Black Hearts Dance

by Gerald Lopez

  “To say the least,” Nellie said.

  “He looks so sad sometimes,” Alex said. “Not that we should be talking about him.”

  “You’re right of course on both counts,” Nathan said. But there truly is a deep sadness in that man that almost makes me weep for him.”

  “Layton, go talk to him,” Alex said. “”We’ll be right here. Take your plate and drink with you.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said, then smiled and headed outside.

  The backyard was small but beautiful. There was a brick courtyard under a large golden raintree and there were several groupings of rose bushes. Forrest sat on a bench under the tree.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi,” Forrest said. “They sent you out to check on me, huh.”

  “Yeah… not that I mind so much.”

  “‘So much’, huh,” Forrest said.

  “It hurts like fuck still doesn’t it—the breakup?” I said. “And at the most surprising times. You feel like you’re over it, then you get sucker punched.”

  “That’s pretty much it,” Forrest said. “I kept waiting for the punchline upstairs. Waiting to hear something like—Forrest you’re hot as hell, but dumb as shit.”

  I laughed. What he said sounded familiar. “I know that feeling, remember. My lover was doing it with my nephew in my house. Hell! I even sold them the damn house for a steal. Now that’s ‘dumb as shit.’”

  “Hell yeah it is,” Forrest said, then looked at me and smiled. “It helps having you here… you get it.”

  “I do. So do those people inside the house… in their own way. Nobody was making fun of you and there was no punchline coming. Any of those guys upstairs would bed you given half a chance—and that’s no lie.”

  We laughed, then Forrest turned to me. “Would you… bed me?”

  “You’re a damn serious temptation to me, you know that.”

  “But.”

  “There’s no ‘but’ there. Alex feels the same way for what it’s worth.”

  “I um… shouldn’t have said what I did, Layton. It wasn’t right of me to ask you that question. The last man I was in a lengthy relationship with was not a good guy. So… I um—”

  “You needed to know if the good guys still found you appealing because you feel like damaged goods.

  “Nailed it,” Forrest said.

  “Yeah, you’re still pretty damn appealing in every sense of the word. Forrest, it’s hard to feel confident when you feel so badly played and like you’re the only one that didn’t now what was going on. You’re a cop and didn’t know what was going on in your home. I’m a detective and had no clue about my ex.”

  “Are you going to say it wasn’t our fault now?”

  “Fuck no,” I said. “It was our fault. We should’ve had our eyes more open or something. There were clues as big as a fucking house around me and I didn’t see them, but I’m not gonna go out and hang myself over that.”

  Forrest chuckled, then spoke. “Shit, nobody ever talks to me like that.”

  “That’s because they’re too busy trying to get in your pants, stud. And fuck you—you are the town stud.”

  We both laughed, then I continued. “Now, for a change of subject. What the hell are we doing here? Nellie showed us a painting Nathan did of a black heart with two men dancing in the center of it. He also said Nathan put him up to breaking the ice and inviting us over because he’s up to something.”

  “Nathan’s smarter than he lets on,” Forrest said. “If that painting is there it’s for a reason and Nellie was allowed to find it. They’re a good couple, believe it or not. I’m sorry you had to hear him go on about my affair with him. I guess that was a bit of a surprise to hear.”

  “Why?” I said. “Nathan’s a sexy guy.”

  “I thought so too,” Forrest said. “But what we had was truly just meant for a season.”

  “That’s OK, you know. He obviously still thinks highly of you.”

  “And I of him, though I’m not exactly sure what he’s up to or what he knows. The only certain thing about tonight is that more than portraits will be revealed.

  Chapter 37

  The Unveiling

  I PLACED my plate and glass on the bench and gave Forrest a quick hug.

  “I’m glad you and Alex moved here,” Forrest said. “Is that OK?”

  After I gave him a hard, but friendly pat on the back, I replied. “Yeah it’s alright. I’m glad we met you, bud. Let’s make a pact right now—you and I. It’s one Alex and I made earlier regarding you, so consider him part of this pact.”

