by Eli Easton
“Right you are.” Harrison clapped his hands together. “How about we have our session, and afterward we can walk down to Ivar’s. I’d love to buy you lunch, and we can soak in this rare gorgeous day.”
It was Tuesday, and River didn’t have anything else pressing. But he did want to work on some ideas for the cafe before he met with Brent tomorrow. And, of course, he had Lily and Beauchamp duty. “Sorry. I have to work this afternoon.”
“Posh! It’s only eleven. Let’s do the session now, and that will still give us time to walk down there, have lunch, and be back by two. You’ll have the rest of the afternoon for your work.” Harrison’s expression turned sad. “It’s just that, at my age, I worry about walking by myself. And I do so miss going out for lunch.”
Well, damn. River gave an internal sigh. “All right. But let’s get started on our session. Okay?”
“Brilliant!” Harrison smiled.
River set up his futon, oil-warming pot, and pile of small towels. He removed his T-shirt. They began on the couch as usual, with tantric breath and eye-gazing. Harrison had never gotten any better at this and had a hard time meeting River’s gaze. Instead, he looked at River’s chest or out the window. But he clung to River’s hands and relaxed under the heavy breathing.
They started the massage with Harrison on his stomach on the futon. In the five weeks they’d been working together, Harrison had never gotten an erection. He’d mentioned Viagra, but River suspected Harrison loved his wine more than he wanted to use Viagra, the two of which did not mix. Though he knew Viagra didn’t cure all cases of erectile dysfunction either.
Harrison didn’t seem worried about it. My boy, just having your hands on me is a thrill. He said he felt better than he had in years. It did seem like the reiki work was helping the old man’s chakra energy flow. And his loneliness too.
When River finished his healing work on the chakras along Harrison’s spine, he had him turn over so he could massage his front side. The towel, as usual, was not tented. River positioned himself at the side of the futon and, breathing deeply, stroked up Harrison’s legs, focusing on sending out healing energy.
Harrison watched him, eyes narrowly open. “Will you remove your shorts?”
River paused for a moment, then continued the massage. “No. I never take off my shorts with clients.”
Harrison pouted. “But it might help me if I could see your cock. Visual stimulation. Hmm? Please?” He put a hand on River’s thigh. “I’d be happy to pay extra.”
“No.” River removed Harrison’s hand from his thigh and put it at his side. “Do you want me to stop? We can be done for the day.”
Harrison’s nostrils flared. “No. No. Please continue. It was just a suggestion.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed on the futon.
River continued. He was a little amused—Harrison was persistent—and a touch annoyed too. He’d made his boundaries clear. But there was no point in holding on to anger or resentment. He felt compassion for the old man, and that was what he should focus on.
After the massage, Harrison sat right up, more eager than relaxed. River helped him to his feet. “Just give me a moment. I’ll get changed for lunch.” He rushed off.
River almost said he wouldn’t go, but Harrison didn’t give him a chance. Plus he’d already said he would do it. He packed up his things, washed his hands, and put on his T-shirt.
Having lunch with a client was crossing the line. But hell, they’d already spent as much time talking as in their tantric sessions. Harrison was very good at blurring lines. And it wouldn’t hurt River to help an old man make an excursion out for once. He should be honored.
Harrison came out wearing all black—black trousers and a black silk shirt. He added a flamboyant floral silk scarf around his neck and a long black coat.
Outside, it truly was a lovely afternoon in late May—sunny, around 65 degrees, with a slight breeze. Boats of all kinds were out on the water, and the sidewalk was crowded with tourists and locals. They walked past the aquarium, which looked packed.
Harrison was unsteady on his feet. River held his hand securely, and they moved at a leisurely pace.
“You said your current house-sitting position is up September tenth?”
“Yup.” That reminded River that he needed to check the house-sitting website again. He’d been ignoring the problem lately, with all the excitement around the new cafe.
