Bleu Balls

by Tara Lain

  Howard moaned elaborately. “Mmmm. Best tomato ever.” He whispered, “You devil.”

  In another Bobby gesture, Robin planted a hand on his own chest. “Moi?” He turned back to his plate but casually glanced over at Paolo, who was talking to Asshole Man next to him, but a crease rode the space between his dark eyebrows.

  A man at the podium called for their attention and started thanking people for their help with the event. Lots of applause. Robin’s gaze kept sneaking to Paolo, who would flash a look at Robin and then shift in his chair. Good. I hope your cock turns blue.

  The host at the mic prompted them all to get their final bids in for the silent auction while the waiters served the main course. Chairs scraped and people hurried toward the tables, creating near collisions with the servers propelling forward in the opposite direction.

  Joseph said to Paolo, “I wanna check my bid on the car. You coming?”

  “No. You go ahead.”

  Howard rose gracefully next to him. “Come along, Robin. Let’s see if there’s anything you want among the auction items.”

  Robin laughed and almost hugged Howard right there. No wonder Bobby had picked the man. What a kind person. Robin stood regally, took Howard’s arm, and sailed to the table without ever looking toward Paolo, but his back practically burst into flames from the heat of the gaze that must be boring into him. Robin leaned in. “Can I just say that you’re the best?”

  Howard chuckled softly. “Ah, I’ve just been playing the game a long time, my dear. Lots of practice.”

  At the auction table crowded with people, Howard said, “See anything you like?”

  “Don’t be silly, darling. You don’t need to bid on things for me.”

  “How-ard.”

  The musical voice came from behind them. Howard’s arm froze under Robin’s hand. Robin glanced up and saw the smile applied to Howard’s face like so much paint on a canvas. Howard turned slowly, still clinging to Robin.

  Ahead of them stood a slender man with a full head of shockingly perfect silver hair, dark brows, and the face of a twink aging well. Howard nodded. “Eldon. What a surprise.”

  Eldon alternately glared at Robin and smiled at Howard. “Why a surprise? I love raising money for the children. You know that.”

  Howard smiled softly. “Yes, I do. Eldon, this is my friend Robin McMillan, the artist.” He said it as if the entire world would know the name, and Robin extended his hand with the same conceit.

  “Good to meet you.”

  Eldon examined Robin through narrowed eyes, appraising but not nasty. “I’ve seen your work at the festival.”

  “I see.” Robin held his breath waiting for snark. It didn’t come.

  “Your work is very good. Exceptional, even. I made a note to return to the festival and seriously look at your paintings.” He gazed at Howard with so much longing in his eyes, Robin could have painted it. “Howard always has the very best taste.”

  Robin nodded. “You’re kind.” He glanced at Howard. “But then, Howard would never have chosen to love anyone who wasn’t kind.”

  Eldon slapped a hand to his mouth and tears flashed to his eyes. “Oh.”

  Howard met Eldon’s eyes. He never stopped holding Robin’s arm, but his whole soul seemed to flow out to the man in front of them.

  Eldon whispered, “Yes, he did love me—once.”

  Howard spoke so softly Robin barely heard it. “Once and always.”

  “I’m such a fool.”

  Howard frowned. “No—”

  Robin stuck up a hand. “Oh yes, he is. And so are you, Howard. Breaking up for whatever reasons is one thing. Breaking up when you so clearly love each other is ridiculous.”

  A very handsome, studly young guy suddenly appeared at Eldon’s side. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over, man. Come on or we’ll miss the last bids.” He pulled, and Eldon stared at Howard as he walked away.

  “We’ll talk?”

  Howard nodded. “Oh yes.”

  Eldon smiled sweetly at Robin. “Thank you.” He disappeared into the crowd.

  Howard wiped at his face. “What just happened? He laughed.

  “I think the earth moved and you and the guy you love are on your way to making up.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “Nah. You would have done it anyway.”

  Howard turned and held Robin’s biceps as he stared levelly at him. “I’m not so sure of that.” He pulled him toward the auction. “Come on.”

