Played to Death (11 page)

Pete looked up at me; he’d just put a bite of salad in his mouth. “Mmm hmm.”

“I love that you cook for me. That you find recipes and make dinner an occasion every night. Thank you.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome. You’ve told me that before, you know.”

“It bears repeating. I think I should probably marry you.”

“Good thing you’re going to, then. Did you get a chance to search for vows today?”

“Mm. No. I’ll do it this evening. I was going to work through lunch, but I had a surprise visitor.”

Pete looked up; he must have heard something in my voice. “Who?”

“Ethan.”

That made Pete lay
his
fork down. “What the hell was he doing there?”

“He’s moved to Hancock Park.”

“
Why?
”

“He got a position in the English department at USC.”

“So he came to see you -
why?
”

“To tell me he was in town, in case I heard it from someone else or we ran into each other somewhere.”

“He could have called. Why did he come to
see
you?”

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

Pete picked up his fork but tapped it on his pie instead of taking a bite. “His timing could be better.”

“Pete….?”

“No. I’m not jealous. But it’s a distraction. And I don’t trust his motives.”

“He said after today we’ll never see him again. Which is probably true. We never go to Hancock Park for any reason. And he’s already met someone.”

Pete made a disapproving face. “He works fast.”

“He’s lived here for three weeks. He wanted to get out and start meeting people.”

“Some club in West Hollywood?”

“No. You know the mystery bookstore in Pasadena you like so much? He went to a reading there and met a guy.”

“Ethan likes mysteries too?”

“That’s my fault. I got him started on P.D. James and Peter Lovesey while we lived in Oxford, and from there he took off.”

“You said he’d move back to the Bay Area.”

“He said USC made him the best offer. The English department there has several Oxford graduates. That was his in.”

Pete frowned at his forkful of lettuce and tomato. “Is he recovered from the stabbing?”

“Yeah. He’s rowing again. He’s already joined the rowing club that meets down at the marina.”

“Well.” Pete speared another bite of salad. “I’d like to think that Ethan’s planning to stay out of our way - but I’ll bet you anything you’ll see him again.”

I thought to myself,
I’d better not
.

I cleaned up the kitchen and put in a load of laundry while Pete went upstairs to our office. He had final grades to turn in; graduation was tomorrow evening. I made sure the lower levels were secured then went to the office and took my laptop to the sofa. I powered it up and paused for a minute, my fingers over the keys. How best to search for this? Might as well start with the basics. I typed “gay wedding vows” into Google and hit enter.

In the first one that popped up, one of the names used as the example was Jamie.

I read through it and decided I liked it a lot. We could edit to personalize. I copied and pasted it into an email from our joint account and sent it to the same account with the subject line
See what you think. We can edit.

I skimmed through some of the other sites but didn’t see anything I liked as well. I glanced up at Pete, who was grimacing at his computer. He’d be busy for a while. I closed my laptop, returned it to the desk, and picked up the book I’d been reading.

A couple of hours later Pete closed his laptop with a sigh. I said, “Finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you have to flunk anyone?”

“A handful.”

“Out of five classes, a handful isn’t too bad.”

“No. But there were a couple of handfuls of D’s. The D’s and F’s will have to take it again.” Pete got up from the desk and stretched. “Ready for a shower?”

After our shower, we crawled into bed. I was drifting off when Pete said softly, “Can I ask you something?”

“Mm. Sure.”

“If Ethan’s father had been accepting of him - or if he’d passed away while the two of you were together - do you think you’d still be with him?”

“Pfft. Who knows? Probably not.” I took Pete’s hand. “But that’s alternate history. The Nazis didn’t win World War Two, and we don’t speak German. Ethan’s dad was a homophobic prick, and he dumped me because of it.” I turned his ring with my fingertips. “And I am exactly where I want to be. Where I’m
supposed
to be.”

I felt his smile against the side of my head.

