The Imperfection of Swans

by Brandon Witt

  Casper finally looked at the program he held in his hands. The play was Mothers and Sons, written by Terrence McNally. It showed a woman on the bridge in Public Park, the trees red in fall splendor around her. It looked lovely. But that title…. He could almost hear his mother’s voice. Maybe one of the couples would want to duck out early for a threesome.

  BY THE time the play was over, sex was the last thing on Casper’s mind. The play had been beautiful, but sad. Bringing up the AIDS crisis of the eighties and diving full force into the struggles some families had accepting their homosexual children, it hit a little too close to home.

  While Casper’s own mother wasn’t quite as drastic as the character in the play, she and his father were definitely products of their environment. And the Focus on the Family mantras in Colorado Springs ran deep to their hearts. He was even more relieved he’d not requested time off for Christmas. Going home sounded worse than annoying roommates.

  The night had gone from frigid to downright bitter. Even so, Casper wasn’t ready to go home. And it was only eight thirty. Still too early for the bars to be in full swing, but surely the crowd at the Eagle had picked up somewhat. Maybe there’d be someone there who could get him back in the mood.

  A few feet from the doorway marked with a huge stone eagle, Casper’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He nearly ignored it. Probably one of his roommates. Although it might be Charu finishing up her shift. Hanging out with her would be the perfect way to end the evening.

  He pulled out his cell and tapped the message.

  Brent.

  Hey! Long time. A group of us are just leaving a work xmas party. Going out for drinks. Wanna join?

  He wished it had been Charu. But still. If Brent was texting, that probably meant sex was back on the table.

  He glanced again at the Eagle. Dammit. Why pretend that ease wasn’t going to win?

  Sure. Where you going?

  A few moments passed as Casper shivered in the cold before his phone buzzed again.

  Not sure yet, somewhere in Beacon Hill. You won’t even have to go far. Text when you’re dressed and I’ll let ya know where we end up.

  K. Soon.

  Great. Back home. Casper looked toward the Eagle once more. While endless possibilities could be fun, Brent was a sure thing, and being with a group that was in the Christmas spirit could be good for him.

  CASPER

  THE JEWEL was the most luxurious and expensive hotel in Beacon Hill. It also housed Savor, a five-star restaurant and bar. Incidentally, Savor had been voted best desserts in Boston for the past three years, a fact that Casper relished.

  “You missing work so much that you’re here on your days off now?”

  The valet opened the door, and Casper shook his head as he stepped through. “Not hardly, Robert, and days off implies plural. If that’s the case, I don’t know what job you’re talking about.”

  Before taking the elevator to Jewel, which took up the entire thirty-sixth floor at the top of the hotel, Casper stopped off at the restroom.

  Of course Brent had waited until ten minutes before, after Casper was already back in Beacon Hill, to text where the group had decided to go. And he knew there was no coincidence. He had half a mind to pull a no-show, hop back on the Orange Line, and see what the Eagle had to offer.

  The thought just made him tired.

  Casper stood in front of the walls of mirrors in the men’s room. He didn’t look as haggard as he felt. He leaned in, angling his face. Another splurge. However, he didn’t feel the least bit of guilt about these either. The week-old frameless glasses were worth it. The floating oval lenses brought to mind Steve Jobs, but more modern, and the tortoiseshell temples took them back to retro. Satisfied, he inspected the rest of his appearance. He smoothed out his slim-cut shirt and rolled up the sleeves over his elbows, exposing the lower half of the tattoo sleeve that covered his right arm. Raking his fingers through his brown hair, he wished he had more product. Instead of sweeping back, the thick mop leaned to one side. Whatever—it wasn’t like Brent would care. Or even notice.

  Actually this was better than going to the bar. Casper was never the prettiest or most appealing man in the room. He wasn’t unattractive, but neither did he stand out. At least here, with Brent, he didn’t run the chance of getting passed over.

  HE SPOTTED them easily as soon as he stepped into Savor, a table of five over by the window. Prime location. Someone had name-dropped.

