by Willa Okati
No. They were all there in black and white.
Seth didn't want anything more to do with him.
Slowly, Clay crumpled the note in his fist and dropped it to the floor. Seth could clean up after himself when he got up in the morning, before or after Clay left. Might be early. After all, he'd be looking for a new apartment to move into.
Leaving Seth alone.
Chapter Ten
"Oh, sweetheart," Jeri clucked, rising out of her computer chair. "You look like death warmed over. What on earth happened to you?" She reached for Clay's hands, regardless of her own perfect manicure. "Not only that, you're cold as ice. Honey, what's wrong?"
Clay attempted to summon up a smile. "I'm fine, Jeri. Don't worry."
"Don't worry?" The beautiful trannie made a moue with her carmine lips. "Don't you go telling me such rubbish, now. You're not due into the room for another five, so you sit down and spill the beans. What's got your handsome, happy face turned down like you're heading to a funeral?"
"Yeah, the room… that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," Clay hedged. "I don't think I'm up to meeting and greeting today, Jeri. I wanted to get a refund and go home. Can I do that?"
Jeri's plucked eyebrows raised. "Oh, honey, absolutely not. No refunds, or don't you remember that from the waiver you signed? You're down for at least one man today, all paid up."
Clay thought of his nearly-empty wallet and groaned. "Are you sure?"
"Who runs this business, mister, you or me?" Jeri waved a hand dismissively. "Okay, management runs it. But anyone with any common sense knows that the real mover and shaker is their secretary/receptionist. I'm out on the front lines every day, after all. No refunds, and there are at least two men who are just dying to meet you."
"Yeah. Two men, when I'd rather have just one," Clay muttered. Seth's door had stayed shut all night long -- he'd lain awake in the dark, listening for any sound -- and he hadn't emerged when Clay had come out for coffee and toast, and, at a loss for what to do, taken off for the speed dating agency. He sure as hell didn't want to be there, but where else was he going to go?
His face hardened. Besides, if Seth didn't want him, he'd damn well find someone who did.
"I've changed my mind," he said abruptly. "Let me at 'em."
"Hmm." Jeri put her fingertips together beneath her chin. "I'd say 'good for you', but something tells me your motives aren't exactly pure. What is it, honey? Man troubles?"
"You'd have to have a man to have troubles with him," Clay said bitterly.
"Oh, no, you don't. I recognize the look on your face now. You've fallen in love with some dashing young stud, and he's blown you off, hasn't he?"
He wasn't exactly the one doing the initial blowing, but -- "Yeah, close enough."
"So? Do you want to tell Jeri all about it? Get things off your chest?"
Clay made a face. "No. God, no. It's a long and messy story, Jeri. I don't want to relive one minute. I need to move on with my life, and I guess that starts with going into this room."
Jeri eyed him for another moment, then rolled her eyes and started typing on a keyboard below the desk. "Room three," she said after a moment. "You paid for one, but there are two men here this morning who want to see you. Do you want to do either/or, or go for both?"
"Both," Clay said recklessly, reaching in his pocket for his last twenty until the next payday. What the hell? He could draw a little against his savings if he needed to, and he could skip lunch. Maybe go for a walk on the beach. Maybe call Jefferson and see if he wanted a run. He had options, didn't he? His happiness didn't depend on whether or not Seth wanted to be a part of his life.
It didn't.
Really.
"Okay, sweet thing." Jeri took the bill and made it disappear with an elegantly practiced movement. "Room three, like I said. Give me a few minutes, and I'll send the first candidate in."
"Sure." Clay paused. "Jeri?"
"Uh-huh, honey?"
"Where do all these guys come from?" Clay gestured to indicate the empty reception area. "I mean, do you have some kind of machine that yanks them through the time/space continuum when they're needed?"
Jeri burst into giggles. "Silly! No, no, no. There's a separate entrance." She pointed to a space behind an overgrown fichus. "That leads to a room where they all wait. And would you believe the number of hookups taking place in that very room?" She clucked her tongue. "Sometimes they don't even make it into the meet and greets."
"My two guys, though?"
"Oh, they're all eager. No straying for them." Jeri clicked a final sequence into her computer. Satisfied, she reached for a key and pressed it into Clay's palm. "Get ready, sugar. Almost showtime. Wash that man right out of your hair, okay?"
"Yeah." Clay grimly tightened his fist around the smooth metal. "That's the plan."
"Go get 'em, tiger!" Jeri cheered him on before turning back to her paperwork. Clay had half an impulse to bend down and kiss her smooth cheek for being such a trouper, but decided against it. She might think he was getting fresh, and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of a redhead's temper tantrum.
Room three was one he hadn't been in before, and Clay thought he liked it. Room one was built on utilitarian lines, without any art or decorations. This felt more like a posh hotel room, with comfortable padded chairs, a nice oriental carpet, and a tapestry hanging on the wall. Some nice potted plants, too. Huh. Maybe they hadn't gotten around to decorating "one" yet -- or maybe Jeri had felt sorry enough for him to give Clay the deluxe accommodations.
