Whistling in the Dark

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Whistling in the Dark Page 15

by Tamara Allen


  "Nothing to tell," Jack said. "And you're shaking a finger at the wrong guy. He's as wicked as I am. Honest to God, Harry."

  "Uh huh." Harry fished a cigar out of his pocket and tapped it on the tablecloth. "What the hell are they playing? I like a peppy little rag as much as the next fellow, but this--"

  "It's jazz. Grows on you like mad if you give it a chance." Jack got up. "I'll be right back."

  "Jack--"

  "I'm just going to rescue him before that blond piranha devours him."

  "As if he's any safer with you."

  Jack wandered along the edge of the dance floor until he was within five feet of the band. There he found Sutton. It wasn't Gert nor any other predatory female who had her hooks in him. Jack circled him with a critical eye and concluded he may have just made a convert. "Like it?"

  Sutton blinked as if he were waking from a dream. "What did you say?"

  Jack laughed. "You want some supper, don't you?"

  "Oh. Yes, when they've finished, all right?"

  "They'll be playing for hours yet. Come and eat."

  Sutton was quiet through supper and Jack let him alone so he could listen. Gert hadn't come back and God knew where Esther and Ox had gone. A buxom woman in a beaded satin gown joined the band to sing a ballad and couples on the dance floor huddled like lovebirds to the sleepy sway of the music. Jack scooted his chair closer to Sutton's. "Want to sit in with the band?"

  Sutton laughed. "I wouldn't have a hope of keeping up."

  "You'd play like an angel."

  "Angelic is one thing this music ain't," Harry said around a mouthful.

  "It's got something of Heaven in it," Sutton said. "I don't think even angels could sit still."

  "If they can't, why should we?" Jack tugged at his elbow. "Feeling brave?"

  Harry groaned. "Jack, can we get through supper before you get us tossed out?"

  "They won't toss us out. Theo and I got away with it. Everyone thought we were part of the show," he explained to Sutton with a laugh.

  Ox and Esther returned with Gert in tow. As they sat, flushed and cheerful, to eat their suppers, Jack felt a little wistful. He leaned over and whispered in Sutton's ear. "When the band starts up, what do you say?"

  "Harry will never forgive us." Sutton didn't seem particularly perturbed by the thought. Still, he said, "Perhaps you should ask Gert."

  Jack found his hand under the table and clasped it, interlacing fingers. "I don't want to dance with Gert," he whispered.

  If Sutton had been learning not to trust him, growing affection was wearing down that wisdom. At his nod, Jack sprang out of the chair. "Harry, if we get tossed out, meet us at Childs. I'll buy you pie and coffee."

  Harry grumbled something that was lost in the thunder of a trumpet and Jack sallied away, with Sutton in his wake.

  - Twenty -

  Dancing with Theo had been a prank. With Sutton, it was something more. They flew light as air on a jubilant rhythm, leaving the ordinary world a small, distant place behind them. If the world looked on in disapproval, Jack couldn't guess and didn't care. Sutton stayed steadfast and Jack could do no less, until a firm hand on his shoulder wrenched him back down to earth. The manager, Jack assumed as he turned to take in a salt and pepper moustache and, under it, a smile as neatly arranged. Jack savored a passing desire to stomp on the man's foot, just to see if the smile would waver. "Something wrong?" he asked.

  The manager leaned in. "A word with you in private, sir?"

  Jack knew what that word would be. "We were just on our way back to our table--unless you're throwing us out."

  "Not at all," the manager said smoothly. "Enjoy your evening."

  "We can't dance?"

  It was a gloriously foolish question and asked as if Sutton believed there might come an answer that made sense. Jack looked at him in admiration, wishing he'd asked it, himself.

  The manager's smile gave a fraction. "There are any number of young ladies, sir--"

  "Suppose a fellow preferred to dance with the boys?" Sutton threw the faintest smile Jack's way. Couples around them had stopped dancing, to soak in the disturbance with keen interest. Jack heard their comments, some joking, some serious--most disparaging. In another minute, the band would quit playing and the manager's effort to deal efficiently with the matter would be for naught. If Sutton was as aware of it, something in him seemed determined to hang on. "What's the harm?"

