for us?” René asked. Frankie nodded, and the waiter hurried over to their banquette. “Good evening, George.”
“Good evening, Mr. DuBois. Your brother and Mr. Kellerman are elsewhere this evening?” George inquired.
“They are at the wedding reception we left. We snuck out early to enjoy some of your steak. George, this is Mr. Ferone, you’ll be seeing him often.” George raised an eyebrow and René stared him down. The waiter lowered his gaze to his pad.
“We’ll take the Oysters Rockefeller, the Shrimp Tempura, two onion soups, two beet salads and the Prime Porterhouse steak for two, medium rare.”
“Would you care for something to drink, Mr. DuBois?”
René gazed over to Frankie. “We’ll have two Sex on the Beach.” Frankie smiled back warmly at his date.
“We’ll examine the dessert menu after we eat.” René closed the menu and gave it back to the waiter.
“I don’t think I can eat all that, but I won’t complain. At the rate I’m eating today, I’ll finish.”
René scrutinized the wine list. “Shall I send the sommelier, sir?”
“Yes, George.” He turned to Frankie. “Do you like Bordeaux?”
“I like wine, but I don’t know much about it.”
The sommelier crossed the room to their table. “Good evening, Mr. DuBois.”
René nodded. “Hello, Reynaud, this is my friend, Mr. Ferone.”
Reynaud didn’t bat an eye. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ferone.” The sommelier nodded.
René examined the wine list. “I was hoping for a two thousand and nine Bordeaux from Pomerol. The Saint Emilion for that year is variable.”
“May I suggest Château Pailhas Grand Cru? It’s Saint Emilion, but I chose it myself, and it’s a classic,” the sommelier suggested.
“You don’t have a Pomerol of that vintage in the cellar that you’re holding back for a special customer?” René coaxed.
“Not this time, Mr. DuBois.”
“All right, I’ll take your recommendation.” René smiled at the sommelier and handed him the wine list.
“That’s an awful lot of money for a bottle of wine.” Frankie frowned, unused to spending his money on things like expensive bottles of wine.
“No, not for a two thousand and nine. I want you to try it. I have the Pomerol in my cellar. We’ll taste it in my home, sometime. I’ll cook. Dinner tonight is my treat as I invited you. Perhaps, some time, you can take me to your favorite Italian restaurant. I know very little about Italian food.”
Mollified, Frankie agreed. He and René closed the Homestead at ten. They held hands between courses, laughed and touched each other through dinner, and managed to drink two bottles of wine. René suggested Taylor forty-year-old port after dinner. He also ordered an espresso for each of them, plus chocolate cake, and a slice of cheesecake for them to share. They ate off each other’s forks. René licked a crumb of cheesecake from Frankie’s lips. He peered at René from under his lashes. I’m falling hard for this guy. His eyes opened wide in realization, I’m already half in love and I haven’t even known him for a day. Frankie sighed in acceptance of his folly.
§ § §
René forgot that humans didn’t have the tolerance for liquor that the loup garou did. He didn’t trust the taxi driver to get Frankie home in one piece, so he delivered his Mate to his condo door. Frankie let him in, and René made some decaf and shared a cup with his Mate. The size of Frankie’s condo upset him. He didn’t think Frankie should have to live in such a little box. René became determined to get Frankie moved in with him as soon as possible.
They sat together on the closed sofa bed drinking their coffee. After they finished, Frankie took their cups and put them down on the end table. He grabbed the back of René’s head and brought René’s lips down to his. Frankie’s tongue traced René’s mouth, and René opened to him.
His Mate’s tongue probed inside, and he responded with a more intimate kiss, one his brother had described. Frankie’s flavor was as sweet as René expected, like Godiva salted caramel wrapped in rich, dark chocolate. He tasted just like the wonderful fragrance he exuded. His Mate leaned over and encased René in strong arms. Frankie trailed his fingers down René’s chest toward his belt. René took his Mate’s hand to his lips and kissed the palm. “It’s late. We both have work in the morning. Are you free tomorrow night? We could have Chinese at my place if you’re not sure when you’re going to be finished up.”
