Lying Eyes

by Robert Winter

  “I’ve never seen you so happy, darling. Hold on to your bear with both hands.” She’d winked at Randy.

  When he saw Danny again, his hair was styled and he had a new but serviceable wardrobe. Sophie left him with enough practical clothes so he could carry out his community service hours at Rainbow Space, but otherwise she was ruthless in consigning his sweatshirts and other used things to Goodwill.

  The next time she’d pulled Danny off into the night to let Jack and Randy be together, Randy heard her grill Danny about what he might like to do with his future. He’d been unreasonably proud when he heard Danny say as he walked out the door, “I’ve been thinking I’d like to know more about computers.”

  It was probably too soon to think in terms of a life with Jack, but if that developed the way Randy hoped, he knew Sophie would become his sister every bit as much as she was already Jack’s.

  Randy snapped out of his reverie as he reached the side room and stopped in his tracks. Jack and Sophie had assembled a collection of portraits on the walls, but the most prominent pieces were his portrait of Thomas and his painting of Danny looking forlornly out the window of Del’s Diner. He’d only completed the canvas a week earlier, but Jack had managed to get the piece framed in a way that echoed Thomas’s portrait.

  Embarrassment and pride warred in Randy as warmth crept up his neck and probably turned his scalp red. Jack wrapped arms around him from behind. “They’re really good, Randy. You need to display them.”

  Randy turned his head to nuzzle Jack’s scented neck. “I never told you I painted that one,” he said, indicating the picture of Thomas.

  “You didn’t have to. Your style is mature and consistent with the portrait of Danny. Particularly the melancholia in their eyes.”

  Sophie chimed in, “I think you could find an audience, if you want to display or sell your work.” She gave him a sweet, teasing grin. “I have an ‘in’ with the Valcoates Auction House if you’d like to pursue this.”

  Jack kissed Randy’s cheek. “Maybe when we’re in London next month you should meet with Sophie’s father. He handles acquisitions. I could arrange to ship a few pieces over for you.”

  “I think there’ll be plenty of drama next month without adding that kind of stress,” Randy said. “The unveiling of Sunrise, your lecture, then the auction. Whew! That’s enough.”

  The auction would take place two weeks after the reveal gala, so Randy and Jack planned to stay in Sophie’s apparently enormous flat as a base for side trips as Jack led Randy around England on a guided tour.

  They were even going to visit Stoke-on-Trent, and Randy looked forward to seeing Jack’s home town. He’d like to thank Jack’s mother for the love and support she’d shown when Jack decided to pursue art history. On the other hand, Jack’s father and brothers sounded like pieces of work; Randy probably shouldn’t hope for the opportunity to make out with his boyfriend in front of them and dare them to pull some shit.

  “You’re growling, love,” Jack murmured as he leaned into Randy’s body and brought him back to Mata Hari.

  “Sorry. Just thinking about our trip to England next month.”

  “Speaking of,” Jack said with a glance at his watch, “it’s about time we leave for the airport to bring Danny to Portland. Yes?”

  “Five minutes and we’re out of here.” He hugged Sophie, as she was returning to London later that day. “See you soon,” he promised, then left Jack and Sophie to their goodbyes while he rounded up Danny.

  He found him showing the new bar manager, Rudy, how to use the computer Danny had persuaded Randy to install as an upgrade to the piece of shit in place since Mata Hari opened. Rudy was seated in Randy’s chair with Danny hovering over his shoulder, but he jumped up when Randy poked his head into the office.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry—” Rudy started to say but Randy cut him off.

  “Don’t be. It’s your office now. I’ll get my personal stuff out when I return next week.”

  Rudy sank back into the office chair and grinned as it squeaked. “What do you think, Danielito? Do you think the guapo dueño will mind if I replace this chair?” His grin lit up his eyes, and Randy figured that his outgoing personality and confidence meant he’d do just fine managing the bar.

  With everything that was changing in Randy’s life—not least the potential to find himself with a large nest egg if Sunrise did well at auction—he’d let Thomas persuade him it was time to step back and see Mata Hari continue to grow under a new manager.

  A year of working from four in the afternoon until two in the morning had gotten old, especially now he had Jack in his life. Jack would be starting his job at the Smithsonian when the two of them returned from England, and Randy could see no way to make Jack’s conventional work schedule jibe with a bartender’s life. Randy and Thomas would remain co-owners of Mata Hari, and Randy was sure he’d be in often because he really loved the place. But yeah, he was ready to go back to life at more normal times.

