by J. P. Bowie
Emily smiled as Johnny led her cousin outside. “She is so funny when she’s had one too many.”
“A happy drunk,” Jerry agreed.
When Jeff returned, drinks in hand, Jerry suggested they find somewhere to sit.
“There’s some room in the den, I think.” They followed him as he led the way into a comfortable room off the living area. After they sat down he said, “Peter, I’d like you to paint a portrait of Emily if you would.” He smiled at his fiancée. “It would be my engagement gift to you, darling.”
“Oh Jerry, that’s so sweet.” Emily took his hand. “But I think Peter is very busy, and I’m such a fidget when it comes to sitting still, even for a photograph.”
But Jerry was adamant. “You would find time for her, wouldn’t you Peter?”
“Of course. And don’t worry, I don’t believe in lengthy sittings.”
“Peter has a photographic memory,” Jeff interjected. “It’s come in quite handy a couple of times.”
“Really?”
“Did you know he was in a coma for three years?”
Jerry nodded. “Yes, Gloria and Johnny told us about your ordeal, Peter. That must have been hellish.”
“When he started to regain some of his memory of the attack, he was able to draw a sketch of one of the perpetrators.”
“Wow,” Jerry exclaimed. “That’s some memory—three years down the road.”
“Well…” Peter set his glass down on a nearby table. “Remember, it didn’t seem like three years to me. Time was like, kaleidoscoped for me into a much shorter time frame. Anyway, Jeff’s right. I could paint you now from just the time we’ve been together. What I like the sittings for are to more or less talk to my subject, get a feel for their personality, the way they smile, move, that kind of thing. Something I can use to make them a real individual, not just a flat image on canvas.”
“So it’s all settled then?” Jerry’s excitement flared in his eyes.
Emily looked nervous at the prospect, so Peter said gently, “Why don’t I call you in the morning and let you know my schedule? I’m sure we can fix up some suitable times.”
“That’s a great idea,” Jerry enthused.
They were interrupted by party guests, some wanting to congratulate Peter on his portrait of Gloria, and others who’d heard of Emily and Jerry’s engagement. For a time they were engaged in small talk, then Peter winked at Jeff who nodded. That was their signal that they were ready to go.
“Well…” Peter got to his feet. “What say we find our merry hostess and bid her a fond farewell?”
After telling everyone good night, and Peter reminding Emily he’d call her in the morning, he and Jeff went off in search of Gloria and Johnny to let them know they were leaving. They found the two of them on the patio, slow dancing now to the strains of some Latin American music.
“Oh, you can’t go yet.” Gloria pouted from the haven of her husband’s arms, but it was a weak protest and she sleepily kissed them both goodbye before pressing her face against Johnny’s chest again and closing her eyes. Johnny grinned at them both over the top of his wife’s head.
“We’ll see ourselves out…”
The room had thinned out now and Peter noticed Charles Hastings standing by the fireplace alone. He was looking grimly around him as he downed what looked like yet another bourbon.
“What a dick,” Peter remarked as they pulled away from the house.
“Who has?”
Peter nudged Jeff with his elbow. “Not who has, who is. Emily’s dad. Didn’t you see him standing by the fireplace looking totally pissed off?”
“Yes, I did. Not a happy man. Now tell me what happened between you and Emily a little while back.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, when I asked you if you were okay?”
“Oh that…” Peter paused to think how he could explain the feeling he’d had. “I sensed something in her that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Some real kind of sadness she can’t quite shake off no matter how happy she is at the moment.”
“You mean like she’s hiding something from everyone?”
“Yeah, something like that. I got the feeling too that she felt the connection with me, just for an instant. That’s probably why I looked a bit funny. Something is definitely wrong between Emily and her father.”
Jeff nodded. “I got the impression he’s not crazy about her marrying Jerry.”
“I wonder why. Jerry seems like a nice guy; good looking, and according to Gloria, comes from a wealthy family.”
“Maybe he’s jealous? Some fathers are you know—jealous of the man who wants to marry his daughter.”
