~Quartetto~

Chapter 1- After the Los Angeles Concert​

The concert had been a success, as usual, and the four of us had retreated to the large ready room backstage to freshen up before the party. Thankfully, our manager, Diggs, had remembered to bring in a fresh tray of sandwiches, or we would have ended up drinking cocktails on near-empty stomachs. I raised my bottle of water in a mute toast to my co-stars before biting into my first sandwich, and observed the different ways in which we each unwound after a performance.

Cesare Ricci, our intrepid leader by default of being the oldest, was a quintessential Italian opera singer -- big voice, big ego, but with an even bigger heart. The only father among us, he kept a mind-numbing quantity of photos with him wherever he went, mostly of his three daughters and lovely wife. He was dressed in a fresh suit, with even his tie already tied, and perched on the edge of the sofa with a plate balanced on one knee as he sipped his water. Had he seen me raise mine, he would have returned the gesture with enthusiasm and a flash of his famous smile, but at the moment he was preoccupied with Luc.

Luc Laurent, the youngest of us, was a handsome Frenchman who, unlike the rest of us, came from a non-classical background. In fact he was something of a pop idol, and his manager had tried to talk him out of joining our quartet; however, to the boy's credit, he wanted to be more than a piece of eye candy for screaming teenage girls, and was willing to work hard to blend his voice to the three of ours. Even now, holding an uneaten sandwich in one hand, he was asking Cesare for advice on how best to project a line in a certain song, which he felt he'd not done well enough during the concert. His passion for music was unrivaled, and being young (or at least, twenty-six seemed young to the rest of us) he absorbed information like a sponge. I smiled privately as I wondered when he would actually start eating his sandwich.

Well, perhaps not as privately as I'd thought. I caught a slight movement, and looked up at Johann Leitner, who was smiling back at me with a knowing expression. He was perched on the back of the sofa, popping the somewhat wilted grapes that had been set out before the performance, one by one into his mouth -- his perfect mouth, out of which came the sweetest sound imaginable. He had been the only unknown performer recruited for our group, a real find in a Paris audition with many hopefuls. I firmly believe that our success is due to him in large part, for between his handsome face (which would cause most women to swoon) and his mellow voice, he had managed to receive more fan mail than even Luc. However, he had an oddly endearing habit of deferring to Cesare and me, since we were older and more experienced as performers. He had changed into a new outfit, too, but his tie was hanging untied from his collar, which gave him an uncharacteristically roguish air.

I'm Brian Douglas, the only American of our group, and a farm boy from rural Illinois who always feels like an unrefined boor among these genteel Europeans. My wife, Michelle, often reminded me not to slouch while doing on-camera interviews, but I know it comes from a subconscious desire to be less obtrusive, or at least to look smaller -- which is not easy when you're a hulking six feet two inches. I have no idea how tall Cesare is, but I can easily put my chin on top of his head, which I proved at one photo shoot, much to his amusement. "Our American giant says, 'Come, listen to us, or else!'" he had joked. Both Luc and Johann are a good height, but I can still see over their heads without trying.

When we finally went out to the reception hall to mingle with our guests, Luc having hastily swallowed his sandwich, I had the same vantage point as I usually did. Not wanting to seem aloof, I found a small table in a corner to sit at, and was accosted by a few enthusiastic fans who had only kind words for our performance. After some polite conversation, they moved on to my co-stars, which allowed me to enjoy the fine cognac I indulged in after a good concert -- provided, of course, that we did not have to travel at the crack of dawn the following day. The combination did not occur frequently, for we now had a hectic schedule that often left us confused as to which time zone, or even country, we were in. It was the price of success, and all of us, even Cesare, knew it was worth the time away from our families.

I noticed that Johann had broken away from a small crowd of adoring female fans, and was heading in my direction. Predictably, my heart leapt into my throat for a brief moment, and I inhaled deeply in an effort to appear calm before he approached. He caught a glass of white wine from a waiter as he gracefully crossed the floor, and settled down in the chair next to mine.

"To another brilliant performance," he said, raising it in the same gesture of salute as I had given earlier. I casually raised my cognac again, trying to smile easily, ignoring the thudding noise coming from my chest. If not for the ambient noise of the party, I would have worried that he might hear it, too.

"Any plans for tomorrow?" I asked, feigning indifference. We were staying in Los Angeles for a few more days, with an interview the day after, but tomorrow was a rare day of freedom.

"I'm not sure," Johann answered slowly, swirling his wine. "I would like to do some... how do you say? Place-seeing?"

"Sight-seeing," I offered, with a genuine smile. Johann's English was a great deal better than my French would ever be, and although he spoke with a slight accent, I was always impressed at how well he could communicate in a second language. Considering that he came from Austria and spoke German and French and a few other languages, and could sing in Italian, my own linguistic achievements were child's play.

"Sight-seeing," he repeated, tucking it into his memory. "Yes, I think it is nice to be tourist for a day. And you? You have plans?"

"Not really," I confessed. "I was thinking of sleeping in late, then venturing out to Chinatown for lunch."

"Sleep does sound good," Johann sighed. "It has been a hard month with the travel we do."

"No kidding! I can't wait until next month." Our concert tour would end soon, and we would have almost three uninterrupted weeks to spend at our respective homes around the globe.

"Yes, it will be nice to be home." Johann looked over at me with inquisitive eyes. "You miss your wife?"

"Well... yes," I answered, struggling not to blush. Not from the sentiment, but because I knew why my reply came out with a slight hesitation. The truth was still difficult to admit, even to myself.

"Of course, this is... more hard, when you have family," he said, glancing back at Cesare. The Italian was regaling a group of guests with an animated anecdote. Johann smiled as he turned his attention back to me, but I thought I saw a trace of sadness in his brown eyes.

"Johann," I began, careful not to tread on hallowed ground, "I know your parents are... no longer with us..."

He nodded, but his smile did not fade. "Such a beautiful way to put it. But I like better to say, they are in the hands of God."

"Of course," I answered, staring a bit stupidly at him before continuing. "But do you have any other family? Grandparents, cousins?"

He glanced quickly down at his drink. "No... but I have friends. Very good friends."

I felt bad for bringing it up, now that I knew. "Ah... Friends are important."

He looked back up and smiled. "Yes. I am happy to have so many wonderful friends. Joining this group has been a very good thing for me."

Knowing that I was included in his circle of friends made my heart, which had gradually slowed down to a manageable pace, quicken again. I almost missed what Johann said next.

"I have a very old, very dear friend, in Salzburg. Almost like family, like a... father to me. He is most eager to hear about my travels. He was the friend who... encouraged me, to go to the audition. He bought me the ticket to Paris, and said, 'Here, you must go -- this is the chance for you!' And he was right. This was... the best thing that ever happen to me."

"I'm so glad you did, too," I affirmed, then blushed, wondering if he could hear anything more than pure appreciation for his talent in my tone. His smile did nothing to help my discomfiture.

"And I am glad for you, also, Brian." He took a sip from his glass, a wordless toast, and I did likewise, glad to find something to do to distract myself, to break eye contact with Johann, whose very presence now affects me so powerfully that I can scarcely breathe normally around him.

 

Chapter 2- Flashback to London​

When we were first introduced by the producer, I had only noticed that Johann was a handsome man with a mild, self-effacing manner. I was more intrigued by his voice -- that sweet tenor voice that soared to heights as delicately and easily as a bird. He had plenty of support for it, too, with impeccable technique, but the timbre of the voice itself was a gift. "A gift from the heavens!" Cesare had declared, and I readily agreed. Even Luc, though he did not know much about our style of singing yet at the time, was impressed.

However, I quickly grew to appreciate not only Johann's talent, but his character as well. With our quartet being what one critic called a "thrown-together hodge-podge of male divas," tempers and egos often flared over trivial things, but somehow Johann had the ability to soothe frayed nerves, and the wisdom to find compromises that were fair to all. Before long I started looking forward to our recording sessions, which initially had been nightmarish affairs. And subtly, I started looking forward to seeing Johann -- to seeing his warm smile, to hearing his voice float over the notes, to simply being in the same room, breathing the same air.

It had begun so imperceptibly, so gradually, that it wasn't until our concert in London that I realized what had happened. Before our performance, when we were still in our individual dressing rooms, the local florist made several deliveries. I glanced at the small array of bouquets on my table, and noticed that one of them was addressed to Johann, so I stepped out into the corridor to give it to its rightful recipient. Johann opened his dressing room door a few moments after I knocked, his shirt still unbuttoned.

"These are for you," I said, handing him the bouquet of assorted roses.

"Oh!" he said, startled, and gazed up at me with an unspoken question in his eyes. It took me a second to realize how it must have appeared to him.

I pointed at the attached card and sputtered, "They were delivered to me by mistake!"

"Oh!" he said again. "I see. Thank you, Brian." He smiled, half-embarrassed, but did not comment on his misunderstanding. "I will be ready soon."

I could only nod, and went back to my own room to finish dressing (or "primping" as my three brothers would say) in a state of mild shock. Johann had thought, if only for a moment, that I had given him flowers. Me, Brian Joseph Douglas, a happily-married, red-blooded American male. There were some things about European culture that still caught me off-guard... or was it simply because I was such a country bumpkin? I mean, I wasn't a homophobe, and considered myself as open-minded as the next guy; but then, when I had finally told my dad that I'd been accepted into the Music Conservatory in Chicago, and wanted to sing for a living, his pithy comment had been: "Great. My son's a fucking fairy!" I came from a long line of hard-nosed, no-nonsense farmers, and even the few males of the family who weren't farmers wore blue collars or hardhats. I shook my head to try to clear it. At least, if there were still a trace of redneck in me, I came by it honestly.

But the thought of being attracted to Johann came back to haunt me, later that night, as I lay awake in the hotel room. Staring at the ceiling, the sight of the younger man with his dress shirt hanging loose, only a thin undershirt covering his chest, kept coming back into my mind's eye, uninvited. I tried to focus on his expression of surprise in that moment of misunderstanding, but even that was dangerous, for it made me think that he had been pleasantly surprised, not horrified as any of the guys I had grown up with would have been. Which led me to wonder, was he disappointed that the flowers weren't from me? But that was ridiculous, I told myself. Why would he want flowers from me, of all people? No, no, no! This whole train of thought is absurd, I firmly scolded. There was no way Johann actually wanted male attention. But then, the voice of my logic persisted, why wasn't he married and settled down already? He was certainly handsome enough!

