However, wishing he could help was as far as Trip could go. The accepting part was something Nick had to do for himself and in his own good time. First, Nick needed time to grieve, and the sooner he got that over and done with, the better.
Wanting to change the subject fast before he got sidetracked into even more places he couldn't allow himself to go, Trip switched gears. "Well, you'll be happy to know Jim has talked to one of your old contacts, and they're able to supply us with all the crab we need. So, that's the biggest of our immediate problems taken care of."
"Hey, that's great. And Enzio, the singing chef I told you about who used to work for me, arrived last night. Right now, he's here in the main kitchen peeling oranges for the sfogliatelle. He also makes the most magnificent cassata, so we can tick both those items off the list, too."
"Good. Now, is there anything else I need to know about the opening? Anything that's missing, still undecided, or any other small stuff I can maybe help you with?" Trip asked.
Nick frowned. "Nothing I can think of. Of course, that's not to say there won't be before this day's over. I'm still waiting for Silvia to let me know if she wants white linen cloths with black napkins or vice versa. It's not a problem because we have enough of both colors in stock to do it either way. Apart from that the only other thing I'm waiting on is a definite delivery date on the monogrammed silverware."
"Is that likely to be a problem?"
Nick shook his head. "Nope. The last time I spoke with the engraver, he assured me the job is well in hand, and we'll have delivery either the end of this week or first thing next."
"And what about the flowers for the tables? Anything definite decided there?"
"Silvia's still playing with various color combinations. Last time we spoke, she was wavering back and forth between different shades of pink, or alternatively, everything between the palest mauve to the deepest purple. Anyway, that's not our problem. Once she makes up her mind, she says she'll have our regular florist take care of the details."
"Okay. The rest of the new chairs arrived yesterday, the tables will be here tomorrow, and the actual construction work is closer to being completed than I realized. Once the plumbers and the electricians finish what they have to do, and the appliances are in and the kitchen is operative, we can start working on the set-up. In the meantime, if you want to cut out early today, that's fine by me. I'm sure you'll more than make up for the time in the weeks to come."
Nick gave him an inquiring glance that Trip ignored by simply looking in another direction. Nick had to know that Trip would, of necessity, be in the loop about what had gone down earlier. However, it didn't give Trip license to start giving opinions on what Nick should or shouldn't do about the situation, or offer him a shoulder to cry on.
In an effort to cover what felt like an awkward moment, he leaned back in his chair and said, "This week has gone by so damn fast, I can't believe it's Friday tomorrow. What do you say to going across to the Rio this weekend and checking out their poker games for a change? Maybe we could eat there, too? Try out their seafood restaurant and see if we can pick up any ideas."
"Such as make sure our regular menu in no way resembles theirs?"
Trip chuckled. "You see anything wrong with that?"
"No." Nick shook his head. "You can be quite sure one of their people will be over here, checking us out the moment we open for business. That's why I've based our menu on some old family recipes and also tweaked a few of the traditional ones. I'm also in the process of creating a couple of really different signature dishes that I'm hoping will give us an edge."
"Inspired by dishes you've had elsewhere, or are these your own brand new creations?" Trip asked.
"A little of this and a little of that." Nick laughed, exposing a tiny dimple near his chin. "As soon as I'm ready to take them public, I promise to let you have the first taste."
* * * *
When got home to his apartment, Nick took a beer from the refrigerator and flipped open the tab. After taking a long pull of the cold beverage, he sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the phone. Should he go with his gut that Enzio was wrong about Missy and forget what he'd said? Al and Missy hadn't been married that long, and, as with most newlyweds, people were bound to be a tad curious about their intentions regarding a family. Anyway, as an only child and a single man, what did Enzio know about pregnancy? She could have put on weight; it could have been the clothes she was wearing. Clothes could be misleading. He remembered his mom throwing out a dress she said she hated because it made her look pregnant. In fact, if Missy had put on a few pounds, Nick was pretty sure Enzio wouldn't have been the only one to put two and two together and make five.
Although ninety-nine percent certain that was what had happened, Nick knew he'd never get the possibility out of his mind until he was completely sure. However, the only way he could know was to call Al. And if, as he suspected, what Enzio had told him was untrue, then what?
Would Al figure it was just an excuse he'd made up to call? Take it as a sign of weakness? Maybe figure that after six weeks of silence, Nick was worried enough to give in and call so he could find out if Al was still interested?
Taking his beer with him, Nick went into the living room, stretched out on the blue velvet sofa and turned on TV.
For months, he'd been telling himself he still loved Al and, despite all his reservations and everything Al had done, he still wanted him back. But did he really want that? And if he did, how come Trip seemed to be taking over his thoughts so much lately? Why had he been so affected by Trip's touch earlier, and why had he imagined himself and Trip getting naked? If he cared so much for Al, he wouldn't be having thoughts like that, not even casual thoughts, and they'd been anything but that. He also wouldn't care whether Trip was gay, straight, bisexual, or plain not interested.
Okay, so he'd thought about calling Al a thousand times, just to hear his voice, or so he'd told himself. However, like Al, Nick was stubborn. He didn't want to be the first to give in. If he did, Al would likely take it as total capitulation and assume Nick was prepared to move back up north.