  “Alright,” Forrest said.

  “No matter what happens with all this shit, let’s the three of us remain friends.” I held out my hand and Forrest shook it.

  “The two of you talked about all this, huh,” Forrest said. “That’s good. Layton, I’d never come between the two of you, I truly hope you believe that.”

  “No offense, Forrest, but we’d never let you.”

  “You and Alex talked about something else, didn’t you? Something you’re not saying.”

  “Something I’m about to say,” I said. “Shannon and I talked about things and we think the ghosts of Mr. Carson, Marcus, and Veronica are influencing you, me, and Alex.”

  “Well, we—meaning you, me, and Alex talked about our emotions being heightened supernaturally,” Forrest said. “Do you now believe we’re—how do I put it?”

  “Shannon and I think we may be acting out the emotions of the ghosts in order to find out what happened at the court. I think that we should let things play out… whatever that means—and Alex agrees. We were going to talk to you about it too because we all need to be in agreement.”

  “Are you thinking the three of us are going to end up sleeping together… or that two of us will be going at it and the third will catch us in the act?”

  “I think if Veronica caught her husband and Marcus in the act and that’s what led to the death of the twins, then—”

  “Hang on,” Forrest said. “You’ve said you don’t believe Veronica did it. But you think sex is going to come into play and you, Alex, and me are going to be acting things out.”

  “Yes,” I said. “And Alex and I just talked about all this before coming here. We weren’t holding back anything from you, I swear.”

  He put his plate down and grabbed me by my shoulders. “You think Alex and I are going to do it. In your big, bad, soldier mind you see Alex as the more passive Marcus and… hang on. Alex initiated our little sex game, so you think I’m Mr. Carson. I think you’ve got it wrong, brother. I took those punches from Alex in the gym—the guy’s strong as an ox, with an even more determined will. He’s Mr. Carson, but OK maybe I’m Marcus, which makes you Veronica.”

  “Who gives a shit who we are?” I said. “Do we let this play out or not?”

  “Who’s gonna make sure things don’t get out of hand?” Forrest said.

  “Shannon.”

  “What do you and Alex define as out of hand?” He turned and hit the bench with his fist.

  “Why are you so mad, Forrest?”

  “I don’t know,” Forrest said, raising his hand to his head, as if in pain.

  His knuckles were bleeding and I put my napkin around them, and spoke. “Forrest, I’m being open with you regarding what I know.”

  “Fuck,” Forrest said. “Fuck!”

  I looked at him and thought I saw his eyes turn from green to brown, but it must’ve been a trick of the light. When I put my hand on his shoulder, he put his hand on top of mine and grew calm.

  “What the hell just got into me, Layton? It’s like a wave of anger flowed over me from nowhere.” He shook his head, then gave me a warm smile. “I’m fine with what you and Alex decide, Layton.”

  “Remember our pact, buddy,” I said.

  Forrest gave my hand a hard shake, then spoke. “Time we went back inside.”

  The Champagne was already out on the table when we walked into the studio slash entertainment r
oom.

  “Well, it’s about time,” Nellie said. “We were beginning to wonder about you two.”

  “If it was anyone else maybe, but I wouldn’t worry about you two,” Nathan said. “Shall we start unveiling portraits.” He turned to Shannon. “My dear queen, I do hope my paintings don’t shock you too much.”

  “I have an appreciation for art, and I’m told you’re a true artist, so please go on,” Shannon said. “I’m anxious to see your work.”

  “Someone, do uncork the champagne as I unveil the first portrait,” Nathan said.

  “I’ll do it,” Nellie said.

  Nathan walked up to the first easel on the far left and removed the sheet from over the painting as Nellie uncorked the Champagne. We all clapped when we saw the painting of Forrest dressed in a barely there Greek costume, lounging against a large rock formation in a forest while cupids and Venus floated on a cloud above him.

  “I know this one’s not quite a portrait, but I couldn’t resist,” Nathan said.

