All Snug (7 page)

care about him! He’s insipid.

“Wow,” Shawn said. “You look fantastic!”

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Damn if I didn’t blush. I was wearing my tux. It fit the

songs I sang best—set the mood. Then there was the fact

that if this was going to be the last time I saw Shawn, I

wanted to make one last impression on him. I mean, let me

be real, The Male Box was never my idea of a hangout, so

when was I going to bump into Shawn?

“Thanks,” I said.

Shawn had certainly taken a different approach, but I

dare say it got to me even more than my tux affected Shawn.

He was wearing a dark T-shirt, black jeans with the knees

torn out (I didn’t know knees could be so fucking sexy) and

black boots. And he had his violin.

I asked about it.

“From what you’ve said about your voice, this is the only

chance I have of winning. There’s nothing in the rules about

that, is there? I still want to win, El. Even if I can’t afford

that fucking bed.”

I took a swallow of my whisky. “Okay.”

“Okay to what?” he asked with a nervous sounding

laugh. “To the violin or me wanting the bed.”

“Both,” I said.

He smiled. Shit, damn, fuck, and my heart was in my

throat. I tossed back my Lagavulin to wash my heart back

down where it belonged. “Want a drink?”

“You buying again?” he asked with a grin.

“I am.”

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“How about I try some of that?” he said, pointing at my

glass. “This might be my only chance to try something so

hoity-toity.”

It doesn’t have to be, I wanted to say. Instead I nodded

and got our drinks.

“Now don’t slug it down,” I said, handing him his glass.

“This is a sipping whisky.”

“Okay,” he replied and swirled the liquor in his glass

and then brought it up—and closing his eyes—took a breath.

“Hmmm…,” he said and took a sip.

His eyes went wide, and I wasn’t sure if he was about to

cough or what.

“Wow,” he said. “Whoa….”

“You like?” I asked, wanting nothing more.

He smiled. “Vive la différence.”

“You like then!” I said, immensely pleased.

“Very smoky. Like drinking a fireplace.”

I grinned. A pretty apt description.

“Maybe you’re not so hoity-toity after all, El.”

“I hope not,” I replied.

He took another sip, waited, took it in, appreciated it.

“Smooth. Not like that gasoline filtered through sweaty gym

socks I’ve had before.”

I burst into laughter. “No gym socks,” I said. “It’s from a

distillery near the coast of Islay. It has a legitimate claim to

being one of the oldest in Scotland.” Another place I’d love to

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take Shawn. I had an idea he could make anything seem

new and fresh.

“Thank you, El,” he said. “Thanks for sharing with me.”

“No problem,” I muttered.

So we went to the DJ, told him the songs we wanted

him to play, and at the last minute I picked something

different. Then, while we waited for our turn, we chatted

politely, both avoiding anything deep. I got us another

round, but this time I got two rum and Cokes, house rum. It

earned me a huge smile.

“Not hoity-toity at all,” he said.

It made me feel so good that Shawn had to point out

that the DJ had just called my name. So I went up on the

stage and the music came on, and I did my best to knock

everybody’s socks off. Not to win, but because there was

something I wanted to tell Shawn.

Stupid maybe, but I had to.

I sang “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.” And as I sang the

lyrics, I sang them to him. I sang about how he was deep in

the heart of me. I told him I tried not to give into him, but

finally I couldn’t resist. I had never so obviously put my

heart on my sleeve in my entire life. Had this been big

business, the other man could have destroyed me. When I

was done, the bar burst into applause. I was a hit.

But was I a hit with Shawn? There was no way he could

have missed my message, was there? What was that look on

his face? He was usually an open book, but I couldn’t read

him now. Was it anger? Was it returned love? I didn’t know.

Then the DJ called Shawn’s name.

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He stood, walked right past me, and stood on the small

stage. He brought his violin up under his chin, and he closed

his eyes. The music started, a song I’d never heard before,

and he began to play.

I wish there was some way for me to explain what

happened then. I’m a businessman, and I can always come

up with the perfect words to make any deal. But I am no

poet, and that’s what it would take to describe what

happened next.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but what Shawn did

then hit me in a way I could have never prepared myself.

First, he was fast. And who would have thought the

violin played so fast could be so beautiful? I wish, I wish I

could describe it. I want to express the sounds and the

beauty, and I just can’t. And he sang! He sang while he

played, and he moved, and his foot pounded the stage, and

shit if I wasn’t crying.

I saw something else I hadn’t really noticed. His arms

were strong. He just might have beaten me in that arm

wrestling contest. His biceps and triceps flexed and bounced

like the hair on his bow.

Some kind of ballad I guessed. Traditional? About a ship

that sank years ago and mermaids dressed in tears. I was

frozen, and I wanted him to go on forever.

His voice…. Oh, it wasn’t gorgeous. I’m sure there are

those who could say it was flawed technically. But the

passion! It poured out of him like the music from his beat-up

violin, like his heart was breaking and it was all he could do

to tell us his story. Those eyes that had so enchanted me

were filled with something I don’t even know how to explain.

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Pain and love and joy. That doesn’t do it justice, but it was

obvious in that moment that playing the violin wasn’t a

hobby for Shawn. It seemed to connect him to something

higher than himself. Damn. I just don’t have the words. He

was laying his heart bare and letting us witness it.

