by Tamara Allen
It was Sutton's business if he wanted to take up with David again. He was free to do as he pleased. Just as he'd said, no one had expectations. There were no social considerations, no promises to keep. It was all just a lot of fun--though Jack couldn't have said he was having any particular fun at the moment.
Sutton was right. It wasn't his sort of party after all.
He had walked a few blocks at a strenuous pace before realizing he'd left his coat behind. Deciding the rest of the evening might be redeemed with a warm bath and a cold gin, he took a cab home, making one stop along the way. The wind was sharper when he stood once again on his own sidewalk, and force of habit drew his eyes to the roof. His aerial hung over the cornice and he knew Mr. Valmeer had tied his wash line to the wires again. The wind would take them both down.
Jack sighed and, tucking the newly purchased gin under his arm, headed for the roof.
- Thirty -
The night was dark, cold, and on the verge of being wet. Dark, cold, wet, wonderful, glorious, beautiful night, one Sutton knew he would never forget. "You're sure you saw him come this way?" They had reached the fountains with still no sign of Jack. "Where on earth is he?"
"He probably got cold and went inside. He'll turn up." David slipped an arm around him from behind and kissed the nape of his neck. Easing away, Sutton put some space between them.
"Careful. You'll wreck your chances," he said lightly.
David closed the space, smiling his old fond smile. "They can't see us over here. Anyway, they're not so old-fashioned in New York."
"Perhaps not. But I think I may be."
"Over Bailey? You aren't serious."
"Why not?"
"A bit rough around the edges, isn't he? Your parents will never approve." The sardonic tone fell close to his ear. "You really must learn to take up affairs for amusement, Sutton. You know he views it as such."
"Did you take up with me for amusement?"
David only smiled and shrugged. "We had a discreet and pleasant affair, nothing to be ashamed of."
"It was more than that to me."
"I know. You're young enough to think affections can be constant and forever. Eventually you'll discover that the occasional passionate affair is the most we can wish for in this world." David smiled gently. "And that's not such a terrible thing."
Sutton shivered. "I don't think I will be sophisticated after all."
"Don't give up hope. War didn't open your eyes, but your dalliance with Jack Bailey may. Sophistication comes whether you want it or not, after enough bitter experience." He lit a cigarette. "It's chilly. We should go in."
"I want to find Jack."
"Not really his sort of evening, I think. No doubt he's on his way home by now." David struck out across the lawn like they'd had nothing more than a chat about the weather and Sutton let him go. The world-weary air about David had once engendered sympathy in him. Now he didn't understand how he'd cared as much for David as he had. That he'd imagined they could spend a lifetime together...
Maybe he was the fool David thought him, still wishing for the same happiness even crocodiles might find. Perhaps, but he missed Jack and he just wanted to go away from the party to some place cozy and warm and share a cup of coffee. Certainly there were things they needed to talk about that Sutton, for one, had avoided. Jack might be sore at him--but would surely understand his reasons.
Sutton circled the farthest reaches of the grounds and returned to the house, more worried than before. Enduring congratulations on the way, he went to the coat closet to find Jack's overcoat still there. The young woman who'd taken the coats told him Jack had left. Assuming Jack had gone home, Sutton went there, only to find the shop and apartment both dark and uninhabited. Jack might have gone out with his friends, but Sutton had only the vaguest idea where. He still had Harry's number, but it was nothing to worry Harry over at such a late hour.
He let the cab go and, head bent against the wind, started back inside. The sound of breaking glass in the street startled him, but when he looked around, there was no one to be seen. He heard a noise above and glanced up. Someone was peering over the edge of the rooftop. An awfully familiar someone with a bottle in his hand.
Sutton ran up the four flights and burst through the door, to find Jack tinkering with a wood and wire contraption fastened to a water pipe. His evening clothes traded for something workaday, a toolbox at his side, he looked Sutton's way and smiled as if everything were right with the world. "You okay?"
Sutton, catching his breath, dropped onto an overturned crate. "You left without me."
"Oh. Well, you were having fun, so--" Jack shrugged. He dug another tool from the box. "It's over already? David didn't invite you to stay?"
