The audience fidgeted. Seats groaned audibly. A low murmur of voices rose in volume, and Nigel knew if he lost control, word would go out from every cell phone in the building that the concert was a notorious failure and he’d lose the one thing he’d always been able to count on—his bond with the audience that had followed him for half his life.
He spoke again, into the microphone, louder, so he could be heard over the crowd. “I’ll tell you about it, shall I? Right now, my”—Nigel’s fingers danced lightly over the high notes while he swallowed hard—“my best friend’s baby is in the hospital fighting for his life.”
A hush fell, and his bandmates openly gaped at him.
“I don’t think I realized, when I wrote the song ‘Light a Candle,’ what it would eventually mean to me. At the time I only wanted a ballad—a hymn of sorts à la Sir Elton—that I could use for a lovely lavish encore.”
Nigel caressed the few chords, one after another, that made up his song. They were so simple he wanted to blush.
“Candle’s a bog-standard tune, full of shameless sentiment and obvious rhymes like spark and dark. I don’t know why…I’ve never known why people still want me to sing it.”
Nigel played with the chords, breaking them up, playing the melody, then giving the notes a baroque flair, changing to a minor key, then back at will, all the while playing the uncomplicated tune, letting it flow through him like water, like tears, when he wasn’t able to let his own tears fall.
“Except now, maybe I do understand that song, or maybe I was wiser than I realized when I wrote it. I didn’t understand family until I created my own.” He played some chords that were dissonant at first, then brought them into harmony by changing a single note here and there. “Until I pulled each and every one of the people I love to me through sheer force of will.”
A dramatic chord. “This is for my manager, Deidre, her wife, Katje, and their son, Hazard, the most magnificent child ever born.”
Nigel balled his fist over his heart, touching Jeff’s dog tags before he continued with another, softer chord. “This is for Jeff, the love of my life. It’s for Colleen, Jeff and Deidre’s mother. It’s for my mother and Aunt Irene who taught me to love music, and for every one of you, who have followed me all these years. The best fucking audience in the world.” A cheer rose at that, and phones and lighters started flickering over the swelling, roiling sea of people in the darkness.
“This is for the years I lost wondering who I am, when I should have known all along.” Nigel swallowed thickly and nodded to Ken, who signaled the band to begin again. “This is for who I am now.
“I am everything you’ve made me. I am everything you’ve given me. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Please sing it with me…
“It’s December. A bitter wind is blowing cold…”
Nigel began the song, but the audience drowned him out. His throat tightened so much he was simply unable to go on, but the audience filled the space around him with music.
He played with them, and when they faltered, he urged them on until they rose to their feet, swaying and holding up a thousand flickering lights like an offering to a god. Finally he stood and pressed his hands together over his heart and bowed, demonstrating his gratitude and acknowledging their gift to him.
The magic of that moment drew out, the singing grew louder, and his heart expanded to take it all in. This was all for him—an amazing, astonishing outpouring of compassion, of admiration, of love.
Love is everything.
Love is the only thing.
At last, for Nigel Gasp and Nigel Hazard—for all the Nigels—it was enough.
When the applause began to die down, Nigel folded into another deep bow, and then he walked off the stage.
The crew, the roadies and assistants and caterers all lined up on either side of the hall to congratulate him as he passed. Some shook his hand, some patted him on the back. Some simply stood and applauded in a show of solidarity and kindness that squeezed Nigel’s chest so painfully his eyes burned.
An outpouring of love like that was so entirely outside his experience, it terrified him. It was too much—too grand. It humbled him until he wanted to cry.
Nigel broke into a run, heading for his dressing room and the privacy it offered, but when he got there, Jeff stood in front of the door, holding his arms out wide, an expression of such tenderness on his face, Nigel’s step faltered. After only a second of hesitation, Nigel threw himself at Jeff so hard they overbalanced and fell into the door with a massive thud. Nigel scrambled to wrap his arms and legs around Jeff and pressed his damp face into Jeff’s neck.
