I'm Your Man (45 page)

“So his brother called him a fag after having been taunted all day, and Nicky hit him. Chuck hit him back, and the next thing I knew, the two of them were rolling all over the floor, knocking things over, trying to kill each other. They even broke some of my Lladro statues!”

I suppressed my urge to pull out my checkbook, knowing it was the kind of thing my father or Shane would have done.

“Oh! And tell your uncle what you did in your social studies class,” Beverly said. Nick looked at the floor and mumbled something, so Beverly asked him to repeat himself.

Sounding defeated, yet more audible, Nick said, “I had to do a report on England's main export.”

Beverly set up the scene by saying, “So he stood up in front of his class and said—go on. Tell him.”

Again, Nick mumbled at the floor.

“What?” I asked.

“George Michael's ass,” Nick repeated with more clarity to the floor. “I said that Britain's main export was George Michael's ass.”

The sound of a dish breaking in the kitchen caused Beverly to turn her head. When she did, I regained my composure and held back my laughter by biting my finger.

Gavin stepped into the room and said, “Sorry about that. We're down to service for five now.”

Beverly looked mildly annoyed by his interruption and said, “I'm at the end of my rope, Blaine. Talk to him. Something. Excuse me. I need to freshen up.”

I directed her to the bathroom. When she left, Gavin whispered, “George Michael's ass. That's brilliant, Nick. Keep him, Blaine. Pay the lady. Whatever you have to do. This kid belongs here. Not in Wisconsin.”

“Gavin, he's my nephew, not a puppy. This isn't one of those ‘Gee, Mom, can we keep him?' things. Where would we put him? Nobody said anything about me raising a teenager.” It occurred to me that we were having this discussion about Nick as if he weren't in the room. I looked at him, and he continued to look at the floor. “Considering everything, I can't believe they want me anywhere near you. Whose idea was it for you to come here?”

“Mine,” he said.

“Did you just need to get away from the pressure? Do you need to talk to me privately? Should I ask your mother to give us some time alone?”

“I'm not running away from Eau Claire,” Nick said quietly. “I had a plan.”

“Go on.”

“I got accepted to Broadway High School for the Arts. Mom and Dad didn't know I'd applied, but they said they'd pay what my scholarship doesn't cover.”

“Scholarship? What did you get a scholarship for?” I couldn't help feeling proud.

“Visual arts. I paint.” He briefly looked up. “They offered me a partial scholarship, but the term doesn't start until January.”

“Is it a boarding school? A day school?”

“Day school,” he said, dropping his eyes again.

I began to understand and said, “You need a place to live.”

He looked up again, and his expression held an admission and a plea. “I don't want to go back to Eau Claire.” I couldn't argue with that. I didn't either. “I'll sleep on the floor. I'll clean the apartment if you want.”

“Careful, kiddo,” Gavin warned with a smile. “You're stepping on toes.”

I drew a deep breath and let it out, hoping Gavin noticed that I was practicing my breathing. I thought about the possible ramifications of Nick's request. I didn't want to involve him in the mess with Daniel. It would be too much for someone his age to handle. But Daniel and I had decided there wouldn't be any more interviews, and the invitations to do public appearances had been waning. I couldn't stand the thought of sending my nephew back to face more conflict.

Beverly returned, having applied a fresh coat of makeup. She looked softer and somewhat calmer. “Blaine, I'm sorry if I came off a little strong, but we really are at our wits' end. We've never dealt with anything like this before.”

“Nick just told me about his scholarship. Is this what you and Shane want? For him to stay here with me?”

“Nicky's father and I don't know how to handle this. Maybe no parent does. But the conflict is affecting all three of my sons. Maybe a separation will give all of us time to learn how to deal with it and each other.”

“But if school doesn't start until January—”

“I could finish this semester at a public school,” Nick interjected.

“Blaine, this doesn't mean I don't love Nicky. I worry about him every time he walks out the door. I worry about how the kids at school will treat him.”

“Kids are the same everywhere,” I said. “What makes you think it will be different here?”

“The difference is that he won't have to put up with the same thing at home. I'd worry less about Nicky being in Manhattan with you, even without me watching over him, than I would if he were at home.”

I knew what she wasn't saying. She couldn't count on my brother to help her protect their son from his own family. I even respected her for not disparaging his father in front of Nick.

