Every Breath You Take

by Robert Winter

  Obviously Seattle was out. He hadn’t been back there since he left to join Senator Gilbert’s staff and his parents made him feel the entire nightmare with Charles Rumson was his own fault. Well, his father had, and his mother dissuaded Thomas from returning to the family home when he really needed a place to regroup. So definitely no to Seattle.

  Italy was a thought. It had been years since he spent any time in Rome or Venice, though both places would likely suffer from the same excess of tourists he wanted to escape. Maybe a drive along the Amalfi coast? That was something he’d never done, and he recalled reading an interview with Gore Vidal about Positano or maybe Ravello—one of the towns that dotted the Tyrrhenian Sea. Vidal had written about a terrace there that he believed provided the finest view on Earth. That was a worthy goal for a vacation—to see for himself the finest view.

  As he walked in the Washington, DC spring air, Thomas daydreamed of summer in the warm Italian sun. He imagined himself in a sexy little sports car, top down, racing along winding roads that hugged the steep cliffs with a blue sea spread out below him. They’d pull into a little town for lunch, drink some wine, and maybe laugh about whether it was safe to keep driving. And if the mood was right and the town was beautiful, they’d find a little pensione or even a grand hotel and settle in to drink evening cocktails on a terrace overlooking the sea. He could picture turning languidly, setting down his drink to reach for Zachary’s hand….

  Shit.

  Thomas abruptly stopped walking, causing a young couple behind to bump into him. “I’m sorry.” He turned to apologize. They laughed it off and kept going, but Thomas didn’t move.

  I was thinking of Zachary and me on vacation in Italy.

  The idea was as stunning as it was alarming. He had been having sex regularly for at least twenty years, and he couldn’t recall a time he’d fantasized about a vacation with one of his partners. It was always about the sex, and when he’d had someone, he moved on to the next someone. Even when he was younger and occasionally agreed to see a man a few times, he never seriously had the urge to date and certainly not to take a romantic trip with anyone. Not until Zachary.

  It would never happen, he told himself. It could never happen. He was a disaster, and the proof was Charles Rumson. Zachary deserved to be with someone who could really appreciate him and take care of him—even cherish him.

  Thomas was well aware of how attracted to him Zachary was. The physical aspect was something to which Thomas was accustomed, if not inured, because men had been coming on to him since he was a teenager. But he was also certain that, for Zachary, it was more than that.

  Zachary behaved as though he saw something beyond the good looks Thomas had done nothing to earn and beyond the money he had inherited. The look in Zachary’s eyes made Thomas feel prouder, smarter, better. He wanted to live up to the ideal version of himself that Zachary seemed to see. He longed to wallow in the illusion woven by Zachary’s regard—of being wanted for himself, rather than his looks or money.

  But it was just a fantasy, of course. Zachary was sharp, quick, charming, and handsome. All too soon he’d see Thomas for the damaged piece of work he really was, and then he’d move on to kinder men who could return his desire honestly and without fear. That being the inevitable conclusion, it was better to keep the distance between them.

  Thomas walked on again, resolved to set aside whatever it was he felt for Zachary Hall. In order to protect Zachary’s innocence, he would quell his own pathetic desire to spend a summer vacation in Italy with a handsome young man who could have been painted by Botticelli.

  Chapter 10

  WHATEVER FLEETING dreams or fantasies Zachary created for himself after they spent Sunday at the museum he forced away when another Sunday arrived and he heard nothing further from either Thomas or Randy. He made up his mind to take Joe’s advice. He would set aside thoughts of Thomas and focus on the new life he was building in Washington.

  Not that it was a hardship. He liked his job at Treasury, he threw himself into helping Joe at Rainbow Space, and the Gay Men’s Chorus turned out to be a wonderful pastime. Not only was it filled with men who enjoyed music and singing like he did, but with joking and silliness amid the serious work of learning the music, the rehearsals passed quickly.

  Zachary found it to be a riot, and he told Howard so at the end of his second rehearsal. “I’m so glad you got me to audition,” Zachary said. “This is tons of fun, and it’s a great way to meet people.”