  Robin stood glancing toward Paolo’s stiff back as Howard shouldered his way into the crush of bidders. He was gone several minutes, then returned, smiling, and they went back to the table. By the time they sat, their plates of roast beef and turkey were already there, and they fell to eating.

  Robin chatted with Bobby and Micah, but Howard smiled at Paolo. “I heard about the TechZel building. Congratulations.”

  Paolo nodded. “Thank you.” He gave a funny little smile. “We’re excited about it.”

  Joseph said, “Yes. Mo and I go way back.”

  Robin’s jaw tightened.

  Howard nodded. “Yes, so I heard. He told me he was surprised to learn that you knew Paolo—after he’d selected him.” The pause was so slight, he might have imagined it. Robin squeezed Howard’s hand, and Paolo looked up with surprise and pleasure in his eyes.

  Paolo said, “I’m glad you weren’t in the running for that one, Howard, or we’d never have been so lucky.”

  “Quite the contrary. You always give us a run for our money.”

  As the waiters started collecting plates, the host reappeared at the podium. “We’re going to start announcing the winners of the silent auction prizes as soon as you all have your coffee. I’d personally like to thank our many silent benefactors who so generously contribute to the auction without actually bidding on the prizes.”

  Robin glanced at Howard. That would be his speed, for sure.

  The waiter silently filled their cups and offered a choice of desserts. Bobby picked the chocolate bombe and Robin opted for a lemon tart. He laughed. “It suits my sour personality.”

  Howard grinned. “I’d go with ‘tangy.’”

  That crease reappeared on Paolo’s forehead.

  They began reading the winners of the many prizes, and people cheered and ran up to collect their certificates that entitled them to pick up their prizes at the entrance later. There were so many, it got kind of boring except when Micah won a case of champagne. He presented his certificate to Bobby and got a huge hug in return.

  Joseph bounced his knee and looked at his watch. “When are they going to get to the car?”

  “I expect that comes last.” Paolo gave him a tight smile.

  Finally, the MC said, “And now for the grand prize, which I assure you has garnered a very substantial contribution to the kids. Our thanks to the Classic Class Ferrari dealership for their amazing donation of this beautiful automobile.” He chuckled. “Are you holding your breath?” Everyone laughed. Joseph’s knee bounced harder. “The winner of the auction for the new Ferrari is—Robin McMillan.”

  There were murmurs and applause, but Robin barely heard them. What the hell? He looked around like the Mad Hatter would soon appear. Howard grabbed his arms. “Go get your prize.”

  “What?”

  “Go get it.” Howard beamed so hard he could have lit the room.

  “But—”

  “Mr. McMillan.” The MC’s voice got him moving. He rose and walked up to the podium, where a pretty girl handed him his certificate and a photographer flashed pictures as he looked bewildered. Holding the envelope, he managed to get back to the table. A few people patted him as he went by, and a lot of whispers happened behind hands.

  He plopped in the chair. “You can’t do this.”

  Howard laughed. “Watch me.”

  Joseph sputtered, “What the hell happened?”

  Paolo’s cold voice pierced Robin’s fog. “Howard bought a Ferrari for Robin.”

>   Howard put a warm hand on Robin’s arm. “To thank you for—everything.”

  Paolo’s voice hissed. “I’m sure he was cheap at twice the price.”

  That icy retort might as well have been a shot of rocket fuel. Robin leaped from the chair and leaned halfway across the table at Paolo. “What would you know about kindness or generosity, you self-righteous asshole?”

  “It’s better than being a—” A cell phone started ringing, and Paolo grabbed at his pocket. “Damn.” He pulled it out and stared, then clicked. “Yes?” He listened, his angry face turning to fear. “What?”

  Suddenly a good-looking Hispanic man, dressed casually in contrast to the sea of monkey suits, pressed through the space between tables where diners were just starting to stand and proceed toward the dancing scheduled to happen in the next reception area. He pressed a hand to Paolo’s back as Paolo looked more and more upset listening to his phone. “Boss, I came to get you in case you didn’t hear your phone.”

  Paolo put a hand on the guy’s shoulder and kept listening. “Okay. Tell the police. I’ll be right there.” He stood and looked at the Hispanic guy. “Thanks, man.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Just keep things running until I get back.” He looked around frantically. “Joseph, can I borrow your car?”

