Something Like Thunder (40 page)

“He volunteered often in his youth. Just wait until you see him shirtless in person. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Time for that later. Come along!”

Nathaniel followed Marcello grudgingly down a hallway and into a sitting room full of books. The only thing stopping him from calling it a library was the existence of one elsewhere in the house.

“You’ve been an absolute blessing,” Marcello said. “I didn’t hold back when you first came into my employ, and you’ve met every challenge with absolute ferocity. You’re twice the man Kenneth ever was. Much easier on the eyes too.”

“Thanks,” Nathaniel said, “but if this is you trying to seduce me…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Marcello said, stopping at a table and spinning around. “The best cake is the one you never nibble on. Speaking of which…” He gestured at a table, where a cupcake was burning with a single candle. Next to it was a bottle decorated with a red ribbon. “Happy birthday!”

Nathaniel was speechless.

Marcello smiled. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

“To be honest, I forgot myself!”

“Here, make a wish before the frosting gets singed. I had to run down the hall after lighting it. I almost passed out.”

Nathaniel, still overwhelmed, scrabbled for an appropriate wish.
More of this.
That would do. He liked his life. Plenty of challenges, none of them emotional. What more could he want? One thing came to mind as he blew out the dangerously low candle, but he quickly shoved it aside.

“No doubt you’re watching your carbs,” Marcello said, eying the cupcake longingly.

“Knock yourself out,” Nathaniel said. He picked up the bottle of wine instead, jaw dropping once he read the label. “I know how much this costs!”

“Prove it,” Marcello said playfully.

“Upwards of one thousand dollars.”

“Correct! You know, it really is astounding how much you’ve learned in the past few years. Nobody comes by such things naturally, no matter how much they might pretend to. I’ve spent decades sampling an unimaginable number of spirits, just to familiarize myself with the subject.”

“Alternatively, you can just memorize the names and descriptions.” Nathaniel continued to study the bottle, unable to imagine ever drinking it. “I appreciate the gesture, but I think I’d rather have the money.”

Marcello chuckled. “I thought you’d say that, which is why you’ll find another little treat on your next paycheck.”

“Thank you,” Nathaniel said, looking up. “Not for the money or the wine. I like both, but thank you for trusting me. I was naïve when I asked for this job. You could have started me out in some lowly position or ignored me completely, but you trusted me with—well,
everything
.”

“Oh I still have a few secrets,” Marcello said, “and if I remember correctly, at the time I owed you a favor. I did see potential in you though. Loyalty too, which is a truly rare commodity. Working with you has been an absolute pleasure. Of all the assets this company has, you are my most treasured.”

Nathaniel felt moved but did his best not to show it. “You sure this isn’t just you trying to get into my pants?”

“As I said…” Marcello lifted the cupcake and took a bite.

Nathaniel considered the bottle fondly, appreciating what it symbolized more than the actual contents. “Thank you,” he murmured, setting it down again. “Now it’s time for me to keep proving myself to you.”

“Excellent! Don’t forget about our young lovers tonight. When the shut-in starts, William and Jason will be venturing into the house alone. They know where to go. If you see two waiters sneaking around, don’t sic that dog of yours on them.”

“He’s out back,” Nathaniel said. “I won’t forget.”

He returned to the kitchen, and while Tim had clearly set the waiters in motion, not everything was up to Nathaniel’s standards. He barked orders, telling men to stand up straight or pull their pants up over their underwear lines or in the case of one vaguely familiar face, to stop poking at the
hors d'oeuvres
. He was blond, pale-skinned, and had an impressive physique, but tonight that didn’t count for much.

“William, right?”

The guy looked up in surprise and smiled. “Yeah!”

Nathaniel didn’t return the gesture. “Why are you touching the food?”

“I’m trying to figure out what it is.”

“
Brandade de Morue au Gratin,”
Nathaniel said. “You need to tell the guests what you are presenting them with when offering it.”

“Brandy morey gray tong?”

He sighed. He might not be fluent in French, but this job had forced him to learn how to pronounce most words. “
Brandade de Morue au Gratin.”

“Brandaddy de morey gratin?”

Nathaniel was seriously tempted to tell the guy to fuck off and go wait for his lover. Instead he repeated himself until William got the pronunciation right. Then he took him by the shoulders, turned him toward the ballroom, and gave him a gentle push. After making sure no other waiters were loitering around, Nathaniel went into the ballroom to greet guests and make sure everything was going smoothly.

He spotted Tim, a tray of champagne glasses balanced expertly on one hand, his smile just as sparkling. He would stop, hand out drinks, flirt, and move on. Perfect. At least Nathaniel wouldn’t have to worry about him. He stopped by the stage, checking the audio equipment. Then he made his way to the back of the room to confirm that the digital projector was properly primed. He berated the technician there, just to make sure he knew his job, then moved through the crowd, stopping to speak with some of the bigger names while keeping an eye on refreshments moving around the room. When he noticed more empty glasses than filled, Nathaniel took one of the younger waiters by the arm to stop him.

“The champagne is running a little dry,” he said. “Better get another tray from the kitchen.”

The kid looked up at him with huge eyes, as if he was being chastised by a stern parent. Or maybe it was recognition, because there was something familiar about that face. If they did know each other, it wasn’t well enough for them to stand there gawking. “Did you hear me? We need more champagne. Marcello will be asking for money in half an hour, and we want everyone feeling generous.”

The young waiter worked his jaw, finally managing to speak. “I’m not old enough to serve alcohol.”

“Oh, sorry. In that case just head to the kitchen and let them know. Tell any waiters on your way too. All right?”