  He’d talked to Malcolm about moving to bar manager, but the young man had just grinned at him. “Shit, boss man, I appreciate the offer but I don’t want that kind of responsibility. Let me bartend for you, and I’ll show whoever you hire how you like things to run.”

  So Randy had met Rudy Portillo, a handsome man originally from El Salvador, and they hit it off right away. Thomas’s friend David and his husband Brandon, who had finally come by the bar one night with Joe, put in good words for the flirtatious young man they knew from Provincetown.

  “Go ahead, order a new chair if you want,” Randy said. “Danny, it’s time to hit the road. Rudy, you’ve got all the phone numbers in case anything comes up?”

  “I’m all set. Have a good trip and I’ll try not to bother you.”

  Danny carried his luggage to the front door and paused to look around Mata Hari. “I’m going to miss this place,” he said hoarsely and then turned away before he teared up. Randy patted his shoulder, scooped up his bags, and carried them to the truck.

  Jack already had it running and waited beside it. Randy threw the luggage in the back as Danny said, “I almost forgot, Jack. I left you a folder of recipes of things Randy likes to eat.”

  Jack laughed. “I’m no cook. Randy is going to have to get used to takeaway again, or fire up his own range.” He shot a heated look toward Randy. “I have to find other ways to keep him happy than through his belly.”

  Danny looked troubled, but Randy chuckled. “You know, I did take care of myself before you moved in.”

  “Yeah, burgers at Del’s Diner at three in the morning isn’t taking care of yourself,” Danny muttered, then he smiled shyly when the other two men laughed. “Okay, I’ll let it go. But I’m coming back to check you’re eating right.”

  “Any time, kid. You know that.”

  Grinning, Danny climbed into the passenger side. Randy and Jack looked at each other, their breath fogging in the cold air. Jack threw his arms around Randy and hugged him tightly. “I hope your Luc will like me,” he confessed into Randy’s chest.

  Randy kissed the top of his head. “Not a doubt in my mind. He still has an eye for a handsome face so you’ve got no worries there.” Jack laughed before Randy said softly, “Anyway, all that really matters to him is that you make me happy. And you do.”

  He bent his head to take Jack’s lips and warmth, to taste his clever tongue and claim the moan of pleasure he drew forth. Yet even as Randy gathered his lover to himself and asserted his control, he knew that, in truth, he belonged to Jack body and soul.

  • • •

  Six hours later, Danny fidgeted next to Randy in the rental car as they pulled into the prison’s visitor lot. Jack had stayed behind in Portland, getting to know Luc. Randy hoped Luc would keep the embarrassing pictures and stories to a minimum, but since Jack was the only man Randy had brought home in decades, there was little chance of that kind of restraint happening.

  “Ready?” Randy asked and Danny nodded nervously. They climbed out and
walked through the entrance to sign in. The linoleum floor, vinyl-covered chairs, and scattered wooden tables of the waiting room were clean but sterile. The receptionist was pleasant enough, though a guard hovering on the other side of a barred gate left no illusions that they were anywhere but a prison. Danny settled on the edge of a chair and chewed a fingernail while Randy got sodas out of a machine.

  Everything had happened so quickly. Maybe it was the fact Christmas was coming up, but Judge Rhodes had scheduled the resentencing petition for a hearing just two weeks after Henry’s lawyer filed it. Luc and Randy had both attended, and while the judge had been surprised they now supported Henry’s release, she’d agreed to commute his sentence to ten years’ probation.

  And now less than two weeks after that, Randy and Danny were at the Maine State Prison. They didn’t have to wait long. A gate buzzed, the guard pulled it open, and Henry walked through to meet them. He had on a thick but worn coat over street clothes, and carried a small suitcase in his hand.

  As Henry looked around the waiting room to find them, he gnawed on his lower lip the same way Danny did. A blur of purple and auburn charged forward and Henry barely had time to drop his case before Danny wrapped arms around him like a boa constrictor.

  “Dad,” he choked out as he buried his face in Henry’s neck.

  Henry hugged him back and closed his eyes. “Danny,” he whispered while he rocked to and fro. “My boy.”

  Randy wiped at his own eyes as he stepped forward to pick up the suitcase. Henry disengaged gently from Danny and held out his hand. When Randy took it, Henry looked up at him with those amber eyes so much like his son’s and said, “I don’t know how to thank you for this chance. I’ll never ask for your forgiveness because that’s not something I deserve, but I want you to know, I will do everything in my power to make you proud of your choice and of Danny.”