But by September, he would have been here an entire year. Seattle was great, and he would miss it. But plenty of other places were great too. The new cafe would be open by then, Brent said. It would be perfect timing to move on. Find a new situation. New horizons.
Someone else’s life.
Then why did the idea make him sad?
“I’m waiting for inspiration to strike,” River said. “It’ll happen. The path will appear.”
Harrison looked delighted. “Well, call me Mr. Inspiration, because I have the perfect solution for you. What would you think of house-sitting at an adorable little apartment near Saint Peter’s and Piazza Navona in Rome, hmm? Rome, after all, is the Eternal City. And if you haven’t been there, you haven’t lived, my boy!”
Harrison was so exuberant, it made River smile. “Sounds intriguing. How did you hear about this place?”
“Let’s just say I know the owner.” Harrison’s eyes twinkled.
“Hmm. How long would it be for?”
“Up to a year if you like. If one goes in September, one really must stay through the fall. And the holidays! You’ve never had a Christmas until you’ve seen the Vatican in all its seasonal glory. And then, if you’re there after the New Year, it’s imperative to remain through spring. Spring in Rome is incomparable. Simply incomparable!”
They reached Ivar’s seafood restaurant and the conversation was dropped until they were seated. There was nothing on the patio, which was probably for the best. Harrison would get chilled, despite the nice day. They got a table near the window.
Harrison immediately ordered a glass of wine. As long as he stuck to just one, he probably would be fine to walk back. River hoped.
“So how do you know about this apartment in Rome that needs a house sitter?” River asked again, after the waiter had taken their order.
Harrison leaned forward and smiled. “Because, dear boy, I own it.”
“You own an apartment in Rome?”
“I do! I bought it in 2008 when the Italian market crashed. Rescued a dear friend of mine who was positively drowning. It only has one bedroom, but it’s on the Via Ezio. A gold mine on Airbnb, trust me. I used to spend a month there every year, but I haven’t been since 2016 because the trip has gotten to be too much for me.” He spoke with great pathos, his eyes damp. “With your help, darling boy, I could visit my beloved Roma one more time before I leave this mortal coil. Christmas in Rome. Imagine it!”
“That sounds wonderful. But… what would the financial arrangement be?”
Harrison’s eyelids fluttered. “I wouldn’t charge you a thing. You’ll be helping me out by being my companion. As I said, the trip is too much for me to do on my own. Say yes. Hmm? This is your path, my boy. Embrace it.”
River took a sip of iced tea and watched a ferry make its way toward Bainbridge Island.
Was this the open door he’d been waiting for? Maybe it was. He could look into what he could do while in Rome. Maybe he’d find something like Expanded Horizons or an upscale massage house he could work at. An alternative medicine practice. Hell, even being a barista or waiter in Rome for a few months sounded amazing.
It was the kind of life experience his mother would adore. Be a dandelion puff, floating wherever the wind takes you.
Harrison was offering a significant gust of wind.
But if he accepted, what would the old man expect in return? Companion? River had no qualms with helping Harrison travel, being his friend. He didn’t want to be more than that. Moving into his Rome apartment would definitely smash the surrogate-client
relationship to smithereens.
“You say it has one bedroom. How would that work?” he asked neutrally.
A flicker of something like annoyance crossed Harrison’s face, but he hid it behind a genial look. “There’s a large bed. These old bones don’t take up much room. But the couch also makes into a bed, if one positively must have one’s own space. The place is advertised for four people, so I’m sure we could limp along.”
His slightly chiding tone made River feel like an ingrate. “It’s sweet of you to offer. Sounds amazing. I need to give it some thought, check into a few things. Can I get back to you about it?”
“Of course! I’d hardly expect anything less. But do let me know soon, hmm? The place will start booking up for the fall and I hate to cancel too many reservations. If we’re going to stay there, I should take it off the market.”
“I’ll let you know in the next few weeks.”