That led to the greatest pitfall of all, for I started thinking about his boyish good looks, his charming smile, and the way his eyes lit up when he laughed. He was a handsome guy, no doubt about it, and the fan mail he got from thousands of adoring women proved it. He could literally have his pick of girls, from almost any age group. So why hadn't he? In all the time we had spent together as a group, traveling from place to place, I'd never even seen him act interested in a woman -- or a man, either, for that matter, as a part of me hastily pointed out. Luc had a girlfriend back home, someone he had met back in his pop idol days, and Cesare and I were married -- but what was Johann's reason? Did he have a girlfriend, too? Then why didn't he ever talk about her?

Maybe, suggested that wicked part of my brain, he doesn't have a girlfriend, but a boyfriend, and figures people like me couldn't handle it if he brought it up. That might be possible, I conceded grudgingly, but what kind of man would a guy like Johann be interested in? He would have to be good-looking, I decided, since Johann was so handsome himself. And young. It just wouldn't be right for him to be hanging around an ugly old guy. At least, that wasn't something I could reconcile with my Hollywood mentality of beautiful people. And someone, most importantly, that understood music -- who could fully appreciate the gift to the world that was Johann's voice.

In that aspect, I thought with a sigh, I could offer complete and unequivocal adoration. I loved his voice. And not only his voice, but the passionate and compassionate soul that allowed him to use that instrument with perfect execution and emotion. I appreciated what he brought to our group, and didn't think it was cliché or exaggeration to say he was the glue that held us together. And yes, I'd already admitted that he was attractive -- as if anyone could deny that! He had the most beautiful brown eyes I'd ever seen, and although he never exuded that arrogance which the other three of us were often accused of, he walked with confidence and a quiet calm about him that showed he was comfortable, just being himself, in any situation. I would be the first to say that I admired him as a man, not just as a singer.

I admired him. I appreciated him. How far a leap would it be, I wondered, to be attracted to him? That vision that he had presented, at the door to his dressing room, returned to my mind. The smooth skin stretching across a trim body filled with supple grace, the hands that moved fluidly when he discussed music, the sparkling smile that, although less intense than Cesare's, still had the ability to leave a warm glow in my heart... What would it be like to touch him, hold him, kiss him? To kiss that perfect mouth, to hear that soft voice raised in passion, to feel his arms clutching me with desire...

In that moment, I was undone. And from then on, I have been trying desperately to pretend that I am still who I was before I fell in love with another man. Being a performer does not mean I have any talent at acting, and it has been a struggle of Herculean effort. Only occasionally do I permit myself to dwell on thoughts of him, since almost every day, I must act normally towards the object of my growing affections, and put on the mask of a normal, happily-married, red-blooded American.

 

Chapter 3- Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite ​

"So," Johann said thoughtfully, setting down his empty glass, "What is this Chinatown that everyone speaks about?"

"Oh! Yeah, Chinatown. It's a big tourist attraction, really," I replied, pulled back to my previous train of thought. "It's where a bunch of Chinese people settled when they immigrated to America. There's Little Tokyo, too, here in LA, which is of course the Japanese's version."

"So, all over America, there are little towns where other countries' peoples live?"

I laughed at the mental image I got from his description of separate settlements. "Something like that. Although usually everybody gets mixed in together."

"Ah!" he said, comprehension lighting his eyes. "That is why it is called the big mixing pot!"

I tried not to laugh too hard at that one. "M--Melting pot," I managed, though not with a straight face. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind.

"Melting pot. Okay... So, is there a Little Austria somewhere? Or Francetown?"

"I don't know about those... but there's Greektown in Chicago," I offered. "They have the best gyros! Have you ever been to Greece?"

"Once, yes," Johann said, a faint smile playing on his lips in a most seductive way. Judas Priest! Does he even know how handsome he is? "I like the gyros, too. But you say it is in Chicago? A Greek Town?"

I nodded. "I think there was a Vietnamese Town, too, just south of Chinatown."

"I would like to see that," Johann said, slightly wistfully. "A city with so many countries represented, in miniature. It would be like walking around the world, only closer."

"It is, isn't it." I'd never thought about it like that before. "It's rather romantic when you put it like that."

He flashed me another smile, and I was certain I was grinning like a fool.

"You lived in Chicago many years?" he asked.

"A few. Just for school, then I moved to New York. But I have a lot of great memories of the Windy City."

"There is much wind there?"

"Yeah, the high-rises -- that's tall buildings, or skyscrapers -- catch the wind and push it down into the streets. It's very windy!"

"High-rises... skyscrapers... I think," Johann declared, with a slightly furrowed brow, "that Americans must be very creative! They make so many words for same thing."

"Maybe. Or maybe we get bored too easily with old things, including old words. We are like a nation of young children." This was something that I had often felt, walking in the older sections of European towns, where history was counted in thousands of years, not hundreds. "We often throw away the old in favor of the new, without really appreciating the value of the old."

In retrospect, I'm surprised at myself for launching into this kind of monologue, but perhaps it was the cognac talking. Or, more likely, the fact that Johann was listening to me, his rapt attention on every word. It was a sensation similar to intoxication. I continued, bringing it around to a subject my audience knew well.

"Take our music, for instance. Yes, there are many good new songs being written, but so many of our young people don't know the old songs, the beautiful songs written long ago that have stood the test of time. They don't realize that their grandparents, even great-great-great-grandparents, knew what it was like to love, and lose, and feel pain. They have already lost touch with their past, and since they only know what is new, that is all they ever choose." Johann nodded his head in agreement, giving me more steam to keep going. "I hope, with our group, we can bring out more of the old songs, to teach our young people the beauty left by people from hundreds of years ago, and not only have them appreciate the old songs, but also understand and appreciate their own heritage. That there were people just like them that came before, and that their children would be just like them, too -- even if technology changes so much of the world, that humanity and the human experience never changes, transcends time. That some things are, well... eternal."

I heard a noise behind me as a woman sobbed. Some of our wealthy patrons had approached us unnoticed, and must have heard at least a part of my ranting. I was mortified, and turned a bright shade of red, but one of the women shook my hand while holding a handkerchief to her face with her other hand.

"That was so beautiful!" she gasped, and the others seemed to agree. I hoped desperately that whatever had just left my mouth did not sound too pompous. I rarely spouted off like that, but in the past, it had usually ended in disaster.

"You are right, it is beautiful," Johann said in his quiet voice, a soothing balm to my jangling nerves. "And I have felt this, too -- it does not matter that we are not family, because all of mankind is family. And our songs tell our stories, and teach us that we are not alone."

He looked deep into my eyes, and to my surprise, I was able to look back without embarrassment. It was almost as though he wanted to say more, but decided against it. In any case, one of the gentlemen started to ask him about our song selection process, and the conversation drifted away.

By the time we all climbed into the limo that took us back to the hotel, Cesare was a soppy mess, and Luc was almost asleep on his feet. I had only had the one glass of cognac, and Johann a few glasses of wine, so it fell to the two of us to herd them into their respective rooms. As I half-dragged Cesare with my right arm, and steered Luc with my left, Johann ran ahead and grabbed our key-cards from the concierge, then kindly took Luc off of my hands so I could do a proper job of carrying Cesare. He was weeping almost incoherently, not even attempting to walk, so when we got off the elevator, I simply hoisted him onto one shoulder. All that farm work in my youth came in handy sometimes!

Johann opened the door to Cesare's room before leading Luc down to his. I managed to peel most of Cesare's clothes off, and was replacing it with a hotel bathrobe as he cried about his little daughters missing him -- apparently, it had been one of their birthdays recently, and he was beating himself up for not having been there, despite the fact that he had sent her extravagant gifts.

"Just wait, Cesare, two more weeks and you'll be with them all! Two weeks, that's nothing. They'll fly by, my friend, if you keep dreaming of them."

"Yes... yes... to sleep, perchance to dream..." he mumbled, and when I finally rolled him into bed, he was unconscious before he stopped moving.

"You do much better job than I do," came Johann's voice softly from behind me. "I put Luc on top of his bed, but at least I give him blankets."

He placed Cesare's key-card on a conspicuous spot on the desk, and turned to give me mine. Our fingers touched for a fraction of a second, and I felt myself flush.

"It's time we all got some sleep," I said, nervously walking out of the room.

"Yes," Johann agreed, following right behind me. "How is it you Americans say? 'Don't let the bugs bite?'"

"Sleep tight, don't let the bed-bugs bite," I said, smiling. It was one of the first American phrases I had taught Johann on the tour.

"Bed-bugs, bed-bugs," he mumbled happily. He seemed to enjoy learning Americanisms, and had greatly improved his English (or American, as he liked to say) in the short time -- barely a year, now -- since our group had been organized.

As he paused in front of his door, he turned to me and said, "Brian, I wonder..."

"Yes?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat as I stopped in the hallway. My room was the furthest down.

"When you spoke of our... grandparents, loving and losing and feeling pain... you did not speak about the joy and happiness that comes from love."

I stood there awkwardly and stared at him. I had no idea he would remember what I had said, let alone so precisely.

"I pray, Brian, that love is happiness for you. That it is not always loss and sadness."

The smile Johann shot me then, as he opened his door and stepped inside, warmed me more than the cognac, right down to my toes.

"Good night, Brian. Sleep tight," he called out in a parting benediction.

"Don't let the bed-bugs bite," I answered automatically, as in a trance.

I knew it was going to be a long night, and who would haunt my dreams the whole time.

 

Chapter 4- Breakfast With Johann​

The phone awoke me the next morning, and I reached for it with my face still buried in a pillow.

"Herro?" I mumbled.

"Good morning, Bri. Did I wake you up?" came Michelle's voice from across the continent.

"Yeah. What time is it?"

"It's noon here, so it must be at least 9AM there."

I groaned. "We were up till two in the morning, I think. I'm getting too old for this..."

"Sorry I woke you up."

Despite the words, I could tell she was miffed.

"That's all right, babe. Hey, want anything from Chinatown?"

I had hoped to appease her with a peace offering, but it was a no go.

"Oh, Brian, please don't buy me any more junk! Most of the stuff in the stores are made in China, anyway."

"True enough... How's your day going?"

Keep it mellow, I told myself.