“Could be. He just seems like a nasty type to me. And the mother didn’t have a word to say about anything.”
“Don’t think she’d get much of a chance with him around. He reminds me of the father in that English Victorian story, you know, where he rules the household with an iron fist. Everyone was terrified of him, did exactly what he said. Then one of the daughters stood up to him…”
“You mean The Barretts of Wimpole Street?”
“That’s it. She runs off with the man she loves—the poet…uh, what’s his name…?”
“Robert Browning.”
“Right. She was a poet too, wasn’t she?”
“Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”
They looked at each other then laughed. “Okay, smarty,” Jeff grinned at him. “What’s the penalty for roughing the kicker?”
“Now you got me.” Peter chuckled. “I don’t know a tight receiver from a wide end.”
Jeff roared with laughter. “Ouch. You really do need some education. I’ll give you some lessons when we get home.”
Peter squeezed Jeff’s thigh. “Hands on, I hope.”
“You bet.”
“So step on it, Mister.”
§ § § §
Jerry held Emily in his arms and kissed her gently on the lips. “I hope you didn’t mind my asking Peter to paint your portrait without talking to you first?”
“You are so good to me Jerry. I’m just a little nervous of having it done. Gloria is so beautiful. She’s the perfect one to have a portrait hanging in her house so everyone can admire her. Me?” She paused. “I’m afraid I’ll end up looking like one of those ghastly women you see in museums, all pointy chin and pursed lips.”
“Of course you won’t. You’re a lovely woman and I think Peter’s the one to do you justice. Please do this…if only for me.”
“How can I say no when you put it like that?” She sighed. “If only my father wasn’t being so stupid about all of this.”
“He’ll come around eventually Emily, don’t worry. And if he doesn’t, so what? We’re getting married anyway.”
“Las Vegas, here we come?”
“Well, I was thinking more on the lines of Tahiti or Australia. That way, your Poppa can’t throw any last minute glitches at us.” They chuckled together then Jerry whispered, “I love you, Emily. Nothing will ever change that.”
Emily returned his kiss and hoped fervently, in her heart, that what he said was true. She couldn’t quite erase from her mind the earlier confrontation with her father at Gloria’s party. His drunken rudeness toward Jerry had been deliberate and she knew that he had intended to drive a wedge between Jerry and her. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. If it came to a showdown with her father, Emily would leave and go to Gloria’s house. She was not about to let him destroy her chance at happiness with Jerry. Nothing her father could say or do would change her mind about marrying the man she loved—nothing.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jeff pulled into a parking space behind Joey’s studio in West Hollywood. He had spoken with Joey’s landlord and the man, though sounding like a complete asshole, had agreed to accept two months advance rent on top of the one owing if Jeff delivered a cashier’s check to him personally at Joey’s studio. Despite the inconvenience, Jeff had agreed to meet him and hand over the check.
He knew there was only a slim chance Joey would ever repay him and mentally he had already written it off as a loss. He walked round to the front of the building and scanned the nameplates on the outside.
“Photography by Fernandez” was on the second floor. He sprinted up the stairs and pushed open the glass door that led to a small reception area. Examples of Joey’s work filled the walls and Jeff took a moment to look them over. No doubt the man has talent, he thought, admiring some of the black and white studies of people, buildings, and vistas of oceans and mountains. He was startled momentarily as his eyes met his own, gazing at him from one of the mounted portraits.
God…yes… Joey had taken this photograph of him when they were living together. Must have been at least seven or eight years ago. He was shirtless in the portrait. His naked torso gleamed under the dramatic lighting that revealed every well-honed muscle of his chest and abdomen.
“Sexy guy, eh?”
Jeff turned to see Joey standing behind him, a lazy smile playing around his lips. He came forward and embraced Jeff.
“Thank you for doing this for me.” His lips fluttered over Jeff’s ear.
Jeff disengaged himself from Joey’s arms. “Your landlord here yet?”