Nick was prepared to do no such thing. If they did get back together, Nick knew the only way their relationship could be saved would be on his terms. Al would have to move to Vegas. If he made that clear from the word go...
Did he even want them to get back together? He was fast coming to the conclusion stubborn pride wasn't real the reason he hadn't called Al; it was just an excuse. Another excuse not to come straight out and say, "I love ya, babe, but this isn't working and we both know it never will."
No! He wasn't ready for that...or was he still looking for even more excuses to delay admitting he was more than ready and it was time to actually do something about it? One thing was certain--he could not continue this waffling back and forth. One minute holding his breath and hoping Al would smarten up. The next giving himself a hard-on by imagining Trip naked.
He finished his beer and went back to the kitchen. After staring at the wall phone for a moment, he picked up the receiver and dialed Al's private number.
It was late in the afternoon and, although he half-expected the call to go to voice-mail, Al picked up on the second ring. "Hello. Who is this?"
"It's me," Nick said shortly. He wanted to lay it straight on the line, but something held him back. "And before you get any wrong ideas about the reason I'm calling, it's because I'd like to know if you've given any consideration to moving down here."
"No, I'm afraid I haven't. I'm sorry, I really am. I've...um...err...I've been so busy lately what with work and one thing and another I've barely had time to think, let alone breathe. You know how it goes. Anyway, it's nice to hear from you. How are things in Vegas? Job still going well, I hope."
Just listening to Al's nervous gabble made Nick's spirits, as well as any hope he may have had about Enzio's news being wrong sink to the region of his ankles. He didn't have to worry about Al assuming a single thing about his call. Al was too b
usy trying to cover his ass by pretending everything in his world was just cool as could be when Nick could tell it was the complete opposite.
"So, I guess what I've heard is true then," Nick said, trying not to let his pain show in his voice. "That congratulations are in order since you're about to be a daddy?" He paused, swallowed the lump in his throat and cursed softly. "You know what really pisses me off the most, though? It's the way you came down here, pretending you wanted to kiss and make up, knowing damn well that could never happen. That the real reason Missy didn't come with you was because her pregnancy was too far along, and no way could you have talked yourself out of that one. God, I can't believe I'm saying this, but you two deserve one another. Neither one of you has a clue what's really important."
There were a few seconds of complete silence, and then Al said, "How the hell did you find out about this? Who told you?"
"A friend. You live on the outskirts of Buffalo, Al, not on the far side of the fucking moon, you moron. How long did you expect to keep this a secret?"
"I...um...I...err...I don't know. Look, Nick." Al's voice suddenly got stronger, more confident. "You have no idea what it's been like for me here. I had no choice. I was constantly hassled by Missy's dragon of a father. The sonfabitch even had the audacity to call my manhood into question. He said if we didn't have some good news to share with him very soon, he'd assume one of us had a problem, and he'd make arrangements with a fertility clinic to have us checked out. The man's a lunatic, Nick. What else could we do?"
"How did Missy feel about being forced into motherhood the old-fashioned way? Bearing in mind she's also gay."
"Yeah, well, that's another thing." Al sighed deeply. "And before you say you told me so, that you warned me she had some kind of agenda, well, guess what? You were absolutely right. She's not gay and never has been. But her father was bugging her to get married and settle down, and she said all the guys in her social set had faces like fried running shoes and personalities to match, and she'd rather die than marry one of them."
"She pretended to be gay just to get out from under?"
"She said she did it to give herself some breathing space. She thought if she pretended to be gay, her family would back off and leave her to live her own life however she wished. But I'm afraid what happened after that was pretty much my fault because I gave her the idea."
"You did what?"
"I had a feeling she wasn't really gay, so I asked her straight out and, after a couple of drinks, she admitted I was right. After telling me about her dad and the reason for the pretence, she started rabbiting on about how all the cutest and best-looking men were all gay. And if she could just figure out a way of getting one to use for window dressing, she'd be happy and it would get Daddy off her case permanently. But, of course, she knew there was no way that could ever happen."
Nick felt physically ill. "And you said?"
"That everyone had their price. All she needed to do was find someone who wanted something she had and then make him an offer he couldn't refuse. I was just joking, Nick. I swear. I had no idea she would take me seriously."
"That was until you heard what she was offering and you just closed your eyes and went for it. I don't believe this!"
Nick banged his fist hard against the wall, making the dishes in the cupboards rattle. Between frustration and impotent fury, he was about ready to explode. "What in hell were the pair of you thinking? That it was okay to throw the rest of the world under the bus provided it got both of you what you wanted?"
"I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I don't know what else to tell you. It was intended as a temporary measure to solve both our problems. How in hell were we to know it would get so far out of hand?"
"Because neither of you stopped to think of anything except yourselves and what you wanted. You should both be locked up."