  The music fell into a plaintive cacophony and, along with the chatter, trickled away. A flush rose in the manager's cheeks. "We understand the need for celebration at a time like this," he said, his low voice carrying well in the quiet, "but we are obliged to maintain certain standards." He raised a hand to summon assistance. "If you'll come with me, this issue may be better resolved downstairs."

  "Standards?" Sutton's weary laugh was so soft, Jack felt sure no one heard it but him. "We were only dancing."

  "Not much of a reason to kick a fellow out," Jack said. "Now this--" He grabbed Sutton and kissed him, to a chorus of gasps, whistles, and raucous laughter. A grip like iron forced him away from Sutton and forward through the crowd, which scrambled to clear a path for them and the gentlemen escorting them from the floor--literally, Jack mused, as the goliath at his back hoisted him nearly off his feet.

  Sutton, in the same predicament, clutched at Jack's coat sleeve. "Couldn't wait until we were home, could you."

  Jack wasn't drunk--but so ridiculously pleased, he thought he might as well have been. He started in lustily on the first song that came to mind, an innocent melody that belonged to a lost world. "Kiss me, my honey, kiss me and say you'll miss me as I'll miss you. Love me, my honey, love me, like stars above me, say you'll be true, while away every day I'll be thinking of you--"

  Laughter and applause submerged his voice and Sutton rescued him, harmonizing with at least a few of Jack's off-key notes. Once escorted to the street, they ran through the cold to the crowded cafeteria down from Reisenweber's.

  "God, I'm freezing." Jack dropped into a chair beside Sutton and pressed his face in the smooth wool of Sutton's lapel.

  "Jack." Exasperation and affection, stirred in just the right amounts. "Why did you do that?"

  "The kiss?" Jack considered as he wriggled a little closer. "That was your fault, for being so brave and reasonable with unreasonable people."

  Sutton laughed. "And the singing?"

  "I suppose I wanted to leave them thinking we aren't such bad fellows."

  "I don't think we are," Sutton said softly and put an arm around him. "Even Harry may forgive us."

  "If he starts throwing plates, can I hide behind you?"

  "Better do it quick."

  Esther and Ox arm in arm behind him, Harry came in and sat down across from Jack with a glare that wasn't nearly as ferocious as Jack had anticipated. But after a cup of coffee, he'd warmed up enough to indulge in a little reproach. "You could've ruined their evening, you know."

  Jack followed his nod to the other end of the table, where Esther and Ox sat, sharing cake and cocoa. "They don't look like they're suffering."

  Harry rolled his eyes. "My evening, then."

  Jack pushed the last piece of blueberry pie toward him and Harry accepted it as penance. He was laughing to himself as he broke the crust with his fork. "Gertie. Says she can't believe you led her along all this time."

  "Heartless of me. Where is she, anyway?"

  "Still playing eenie meenie minee moe." Harry yawned. "I'm heading home. I take it you're not?"

  Jack shrugged. "Maybe we'll go 'round to some place less respectable." He winked at Sutton, who went red and avoided Harry's gaze.

  Harry shook his head. "Watch out for this boy, Sutton, or you'll never sleep again." He clapped Ox on the shoulder. "You want to whistle down a cab? You and Es can come with me. Be cheaper."

  Jack suspected once the cab left Harry off, Ox would walk Esther home just to spend more time with her. Sutton yawned and Jack poked him in the ribs. "You're not d
rooping too, are you?" Maybe it was time to head home, after all, or Sutton would be asleep on his shoulder in the cab. That had its appeal, but Jack's thoughts had been returning all evening to something a little more intimate.

  Sutton tried to hide another yawn. "We're going some place less respectable now?"

  "Heaps less," Jack said with a laugh. He hailed a cab and climbed in after Sutton. The cold night air agreeably revived him and seemed to have the same effect on Sutton, for no sooner had the cab started than he fished pencil and paper out of a pocket. In the intermittent flare and fade of street lamps, Jack saw the musical staff crowded with notes. "The tune at the restaurant?"

  "I want to remember it."

  Jack burrowed against his shoulder. "Let it go for tonight. If you forget, I'll hum it in the morning." Numbers at the bottom of the paper caught his eye and he sat up. "You and Harry conspiring now?"

  "Harry's just concerned," Sutton said quietly. "So am I."

  "I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me--"

  "For God's sake, Jack. I've had nightmares, too. I don't know any one of us who hasn't."

  "Yeah? While you're awake?"