Jeff smelled of rain and pleasure and home. Nigel gave in to the temptation to take a luscious bite of the muscle at the top of Jeff’s shoulder. He tasted as good as he looked. Nigel marked him, humming as he did it, and Jeff squirmed, but let him have his way. Nigel took fierce possession of Jeff’s entire body—he gripped and clung and kissed his way up Jeff’s neck to his lips where the faint flavors of salt and mint and surrender mingled with each panting breath.
The way Jeff kissed him back spoke of desperation and desire and infinite tenderness.
“I'm here,” Jeff whispered. “I love you, Nigel.”
“Jeff.”
“And I guess I could do worse than to make looking after you my new career.”
“Jeff. Jeff. You beautiful bastard.” Nigel had to clear his throat to speak. “Christ, Jeff. I’m so bloody glad you’re here.”
“I’ve got you, Nigel. I’m here.” Jeff gathered him into his arms and held on tight. “I’ll always be here for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“There she is.” Jeff pointed to where his mother sat in the waiting room.
“Any news?” Nigel greeted her with a hug.
Colleen returned Nigel’s hug and reached out for Jeff to include him in it. “Great news. Hazard was able to nurse, so now he’s resting comfortably again. He’s responding to the breathing treatments and antibiotics. It looks like the worst is over.”
Jeff felt Nigel’s body relax subtly. “And Deidre and Katje?”
“Deidre and Katje are exhausted, but they’ve gone to get some coffee. General visiting hours have been over for a while and I’m done in, so I was planning to call you or catch a cab. They gave me a key to the motor home.”
“I’m sure we can get you a room in the hotel,” Nigel offered.
“I’m equally sure Dee and Katje left a mountain of laundry and dishes undone, and I can be useful there. It will be nice for them to have that all taken care of when they bring Hazard home.”
“He’s really going to be all right then?” Nigel asked. Worry still cast shadows beneath his eyes.
“They said he was out of the woods.”
Nigel’s eyes closed as he sighed with relief. “Brilliant.”
“So—”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing for us to do but go back and—”
“Mom.” Jeff eyed Nigel, who looked like he was going to fall down. He started to open his mouth to explain that it wouldn’t kill anyone to let Nigel see Hazard, but Nigel held his hand up.
“Leave it alone, Jeff.”
“But don’t you want to see him for yourself?” Jeff asked.
“I’m sorry, Nigel. Even if you did want to see him, it’s too late tonight. Only immediate family is allowed.” Colleen gestured vaguely behind her, as though they should see something there. “But he’s in good hands, I promise. I’ll bet we’ll all be able to see him for a little bit first thing in the morning.”
“That’s fine.” Nigel gave Jeff’s hand a firm squeeze as he turned back toward the elevator. “Colleen can ride back with me if she likes.”
Jeff took his mother’s suitcase from her. “I’ve got a rental here. I’ll take her. You go back to the hotel, and if you’re asleep when I get back, I won’t hold it against you.”
After they got back into the elevator, Jeff put his arm around Nigel’s shoulders.
“As long as Hazard’s okay, it’s fine.” Nigel leaned heavily against Jeff’s side. “I’m knackered. I could sleep for a thousand years. Usually I’m energized after a concert but after this one…”
“What’s your schedule tomorrow?” Jeff asked.
“Tomorrow was to be a travel day, but we might have had to cancel it because of the storm.”
“No one’s going anywhere now, honey.” Colleen put her arm around Nigel from the other side. “Not until Hazard is back in fighting shape.”
The elevator stopped at the ground floor, and the three of them got out. “I’ll go outside and call Amil for the car. No doubt he’s only just found a spot, and he’ll get after me about being bothered to park it in the first place.”
“I had mine parked by the valet but they’re gone, so I’ll have to call security to get the key and location before I can take Mom home. I’ll see you when I get there?”
“All right.” Nigel lifted his face for a kiss. When Jeff obliged him, he closed his eyes and offered a tired smile. “See you soon?”
“See you soon.” Jeff brushed his thumb over Nigel’s lip.