"It was on his mind. It wasn't on mine."
Jack nodded as if unconcerned. Sutton didn't like the feeling of distance between them. "About tonight--Jack, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to learn all that about me in such a back-handed manner. It's just been so humiliating to even think about, let alone relate to anyone who--" He broke off, embarrassed, and not sure if Jack was even listening. Perhaps the partially empty gin bottle was an indicator to heed. "I didn't mean to hurt you. We haven't really talked much about our pasts. We've been too busy, I guess."
Jack stopped working long enough to peer at him in the lantern light. "Anyone who what?"
"Pardon?"
"Too humiliating to relate to anyone who what?" Jack said with overly precise enunciation.
"Oh. Well, anyone whose respect I don't want to lose."
"Yeah? I was expelled more times than even Harry could count." He paused. "An affair with your teacher--I'll admit that's impressive. 'Course, my teacher was a million years old and only grabbed me when she'd a yardstick in her hand."
Sutton got up and draped Jack's coat over his shoulders. "You left this behind. And David wasn't my teacher. Just a teacher--and I'm a little worried you find that impressive," he added with a laugh. "Jack, what on earth are you doing?"
"Beefing up the aerial."
"In the middle of the night?"
"Got something to keep me warm."
"If you mean to get drunk even a little bit, I'm not sure a cold dark rooftop's the best place for it."
"I'm not drunk," Jack said. "A little rosy. I'm fine." He returned the tool to the box with care. "Now we just have to get Mr. Valmeer's line off and we're all set."
Sutton looked up at the clothes line that had been tied to the slender pole. "Mr. Valmeer? He's the round little fellow with the bristly beard?"
Jack nodded. "Every time his wife goes to visit her sister upstate, he does his own laundry, then forgets it's up here. And he's always tying the damned line to my aerial."
"Very remiss. Why don't you let me help you?" Sutton said, catching his arm as Jack climbed unsteadily to his feet.
"I've got it," Jack said, pulling away. "I've done it a thousand times." He shrugged off the coat and yanked at Mr. Valmeer's knots. "After I pay Chase, we'll beef up the transmitter, too. We can buy more tubes--maybe a couple of those fifty-watters--and boost the sending range so everyone this side of the Mississippi will hear you and fall in love."
"I'd settle for one," Sutton said quietly.
"Maybe sometime we'll go all the way to the west coast," Jack went on and grinned at him, a grin that faded into a sympathetic grimace. "Don't look so worried, will you? I'll introduce you as Mabel, concert pianist extraordinaire, and no one will know--well, except the people who already know." He frowned. "Think David will tell on us? Maybe I can figure out how to bypass Topeka," he muttered, and tugged impatiently at the thick knot. "Damned thing--"
The wind snapped a sheet loose and it billowed upward. Jack swore and started after it as it sailed to the far edge of the roof. For one eternal instant, Sutton could only watch, until dread set him racing after Jack. He flung himself desperately as they reached the roof's edge and landed hard, with Jack underneath him. As he caught his breath, Jack rolled under him, d
ragging the sheet over the ledge and across his chest like a military sash. "Saved it."
"You did," Sutton said with relief, dropping his head on Jack's shoulder. "Are you all right?"
Jack sighed. "Much better. You're warm as toast."
At the touch of a cold cheek against his neck, Sutton gasped. "You're like ice. For God's sake, Jack. You'll catch the--you'll catch a cold."
"So warm me up," Jack murmured, burrowing closer.
"It's about to rain--and I'm not sure you're in a condition to do anything but sleep."
"You'd be amazed what I can accomplish in this condition," Jack said as Sutton hauled him to his feet.
"I will be amazed if you can get downstairs without falling on your head."
"On less than half a bottle?"
"Put on your coat." Trading it for the sheet, Sutton tied two corners of the sheet to Jack's suspenders and bid him hold the remaining corners. Jack blinked in confusion.
"What for?"
"Our good deed of the day. Stay with me now."
Jack followed obediently as Sutton took down the clothes piece by piece, folded, then tucked them into the sheet. When the line was bare, Sutton took it down and put it into Jack's makeshift basket. "There we are. Mr. Valmeer is spared Mrs. Valmeer's wrath and I am spared chasing you around the roof all night."