  "Are you? You don't remember any of it?"

  "Sometimes. Sometimes not." The conversation was taking a turn he hadn't planned on or wanted. "It does keep me awake. It may end up keeping you awake, too."

  "I'll sleep well enough. I did, despite your snoring." Arms came around him and lips brushed comfortingly against the nape of his neck.

  "Snoring?" Jack muttered, a little less glumly.

  "Made me think of home," Sutton whispered. "Cows lowing and all that."

  Jack confiscated the paper and pencil and, risking expulsion once again, pushed Sutton into the corner of the seat and covered his mouth with a bruising, eloquent kiss. Breaking from it was torture, but Jack did, long enough to clarify things, if the kiss hadn't done the trick. "Piano tomorrow."

  Not even lack of breath could lessen the emphasis. Sutton stared at him with smoky gray eyes and echoed, with barely breath enough of his own, "Tomorrow."

  Jack pocketed the paper and as soon as they'd lit from the cab, caught hold of Sutton's hand and flew for the door. They ran up the stairs, overtaking each other every few steps until they stumbled over the landing and Jack jammed his key into the lock. The apartment was icebox-cold, but it was only a passing sensation noted in comparison to the heat of Sutton's mouth on his--hardly before the door closed--and Sutton's hands working under his coat to separate buttons from their buttonholes.

  Making their way in the direction of the bedrooms, they left a trail of coats and shoes until Sutton's exasperated groan brought Jack up short. "Ah, hell, you didn't," he whispered as he reached up to tug at the knot in the tie. "Never mind. Come on." Jack led him into the bedroom and over to the bed. He rummaged through a drawer and produced a pair of scissors.

  As Jack snipped the tie, Sutton looked guilty. "I'll have to buy Harry a new one."

  "Tomorrow." Jazz, dress ties, and radiators could wait for Monday. Maybe even Tuesday. The affection in Sutton's gaze shone for no one else but him. The frank desire in the hands that pushed the shirt off his shoulders and the mouth that fell on his with so much need made him want to lay his heart open wide without even thinking twice. Those kisses--he knew, as he and Sutton blindly tumbled to the blanket, that he could live on those kisses for a good long time. Monday was just a gleam in the distance, on the other side of the best dream he'd had in forever.

  The radiator, anyway, could definitely wait.

  - Twenty-One -

  Sutton woke to an unfamiliar slant of sunlight on the shades and realized the noon hour had come and gone. Dismay gave way to a sense of decadence and he wanted to blame the music, that intoxicating music as transformed from the music he knew as the world itself. He liked the rhythms broken free of old restraints, the accents that dared go where they weren't supposed to. He wanted to play the music that lived--and live it as Jack did, with a confidence as inexhaustible as his energy.

  Perhaps not quite inexhaustible, Sutton amended, when he looked upon the rare sight of Jack quiet and still, a tranquility in his sprawl as if he'd achieved a tentative truce with sleep. Dear Jack, as flirtatious as he could be with the world, he was altogether serious and attentive at his most intimate. Reluctant to wake him from a comfortable sleep, Sutton might have drifted off again himself--if not for the racket coming from the street. A shower of what sounded like pebbles rattled the window, followed by strenuous, off-key singing.

  "What the hell's that?" Jack, awake with eyes shut, moved closer and wrapped Sutton in delicious warmth. The singing grew louder and Sutton recognized the song the same instant Jack did. Jack scrambled out of bed, and Sutton, grabbing dressing gowns, joined him at the window. In the street waited Theo, Lewis, Amelia, and Miles in overcoats with mourning bands, orchids wreathed absurdly over their somber hats. Jack leaned out bare-shouldered into the wind. "Would you guys shut up before you wake all of Manhattan?"

  The four of them burst into applause and any further rebuke from Jack was lost in a pleased grin. "That got around quick."

  "As noble acts among the brethren will." Theo bowed in approval.

  "We heard you were ably assisted," Miles said, with a warm look at Sutton.

  "And now we come to find two tousled heads at the same window," Lewis said, with a certain acidity that made Sutton's cheeks burn. He slipped down to sit on the floor and looked at Jack in mortification.

  Jack reached over and mussed his already disheveled hair. "Don't worry about it," he said for Sutton's ears alone. "He's jealous, that's all."

  "Has he gone red as a beet?" Theo called up fondly.

