by Willa Okati
Only Jimmy could have gotten away with it. The ladies had whooped with laughter, and the bolder of the pair had shouted, “Hey, mister, throw me a little something!”
Nicholas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His great-grandmother would have said he was thinking too much of the dead and that it would be bad luck. He wanted to wish Jimmy nothing but peace now that the pain had passed.
God, the days when Jimmy was sick had been hard. The cancer had hit Jimmy out of the blue, one day healthy and within a week, on a respirator. Nothing we can do, the doctors said, one by one turning up their hands in a helpless gesture. Too large…inoperable…pressing on the brain stem.
Inside of one month, Jimmy had gone from being a vital, vivid personality to a shell it had been a mercy to let go. Nicholas had stuck by Grey almost every second that the man spent by his lover’s bed, letting the café be run by waitstaff and not caring if it went under.
The rest of the time, Nicholas had been at Café Noctem, doing his best even though Grey had never known about it.
It’d been odd, he’d thought as he’d worked. Ever since college, the three of them—the gay men who signed up for an art class that was otherwise all women—had been inseparable. Nicholas hadn’t minded when Grey and Jimmy had partnered off, since they’d continued to spend most of their time together. It’d seemed strange not to have that grinning face around, up to his old pranks.
Stranger still, after he’d passed, to realize what a gap the man left in his wake. A hole Nicholas felt like he was forever trying to fill.
Even though he and Grey were a couple now, he couldn’t shake the sensation that he was merely standing in shoes made far too large to fit, as if, should Jimmy appear one day out of the blue, Grey would leave him behind in a heartbeat to follow his one true love. His great-grandmother would have told him he was dwelling too much—actually, she’d have smacked him with a wooden cooking spoon and told him to get over himself—but the niggling uncertainty coiled in his heart like a snake, and he didn’t know how to get rid of his doubts.
Not really. Did he?
Nicholas dared one look behind himself to find the backseat empty as Grey pulled around to the side of Café Noctem, into one of the employee parking spaces. He didn’t have one reserved especially for himself, figuring that they should be open to anyone who worked there. If he found a car that didn’t belong, though…look out.
Grey turned to Nicholas with a smile. If he’d been thinking his own thoughts during the ride home, his face and eyes both hid any traces of them. “Let’s get inside,” he said with a friendly nudge to Nicholas’ shoulder. “The cellar awaits us.”
Nicholas nodded, undoing his seatbelt. “You start the coffees brewing. I’ll see to putting up the decorations.”
“We can’t share and share alike?”
A reluctant grin tugged at Nicholas’ mouth. “That’ll cut our time in half.”
“So? I want you by my side.” Grey’s hand slid from Nicholas’ shoulder down to his thigh. He let it rest there, warm even through his leather glove. “You’re my better half, after all. This is our first Celebration together. We should have an equal share in all things.”
Nicholas’ smile brightened. “We’ll have to hurry, then.”
“Worry, worry.” Grey brushed Nicholas’ doubts aside with a gesture. “We have a couple of hours. How long does it take to hang a few garlands?”
“Longer than you’d think,” Nicholas warned.
“We can still do it. Watch us and see.”
The two men got out of Grey’s car, Nicholas having to hurry again to keep up as Grey headed for the staff entrance on the lower level and sorted through his ring of keys for the right one. They’d had an old-fashioned lock on this door until not long ago, and a long, iron key, but Grey had finally given in to the times and installed a deadbolt. Right about the time he’d given in to the expensive German-steel espresso makers and brewing urns.
They’d kept the same old door, though. Good, solid wood set into the red-painted brick of the walls. Nicholas followed Grey through into the cellar of Café Noctem, stopped in the middle, and put his hands on his hips to survey what he’d already done.
Students in particular liked the cellar of the place. Mostly underground, with only a few tiny windows near the ceiling to let in the day, it was a quiet place where they could tap away on their laptops or spread out textbooks, highlighters and spiral-bound notebooks.