Clay sighed, slumping down into the far chair. It sproinged under his weight, molding to his body. He couldn't help making a noise of appreciation. Very, very nice.
Now, all he had to do was wait for Bachelor Number One. God. He shook his head at the patheticness of it all. If he just hadn't blown things with Seth, no pun intended, he might have been waking up to a breakfast with the man. There could have been embarrassed looks followed by grins and laughter, easygoing teasing, and plans for the day. Talks about relationships. Instead, here he was, and who knew where Seth would be heading?
A soft knock sounded at the door. Clay tilted his head in interest. "Well, that's new," he muttered. Then, louder -- "Come in!"
The door slid open, and a tall, thin man slipped inside. Clay blinked. Whoever this was, he had to be at least twenty years older than himself. Not bad-looking, though, not at all. All the same… "I think you might have made a mistake," he said kindly as he could. "I'm Clay. Were you looking for someone else?"
"No, this is the right room. Clay is the man I've come to meet." The man flashed him a half-apologetic smile, then indicated the chair. "May I?"
Clay felt confused, but nodded. "Please."
"Thank you." The man sat with the grace of one who'd long ago learned how to manipulate his body. "My name is James. It's a pleasure to meet you."
He held out a hand to shake. Clay accepted it, surprised in a good way at the lean firmness and the calloused fingertips. "You play an instrument, don't you?" he asked as they sat back. "Guitar?"
"I dabble a little," James admitted. He let his hands fall loosely onto the arms of the chair, and fidgeted. "I don't find it surprising that you were startled to see me here. I am old enough to be your father, after all."
"Oh, no, no," Clay hastened.
James waved him off. "I can tell a lie from the truth, no matter how well-intentioned." He smiled wearily. "It was your eyes, you see. I saw your photograph and knew I had to meet the man with so much good humor that it spilled over into a stock picture. I find myself…" He picked at the chair arm. "In need of a laugh or two."
Clay examined James again, more carefully this time. He had the air of a man who'd been through some serious valleys, and recently, too. The look was one he recognized. A switch flipped in his brain and he leaned forward. "Your lover left you, didn't he?"
James' head came up. "How did you -- oh, I suppose it's written all over my face, isn't it?" He sighed.
"Yes, you're right. My partner of twenty years has moved out. The place is so empty that I don't know what to do with myself."
"What happened?"
"What didn’t?" James sighed. "A partnership is much like a marriage. Exactly like, in a number of ways. It fell apart the way things usually do. Small spats turn into week-long arguments, nothing you do is good enough, you're taking too many risks, you're too careful, and before you know it the final straw has snapped and you're on your own."
Clay made a sympathetic noise. "Rough, my friend. So what was that last straw?"
James looked embarrassed. "I bought a motorcycle. My lover, Stuart, wouldn't hear of me riding it, especially at my age. He thought it was far too dangerous."
"Those choppers are pretty hard to handle." Clay thought, for a moment, of Seth on his own bike. He didn't know how Seth managed to rope and ride that beast of his, but he did it with such ease that it seemed like second nature. All the same, he worried about the man every time he peeled out of the driveway. Cycles were damned dangerous, and no mistake about it.
Realizing that James was speaking, Clay dragged his attention back to the present moment. "He said this was the end." James dragged a hand through his hair, shot through with silver. “Said that I was trying to recapture my youth, and if I wasn't contented by growing old with him, I'd better go find someone more my mental age to spend time with. Then he packed up, and he was gone."
Clay felt a twinge of sympathy. "But you miss him, don't you?" he asked. "Like there's a hole in your chest where he ought to fit."
"How did you know?" James gave Clay a puzzled look. "Aren't you too young to have gone through this?"
"What's age matter? I know a few things about having a heart broken." Clay reached out impulsively and took James' hand again. "What did you do about the bike?"
James half-laughed. "I sold it as soon as I could find a buyer."
"Did you tell Stuart?"
"I tried, but he's been blocking my calls."
"Harsh. Have you tried going to see him in person?"
"Time after time." James looked despondent. "Listen to me, going on and on about the man I love when I'm supposed to be getting to know you."
Clay grinned. "James, you didn't come here for a date. You didn't pick me out because I was cute. You wanted a listening ear. You've got it, and you've also got a quick fix." He pulled out his cell phone. Finger on the CALL button, he paused to ask -- "You're sure you want him back?"
"More than anything. It isn't that you're not a charming young man, but you are right," James admitted. "Coming here was a crazy idea, but what else could I do? I felt that if there was no way to get Stuart back, I had to get over him."
"Nope. No way." Clay punched the button. "You lucked out today, friend. Give me his number." He punched in the digits as James rattled them off. Putting a finger to his lips, he summoned up his best DJ voice.
"Hello?" a voice answered. Older, tired and sad. "Stuart here."
"And there's our lucky winner!" Clay exclaimed, making a few whistling noises.
"What? Who is this?"
