“Hello?” he whispered into the receiver, concerned.
“Blake? Blake Danzig?”
The English accent told him right away that it was Clive Damon on the other end of the line. Blake was suddenly both relieved and irritated. Relieved because it wasn’t the police calling to say that someone he loved was lying in the morgue but irritated that Clive had disturbed him at such an early hour. He collapsed back onto his pillow with the receiver still to his ear. He did his best to not sound irate.
“Clive.” He sighed. “It’s five o’clock in the morning here. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, of course,” Clive replied cordially. “Sorry. I forgot about the time difference. It’s one in the afternoon here…tomorrow, or whatever it is.”
He forced a laugh that made Blake want to hang up.
“What can I do for you, Clive?” Blake asked evenly. He looked over at Joe, who had fortunately fallen back to sleep.
“Well, you see, it’s just that I plan to be in your neck of the woods this weekend and was hoping that we could have dinner.”
“Clive, I’m seeing someone now. I don’t think that that would be a good idea.”
Clive laughed again, but, this time, his laugh was haughty and dismissive. “Dear boy. I am not proposing anything untoward. I simply wish to discuss a business proposal with you. Bring along your new love, if you like, and your charming co-host. Melody, isn’t it?”
“You should talk to my agent about that sort of thing—”
“Nonsense,” Clive drawled. “Either I talk to you or I talk to no one. There are plenty of other paranormal shows I can approach.”
“But our two are the best,” Blake replied dryly.
“Precisely. What do you say?”
“All right. When do you arrive?”
*
Despite her vehement dislike for Clive Damon, Blake was able to convince Melody to accompany him to dine with the Englishman. Her one condition was that she be allowed to bring Hope, and Blake readily agreed. “The more sane people present, the better,” he joked.
Her bluff called, Melody had no option other than to attend the dinner, which Blake had booked at the restaurant atop the St. Francis Hotel on Union Square. Being the closest two to the hotel, Blake and Joe arrived first, followed quickly by Melody and Hope, who was in uniform. Melody, on the other hand, wore a strapless black cocktail dress and patent-leather high heels.
“You look terrific,” Blake said, pulling a chair out for Melody.
“I feel like Jodie Foster at the Academy Awards,” she grumbled as she took her seat.
“Sorry about the uniform,” Hope said. “I have to go to work after dinner.”
“You look great, too,” Blake replied.
Melody looked around. “So where’s His Lordship?”
Just then, there was a commotion at the door and they turned to see Clive, signing autographs for two starstruck women. Blake stood and motioned to him, and he approached the table with a wide smile.
“Blake Danzig!” he called as he approached.
Melody rolled her eyes, which made Joe laugh.
“Hello, Clive.” Blake cast an evil look at Melody. “Please, have a seat.”
As Clive sat between Hope and Joe, Blake made introductions.
“It’s comforting to see that we have an officer of the law present,” Clive said when he met Hope. “And, of course, I am familiar with Melody.”
When Blake introduced Joe, however, Clive’s face twisted into a mischievous grin. “So,” he said, gripping Joe’s hand tight, “you’re Blake’s new love.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you,” Joe replied. “I’m a big fan of your show.”
“Thank you,” Clive said. “I truly appreciate my many, many fans. Tell me, Joe, what is your profession?”
“Um, I actually have two jobs,” Joe, reddening. “I’m a waiter at a restaurant here in San Francisco and I bartend part-time.”
“How charming,” Clive winked at Blake, “a real food-service professional.”
His obvious condescension infuriated Blake but he held his tongue. He tried to ignore Clive’s dig and picked up the menu on the table in front of him. “Why don’t we order appetizers?”
*
The majority of the dinner conversation was provided courtesy of Clive, who talked endlessly of his paranormal experiences and the inherent dangers involved in the undertaking of ghost hunting.
“Most lay people,” Clive said, directing his gaze at Joe, “simply do not understand what is involved when you come face-to-face with a spirit.”
He was on his fourth martini, and Blake could see that it was beginning to have an effect on him. With any luck he would pass out.
“Which is what brings me to my proposal, which I briefly mentioned in Albuqueque. I have given it a lot of serious thought since then and wanted to reassure you that I am serious about it,” Clive pronounced. “Only you, Blake, are as experienced as I in the field of paranormal research, which is why I think we should combine forces.”
“What exactly do you have in mind?” Blake asked. His head was beginning to hurt from Clive’s incessant bragging, and he touched Joe’s leg under the tablecloth. All he really wanted to do was to go home and fuck Joe’s brains out, not sit and listen to this fraud’s endless self-glorification.
“I propose,” Clive said, pausing for dramatic effect, “that we create one program by combining our two. We would share staff and resources and call it…I don’t know…Haunted Planet…or something of the sort.”
“Like I said on the phone,” Blake replied, “that isn’t a decision I can make on my own. You need to contact Marty or Donatella.”
“You seemed rather interested in the idea in New Mexico,” Clive snapped, his voice suddenly slurred. “Or was that just when we were together in my hotel room?”