  Howard giggled delightedly. “I said you’d be front-row material,” he exclaimed. “That’s where the conductor puts all the best-looking guys for performances. The other second tenors who stand up front are already angling to get you next to them during concerts.” Howard paused and then asked, “Would you like to have dinner one night? I mean, umm… go out on a date with me? If you aren’t seeing anyone else, that is?”

  Although he was slightly surprised, Zachary accepted, and three nights later, they met on P Street for Mexican food. Howard indicated he had parked his car in the lot by Mata Hari, which made Zachary nervous they would end up there after dinner. Sure enough, after two margaritas each, Howard insisted what they needed to cap the evening was to sing at the piano with Miss Ethel. Thus, despite his intention to stay far away from Thomas until he developed a thicker skin, Zachary found himself walking into Mata Hari again.

  The bar was fairly crowded that evening, and people stood two deep around the piano and sang along to the score of Cabaret. Howard immediately began to chat with several people they both knew from the Gay Men’s Chorus and made a point of announcing that he was there with Zachary on a date. Zachary resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the immediate teasing they received and said into Howard’s ear that he’d get them some drinks from the bar.

  Randy and his assistant bartender were both busy, but Joe spotted Zachary as he approached and threw out his arms. “Darling boy,” he cried out. “There you are. Now the evening is perfect.” Terry stood behind Joe, one elbow resting on the bar, though Zachary thought his face looked tight and slightly worried.

  The man to Terry’s left had his back to them as he talked to a handsome young man, but Zachary knew exactly who it was.

  Shit, shit, shit. Why did I come in here?

  Joe gave him a warm hug, which Zachary returned with a kiss on his cheek. “Hi, Joe, I’m glad to see you. Did Ty like the DVD I left?” He hugged Terry as well and resisted the urge to say something pointed at Thomas’s back. Nevertheless, Thomas turned, and Zachary would have sworn he saw a spark of something warm in his eye before Thomas schooled his face to neutrality.

  “Zachary, hi. How are you doing?” Thomas asked, slightly aloof. Zachary flicked a glance at the young man who had a hand on Thomas’s shoulder, and his stomach sank.

  Fine. If that’s how you want to play it, you got it.

  “Oh, Thomas, good to see you again,” he drawled, feigning nonchalance. He stuck his hand out toward the man with Thomas and debated warning him not to expect too much. “I’m Zachary.”

  “Marcus,” the man said, shaking Zachary’s hand limply.

  Randy freed up, and when he met Zachary’s eye, he called out, “Seven and seven?”

  Zachary nodded and added, “Also a gin and tonic for my date.” Catty, he knew, but it was the margaritas talking. “Joe, Terry, can I get you anything?” He pointedly did not offer to buy Thomas and this Marcus a drink, though he saw Thomas flash a glance at Howard by the piano.

  Joe glanced back and forth between Thomas and Zachary, but said, “Well, why not? Randall, this lovely gentleman insists upon another cocktail for us.”

  Randy nodded. “Vodka rocks, Johnny Walker coming up with your G and T.”

  Terry asked about his job and his date with Walter while Randy made the drinks. “I hope the two of you got up to some trouble at least,” Terry said. “I have a feeling you need help to get a little wild.”

  Zachary flushed as he recalled how wild he had gotten with Thomas, th
ough of course he didn’t share that information with Terry. Instead he laughed a bit and said, “Well, even if that’s true, Walter and I didn’t really click. We had dinner, but he seemed kind of nervous and distracted all evening. I got the feeling he wanted to be somewhere else, so we just shook hands after dinner and called it a night.”

  Joe exclaimed his disappointment. “I had such hopes for the two of you. Ah well, you’re in Mother Joe’s hands. I’ll have you married off by summer.”

  Terry shook his head. “Now you’re in for it, Zachary. Maybe you should try again with Walter. He was really adorable, I thought.” Zachary saw Joe’s eye twitch at that remark, but Randy arrived with their drinks before he could comment further.