I regarded him carefully and finally said, “I want you both to understand that I wouldn't see Nick as an imposition. I'm touched that you trust me to provide the acceptance and care I wish I'd had at his age.”

“I do trust you,” Beverly said.

“My house. My rules. You do your part, and you can stay. Okay?”

“Okay,” Nick said quietly, but his face lit the room with a smile. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Beverly gave me a helpless look and said, “I'm staying at the Park Savoy. His luggage is there.”

“I can go with you and pick it up,” Gavin offered.

“Okay,” Beverly said with a combination of resignation and relief. “Will you be able to help me find the right public school to enroll him in?”

I stifled my immediate impulse to call Violet and said, “Of course.”

Beverly walked to Nick and touched his face. Their eyes met for a moment, and she put her arms around him, then finally let go and turned to face me. “Thank you, Blaine.”

“Don't thank me yet. You may get him back.”

One side of Nick's mouth turned up, and I smiled at him. We both knew I wouldn't be sending him back to Eau Claire.

I
t wasn't as hard as I'd feared to adjust to Nick's move to Manhattan. Beverly and I were able to enroll him in school, and I began to feel a grudging respect for her when I realized that she hadn't lied. She wasn't dumping Nick. She was trying to find the best way to take pressure off her entire family. Since Shane wasn't much help, I saw the two of us as allies on Nick's behalf.

Once Beverly flew back to Eau Claire, we settled into a routine. Although he slept on the sofa, I told Nick to feel free to use the computer, television, and stereo in my bedroom during the afternoons and early evenings after school. I remembered how much I'd liked privacy when I was a teenager. As small as my apartment was, Nick and Gavin needed the ability to close doors between them. I wasn't sure if they did, since whenever I came home, they were usually in the kitchen talking and laughing while Nick helped Gavin get dinner ready.

I found myself looking forward to getting home every night. The two of them had hit it off, and Gavin was more relaxed with Nick around. In looking after my nephew, he and I became more like partners than employer-employee. I figured Nick liked interacting with a gay man who wasn't related to him and didn't know he'd always been regarded as the problem child. He didn't even mind the way Gavin teased him about his mode of dress, calling him “Gloom-cookie” and “Gothboy.”

Jeremy called with a suggestion that turned out to be helpful. Since Nick was interested in art, and Blythe was an artist, he told me to hook the two of them up. She'd been the person who helped Adam navigate Manhattan when he'd first visited the city, and because she and Nick were closer in age, as well as sharing similar interests, she was a good guide for him.

It was also great having Nick to focus on after Gretchen and Gwendy left for Happy Hollow. They stayed in town only long enough to vote, and considering the fiasco the election turned into, I had to admit that it had been a good idea for Gretchen to get out of the city. She took her politics personally. Even though she'd had a feeling Gore wasn't a shoo-in, as evidenced by her nervousness over the stock market and our financial portfolios, she was nonetheless appalled at the strange chain of events set in motion by the hotly contested presidential race. At least she had the comfort of knowing that Hillary was our new senator.

My secret feeling about the election was relief. Hanging chads and confusing ballots were the news of the day, even in the gay media, and the Daniel/Blaine story faded into well-deserved obscurity. After a few days' respite from our drama, I called Daniel, who sounded a little leery when he heard my voice.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking,” I said. “I owe you an apology. Regardless of how things stood between us, I should have told you about the baby before I made my decision.”

After I relayed some of the thoughts I'd had following our last fight, Daniel said, “Thank you for calling and telling me that. How did things ever get so out of hand?”

“When we were together, or are you talking about the past few months?”

“All of it, I guess. I'm so glad we stopped doing the publicity stuff.”

“So am I. Too much stress.”

“For you and me both,” he said. “Let's give each other some breathing room, okay? Before we ruin any chance we have of being friends again.”

“Sure,” I said, knowing he was probably right but still feeling disappointed. Friends. I supposed that was better than nothing.

By the time Thanksgiving came and we hadn't talked for a couple of weeks, I wasn't so sure. Thanksgiving was when we'd always officially celebrated our beginning as a couple, and I didn't even know where he was. I tried to call him, but when I got the machine, I hung up without leaving a message.

