Strings Attached (31 page)

“Jeremy, dear,” Katharine interrupted, immaculate in black Chanel. “The gulls are beginning to make their presence known.” She pointed to a gray smear on Arthur’s lieutenant’s jacket that dripped from shoulder to medals. “Might we begin?”

He cleared his throat officiously. “Thank you all for coming,” he began “even though only a few of you even knew my mother. But if you know me, you know my history, and she’s a big part of both.

“My mother was an unusual woman,” he continued, his voice resonant and clear. “She had her own ideas about the world and what part she wanted, or didn’t want, to play in it. Her biggest fault seemed to be her willingness to always take the easy way out. This she did often, and all kinds of disasters happened because of it.

“But in spite of her faults, what will stay with me for the rest of my life is the conversation we had a week ago on the beach just below us, right down there.” He pointed, and everyone turned. “She told me that she came back here to warn me, because she knew that I was in danger. If she hadn’t, I might be dead, and she would be the one holding this can of ashes.” He held the silver object up briefly, then set it on the ledge behind him. Glancing quickly over his shoulder, he noticed a white schooner below in full sail pulling dangerously close to the waves cresting for the beach.

Something about the boat caught his attention, so he squinted directly into the afternoon sun to read the words painted in bold script on the stern. They read:

KAY
+
RON’S FERRY TAIL

On deck, he spotted the athletic figures of a young man and woman in swimming attire who waved their arms happily at the group high above the beach.
They must think it’s a wedding,
Jeremy figured sourly. He raised his hand to wave back politely and inadvertently knocked the can off the wooden ledge.

“Shit!” he exclaimed as it tumbled end over end down the rugged cliffside toward the rocks below.

The group rushed to the edge in time to witness the lid break loose and the remains of Tiffany Tyler spin away on a gust of wind.

“Good thing it’s offshore today,” Arthur noted.

Jeremy hung his head and sobbed.

Carlo put his arm around him. “Wasn’t that what you were going to do anyway?” he asked gently.

Jeremy nodded.

“She just beat you to it. She got in the last word.”

Arthur handed him his handkerchief, and Jeremy blew his nose.

“I guess you’re right.” He nodded.

“Sweetheart,” Aunt Katharine urged, pointing skyward. “The seagulls.”

“Anyhow,” he continued, trying to gather his poise, “my mother let me know during our talk here, and in no uncertain terms, that she loved me and accepted me for the person…for the man I’ve become. This is important to me, as it came from a lonely woman who said she didn’t know what love felt like.

“I guess not many people knew, including me, that my mother had another side to her, one that was gentle and sentimental. In fact, I didn’t really know this myself until I went through the box she kept all taped up. A couple of days after her death, I opened it and found some papers, a pearl necklace she’d ‘borrowed’ from my aunt, a couple of photos of me as a boy, something I’d made at school…” he and Arthur smiled at each other “…and this letter she’d written for my dad but unfortunately never gave to him. Anyway, here’s what it said:

“‘March 15, 1988. Dear Johnny, I know things have been hard and I’ve been kind of a bitch lately, but I want you to know that I love you and always will. It’s just hard for me to tell you that sometimes, ’cause I’m afraid of so many different things. So after our fight yesterday, I wrote you this poem.” He stopped reading momentarily and faced Carlo, who looked down at his shoes and then looked up to meet his gaze with open adoration. And then he continued,

“‘You came to my rescue

And saw beyond my shit

I hope I’ll never be the kind of wife you want to hit.

I look at you and think

What does he see in me?

I’m just a girl that’s poor

How can his true love be?

When our days are done

And we’re old and gray together

I pray that you’ll love me

And our hearts will be light as a feather.

You’re too good for me,

We both know that’s true

I just hope you can love me

Someday like I love you.

Luv, Tiffany’”

Jeremy finished reading the poem and noticed the quiet sobs and snuffles coming from those surrounding him. And surprisingly, the loudest were those of his aunt.

“Jeremy, you’re wrong about that poem, about not ever having given it to your father,” she stated, her voice hoarse with emotion.

“Then why was it still in her little box?”

“He, Jonathan, had it with him the day he died. It was retrieved from the accident site; apparently he always kept it in his wallet. And I begrudgingly handed it to her the day of his funeral.” The tears streamed down her face from behind her glasses, streaking her pale face powder. “She saved it, Jeremy. Your mother saved that paper all these years.”