"Okay... I just tried out at an audition for this project with Wei Wei Wuu, but I don't think I made the cut... there were so many violinists, the competition was fierce..."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, knowing my wife, an accomplished musician in her own right, had to be envious of my current career success, even though she tried her best not to show it. "Are they going to do callbacks?"

"That's what they said, but you know how it works... They've probably already signed the contract."

"Rough luck, babe," I sighed, knowing well enough how often it was not talent but connections, or just blind luck, that got you the right engagement, at the right time, to be noticed by the right people. "How're your classes going?"

"They're all right... It isn't Julliard, but at least the kids want to learn. It beats giving lessons to rich kids who're only doing it for their parents."

Michelle had found a job teaching music at a private girls' school in Manhattan, which I hoped would get her out of the apartment and give her something to do while I was gone. A lot of the students were there by scholarships and grants, which gave the school a much different tone from the prep school where she had given private lessons before.

"Any of them want lessons?"

"A few. They're doing okay, considering how little music instruction they've had in the past."

"I'm sure it's a testament to your hard work and dedication."

"Haha. Well, I'd better get back to grading papers. Lunch break is almost over."

"Okay. I'll see you in a little bit."

"What?!? When were you coming back again?"

"Well, not for two weeks, but after five weeks on the road, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel!"

There was a slight pause.

"Michelle?"

"I'm sorry, I gotta go!"

Click.

That was weird, I thought to myself as I replaced the receiver. I decided to ponder it in the shower, but not even the hot jets of water could help me think better, although they did wake me up. Feeling refreshed, at least physically, I pulled on the hotel bathrobe and picked up the paper, trying to decide what to order for breakfast. One of the perks of being a quasi-celebrity was that they expected you to get room service.

Just as I reached for the phone again, there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I called as I walked towards it.

"Room service!" came the muffled reply.

I blinked. I hadn't called them yet, and they were already here? Maybe Michelle had called them for me? In any case, I was hungry, and not about to pass up good food. I opened the door and stood back, ready for a cart to be wheeled in. Instead, there was Johann holding a box of doughnuts with two tall coffees balanced on top, a cheerful grin on his face.

"Good, you are up! I didn't know when you get up, but I was hoping you would be awake by now."

He extended the box, so I took the coffees, mercifully distracted by the logo on the cups.

"They have a Dunkin' Doughnuts around here?"

"Right down the street! I was on a walk and saw it, and thought it would be nice for breakfast."

"Thanks! It's my favorite."

"I remember you said so," he smiled, as he set the box down on the table. I noticed that he was in his casual clothes, a short-sleeved polo shirt and khakis with a sweater tied around his waist, and felt somewhat embarrassed to be dressed only in a bathrobe, but tried not to dwell on it.

"I can't believe you've been up for a walk already," I said as I sat down, hoping my pounding heartbeat was not audible.

"I could not sleep when the sun was shining so bright! You must open your curtains -- the view is wonderful!" So saying, he went over to open them, allowing the California sun to come streaming in. "I forgot to close them last night before I go to bed, so the sun woke me up early."

"Didn't they have them closed when you came in?" I asked, setting down one cup for him and inhaling the aroma of mine.

"Yes, of course, but I opened them -- I always look at the view of the city, each place we go."

He came and sat down in the other chair, then eagerly opened the box of doughnuts.

"I didn't know which you like, so I got one of almost each kind," he explained. I looked at the assortment dumbfounded, since it was the two-dozen box.

"Johann... do you expect to eat all of this with just the two of us?"

He smiled, setting butterflies a-flutter in my stomach. "They are small. And it is okay if we don't finish, there is always the 'fridge."

His enthusiasm was infectious. "Sounds like a plan!" I said, and peered over the selection. "Ah! Come to papa..." I sighed, pulling out a plain glazed one. The first bite was heavenly, and I must have moaned with pleasure. Johann laughed and picked out a jelly-filled one.

"So, you must tell me," he said, after swallowing a few bites, "why do they call this 'doughnuts'?"

I licked my fingers, having finished my first one already. "I'm sorry to admit, I have no clue. All I know is, they're delicious!" I took a sip of my coffee. "Ahhh! Nectar of the gods!"

Johann laughed again, and I thought my stomach flipped over inside me, doughnut and all. Thankfully, before I could choke or do something stupid, he redirected my attention to the box.

"Which is your favorite? There are so many, have you tried them all?"

"Actually, yes. In Chicago, there's a shop on every corner, and every morning on my way to school, I'd stop and have a couple for breakfast. I've tried every single kind they have at least once." I pulled out a rectangular pastry and held it out to him. "This, my friend, is a long john. Why they call it that, I don't know, but if you'll take the other side, we'll split it in half, because you must try it. There..." Johann deftly pulled the other end, and it came apart roughly in the middle, with custard oozing out. "Ah! Custard-filled. Some prefer the cream-filled, but that's just a sweet paste. Custard has more flavor, and is one of my favorites." I watched as Johann licked the custard dripping out of his half, and suddenly felt a strong urge to grab him and lick the custard off his tongue. I swallowed and brought myself back to the topic at hand. "What do you think?"

"It is good! I think... it is very like krapfen in Austria. It comes with jelly and this... custard."

As he took a few bites, I chewed on mine, thinking how perfect it was to be sitting here, with the sun coming in the window, having coffee and doughnuts for breakfast with Johann.

"Yes, this is almost... familiar," he said, his eyes half-closed. "Very good! What other ones do you like?"

I had to admit that my favorite was the chocolate glazed, which he graciously insisted I eat all of, while he chose the cinnamon. We made our way through a blueberry muffin each, then I had a jelly-filled doughnut while Johann sipped his coffee, and we finished by splitting the twist -- "For dessert," Johann laughed.

"Ahhh! That was the best breakfast I've had in a long time," I said, leaning back to savor the last of my coffee. "Thanks so much, Johann."

"It was my pleasure," he said, also leaning back and stretching his legs. "I think I could live in America and be quite happy, because I like all the food."

"Hear, hear!" I said, raising my cup. "It may be mass-produced, but by golly, it's good stuff!"

He smiled again, and I was struck speechless, grinning like an idiot, no doubt, as he looked over at me for a long moment that was, for me, an embarrassing yet blissful eternity.

"I was wondering," Johann started slowly and -- was I imagining it? -- rather coyly. "I hope it would not be a... in-position? Is that the right word?"

"I think you mean 'imposition'?"

"Imposition, yes. If it would not be an imposition, may I... tag along, when you go to China Town?"

My heart definitely skipped a beat. Go out on the town with Johann? An imposition???

"Of course you're welcome! More than welcome! I'm sorry, if I'd been thinking, I should have asked you myself!" Not that I would have dreamed in a million years that he'd accept.

He smiled, sending my heart-rate into orbit. "I'm so glad! You see, I must confess to you. I had... ulterior motives, for bringing breakfast to you. It was a bride."

I couldn't help laughing at that, and Johann immediately realized his mistake.

"Bribe, I mean, of course, bribe," he repeated with chagrin.

"Oh, Johann, you didn't have to!" I said firmly. "I would be delighted to go sight-seeing with you, anytime!"

The sunlight seemed to dance in his eyes.

"Well then, my bribe worked!" he said in mock triumph. I couldn't argue with that.

 

Chapter 5- Chinatown​

Johann went to check on the other two and to see if they wanted the leftover doughnuts, while I got dressed. Any other time I would have reverted to my favorite jeans and an old t-shirt, but Johann had looked so elegant in his simple outfit that I had to at least try to match. I pulled out a new pair of jeans and a white polo, then added a lightweight black sport coat to dress it up a bit. When I added my favorite black cowboy boots and sunglasses, I looked more like a bodyguard than an actual celebrity, but I figured that was all right -- Johann had enough good looks for the both of us, and might just need a bodyguard if he were found and swarmed by his adoring fans.

Johann came back without the box. "Cesare is happy for the doughnuts, and I make him coffee, so he will nurse himself back to life from his hangover. Luc says he will catch up on his beauty sleep today." Johann grinned. "It seems just the two of us are ready for adventure, then."

"Yeah," I answered, trying not to feel faint, "Just the two of us."

We caught a cab to the ornate (if somewhat shabby) gateway to Los Angeles' Chinatown, and stepped into a world full of sights, sounds, and smells that were overpowering in every way. The walls were painted in bright, vivid colors, and everywhere we turned we were assaulted by the same mesmerizing array of color. We wandered through plazas filled with little Buddha statues and potted plants, stepped into shops with mind-numbing selections of cheap junk, and picked our way through markets that inevitably smelled of dead fish. Johann was like a kid in a candy store, drinking it all in.

"This is wonderful!" he exclaimed at one point, stopping in the middle of a lane to admire the ubiquitous paper lanterns that festooned the streets, bobbing in the gentle breeze. The blue sky was a great backdrop to the pink, red, and yellow lanterns, which sometimes hung so low that I had to duck to avoid them. I saw a tiny knot of tourists ahead, crowding around something unidentifiable.

"There's something up there," I pointed, and we strolled over to investigate. It turned out to be a wishing well of sorts, though it was actually a piece of rock painted different colors, with several bowls labeled "Money" and "Lotto" and such, which presumably meant you would have good luck in those areas if you managed to toss your coin into the bowl.

"Oh! We must try," Johann insisted, his face lighting up in a way I hoped to never forget. He pulled out some change and gave me three pennies, keeping three for himself. His first shot fell short and rolled off the rock, but his second one came closer, lodging in a cranny, and his third finally fell into the bowl he had been aiming for -- the one labeled "Love."

"Ah! Sweet success!" he cried. He turned his brown eyes on me and smiled. "If you have love, you don't need the other things."

I felt my mouth go dry, and could only nod. It would have been stupid to try for the one marked "Wealth" after that, so I aimed at the same little bowl as he had. My first one hit the rim and bounced off, landing with a clatter, but my second one landed with a little ching into the bowl.

"Very good! Only two tries!" Johann clapped. Several onlookers clapped as well. For the last penny I decided to try my luck at a bowl in a tiny grotto, labeled "Wisdom." I bent down and carefully plopped it in.

"Ah! A wise choice, and now you are twice lucky!"

"You think so?" I asked, more elated from watching Johann's reaction than any supposed luck I had won.