  Danny pulled Randy into a three-way hug with his father. “Hero,” he mumbled.

  Randy demurred. “No, Danny. I’m just a man who made many mistakes of his own, but meeting you helped me finally face them. One of those was holding on to blind anger and not letting myself see that your dad isn’t the same guy who made his mistake over thirty years ago.”

  Randy’s eyes threatened to fill and he didn’t bother to hide the tears, even if he could have gotten free from Danny’s embrace. He had lived a lot of life to come to a place he couldn’t believe was real. He had good friends, a bar that meant a lot to him, and apparently a small fortune on its way.

  And he had Jack.

  He had the love he’d dreamed of all his life but had given up on finding. They hadn’t quite said the words yet, they hadn’t quite figured out the living arrangements, but in his heart, Randy knew they would, and soon. The way they fit together gave him a quiet, fierce joy.

  And life had somehow even given to him a son of sorts in Danny, one he shared with Henry. Perhaps it was because of the other good things in his life that he was able to let go of the betrayal and acknowledge that Danny was every bit as human as Randy. They’d both made terrible errors, and they’d both let themselves and others down.

  But that wasn’t the end of either of their stories. If Randy could respect those truths about Danny, then maybe he could also live more easily with his own past while he and Jack built their future.

  Entangled as the three of them were, there in the sterile waiting room of a prison in Maine, it was hard to catch Henry’s eye but he did. “You raised your son to own his mistakes and make them right where he can. I think that with you two together, you’ll help him do wonderful things with his life. You don’t have to ask for my forgiveness, Henry. I know Uncle Kevin would forgive you, and so do I.”

  He thought of Jack and Luc waiting, and kissed the top of Danny’s auburn hair. “Now let’s go home.”

  THE END

  Author’s Notes and Acknowledgments

  Jean-Pierre Brousseau, the artist who created Sunrise at the Abbey of Chaalis, is fictional and therefore, sadly, so is Sunrise. I based Jack Fraser’s research and scholarship on the fascinating discovery of a previously unknown work by Vincent van Gogh. In 2013, Louis van Tilborgh and Teio Meedendorp, two senior researchers of the Van Gogh Museum, were credited with identifying an unsigned canvas as the painting Sunset at Montmajour. The story can be found at www.vangoghmuseum.nl/en/news-and-press/news/new-discovery-sunset-at-montmajour.

  Jack lives in London but he comes from Stokes-on-Trent. “Stokies” speak what is referred to as Potteries dialect, full of interesting and unusual words. My favorite is probably “monstink”, which means a pretentious young person. Jack straddles the two places—London and Stokes-on-Trent—and his native voice tends to slip out when he is exceptionally angry or exceptionally relaxed. I am grateful for the help of Kimi Saunders and Michelle Sims in my use of Potteries; any errors are entirely mine. Readers interested in the lexicon of this district might find these references useful: “North Staffordshire Dialect – Words and Phrases” at www.thepotteries.org/dialect1.html and “Potteries 101: 84 words and phrases to help a non-Stokie understand the Potteries dialect” at www.stokesentinel.co.uk/potteries-101/story-24534365-detail/story.html.

  I am humbled and grateful for the help I received in learning how to publish this book on my own. Thank you especially to Leta Blake and Keira Andrews for their generous assistance and unstinting support. Thanks also to Brandon Witt, Devon McCormack and Lori Blantin for answering my questions.

  Thank you to SB for his invaluable assistance in commenting on my descriptions of rope play and the leather community. Again, errors are all mine.

  I have taken some liberties with the Maine corrections system to avoid distractions in the story.

  If there are no tunnels connecting DC warehouses to the railroad, there ought to be.

  About the Author

  Robert Winter lives and writes in Provincetown. He is a recovering lawyer who prefers writing about hot men in love much more than drafting a legal brief. He left behind the (allegedly) glamorous world of an international law firm to sit in his home office and dream up ways to torment his characters until they realize they are perfect for each other.

  When he isn’t writing, Robert likes to cook Indian food and explore new restaurants. He splits his attention between Andy, his partner of sixteen years, and Ling the Adventure Cat, who likes to fly in airplanes and explore the backyard jungle as long as the temperature and humidity are just right.

  Contact Robert at the following links:

  Website:

  www.robertwinterauthor.com

  Facebook:

  facebook.com/robert.winter.921230

  Goodreads:

  goodreads.com/author/show/16068736.Robert_Winter

  Twitter:

  twitter.com/@RWinterAuthor

  Email:

  RobertWinterAuthor@comcast.net

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