Whistling in the Dark (27 page)

As they joined a procession of motorcars idling in the refined glow of night-time Fifth Avenue, Jack mused that David certainly had the connections to land any job he liked. Jack wanted to disdain the fancy trappings, but he couldn't when he remembered this world was Sutton's, too. Scorn gave way to awe and he wished he could feel as comfortable as both David and Sutton seemed. But as he followed them into a chandelier-lit hall, he couldn't shake the notion that any moment someone would recognize him for the poor trespasser he was and have him tossed out.

Stepping gingerly on the marble floor, he took an offered glass of champagne, stuffed his free hand into his pocket, and stuck close to Sutton. They wound through the crowd, David making the occasional introduction and usually remembering to tack Jack's name to the end of it. One woman, to their surprise, bubbled with recognition and delight. "My dear!" She clutched Sutton's hand. "How are your lovely parents? I haven't seen them in years. Well, not since you were about so big--" She held a gloved hand waist high, "and giving us a recital. Will you play for us tonight? Do say you will."

David looked pleased at the suggestion, Sutton less so. "I'm not prepared--"

"Perhaps we can talk him into it," David said, slipping an arm around Sutton's shoulders. "He's become quite in demand."

"Is that so?" She seemed oblivious to the apprehension crossing like a shadow over his face.

"He's been playing all day," Jack said. "He could use a rest."

Sutton looked grateful, but David appeared not to have heard. "If our dear hostess will allow it, I'm sure Sutton would oblige us." He leaned in to whisper something in Sutton's ear.

Twenty minutes later, guests crowded the music room and Sutton had taken the last remaining seat, at the grand piano. Jack waved encouragingly and a fleeting smile lightened Sutton's face. As the room went quiet and the moment stretched out, Jack wondered if he would decide he wasn't ready, after all, to play for an audience with more rigid tastes, not to mention expectations.

"Just play," Jack whispered. That was all he had to do. The music would do the rest.

Sutton's shoulders rose and fell. The first notes leapt with magnificent grace. It was a fine piano, the grand. Far better than the upright back at the shop. It gave proper voice to the masters. Thundering, confident voice through the stormy passages, soft but resonant when the music slowed to catch its breath. And the man at the keyboard, he was someone Jack didn't recognize. He wouldn't wink at Jack and burst into
By the Beautiful Sea
or
Hinky Dinky Parlez Vous,
not in this gilded room among people with educated tastes. When the piece ended and applause filled the quiet, Sutton shone like a man happy to have found his way back to the music most familiar to his hands and heart. He bowed to calls for more and Jack, giving up his seat to a young woman who had just come in, slipped to the back of the room where several of the men stood with their empty glasses forgotten in their hands.

Finishing his, Jack put the glass on a table and settled himself far back in a corner where he didn't have to keep up a cheerful countenance while Sutton's old life tried to steal him back. One thing he knew, he wouldn't accept any more invitations like this one. Dorrimer offering Sutton a job was a minor bit of torture compared with this.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Jack sucked in a breath, managing to stay in his skin, and looked around in annoyance at David. "Sure. You?"

"Oh yes. Quite at home. And such a joy to hear Sutton play again. A treasure, isn't he?"

"Not too bad at it," Jack said. "The long-hair numbers, I mean."

"Not too bad, no," David said with a little laugh.

"Of course," Jack said after considering a moment, "probably good enough to help you land that job."

"Quite the cynical mind you have. I've missed him terribly since he left school."

"You let him go."

"As will you, though I'm sure you won't find it easy. I imagine Sutton's been a considerable boon to your business."

Jack fought down the desire to take a swing at him. "Guess we both owe him, don't we?"

"I've just repaid him."

"Yeah? By pushing him to play so you could impress a bunch of tone-deaf snobs?"

"Do hold your voice down. These tone-deaf snobs as you refer to them can do things for Sutton of which you could not begin to conceive."

"He can do it all just fine, himself."

"And what of you, skulking here behind the portiere? I'd guess this isn't the first important concert you've tried to talk him out of performing. Can't afford to lose your golden goose just yet." Even David's whisper sounded smug. "I never expected or asked him to cut all ties for my sake. That's rather a lot to ask of a fellow."