"Of course! Or maybe you are just good at this," he teased. I felt myself grinning like a fool again, but couldn't stop it. And I suddenly realized, I didn't care. It just felt good to be with Johann, and I didn't care if it showed. We wandered over to the next store, easily and naturally falling into step with each other.

"Ah! A China hat," Johann pointed out, but refrained from touching it, not wanting the shopkeeper to expect him to buy it. "It's amazing to me, how many different things they sell -- clothes and CDs and hats. And what are those?" he asked, looking at a bunch of sticks.

"Incense," I answered, stepping closer. "They have different smells when you burn them."

"In-sense," he said, nodding. "Yes, they use these in church, in the rauchfass, with smoke and smell."

I remembered something I had meant to ask him, long ago. "Johann, are you -- if you don't mind my asking -- are you Catholic?"

"Close," he answered with an affable smile. "I am more what you would call Eastern Orto--Orthodox, but it is close to Catholic. In Austria I go to Catholic church, yes."

"I see," I replied, although I wasn't sure I did. If he was a practicing Catholic (or Eastern Orthodox, or whatever), didn't that mean he couldn't be gay? I knew for a fact that the church I'd grown up in would never condone it, even if anyone were foolhardy enough to admit it in my little backwater town.

"And you?" he asked, "Do you belong to a church?"

"I used to," I said, slowly. "My mom used to take me -- she took all of us -- when she was around..."

"Ah! And your mother, I remember, is in the hands of God."

I nodded. "She was a good person. She -- she never lost her temper, and that's saying a lot, when she had four rambunctious boys."

Johann cocked his head a bit to one side. "What is this word -- ram--?"

"Rambunctious," I repeated apologetically. "It means, well, we were full of energy, always getting into trouble."

"Ah, yes! Your brothers and you, it is only natural you could not be good for long," he said with a knowing smile.

"Yeah... we kept her hands full," I said, not stopping to consider if he would understand that expression, but he seemed to figure it out from the context.

We bought a couple of Chinese music CDs, just for novelty's sake, before walking out again. As we got turned around in the labyrinthine streets, we realized that we were heading back towards the entrance when we saw a bus unloading a large group of tourists -- Japanese, I guessed, with very expensive-looking cameras.

"Say, are you hungry yet? Maybe we should find a place before it gets crowded..." I began, when a few women in the tour group saw us and screamed.

"Karutetto!!!" was the only word I recognized as they rushed en masse to surround us, snapping pictures and frantically searching their bags for paper and pens. It came as no surprise to me that the women mostly swarmed around Johann, touching him, shaking his hand, thrusting memo pads at him for autographs, as he obligingly smiled and tried to do three things at once. Even the menfolk, although they thankfully didn't press in like their wives, stood back and snapped away with their digital cameras. In the excitement, even I was pressed for autographs, which I was able to do in a much more leisurely fashion than Johann.

There was a lull when it seemed everyone who wanted my autograph had already gotten it, and I wondered if I should try to pull Johann out of the near-frenzied group of women. I noticed, though, that there was one woman in uniform, shouting something repeatedly, and realized that she was getting them to line up into single file, which made it much easier for Johann to shake each person's hand and sign whatever they had. I was struck with renewed admiration for him, as he exuded such warmth that anyone would have believed that he actually enjoyed being pawed and pestered by a bunch of total strangers.

"Sorry about this," said the uniformed woman, startling me with her perfect English. "They were all at your concert last night, and some of them are die-hard fans. They can't believe their good luck in finding Mr. Leitner here."

"Oh! Well, that certainly explains it."

She grinned, a bit sardonically. "They're here to see as many celebrities as they can find, and you two just may be the highlight of their trip. Good for our business, tough luck for you."

I grinned back. "Well, we're nothing without our fans."

"Speaking as one, myself," said the woman, "I'd like to offer you a bit of advice. First, don't even bother trying to eat lunch here -- they'll never give you a moment's peace."

"Yeah, good point..." I said, watching the tourists still craning their necks to look at Johann, taking who knows how many pictures.

"Second," she continued, "watch out for the photographers. You're in Tinseltown now, and anyone with a camera is a potential tabloid contributor. I don't want to see your names dragged through the mud like so many others' have been."

"Thanks, I'll remember that!" It was a point that hadn't even occurred to me.

"And third, since we've spoiled your chances at getting a decent lunch here, I'll let you in on a little secret -- it's bit of a hike, but they have good food at the Getty Museum, and their clientele is more... classy, if you know what I mean. Plus, if you go by cab, there's no admission fee."

"Really? And it's a Museum?"

"Yes, but what you really want to see is the garden! This is a perfect day for a picnic out there. I'd go, too, if I didn't have to work," she added ruefully.

"Thanks, I think we just might do that. Assuming I can ever get Johann away..."

"Oh, let me handle that," she said with determination in her eye. She started shouting again in Japanese, and I took my cue to pull Johann out of the crowd.

 

Chapter 6- A Memorable Cab Ride​

We found a cab quickly and left Chinatown behind, with some of the women from the tour group still taking pictures as the car left the curb. Johann smiled and waved for their benefit, but when he settled into his seat he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you for getting me out of that!" he said. "My hand is hurting from so much writing!"

I glanced at his right hand, resting on the seat between us, and resisted the urge to pick it up and massage it with my own.

"Sorry I didn't pull you out sooner, but you looked like you were actually having a good time," I commented.

"Yes, I don't mind, but there were so many of them!"

"The tour guide said they'd been to our concert last night."

"Really? Well, I'm glad of that," Johann said, with a tired little smile. "It is good to have fans."

I laughed. "Bet you already have enough to fill Madison Square Garden!"

He turned to look at me thoughtfully. "Brian?"

"Hm?"

"Do you mind... how does it go... 'sharing the limelight'?"

I looked at him, willing myself to be calm. "Johann, don't worry about a stupid thing like that! As if I were even a contender..."

"What does that mean, 'contender'?"

I thought for a moment. "It means, like a rival. I'm not really a competitor, because I'm not in the same league as you. Oh, jeez, that's another expression..."

"I know what it means," Johann interrupted, "but I don't agree. You are excellent singer, and you have more experience than me. Why do you say we are not in same league?"

I laughed -- as if it weren't obvious! "Johann, our fans aren't just looking for music, you know, especially the women. They're just as interested in our looks. And you're... well, you're drop-dead gorgeous, and I'm just a young Frankenstein."

"NO!" he cried, so loudly that even our driver (who, thankfully, spoke very little English) glanced at us in the mirror. "You are not Frankenstein, why do you say such thing?!"

"Johann," I said, feeling rather helpless trying to explain this, "I'm big, and I'm... well, I'm clumsy, too, and my face is square, which makes me look exactly like Frankenstein!" I tried to laugh, remembering when my brothers first pointed out the similarity. "All I need is a big bolt in my neck, and that could be my Halloween costume."

I flushed as Johann suddenly slid across the back seat to come closer to me, and I literally stopped breathing when he put his hand up against the side of my face.

"You are no monster, no Frankenstein," he said, very softly, and I thought my heart would either burst or melt into oblivion. "You are a good man, a kind man, and a man is supposed to be big and strong! And... I think... you are very handsome man, Brian."

For a long moment, I couldn't move or say a word. He had looked me straight in the eyes as he said this, and I was mesmerized by the truth in them. Then I noticed that his gaze was wandering down, towards my mouth. With a shock I realized he was going to kiss me.

"Brian..." he whispered, his voice like music. I couldn't respond, but my eyes closed on their own in anticipation. I felt his breath for a moment before his soft lips touched mine, and gently held them captive. It must have been like kissing a wet fish for him, since I was so entranced that I couldn't move, not even to kiss him back, but when he finally released me after what seemed like forever in dreamland, I realized that my hands had grabbed his waist instinctively, pulling him close. As he drew back a little and simply looked at me, the noise of the traffic around us came back to me in a roar, and the realization that I'd just kissed another man, for the first time in my life, hit me full force. What on earth was I thinking?!? But looking at Johann's peaceful face, I knew this was exactly what I wanted.

"Johann," I whispered, pulling him in for one more kiss, when the cab turned onto the exit ramp from the freeway. The sudden change of momentum knocked him off balance, and I held him tightly to steady him. A split second later, I noticed that he was clutching me with both hands, and I felt a rush of something warm -- I was big and strong, just like he needed me to be! I could protect him, and he wanted me to. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt like that... felt needed... Michelle was so self-sufficient, she rarely needed me for anything...

And that brought me to a crashing halt. Michelle. I was married to her. I shouldn't be having these feelings for another man -- or woman, for that matter. I had made an oath, a vow, a promise of the highest degree, to love and cherish only one person. A promise I had just broken.

"Johann... are you all right?" I mumbled, already feeling a deep sense of loss. I couldn't go through with this. I couldn't act on my impulses, no matter how right they felt, when I knew they were wrong.

"Yes," he answered quietly, easing his grip on me. Perhaps he felt it in the way that I held him, that something had changed, something was bothering me. He gazed into my eyes searchingly. "I'm sorry... I should not have..."

"Don't be," I cut him off, more harshly than I intended to. "I--I don't mind. It's just that..."

Before I could form the words, he nodded, understanding. "I know. You are married. And you are a good man." He pulled himself off of me to sit down in the middle of the car. "I should not ask you to do what you cannot do. For this I am sorry." He looked up at me again, in a way that made my heart break. "But I am not sorry to tell you what I feel, for this is truth, also. And I cannot pretend and lie any more."

I felt as though I'd been electrocuted. Johann had feelings for me?! And he'd been trying to hide it? I looked down blindly, unable to bear the crushing weight of this revelation. We'd both fallen in love, without each other knowing. And we were destined, it seemed, to be kept apart. I had found love, only to have it ripped away from me in the next instant.

As I drew a ragged breath, I saw his hands were clutching his knees, as though trying to keep a grip on something, anything, in this crazy world. I reached out to cover his right hand with my left, and bitterly recognized the glint of gold on my finger. The old ball-and-chain, I thought. I had chosen to marry a woman, for what seemed like all the right reasons at the time, but now I knew that the affection I felt for her had never come close to the powerful attraction I felt for Johann. I pulled his hand off of his knee and massaged it, like I had wanted to do earlier.

"Johann... I hope you understand..." I began, haltingly. "You mean more to me... more than my wife... or anyone else, ever could! I'm just, not free to... to act on my feelings, but if I could..."