  “Shit, no. How will I get home?”

  The Hispanic guy pressed some keys into Paolo’s hand. “Here.”

  Howard said, “Don’t worry. We’ll take him home. Can we help you?”

  “No, thanks. Family emergency.”

  Robin’s whole body trembled from the leftover anger and truthfully from concern for Paolo.

  Paolo started toward the door. Robin moved on his own. He took two steps and grabbed the Hispanic guy. “What’s happening?”

  The guy frowned. “You’re the artist?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A problem with his mom.”

  “Is she sick?”

  He glanced around as if to be sure no one was listening, then said, “She’s lost. She’s an alcoholic. Her caregiver lost track of her. The police are on their way.”

  “Where is she?”

  “In Laguna Hills.”

  No thought. Robin tossed the winner’s certificate to Howard, kissed his cheek, and ran like a shot toward the door where he saw Paolo’s disappearing back. Bobby called, “Robin. They need you for prize photos.”

  Robin called back, “You do it” and kept running.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  PAOLO RUSHED into the parking lot, beeping the key lock since he couldn’t quite remember what Alonzo’s car looked like. The sound of footsteps behind him made him stop. Joseph? Maybe he’ll drive so I can look out the window for Mom? He turned. “Thanks for—What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Robin stopped a couple of yards away, his newly black hair as shiny as his tux. “I want to come with you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I know a lot about drunks. I can help.”

  Paolo almost shook his head, he was so confused. “Uh, I know a lot about drunks too. I was raised by one.”

  “Yes, but she’s your mother, so your judgment is bound to be off. Just give me the keys and I’ll drive. Then you can call the cops or whoever else you need to talk to.” He held out a hand.

  Paolo crossed his arms. “Don’t you want to drive your new Ferrari?”

  Robin planted his hands on his hips. “Give it up, Paolo. The time for stupid cock-teasing games is over. Give me the fucking keys.”

  Before he could even think, Paolo held them out. Robin walked forward and grabbed them, looked at the key, glanced around the lot, seemed to recognize a likely car, and clicked the lock. Sure enough. Beep. He jogged to the shiny Camry.

  Paolo closed his mouth and followed him, then climbed into the passenger seat. As he fastened his belt, he said, “How’d you do that?”

  Robin pressed the starter. “The guy who came to get you looked like he might drive a sensible car.” He scooted the seat forward, checked the mirrors, and headed out of the lot. “Okay, Laguna Hills.” He turned toward the entrance to the freeway.

  Through his panic for his mom, some sheer amazement at Robin’s cool efficiency still seeped through. Paolo called and discovered the police were looking and the neighbors had been questioned. No luck so far.

  Robin turned right into the residential neighborhood where Paulo kept the home for his mom. “Nobody’s seen her yet?”

  Paulo shook his head but kept staring out the window. “No.” God, his stomach practically ripped a hole in his abdomen, it was so cramped.

  “I know how it is. You want to kill them a lot of the time, but you don’t want them to die.”

  Paulo looked over his shoulder. “That’s exactly how I feel. Turn right at the next corner.”

  A police car sat parked in front of the house. Robin pulled up, and Paolo was out the door and across the lawn before he heard the car door close behind him. Inside the house, Ida sat with her hands gripped between her thighs and a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

  Paulo strode across the room. “Sorry I wasn’t here. I’m Paolo Lind, Mrs. Lindero’s son. I understand she got intoxicated and can’t be found.”

  The officer whose nametag said Ellison rose. “Yes. We’re trying to determine if this is habitual behavior. Ms. Archuleta doesn’t seem to grasp what I’m asking.”

  Paulo asked her the question in Spanish, remaining neutral in case the cop spoke two languages. He widened his eyes a bit as he spoke.

  “No.”

  Ellison said, “So it’s not habitual?”

  “My mother is forgetful. She likes to drink and literally forgets how much she’s had. She did this once before. I appreciate the police helping us find her.”

  “Perhaps she needs better supervision.”

