Long Way Home by Carolyn Gray (5 page)

it wasn’t the thin line of beard. Lee studied his face, his body, and racked his brain—he knew

this man. Where from, he couldn’t imagine. They encountered thousands of people on their

travels, some over and over again. Maybe the dancer was from days gone by, maybe during his

orchestra days? He had a flash of those memories, the many faces all purposely forgotten. He

wasn’t sure, couldn’t be positive, but he knew that face.

“You look as if you recognize him,” Nick said. “Do you?”

“I’m not sure, but yes, he looks familiar.” More mystery to add to this whole affair.

Nick stared at the names on the poster. “Well, could be any of these. Too hard to figure

out. Mark Anders? Steve Rafters? Jason Henry?”

“No,” Lee said. None of the names set off alarms in his mind.

Mutt placed his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “We need to get to our seats.”

“Okay.” He straightened. “Maybe it’ll come to you later. We’ll get a program.”

“There aren’t any,” said a woman next to them as they walked in. “Budget cuts, you know.

They tried to end the live music as well, but the musicians protested so much and got all the city

behind them, and miraculously the orchestra was safe.” She snorted. “Canned music—can you

imagine such a horror?”

Nick laid a hand on her shoulder, his eyes wide. “No, ma’am, I certainly can’t, not at all.

You’re right—horror.”

Lee’s mind was still back on the poster. He wanted to see it more closely. See that dancer,

whoever he was. They made their way in, Mutt in the lead. He seemed relaxed today—more than

usual, really—but given this audience, it wasn’t surprising. No one seemed to realize who they

were, which was a relief. Nick usually stood out like a sore thumb, but this was a ballet crowd,

not a pop-music crowd.

He heard a giggle behind them.
On second thought…
He turned and saw two young girls,

maybe twelve or thirteen years old, watching them, questions in their eyes, and he lifted an

eyebrow at them. They squealed, making Nick turn around. He saw them and waved, laughing as

they bounced up and down on their toes before their parents whisked them away. Lee figured

they wouldn’t be thinking about the ballet at all tonight but rather about how they’d seen the lead

singer for Dream.
Oh, ecstasy!

The trio made their way to their seats, guided by an usher. “Nice seats,” Lee said to Nick.

“Yeah, no kidding. Whoever sent these to you must have some bucks on them.” Despite

having millions of dollars, Nick would never stop being that kid who’d once lived in a shelter.

Long Way Home

19

Mutt took the folding chair that had been added into the box for him.

“You okay, Mutt?”

“No worries. Beats standing for hours.”

Lee listened to them talking for a few moments but got back to watching the crowd. He

spied the little girls talking happily, telling their mom who they’d seen. She looked around—

probably a fan too—but didn’t see them.

They were seated in a box, a little to the left but with a fantastic view. He settled back in

his chair, which was no doubt original to the theater—people were smaller back when the theater

had been built. Below, the orchestra was tuning their instruments. He was glad to hear they’d

won their fight and were still part of the ballet. He couldn’t imagine otherwise.

No, he
could
imagine. He’d been through many a situation where budgets were tight, and

something always had to go. Programs, then orchestra, you name it—anything but the dancers

really didn’t matter. Canned music wasn’t so bad, not for modern dance, and he wondered if

there would be some tonight anyway.

Probably.

“Hey, Lee, look,” Nick said, pointing as a bass player entered the orchestra pit.

Lee’s mind wasn’t on the pit or anything around him. He was eager now for the ballet to

start. He wanted to see that dancer.

At last, the crowd began to settle as the lights dimmed. The orchestra’s first notes filled the

theater, and Lee took a deep breath. The curtains opened to a dark stage. He didn’t realize he had

held that breath until a man in a suit walked out onto the stage.

Settling back, Lee watched as the lights came up, blue and soft, and a single female dancer

came out on the stage. He felt a bit of disappointment at that.

“What’re you smiling about?” Nick asked, and Lee immediately adopted his usual

disinterested demeanor. He had to be sure that Nick or Mutt didn’t catch any unexpected

reactions on his part. He was glad of the dark, glad he didn’t have to act a certain way—or not

really, anyway.

The orchestra’s music swelled, and the audience quieted to a still hush, much as they did

for Dream when Nick was onstage. Lee relaxed as he watched each number, dancers coming in

and out for their parts, but none of them was the one from the poster. Lee wondered what role the

man had in tonight’s performance.

Piece after piece floated by. When another one began, this time with two men, Lee realized

one was the dancer he’d been watching for. He leaned forward a little, then shifted back as he

felt Nick’s gaze on him. He pointedly didn’t look at Nick, just settled into his seat and watched

nonchalantly, though he felt anything but.

It was amazing watching dancers fly. He’d always been fascinated by it, at least since the

first time he’d gone to a ballet, and had even gone through a brief period of adoration for dancers

like Rudolf Nureyev, Mikhail Baryshnikov, the others who became famous—or notorious—in

their own right. The ones that a guy like him, who kept his inner thoughts extremely private and

self-contained, could watch and enjoy without notice from anyone else. He’d seen
White Nights

dozens of times to watch Baryshnikov dance.

Didn’t matter to him, and probably not to millions of others, that Baryshnikov was straight.

20

Carolyn Gray

But that was as far as he’d let his fascination go. Tightly in check it was and would remain.

He was not the kind of guy to have a partner, male or female, of any kind. His failure with Maya

proved that. Any sex he had was quick and anonymous and never more than once with the same

person. He was a drifter, a musician, always on the move, with no place to call home, and he

liked it that way. He had never needed much, only his bass, his acoustic guitar, clean clothes, and

a decent hotel. It was a good life—thanks to being part of Dream and believing in Nick and

Brandon, a very good life indeed.

He had a hell of a lot in his bank accounts.