Too much to ask, when a fellow had a future as promising as Sutton's. Jack could admit he had no more right than David to make such a demand--even if he sometimes wanted to believe he did, just by virtue of his feelings. But he couldn't reveal what Sutton meant to him, not when David was already taking such pleasure in sticking him with accusations sharp as bayonets--sharp because they were true.

"You look a little pale," David commented when Jack started to turn away.

Jack forced an indifferent smile into place before he threw a glance back at David. "Must be the champagne. Never agrees with me. Maybe a little fresh air," Jack said and escaped into the hall. Twilight blue beckoned through the doors and he stumbled to the porch, welcoming the rush of evening wind. He wandered further out along the hedgerows and fading flower beds until it was too dark to see and looking back at the house dazzled his vision. Couples came out, silhouettes that lingered in the cold for a minute or two before running back indoors. Jack took a roundabout route back, cutting across the dark lawn to the row of firs swaying in the wind.

He was glad he had when he saw David and Sutton hurry to the porch, laughing. Lattice partially blocked his view, but he could tell by their excited voices that they were rejoicing over the concert. Sutton would be sharing that with him if he hadn't wandered off. But then, Sutton wasn't looking for him. Jack couldn't hear their conversation, but the lattice didn't spare him the sight of David's arms around Sutton. If it was only a congratulatory hug, it went on longer than Jack liked. As they walked in his direction, he moved further into the shadows, and they went past, chattering on--about music or school or perhaps the war.

It was Sutton's business if he wanted to take up with David again. He was free to do as he pleased. Just as he'd said, no one had expectations. There were no social considerations, no promises to keep. It was all just a lot of fun--though Jack couldn't have said he was having any particular fun at the moment.

Sutton was right. It wasn't his sort of party after all.

He had walked a few blocks at a strenuous pace before realizing he'd left his coat behind. Deciding the rest of the evening might be redeemed with a warm bath and a cold gin, he took a cab home, making one stop along the way. The wind was sharper when he stood once again on his own sidewalk, and force of habit drew his eyes to the roof. His aerial hung over the cornice and he knew Mr. Valmeer had tied his wash line to the wires again. The wind would take them both down.

Jack sighed and, tucking the newly purchased gin under his arm, headed for the roof.

- Thirty -

The night was dark, cold, and on the verge of being wet. Dark, cold, wet, wonderful, glorious, beautiful night, one Sutton knew he would never forget. "You're sure you saw him come this way?" They had reached the fountains with still no sign of Jack. "Where on earth is he?"

"He probably got cold and went inside. He'll turn up." David slipped an arm around him from behind and kissed the nape of his neck. Easing away, Sutton put some space between them.

"Careful. You'll wreck your chances," he said lightly.

David closed the space, smiling his old fond smile. "They can't see us over here. Anyway, they're not so old-fashioned in New York."

"Perhaps not. But I think I may be."

"Over Bailey? You aren't serious."

"Why not?"

"A bit rough around the edges, isn't he? Your parents will never approve." The sardonic tone fell close to his ear. "You really must learn to take up affairs for amusement, Sutton. You know he views it as such."

"Did you take up with me for amusement?"

David only smiled and shrugged. "We had a discreet and pleasant affair, nothing to be ashamed of."

"It was more than that to me."

"I know. You're young enough to think affections can be constant and forever. Eventually you'll discover that the occasional passionate affair is the most we can wish for in this world." David smiled gently. "And that's not such a terrible thing."

Sutton shivered. "I don't think I will be sophisticated after all."

"Don't give up hope. War didn't open your eyes, but your dalliance with Jack Bailey may. Sophistication comes whether you want it or not, after enough bitter experience." He lit a cigarette. "It's chilly. We should go in."

"I want to find Jack."

"Not really his sort of evening, I think. No doubt he's on his way home by now." David struck out across the lawn like they'd had nothing more than a chat about the weather and Sutton let him go. The world-weary air about David had once engendered sympathy in him. Now he didn't understand how he'd cared as much for David as he had. That he'd imagined they could spend a lifetime together...