The kid nodded. “No problem.” Then he pivoted and headed toward the kitchen. Nathaniel watched him go, the familiarity nagging at him until an older man extended a hand toward him. One of their more generous contributors. Nathaniel tried to put the matter out of mind and focus on playing host, but when he risked another glance toward the kitchen, he saw Marcello speaking with the young waiter. The conversation seemed more involved than just the champagne shortage. What were the names of the two star-crossed waiters? William, obviously, but who was the other?

“I’d like to make a donation before the actual shut-in,” Nathaniel’s conversation partner was saying. “I haven’t stayed up this late since my sixties!”

This reminded him to focus on the true priority of the evening. Nathaniel accepted a check, issued a tax-deductable receipt, and escorted the man outside to his car. When he returned inside, Marcello was on stage, announcing the shut-in. The waiters were swarming toward the kitchen, taking the food and drink with them. One whole hour without snacks and booze. How would any of them survive? Once the room was clear of staff, Nathaniel locked the doors personally, then nodded to one of the technicians, who lowered the lights.

He looked toward the stage, where Marcello and Tim had just finished speaking about the cause. The digital projector switched on. Nathaniel watched to make sure the edges were aligned and the image wasn’t skewed. Everything looked good, so he allowed himself to relax by leaning against a wall. That didn’t last long. A motion to his immediate right caught his eye, someone yanking on the kitchen door. He sighed. There was always one person who couldn’t wait to break the rules.

“Can I help you?” he asked, pushing away from the wall.

The guy was slender, his skin dark, the hair buzzed close to his head. Whoever he was, he barely spared Nathaniel a glance before he started yanking on the door again. “I need out.”

“Didn’t you hear the announcement?” No response. “Hey, are you listening to me?”

The guy stopped pulling on the door long enough for Nathaniel to size him up. His features were striking. Enough so that he could be a model. This thought brought a name to mind: Kelly Phillips. Marcello had mentioned him a few times, bemoaning that Kelly wasn’t interested in becoming a model. Now, in person, Nathaniel could understand his boss’s agony. The shadows seem to lie across Kelly’s face contentedly, having found the most beautiful place to rest.

Nathaniel’s heart didn’t swell with desire because his brain had put the pieces of Kelly’s sad story together. This wasn’t difficult, considering he’d been in a similar situation once. Some claim the truth can set you free, but Nathaniel had felt shackled by it ever since he saw Rebecca kissing Caesar. Love was cruel. Only a lucky few spent their entire lives without learning that truth. He often wished someone had kept him from discovering it.

Nathaniel stepped sideways, putting himself between Kelly and the exit.

“Even if this door wasn’t locked, it leads to the kitchen, which is off limits.” He threw the kid an excuse to walk away with his dignity intact. “Are you looking for the restroom?”

“Yes,” Kelly said.

“Other side of the room.”

Kelly lifted one of the two crutches supporting him, the kind that attached to the forearms. “Is it handicap-accessible?”

Nathaniel glanced down, noticing that one pant leg was folded and flat just above the knee. “I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I need support bars mounted on the wall,” Kelly insisted.

Then he kept rambling about everything else he required, playing up his handicap, but Nathaniel wasn’t buying it. “I’ll support you.”

Eyes widened in response. “What?”

“I’ll accompany you to the restroom, and if need be, I’ll hold you up.”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. “Do you have any idea how offensive that is?”

“I don’t care. You’re not getting through this door.” Time to cut through the bullshit. “What is it that you really want?”

Kelly sighed. “There’s someone in there that I need to talk to.”

“Need?”

“Yes! Need!”

Nathaniel snorted. “Trust me, there isn’t anyone you need.”

“Oh really. How would you know that?”

“Because I’ve put a lot of thought into the subject. Hold on.”

He took the keys from his pocket. Part of him was tempted to toss them to Kelly and look away. Instead he unlocked the door and slipped inside, shutting and locking it before he could be followed. Then he sighed. William and his lover were off doing who knows what, while Kelly was left clawing at a closed door, wanting to see with his own eyes what he already knew in his heart.

Nathaniel felt sorry for him, which he didn’t like because pity was a useless emotion that never helped anyone. But maybe something else could. He hurried from the kitchen, down the hall to the small reading room. He grabbed his birthday present, then snagged two glasses on the way back. When he opened the door again, he almost expected to be attacked with crutches. Instead Kelly looked him over, noticing the wine.

“What’s this supposed to be?” he asked.

“Come find out.” Nathaniel locked the door and gestured for Kelly to follow. Then he walked toward the back of the room. When he reached an empty table and pulled out a chair, Kelly wasn’t far behind. Nathaniel sat across from him, working on getting the bottle open using the pocket knife he carried. While the knife had its own corkscrew, this was hardly the way to treat such an expensive wine. Then again, today was his birthday, and Nathaniel intended to enjoy himself a little. He poured two glasses.

“I’m not old enough to drink,” Kelly said.

“Oh no,” Nathaniel deadpanned. “I hope I don’t lose my job over this.”

“You could be arrested. Believe me.”

“So be it.” Nathaniel pushed one of the glasses toward him. “Drink up.”

Kelly stared. “What kind of a bouncer are you?”

“I’m not a bouncer. My name is Nathaniel, and I’m the coordinator of this event. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“No.”

“Good. Now shut up and take a drink so I can have one too. Otherwise, you’ll think I’m rude.”

Kelly continued to stare, but now with a hint of amusement. Finally he picked up the glass and held it aloft. “Here’s to not getting what you want.”

Nathaniel nodded his approval and took a hearty swig. The wine, despite its price tag, still tasted like wine. He turned his attention to the front of the room, judging how far along the presentation was. Then he started doing mental calculations on how much each glass of wine would cost, then each sip.

“It’s great what you’re doing here,” Kelly said to get his attention.