"Welcome to WKZL, Stuart. This is Clay, filling in for the regular DJ. Today we're playing a little game with the White Pages. I've been going through at random and handing out deluxe dinners for two at the best restaurant in town, the Swordfish Plaza. You're the first one to answer his phone, so you're our lucky winner!"
"Oh!" Stuart sounded a little better now. Pleased. "That's wonderful news. But…" he trailed off. "For two? I don't -- I mean -- it's only me."
"A guy like you doesn't have anyone he can call to spend a night eating the best seafood this town has to offer? Oh, come on, now," Clay teased. "What about old friends? Anyone you have unfinished business with?"
Stuart was silent for a long minute. "I have a friend," he admitted in a low voice. "We parted… not on the best of terms."
"Well, here's your chance to bridge the gap. Give him a call. Who knows? Maybe you can do some quality bonding over a plate of grilled red snapper. And let me tell you, they do it right over there." Clay made a kissing noise. "Spices like you wouldn't believe."
"Maybe," Stuart said. "I have to think about it."
"You do that, sir. Congratulations on winning your prize, and you have a good evening tonight. Just tell the hostess that Clay sent you, and she'll get you taken care of."
"Thank you." Stuart's voice was shaking.
"It's no trouble at all." Clay gave a chuckle. "Thanks for listening to WKZL, my man. You have a good day now!"
He disconnected. James was staring at him in amazement. "What… what on God's green earth did you just do?"
Clay grinned. "Got you two on the path back together, is what I did."
"But -- how?"
"Look." Clay took James' hands again. "There's a whole world of possibilities. Stuart might give you a call, or he might not. If he does, great! Go there and let him know how much you miss him, and how desperately you want a second chance. Twenty years is a long time to just up and end it all. You need one more shot to work things out."
"And if he doesn't call?"
"You're still covered. Go to the restaurant yourself, tonight. Ten'll get you twenty that Stuart shows up alone. Do you know of anyone else he might invite?"
James slowly shook his head. "No. Stuart and I had plenty of acquaintances, but they were all couples, like ourselves. There isn't anyone single he might invite, unless he's met someone…"
"Never happen. Not the way he sounded. That was the voice of a man who's still way down deep in the dumps over what's happened between you two. If you have to go by yourself, you'll see him sitting alone at a table. You go over and join him. No way he'll make a scene in a place like the Swordfish. The two of you get a chance to talk, and you tell him everything you've told me. You want another chance. He could say yes, he could say no, but at least you'll know. Isn't that better than what you came in here for?"
James broke into a grin. He gripped Clay's hands back, shaking them. "Thank you, young man. Thank you. And hold on… you really are a DJ, aren't you? I think I've heard you before."
"WKZL," Clay said with an answering smile. "We have boatloads of free passes to restaurants. Just swing by the office this afternoon and say Clay sent you. Get to the Swordfish early and slip the hostess those comps. Everything's going to be taken care of."
James looked moved. "You are a remarkable man, Clay. I knew, when I saw your eyes…" He had to stop to clear his throat. "I can't thank you enough."
"I don't need thanks. Now get out of here, would you?" Clay let go of the strong older hands. "Go pick out what you're going to wear tonight."
James' eyes sparkled. "Stuart's favorite suit. I have one he always loved to see on me."
"Well, there you go! Now scoot. Go get that man, tiger."
James stood, flashing a brilliant smile back at Clay. "Remarkable," he murmured, and then, "Thank you. From the bottom of my heart."
Clay raised a hand in the air and pumped it. "You go, friend."
When the door closed behind him, Clay leaned back in the chair, taking a deep breath. That had felt cleansing, somehow. Maybe he couldn't fix his problems with Seth, but he could still help someone else.
"You really are the last of the romantics," Jeri's voice piped through the intercom.
Clay laughed, not really surprised at the interruption. "You sneak. You were listening to the whole thing, weren't you?"
"Only a little…"
"Oh, give it up."
"All right, I heard the whole thing. I've never seen a man more hangdog than this poor James character, and the look on his face when he saw your picture? I had to get an earful. Don't be mad?"
"Not mad, Jeri, don't worry." Clay petted the intercom box as fondly as if it were her shoulder. "Talk about a love story, huh?"
"Oh, yeah," Jeri breathed happily. "Do you think they'll get back together?"
Clay thought about the sadness in Stuart's voice and the matching sorrow on James' face
. "I think maybe so, yeah," he mused. "If nothing else, they'll find some kind of closure."
"James was right, you know," Jeri said. "You are a good man."
"Oh, bah." Clay waved that aside. "I'm just someone who helps out every now and then. So, you got another one for me? Is he ready?"
"Primed like a gun."
"This isn't one of those scary guys like Michael, is it?" Clay stiffened. "I don't think I can handle another punk."
"Definitely not a punk, sugar. In fact, if I thought he went in for my type, I'd have claimed him for myself." Jeri made an mmm-mmm noise. "This one is fine as wine, darling. Cute as a button and dressed so sharp I could cut myself. Do you want me to give him the go-ahead?"