  "Not at all," Jack said, giving Sutton a wink. "I've cured him of it."

  "Jack, be nimble, Jack, be quick," Lewis said, smile stretched thin.

  "It's my winning personality," Jack shot back cheerfully. "And my unbelievably good looks."

  "That's what I said," Theo exclaimed, and Amelia giggled.

  "That may capture them," Lewis said. "But what keeps them?"

  "You're keeping us," Miles said, exasperated. "Jack, get dressed. We've got the wake today, remember?"

  "Oh, hell. Of course. No, I forgot."

  "Well, dress each other quick and come along," Theo said. "We're going to grab some coffee and meet Bill at the 'mat."

  "A wake at an automat?" Sutton asked.

  "It's not what you think." Jack leaned back out. "Come up. You won't be much warmer inside, though. Radiator's dead."

  "We'll keep each other warm," Theo said, waving a bottle of something. "Just hurry."

  Jack ducked inside and shut the window. "Damn, it's cold." He burrowed goosefleshed arms under Sutton's robe and Sutton winced. "Sorry," Jack whispered, kissing his neck. "And sorry about them, too. Don't worry about it, all right? They're harmless."

  "I like your friends. They do take a little getting used to."

  "You're a good sport. Come with us? It'll be fun." He pulled Sutton with him as he stood. "Bill's getting married."

  "And a wake is called for?"

  "Theo and I are grieving the loss," Jack said with a laugh. "Lewis thinks he's a gold-digger. The girl's got money."

  Dressed, they ran down to find a shivering group huddled in the stairwell. Theo passed the nearly empty bottle to Jack.

  "Starting a little early, aren't we?" Jack asked.

  "In eighty-two days, this manna from heaven will be snatched away from us for all time," Theo said solemnly. "I intend to get gloriously drunk every day we've got left."

  Jack took a long drink. "Restricting your lawbreaking to sex?"

  "A fellow can only give up so much," Theo said and put a welcoming arm over Sutton's shoulders. "I'm so glad you're coming along. We might need a little piano and I'm not familiar with the hymns."

  "He's probably played in church," Jack said, meeting Sutton's eye with a knowing smile.

  "I have," Sutton said, not quite sure why he felt unco
mfortable acknowledging it.

  "We all live two lives," Miles said. "Well, most of us." His smile at Theo was fully affectionate.

  "After your dad's chased you off with a shotgun, pretense is pointless thereafter." Theo grinned toothily. "To hell with them. Let's go find our boy of the hour."

  They walked to the automat and there warmed up on coffee until a sleek black Cadillac drew to the curb and idled, gleaming, in the sun. "There he is," Theo said and tore out of his seat.

  "Are you serious?" Jack caught Sutton's sleeve, pulling him along as they followed Theo outside. A tall fellow with curly red hair and a bashful smile got out of the car and greeted Theo with a particularly affectionate hug. Jack nudged Miles. "Maybe we should rethink this marriage idea."

  His comment elicited exasperation from Bill. "It's not my car. It's her father's and he's only lent it, so we've got to be careful with it or he'll have my head."

  "Always a price to pay," Miles murmured, and Jack laughed. Sutton was glad to see him give Bill nothing more than a warm handshake before hopping onto the running board to inspect the interior.

  As Miles and Lewis joined him, Bill looked on anxiously. "I've got to be back to the house in time for supper, all right?"

  "Oh that's quite impossible," Theo said. "We'll hardly be started by then."

  "Maybe you'll have a flat tire along the way," Jack said, grinning. He grazed fingertips over the hood. "Think I could have a quick look?"

  "Jack, for heaven's sake, it's just a boring old engine." Theo opened the passenger door. "Bill, you must take us around the neighborhood so everyone who dislikes us can writhe in an agony of envy. That's quite a lot of ground to cover, so let's get going."

  "Let me drive it, will you?" Jack asked, with a look Sutton would have found difficult to resist. "I'll be so careful, Bill, I swear it."

  "You can drive?" Bill asked.

  "Sure I can. Can't I, boys?"

  While the others chimed in with hasty support, Sutton couldn't contain a laugh. "If you drive anything like you ride a bicycle--" The rest died on his lips as Jack winced. It occurred to him Jack didn't often have the opportunity to drive a motorcar. "You should be good at it, I imagine."

 

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