Frankie’s eyes opened wide. “You were serious about the sex.”
René smiled sadly. “I’m afraid I was. Does that change how you feel?”
“No, it frustrates me, but I want you in my life.” René licked Frankie’s palm, and he kissed his wrist. His Mate shivered.
“Let me know when you are ready to irrevocably commit. We’ll travel out to the ranch, get married, and I’ll make you mine.”
“How can you be so sure that I’m the one? We just met today,” Frankie said, eyes wide. “I know I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone else, but I’m not willing to call it love yet. Call me old-fashioned, but I want love with marriage.”
“I do, too… Know this, I love you, deeply. Do you read gay romance?” René raised an eyebrow.
“That’s a non sequitur.” Frankie blushed. “But yes, I read gay romance.”
“Download Jason Jones on your reader. Read his last series. Tell me what you think.” René kissed Frankie deeply. “It’s time for me to go home.” He got up.
“Let me kiss you, goodnight.” Frankie smiled angelically. He stood and wrapped his arms around René’s and deliberately teased his mouth and neck. René grabbed his shoulders and set him firmly away. Frankie searched his face. “What’s your address?”
“I’m sure you know where Armand lives. I’m two doors down on the right.”
“You have me curious about the book. Maybe I’ll read it tomorrow.” Frankie batted at the air. “The damn thread. It’s getting thicker. This suit needs to be cleaned. I’ll see you tomorrow night around seven.” Frankie gave René his phone. “Call yourself. Then we’ll have each other’s number. If I can’t make it by seven, I’ll let you know.” Frankie saw him to the door. “Goodnight, René. It’s been an interesting day.” He brushed René’s lips with his.
René smiled. He would have to think on his feet to stay ahead of his Mate. Frankie wasn’t a boy like the others. He was a full-grown man and therefore challenging. René liked that. His only worry was that Frankie might not accept him so quickly. And gods forbid, what if he refused him?
Chapter Three
Greenwich Village
The Alpha’s House
The Alpha Mate spent his day in the studio. Sean teased René all day about his gangster Mate. René kept frowning. He didn’t think it was funny. Finally, The Alpha Mate apologized.
“I have a sense of humor, Alpha Mate, and normally I would laugh with you. However, Frankie is very sensitive about what his stepfather does for a living. He’s been forced to work for Don Ferone for ten years for what amounts to an indentured servant’s salary to pay off his school. He’s spent this time in a perpetual fight with his stepfather because he couldn’t live with himself if he did what Don Ferone asked him to do and that Frankie didn’t think was right.”
“But why does he work for Don Ferone if he objects to his business?” Sean’s washed his hands at the sink, removing most of the clay. The two of them started to clean Sean’s tools. Knowing the routine René thoroughly dried them before they were stored in the custom cabinets. They spoke as they worked in tandem.
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br /> “I explained that. Don Ferone wouldn’t let Frankie go anywhere else. His stepfather arranged it so that he couldn’t. Frankie never wanted any part of Ferone’s business. He’s desperate to get a different job. His stepfather extracted a promise from Frankie to work for him for ten years to pay for his Harvard education. Frankie agreed at first because he couldn’t get a job anywhere else but…”
“Why not? Didn’t he do well in school?” Sean interrupted, sounding skeptical.
“Alpha Mate,” René’s voice rose. This was the first time since Sean and The Alpha mated that Sean really annoyed him. He had exasperated René many times, but this was the first time he’d made René angry. “Frankie was the valedictorian of his class. He couldn’t get hired in the city because of his last name and Ferone’s influence. All his stepfather had to do was drop a word in a few ears. Everyone knows who Don Ferone is, and they refused to hire Frankie for fear of getting on the bad side of the mob. So, Frankie had to work for Ferone or not work at all. For ten years, he clashed with Ferone because he refused to do anything that he considered to be wrong. It gives me an ulcer to even think about it, and I’m loup garou. Think what that would do to a human. How would you like to live with Sergeant Tom Quinn for ten years with no recourse and to get the shit beat out of you emotionally and mentally every day, because you couldn’t do something you found to be morally reprehensible?”