Maybe he was the fool David thought him, still wishing for the same happiness even crocodiles might find. Perhaps, but he missed Jack and he just wanted to go away from the party to some place cozy and warm and share a cup of coffee. Certainly there were things they needed to talk about that Sutton, for one, had avoided. Jack might be sore at him--but would surely understand his reasons.

Sutton circled the farthest reaches of the grounds and returned to the house, more worried than before. Enduring congratulations on the way, he went to the coat closet to find Jack's overcoat still there. The young woman who'd taken the coats told him Jack had left. Assuming Jack had gone home, Sutton went there, only to find the shop and apartment both dark and uninhabited. Jack might have gone out with his friends, but Sutton had only the vaguest idea where. He still had Harry's number, but it was nothing to worry Harry over at such a late hour.

He let the cab go and, head bent against the wind, started back inside. The sound of breaking glass in the street startled him, but when he looked around, there was no one to be seen. He heard a noise above and glanced up. Someone was peering over the edge of the rooftop. An awfully familiar someone with a bottle in his hand.

Sutton ran up the four flights and burst through the door, to find Jack tinkering with a wood and wire contraption fastened to a water pipe. His evening clothes traded for something workaday, a toolbox at his side, he looked Sutton's way and smiled as if everything were right with the world. "You okay?"

Sutton, catching his breath, dropped onto an overturned crate. "You left without me."

"Oh. Well, you were having fun, so--" Jack shrugged. He dug another tool from the box. "It's over already? David didn't invite you to stay?"

"It was on his mind. It wasn't on mine."

Jack nodded as if unconcerned. Sutton didn't like the feeling of distance between them. "About tonight--Jack, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to learn all that about me in such a back-handed manner. It's just been so humiliating to even think about, let alone relate to anyone who--" He broke off, embarrassed, and not sure if Jack was even listening. Perhaps the partially empty gin bottle was an indicator to heed. "I didn't mean to hurt you. We haven't really talked much about our pasts. We've been too busy, I guess."

Jack stopped working long enough to peer at him in the lantern light. "Anyone who what?"

"Pardon?"

"Too humiliating to relate to anyone who what?" Jack said with overly precise enunciation.

"Oh. Well, anyone whose respect I don't want to lose."

"Yeah? I was expelled more times than even Harry could count." He paused. "An affair with your teacher--I'll admit that's impressive. 'Course, my teacher was a million years old and only grabbed me when she'd a yardstick in her hand."

Sutton got up and draped Jack's coat over his shoulders. "You left this behind. And David wasn't my teacher. Just a teacher--and I'm a little worried you find that impressive," he added with a laugh. "Jack, what on earth are you doing?"

"Beefing up the aerial."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Got something to keep me warm."

"If you mean to get drunk even a little bit, I'm not sure a cold dark rooftop's the best place for it."

"I'm not drunk," Jack said. "A little rosy. I'm fine." He returned the tool to the box with care. "Now we just have to get Mr. Valmeer's line off and we're all set."

Sutton looked up at the clothes line that had been tied to the slender pole. "Mr. Valmeer? He's the round little fellow with the bristly beard?"

Jack nodded. "Every time his wife goes to visit her sister upstate, he does his own laundry, then forgets it's up here. And he's always tying the damned line to my aerial."

"Very remiss. Why don't you let me help you?" Sutton said, catching his arm as Jack climbed unsteadily to his feet.

"I've got it," Jack said, pulling away. "I've done it a thousand times." He shrugged off the coat and yanked at Mr. Valmeer's knots. "After I pay Chase, we'll beef up the transmitter, too. We can buy more tubes--maybe a couple of those fifty-watters--and boost the sending range so everyone this side of the Mississippi will hear you and fall in love."

"I'd settle for one," Sutton said quietly.

"Maybe sometime we'll go all the way to the west coast," Jack went on and grinned at him, a grin that faded into a sympathetic grimace. "Don't look so worried, will you? I'll introduce you as Mabel, concert pianist extraordinaire, and no one will know--well, except the people who already know." He frowned. "Think David will tell on us? Maybe I can figure out how to bypass Topeka," he muttered, and tugged impatiently at the thick knot. "Damned thing--"