  Paolo’s mouth opened and fists clenched. A warm hand clutched his shoulder.

  Robin said, “As you know, it’s difficult to find the right kind of facility for people who are mostly cognizant and behave normally. Mrs. Lind has an excellent caregiver.”

  “Lind?” The cop frowned.

  Paolo said, “Lindero. Sorry. This is Robin McMillan. An associate. He knows me as Lind.”

  Robin looked at Ida. “Would it be okay if I asked you some questions?”

  Paolo said, “Él va a hacer preguntas, sí?”

  She nodded but kept staring at Paolo. He patted her hand.

  Robin gave him an interested look. “So you’ll translate?”

  “She speaks English. She just gets a little flustered sometimes.”

  Robin sat on a chair beside Ida. Ellison made notes from across the room. Robin said, “Where is Mrs. Lind’s, uh, Lindero’s favorite place? Where does she always want you to take her?”

  “The mall.” She nodded rapidly. “She loves the fish and to look at the—” She made a motion as if painting her lips.

  Robin said, “Lipstick? Cosmetics?”

  She smiled.

  Robin glanced at Paolo. “Would she know how to get there from here?”

  “It’s a ways. She’d have to cross a bunch of big streets. Even the freeway entrance, for fuck’s sake. It’s dark out.”

  “I think we better look there.” Robin stood.

  Paolo frowned. “But it’ll be closed.”

  “She might not know that.”

  “Shit.”

  Ellison said, “I’ll send a squad car.”

  Paolo held up a hand. “Can we have a chance to find her first? She might run if she sees police.” He glanced at Robin. “Bad associations from earlier in her life.”

  “I’ll send the car but ask them to hang back for a few minutes.”

  “Thank you.” Paolo turned to Ida. “Stay here in case she comes back.”

  She nodded, folding her sweater tightly over her chest.

  Robin hurried to the door with Paolo behind him. When they got in the car, Paolo said, “Why’d you think to ask that?�
��

  He pulled out from the curb, and Paolo pointed toward the next turn. Robin said, “When my uncle was drunk, if I didn’t find him at the bar, he’d be in his favorite park, where he liked to watch a few mangy animals they kept in cages. I’d just go round him up.”

  “How old were you?” Paolo stared at Robin’s pretty face.

  He shrugged as he turned right on Moulton. “Started when I was about six or seven, I guess. He was the first one to figure out that we were gay—not real popular in our neighborhood. But he stood up for us. He meant to be a good influence, but he was a drunk. Nobody admitted it in my family, so they sent me to him all the time. I always figured my mother liked Bobby around best. He was so bright and I was so moody. She didn’t know she was sending me to be the caretaker for an alcoholic.” A flash of deep pain seared across his face. “At least I hope she didn’t.”

  “Didn’t Bobby have to go too?”

  “I wouldn’t let him. Eventually Harold stopped asking.”

  “Shit, Robin.”

  He pointed as he stopped the car. “We’re here.” He carefully surveyed the outdoor mall in front of them. It was mostly dark, but outdoor lights cast a soft glow. “Let’s start with wherever the fish are.”

  Paolo nodded and climbed out of the car. They trotted to the escalator that ran up to the next level, and Paolo led the way to the koi fishpond in the center space. His mom loved the fish. Especially the bright yellow ones. The first time she’d ever seen them—real fish in a shopping center instead of metal detectors—she’d sat there for half an hour, letting them nibble her fingers. That memory brought a little heat behind his eyes.

  They stopped near the pond, and Paolo wandered all the way around, gazing into the shadows. He glanced at Robin, who stared at him with wide eyes. “Nobody.” Damn. “Not here. It seemed like a good idea.”

  “Don’t give up yet.” Robin stared around until he faced the large Nordstrom sign that shone in the dark. “Let’s try there. They’ve got lots of cosmetics.”

  “It’s closed.”

  “And—like I said.”

  “Okay.”

  Robin took off in a power walk, and Paolo watched his tight ass twitch under his beautiful tux jacket. Paolo had been so happy to have any help he could get, he hadn’t really stopped to think, but—he rushed ahead and grabbed Robin’s arm. “Hey.”