Nicholas liked it for the memory of the time Grey had taken him on the floor. Pounced him from behind just as he was about to start bussing the tables—the signs said to clear up after yourself, but did anyone ever listen?—yes, pounced Nicholas and brought him down to earth, the two of them laughing and rolling around until Grey had ended up on top, his dark eyes hungry.
And then they had kissed…
And then, the cold floor be damned, they had done so much more…
Nicholas glanced down to realize he was standing in the exact same spot where they had lain together, panting in the afterglow of a truly stupendous orgasm. Where Grey had stroked the damp strands of Nicholas’ over-long bangs out of his forehead and eyes, and kissed the skin beneath.
Where he had said, “You’re all I have now, Nicholas. You and the café. Don’t ever leave me. Promise?”
Nicholas had given his word. He’d never had cause to regret it. He loved Grey with his whole heart, no matter how the situation had come upon them both all unaware. Memories of the time they’d made love down here only reinforced his pleasure in the bond they shared.
He was about to point it out to Grey when he realized his lover had taken off his gloves, stuffed them in his coat pockets and taken off the garment. Nicholas followed suit. Then, Grey went on to the stack of boxes sitting by the near wall. He opened one and muttered to himself in dismay.
Nicholas laughed. “I told you it would take a while.”
Grey turned to him with a sheepish look. “Well, I still can’t start the coffees now. They’ll scorch. And God knows, burned coffee is not love. I can at least give you a hand.”
You already gave me your heart, didn’t you? “I’d appreciate the help,” Nicholas said softly. “All right, look in the second box. That one’s got the coffee-cup garlands I made a few years ago.”
“Oh, I remember those.” Grey made a dive for the cardboard and all but tore it open, pulling out the cups strung on and glued to strings of Christmas lights. “These were a great idea. Did I ever tell you that?”
“A few times.” Nicholas came over to his partner’s side to check out the decorations, standing a little closer than was strictly necessary. “Did they get hopelessly tangled up?”
“You know Christmas lights.” Grey looked rueful. “Shouldn’t be too hard to untangle them, though. You take one end, and I’ll take the other.”
They worked in silence for a few minutes, Grey making small noises of pleasure as he unsnarled one loop and then another, Nicholas flashing him little grins every time he had a success. Like the cartoon dogs with their spaghetti, they worked their way closer and closer, until their hands touched over the last cup.
Nicholas couldn’t help himself. He raised up on his toes, wrapped one arm around Grey’s neck, and kissed his lover. Not sweetly, but hungrily, demanding that his mouth open and that he let Nicholas inside. A fire burned in his belly, brought on by seeing Grey so deeply immersed in his work, and his cock had begun to swell inside his jeans. He rubbed against Grey, letting him feel the evidence of his desire.
Grey gave a small groan, carefully putting the cup decorations aside before grasping Nicholas’ ass, kneading the twin globes. “You have the most perfect…” he said between kisses, his own passion seeming to grow. “And your… Not to mention your…”
“Hush,” Nicholas whispered, touching his tongue to Grey’s. He traced it along Grey’s lips, imagining that he could taste the remnants of a sugary latte the man had drunk earlier, before going to the cemetery. “If we have time to decorate,
and time to make the coffees, do we have time for me to go down on my knees in front of you?”
Grey looked stunned. “You—you would—right here?”
“Location didn’t stop us once upon a time.” Nicholas cast a glance at the floor, then back up at Grey, delighted to see the faint blush on his cheeks. “Think about it,” he crooned. “Me down below you, this magnificent cock in my mouth…an early start to the Celebration.”
Grey ran a hand over Nicholas’ hair, the heat from his fingers tingling against Nicholas’ scalp. “You would do this for me?” he asked softly. “Is the Celebration the only occasion?”
Nicholas frowned at Grey, puzzled. “What else would I—oh.” A lead weight sank in his heart. He understood. “You think I’m trying to do what Jimmy would, don’t you?”
Grey blinked. “What? I—no. Of course not, Nicholas.”