  Zachary excused himself with Howard’s gin and tonic. As he returned to the piano, Howard—clearly feeling the effects of his earlier booze—gave him a big kiss on the cheek. Zachary childishly hoped Thomas saw it. Not that he was going to sleep with Howard or anything. It was just their first date. In fact, he’d had three first dates already since joining the Chorus, plus the unfortunately boring one with Walter. He was trying, in spite of himself, to be the kid in the candy store that Thomas had urged and Joe seconded in his inimitable way.

  But he only took that recommendation so far. Whether it was because he learned his lesson with Thomas or simply because he didn’t feel the same powerful attraction again, none of his dates ended with more than a kiss. That was plenty for the moment. He’d let himself go with the right man if one came along.

  Howard surprised him by asking, “How do you know those people?” His gaze was on Joe, Terry, and Thomas. Zachary felt himself blush.

  “I met them when I first came in here, and now I do volunteer work with Joe. He’s the one with white hair.”

  Howard nodded and sipped at his drink. “What about Thomas?”

  Zachary frowned in astonishment as the pieces clicked into place. “Oh.” Of course. Thomas had slept with Howard. He looked around the bar, vaguely nauseated as he wondered how many other men there had been with Thomas.

  “You too, huh?” Howard asked. An edge appeared in his voice as he said, “Well, I hope you know not to get your hopes up. You probably got the same speech as the rest of us, about no sleepovers and no dating or repeats.”

  Zachary thought he saw a glint of jealousy in Howard’s eyes, so he decided it was better not to mention that he actually had slept over and even gone on a sort-of date. He gave a noncommittal response and then he and Howard agreed silently to drop the subject of Thomas Scarborough. They both turned to face the piano and sang several songs with the crowd.

  Soon he felt a definite buzz from all the alcohol he had consumed. So did Howard, apparently, as he kept touching him, patting his back, and trying to hold his hand. Across the piano Zachary could see the patrons at the bar, and he was particularly aware that Thomas still talked with Marcus. Well, at least they hadn’t left yet. That was going to be painful to watch.

  Thomas would put a hand on Marcus’s back and guide him out of the bar and into a cab that would take them to Thomas’s apartment….

  “Hey,” Howard said into his ear. Then he darted out his tongue to lick Zachary’s neck.

  Zachary jumped, pulled away, and tried to cover it with a laugh. “Sorry. Ticklish.”

  “Mmm. Maybe I can find some more ticklish spots later,” Howard slurred.

  Umm, no.

  “Miss Ethel, can you play some more Nina Simone?” Zachary requested.

  She winked at him. “Course I can, hon. How ’bout ‘I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl’?”

  When the song ended, Zachary made another request, then another. A waiter brought them another round. At the bar Thomas had his back to them, but Marcus scanned the crowd as though he no longer had grabbed on to a sure thing.

  A bit dazed from the number of drinks he had already consumed, Zachary spun his phone a bit and then, when Thomas turned his head in profile to say something to Randy, he took a quick picture.

  “Wha’ was that for?” Howard slurred as he looked at Zachary with suspicion.

  “Nothing. Just me being stupid,” Zachary told him. A hard glint appeared in Howard’s eyes.

  Eventually Joe wandered over to say good night, very much in his cups as he hugged Zachary effusively and promised they’d have him over for dinner one night soon. Miss Ethel continued to play as the bar emptied a bit. Howard whispered again about getting out of there, but Zachary shook his head and said, “I think I’m fine here.”

  Howard stood up straight and blinked at him for a minute. The dazed look he had been showing was replaced with something sharp as he glanced over at Thomas’s back and then at Zachary’s face. Through the alcohol it seemed to Zachary that Howard had added up the score and realized it left him out.

  “Suit yourself, but don’t be surprised when he cuts you down if you try to get him away from that guy,” Howard said. He pulled himself together and added, a bit tightly, “I guess I’ll see you at rehearsal.” He left without another word.

  Later Zachary leaned on the piano, too many cocktails inside him, alone. His chest ached, but that might have been the liquor. Miss Ethel said quietly, “This is my last set, sugar. You gonna be okay?”

  He tried to smile at her. “I’m fine. I swear. Just a wee bit too much to drink tonight. You play like an angel, Miss Ethel.” He slipped a twenty into her glass bowl, and she nodded her thanks. Looking around, Zachary realized the place was nearly empty and Randy stood alone behind the bar, drying some glasses.