“Perfect, dear boy. Perfect.” Harrison’s smile was brighter than the day outside.
Chapter 14
June, 2019
River
They spent two weeks working at Brent’s house. They outlined the first eight kombucha brews—complete with funky names. Brent talked to a health inspector and looked at the logistics of producing large quantities of kombucha. River researched vegan restaurants around the world and checked out popular foodie blogs. He spent a half day on sauerkraut recipes alone. You could easily have as many types of sauerkraut as kombucha, but he picked two of the most appealing to try. He found a TV series about a guy who went around the world finding the best street food, and he and Brent binge-watched it on a Saturday afternoon.
On the second Sunday, they worked for only an hour at the dining room table before Brent pushed back his chair.
“Hey, want to take a drive? I’ve been starting to think about the décor ideas, I need some inspiration. There’s an Indonesian place on Mercer Street and a World Market on the waterfront.”
“Are we ready for that?” River asked, surprised.
Brent shrugged. “I’m a very visual thinker. I like to shop for ideas.”
“Okay. Sure.”
They took Brent’s car, which was an old olive-green Range Rover, funky and sporty.
“I pictured you in something like this year’s Lexus,” River commented after buckling his seat belt.
Brent mocked horror and put a hand to his heart. “You wound me.”
River laughed. “Sorry. Guess that was judgmental.”
“I love this beast. Had it for ten years and wouldn’t part with it. Certainly not for a Lexus.”
Loyal, River thought again. Brent stuck with things. It was something River admired, even if it was far from his personal experience—or temperament.
“Kathy and I were never big spenders,” Brent continued as he drove, his voice a little strained. “We put everything we made back into buying more stores or fixing up houses. She used to joke that we were playing real-life Monopoly. The house I live in now was one we bought to flip. But after we fixed it up, Kathy got sick, and I just haven’t dealt with selling it.”
River wasn’t sure he hundred-percent bought that. The furnishings were pretty damn nice. But then, if you bought a house to fix it up and flip it, maybe having decent furniture was part of the investment for when you had to show it. Anyway, it wasn’t any of River’s business.
It was interesting, though, that Brent made excuses for his wealth. Most rich people bragged about their money, didn’t they?
The Indonesian furniture store was a bust. They had lots of imported teak dining tables and chairs, very stuffy and formal. It reminded River of what the Kardashians would own if they lived in India. Not his style at all and not right for the cafe. It was also outrageously expensive.
After giving up on that place, they parked near the Space Needle and walked six blocks to the World Market store. It had goods from all over. Some items River really liked. But they were budget home goods, not things that would hold up to heavy restaurant traffic. Brent and River looked at some ceramic plates and glasses and colorful linens, but neither of them were inspired by the selection.
“We usually buy furniture for the shops from restaurant wholesalers,” Brent commented, spreading out a woven placemat that looked like it wouldn’t last a month. “But I’m not sure what I’m looking for. I like the global theme, but I’m having a hard time visualizing it.”
“Afraid I’m gonna be zero help to you there,” River grimaced. “Decorating is not my thing, and I honestly don’t pay attention to furniture and interior design and such. When I travel, I’m more focused on the landscape, nature, the exterior of buildings, the people…” He smiled. “I love temples and churches, so I pay attention to those interiors, but I don’t think that’s the look you’re going for.”
“Yeah, probably not.”
They left the World Market and strolled along the waterfront. The June day was cool and overcast, but it was still beautiful. Beyond the waters of Puget Sound, to the south, the white cap of Mount Rainier floated like a mirage.
“The trouble,” Brent mused as they walked, “is that I’ve hardly ever left the country. I went to Germany once, and that’s it. So I just don’t have the juice in my subconscious to feed my creative mind. Not about the décor anyway. It’s like I try to pull up ideas and I’m just… I’ve got nothin’.”
“Hmm. Maybe you should remedy that. Go on an inspiration pilgrimage,” River suggested lightly.
Brent stopped walking and stared at him, eyes wide.