“Relax, Jeff…” Joey bared his teeth at him. “I won’t molest you—unless you want me to.” He stepped back. “Come on, I’ll give you the Cook’s tour while we wait for the vulture to arrive…”
They walked into the small studio and Jeff once again found himself face to face with his own likeness. This time it was a full-length portrait. He was standing; his arms and legs spread wide apart, his face upturned. He was naked, but clever lighting shadowed his crotch, leaving what was hidden to the viewer’s imagination. Jeff felt a flush of embarrassment as he gazed at this picture.
“You were so beautiful,” Joey murmured, standing close to him. “Of course, you still are. Only now, you are more the man.”
“It seems like a lifetime ago.” Jeff’s voice was hoarse as he turned to look at some of the other portraits on the wall. Joey’s physical nearness was having an effect on him that he knew was trouble. Deliberately, he walked to the other side of the studio away from where Joey stood; a knowing smile on his lips.
“Who’s this?” Jeff pointed to a picture of a young woman holding a rose between her bare breasts.
“No one.” Joey crossed smoothly to Jeff’s side. “Just a model I use now and then. This one was for an advertisement; can’t remember for what.” Impatiently, he took Jeff’s arm. “Let me show you my latest conquest. He is almost as beautiful as you, almost.” He led Jeff over to a table where several prints were lying. “I only developed these yesterday. What do you think?”
The young man Jeff now looked at spread before him was indeed blessed with an extraordinary beauty. He was naked in every picture; his symmetrical, perfectly sculpted body shown to great effect in the poses Joey had chosen for him. His close cropped black hair gave the planes of his face a harder edge than Jeff cared for, yet something about the face made him lean forward to get a better look.
“Oh, you like this one?” Joey laughed, misinterpreting Jeff’s interest. “It’s a magnificent body, eh?”
“He’s remarkable, that’s for sure. He reminds me of someone. Can’t quite get it. Anyway, where’s that landlord of yours? I have to get going shortly.”
He breathed a sigh of relief when the door to the reception area opened. A short, stocky man in his late thirties appeared in the doorway. He had a thatch of thick red hair, a moustache that needed trimming, and bushy red eyebrows. His icy blue eyes narrowed speculatively as he looked Jeff over.
“Jeff Stevens?”
“That’s right.” Jeff walked forward to meet the man.
“Bob Thomson.” He shook Jeff’s hand coolly. “Well, you must be a good friend to do this for him.” He threw Joey a cold glance. “You can kiss your money goodbye though. He’ll never pay it back. Believe me, I know.”
Joey’s face flushed with anger. “Okay, Bob,” he rasped. “Just take the money and save us the recriminations.”
What’s going on here? Jeff wondered.
Bob noticed the puzzled look on Jeff’s face. “Guess he didn’t tell you the whole story. I’m the one who set him up here. We were in a relationship at the time. He got what he wanted and I was out the door. Couldn’t understand why I could be pissed about the situation. Typical Joey from what I gather now.”
Jeff sighed. So now he was bailing Joey out from the wrath of a former boyfriend. His ex returned Jeff’s frown with an air of innocence.
“I own this building you see,” Bob said. “My folks left it to me. It brings in good money—when the rents are paid on time. Of course, Joey didn’t have to pay rent when we were together. But now he does and he just never seems to have it. Don’t let him fool you, he’s doing well here. He just doesn’t want to use his income for the important things like rent and utilities. No…” He indicated the pictures on the table that Joey had, moments before, proudly shown to Jeff. “…he wants to spend it on that pretty kid he’s lusting after night and day.”
“Okay, that’s enough Bob,” Joey snapped. “Take the damned check and get the hell out of here. I have work to do.”
Bob looked over Jeff’s shoulder at the portrait of him on the wall. “Oh, now I get the connection. You’re the guy on the wall over there.”
“That was done quite some time ago. Joey and I haven’t been in touch for many years.”
“Too bad for you he got a hold of you again.”