I'd offered Gavin time off to go to Baltimore, but he insisted that Nick needed to have a festive Thanksgiving, including turkey and all the trimmings. I gave in, not wanting my nephew to be affected by my melancholy. I'd noticed Nick's tendency to watch me too closely now that he had all the facts about my breakup and farce with Daniel, as well as the news about the impending birth of my child. I didn't want him to feel like he'd traded one dysfunctional family for another.

That night, Nick was napping, stuffed from dinner, and Gavin had gone out to meet friends. After I hung up from a call to Gretchen, I had no idea what to do with myself. Dexter jumped on the windowsill, and I walked over to pet him, looking down at Daniel's dark patio. I felt restless, but I wasn't in the mood to go out. I had no interest in finding some other lonely soul who was spending the holiday feeling nostalgic for better days. Not to mention I hadn't tricked since the day Bonnie's detective, or whatever the hell he was, had announced that I'd gone home with someone from bodyWorks.

Besides, I wasn't really in the mood for sex. I was in the mood for a friend. I picked up the phone to call Ethan, wondering how he'd spent his Thanksgiving.

“Quietly,” Ethan said after I asked. “How was Nick? Any sign that he's homesick?”

“Not unless he's eating to cover it up,” I said.

Ethan laughed and said, “I remember that age. I ate everything in sight.”

“I still do,” I admitted. “I'm sure it'll catch up with me one day. I'll end up sloppy and alone.”

“Oh, you're in one of those kinds of moods,” Ethan said. “I hate those.”

“Are you ever in a bad mood?” I asked. “Don't you just light a candle to the Buddha or something?”

“It's better to light a candle than—”

“Sit in the dark and sulk,” I finished. “Why don't you bring your candle over here?”

“Sure,” Ethan said. “I'll bring maize and tobacco, too. It'll be just like the first Thanksgiving.”

“Good. I've got blankets and smallpox.”

“I can hardly wait,” Ethan said.

I straightened up the apartment as best I could and uncorked a bottle of wine. Just to be on the safe side, I heated water and pulled out some of Gavin's herbal tea. Then I checked on Nick, who was still sprawled across my bed, sound asleep. I took out a blanket and put it over him, smiling at how young and fragile he looked, in spite of the earrings and black bracelets. It was probably only a matter of time until he asked for a tattoo. At least I hoped he would ask first.

Dexter had followed me into the bedroom and was busy pretending he had no interest in jumping on the bed. “Good idea,” I whispered. “You can stay in here. Charming as you are, I don't need a chaperone.”

I softly shut the bedroom door, went to the bathroom to make sure I didn't look as scruffy as Dexter, and within minutes I was letting Ethan in. He smelled of cold air when he embraced me, and I wouldn't let go. It felt so good to have a man's arms around me. When I finally pulled away, he reached into his jeans pocket and brought out a birthday candle, saying, “Would you light my candle?”

“I loved
Rent,
” I said.

“Me, too.”

“I was wondering if that was a candle in your pocket or you were just happy—”

“Don't you dare,” Ethan said, looking at the tiny candle. Then he glanced around and said, “Nice place.”

“Don't be rude. It used to seem roomy. It was definitely less cluttered. I've got to get a bigger apartment.”

Ethan took a step toward the window and asked, “Is that the one that overlooks the famous garden?”

“It's dark right now,” I said. “You can't see anything.”

“Already checked it out, huh?”

“Tea or wine?” I asked, ignoring his question.

“Wine,” Ethan said. “Maybe some tea later.” When I came back from the kitchen, he said, “Where's what's-his-name?”

“I don't know. Probably in Eau Claire.” Ethan started laughing and I said, “What?”

“I meant your assistant.”

“Oh. Gavin,” I said, blushing. “He went out with some friends tonight. Am I as pathetic as I sound?”

“It's just that mood,” Ethan said. “Why have all your friends let you spend a holiday alone?”

“We usually go to Happy Hollow for Thanksgiving, but that would be a bit much for Gretchen this year. She and Gwendy are there. Sheila and Josh are in Wisconsin. Everyone's probably at Adam and Jeremy's. But it's okay. I had a good day with Nick and Gavin.”

We sat on the sofa, and he nudged at my leg until I gave him my feet to rub. We were quiet awhile, until he said, “I saw
Rent
with Martin.”

“That name,” I groaned.

“He's the best person to see shows with.”