  The model-like girl stiffened behind the hostess stand when she saw Casper and then let loose a too-white, too-toothy smile.

  He managed to keep an annoyed expression off his face. She was always so nervous around him that it put him on edge. He had no idea why. The girl towered over him; she could squish him if she needed to. “Relax, Amber. I’m the head pastry chef, not the head chef or the owner.” He motioned to where he was headed, even though he was certain she knew, and walked past her. “However, if the desserts aren’t up to par, heads will roll….” If nothing else, it was good to make a surprise visit to see if his team was consistent when he wasn’t there. Although he was willing to bet Amber would alert them to his presence. As he neared the table, he glanced back. Sure enough, the leggy redhead was nowhere to be seen.

  “Casper!”

  At the sound of his name, he refocused on the table where Brent stood and motioned him over.

  When he was closer, Brent made a sweeping movement over the table. “Casper, this is everyone. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Casper James.”

  Casper was certain his flinch was visible.

  Brent gave him a quick peck on the cheek and what was intended to be a quick hug. Casper held on, angling his lips up to Brent’s ear. “Boyfriend, really? And I don’t suppose my sudden invitation had anything to do with hoping to get the tab comped.”

  Brent had the sense not to respond as they parted and didn’t meet Casper’s eyes as he sat back down.

  Suddenly his boyfriend, but he doesn’t save me a seat. The tool is so not getting laid tonight. Dammit.

  A larger lady who sat directly across from Brent patted the empty chair beside her. He walked around the table and took a seat. “Thanks. I’m Casper.”

  “I’ve heard.” She offered her hand with a smile. “We all thought he made you up.”

  Casper shook her hand and pulled himself up to the table. “Oh?”

  “Yes. We’ve been hearing about the head-chef boyfriend for months now. Though you seem shorter than I’d been led to believe.” Her smile had grown mocking, but Casper didn’t think the sentiment was directed toward him. “I’m Monica, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Casper glanced over. Brent was fully focused on the man seated next to him, not that Casper could blame him. The man was gorgeous. He returned his attention to Monica. “Not only am I short, but I’m only the head pastry chef.”

  Monica’s expression was back to friendly. “That’s even better, in my opinion.” She raised her voice, drawing the attention of the other four. “All these other Nancys are too dainty to eat carbs or sugar.”

  The gorgeous man beside Brent raised his glass. “Oh, Monica. If I’m going to overload on calories, it will be with a few more of these.” He tilted the glass to his lips, emptying the contents, then inspected it with a playfully panicked expression. “Oh dear. I seem to be out. Let’s fix that.” He scanned the room, spotted the server, and lifted the glass.

  Having been in the food industry for his entire adult life, such a motion would typically trigger Casper, but the way the man had done it, with a charming smile flashed at the server, somehow managed to avoid seeming entitled or belittling.

  Casper addressed the man when he returned the empty glass to the table. “You might change your mind on that. I can personally attest to the quality of the desserts here.” He was never overly comfortable talking to such beautiful men, and, to his embarrassment, he felt his cheeks flush as the man looked at him. Hopefully the room was dim enough that it wasn’t notic
eable.

  “Oh, sorry, Casper. I wasn’t thinking. Brent mentioned you were the head chef here. I didn’t mean to insult the food. I just really like good wine.” He shrugged in a unassuming manner. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Kevin.”

  Casper didn’t correct his position at Savor. He got tired of making the distinction. “No offense taken. We have a wonderful sommelier; I guarantee you’ll be satisfied.”

  Kevin grinned. “I’m well on my way.”

  At that moment, the server, Christine, Casper thought her name was, arrived, bringing a tray of drinks, and then taking his and Monica’s dessert orders.