"The tools," Jack said as Sutton started for the door. "Can't leave them in the rain." Sutton picked up the box and lantern, and Jack nodded at the bottle on the ledge. "Better take that, too. Cost me six dollars."
"You paid six dollars for a bottle of gin?"
"Was the cheapest they had." Jack leaned against the door. "Harry's going to kill me."
Sutton tucked the bottle in the box and went ahead of Jack on the stairs. "I will tell him--"
"You're not taking the blame for me."
"This was partly my fault."
"It was all mine. If Chase shows up for his money tomorrow, I'll just have to borrow six bucks from Harry and take my medicine. Won't be the first time and won't be the last."
Mr. Valmeer's gratitude was effusive, and punctuated with bear hugs and the occasional pat on the head. He invited them in for a hot rum and rambled with some indignation about peace terms, Bolsheviks, and the cost of a quart of milk. They stayed until one, when Sutton, feeling as sleepy as Jack looked, suggested it was time to go. He anticipated a warm bed as they shuffled down the drafty flights, but knew, when Jack paused with a key in the lock and a bright gleam in his eyes, that bed might be waiting a while longer.
"I know how we can make up that six without worrying Harry."
"Jack, it's one in the morning--"
"All the better. Come on."
- Thirty-One -
Sutton scrambled after him as he took off down the stairs. The sharp wind welcomed them back outdoors, along with a steady drizzle of cold rain. "Where are we going?"
"Just around the corner."
"Jack--"
"To the club. Come on. Quick march."
Just around the corner stretched another four blocks to a neighborhood Sutton vaguely recognized. The club occupied the bottom floor of a building that looked to have formerly housed some sort of factory, and was now one failed business away from being condemned. Through grimy windows, he heard a lively band and following Jack inside, found the place coming to life in the early hours of the morning. In the smoky room, Sutton discerned couples crowding the floor, races mixed, genders less so. He realized he was staring and he tried to stop. Jack seemed amused by his reaction. "You wouldn't believe how often this place is shut down. Or maybe you would. Hello, Graham. Theo in?"
"Not just yet, old man." A mellow resonance warmed the voice and Sutton turned, curious for a look at the man who went with it. At a height to challenge Ox's and with shoulders far broader, Graham made the most of it in an indigo brocade vest, white ascot with diamond pin, and Gladstone collar that accentuated his solid jawline. He enveloped Jack in muscular arms and over Jack's shoulder, offered Sutton a meaty hand to shake. "Say, Jack, is this boy yours or did he follow you in?"
"He's mine," Jack said. "Anything doing tonight?"
The wide-set deep blue eyes stayed on Sutton. "Maybe. Tell me what you're looking for."
"I just need to make a few bucks. Not enough to scare anyone away," Jack told him.
A flirtatious smile flashed. "I'll give you ten, just for an hour with this handsome chap," he said and winked at Sutton.
Sutton ducked behind Jack and whispered, "Can't I just lend you the six?"
Jack groaned. "Graham, leave him alone, will you? He's from Kansas, for God's sake."
"Is he? Well, don't they grow 'em sweet." Graham chuckled. "You boys go on back. If Theo comes in, I'll let him know you're here."
The back was nothing more than a long room occupied on one side by beer barrels, the other by end-to-end pool tables. Only the last table was in use, by a foursome too intent on the game to do more than glance at the newcomers. Bare bulbs overhead flickered and the air hung sour with the odor of beer and cigarettes. As unwelcoming as the atmosphere was, Sutton preferred it to Graham's amorous attention. "There's no one to play," he whispered to Jack.
"Might as well warm up. Someone'll come in."
A far door which was used, Sutton assumed, by those who did not want to come in through the bar, opened to admit two familiar figures. Sutton's sudden lungful of stale air wasn't enough to quell the uneasy stirring in his gut. "We should go."
"Are you serious? This is perfect. I'll get a little of my own back." Jack turned as Vance and Ned came within earshot. "Evening, boys. Interested in a game?"