“Of course not.” Nicholas drew back, folding his arms over his chest to protect himself. “You would never think of such a thing.” The words were hurtful, he knew, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “All day long I’ve been competing with the spirit of a dead man, and you never even thought to realize what you were doing.”
“Nicholas, it isn’t like that, I swear.”
“No? Maybe not consciously.” Nicholas picked up the strand of coffee-cup garlands. “Go upstairs, Grey,” he said quietly. “I’d like to finish this myself, if you don’t mind. I can work quickly alone, and you need to get the whole café, not just the coffees, in order.”
“Upstairs has already been decorated,” Grey replied—but he didn’t reach for Nicholas. A frown creased his forehead. “I want to help. Let me.”
“Because Jimmy would have wanted you to?” Nicholas pressed a hand to his forehead. “Grey, I’m sorry. There must be a bad spirit in me to make me say these things.”
Grey’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Do you think they’re true?”
Nicholas shook his head in thought. “Answer me this, and I’ll know—what would you do if Jimmy were here now, instead of me?” One glance at Grey’s face, expression startled but eyes alight with a sudden shine, was all the answer he needed. “You do it all yourself,” he said in a rush, shoving the garland into Grey’s hands. “I’ve got a costume to put on. It’s intricate and it’ll take time to get myself into. I’ll clean the upstairs on my way, and then I’ll be up in the studio apartment, getting ready.”
He hesitated, then leaned forward to kiss Grey one more time. “I’m not angry,” he whispered. “But time apart cools anger in the heart. Forgive me, Grey. It’s just been one of those days.” He traced one finger down Grey’s solid chest. “It’s hard to compete with a man who was always better and will always be the best, and I’m not up to the challenge right now.”
“Nicholas,” Grey replied just as quietly, putting the decorations aside to comb both his hands through Nicholas’ wavy hair. “I’m with you now, do you understand? I made my choice. You’re not in competition with anyone.”
“Then why does it feel like I am?” Nicholas bit back further angry words. “We need to be apart for a few minutes, Grey. Let me go and work the poison out my way, and you take care of these things.” He reached up to kiss Grey one last time, as if he could put his mark on the man. “Let me go in peace, Grey.”
“Grey.” The man came back, catching and grasping Nicholas’ fingers. “Not love? Not lover? Just Grey?”
“Please,” Nicholas whispered, eyes downcast. “There are emotions swirling around in here like the fog outside. And time is passing by, minute by minute, with nothing done. Let me go. We’ll get this place ready more quickly apart than together. If I stay, we’ll be dancing in this circle until the revelers are approaching.” He pressed back against Grey’s hand. “Please.”
Grey let him go, seeming reluctant. “We’ll talk about this later,” he replied, voice flat. “I think there are more than a few things we need to discuss.”
Nicholas nodded, meeting Grey’s gaze straight on. “We do.” He let out a sigh. “But now isn’t the time. We have the Celebration. Go on, then. Get things ready. I’ll take care of my end. Keeping the Café a roaring success is part of my end of our bargain.” He smiled a little tentatively. “Things aren’t bad…love. We just need a moment or two for me to compose myself.”
After a pause, Grey inclined his head to signify agreement, and Nicholas exhaled in relief. He’d tidy up the main café, set out the coffees all ready to be ground and brewed, and put on his costume. Hopefully the work would exorcise the bad spirits coiling inside his heart. Jealousy, anger, bitterness…all of those needed to be purged.
He needed to be a better man, for Grey’s sake.
“No blow job?” Grey asked with a half-smile. “I would have loved that, you know.”
Nicholas, already heading for the spiral staircase that would lead him upstairs, paused to look back. “I would have, too. But we need to work now. I’ll be in the apartment when you need me.”
With those parting words, Nicholas left his partner behind, his mind troubled and his heart a mass of confused love and anger. If he couldn’t replace Jimmy, perhaps he could become the dead man’s equal in Grey’s affections. He would work at this. He would. And he’d succeed. He would.