Nigel turned to Colleen. “Are you sure you don’t want Amil to take you to the Mother Ship?”
“No, thank you. I’ll go with Jeff. You go on ahead.”
Nigel turned to wave before stepping outside, and Jeff’s heart broke for him. He looked alone and a little bit lost. Jeff led his mother toward reception, where he asked someone to call security.
“I wish Nigel could have seen Hazard. It would have made him feel better.”
Colleen nodded. “Tomorrow. We’ll all get our chance.”
* * *
NIGEL DIALED AMIL’S number just as soon as he was out of sight of Jeff and Colleen. “Did you bring what I need?”
“Yes. I have everything here. I’m waiting where I said I’d be.”
“I’ll find you,” Nigel told him.
“Are you certain about this?” Amil asked. “It seems unlikely to succeed, sir.”
“That’s true enough, but then I asked myself, what would Nigel Gasp do?”
Amil groaned. “Can’t you ever ask yourself what Jesus or Eleanor Roosevelt or some other person with common sense would do?”
“Boring. I’ll see you in a bit.” Nigel ended the call and hurried to their rendezvous spot. If Colleen had decided to accompany him to the hotel, it would have been difficult but not impossible. Nigel wasn’t going to spill Deidre’s secret, not without her permission. And he didn’t feel like a father—all he’d done was come in a paper cup. But that didn’t mean it didn’t kill him to wait for news.
His heart…oh Christ, his heart hurt. The only thing on his mind all day was Hazard—a tiny little person with innocent blue eyes, his blue eyes. Nigel couldn’t breathe easily again until he could see for himself that Hazard was all right. For that, Nigel Hazard or Nigel Gasp—all the Nigels—would do anything they had to do, even lie to Jeff Paxton for the very first time.
Even if it cost him everything.
Maybe that was a little overstated. Of course, Jeff would be angry, but he would understand because he understood everything.
At forty years of age Nigel Hazard had finally found a wind mighty enough to hold him aloft. Jeff loved him exactly as he was, and Nigel’s heart would never be the same again.
Jeff loved him.
With that understanding, Nigel spread his figurative wings and flew.
The secret to success in infiltration, Nigel thought as he slunk back into the hospital, was observation. Amil was a master of subtleties, and he’d managed to scrounge up pale green surgical scrubs and a white Miami Children’s Hospital lab coat complete with an ID card, which dangled from a round clip attached to the pocket. To this, Nigel added a stethoscope to which he’d attached a tiny stuffed koala bear.
“Are you certain you want to do this?” Amil asked when he produced a pair of scissors. “It seems a little drastic.”
“It will be fine. Small sacrifices,” Nigel said as he ruthlessly sawed through the ponytail at the back of his neck. He ran his fingers through what was left and checked himself out in the side mirror of the SUV. It wasn’t easy, as he had only the light from the streetlamp above them to work. A few more snips and a cap—the tied-on type surgeons wore to cover their hair—completed the picture. “Should I shave or no?”
“No. No one notices a tired physician in the middle of the night.”
“Wish me luck.”
“Do you need luck?” Amil asked.
“Not really.” Nigel knew he could pull this off. He’d pulled off all kinds of stunts in his day, and none had been as important as this one. Amil shot him a grin as he pulled from the curb. Nigel waved and turned to make the walk back toward the hospital.
Ambling through the lobby armed with a folded newspaper, a bottle of water, and a sandwich in a clear plastic lunch sack, he appeared to be headed for a break, no more or less interesting than the girls who’d snapped his picture earlier, who had been similarly dressed and carrying coffee.
A saunter past the reception area, down the corridor he and Jeff had discovered earlier, and a ride up in the elevator with an indifferent member of the cleaning crew led him to the wing where Hazard was probably sleeping safely in his crib, alone.
Nigel scouted around a little without getting directly in anyone’s line of sight. The nurses’ station was occupied, but the staff there paid little attention to him. They were talking about something that kept them interested enough for him to study the patient board without incident.
More stressful was seeing two doctors and a man in a suit step off the elevator he’d just left behind. Nigel ducked into the men’s room, only to hear footsteps outside.