Wordlessly, Johann pulled my hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss into the back of it. I felt something hot and wet, and saw to my horror that it was a tear that had slipped from his eye. I was devastated to know that I had caused him such pain -- pain that I understood only too well, being reflected in my own heart.

"Johann, I'm so sorry..." I began, but he hushed me with a sad smile.

"No, it is okay... I should be glad you feel something for me! I am only greedy, wanting more, when I know you cannot give more. Because I would not love you so much, if you were not you -- if you were not so kind, and good."

I felt torn in two, and gripped his hand tightly, wanting to anchor a part of him to me. His words still echoed in my mind, and I knew what I had to do -- the only thing I could do, under the circumstances. I leaned over to whisper in his ear, "I love you, Johann."

The taxi rolled to a stop in front of a tram station, and as I hastily paid the driver, Johann slipped out to stand blinking in the sun. I knew he was blinking back tears -- of both joy and sadness. Our hands had separated as a matter of course, and I was left wondering if they would ever be joined again. We boarded the tram for our ride up to the Getty Museum, and sat close together, but without touching.

 

Chapter 7- The Getty Center​

The tour guide hadn't been exaggerating about the delights of the Getty Center, with its museum and gardens that distracted us with a beautiful view of the city, exhibits of classical as well as modern art, and a nicely shaded patio where we sat down for lunch. We talked about art, we talked about the view, and we talked about the gleaming modern structures of the museum -- everything except what had just happened in the car. It was as though we had reached a tacit agreement to never bring it up again, but to pretend to be just two co-workers spending a day off together. It was bittersweet, yet I couldn't deny the moments of pure joy when I remembered, still with some disbelief, that Johann loved me. Thinking of the kiss made my lips burn and my face flush, so I was glad for the sunny day, which allowed me to blame any redness on the heat of the sun.

Johann seemed to be having similar problems, and would blush and smile at odd moments, sending chills up my spine. This being California, and so close to San Francisco, nobody was surprised to see two men together, although I noticed many people -- men and women alike -- turned to do a double-take at Johann. He was, after all, strikingly handsome, and they were probably wondering if he were a movie star. The women, especially, were probably drooling, but they could drool all they wanted! I felt smug knowing that somehow, Johann had chosen me. And every time I thought about it, I was left speechless.

I was flattered, honored, and humbled. I felt terrible that I couldn't return his love in the manner it deserved, but no matter how I looked at it, there was always Michelle. Michelle, who had never complained of my long and frequent trips for work, and who couldn't possibly suspect that I had fallen in love with someone else so suddenly -- let alone another guy! I couldn't betray her, not like that. It wasn't her fault that I hadn't known my own heart. She deserved to have a husband who was faithful to her, in deed at least, if not fully in spirit, and I was determined to keep my wedding vow. Even if, I thought with a wrench, that meant letting Johann go.

He must have sensed something of my thoughts, or my face might have betrayed them, for Johann looked up at me with a quizzical expression. "Brian? Are you okay?"

I forced a smile, which must have come out as a grimace. I know I'm no actor. "Yeah."

We were standing in an upstairs gallery with some famous paintings even I could recognize. Johann bit his lip thoughtfully.

"Why don't we have some coffee in the garden? And... talk."

I nodded. I wasn't sure I was up to it, but there was a lot of stuff that needed to be worked out, especially since we still had two weeks left on our tour, and would have to work together during that time.

We picked up some lattes at the café and walked down to the garden in comfortable silence. A lot of people were sunbathing on the lawn, but there were some empty chairs under the sculptured bougainvillea arbors, so I pulled two of them further into the shade for more privacy. For a minute we simply sat there, sipping our drinks and taking in the view. I felt Johann's gaze come to rest on me.

"Brian... I'm sorry I make things... awkward..." he began. I shook my head.

"Don't apologize, it was... amazing."

"It was selfish of me," he insisted. "I know this... is not possible. I knew it, and still, I could not stop myself... But I only put you in bad position, uncomfortable."

"Johann, please, don't worry about that," I pleaded. "You have no idea how happy I am, just to know that you... could think of me, that way."

A smile crept into his face as he looked down at the circular hedges of the pool.

"How could I not?" he murmured, almost to himself. "When I first heard you sing, my heart sang with you! I never knew, until I met you, what love songs truly mean. I never dreamed how it could be... You opened my eyes, and my heart. For this, I will thank you always."

I came close to tears as I heard him describe exactly how I felt. "Johann... that's how it was for me, too, when I realized... well, I was shocked at first that I could even consider... but it was only possible because it was you," I muddled, knowing even while the words tumbled out that I wasn't making much sense, but Johann seemed to understand. He had an uncanny knack for comprehending things -- especially people -- just by looking at them. Which led me to a question I had been wanting to ask.

"How... when... did you know? That I... I felt... this way?"

His warm eyes came back to me as he considered it. "I didn't know, not really... but last night, I thought... the way you looked at me, gave me hope. I... I couldn't sleep all night, wondering..." he confessed.

The concept flabbergasted me. I had caused Johann to spend a sleepless night? Me? And to think, I had tried to hide my feelings, from him most of all!

"Johann, I'm sorry, I should have told you... I've known, ever since London, but I didn't think you'd be interested in me..."

His eyes grew wide in surprise. "Really?!? But I... I was so stupid! I was already hoping, dreaming, so when you came with flowers, I just..." His fair complexion turned pink with embarrassment. "I was afraid you thought I was silly, after that! I believed you would never look at me again... but you were kind, and I said, he is being nice to the stupid one, he is too kind to treat even a fool bad, and that made me love you more and more..."

All this time, I thought, with wonder. All this time Johann had been hanging on my every word, hoping for even a hint that I liked him... and now -- now that he finally knows -- to have his joy cut short because my marriage is standing in the way! Despite the fact that I didn't know him back then, I felt responsible for having married Michelle, making the ultimate mistake that barred at least two, if not all three of us, from happiness.

"I'm so sorry, Johann," I breathed, my words nearly lost on the breeze.

"What? What did you say, Brian?"

I let out a sigh. "I just wish... I had waited for you."

Sensing his gaze on me as we sat in silence, I finally managed to look up at him. Although his eyes were fixed on me, his mind seemed to be a hundred miles away.

"Johann?"

"I wish, too," he whispered, "that I could have... waited for you, also."

I didn't understand what he meant by that, and my confusion must have been obvious.

"I must tell you... no, I want to tell you," he began. "I don't want you to... blame yourself only for this -- for separating us." He drew a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I did not tell you, but... I am not, what you call, 'free agent,' actually. I... I belong to... another man."

In shock, I nearly dropped my latte. A cruel voice in the back of my mind cried, See! I told you so. He has a boyfriend. I opened my mouth to say something, but my mind went blank, and I simply sat there, gaping.

Johann had turned to look out towards the city spread below us, his expression still far away.

"It is hard to tell... but I will begin at the start. I am not Austrian, as my passport says, but Romanian. I lost my father when I was very small, and in that time, many people disappeared, but nobody asked questions -- it was too dangerous. Ceauşescu was still in power, and the police worked for him only."

He swallowed, and I could see how difficult it was for him to remember all this.

"My mother tried her best to take care of me. We thought, when Ceauşescu was dead, that life would be better. But next year, there was the June Mineriad -- miners were brought into the city by Iliescu, to crush his opposition. My mother... she was, as they say, in the wrong place at the wrong time..."

His voice choked with emotion. It was surreal to be discussing such violence in the tranquil setting of the garden.

"I was sent to orphanage when the neighbors knew my mother was dead. It was a bad place, but I was still better than others -- I remembered my mother, at least. Most others there were left as a baby, with no hope for a family. It was before that famous television report..."

"I saw the documentary," I interrupted. My voice was tight. Those images had haunted me, even as young teenager.

Johann nodded. "So you know, I would do anything to leave that place. I was... lucky, some might say. A rich Austrian man bought me, and took me to his home. He taught me German, and had tutors teach me until I was ready to go to school. He gave me food, and clothes, and kept me in his beautiful house. It was... much better place than the orphanage..."

A horrible suspicion was creeping into my mind. "Johann," I asked, fearing the answer, "He didn't... he didn't...?"

Johann nodded, biting his lip so hard that I worried it would bleed. He was gazing at the ground now, fighting back tears.

"I'm so sorry... oh, Johann! I'm so sorry!"

I couldn't think of anything else to say.

After a minute or two, he regained his composure, and continued, his voice quavering only slightly.

"So, I owe this man my life. And for that... I am thankful. But he took from me the one thing I had left... my childhood..."

I got out of my chair and knelt at his feet, wanting to embrace him but afraid to touch him. Since I had intercepted his view of the ground, he could not avoid looking at me. And as I gazed at him with unutterable longing, he knew what I wanted to do for him, and flung himself into my arms, and wept for a long time on my shoulder.

 

Chapter 8- Serafim Radu ​

As Johann let his emotions run free in my arms, I was startled to hear some scattered applause from the other visitors at the Getty Center. I peered around, cautiously, and saw people smiling at the two of us. Johann was clutching my clothes, his head bowed down to rest on my shoulder, so it was difficult to see much else, not to mention think. But eventually the idea dawned on me that, since I was on one knee in front of Johann, and he had fallen into my embrace, it might look like I had proposed to him. I was sure that a few months ago, the thought would never even have occurred to me, but now it seemed almost normal for two men to be lovers.

Lovers, maybe, but not a married couple -- the legal battle still raged in this country, with the state of California in the thick of the action. But even if it became possible for two men to marry, I thought with disappointment, we two couldn't be, since I was already married to a woman. I didn't want to blame Michelle unfairly, but the fact remained that the only impediment to Johann and my happiness was her -- and my own stupidity for marrying so young, without a true understanding of love. So, really, I had only myself to blame.

When Johann's tears subsided, he let go of me to dig in his pockets for a handkerchief. As he wiped his face, he seemed embarrassed for having broken down, but I was astounded to realize that he had managed to stay so cheerful and positive, despite such a horrible background. I didn't want to pry, but something was bothering me, and I had to ask.

"Johann... how old were you, when...?"

I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence. Thankfully, I didn't have to.

"I was eleven when... my mother died. I... moved to Austria, later that year, before Christmas."