Tuesday, June 16

Jamie

When I walked into the library Tuesday morning, Ethan was waiting for me.

Oh, for God’s sake
. I looked at my watch. “What happened to ‘you’ll never see me again?’ It’s been less than twenty-four hours.”

Ethan had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry. I promise, this
will
be the last time. I need a restaurant recommendation.”

“Uh huh. For this guy you met?”

“Yeah. Someplace casual, intimate and delicious. Know any place like that?”

There was a place near Hancock Park where Scott and I had often eaten, a small Italian restaurant with ten tables and fabulous food. “Eugenio’s. It’s on Waring. It’s a good setting for a date.”

Ethan grinned. “Awesome. Thanks.”

“You could have just called.”

He shrugged. “I know. I was running errands and had to come this way.”

I said, “Ethan?”

He looked at me, all innocence. “What?”

I lowered my voice. “That had fuckin’
better
be all it is.”

He turned slightly pink. “It
is
. Seriously, you will
never
see me again.”

I folded my arms and glared at him. “Uh huh.”

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He hurried out of the building.

I watched him go, thinking,
Crap
.

Scott

Scott woke up slowly the next morning, smiling at pleasant memories - until he tried to move. “Ow ow ow.” Ethan had taken him rowing the afternoon before, and now every muscle in his body was screaming in agony. Ethan had supplied gloves, so he hadn’t blistered his hands. And he’d worn sunscreen, so he hadn’t gotten burned - but he was discovering muscles he didn’t know he had. And they were all painful.

He’d thought he was in pretty good shape. He’d kept up, from a cardio standpoint - which was probably why he’d rowed as long as he had. Clearly, running was not adequate training for rowing.

Why would it be? They were about as much alike as playing the cello and the trombone. Both were music, but the skills didn’t transfer.

Scott rolled to his feet with a groan. Maybe he’d feel better if he walked on the treadmill for a while. He pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, put on his running shoes and grabbed a bottle of water.

After a half-hour on the treadmill and a soak in the tub, he was feeling slightly better. He wrapped a towel around his waist and hobbled to the kitchen to get another bottle of water - and his phone rang. He picked it up, expecting the cops - but it was Ethan.

His heart began doing backflips. Scott mentally chastised himself. He really needed to get these physical reactions under control or Ethan would think he was an idiot.

He answered, trying to sound calm. Mature. Sexy. He figured he’d fail at all three. “Hello?”

Ethan’s voice was warm. It occurred to Scott that Ethan always sounded like he’d just been laughing. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m great. After a hot shower, I can move without screaming.”

“Oh
no
. You’re that sore? Shit, I’m sorry. I should have stopped you.”

“Nah. I should have stopped myself. I had a great time yesterday. Thank you again.”

Ethan sounded pleased. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, in spite of the aftermath. Let me make it up to you. Are you busy this evening?”

Scott wanted to shout, “NO! NO!” Instead he said - mature, sexy - “No, I’m free. What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s go to dinner. Someplace small that no one else knows about, with great food and atmosphere, where we don’t have to dress up. A friend suggested Eugenio’s, but if there’s someplace you’d rather go, that’s fine too.”

Scott grinned. He hadn’t been there for months because Brent refused to eat there. “I love Eugenio’s. The food is fantastic.”

“That sounds perfect. Where is it?”

Scott gave him the address. “I’ll get a reservation for seven, if that’s a good time. It’s generally not necessary, but this way we won’t be disappointed.”

“Excellent. Seven is great. I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay, see you then.” Scott hung up and sucked in a breath, then did a ridiculous - and extremely limited - happy dance around his living room.

This would not do. He had to calm down. He got dressed, slowly climbed to his loft, and began to play.

As he lifted his bow, it occurred to him to wonder -
what
friend had told Ethan about Eugenio’s?

