(Blue Notes 2)The Melody Thief (7 page)

“I guess.” Cary didn’t think much about it. Or he hadn’t, at least not recently. “I never knew my dad, so I didn’t really have anything to miss.”

“Papà!” Massimo shouted happily as he pulled his father up to the counter. “It’s our turn.”

Cary was secretly relieved at the interruption—he didn’t want to discuss his parents. The broken wrist had done nothing to keep the painful childhood memories at bay. In fact, it seemed to have reawakened them.

They ordered sodas and
ciambelle
, Italian doughnuts dusted with powdered sugar, before finding their seats. The smell of animals and manure hung in the air in the large arena, mingling with the smell of buttered popcorn and the sweet, greasy scent of the
ciambelle
. Cary felt like a kid again as he inhaled the mixture of smells. And although it was a smaller circus than the huge spectacles he had come to expect in the US, something akin to excitement stirred in his own heart as he took in the stadium filled with parents and children.

A family of eight filed in past them, all chattering excitedly about the circus. Below, a parade of animals entered from a large doorway, and acrobats swung by their knees on trapezes hung from the rafters.

“So I’m guessing from the photos in your apartment that you have a pretty large family,” Cary said after they had gotten Massimo settled. He leaned closer to make himself heard over the din of the crowd and the announcements over the PA.

“You could say that.” Antonio’s face lit up at the mention of his family. “Four sisters, ten nieces and nephews. Most of us live in or near Milan, so we see each other at least once a month at the vineyard.”

“Vineyard?”

“Yes. In the Lombardy wine region. After my father died a few years ago, my mother hired people to run it for her, but she still lives on the property. It’s a very large house. Perfect for family get-togethers. The kids can run around and the adults sit, eat, and drink. Remind me to have you try the wine—it’s excellent.”

“Papà! Connore! Look! Clowns!” Massimo stood up and nearly spilled his drink in his excitement, but Cary grabbed it at the last second.

“See, I told you, they’re Italian clowns,” Antonio pointed out.

“How do you know that?” Massimo demanded with a frown. “You can’t hear them speak.”

“Smart kid. He has a point, though.” Cary grinned at Antonio, who laughed. Massimo, seeing this interaction, flashed Cary a bright smile and then looked pointedly at his father as if to say,
See… Connore agrees with me!

A group of children from the audience had gathered down on the floor of the arena, and the clowns came over to greet them.

“Would you like to find out if the clowns are Italian?” Cary heard himself ask.

He was still trying to figure out why he had even offered when Massimo responded with an energetic “Will you take me, Connore? Please, please!”

“Sure.” Cary ignored Antonio’s look of approval and hoped he didn’t look half as nervous as he felt. He still hated kids, he told himself as he and Massimo descended the sticky concrete steps and joined the parents and children near the ring.

Massimo watched in fascination as one of the clowns made a balloon dog and handed it to a little girl, who jumped up and down in excitement when she showed it to her mother.

“Would you like one too?” Cary asked as they moved closer.

“
Sì
,
sì
!” Massimo shouted. The clown smiled at them and put his hands up in the air. “What does he want, Connore?”

“He wants to know what you want him to make for you.”

“I want… I want…,” Massimo repeated, his face screwed up in concentration.

“I think I have an idea,” Cary said. “Do you trust me?”

The little boy appeared to consider this question, then nodded.

Cary winked at Massimo and approached the clown, covered his mouth with his hand, and whispered something into the clown’s ear. The clown nodded and got to work.

“What’s he making?” Massimo was wide-eyed as he watched the clown’s quick movements with fascination.

“I won’t tell. That would spoil the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

The twinkle in Massimo’s eyes belied his studious frown, and he burst out laughing a moment later when the clown handed him the balloon creation. “It’s an airplane!” he shouted happily, dancing about and pretending to make it fly.

“
Grazie
.” Cary nodded to the clown as they turned to head back up the steps so Massimo could show his father. The clown waved his arm with a flourish and bowed.

“Papà was wrong,” Massimo said as they headed back up to their seats, weaving in and out of other parents and children descending the steep steps. Massimo clasped Cary’s good hand and held the airplane against his chest to protect it.

“About what?”

“About the clowns.”

“How’s that?” Cary asked.

“They don’t speak Italian.”

“And they don’t speak English, either, do they?”

“Nope,” laughed Massimo. “They just don’t
speak
at all!” Then, a moment later, he announced, “I like you, Connore. My papà likes you too.”

“Is that so?” Cary countered. Was he getting the hang of this talking-to-a-kid thing?

“My papà used to live with a boy he liked. His name was Massimo, just like mine.”

“Really?” So Antonio wasn’t a monk, after all.
Interesting.

“He died.”

“Oh.” Cary wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Massimo, however, was unfazed. “You like boys, don’t you? I mean, grown-up boys.” Massimo lowered his voice and went on to explain, “Like Papà does? You know, better than girls.”

“Yes,” Cary admitted, surprised at how much the child understood about sexual orientation, “but—”

“Are you going to stay with us, then? Like Massimo stayed with Papà, before I was born?”

Crap. How the hell do you answer that? “No, kid, I hadn’t planned on it?” Or maybe “Just long enough so he can fuck me into the bed?”
It wasn’t as if he expected much more, anyhow. He didn’t
want
any more than that, right?

“I don’t think so, Massi. We’re just friends,” Cary finally said. “I don’t think—”

“It’s good you’re friends,” Massimo interrupted, looking quite pleased. “So Papà and I will just have to make you stay.”

And what
, thought Cary with a sigh,
can you possibly say to that?

But as they arrived back at their seats, Cary wondered what Antonio would say when he realized Connor was a lie.
Then again, so much of my life is a lie anyhow.
What was one more whopper piled on top of the others?