River laughed. “What? You have that ‘I just had an epiphany’ look.”
“You know my looks?” Brent asked in surprise.
River felt his cheeks heat, as if he’d been caught out. “I just mean you looked like you had an idea.”
“It’s, um… nothing.” Brent started walking again. “I just thought of something I should look into. But I need to, uh, look into it. First. Hey, there’s a great Thai place a few blocks down. I’m starving. Want to grab lunch?”
“I could eat.”
“Then maybe we could hit Elliot Bay Books on the way back over the hill. See if we can find some design books.”
“Sure.”
There was no doubt who was the yang on this project. Brent’s energy was all forward-drive. And, for now, River was content being his yin.
Part III: THE SOURCE
“Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.”– Buddha
Chapter 15
Brent
“You’re what?” Sean stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it. “‘Squeeze me?”
Brent rolled his eyes and picked up his glass of IPA from the bar, took a sip. “You heard me.”
“You’re taking a trip to India. With your tantra guy. The guy who did the lingam—”
Brent stuck his free hand over Sean’s mouth. The bartender gave them a knowing smirk. “Shut up, Sean. Ever heard of the word discretion?”
Sean waggled his eyebrows as Brent removed his hand. “Discretion, got it. I won’t say anything about the guy who did that thing, that kinda kinky thing, involving a beloved part of your anatomy, and how you’ve got him working for you now, and how you’re going to India with him, just the two of you. And this is, for sure, just a business deal. Got it. So when can Sharon and I meet him?”
Brent had to laugh. He shook his head and ate a french fry.
They were at Hopvine Pub on Capitol Hill on a Friday evening, and Brent was in too good a mood to be pissy with Sean. Even though Sean deserved it.
“It is just business. I’m opening up a travel-themed kombucha bar and café, and I’ve hardly been anywhere. It’s absurd. Plus, there’s a kombucha bar in Mumbai I need to check out. And loads of great vegan and vegetarian options. It’s legitimate research. And it’s tax deductible.”
“Hmmm.” Sean’s expression wouldn’t have been amiss on an FBI agent questionin
g a lying suspect. “Still. Taking this guy with you?”
“For fuck’s sake, Sean, his name is not this guy or that guy or the tantric guy. It’s River. And yes, I’m taking him with me. He knows Mumbai. He knows where to go and how to get around. Plus, he’s part of the project. The whole thing was his idea. More or less.”
They focused on their salmon burgers for a while. Sean looked thoughtful. “Seriously, dude. I know I ride your ass, but I’m…” Sean blew out a breath. “I’m happy for ya. And intrigued. And confused? Yeah, a bit confused. But hey, it’s all good.”
“Sean—”
“So what’s this River guy look like? I was serious when I said Sharon and I want to meet him. I’m having a hard time picturing it. Him. You and him. Doing that.”
Brent shook his head. Sean was relentless. “I told you, I’m not romantically involved with him. There’s no reason for you to meet anyone. Or picture us doing that.”
Sean stared at him and stuck out his lower lip. Puppy-dog eyes were employed. “What’s his last name? Can I at least google him? Since you won’t describe him to me, your best friend in the entire world.”
Brent knew he was making a mistake, but he couldn’t help himself. He kinda wanted to see what Sean thought of River. So he picked his phone off the bar and scrolled to a photo.
He’d taken it on the waterfront the day they’d looked at furniture. River had just turned and smiled at the camera. Wisps of blond hair floated around his face, and his eyes were warm and alive. The photo was from the waist up, and his strong shoulders and arms were evident in his T-shirt. His face had that beautiful, positive light that Brent loved. He was such a pleasure to be around. He somehow made Brent feel more positive too. After years of depression, the feeling was addictive.
Brent had looked at this photo far too many times.
He handed the phone to Sean with a nervous flutter. Sean’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. Wow. Kinda hunky, I guess? So this does it for ya, huh?”