Sean whistled low. “It must have been hard to refuse his father.”
“Don’t call Don Ferone his father in front of Frankie. He’s not his biological father. His biological father was a hero in the Bosnian War. Not too many people even recall we were in Bosnia because it was eclipsed by nine-eleven, but Frankie remembers. That’s where his troubles began. Ferone came around claiming to be a friend of Frankie’s father’s and fell for his mother. That’s the one thing Frankie says is true. Ferone loves his mother. Adores her in fact. He proposed less than a year after Frankie’s father died. Then he tried to erase Frankie’s father from both his mother’s and Frankie’s life. Frankie’s mother married Don Ferone over Frankie’s objections. He adopted Frankie at the same time, and Frankie couldn’t do anything about it. He was only twelve. Ferone only found out Frankie was gay after the marriage even though his mother knew all along. He told his parents when he was nine. His dad was okay with it. Ferone, not so much.”
“Easy, René. I didn’t understand it was that difficult for him.” He raised his hands and changed his tone.
“Resisting Don Ferone was even harder than you can imagine, Alpha Mate. Frankie thought his stepfather hired him to make his business legitimate. Frankie originally held on to that thought, or he would have gone crazy. Eventually, he found that it wasn’t the case. Every legitimate enterprise Frankie proposed, Don Ferone shot down. As time passed, the truth emerged. His stepfather wanted Frankie to take over for him so that his brother, Don Ferone’s biological son, wouldn’t have to run it but could still benefit from the income it generated. Frankie didn’t say so, but I think Dante Junior is a spoiled brat. Frankie says he drives a Ferrari and is going to the Borough of Manhattan Community College. Dante has the money so that Dante Junior could attend college wherever he pleases. I think it’s safe to infer that Junior doesn’t apply himself. Don Ferone is smart, Frankie is smarter.” René emphasized his words by smacking his hands together in a fierce defense of his Mate.
“Yeah, but Frankie’s mother must be kind of light in the packet, which would account for the brother. Frankie’s father was probably the smart one. Doesn’t she know she put her son in the way of a mob boss?”
Sean had changed his tone, René mused. His charge had changes sides from Devil’s Advocate to full on support of his minder’s man.
“Frankie says that she still believes he imports olive oil.” René didn’t know who exasperated him more, Frankie’s mother for being so naïve or Don Ferone for being such a nasty bastard. Poor Frankie loved his mother dearly, and she loved Ferone, so Frankie told no secrets. They had discussed Frankie’s situation at length over dinner last night. There were no easy answers.
“What’s Frankie going to do?”
“Don Ferone made Frankie promise him ten years. The ten years are up this month. Frankie says that Don Ferone will keep his promise to let him go. Two questions remain. Is Frankie right, and will Don Ferone give him up as he promised, and will he let him come work for us? It’s possible that Ferone came up with the number ten because he didn’t think Frankie would be able to get work anywhere else after spending all this time in a criminal enterprise. If that’s the case, he’s going to be none too happy that Armand has offered him a job and a way out. He’ll be even unhappier with Frankie for marrying, as that doesn’t go over too well with the mob and their ilk. And The Alpha can’t afford to have bad relations with the Italians.”
“What’s Armand waiting for? And why does my Armand have to worry about the Italians?” Sean asked, obviously impatient for René to answer. “If Frankie worked here, it would be easier for you to court him, and his conscience could rest easy. We may bend human law a little, but we don’t hurt people. If Don Ferone made a promise, he should keep it.”
“Frankie can’t come to work for The Alpha unless he accepts me. We have secrets, Alpha Mate. If Frankie doesn’t accept me, he can’t work where he has access to our secrets. You and The Alpha have to be able to relax in your own home, and if Frankie isn’t one of us, he can’t be here. The Alpha promised Frankie that he would get him a job elsewhere if he couldn’t work here. But there is still the possibility of a problem with Don Ferone. A war with the Italians is a war we couldn’t win because we can’t harm humans. The best we could do is defend ourselves.”