  DESPITE BRENT’S awkward introduction, Casper was glad he’d come. The table fell into an easy buzz, splitting off into pairs. The two on the opposite end, whose names he couldn’t remember, Brent and Kevin, and he and Monica, who turned out to be a riot. So much so, that between Monica’s irreverent humor and over-the-top makeup, Casper wondered about the possibility of her being a drag queen. The desserts passed his inspection, and the second glass of port made the softly lit room fuzzily romantic and pushed away the thoughts of returning to work here the next afternoon.

  In between laughing bouts with Monica, he found himself nearly staring at the man across from him. Kevin was stunning. His short-cropped hair was dark, so dark that Casper couldn’t tell if it was a deep brown or actually black. His eyes were similar, dark brown with flecks of green that caught the light. A five o’clock shadow darkened his cut jaw and lightly cleft chin. He seemed small, probably about the same height as Casper, though it was hard to tell with them both sitting, but it was easy to see Kevin kept in shape. Again Casper found himself thinking about sex as he looked at him, imagining the muscles and lean body that waited under the designer clothes.

  He’d glanced at Brent occasionally to see if Brent noticed his “boyfriend” inspecting Kevin so closely. Every time he looked, Brent’s full attention was honed onto Kevin as well. If Casper was reading Kevin’s expression correctly, it seemed that Kevin wasn’t exactly comfortable with Brent’s intensity or his nearness. He did a good job hiding it, but it was there. Or maybe it was just the buzz Casper had going.

  One of the name-forgotten women on the opposite end interrupted Casper’s lustful inspection. “So, Kevin, now that Sylvie isn’t here to get teary every time we try to bring it up, tell us about this wedding dress shop you’re buying.”

  Looking relieved to have a place to direct his attention, somewhere other than Brent, Kevin cleared his throat nervously. “Well, I’m hoping to buy a building, and I’m hoping to open a wedding dress shop there. The loan is in progress. It’s been about three weeks. It’s taking forever with all the different angles we have to cover, but I think it’s looking good. If all goes smoothly, we should close in a week.”

  Brent spoke up, seeming like he was trying to regain Kevin’s attention more than actually from genuine interest. “It’s in one of those old brownstones, right?”

  “Well that narrows it down. Very deductive, Brent.” Monica didn’t like Brent. No doubt. Actually Casper had noticed that it seemed no one at the table liked Brent. “Imagine. A brownstone. In Boston.”

  Kevin started to laugh, then cut off abruptly, with a side-glance toward Brent. “You’re right. It is in a brownstone. Right across from the theater in South End.”

  Casper sat up straighter. “The one pretty close to the Eagle?”

  “Uhm….” Kevin narrowed his eyes.

  “About a block away from The Butcher Shop.”

  His eyes lit up. “Yes! That’s the one. You’ve seen it?”

  “Yeah, I went by it tonight.” Casper noticed Brent giving him an accusing look. “I, uh, went to a play this evening.” He turned back to Kevin, shoving his irritation with Brent aside. “The one with the green storefront and the blacked-out windows.”

  Kevin nodded. “Yes. That’s it.”

  “Wow. I’m so stinking jealous. I was just thinking how I’d kill to open a bakery in that spot. Good for you!” Casper meant it. “I hope it works out for you. You’re giving me hope. What’s it like inside?”

  Kevin faltered for a moment, a look of stress or fear washing over his features. “Oh. Let’s just say it’s beautiful from the outside.” A nervous laugh escaped, and he cleared his throat once more. “I’ve spent more time in there than I should. The first floor isn’t too bad. Well, I thought so at first, until I saw the other three stories. I can’t figure out how a building in that location was allowed to get into such a mess. Some old lady lived in the top two floors and ran a business of some kind on the main level. A shoe shop, I think it was. I thought with it being in a historic district, it would be in decent shape.”

  Brent smacked Kevin on the shoulder. “You’re going to have a three-story wedding dress shop? I didn’t know there were that many options. They’re just a bunch of white dresses.”

  Casper couldn’t help but roll his eyes. If Brent was trying to get into bed with Kevin, which he obviously was, regardless of his sudden status as Casper’s boyfriend, he’d just ruined any shot he’d had. Probably hadn’t been much of one to begin with.