Melody, who had been quiet through most of the meal, dropped her fork, which clattered on her plate. She stared disbelievingly at Blake. “Are you serious?” she asked, looking scandalized. “You said you two just had a couple of drinks.”
“And then a bit more ‘refreshment,’” Clive said, looking from Melody to Blake and licking his lips lasciviously. He turned his icy stare to Joe. “If I were you,” he said, clearly relishing the moment, “I’d keep a close eye on him, although that might prove difficult given how much traveling he does.”
Joe turned and met Clive’s icy gaze. “For your information, Mr. Damon, Blake and I are moving in together. As for what he did before we were a couple, I couldn’t give a damn.”
For a moment Blake wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly. His heart was pounding and he stared at Joe, who was beaming at him.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
“I love you. What’s a broken lease compared to that?”
They kissed passionately.
“Thanks, baby,” Blake whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”
Blake stood and motioned for their waiter, who rushed to the table.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Danzig?”
“We’re leaving,” he said, handing a wad of hundred-dollar bills to the waiter. “This should cover tonight, as well as a good tip.” He gestured to Clive, who was still seated. “Anything else he wants,” Blake said, emboldened, “he can pay for.”
The waiter took the money and walked away.
“You’re making a foolish mistake,” Clive said. His eyes were narrowed and he looked angrier than Blake would have ever imagined him capable.
“No, I already did that once. I’m not doing it again.”
“Fine.” Clive’s expression was one of indifference. “I’ll contact another of the shows.”
“Like you said,” Blake replied, “we’re the best, so go ahead. Good-bye, Clive.” He turned and headed toward the elevator, Joe right behind him.
Clive turned to Melody, who had remained in her seat. “What about you?” he asked. “Surely you’re interested in bettering yourself.”
> Melody arose, terribly uncomfortable, and Hope followed her cue. “I’m happy where I am,” she said, wanting to spit in the man’s face. She started to go, then suddenly turned back to Clive. “And, by the way, I think you’re a horrible fraud!”
*
Back in their condo, Blake and Joe pulled and ripped at one another’s clothing, desperately hungry for the naked bodies beneath.
Joe attacked Blake’s hot body like an animal, biting and scratching him passionately. He pushed Blake onto the sofa and pulled off his briefs, which were already sporting a large wet spot of pre-come dripping from his erection. Joe took the boner into his mouth, hungrily deep-throating it as if he was starving. Blake groaned, the hot throat on his dick almost too much to bear. He pulled at Joe’s hair, forcing him farther down onto his throbbing cock and tugging Joe’s nipples. Joe suddenly stopped sucking his cock. “Wait here,” he whispered, and rushed to the bedroom. He reappeared shortly, carrying condoms and lube. He unrolled a condom onto Blake’s fat cock and coated it with lube. He then squatted above him and lowered himself onto the erection, slowly letting Blake fill him. Blake closed his eyes as Joe’s warm body enveloped him.
“Oh, fuck, baby,” he groaned. “You feel so good. Ride me.”
Joe began to move rhythmically on the stiff cock, his own boner slapping against his tight stomach. “God,” he gasped, “your cock fills me up.”
Blake played with Joe’s erect nipples as he rode his cock. Joe’s ass felt so good, like it fit his dick so perfectly.
“I love you, Joe,” Blake whispered.
Suddenly, as if he had said an incantation, Joe’s dick sprayed come all over Blake’s torso and face, even though he wasn’t touching himself.
“Shit,” Joe groaned, “you got me off without touching my cock.”
The contractions of Joe’s ass while he came were enough to coax Blake into his own orgasm, and his body convulsed with the effort.
*
Later, after they had showered and gotten into bed, Blake held Joe tight.
“I love you,” Joe whispered also.
They kissed and Blake looked into Joe’s sleepy eyes. “I will always love you,” he replied, “even after you die.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Despite his initial reservations about moving into Blake’s Nob Hill condominium, Joe’s move went smoothly and, he had to admit, he felt at home. Though he admitted to Blake that he had always prized his Castro Street address—if only for convenience—Joe quickly fell under the spell of Nob Hill and told Blake he felt as though he had finally arrived at the place he was meant to be. And, two months later, Blake received news that his father was finally coming to San Francisco for his promised visit. Joe was understandably nervous about meeting the elder Danzig.
“What if he doesn’t like me?” Joe asked. “I can always go and stay with friends while he’s in town.”
“Don’t be crazy. My dad is great. Besides,” he joked, “that’s why I was smart enough to buy a two-bedroom condo.”
Joe’s nervousness was palpable in the days leading up to Ben’s visit, however, and Blake constantly implored him to relax. “My dad knows I’m gay. Besides, why wouldn’t he love you?”
Joe had no reasonable argument and so went, half-heartedly, with Blake in a rented car to the airport to pick up his father.
Even though he could easily afford a car, Blake didn’t see the need for one, opting instead to walk wherever he needed to go. San Francisco, he reasoned, was one of the most walkable cities in the world and he credited this for his good physical condition. His father’s visit, however, was a different thing, so he had decided to rent the car from an agency just down the hill.