When he drew his bow down one last time across the

strings of his instrument and the music came to a stop, the

bar was silent. Not a sound. Not one.

Then came the applause, and I knew who had won our

little bet—I knew, even if the bar’s patrons disagreed with

me.

Tears were flowing down my face, and my throat was

locked, and I was in love. To the marrow. Heart deep. Every

word I’d sung and more.

And now he had won, and I might never see him again.

IT WAS stupid, but I went to Derringer’s the next day. It

broke unspoken rules, but I wanted to see this man of

Shawn’s. I wanted to see his face when he found out the bed

was his. I wanted to see if he appreciated the man who loved

him, to see if he deserved Shawn.

Fuck.

I wanted to see Shawn one more time.

I got there first, made sure Mr. Derringer knew the bed

was Shawn’s, and told him it had to be delivered today.

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” he said, playing with his

glasses and speaking in that fingernails-on-blackboard voice.

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“I don’t give a shit what day it is,” I said. “I know you

can find someone to do it. That’s what you do. And I’ll pay

whatever I have to pay.”

“Why are you doing this?” Mr. Derringer asked.

“That’s not your concern,” I said.

“El?”

I turned, and there was Shawn. He was wearing that

peacoat he’d been wearing the day we met. Even the shoes.

“Hey, Shawn,” I said, my heart pounding in my chest.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Just a few last things I had to do,” I said. “It is

Christmas Eve, and like a lot of idiots, I’ve waited to the last

minute to get the last of my shopping done.”

Shawn nodded. “Is he going to be upset?”

“Who?” I asked.

“Your boyfriend,” he said.

I took a deep breath. “You know, I don’t know that we’re

still together,” I said. “So it’s perfect you won.”

“What happened?” he asked, and I could see the

genuine concern on his face, heart right out there on his

sleeve like always.

It was all I could do not to look away. “I realized I was in

love with someone else,” I said.

Silence ruled for a moment while I prayed for the

impossible.

He knew. He had to know. Didn’t he know?

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He knows, said my inner voice. And he is in love with

someone else. Don’t make this worse than it has to be.

I had to try, I told myself. Otherwise, I’d wonder forever.

Imagine, that voice responded. El in love. Who would

have thought?

“I guess it is a good thing I won, then,” Shawn said, his

voice suddenly dead, his face void of expression. “You can’t

give someone something like that when… you don’t love

him.”

I did give the man I love that bed, I thought. But of

course I didn’t say that.

“I hope your man loves it,” I said. “I hope he loves it, and

you two make beautiful love, and he asks you to move in

with him, and you have everything you’ve wanted all your

life.”

Why couldn’t I read him? He always wore his emotions

right out there for me to see. Why did he suddenly close up?

“I… I… Elliot… El… I….”

“Yes?” I asked, feeling like my heart was just ready to

burst.

“I… ah… thank you, El. For everything. I do hope we are

going to be friends.”

“We can be as far as I’m concerned. No hard feelings

here. Hey, I’m done with my man.”

He smiled and then surged forward and hugged me. He

hugged me tight, and goddamn if I didn’t get hard. Stupid!

“Thank you,” he whispered.

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“El? Shawn?” came a voice, interrupting our moment.

“Oh, fuck!”

Shawn and I pulled away and turned.

Why, it was Steve. What was he doing here?

“Steve?” I said.

“Steve,” Shawn said.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Steve. “I told you the

bed sold.”

Shawn turned to me. “You know Steve?” he asked.

“Fuck me running,” Steve said.

“Yes,” I said. “He’s my… he was my boyfriend.”

Shawn’s

mouth

dropped

open.

“Steve

is

your

boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” I said, still too stupid to see what was

happening.

“My Steve is your boyfriend?”

“Your Steve?” I asked.

“Oh goddamn Jesus Christ,” Steve said.

Finally it hit me.

I turned back to the man who didn’t know that it was

over between us. Especially now. “You’re seeing the both of

us?” I said.

Steve was as pale as paper.

“Steve?” Shawn asked. “You mean, this whole time?”

“I… I….” Steve looked like he’d faint.

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“You fuck!” Shawn shouted. “Liar! You fucking cheat! Do

you know what I was doing for you? Do you have any idea?

And you’ve been cheating on me?”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “I really wanted that bed,

babe,” he said.

Shawn strode up to him, and before I could stop him,

hauled off and slapped Steve. “You ass! Get out. Get the hell

out of here.”

Steve turned to me. “Daddy?” he said.

“You heard the man,” I said, stomach rolling. “Leave.”

“Well what about you two?” he shouted. “I saw you! I

saw the way you were hugging. Don’t you judge me! You two

were cheating too,” he said and ran out of the store, leaving

Shawn and I standing there with that huge empty bed.

“YOU okay?” I asked Shawn. We were sitting on the edge of

the bed that had been the center of our lives for the last

several days.

Shawn nodded. “You know… it’s funny. But I am. It’s a

relief. Whoa! I said it out loud.”

“A relief?” I asked.

“Yeah. Because I wasn’t in love with him. I’ve known it

for awhile. I knew I was making a mistake. Just like I knew it

was a mistake when I married Karin, but I did it anyway. I

don’t know if I ever loved him.”

“You’re not?”

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“I was in love with the idea of being in love,” he