Ned shook his head. "Don't do it," he muttered to Vance.
Vance yanked a stick from the rack.
Jack may have downed too much gin, but his dexterity extended to pool. It didn't take Vance long to figure out he was up against no average player and his annoyance led to more missed shots. Though Jack had his six dollars in short order, Sutton could see he wanted to keep playing just for the satisfaction.
Ned, finishing his beer, got up with a grunt. "Let's go. We got collections in the morning."
"That we do," Vance said with a grim smile at Jack. "Since it's after midnight, we can start with you."
"I think I'd rather hand it over to Mr. Chase, myself," Jack said. "First thing in the morning will be fine."
"We take care of collections for Mr. Chase," Vance said. "You give it to us, we give it to him. That's how it works. Right, Ned?"
"That's how," Ned agreed, warily watching Jack.
"All right. I'll give it to you boys. Tomorrow, when Mr. Chase is around, too." Jack turned to Sutton. "Ready to go?"
Vance muscled past Sutton and shoved Jack onto the pool table, to pin him with a stick pressed against his throat. "Sounds to me like you're thinking we'd cheat Mr. Chase out of his money."
Jack's knuckles went white around the pool cue. "I think you'd hold off telling him I paid, for the chance to break some bones out of spite."
"I'll do a lot more than break your bones." Vance leaned harder. Sutton grabbed him, only to be wrenched away by Ned. Before Ned could swing at him, rescue came.
"Not in here, boys." Graham's voice became deep and cold as a well. Theo, beside him, leveled a gun at Vance.
Spitting threats under his breath, Vance backed off. Graham's attention shifted to Ned, who let go of Sutton. "That's better. Now get the hell out of my place."
Vance snapped the pool cue in half and tossed it to the floor. "Going to call the cops?"
Graham merely smiled. "Why? So they can identify your body after they pull it from the river?"
"Think anyone would miss them?" Jack asked, rubbing his neck as he sat up.
Theo steadied the aim he trained on Vance. "Shall we find out?"
His cheery tone clearly unsettled Ned. "Come on," he muttered.
A venomous promise in his stare, Vance let Ned push him out the door. The gun vanished under Theo's coat. "You just make friends where
ver you go, don't you, dear?" he asked, hugging Jack. "Get your money?"
"Yeah, but it's just going to Chase tomorrow," Jack said.
"Never mind," Graham said. "I'll buy you boys a drink."
He settled them at a table near the band and a waiter brought them roast beef sandwiches and coffee. Still a little shaken by the confrontation with Ned and Vance, Sutton wasn't hungry, but found the band agreeably distracting. He had not noticed at first glance that the banjo player, in a dark suit and tie, was female, her short hair curled against her rouged cheeks. She and the clarinetist, a boy not more than eighteen, were the only white members of the band. He perched on a stool beside the piano, his clarinet bell occasionally bouncing against his propped right leg while the left, with nothing below the knee but a neatly pinned trouser cuff, dangled as if for the moment forgotten.
He had a cigarette in one hand, as did the gentleman playing the trombone, and Sutton half-expected to see smoke curling out of the horns. Smoke nearly enveloped the bandstand but didn't hinder anyone's playing--though Sutton imagined it would have been a challenge to read sheet music, if they were so inclined.
Each member soloed a while before the band finished together. The pianist called for a round of drinks and, while the other members took a break, dove into another piece with such unusual style, Sutton crept closer to watch him play. Beneath an agile left hand, chords bloomed from the middle register as well as the lower, trading off with lone bass notes, octaves, and fully formed tenths that left Sutton breathless. The right hand embellished with fat chords of its own, lending the melody new brilliance as it swooped up, under, and in between wonderfully indulgent runs.
The resulting rhythm would not be resisted. More of the crowd flew to their feet to dance. When low laughter rumbled under the music, Sutton looked from the keyboard, to find the pianist's coal-black gaze fixed with great amusement on him. Taken aback, he nodded a greeting. "How do you do?"
"Well, how d'y'do," the pianist said, laughing. He brought the piece to an abrupt, off-handed but twinkling finish and turned his full attention on Sutton. "You play, son?"