  “I guess Marcus was the lucky boy of the night after all,” he muttered to himself. Then he winced and shook his head. Pain washed through him. He imagined Thomas wrapping his arms around the good-looking Marcus, stroking him off, maybe more. Unexpectedly dark emotions wove through his heart. He was jealous of a stranger getting to touch Thomas’s handsome face and hold his strong body. He was furious at Thomas for denying the simple truth that was right in front of him—he wanted Zachary as much as Zachary wanted him. There was something between them, something more than the physical attraction. At the brunch and at the museum, they had shared regard, respect….

  He was such a fucking idiot. He pulled on his jacket, wrapped a scarf around his neck, and stepped out into the night.

  The parking lot was nearly empty, and sodium lights reflected off the windows of the four or five cars that remained. He could hear club music still pulsing from Pyramid next door, and the boom-boom-boom sounded like a beating heart. He stood for a moment in the doorway of Mata Hari and tried to focus on the best place to find a cab. A chill breeze blew across the lot and caused an empty beer bottle to roll over the gravel. He shivered.

  After another moment he started to walk toward P Street. The alcohol in his body made him less than steady on his feet, and he had to concentrate as he walked—left, right, left, right. Somewhere off to his side, he registered the sound of a car door opening.

  “Zachary.”

  He stopped at the sound of a baritone voice and slowly turned around. Thomas jogged across the parking lot toward him and pulled on a parka as he approached. Zachary heard a car door slam closed and an engine start up. He stood there, confused, until Thomas reached him.

  “Zachary, you shouldn’t be out here alone. Didn’t you hear about the murder?” Thomas asked.

  Zachary ignored the frisson that ran down his back. All he could think to say was “I thought you’d left with Marcus.”

  Thomas had the grace to look embarrassed. “I was going to, but I decided I wasn’t in the mood.”

  “Oh.” Zachary didn’t know what else to say, so he just stared at Thomas. He moved his gaze over Thomas’s handsome face, his well-shaped mouth, his concerned blue eyes. A lock of wavy hair had fallen forward over his brow, and without thinking, Zachary reached out and pushed it back into place.

  “Sorry,” he muttered as he dropped his hand and looked at the ground.

  “Where’s your date?” Thomas asked.

  Zachary
sighed. “That was a mistake. As was the fourth drink. As was coming to Mata Hari tonight.”

  Thomas looked at him and then said abruptly, “I’m glad you didn’t leave with that guy. You can do better.”

  “I understand you would know.” When Thomas looked down and away, Zachary chuckled, but without humor. “Anyway, someone told me to try all the candy in the store. That means I have to expect to get the occasional piece of licorice.”

  Thomas glanced at him from under his eyebrows. “You don’t like licorice?” He gave Zachary the slightest smirk, and he had no business looking so handsome doing it.

  Zachary turned and began to walk toward P Street again. As Thomas fell into step with him, Zachary looked at him sideways. “I’m fine, Thomas. Don’t put yourself out.”

  “I told you I’d like to be friends. This is what friends do. They watch out for each other.” They walked in silence a bit, and their footsteps rasped on the macadam until Zachary came to a stop on P Street and looked around for a cab.

  He was unable to face Thomas as he said, “I’m not sure I’m strong enough to be your friend.” He risked a glance and saw something sad in Thomas’s eyes. “I get that it was just one night. I get that you have issues, and who doesn’t? The thing is I felt like it could have been more. But obviously I was wrong.”

  A cab pulled up to the curb, and Zachary opened the door.

  As he started to climb in, his better manners possessed him, and he said, “You need a taxi too, right? We could share this one.” Thomas stared intently at him, his hands in his pockets and his breath steaming in the air. He seemed to be struggling with something, so Zachary shrugged and got into the cab. “Take care of yourself, Thomas,” he said as he began to close the door. He was startled when it was pulled open and Thomas slid into the cab next to him and called out his address to the driver.

  They rode in silence through the quiet streets until Thomas turned to Zachary and took his hand. “Would you come home with me tonight, Zach? I can’t give you more than this, but even friends can sometimes make each other feel good.”