Chapter 7

T
HE
E
LEPHANT
IN
THE
L
IVING
R
OOM

T
HEY arrived back at Antonio’s apartment four hours later. Massimo fell asleep in the cab, and Antonio carried him to the big bed, where he tucked the boy in as Cary watched.

“Thank goodness,” Antonio said a moment later, closing the door to the bedroom. “If I have to hear about the elephants one more time….” He covered his mouth with his hand and yawned. “Sometimes he even makes
me
tired.”

“You’re really good with him.” Cary knew he shouldn’t care, but he was even
more
attracted to Antonio after watching him with Massimo. It was a strange realization, and one that left Cary ill at ease.

Next thing you know, you’ll be offering to help him wipe the kid’s nose. Or worse….

“Thanks.”

When Massimo started to get cranky as the day wore on, Antonio had been nothing but patient. Well, almost. At one point, Cary had seen the frustration in Antonio’s usually calm features when Massimo, for the second time, dropped his lollipop onto the filthy floor. Still, Antonio hadn’t given in to Massimo’s demands for more candy.

“I’m pretty sure I’d have bought him the lollipop when he started to whine,” Cary admitted.

This statement was rewarded with a rumbled laugh. “What you don’t know is that I
did
give in to the whining. About a hundred times. And every time I did, Massi ended up with a sugar tantrum that would have put Attila the Hun to shame. It just took me a while to learn my lesson.” Antonio grinned and walked over to the kitchen. “More coffee?”

“Please.” In spite of the espresso they had stopped for on their way home, Cary was nearly as tired as Massimo. More caffeine would do him good. That, and he was enjoying Antonio’s company too much to go home so soon.

“It’s like anything,” Antonio continued as he worked the espresso maker. “You get better at it with practice.”

They settled down on the couch and sipped their coffee. This close, Cary could see the tiny lines at the corners of Antonio’s mouth. He couldn’t help but be amazed at how Antonio’s blue eyes appeared almost turquoise in the fading light filtering in through the windows. And that hair… Cary could see strands of red woven throughout. It was cropped close at the back of his neck, but the top was longer, tumbling over his ears and forehead. Cary longed to run his fingers through those curls and feel the short hairs tickle his upper lip as he licked the skin at the nape of his companion’s neck.

“I had fun today,” Cary said as he brought the tiny cup of fragrant coffee to his lips.

“You sound surprised.”

Cary saw the challenge in Antonio’s eyes and offered a conciliatory smile. “I guess I am.”

“You don’t get to visit your nephews often?”

“Not as often as I’d like. And when I’m there, I don’t spend much time with them. Like I said, I hate kids.”

The truth was that Cary had always been a little afraid of his three boisterous nephews—afraid he’d bore them, or not like what they wanted to do and be bored himself. He’d never played much as a child since he’d always been too busy practicing, and he honestly wasn’t sure what kids liked to do. He’d never watched much TV, and he hadn’t owned a single video or computer game. The only reason he knew anything about games at all was from watching his brother play.

“Besides,” Cary added, “they’d probably think I was about as far from cool as you could get.”

“You’d be surprised. Kids mostly just want someone to pay attention to them. Massi thinks you’re great. Are you any more cool around him? He thinks you’re a nice guy. And so does his papà,” he added.

Cary’s cheeks warmed at the compliment, and without really thinking, he reached for Antonio’s jaw. God, but he wanted to kiss Antonio, to taste him!

Antonio did not pull away but searched Cary’s face as if he were expecting to see something there, then put his own hand over Cary’s as the corners of his mouth edged oh-so-faintly upward. But he did not kiss Cary, nor did he move closer.

Cary’s hunger now clawed at the back of his brain, urging him to do something, anything, to claim those full lips. He leaned forward with a questioning look in his eyes.

Oh God… I want this….

Antonio’s cell phone rang. Through his lust-clouded mind, Cary recognized the ring: Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” Cary had to smile. He had always loved that melody. It was one of the first pieces he had ever played.

“
Scusi
,” Antonio told Cary as he stood up. “That’s Francesca.”

Cary yawned and settled back on the couch, closing his eyes as he listened to Antonio recount their afternoon at the circus and make plans for Massimo’s weekend. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he heard was the sound of little feet trotting across the wood floor and a very loudly whispered, “Is he sleeping?”

“I think so,” came Antonio’s reply.

Apparently, for a five-year-old, a grown man falling asleep on the couch was just about the funniest thing imaginable.

Just wait until you’re a teenager
, Cary thought as he repressed a laugh.

“Are you sleeping?” This time, the words were whispered directly into his ear.

“No!” Cary shouted, grabbing Massimo around the waist with his good arm and tickling him mercilessly. They rolled around for a minute or two, laughing, until Cary saw Antonio standing over them, holding Massimo’s coat.

“I hate to have to stop you two children,” Antonio said, “but I need to take Massi to my mother’s for the weekend. I have a client in town I need to meet, so he can’t stay with me.” Massimo climbed off Cary and made a disappointed face. “I can drop you off at your place, if you’d like, Connor.”

“Thanks,” Cary said, “but I thought I’d stop by a friend’s on my way home.” When had he gotten so smooth with the lies?

“Are you coming back to see me and Papà soon?” Massimo asked as they walked out of the building a few minutes later.

“I’ll do my best,” Cary promised. In spite of everything, Massimo had grown on him. And his father…. He had thought he had seen desire in Antonio’s gaze more than once that day, and yet here he was, facing the unsatisfying prospect of yet another night spent alone in his own bed. He felt only slightly guilty to find himself hoping the next time he saw Antonio, Massimo might be spending the night with his mother.