I stroked his hair tenderly, thinking how small and vulnerable he must have been at such a young age. It was too young to lose one's innocence, it was an outrage -- and yet, how many stories as sad, if not worse, were there around the world? I had been fortunate enough to be born in an affluent country, in a society where the law was not dictated by whoever had control of the police and army, or subverted by threats and bribes. I was ignorant, too absorbed in my own petty problems, to hear their silent cries. Well, now that our group was a success and I had some real money, maybe I could make a difference in the world. If I could do anything, it would be to help children like Johann.

He seemed to be settling down after confiding his secret to me. He looked up with a wan smile, which quickly turned to concern.

"Brian...?" he asked, and brought a corner of his handkerchief up to my cheek. I hadn't realized that I was crying, too. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to burden you..."

"No, it's okay, I'm glad you told me," I assured him. "I want to know everything about you. I'm glad that you feel safe enough with me to talk about it. I can't even imagine how hard it must have been..." Suddenly, I remembered something.

"Wait, Johann... you said you aren't free now, but you don't -- you can't possibly mean, you're still seeing him?!?"

Johann swallowed hard, and looked down at his hands.

"Brian... this man... gave me everything. I have work now, I have my own money for the first time, but still... I owe him so much... He has let me go for the tour, and for work -- I have my own apartment, now, too -- but he is lonely, and he wants me to talk to, to... keep him company..."

"But... Johann! This man... what he did... After all that, how could you?!"

He looked at me earnestly, with only a hint of sadness.

"I know what he did, when I was a boy, was bad, but please don't think he is bad man! He lost his wife to the cancer, and was very lonely when he found me. He paid for my education, so I could talk with him, understand his business, and... he even found a teacher for singing, so I could sing for him."

Johann leaned forward in his chair towards me, desperate to make me understand.

"Without him, I would not know how to sing, so I would not have met you, Brian, or anybody else. And if... if he did not take me, from the orphanage, I would have died..."

I knew it was true, but it was still difficult to accept. I took his hands, handkerchief and all, into my own, and bent my head to kiss them. Johann slipped out one hand to comb through my hair, just as I had done to his, and cradled my head in his lap.

"I know, it is hard to forgive," he said, softly, and I could tell he had thought about it often. "But I forgive him each day, when I see the sun rise. I can forgive him because now, I have life, and something worth living for. When I met you... I was glad to be living... I think, for the first time..."

I looked up and our eyes locked. The peace in his seemed to flow into me as well, and I was finally able to nod, and squeezed his hand. He bowed to touch his forehead to mine.

"I want, when this tour is done, to see him for the last time, to tell him it must be over... Now I know what love is, I cannot be with him. I think... I hope, he will understand."

"What if... he doesn't?"

Johann smiled with amusement flickering in his brown eyes.

"He is old now, I think I can refuse him if he doesn't... take 'No' for an answer."

I felt like I could drown in those beautiful eyes forever. He kept looking at me, somewhat wistfully.

"Brian... there is one more thing, I want you to know..."

Although a bit nervous about more bombshell revelations, I replied, "Yeah?"

"My real name, is Serafim Radu."

"Serafim..." I repeated, almost reverently. It seemed so appropriate for him, since he was, in every way, angelic. His face crinkled in a blissful smile.

"In my dreams... you call me so. Now my dream has come true!"

"You dream... of me?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Yes," he confessed, blushing. "Every night."

"Johann... why me?"

The question slipped out before I could stop to consider it.

"Why?" he echoed, his brows rising in surprise. "I can't help it. In my dreams, I see people I love -- my mother, sometimes my father -- but now, it is always you."

"I--I mean..." I stopped, flustered. Should I even ask such a thing? But Johann, watching my face, guessed what I was trying to get at.

"Why I fall in love with you? Oh, Brian!" he sighed. "It's magic, it happen to me like... like destiny. I met you, I think you very handsome..."

It was my turn to blush.

"And your voice, so strong, so... manly! I fell in love with your singing first, I think. But then, you are such nice guy, always kind... I think to myself, how nice it would be to stay with you all the time, not just when we're working..."

A shy smile played on his lips, making me turn even redder.

"Brian, you don't give yourself enough... credit? Is that how you say?"

I nodded, bumping his forehead lightly.

"You are very good man, always honest, always kind. You are so big and strong, but never get angry, even when Cesare and Luc are stubborn! I--I love your eyes, always warm... your mouth, when you smile... I see your big hands..." he said, looking down at them, "and wish, to be held in them, to be safe forever, in your arms..."

In that moment, I felt like I understood something, a small portion of the answer. He needed someone to protect him, to let him feel safe, after all the hurt and fear in his early life. Someone... stable. Comforting. And for reasons I still couldn't fully fathom, he seemed to have found those qualities in me.

"Johann... no, Serafim," I corrected myself, and was rewarded by his happy smile again. "I would like nothing more than to keep you safe in my arms, forever. I don't know... what's going to happen in the future, and I'm sorry, I--I can't make any promises, but... if I can, if there's any way to get Michelle to agree to it, I want to... fix things, so I can be with you. So we can be together."

His eyes grew as wide as I had ever seen them, and he whispered, "You... will?"

I didn't know how Michelle would take it, but I knew I had to try. "I'll do my best."

Johann -- Serafim -- stared at me for what seemed like hours. When he finally started to say something, he broke down into tears again, his hands trembling so badly that I instinctively grabbed them and held them. He found my shoulder again, and leaned against me, sobbing uncontrollably. I simply held him as close as I could and waited for him to calm down.

I heard some footsteps behind me and looked up to see an elderly woman holding out a pack of tissues. She winked, her eyes bordered by a hundred laugh lines, and said demurely, "I'm assuming he said 'Yes.'" I could only nod, and accepted the tissues wordlessly. Johann gasped and looked up, confused, but realizing what the lady had given us, he tried to smile in gratitude. She smiled back and made her leisurely way out of the arbor.

"What--What did she say?" Johann asked, as I pulled out one of the tissues for him.

"Oh," I replied, a bit awkwardly, "I think she thought I'd proposed to you."

The hand which he'd used to take the tissue stopped in mid-air.

"Oh!" he said. As he buried his face in it, a short laugh escaped him.

"Almost, right?" he asked, somewhat bashfully.

"As good as, yes," I answered firmly.

 

Chapter 9- Escape from the Photographer ​

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of happiness, as we wandered through the gardens and stunning architecture of the Center, pausing to admire the view of the city, or slowly making our way through an art exhibit. Although we refrained from any more public displays of affection (remembering the tour guide's warning about paparazzi), we stood and walked so close together that anyone with half a brain could tell we were a couple. But at this point, I didn't really care.

I couldn't remember the exact moment that I'd decided to pursue this relationship with Johann and try to get out of my marriage, but after finding out all that he had been through, it seemed like the only right thing to do. It should have been enough that we had both fallen in love, and perhaps I would have come around eventually (after all, there were still two weeks left of our tour), but knowing how badly he needed someone who would treat him right, and that he had been willing to part ways with his... patron, for want of a better word, even before I had committed to breaking up with my wife, was what clinched it for me. I couldn't let him lose the only stable factor in his life (such as it was) on my account, and not give him anything in return. And the simple truth was that I wanted him, and the more time we spent together, the more powerful the attraction became, until I couldn't picture a future without him in my life.

As we meandered through a collection of modern sculptures, I started telling him a bit about my family. He was interested to know that I had three brothers -- "Just like our group!" he'd commented -- so I was telling him about their jobs, kids, et cetera. Johann seemed a bit wistful as he figured out how large my extended family was, with "more cousins than you could shake a stick at," as I told him.

"It is a good thing to have such family," he sighed. "I know I had cousins, but once I was sent to the orphanage, there was no way to find them again. They must think I am dead, even if they remember me at all..."

There were very few people in that part of the gallery, so I quickly grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He flashed me a bright smile that dispelled the traces of sadness from his eyes.

"Brian, your family... your father, and brothers... what do you think... they would say about... us?"

I paused for a long moment. I knew immediately what their reaction would be, but wasn't sure how to break it to Johann -- or Serafim, as I kept reminding myself.

"I think... my dad, anyway, would disown me... Do you know what that means?"

He nodded, with deepening concern.

"My brothers would be shocked, first of all, then they'd make rude jokes about it, and I'd never hear the end of it... Some of them might be ashamed of me, and refuse to have anything to do with me. But don't worry, I've been practically disowned ever since I chose music as my career..."

"What? Why?!?"

I smiled, although I knew I couldn't hide the resignation on my face.

"They don't think what we do is real work, since it doesn't involve getting your hands dirty and sweating like a pig. It's... sissy stuff. You know what a sissy is?"

"Like... a fairy?" he ventured. I nodded.

"Yeah, so, I was already pegged to be a fairy, or sissy -- not a real man, you know -- so if they find out about us, they would just say it was... inevitable. Like they saw it coming!" I laughed. "Even I had no idea! Besides, it's just stupid to think that a guy who likes music is gay. And they don't realize how much hard work it is to sing -- how much we sweat during a recording session! But they're just ignorant, and I've had the benefit of seeing the world on this tour..."

A small group came into the gallery, and he discreetly slipped his hand out of mine. I let him go with only an inward sigh.

"All they know is the small town we grew up in," I continued. "People don't often have different ideas when they're stuck in the same environment, year after year, and in the rare cases they do, they're not treated well. I guess I was the oddball, getting into music..."

"Why did you? Get into music," Johann asked.

"My mother," I replied. "She took us to church, made us sing in the kids' choir, and she liked music herself. Not that she had any training, but she used to sing us to sleep, lullabys or little ditties she made up on the spot. When she passed, I was still pretty young..." Though not, I thought to myself, as young as Johann had been when he'd lost his mother. "Anyway, the lady at church who organized the choir started giving me voice lessons -- she told my dad she needed me to mow her lawn, and would feed me dinner for it, but she gave me lessons afterwards. I think she was trying to keep me busy so I wouldn't miss my mom too much. It was really neat how she made me think it was a business deal, so I felt like I was earning it. I mean, I mowed her lawn and did stuff around the house for her, but there's no way it came close to what she should have charged for the lessons! But if you ask her, even today, she'll insist she got the better end of the bargain." I had to shake my head at that, but with a chuckle.

"She is probably very proud of you, then," Johann said, thoughtfully. "I think... you have repaid her well. There is sometimes nothing better for a teacher, than to have their pupil succeed. She must be happy to know you are singing, that she first trained you so you could be a blessing to everyone else."

