“No. See, that was the thing about my Mom. She did what her head told her.” He gave a snort of laughter. “That was one of Grandma’s favorite sayings, and when she said it, we knew it wasn’t meant as a compliment. She and Grandpa were easygoing with me, though, maybe because they were in their late sixties when I was born. Dad let me fly down every summer to stay with them for a couple of weeks. Grandpa would take me out in the Everglades on a fan boat, or we’d go fishing in the Gulf or he’d let me watch him make wine. Grandma always thought I wasn’t eating enough, so she’d cook up a storm. Sometimes my cousins would be there too, but not often. Uncle Tony blamed Dad for the accident, and he…he didn’t want his kids hanging out with me.”
“That’s not fair. It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, but that’s Uncle Tony. He was never a…a happy man. Dad said he was different when they were kids—he used to be Dad’s best friend—but he changed as he got older. After the accident, he wouldn’t even talk to Dad. Grandpa had a stroke a few years ago, and Grandma’d gotten a little frail. She couldn’t take care of him by herself, so Uncle Tony sold his practice in the Hamptons and moved down there to take care of them both. I went to see them a couple of times, but it was uncomfortable. Grandma took me aside the last time and asked me not to come for a while. I haven’t seen them since.”
“Oh, babe.” I knew how hard it was to be shut out by family.
“Well, that’s families for you.” He shrugged as if it didn’t really matter, but I could see that it did, and I wanted to punch his uncle. Even if his father had been responsible for the accident that killed his mother, Wills had done nothing to deserve that. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m boring you with old family history.”
“Never boring.” I swallowed to clear the lump in my throat, and tightened my grip on him in an attempt to convey what I couldn’t say. I’m your family now. I love you. “C’mon, Wills. Let’s go to bed.”
“I guess we’d better, or Santa will never come.”
“Well, that’s Mrs. Claus’s problem.”
As I’d hoped, that lightened the mood, and he burst into laughter. “Let’s get the fire banked and check on Miss Su.” He got to his feet and held his hand out to me. I let him pull me up and against him, and he brushed a feather-light kiss across my lips. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“Cool,” I said.
And may you never be done with me, I prayed.
It was New Year’s Eve, and the next day, New Year’s Day, was my twenty-eighth birthday. During the time I’d been a rent boy, we hadn’t really celebrated birthdays. Oh, maybe an over- the-hill gag gift. Age wasn’t something that was on our side, and the older we got, the closer we came to being less in demand until finally we were shit out of work. I’d been lucky in that I looked a number of years younger than I actually was. When Wills and I had first met, he’d thought I was seventeen.
But now it didn’t matter, and I knew Wills had something special planned. He had made reservations more than a month in advance for dinner at Raphael’s, and there were boxes in his office. I’d sneaked in and—not given them a shake, I was too adult for that—but I’d turned them over and over in an attempt to see if anything…rattled.
I could tell that some were books or DVDs or CDs, but there was one box, about the size of a shirt box, but deeper. All I could guess for that one was a few shirts.
“When can I open my presents, Wills?”
“Delayed gratification, babe,” he’d sing-songed. “When it’s your birthday.”
After dinner, we were going to the New Year’s Eve Ball, the final escort ball of this year’s Le Roi. Charlemagne had pulled out all the stops because for this one, escorts always brought their favorite clients, and although they might only stay for a few dances and a glass or two of champagne before moving on to the next party, Charlemagne wanted this to be the one they remembered, the highlight of the evening.
“Who’d you bring, Theo?”
“Oh, it varied from year to year.” Was he jealous? No, he didn’t seem to be. “Sometimes an undersecretary at State, sometimes a Feeb…That’s an FBI agent.”
“I know what a Feeb is, babe. I watched X-Files.”
“Sorry.” I laughed. “And sometimes the CFO of a blue chip corporation.” Once I’d even brought John, my real estate agent. I smiled nostalgically at the thought of him and hoped his Bradford was treating him well. Had his holiday been as wonderful as mine?
“I can’t believe it’s never made the newspapers. You know what a hotbed for gossip DC is.”