“I'm sure he's full of all kinds of catty stories and sordid backstage gossip.”

“A little,” Ethan admitted, “but really, he's as enthralled as a kid seeing it all for the first time. What gay man doesn't love a show? Even you loved
Rent;
don't act immune.”

After a pause I asked, “So what kind of sordid backstage gossip did he tell you?”

Ethan burst out laughing, and neither of us heard Gavin come in until he was standing in front of us.

“Hi,” he said, giving Ethan a somewhat dazed look. “You're Ethan Whitecrow.”

“I am,” Ethan confessed, his eyes still dancing.

“Ethan, this is the man who keeps me sane, Gavin Lewis.”

“It's so great to meet you,” Gavin said. “I've read your books. I practice your seven steps to Shamanic insight. It's really made a difference to my massage practice.” He looked at our glasses and said, “Let me get you some more wine.”

When he walked into the kitchen, Ethan looked at me and whispered, “He's so cute!”

Before I could answer, Gavin was back with the wine. He sat down and began asking Ethan excited questions about Shamanism. It was obvious he had no intention of disappearing to his room, and it began to dawn on me that I was the one who needed to disappear. I brooded over that a minute, then looked up as Nick came in, yawning and holding Dexter close to his chest.

“Dexter's hungry,” he said after politely acknowledging his introduction to Ethan.

“Maybe you could give him some turkey when you make yourself a sandwich,” I said wryly.

“Okay,” Nick said, trying to sound as if starvation hadn't been his reason for joining us. “Does anyone else want anything?”

“Was it free-range turkey?” Ethan asked.

“I think it lived with a sweet old lady in Scarsdale until it died of a happy old age,” I assured him.

“I'll make us a tray,” Gavin said, following Nick into the kitchen.

“I can't believe I invited you over here to get me out of a pissy mood, and you're about to elope with my manservant,” I groused.

“I promise to be a great manservant-in-law,” Ethan said. “He is totally hot.”

“Aren't you supposed to be telling me what a beautiful soul he has?”

“I was too busy looking at his hands. I'll bet he gives a great . . . massage.”

Over the next couple of hours, I actually enjoyed watching the two of them flirt under the guise of discussing their work. Nick was obviously enthralled by the energy flowing between them. But when I stifled a yawn, Ethan looked remorseful.

“I'm sorry. I lost track of time.”

Gavin, like a gracious host, protested, “No, this has been great. I could talk for hours about this stuff.”

“It's not that late,” I said. “Just because I'm a slug doesn't mean everyone else has to be. Of course, we are sitting on Nick's bed. You two should go out and talk over a drink or something.”

“Oh, no, I need to clean up,” Gavin said.

“I'll do that,” Nick volunteered. “I have to pull my weight around here.” He began gathering up dishes and went into the kitchen.

Gavin looked at Ethan, who said, “I'm not tired. Is there somewhere in the neighborhood—”

“A million of them,” I said, getting to my feet. “Anyway, Gavin, this was supposed to be your night off.”

“Let me get a heavier coat,” Gavin said and went to his room.

When I helped Ethan into his coat, he said, “You don't have to be so eager to get rid of me.”

“I'm bowing to the inevitable,” I said. He turned around and hugged me, and my hands caught for a second in his beautiful long hair. “Okay, I'll admit it. I'm a little envious. I know what he has to look forward to. But I'd be disappointed if the two of you didn't see where this leads.”

“Did you ever have a moment where you look at someone and you feel this little
yes!
inside?”

“No!” I said. “I'm kidding. It's destiny, and I don't even believe in that crap.” Ethan laughed and pulled away when Gavin came back. Gavin's look held a question, as if he was seeking permission, so I smiled and said, “If it's a late night, don't even think about getting up early. I'm sleeping in, and Nick knows his way around the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” Gavin said.

Then they were gone. I stood there a minute, bemused, and looked at Nick when he came from the kitchen.

“Did he just—are you and Ethan—”

“Friends,” I said. “I think he and Gavin would make a good couple, don't you?”

“I love New York,” Nick said. “This is exactly the way I thought it would be.”

“Me, too,” I said, remembering how scared and hopeful I'd been, and how Daniel had been the answer to all the questions I'd been afraid to ask. “And then I found out real life . . .”

“Yeah?” Nick prodded when I trailed off.