Jeremy’s eyes fluttered open. He looked around the room. He was dreaming about his dad again. Jonathan had been saying something about
off the block.
Had he called him a chip off the old block? He smiled, happily figuring he was one, in more ways than he could have ever dreamed. Or was it something having to do with the starting block of a pool?
What was it?
He couldn’t bring it back. Whatever he’d said had evaporated from his memory.
Poof!

He threw his leg over the other’s, then caressed the hollow of his neck with his lips. His lover growled deep in his chest, like a panther purring, and smiled at him behind closed eyes.

Was this a dream too?

Their lovemaking had been ferocious. It seemed that every opening in Jeremy’s body had been taught to speak a new language as each was happily instructed by Carlo’s fingers, Carlo’s tongue, Carlo’s cock, Carlo’s love.

His lover stirred, yawned, stretched, opened his eyes, and grinned. Then with his hand, Carlo wiped a dollop of spit from his mouth and rubbed it onto him, teasing him.

“I can’t do it anymore tonight,” Jeremy whispered, exhausted. He lay spread-eagled in the huge four-poster, the sheets underneath him clammy with perspiration. “You’ve drained every bit of me.”

“Wanna bet?” Carlo’s hand reached between Jeremy’s legs, then he slid his head down until it rested on his chest. “I can hear your heart beating,” he cooed, rubbing the insides of his sleek thighs. “And it’s speeding up.”

Jeremy caressed the knotted muscles of the young man’s shoulders, loving the feel of his hot copper skin in his hands. He looked down and saw that Carlo was ready once again, and the sight of his erection made himself lift and lengthen.

“Ah, now that’s a good boy,” Carlo murmured. “I told you hard-ons were contagious.” His lips hunted with kisses down Jeremy’s torso until his mouth bagged its prize.

Moments later, they were catching their breath.

“I’ve got a favor to ask,” Jeremy said mischievously. “Tonight, or more like tomorrow, I want to wear Coby’s red sweatshirt and have you fuck me.”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” he answered cheerfully. “Except seeing Coby wear it while getting screwed by the entire football team, coaches included.”

“We’ll have to explore the details of that later.”

“Absolutely, otherwise these’ll fall off.” He grinned. “Hey, the sun’s almost down. You said we could go down to the boathouse and see your birthday present.”

“Sure, if I can find the keys. Let’s go.” They stepped into their shorts and sandals, then threw on sweatshirts and sprinted down the stairs, through the living room, and out onto the deck, which jutted over the ankle-high waves splashing the rocky banks.

“My God, it’s gonna be a beautiful night,” Carlo said, taking in the dimming lavender sky sprinkled with stars, and the sliver of silver moon piercing the silhouetted tree boughs.

“The spring sky is supposed to be the best for stargazing,” Jeremy told him. “And there’s one constellation that’s supposed to be visible now that it’s April. Let’s see if I can find it.” His head swiveled from side to side as he scanned the heavens. “There!” He pointed, as if spotting a UFO. “Between those two really tall pine trees in the west. It’s just dark enough now to see it.”

“What am I looking for?”

“It’s the constellation of Gemini, and if you can imagine the stars like connect-the-dots stick figures, it looks like two people holding hands. Look, you can see the two heads side by side, the arms, the bodies, the legs, even the feet.”

“What’s so special about the Gemini twins?” Carlo asked, still not seeing what he was supposed to.

“Thousands of years ago, soldiers used to pray to them for protection in battle, and the Romans called them the ‘Stella Patrim,’ or something in Latin that means ‘Father’s Star.’ The twin constellations were supposed to be a father and son who were killed by an evil general, then Zeus sent them to be together forever in heaven.” He craned his neck back and sighed. “But now that both my parents are gone, I like to imagine them as my mom and dad up there looking out for me, especially since we’re up here by ourselves and Bill’s still out there somewhere, and Arthur’s at the house looking out for Aunt Katharine.”

“Do you really believe in that kind of mystical stuff?”

“After everything that’s happened this year, I’m starting to.”