Grey belonged to him now, and he wouldn’t share the man’s affections with a ghost. Even if he’d loved that ghost like a brother when Jimmy had still been alive.
Time to get to work.
* * *
Grey watched Nicholas go, admiring as ever the way his perfectly shaped ass flexed in the jeans he wore, always just a little too tight. He’d good-naturedly complain about needing to buy some new ones, but never seemed to get around to it. Grey half-suspected he liked knowing he was being watched and appreciated.
And yes, he was definitely that. Grey sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t been looking for love, or a new partner, after Jimmy had gone so suddenly, but things had just happened. Nicholas hadn’t filled the void, but he’d made a space for himself and they’d been happy together.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have taken Nicholas along to the cemetery.
Exhaling a noisy gust of air, Grey turned back to the decorations. He checked, and the nails were still in place from where things had been hung for years upon years of Celebrations. Tall enough to reach, he began twining the garland around the room. It’d been clever as hell of Nicholas to cut these cups in half and install a small light bulb in each one. His lover had the magic touch, all right—and when he plugged the string in and all the lights came on, not a single one blown out, he grinned wide in approval. Oh, yes, the magic touch!
He’d never seen Nicholas get so upset before, but he felt as if the man would get over his mood pretty soon. He’d always been laid back and easygoing, even when they were in school together. When plans had been laid for the Café’s renovation from a hardware store to a coffee house, Nicholas had been in the thick of things, helping to move old boxes and shift ancient paint cans, laughing all the while.
Grey adored his partner’s laugh. The sound always made him think of rich gold, burnished and polished up to a shine, just like the man’s voice. Nicholas made little of himself, saying he was short and not anywhere near as handsome as Grey himself or…Jimmy…but he didn’t know his own looks very well. Nicholas was a man anyone would be proud to show themselves with.
All he had to do, it seemed, was convince Nicholas of the fact. He hadn’t known this was a problem, but if it was, he’d overcome it, and they’d be happy as they had been before.
Grey continued on with his work, humming to himself again as he went around the room, even murmuring snatches of old legends underneath his breath—“And then Brother Deer spoke with Sister Sky, asking her why his People were not allowed to fly, and she said to him, because you have no wings; he asked her why they had not been granted to him, and she said, because some things must run on four feet, for why else would there be a ground to tread on and why would the Great Spirits
have created a forest that suits you perfectly?”
A sudden knock startled him into nearly dropping a wreath of dusty green leaves. He whirled around to the cellar door, which he realized he’d left open. “Hello!” he said in surprise to the figure standing there, a small, wiry man wearing a deerskin mask that covered his face and his hair. He’d dressed himself in plain black clothes, a turtleneck and soft trousers, and although he was committed to Nicholas, Grey couldn’t help but admire the line and length of the man. “I’m sorry, but we’re not open yet.”
His guest made a gesture, as if to suggest he should leave and come back—but he didn’t speak. Grey frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” he said, wanting to be sure. “It doesn’t matter that you’re early. You might have to wait a while for a cup of coffee, though. I guess the partiers are out earlier than usual tonight, eh?”
The man, whose mouth was visible through his mask, grinned and swept a low bow. Grey laughed despite himself at the old-fashioned gesture. “Come on in, if you want. Take any table that you like. All I have to do is hang this and I’ll be done here.”
Nodding, as if relieved and pleased, the man came inside. His shoes must have been padded or made of something like soft suede, for he made as little noise as a cat when he walked. Pointing to a nearby table, he pulled out the chair and sat down, smiling at Grey. Green eyes twinkled through the holes in his mask.
Grey took a moment to admire the handiwork on the thing. Definitely Native in origin, and old. It should have been a museum piece, but this odd visitor wore the face covering like a second skin. “That’s a fine mask,” he said, tacking the last bit of decoration into place and flipping the wall switch that would turn on the ambient lighting in addition to the coffee-cup trimmings. “Where did you get it?”
The man held a finger to his lips. Grey grinned despite himself. “So you’re like a monk, eh? Taken a vow of silence for the Celebration?”