  “Bravo,” Shannon said. “It’s so classical, romantic, and tranquil—in a good way. You can feel the love in the piece.” She put her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

  “I painted it when Forrest and I were at the height of our love affair, so what you said was true. I’m overjoyed to know that the love I had for Forrest is so evident.”

  “Yes, it is,” Nellie said. “Next.”

  “Oh, dearest one, don’t be jealous,” Nathan said. “I haven’t gotten to your portrait yet, my love. Pass around the champagne, my darlings must be parched. Next, is my true portrait of Forrest.”

  He lifted the sheet covering the second painting and revealed a portrait of Forrest sitting nude in a chair. He sat sideways with his arm on the back of the chair and his chin on his arm. It didn’t even matter that he was nude… nothing was really on display except for his expressive green eyes.

  “You’ve captured him,” Alex said. “This is what I strive to get with my camera—but no camera can reveal the soul of a subject like a good painter can.” He stood, walked to the painting, and crouched down to stare at the eyes. “It’s him… it’s Forrest in all his essence. Truly amazing, Nathan.” He clapped.

  “Bravo,” I said. “I’m in complete agreement.”

  “As am I,” Shannon said.

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” Nellie said. “Nathan is the best of the best and he had a great model to work with.”

  We all had a glass of champagne, except for Nathan. Nellie walked up to Nathan and handed him a glass of champagne. Nathan took it, then held Nellie’s hand to keep him at his side.

  “This next portrait was the hardest for me to complete. The subject being so multifaceted. Strong yet soft… bold yet shy. Confident and full of bravado, but inside full of doubt and vulnerability.”

  He unveiled the next portrait. It was of Nellie standing with nothing but a top hat on and a smile. At first look, one would think of the subject as bold and full of life. But when one looked closer at the face, which was the focal point, everything that Nathan had spoken of was there to be seen. The confidence and the shyness… the vulnerability and the strength. His brush had managed to pick up all the subtle nuances of Nellie’s pale skin tone, the beautiful pale blonde curls of his pubic hair glowed as did the hair on his head. It was a true masterpiece and I was in awe.

  “Layton, you haven’t said anything,” Nathan said. “Is it not to your liking?”

  It was then that I’d realized the others had commented on it while I was silent.

  “The work is so amazing I lost myself in it,” I said. “ I don’t have words to express what a masterpiece it is. You’ve managed to encapsulate all that you see in him—the emotions and feelings as well as the subtle differences in his coloring. My God, you even have the details of the pale veins in Nellie’s cock.”

  “Have you seen the veins in Nellie’s cock, Layton?” Nathan said.

  “No, but after seeing your painting, I have no doubt they’re there. The man is so completely naked in this portrait… far beyond the nakedness of his body.”

  “For someone who said he couldn’t think of the right words to describe this painting, you’ve done a superb job with your words,” Forrest said. “It’s the best thing you’ve ever done, Nate.” He turned to Nellie. “And it’s of you, Chet.”

  I watched Nathan walk to the painting Nellie had show us earlier, but Nellie spoke and my attention turned to him.

  “Please, Forrest, it’s Nellie. You know I’ve always hated the name Chet.”

  When I turned back to Nathan he was holding the painting of the black heart.

  “I created this painting when I lived in Paris,” Nathan said. “It was after a friend of mine described the heart to me when he spoke about his life here.”

  “What friend would that be, Nate?” Forrest said.

  “I’ll answer that in good time,” Nathan said, then handed the painting to me. “What do you think of it, Detective?”

  “First, I like it better when you call me Layton. Secondly, I’ve seen this black heart before. It was on the mirror in my bathroom at Carson Court.”

  “It figures it would be on your mirror,” Nathan said.

  “What’s going on here?” I said.

  “My friend in Paris asked me to come back here and check on things for him before he died. He was an old man, but a good friend, and I loved him. I knew I had to bide my time, but I also knew I’d recognize everyone when I saw them.”

  He looked around the room and a chill went up my spine.

  “I knew who you all were when Forrest entered. Of course he’d be the polarizing point. And it wasn’t hard to miss the fear, begging, and desperation behind his eyes. I used to tell him back in Paris it was getting old and slightly pathetic. I loved him, but I always told him the truth. Friends need to tell the truth to one another. Don’t be afraid Shannon, Nellie.”