“Then maybe I can think of something else in the sky as my mom,” Carlo pondered. “Like maybe from now on the moon will be ‘Luna,’ the mother who never accepted her gay son and was forced to watch him forever, from the sky, do things like this.” Carlo pulled Jeremy close and stuck his tongue down his throat.

Jeremy pushed him away, laughing. “Come on, it’s almost dark.” He grabbed his hand and led him down along the floating dock to the boathouse. Once there, he slid his key into the lock, turned it, and swung open the door. A glint of glossy mahogany and polished chrome peeked from the shadows. He hit the light switch on the wall.

“Oh, Jeremy, it’s beautiful! What kind is it again?”

“It’s a 1947 Chris Craft De Luxe Runabout, straight from the restorer’s. They brought it, I mean her, up from Newport Beach last week. She’s been rebuilt from bow to stern.”

“That was so cool of your aunt to get it for your eighteenth,” he sighed, running his hand along the mirrorlike varnish. “For mine, all I got was a new Bible. Can we take it out tomorrow?”

“What do you think,” he laughed, nudging him. “First thing in the morning we’ll pack a lunch and take it to the other side of the lake. There are some beautiful, really private coves there we can explore.”

“Just like the Hardy Boys?”

“Yeah, but no ‘chum’ stuff, if you don’t mind.”

“Can we take turns driving?”

“Isn’t that what we were doing all day?” Jeremy whispered, cupping Carlo’s buttocks in his hands. Their lips met softly, then parted. “Let’s go back up. I left the doors open and I don’t want the place filled with mosquitoes. Besides, I’m starving.”

With Carlo in the lead, they trudged their way up the stairs toward the sleek structure, its black glass walls reflecting dimming smears of purple clouds.

He looked up, watching the side-to-side shift of Carlo’s rear, the solid concavity of his waist, and the confident rolling of his gymnast’s shoulders as he climbed the stairs ahead of him. Now that he knew the magnificence that lay underneath his lover’s clothing, he couldn’t wait to touch him again.

Once inside, they flicked on as many lights as they could find, chasing the darkness back into the corners. Then they made their way into the kitchen, where Carlo scooted himself up onto the orange tile countertop.

“You’re gonna have to do something about the way this place looks,” he suggested while popping open a soda can, a dreamy expression on his face. “Can I help pick out the furniture? I’m thinking Calvin Klein does Aspen.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. My aunt says she has a decorator lined up.”

“But it’s your house!” he pleaded.

“She says letting a teenager pick out their own furniture is like letting an ax murderer pick his own psychiatrist.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I get the picture.” He swung his legs happily. “So what’s for dinner?”

“Whatever your stomach wishes,” Jeremy replied, throwing open the refrigerator door.

“Pizza, pizza, pizza!”

He stuck his head back into the freezer. “We ate the last frozen ones for breakfast, so we’ll have to order some for delivery. Can you wait that long?”

“I’m patient, remember?” he murmured. “Look how long I waited for you.”

Jeremy smiled in reminiscence. How could he have not seen the treasures that Carlo offered? He inched over and planted a wet kiss on his mouth. “All right. Enough already. You can tell our grandkids how you were right and I was wrong.” He snatched his cell phone from the counter and was connected by Information. After placing the order for two large Supremes, he set the phone back down.

“One hour,” he reported. “She said because it’s Spring Break they’re backed up.”

“So what should we do in the meantime?” Carlo cocked an eyebrow.

“I could use a shower, or better yet, how about we fill up that big Jacuzzi tub in the master bathroom?”

Carlo scooted off the counter and made for the stairs without answering.

Their hands slipped lovingly over each other in the steaming suds, exploring gently as well as bravely, revisiting a touch that had elicited a moan earlier in the day, experimenting with ones untried. While locked in a hungry kiss, they masturbated each other under frothing water and reached gratification simultaneously.

Tiny mountains of snow-white bubbles grazed their earlobes. Jeremy pulled Carlo onto his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around him in an underwater hug. The yielding solidity of the young man’s body comforted him, as if he were joined finally with a part of himself he’d ached for his entire life.

But was this feeling only the filling of the void left by his father?

No.
This was different entirely.