The dancer he couldn’t place was now leaping into the air, doing a series of leaps that only

someone truly gifted could achieve. He wondered why this dancer was stuck in a place like

Dallas. His form was exquisite, his control incredible. The heights he reached made the crowd

gasp a little. Nick leaned forward, entranced, and Lee had to fight not to do the same

Mutt poked Nick. “Easy, boy.”

It was dark enough in the theater that Lee couldn’t really see Nick’s face well, but he

figured the singer was blushing a little.

Lee expected he himself was blushing as he watched the other dancer take his turn. He

realized then it was a dance-off they were doing, each besting the other.
Nice.

Lee watched, a bit mesmerized, as the second dancer showed off his prowess and skill. Not

bad, though not as amazing as his own dancer, who made a series of low, impossible leaps,

fascinating in their execution, then a series of rapid, dizzying turns that would make Lee sick.

Moments later, too soon, it was over. The audience exploded, and the two dancers came to

the edge of the stage, holding hands. Nick chuckled at that, and Lee had to admit, it

was…refreshing.

“Gay boys.” Nick sighed dreamily.

“Braaanddoonnn,” Mutt whispered at him.

“You’re my bodyguard, not my keeper,” Nick whispered back. “Don’t tell Brandon.”

Mutt snorted. “That you were salivating like Pavlov’s prized pooch and I had to drag you

from the edge of the balcony?”

“You did not! I was not!”

“Afraid so, Nick,” Lee said, smiling over the singer’s head at Mutt. He almost missed

looking at the dancer again. The man was still onstage and had looked up at their box. The

expression on his face… He looked…frightened. And he was looking straight at Lee.

“Did you see that?” Nick asked as the dancer tore from the stage with his partner.

“Odd. Maybe you scared him. Your hair
is
a bit spike-crazy tonight,” Mutt said.

“Well, whatever. That was weird.”

“Maybe he hates pop music,” Mutt said. “Nothing personal.”

“That’s personal!”

Lee watched where the dancer had disappeared. He stared, actually, his heart thumping

wildly, his neck icy-hot like when he had the flu. He felt sick, and it wasn’t until Nick started to

turn toward him that he remembered to school his expression.

“You see that, Lee?”

“Yes, I did.”

Long Way Home

21

“He was the one you thought you recognized. Maybe he recognized
you
.”

Mutt leaned closer to Lee as the next piece was starting. “Do you know who that was?”

But Lee couldn’t answer. Not yet. He had to know if the tickets sent to him were because

of that dancer. If so, then someone was messing with him, possibly with them both. But why?

22

Carolyn Gray

Chapter Four

The show went on, the other two forgetting about the dancer’s odd behavior. Lee couldn’t.

The performance was almost over, and Lee was sincerely grateful it was coming to a close. He

wanted to get back to his hotel room, alone, to collect his thoughts, which were currently a

mixed-up jumble of disbelief and wariness. He knew who the dancer was, all right. Coincidence?

He hoped so. To consider that it might not be unnerved him.

It was obvious Gevan had had no idea he’d be there tonight and hadn’t been the one to

send the tickets. Because that was, unmistakably, Gevan Sinclair, the younger brother of his

childhood best friend. His best friend who, when they were thirteen, was taken by a stranger,

never to be seen again. Lee had seen it happen.

Stefan had long been presumed dead. When he was older, Lee came to understand why it

was Stefan who had been taken, not him. With his blond hair and blue eyes, Stefan had been

beautiful. He and Lee had been best friends since they were five, and though Stefan had become

popular and sought after by everyone, he’d never left Lee behind. Where Stefan went, Lee went.

That’s how it was.

Lee shouldn’t have been there that day. His mother had been too hungover to take him to

his guitar lessons, so he’d decided to ride his bike instead. Never mind the guitar studio had been

almost a thirty-minute bike ride away. He hated to miss his lessons.

When he’d passed the park and seen Stefan playing with his dog, a little mutt named

Sparks, he’d stopped to talk to him. The rest of what had happened was just choppy, fractured

images in his mind. He’d tried over the years to piece it all together but no longer honestly knew

what was real, what was imagined, what had been put into his head by others. He had continued

on but looked back in time to see a man talking to Stefan. The man’s face was a blur to him; he’d

been unable to come up with enough detail to get a good description. That had plagued him ever

since, his inability to remember. The man had been holding Sparks, then undid his leash and sent

him off.

The man saw Lee coming back and came after him. His bike was turned the wrong way,

and he was carrying his bass guitar, unwieldy while walking, near impossible to carry on a bike.

He tripped over his bike when he tried to turn it, but he couldn’t drop his precious bass. He’d had

to beg and borrow and, yes, even steal quarters from his mom’s purse to get enough money to

buy it.

Lee didn’t remember anything else of that night.

When he’d woken sometime later, he was in the park, his bicycle and bass gone. Bruised,

cut, ribs broken, his left eye nearly swollen shut, he’d pushed himself to his feet and stumbled

toward the street, where he’d collapsed. Next time he woke up, he was in the hospital, alone. The

days after he’d finally gone home were a blur. He couldn’t remember much except for the

endless questions he hadn’t been able to answer. When it was clear Stefan would not be found,

Lee had wanted to die. Without Stefan, life was unbearable.

Long Way Home

23

Lee closed his eyes and pushed the memory away. He’d not gone down that path in many

years, but seeing Gev again brought it all back. Or most of it. The pain, the confusion, the

overwhelming loss. It tore through him still.

“Lee? You okay?”

He opened his eyes, realized Nick and Mutt were both looking at him oddly. He took a

deep breath and pushed his reactions back into their box in his mind. “Fine. Sorry. Just a little

tired.”

Nick yawned gracelessly. “Had enough?”