“What happens to your mating then, if we can’t bring Don Ferone around?”
René shook his head. “I don’t know, Alpha Mate. I don’t know.”
§ § §
While René spent the afternoon with Sean in the studio, Frankie had a slow day at Dante’s restaurant. Finally, he gave up trying to appear alert. He sat at a banquette in the back, put up his feet, and began reading the Jason Jones book René recommended on his phone’s Kindle app.
Halfway through the afternoon, Frankie decided that the book annoyed him. This was the third time he had picked it up, then put it down. He couldn’t understand why René asked him to read a book about werewolves. Frankie loved gay romance, and reading gay romance during his downtime on the job wasn’t unusual. Anyone who had access to his Kindle account would know that, but he avoided the paranormal titles. They made him uncomfortable.
He identified too strongly with the feelings of otherness the characters displayed, and all the paranormal books told the same story. Human hero feels apart from other humans and falls for a gargoyle, vampire, werewolf, or fill in the blank. They all followed the same trope. A human who doesn’t fit in among his own takes refuge in the paranormal and finds forever love. It hit too close to home. He sure as hell didn’t fit in with the mob. Even the fifty men he commanded viewed him as other. They didn’t accept his sexuality so much as ignored it and hoped it would go away―and he wanted a Mate, a forever love.
Frankie shook his head. Although this book is different from others I’ve seen, I must admit this werewolf tale takes a turn for the unexpected. The wolves aren’t bikers or hidden in the woods, they are right here mixing with ordinary people who have no clue. I’m enjoying it, and it seems plausible. Jason Jones is a good writer even though I don’t necessarily like the subject. If I wanted fantasy, I’d read Tolkien. But he was lying. He was enjoying this book despite his misgivings and protests. I know in my heart that I want it to be real.
Frankie changed position on the bench. There must be a reason René wanted him to read this, so he picked the book back up and continued. He read a little further. How could Richie not know what Peter was? Wait a minute! Frankie read furiously to the end of the chapter. He frantically turned the pages backward and read the chapter a second time. He put down his phone.
Then he picked it up, put it down again, picked it up, brought up the keypad and dialed René. His anger was palpable. The only man he had ever come close to loving—yeah, he couldn’t explain that either—was certifiable, or a fucking clown.
§ § §
René’s phone rang. That’s strange. No one calls me in the middle of the day. He picked up on the third ring.
“It’s Frankie, what time can I see you? I read the book. We need to talk.”
René panicked. Frankie sounded upset, not receptive.
“Hold on a minute… I’ll see if I can meet you at the house in about thirty minutes.” René pressed the Mute button. René and Sean were sitting at the bench having some of the pound cake with homemade blackberry compote Meg brought them. René was eating with Sean because he thought that he and Frankie would have an intimate late dinner. René felt his ears redden. He was very much afraid he wouldn’t be eating with Frankie at all.
“Alpha Mate, what time is The Alpha coming home? Frankie wants…”
“Go ahead, René. I’m staying home, and Armand is on his way. Meg is here. Armand will be home in a few minutes.”
René unmuted his phone. “Frankie, I have to wait for Mr. La Marche. I can’t leave The Al…eh…Sean alone with no protection. Mr. La Marche will be here in a few minutes, but if he’s held up…”
“I’ll go to your place, and if you’re not there, I’ll stop at The Alpha’s home, get your keys and wait for you. I understand that you can’t leave Alpha Mate alone.”
“Frankie…Frankie…” He had hung up. Shit, he knows. René turned to The Alpha Mate.
“What’s wrong René? Your face has gone from red to white.”
“It’s Frankie, I told him to read Colin’s book…he saw the tether yesterday. He called you Alpha Mate. Gods, I’m babbling. He knows. Frankie is on his way over.”
The door to the studio opened. “Baby, I’m home. Come give me a kiss. It’s been too long since I’ve held you.”