“I can handle it, don’t worry. Here’s your check. It’s for the next three months plus the one he’s behind on.”
Bob whistled through his teeth. “He is a good friend, Joey. You better make sure you don’t piss him off any time soon so he can bail you out next time too.” He turned to go then looked back at Joey and smirked. “Just so you know, I saw your new lover out on the town last night. Didn’t see you anywhere around, though. He was playing kiss and show with some dude he was clearly very into…”
“Get out,” Joey yelled.
Bob’s laughter was without mirth as he closed the door behind him.
“Well…” Jeff broke the short silence that had fallen over the studio after Bob’s departure. “You certainly know how to make friends and influence people.”
“That jerk,” Joey growled. “I never liked him from the beginning.”
“But you used him to get what you wanted.”
“He’s loaded. He wanted to do this for me. I didn’t twist his arm.”
“But he thought he was getting you in the bargain, right?”
“He should have known better. Look at him, for Christ’s sake. Dios, you think I could be interested in a man like that?”
“You are quite disgusting at times, you know,” Jeff said quietly.
“I never used you, Jeff.”
“Oh please, let’s not go there. You used me all the years we were together and just now you used our so-called friendship to help bail you out—and as usual, only told me half the story.” Jeff sighed then moved toward the door. “Well, I gotta go.”
Joey stepped in front of him. “Don’t go yet, Jeff. Let me explain how all this happened.”
“I really don’t want to hear the sordid details, Joey. You told me the guy bailed on you. Now I know that was another lie. Anyway, you’ve got what you wanted and I really have to go. I have an appointment in Long Beach in an hour.”
Gently, but firmly, he pushed Joey aside and gripped the doorknob.
“Jeff, please don’t think unkindly of me.” Joey’s eyes brimmed and for a moment Jeff almost relented. Then he saw again in the green depths of Joey’s eyes the practiced manipulation behind the look that was meant to melt his heart.
“Sorry, Joey. Good luck with the studio—and everything.”
Joey watched the door close behind Jeff then walked back into his studio. He went over to the table and picked up one of the photographs he had shown Jeff. His lips
hardened as he looked at the picture of the young man.
“You better not be cheating on me, amigo,” he muttered. “Christ help you if you are.”
§ § § §
Peter’s day had gotten off to a shaky start. After Jeff had left that morning, Peter felt a rush of apprehension watching him drive off. He knew he could trust Jeff. The fact that he had been so open about Joey’s first visit and the reason behind it was proof of that.
It was Joey he didn’t trust.
Peter had formed an impression in his mind of the type of person Joey was, simply by listening to what Jeff had told him, and he was pretty sure he was right. Joey was the kind of man who used his beauty, and the power that it gave him over others, to get what he wanted, regardless of the consequences. Peter was sure that he would try to seduce Jeff again and it annoyed him that he was not there to hinder Joey’s chances. His preoccupation with what might be happening in Joey’s studio at that very moment was interrupted by the phone ringing. Quickly, he picked it up. It might be Jeff…
“Hello?”
“You sound funny.”
“Oh hi, Andrew.” Peter couldn’t quite keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“Well, I’ve had warmer greetings. What’s bugging you?”
“Sorry, I was expecting Jeff to call.”
“Something wrong?”
“No, no. Just me being paranoid. What’s up with you?”
“Are you doing anything right now?”
“No. Want to come over?”
“I’m right outside, actually. I’d like to talk to you.”
Peter looked out the living room window and saw Andrew’s car parked on the driveway. “Well come on in, silly. You know you don’t need an invitation.”
“Be right there.”
This sounded serious and Peter hoped there was nothing wrong with Andrew, or with his relationship with his lover, David. He had been Peter’s closest friend since he had come out of the coma. Andrew had been his physical therapist and had helped him learn to walk again, but even more importantly had been there as a friend to get him through the dark times of his depression. Peter would never forget how supportive Andrew and David had been. Since the beginning of Peter’s relationship with Jeff, the four of them had been almost inseparable.