They parked the rental in short-term parking, reserved for arrivals, and made their way to meet Blake’s father. After a short wait, they saw Ben Danzig carrying a duffel bag and a cardboard box. Blake hugged his father and promptly took the duffel bag, over Ben’s protestations.
“I can carry that,” he said. “I’m not that old.”
“How was your flight?” Blake asked, ignoring his father.
“Really nice. You didn’t have to put me in first class, though.”
“Dad, this is Joe, my partner.”
A look of acceptance crept across Ben’s face after he had appraised him and, still holding the small cardboard box, he extended his hand in greeting.
“Nice to meet you, Joe. Anyone good enough to put up with my boy is all right in my book.”
Joe instantly seemed at ease with Ben and offered to carry the box, though Ben kindly refused.
“Thanks,” he said, “but it’s fragile and it’s a gift for Blake.”
As they chatted about the flight and the day in general, they walked to the parking garage in search of the rental car.
*
When they arrived at the Nob Hill condo, Melody and her new girlfriend were waiting for them. Blake, who knew his father would like to meet his co-star, had invited them and arranged for a large spread of food to be laid out for the gathering.
“What a surprise,” Ben said. He set his box down and turned to Melody. “I brought this for Blake but, what with you being a witch and all, I’ll bet you’ll be interested in it, too.”
Everyone gathered around the table where Ben had placed the box. He opened it and carefully lifted out a large crystal ball.
“Since this was your mother’s,” Ben said, “I thought you’d like to have it.”
Blake’s eyes grew misty and he hugged his father.
“Your mother told me to bring it to you,” Ben said, his face flushed.
Blake looked at his father. “What do you mean? Don’t tell me you can talk to ghosts now, too.”
Ben laughed nervously. “Your mother and I set up a system,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “If she wants something to go to someone, she puts their picture beside the object.”
Blake regarded his father suspiciously, but it was clear from Ben’s expression that he was not only telling the truth but was proud of his ingenuity.
“I wasn’t sure at first,” he said. “So I said ‘Lila, if you want me to give this to Blake, put his picture back.’ The next morning, your picture was right back in the same spot.”
“Thank you,” Blake whispered. “I’m not sure if I’ll know how to use it.”
“I’ll teach you,” Melody said. “I’ve got my own, but it’s not as nice as this one.”
“There’s something else,” Ben said, pulling two small books from the box. “These were your mother’s journals. I…we, that is, your mother and I thought you should have them, too.”
Ben extracted an ornate base and placed the crystal sphere on top of it as Blake absently flipped through one of his mother’s journals. They were in Spanish, and some of the earliest dates were before he had even been born. He quickly closed the book, fearing what he might find.
Suddenly, the telephone rang. Blake’s first instinct was to ignore it but, at a loss for words over the gifts, he answered. It was Marty, who excitedly explained that, based on what Blake had told him about Clive’s offer, the executives at FX had decided to counter with their own offer. Obviously, he explained, the big shots had viewed Clive’s offer as a threat and had decided to move quickly for fear of losing their star.
“What offer?” Blake asked.
“To take the show national. No more Haunted California…now Haunted America!”
Marty continued to explain that, along with more travel, he and Melody would receive a pay increase. Blake was silent, stunned by the news.
“This is good news, kid,” Marty said. “I’ll come by in a couple of days with the paperwork.”
“Thanks, Marty,” Blake managed to say.
“Oh, and, kid,” Marty said without missing a beat, “the Golden Gate Bridge thing is a go. I got the necessary permits from city hall and the studio is psyched about the idea.”
“That’s great.” Blake was stunned by the onslaught of good news. He hung up,
almost speechless. The room had fallen silent during the call and all eyes were on him. Slowly, he repeated the conversation with Marty, point by point.
“That’s great news, son,” Ben said. “Congratulations.”
“Yeah,” Blake replied unconvincingly.
“Come on.” Joe threw his arms around Blake. “This is great news! I’m really proud of you, too.”
Then, so no one else could hear, he whispered in Blake’s ear, “We’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thanks,” Blake replied. “I really needed to hear that.”
*
After Melody and Hope left and Ben had gone off to the spare room, Blake and Joe went to bed and held each other for a long time. Eventually Joe dozed off, but Blake was unable to sleep, filled with a mixture of excitement and fear. Could they survive what was to come as a couple? Blake certainly hoped so. God knew that he loved Joe and would do anything to make things work. And the timing of the whole thing, so soon after his confrontation with Clive Damon, struck him as suspicious. Was it possible that Clive was behind it, trying to drive a wedge between him and Joe?
And then there were his mother’s old journals. He wondered why his father had given them to him. He picked one up and held it in his hand. Maybe she revealed the source of his powers within the pages. He started to open it, but paused. It seemed a little invasive, he reflected, to read something so personal, something that had never been meant for someone else’s eyes. He shook his head and tucked the old books away in his sock drawer. He would decide about this some other time. Right now he was tired. Tired from entertaining company, tired from the excitement of Marty’s news…just tired, and all he wanted was to sleep. He would have time enough later to worry about what the future might or might not bring. Blake looked at the clock on the bedside table.
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