Scott reached Eugenio’s shortly before seven, to find Ethan there waiting. Ethan was wearing slacks and a polo shirt, and he looked fantastic. As Scott smiled at him, he silently recited his mantra.
Calm. Mature. Sexy
.

Ethan grinned back. “This place smells
amazing
. My mouth is already watering.”

So was Scott’s, but not necessarily because of the food. “The food here is wonderful. I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

They were seated and ordered wine. Ethan studied the menu and Scott studied Ethan. He felt himself begin to relax. They were going to have a lovely evening, and once more Scott would be able to forget about Elena Morales for a while.

After they’d ordered, Ethan held up his wineglass. “Here’s to Eugenio’s. I love it already.”

Scott clinked his glass against Ethan’s. “I’m glad. What friend told you about it?”

“Oh.” Ethan’s gaze flicked around the room. “An old friend from the Bay area. Someone I went to school with who lives here now.”

“Ah. I didn’t realize you knew anyone in town.”

Ethan shook his head. “Just a handful of people that have filtered down here from San Francisco over the years. No one close.”

Scott thought to himself,
Good
.

Jamie

Tuesday evening was Santa Monica College’s graduation, which Pete was expected to attend. He’d be home late; I had an evening to myself, with nothing pressing to do. I ate Indian takeout then made some phone calls to my dad, my grandfather and my sister-in-law, Val. Then I decided I’d better solve my “something blue” problem.

Blue wouldn’t go with anything I was wearing. Not that I had to be matchy-matchy, but if I was wearing beige, tan and black then blue socks wouldn’t do. I laughed to myself - fourteen months with Scott had sharpened my fashion sense. What blue thing could I wear or carry that wouldn’t show?

I looked at a couple of Pinterest boards but found no inspiration there. I opened our joint email account to read through the vows I’d found. Pete had done some editing, which I was happy with - but the vows didn’t spur any “blue” thoughts.

I idly wondered if Graham and Kent had followed the borrowed and blue tradition - and was struck with an idea.

I opened a Word document and began to write.

Thursday, June 18

Scott

Tuesday evening’s dinner with Ethan had gone even better than Scott could have hoped. They’d lingered for three hours, talking and laughing. They’d been a little buzzed on wine by the time they left the restaurant, so they walked the streets of West Hollywood for a while, window shopping and people-watching.

Scott had never dated anyone so easy to be with.

With the possible exception of Jamie.

They spent the afternoon and evening together on Wednesday. Scott drove up to Malibu - Ethan had never been there - then they visited a gallery where Ethan bought a Frankenthaler print. Scott hadn’t said so, but the one Ethan chose was his favorite as well.

The gallery said the print would be ready the following day, so Scott had volunteered to pick it up and deliver it. Ethan had offered lunch; Scott had accepted. He was anxious to see Ethan’s house.

You could learn a lot about someone from their home.

Pulling into the driveway, Scott was immediately impressed. The house was a clean, bright contemporary with beautiful landscaping. So far, so good.

Ethan opened the door and took the wrapped print from Scott. “Come on in. Thanks so much for doing this.”

“I’m happy to do it.” Scott stepped inside the house and thought,
Yes
. “This is gorgeous.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you like it.” Ethan propped the print against a wall. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

The entire house was decorated in pale neutrals, woods and stone. Exactly as Scott would have done. He tried not to gush, but it was difficult. “You’ve done a fabulous job in here.”

Ethan was pleased - he turned a bit pink - but he shrugged. “Everything was done. All I did was add furniture.”

“Well, it looks wonderful. Where are you going to hang that print?”

They spent some time choosing the right spot, finally settling on the bedroom. Scott took in the bedroom with appreciation, while trying to look like he wasn’t scrutinizing it. He was glad to see that it was clean and neat. Not a dirty sock in sight.

And the scariest thing - his was decorated in a very similar fashion.

As they ate lunch - a simple pasta salad which Ethan threw together as they talked, with crusty bread - Scott thought to himself,
I’m in big trouble
.