  “I’ll ask again what’s this all about, Nathan?” I said, my insides shaking strangely. My left hand trembled and I covered it with my right. Something was happening inside of me.

  Chapter 38

  New Guests Arrive at the Party

  “YOU’RE NOT going to tell me what to do in my house, you bastard!” Nathan said to me. The others gasped and he turned to Alex. “Your eyes were always so full of love, but I prefer the way they looked in Paris.”

  Alex turned to me and I swear the color of his eyes changed for a brief second.

  “Shannon!” I said, realizing something supernatural was happening. The fullness of it was hitting me hard—we weren’t alone.

  “I’m here, Layton,” Shannon said.

  I could hear the nervousness in her voice, but it was still full of strength. Too bad, I thought. Wait—that wasn’t my thought. It was inside of me, but not me.

  Nathan walked my way and stared into my eyes. “You pathetic excuse for a human being. I never met you, but I wouldn’t have failed to recognize you. There you are hidden behind Layton’s blue eyes.” He walked away, headed to the last portrait and pulled the sheet off. “There you are—portrait of a father with his son!”

  Shannon gasped loudly. I walked slowly to the table, almost as if someone were leading me, as Shannon spoke. “It’s a portrait of Edmond Littrell and… is that his son Frederick? But, Frederick looks older—Nathan, you knew Frederick.”

  “I did,” Nathan said. “I knew Richard too. They had a happy life together in Paris.” He turned to Alex. “Now those are the eyes I remember. I miss you, Richard.” He turned to Forrest. “I miss you too, Frederick.”

  “Oh my God,” Shannon said. “It’s the Littrells and Richard Carson, Layton. We were wrong Layton. We were wrong!”

  “Riiich—ard,” I said. But it wasn’t me… not my voice which left my body. It was a huskier voice, fighting its way out of my throat. I tried to cough and dispel it, but I couldn’t. It was coming out again… and it hurt. “Richard, now I finish the job
I started so long ago.”

  “No, Papa, no,” the voice came from Forrest, but it sounded much younger.

  “Frederick!” the voice emanating from my body said with disgust.

  I was trapped in my own body, hearing what Edmond Littrell inside of me was saying. I needed to fight it—fight his ghost that was in me… but no… not yet. We need to learn what happened—trust Shannon I told myself, she’ll handle things. Someone yelling took me out of my thoughts and I discovered I had a sharp knife in my hand aimed at Forrest’s throat. He was quivering and crying.

  “Please, Papa, don’t do this,” the voice of Frederick coming from Forrest said.

  He sounded so meek and helpless—he would’ve been just a teenager at the time. Edmond’s feelings of disgust began to fill my body and an overpowering anger came over me. I wanted to kill my son—no! Edmond wanted to kill his son.

  Someone jumped on my back, it was Alex—no it was Richard Carson defending his… his lover. It was so clear in that instant. Frederick and Richard had been lovers. While I’d been lost in thought again, my body under the control of Edmond had pushed Alex back. I had just turned and hovered over Alex in a menacing way when Edmond spoke again using my throat.

  “I will kill you, Carson!” Edmond said. “I’ll enjoy seeing a white man hang for once.”

  “No!” Frederick’s voice said, as Forrest rushed toward me.

  I was too quick—my Marine instincts had kicked in. Unfortunately, Edmond was using my skills to his advantage. Forrest’s body was too consumed by the emotions of a distraught teenager to be able to fight back.

  “This time I will win!” Edmond’s voice said from my body. “No happy ever after for you two degenerates! The white boy will swing tonight!”

  I had Forrest against the wall and with the sharp knife in my hand it would be so easy for me to slit his throat. Time to fight or Forrest was a dead man. Focus, I said to myself. My hand with the knife shook hard as I tried to regain control of it.

  “Love, Layton,” Shannon said from behind me. “Focus on your love for Forrest and Littrell will leave.”