I swatted his butt, and he laughed and disappeared into the bedroom, stripping as he went. I called a cab to pick us up in twenty minutes, then followed his trail of clothes, picking them up along the way.
* * * *
Giovanni, the ma? tre d’ at Raphael’s, smiled as we entered. “Signore Bascopolis. Signore Matheson. It is good to see you again.”
“Thanks, Giovanni. How are you?”
“Eh. Come si, come sa.”
Wills murmured something in Italian, and Giovanni’s face lit up.
“Grazie! Grazie!”
I cleared my throat, and Wills smiled and slid his arm into mine. “It looks like you’ve got quite a crowd.” There was a line of people waiting to be seated.
“This is true. I cannot leave my post tonight, not even to…” He rolled his eyes toward the archway that led to the restrooms. “Nino will take you to your table.” He checked off our names and snapped his fingers.
“You would want to come here,” an overweight man growled at the plainly-dressed woman beside him. He glared at me, sneered at Wills. “It’s a crying shame when God-fearing, church-going men…and women…” An obvious afterthought. “…are passed over in favor of these goddamned fags!”
“Dear. Please.” The woman flushed and looked uncomfortable. The man was an asshole. He’d probably forgotten to get her anything, and so this was his way of making up for it.
“Ignore him, please.” Giovanni’s lip was curled in disdain. “He is upset because he thought he could call this morning and make a reservation. He felt his name alone should get him a table.”
“Who is he?”
“No one. His party will have to wait.”
I shrugged. I’d learned a long time ago to ignore slurs.
Wills, on the other hand, had never had to deal with homophobia. He stared at the man, that flat expression in his eyes. The man turned pale, and his wife clutched his arm.
“Babe…” I wasn’t sure what Wills might do.
The flat expression was replaced by a smile that might have been sweet if it hadn’t been for the hint of steel in it. “That may be so, but the ‘goddamned fags’ made reservations a month ago.”
I blinked.
Giovanni bit his lip, smothering a laugh, and turned away. “Nino! If you will seat the signori?”
* * * *
We were able to get that table in the alcove, and dinner was fabulous, as was usual at Raphael’s. My filet mignon had a wine and mushroom sauce I found intriguing. I fed Wills a bite, and when he agreed, I wondered if I could duplicate it.
He ordered the snow crab legs, and industriously cracked the shells and removed the white flesh. “Open wide, babe.”
I closed my lips over his fork and slowly drew back. He touched my lip and caught a drop of butter, and licked it off his finger.
“Wills!”
He grinned and reached for his wine glass.
For dessert we had orange angel food cake with fresh raspberries and blueberries and whipped cream, and Amaretto.
“It’s a good thing we’re cabbing it tonight.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve already got a buzz on!”
“No, but I’m feeling pretty good.”
Nino brought the check, and I handed him my credit card.
“I’ll get the tip, babe.” Wills left two twenties under his coffee cup.
As we were leaving, we bumped into the asshole and his wife, who were also leaving. They’d been seated after us, and if they had finished when we did, they must have bolted down their food, which wouldn’t have done justice to the talents of Raphael’s chef. The woman rubbed her sternum and looked miserable. The man scowled at us until Wills noticed and returned his look, and then he grabbed his wife’s arm and scurried out.
At the curb, I stuck two fingers into my mouth and let out a shrill whistle.
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
“I’m a man of vast, unknown capabilities.”
“You sure are.” A cab pulled up. “Nice work.” Wills grinned at me and got in, and I took the opportunity to admire his ass. Then I climbed in after him.
“The Bee’s Knees,” I told the driver. “Do you know where it is?”
“Sure thing. I been drivin’ a lot of guys there tonight, when I ain’t been drivin’ ’em to the Garfield. You look familiar. Do I know you?”
“No.” It was possible he’d driven me somewhere with a john, but the last thing I wanted was my past brought up in front of the man who was my future.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Say, if you guys feel like making out in the back seat, I ain’t got no beef with that.”
“Thanks, but I think we can restrain ourselves.”
“Okay. I just wanted you to know I wasn’t one of them anti-gay jerks. Live and let live, I always say.”
“That’s a good philosophy.”
“Well…uh…Nice weather for Valentine’s Day.”
“Yes.”
Finally he gave up his attempts at conversation. “You mind if I play some music?”
“Not at all.”
Surprisingly, he turned on a station that played classical music, and he began humming along to it.
“Didn’t you tell me the Valentine’s Day Ball was at the Garfield this year?” Wills asked in a soft voice.