  “Well, no, it won’t be a three-story wedding dress shop.” Kevin scooted infinitesimally away from Brent. “At most it could be two, one day. It could be a four-story building, but it’s divided into three. The first level has high ceilings that take up two stories. There is a second floor, but it’s a mess. And the top floor is an apartment, of sorts—gorgeous windows, but it should probably be condemned. I think I’ll have to shut off the two upper floors. It would be too expensive to redo the whole thing and fill the entire place up with inventory. But maybe one day.”

  Brent tried again. “An expensive brownstone and you’re only going to use one level? Talk about financial suicide. I think you need me to help you with business planning. I might be better at it than you.”

  The entire table gaped at Brent.

  Casper wanted to stand up and announce to the restaurant that Brent never had been nor ever would be his boyfriend.

  Monica let out an exasperated breath. “As much as I hate to ever agree with even a drop of what comes out of Brent’s mouth—”

  “Hey!”

  “Shut up, Brent. Go get us coffee or something.” The practiced sneer cutting across her face was most definitely drag queen worthy.

  The hurt that crossed Brent’s face actually made Casper feel a bit sorry for him.

  “As I was saying,” Monica addressed Kevin. “He might have a point. Maybe you could rent out the second level to another business or something.”

  Kevin considered for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t want some random store taking away from the shop. I want the brides to feel like they are in an exclusive, enchanting wedding shop.”

  Monica lifted her last forkful of chocolate cake between them. “Rent to a wedding cake baker. One-stop shop.” She popped the cake in her mouth, then motioned toward Casper, not bothering to finish chewing. “Hell, get this one to do it. This cake is fucking fantastic.”

  Casper turned toward her, trying to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

  In that one statement, Casper felt the world shift. A spike of terror flooded through him, then longing, followed by the realization of how ludicrous it would be.

  A grin began to spread over Kevin’s face. “Huh. Monica, you may be onto something. I’d not thought about that. That could be amazing. And charging rent could help me with the mortgage.” He let out a laugh, one that sounded like relief. “If you ever need a wedding dress, it will be on the house!”

  Monica grimaced. “No thank you, honey. Though I will take a free wedding cake. Seven layers.”

  Kevin grinned. “You got it.”

  Fate. People had always called him crazy to believe in fate as much as he did, but Casper didn’t care. Sure, you had to work hard. Had to work your damned ass off, but you also needed to look for fate. Too many people worked their whole lives for a drea
m and ignored signs and nudgings. Others didn’t work at all and simply waited for fate to drop a golden ticket in their lap.

  Casper Leroy James was of neither variety.

  He looked around Savor, slightly dazed and already mentally saying a surreal good-bye. When he refocused on the table, he saw Kevin watching him.

  Casper took a breath. “Actually, Monica, that’s a great idea. If that happens, I’ll make you a seven-layer wedding cake every single year.” He kept his gaze locked on Kevin’s eyes, judging the sincerity. “Are you serious? Do you think a wedding dress and cake combo is a good idea?”

  Kevin nodded slowly, seeming as dazed as Casper felt. “Yeah. I think so. I’d never thought of it before, but it could be pretty amazing.”

  Never let fate slip through your fingers. Casper pulled out his wallet and fished inside, finding what he was looking for, then holding it out to Kevin. “Here’s my business card. Think about it, and let me know. I’ll rent a floor from you. I can bake a variety for you or whatever you might need so you know the quality.”

  “Don’t you need to think about it?” Kevin looked at him like he was crazy.

  “No. Not for a minute.” A sense of excited calm settled over him. “Nope. You say the word, and I’m all in.”

  The discussion around the table gradually slid to other things, but Casper heard none of it. He was lost in his mind. Lost to images of cakes, marble counters, creating his own visions.

  He could feel it. This was it. Sooner than he’d dreamed and totally different than he’d considered. But this was it.

  CASPER