I blushed involuntarily. "Well... I know she's tickled that I've been able to make a living from what she's taught me, and she gets a kick out of seeing me on TV..."

Johann gave me a smile that was half twisted with a rueful expression.

"Brian, you must not be so hard on yourself! Your voice is beautiful -- so deep, yet so pure! It is a gift not many have, and it must be shared. People who love music are... touched by it. I am lucky to hear you each day."

"You, lucky! I'm the one who's lucky, I get to hear your voice every day! You sound just like an angel, my Serafim..."

I wanted so much to kiss him, right then and there, but I heard footsteps and saw an attendant approaching our quiet corner of the gallery.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, the Center will be closing in a few minutes. If you could make your way down to the entrance..."

We took a cab back to the hotel, and on the way up to our rooms to freshen up for dinner, I told Johann not to bother inviting the other two -- "Let's just go, just the two of us."

He looked startled, then a shy smile crept across his lips.

"Like a... date?"

"Yeah."

I hoped he didn't hear the furious pounding from my chest. You'd think I wouldn't keep reacting like a teenager with his first crush by now! But I could swear I saw him blushing, too, as he slipped out of the elevator and into his room.

We met back down in the lobby, where I asked the concierge for a list of good restaurants within walking distance. He actually took out a map of the area and circled a few that he recommended, so, map in hand, we walked out intending to have a leisurely stroll down to the one that piqued Johann's interest. However, the moment we stepped out of the hotel doors, I heard the familiar clicking sound of a camera. I don't mind being photographed -- that's just the price of fame -- but I did think it was rather rude to take it without saying anything. And looking up, I saw that it was obviously not one of our fans (who would have come up and talked to us first), but a professional photographer, probably from one of the tabloids.

I glanced over at Johann, who had also noticed the cameraman but only shrugged with a "What can you do?" expression and kept walking. As we made our way down the sidewalk filled with people going home from work or, like us, headed out for dinner, I could tell that the guy was still following us. When Johann slowed down in front of a store window to glance at some shoes, I said nonchalantly in French, "Pouvez-vous courir au prochain coin?" [Can you run to the next corner?]

He turned to me and flashed a brilliant, conspiratorial smile. "Bien sûr!" [Of course!] he replied.

We continued to amble at a moderate pace, but the moment I thought there were relatively fewer pedestrians ahead of us, I said, "Now!" and we both took off running. Not just jogging, but flat-out running, and in dress shoes, no less. As we neared the curb, I thought I heard the guy behind us stumble and swear. "Tournez à gauche," [Turn left] I called out to Johann, and he deftly avoided some women with shopping bags as he rounded the corner, and I slipped by them in his wake, stifling the urge to laugh since I needed my breath. Thankfully, the street we had turned onto was less crowded, and I watched in admiration as Johann pelted down the sidewalk with the light tread of a sprinter -- like a gazelle, I thought.

With my longer legs I was able to catch up to him before long, and seeing an auspicious department store ahead of us, I panted, "In there!" and tugged on his elbow to draw him inside. We narrowly missed some shoppers coming out, and dashed into the men's clothing area. I ducked behind a row of shelves with sweaters, and Johann followed suit, stumbling to his knees and holding onto the shelf for support. We looked at each other and started giggling like a pair of schoolboys.

"Shhh!" came a voice from the other side of the shelf. "Here he comes," warned a young store clerk with bleached blonde hair, and continued to fold sweaters. I squatted to hide completely behind the shelf.

"Okay, he's gone now," the clerk said after a moment. He peered over the shelf with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"You're the guys from Quartetto, aren't you?!"

 

Chapter 10- Loud Shirts ​

The clerk, a guy in his twenties, glanced over his shoulder in the direction that the cameraman had gone.

"I think it's safe now, but just to be sure, I can let you out through the stock room."

"Thank you," Johann said, touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Yeah, thanks," I added. "It's not like we're not used to getting our pictures taken, but that guy was following us, and just plain rude."

"No prob!" the clerk answered. "Come this way."

He led us through a door obviously marked "Employees Only" to a room full of boxes, where he found a large memo pad.

"Do you mind signing something for my roommate? He's a big fan of yours, which is why I recognized you. I'm into grunge metal, myself, but your music is cool, too. Great date music!"

"What's your roommate's name?" I asked, pen poised.

"Mark. I'm Colton, by the way. Are you guys in town for the Tonight Show?"

"How'd you guess?" Johann laughed, as I wrote, "To Mark -- all the best!" and signed it.

"We get a lot of celebrities staying at the hotel around the corner. Some of them even shop here, if they have the time. We keep some flashy stuff stocked for them, too, just in case."

"Flashy stuff?" I asked, handing the note for Johann to sign.

"Yeah, like the silk shirts we just got in -- they're awesome colors but I don't know any guys who could pull them off in real life. It's not exactly prèt à porté... Say!" he said suddenly, and I could almost see a light bulb go on above his head. "Would you guys like to try some on? You do concerts and stuff in trick lighting, right? And jeez, you could probably pull it off in broad daylight!" he said, regarding Johann with a new, professional interest. "Just a sec, I'll go get a few."

As we waited in the slightly chilly back room, a thought occurred to me. "You know, that guy is pretty smart. He's trapped us back here so we can't get out without buying something."

Johann laughed, and I loved to see how his eyes sparkled and his cheeks lifted.

"That would be a very good way to do business. We are a... captive audience."

I grinned back at him as Colton came in with several shirts on hangars. I could see why he didn't think they were for just anybody -- the colors ranged from wine red and royal blue to canary yellow and emerald green.

"Wow! That hurts my eyes..." I commented, blinking.

"Doesn't it, though? But I think," he said, holding out a red one to Johann, "this would look great on you!"

"Really?" Johann asked, a bit dubiously. "I don't think I ever wear red before..."

But I could already tell that it brought out the rosy complexion of his skin. "Try it on, Johann!" I urged.

"Okay." He took off his suit coat and white dress shirt, making my heart skip when I saw him in just an undershirt for the first time since London. The one Colton had given him was just the right size, and he looked very dashing, very handsome, and very sexy in it. Colton gave a low whistle.

"Jeez, you look good enough to eat! You'll have to beat back the girls with a stick. Heck, you'll have to beat back the guys with a stick!" he said, making Johann blush an even deeper shade of pink.

"What do you think, Brian?"

"I like it. It brings out your color. Try your jacket on top," I suggested, and the effect was very classy.

"Oh, yeah!" Colton said admiringly. "You are smoking hot in that!"

"Okay," Johann grinned. "You win. I'll buy it. Now, can you let us go?"

As the two of us laughed, Colton stammered, "Hey! I--I didn't mean, like, you know!"

"It's all right, we're just teasing," I assured him.

"Yes, but if I get this one," Johann added, "we need to get one for Brian, too."

I tried to protest, but Johann wanted me to try on a blue one, and I realized that I couldn't say no to him. Colton had brought out a few in taller sizes, but the blue one was a bit tight in the shoulders.

"Hang on, I'll get one more size up. I didn't notice how big your shoulders are," Colton apologized and ran out to the store.

As I unbuttoned and slipped off the small one, I saw Johann watching me with a dreamy expression. Self-conscious now, I asked, "What?"

"Nothing." He blushed. "It's just... you look good, in that sleeveless shirt. Lots of muscles." He swallowed, and my mind went numb from the realization that he, of all people, found me attractive. "I know you work out in the gym, lifting weights, but I never see you... like this, before."

"Well," my brain floundered, "you could go with me, to the gym. We could lift weights together."

Johann beamed at the idea. "Yes! I would like that... a lot."

We were interrupted, or at least it felt like it, by Colton coming back in. "This should fit better," he said, handing me another royal blue shirt which, being silk, reflected the light with its smooth sheen. When I put it on, Johann clapped his hands together in delight.

"Yes, yes, this is right for you!" he said, walking around me to check the fit. "Very macho, very nice!"

"Yeah?" I asked, wishing there were a mirror so I could see for myself.

"Here, you put on your jacket, too." Johann held it out for me to slip into, then came back to my front and nodded. "Yes, it is good." He stepped near me to straighten out my collar, and I had to resist the urge to pull him into a bear hug.

"Wow. You're right, Johann, that really is his color!" Colton said, stepping back and eyeing me appraisingly. "Hey, I know you guys were just running from the camera guy, but... would you mind if I took a shot of you with my cell phone? Mark would be so tickled to see you guys back here. Actually, he's gonna be jealous to know he missed seeing you..."

I looked over at Johann. "We don't mind. Actually, if you want to call Mark, we could talk to him for a minute." Johann nodded his approval.

"Really?! That would be awesome!" Colton looked at the two of us in amazement. "You have no idea how great that would be for Mark! I mean, he practically worships you... He's studying music, you see, and he can sing pretty good, but nothing like you guys..."

He brought out his cell and started fiddling with the buttons.

"How do you want us to pose?" Johann asked.

"Um... any way is great, really... Maybe back-to-back, and look sort of, you know, sultry?"

Johann looked at me curiously. "What is 'sultry'?"

"Hot and sexy," I told him. "Just drop your chin a bit, and look up into the camera. I usually end up looking more frightening than sexy, but here goes nothing..."

As I tried posing, I felt a light swat on my rear. I looked at Johann in surprise. His expression was grim.

"That's for insulting my friend," he said coolly, and I felt a flush working up my neck. I realized I had started to run myself down again, which I knew I shouldn't do, but if Johann was going to reward me with love pats, it was going to be a hard habit to kick.

"All right, guys, say 'Cheese and crackers!'" Colton called, aiming the cell phone at us.

"Cheese!" we chorused, and the familiar clicking sound answered.

"Aww, great shot!" We crowded around to see the image he had just taken. I had to agree that, even on the small screen, the blue shirt did something for me. And the smug smile on Johann's face was just too cute to pass up.

"Hey, can you send that to my cell?" I asked Colton. He looked startled.

"S--Sure, but... you'd give me your cell number?"

I honestly hadn't thought of that, but I couldn't back out now. "Yeah, but don't give it out to any rabid fans. Or even normal ones, really. Knowledge is power... D'you think Mark would abuse having such power?"

Colton thought a moment. "Yeah, he probably would. Okay, I won't let him know about it -- I'll just send him a copy. That should keep him happy enough, anyway."