Nigel turned to use the urinal when he heard the door creak open and a younger man in scrubs stepped inside. The newcomer appeared to be a nurse or technician, but Nigel kept his face averted in the way of men using a urinal side by side. Afterward they washed their hands, also side by side. Nigel’s heart sped up but he leaned over to splash water on his face, and the other man left without comment.
Nigel’s pulse still hammered at the base of his throat when he crossed the hallway. It wasn’t that he was afraid to get caught. Even if security had him thrown in jail, Deidre would get him out or he’d do his time and suffer the consequences. A little jail time would only enhance Nigel Gasp’s image as a troublemaking party monster.
But leaving without seeing Hazard for himself was right out, whatever it took. Getting caught sneaking into Hazard’s room was not an option. Getting caught sneaking out? Well…he’d deal with that when the time came.
When he walked by the nurses’ station, he pretended to read the paper. He scowled as if he were actually affected by the news, but it wasn’t hard. The headline read MAN SURVIVES FREAK ACCIDENT and there was an X-ray picture of a head with a spear through it, and one didn’t see those every day.
“That’s something, isn’t it?” someone said from behind him.
“Helluva thing,” Nigel agreed as he looked at the room numbers on the doors. He kept on walking. In his experience as long as he didn’t make eye contact, no one would expect him to make conversation. He was just about at the door to Hazard’s room when someone spoke to him directly.
“Excuse me?”
Nigel glanced up to find an attractive middle-aged woman peering at him. She wore the same ubiquitous aqua scrubs he wore and carried a stack of file folders.
Nigel lifted his brows in question. Irritability was always in fashion with doctors, so he tried that. He’d seen House a time or two, after all. “Do you need an excuse?”
She blinked up at him, equally irritated. “I just—”
“I’m looking for the Paxton boy. The mothers, Katje and Deidre Paxton, are friends of mine, and they asked me to look in.” He held up his hand as if to forestall any questions. “And before you say anything about the gay mafia, the answer is yes, there is one, and we’re coming
for all the children next.”
“In there.” She eyed him critically.
He trotted out a smile and leaned in close. “Maybe we’ll spare your children. Calvin Klein Eternity for men on the door—posts and lintel—when the time comes, but you didn’t hear it from me.”
Nigel practically screamed when she tapped lightly on the door and poked her head in to look around. “Mother’s asleep on the bed there. One of them, anyway. Sure you should wake her?”
“I’ll check the chart and look over the baby, and if she wakes, we’ll talk. If not, I’ll call her later.”
She grunted and moved on. He slid into Hazard’s room, perfectly incandescent with apprehension.
Hazard’s room was small and private. Currently the lights were off, so it was also dark and quiet. Dee whuffled, deeply asleep on a standard hospital bed. She looked awful; dark circles ringed her eyes. She must have been utterly exhausted to sleep like that. Perhaps they’d given her something, but Nigel didn’t believe it. Dee had never willingly given up control in her life.
Hazard slept in a bassinet beside her, his tiny hands open and utterly relaxed. Nigel could see he was on the mend—the way he slept indicated he was out of the woods. Even though he was still attached to wires and tubes, he looked peaceful, flushed, his small head damp with sweat.
Other than the sweetly reassuring rise and fall of his chest, he wasn’t moving, but his eyelids fluttered as if he dreamed. His perfect, pink cheeks looked flushed. Nigel identified an IV tube, but the rest of the wires seemed to be for monitoring oxygen levels and heart rate. He didn’t appear to be in any pain.
Something inside Nigel untwisted for the first time since he’d heard Hazard was sick. It was as if a huge, muscled knot eased within him—like Jeff’s thirty-foot tapeworm had been flailing in his chest like a fire hose and now it suddenly dissolved and Nigel could breathe again.
“A leanbh na páirte. I am such a cliché,” Nigel said in the barest whisper. “Dragged into marginal maturity by fatherhood. How could I bear it if anything happened to you?”
Gasp! Page 23