Life, it occurred to him, was like the color wheel he’d constructed once in grade school, where he’d carefully cut out pie-shaped wedges of yellow and green and red and purple and orange and blue, then pasted them onto a cardboard disk. His pretty, young teacher, Mrs. Nairod, had shown him how to poke a hole through the center of the completed wheel and spin it on the body of a plastic pen where, to his amazement, the disk briefly shone white.

His life, he reasoned, had been missing specific color wedges for some time, causing his own wheel to wobble unsteadily and look a murky brown. Then, one by one, someone appeared and claimed each of the colors: Aunt Katharine, bright yellow. Arthur, his father’s vacant green. Carlo, passionate red. His mother, a reluctant purple. Ellie and Reed, complementary orange and blue. And Bill, he figured, was just the plain old cardboard backside.

“What are you thinking about?” Carlo whispered.

“Just how glad I am to have you in my life…and that I don’t know what I would’ve done without you…and Arthur.”

“Is that all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Yep,” he whispered. “It’s more than enough.”

Jeremy squeezed him hard, biting his ear gently, then kissing the cord of muscle running down his neck. “I love you, Carlo.”

“I love you, Jeremy.” He twisted his head backward, and they kissed.

The doorbell chimed dimly downstairs.

“Shit!” Jeremy exclaimed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go get it.” Carlo pushed himself dripping out of the water, dried himself quickly, and then wrapped his green paisley smoking jacket quickly around himself. “Besides, dinner’s on me tonight. Come down when you’re ready. I’ll set everything up.”

“Can’t wait!” He climbed from the tub watching the water rain from his own naked flanks, and then toweled himself off. After that, he grabbed his own scarlet robe from the valet stand and knotted the cord around his waist, then stepped into the bathroom and checked his reflection, noting the pink glow in his hollowed cheeks. He rubbed some styling gel into his palm and messed it through his hair, then stepped back and smiled.

He had to admit it, he looked good.

He heard the front door open, some friendly voices echoing in the foyer, then the door closing shut.

The thought of hot, cheesy pizza made him realize he was starving. He figured that after dinner they could build a fire, and after that they’d finally test the sturdiness of that big old coffee table.

Carlo called up to him. “Jeremy, can you come down here?
Now?”

Why did he sound stressed-out all of a sudden? Had he forgotten his money? He grabbed his wallet from the top of the nightstand and sauntered along the hallway to the staircase. He saw the old pizza delivery man in a red baseball cap standing very close to Carlo.

The head tilted back and Jeremy swooned.

Bill smiled up at him menacingly. “Don’t you think it was considerate of me to buy you little sodomites dinner?” He dropped the two pizza boxes on the floor and revealed the gun pressed into Carlo’s ribs. “I had to give the nice delivery boy an extra twenty for the hat, but I’d say I got the deal of a lifetime.”

“I didn’t know, Jeremy!” Carlo blurted. “I mean, I knew he was old for a delivery guy…”

Jeremy thought,
He’s been out of the country for three months. I can tell him anything…

“Hey, Uncle Bill,” he offered as he began descending the stairs. “We sure have missed you around the compound.”

“Not more than I’ve missed being there,” he snarled. “But now that Katharine’s got the dogs chasing me, I have nothing to lose, so I figured I’d take away the only thing she cares about, just like she’s taken away everything of mine. Now don’t come any closer, or I’ll put a bullet through your little brown girlfriend.”

Jeremy stopped his approach, his manner nonchalant. “I’ll bet it’s been hard on you, Uncle Bill, a man like you running from country to country. And all because of a big misunderstanding.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He shoved the barrel harder into Carlo’s ribs, making the young man’s eyes bug out and his chest heave unsteadily.

What would Mom say? What would she do?

“Didn’t you hear? Ari finally confessed that he thought I was trying to turn his son queer, and that’s why he sent those guys to beat me up. It was just a horrible mistake for Darius that he was wearing my jacket that night and they thought he was me.”
Like a rock from a slingshot,
he thought, and stepped down two more stairs.

Bill’s mind shuffled the facts:
Maybe Ari didn’t want to implicate me after all, because he knew that if he did, I would seize the gas stations and expose his drug business.
“But what about your mother?” he narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t they blaming me for that too?”

“They only suspected you because you disappeared that night,” Jeremy stated. “Then the coroner said it was an accidental insulin overdose. You know, she’d been drinking and probably forgot she’d already injected herself.” He looked down and shook his head.