"I know you're angry, Nick. I can't say I blame you. I'd be pretty damn upset myself if our positions were reversed. Unfortunately, it is what it is. You know I love you. I'll always love you, no question there; you know that without me having to put it into words. But please, Nick, you have to see this situation from my perspective. The old guy told me he had proof I was gay, so he laid it right on the line. If we didn't get busy and give him a couple of grandkids, I'd never get anywhere in the firm, and I could forget about a partnership. I'd never get a job anywhere else--he said he'd make sure of that, too. Plus, if there were no grandkids, there'd be nothing for Missy to inherit either. He swore he'd leave every last cent to charity."
"And, of course, you believed him."
"You bet. Old Hilldale is a man of his word. Like I said, he gave us no choice. Either go along with what he wanted and do it now, or else. Look, Nick. I'm sorry. I really am. I realize you feel that I've screwed up, and maybe I have, a little."
"A little? That's one helluva understatement."
"Maybe so, but sometimes a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do, and this was one of those times. That's why I wanted you to come home, so I could explain the whole thing to you properly, and we could work out some kind of a solution. We still can."
"You have really got to be kidding!" Nick's vision began to blur, and he knew he needed to calm down. "Are you completely nuts?"
"Come on, Nick. I'm willing to give it a shot if you are."
"Meaning you want me up there with you so your life can return to the way it was. You'll be able to have all the joys of both worlds again. We'll be back to sneaking around, inventing trips out of town and having a quickie on the sly whenever you have a few minutes to spare. Or, hey, maybe we can even resort to the odd bit of DIY over the phone if all else fails. Whatever floats your boat, right?" Unable to cope with his feelings of anger and disgust, Nick's voice had started to crack, and his eyes were burning with unshed tears.
As for the pain around his heart, it was close to unbearable. Nick had had no idea this kind of betrayal could hurt so much. "Well, fuck you. That ain't gonna to happen, no way and no how. If money and position mean so much to you, then go for it, sucker, because I'm done. Finished. You're one sick, selfish bastard. And I won't say, have a nice life, cuz the truth is, I hope you burn in hell."
Nick slammed down the receiver, his face wet with tears and the pain of feeling he'd been kicked in the gut for the second time that day. All he wanted to do was curl up and die. His thoughts flashed to Trip for a brief second, but he blocked the image. No! That wouldn't be fair.
Nick knew he should have expected something like this. For as long as he'd known him, ambition had been Al's number one drug of choice--the guy their classmates had voted most likely to succeed. Now, it seemed his precious ambition had taken over his life to the point it was clear there was nothing Al wouldn't do to achieve his dreams. Always striving for the next chance to show-off and shine, the next promotion, the next opportunity to preen and say, Hey, folks, look at me and see how well I'm doing.
He should have made a firm stand when Missy came up with her bizarre plan of marriage, insisted that Al choose between what they had and what Missy was offering. Fact was he'd been all ready to do exactly that, but then he'd seen the stars in Al's eyes at the thought of what Missy was promising and realized he couldn't win. Because he loved Al and because he couldn't face losing him completely, Nick had made the mistake of settling for whatever he could get. All the while, of course, hoping Al would figure out if Missy was on the level or, if she was working some kind of con, get out while he still had the chance.
"Well, there's no way out for him now," Nick muttered, reaching in the fridge for another beer. Missy's agenda had been a whole lot different than either he or Al could ever have imagined, and no way could either have them guessed her real goal was to acquire a handsome, sexy man any which way she could and hang on to him, permanently. He tried to imagine Al as a daddy--Al bouncing a baby girl on his knee or teaching a boy to play baseball, but the images wouldn't come. The only picture he could see in his mind was Al turning up unexpectedly
at Butterscotch Dreams and the wicked grin on Al's face as he'd maneuvered him into the kitchen in back where--
Nick blanked his mind, fast. He couldn't go there--wouldn't go there--not if he hoped to hang on to his sanity. He thought about calling Trip, but again only briefly. He'd already sought Trip's advice on the problem, and he wasn't about to put unfair pressure on their friendship by unloading on him again. He cared for him too much to do that. This was something Nick knew he had to work through on his own.
He returned the can of beer to the fridge, unopened. For starters, moping around the apartment rehashing everything over and over would only make things worse. He needed to get out of here and clear his head. Find something else to occupy his mind for a few hours. If it was cool enough, he could take a walk down the Strip--there were still a whole bunch of places he'd never found time to check out. Or maybe he'd go over to the Loop. Find a spot with music and dancing, maybe one of those places that had a show. Anyplace where he could have fun and pretend Al didn't exist, had never existed, or even get a bit hammered and spill his guts to a stranger if he felt so inclined. Any place would do, provided there was enough action it didn't allow him the opportunity to think.
* * * *
After going into one very crowded club and watching an amazingly talented drag queen do perfect imitations of several top female singers, Nick gave up on waiting for the drink he'd ordered and moved to the place next door. At least there was room for him to sit down at the bar, and it took the heavily tattooed barman less than five minutes to bring him his vodka and tonic. Nick rarely drank liquor and, when he did, he usually asked for a beer chaser, but not tonight. Tonight, he needed the extra buzz liquor always gave him, and a couple of quick vodkas would do that. If for some reason it didn't do the trick, he'd order one of those extra-strength imported beers to help it along. One way or the other, he needed to lighten up and let loose a little, and maybe, by morning, he might even start seeing life without Al as a plus.
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