As Colton sent the photo to me and to Mark separately, Johann and I changed back into the shirts we'd come in.

"Say," Johann said to Colton, "do you think you could guess my friends' sizes, too? I would like to get one for each of us. I think... another red for Cesare, and blue for Luc."

"How big would you say they are?" Colton replied.

"Luc is almost same size as me, but skinny. Cesare is bigger around, shorter in the arms."

"Okay, I think I can handle that!" He came back in a few minutes with two more shirts, which we held up and agreed would probably fit the other two members of our group.

Johann handed him a credit card and said, "I pay for all of them."

"Wait, I can get my own..." I began, but Johann cut me off with a smirk.

"No, I will buy your shirt, because," he leaned closer to say, in a low voice, "you are buying dinner!"

 

Chapter 11- Drama at the Ristorante ​

After chatting to Colton's astonished roommate for a few minutes, he "finally" let us out through the back door, pointing out on our map where we were coming out. It was only a short walk to the Ristorante -- we had covered more ground than I'd guessed when we'd run down the street.

Johann was completely at ease walking into the high-end restaurant with a large shopping bag, which he casually asked the coatroom clerk to keep for him, slipping him a sizeable tip to ensure good service. The maître d' either recognized us or assumed that a man with Johann's good looks had to be a celebrity of some sort, and immediately arranged for a table; it probably helped that we were still early for the dinner hour, plus it was a weeknight. We sat down to a glittering array of glasses and silverware, reflecting the light from the candles on each table. I thought, feeling slightly nervous, that this was the best "first date" spot I'd ever managed. I used to get worried when the prices weren't listed on the menus, but thanks to the success of our group, I didn't have to be as concerned anymore. Besides, we didn't eat out that often -- dinner was usually a catered platter of sandwiches in some dressing room. It felt nice to just sit and relax for a change. And of course, Johann was sitting across from me, so I had the best view in the house.

It wasn't until after we had ordered that I looked around the room and saw, to my surprise, Cesare and Luc sitting in a booth in the corner. They didn't seem to have noticed us.

"Look who's here," I said to Johann, nodding in their direction. He turned around to look, since they were at an angle behind him.

"Oh! Well..." Johann let his words trail off. The waiter came to serve our wine, and I noticed that the other two must have been here for some time already -- their waiter was bringing out another bottle for them.

After giving the cork a cursory sniff, we lifted our glasses. "What shall we drink to?" I asked.

"To love and happiness," Johann answered with a smile. I knew I didn't need alcohol to get drunk as long as I could gaze at him smiling, but took a sip anyway. It was good stuff, even to my untrained palate. Touring through Europe had given me an appreciation for fine wine and food, which was a far cry from my beer and barbeque roots. I watched as Johann bit into a slice of bruschetta.

"Delicious!" he said, and added with a grin, "If you don't hurry, I might eat them all!"

I was chewing through mine when I happened to glance over at Cesare and Luc's table again, and nearly choked. They were in a cozy wrap-around booth, and had moved to the center so that they were sitting right next to each other. But what made me almost inhale my food was that Cesare had whispered something in Luc's ear, and in the same movement had kissed his cheek.

"What?" Johann asked, noticing my apoplectic expression. He followed my line of sight to the other table. Luc chose that moment to sidle up against Cesare, and laid his head on his shoulder. Cesare's arm wrapped, very naturally, around the younger man.

"Oh!" was all Johann said before he turned back around. "Well... I was sure they could... amuse themselves, today, while we were gone."

Realizing that he wasn't at all surprised by their behavior, I blurted, "You knew?!?"

This time, Johann was startled. "You mean... you didn't?!?"

We stared at each other for a moment.

"Are you telling me...?"

"I thought... everyone knew..."

"Since when?!?"

"Since before we joined. Cesare insisted that Luc be part of our group. They were... involved, for some time."

"But... but..." I sputtered. "Cesare has a wife, and kids!"

Johann looked at me steadily. "Yes, and he loves them, very much. But you see... he does not think it is strange to have... other lovers, beside his family."

My jaw must have been hanging down for a full minute before I recollected myself and snapped it shut.

Johann explained gently, "I know, you cannot approve, but it is just... a different way. I met Cesare's wife, when we were in Milano. She knows, I am sure, but she is... okay with it. She knows he will never leave her, because he needs a wife for... publicity. Respect. And he is very good father to the girls. They have understanding."

I took another swig of the wine in a futile attempt to wrap my mind around it.

"Okay... I guess... Judas Priest! It's just... weird..."

Johann's smile seemed a bit sad as he said, "I know. You are too honest to cheat your wife. That is why... I... I never think..."

I quickly reached out for his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that! It's just... it caught me by surprise. I can understand how it can happen, like it did for me -- it's not a matter of choice. But I just don't get how his wife can be... okay with it." I shook my head at the thought. "Michelle would kill me if she knew I was seeing someone on the side. Which," as another thought occurred to me, "is sort of what I'm doing already..."

Johann looked up at me apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I never mean to put you in bad position..."

I cut him off with a definite shake of my head.

"No, don't ever say you're sorry about... about us. This is the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Okay," Johann answered quietly, relief evident in his eyes.

Our waiter was approaching with our first course, so I slipped my hand off of Johann's and pretended to reach for another bruschetta. Not that I believed I was fooling anyone, but I had to at least try to keep up appearances. The restaurant was beginning to fill up with more people, too.

Even though the soup was delicious, and Johann was talking about music, I couldn't help looking over at the other half of our group every so often. Apparently, they were having a very good time, and must have downed at least three bottles of wine. They could both handle their liquor, I knew, but what concerned me was the lack of food to go with it, and the fact that they were growing blatant about their relationship. Before our second course was served, they were openly kissing, and not just quick little pecks.

"Johann," I said, in a low voice, "I hate to be a wet blanket, but do you think... I should say something? I'm afraid... if someone recognizes them..."

He turned around and watched them making out for a long moment. When he faced me again, there was concern in his eyes.

"They have been careful, always, before. I'm shocked that they don't care tonight! I think, I must speak to them..."

But before we could debate who should be the one to go, I saw something that made me jump to my feet. Another customer, sitting near them, had just taken a picture with his cell phone -- right when they were kissing. From the way he held his cell, there was no doubt what he was aiming at, and I even caught a glimpse of their image on the display screen. Before I stopped to think, I'd crossed the room and snatched it away from him.

"HEY!" he cried angrily, then started as he recognized who I was. All six feet of me towered over him.

"Hey, yourself," I snarled. "What d'you think you're doing? Blackmail? Extortion?!?"

I felt, rather than saw, Johann grab me from behind.

"Please, Brian!" he pleaded, in a whisper that was pitched to carry. "Don't kill him! He isn't worth it!"

Although I knew immediately that Johann was trying to psych him out, the man in front of me blanched. His wife, or date, looked like she might faint.

"I told him not to!" she protested weakly. "He wouldn't listen!"

Before I could smash the cell phone into smithereens, though, the maître d' had smelled trouble and slipped into position.

"Is there a problem, sir?" he asked me, respectfully but with an undertone of displeasure.

"Yes, there is. I caught this guy snapping pictures of my friends," with a nod to Cesare and Luc, who finally seemed to have caught on to the situation, "in a... potentially compromising position. And if he thinks he can sell them to the tabloids or use them for blackmail..." I left the rest of my threat unsaid.

"You--You can't just take that! That's mine!" the man protested, getting his dander up after his initial shock. "I'll--I'll charge for damages!"

"You want damages?" I growled. "Would you rather I smash the phone, or your face?!?"

Johann whimpered behind me. "No, no, don't do it, Brian! Remember what happened with the other man, when you broke his arm? It will be too bad -- please, don't hurt him!"

Of course, I had never broken anyone's arm, unless you count my own when I was a kid playing hockey, but this guy had no way of knowing that. He paled even more and seemed to be having trouble breathing.

Unexpectedly, Luc joined the action, taking the cell phone from me.

"I can erase it, don't worry! You don't have to break anything," he added, having heard Johann's comments. I had to give him credit for being able to play along on such short notice. "There, only three pictures, all gone, and he didn't send them to anyone yet!"

I gave both him and Cesare, who was staring wide-eyed at us from the booth, a glare to end all glares. "You're lucky I caught him before he had the chance to send them! Now, I want both of you to behave," I said sternly, and pointed at Cesare. "And you! No more booze!"

He nodded meekly as I turned and headed back to our own table, Johann following behind throwing embarrassed smiles to the maître d' and the other customers. The would-be extortionist seemed relieved enough at getting his phone back intact, and didn't give us any more trouble.

 

Chapter 12- A Walk Home, a Kiss Goodnight ​

Apart from that one interruption, our dinner was great. Johann tried, afterwards, to get my mind off of the incident and put me in a good mood. Nobody could have succeeded as well as Johann, and for that he didn't even have to try. By the time dessert rolled around, we were both laughing over the various mishaps and injuries my brothers and I had incurred during childhood, including my hockey accident.

Cesare and Luc stopped by as they were leaving, with sheepish faces. "I'm so sorry, and thankful," Cesare began, gripping my hand in an earnest shake. "I was too deep in wine to think..."

"We'll be more careful," Luc promised. "That was a close call!"

"Too close," I agreed. "I don't care what you do behind closed doors, but for Pete's sake don't go and spoil this for the rest of us!"

Cesare nodded, sufficiently chastised, but Luc kept glancing at Johann, who slowly turned pink.

"So... if you don't mind my asking," Luc began, "are you two here... together?"

The inflection made his meaning crystal clear. Watching Johann blush to a lovely shade, I drew a deep breath and nodded.

"Ah! But that is wonderful!" Cesare cried, clapping me on the shoulder. "We have hoped and waited, for such a long time, knowing how much Johann wanted this. I'm so happy for both of you!"

I blinked, disconcerted. "He... what?!? And you two -- you knew?!?"

Luc smiled impishly. "Of course. I guess you must have been the last one to find out."

"You were in the studio when it happened," Cesare explained. "You were recording your first solo track, and Cupid's arrow struck our poor Johann! From that moment on, he could not take his eyes off you."

"We knew right then he was a goner," Luc chimed in. "The way he looked at you! It was priceless."

Johann was now staring down at his dessert, twisting his fork into it, looking very uncomfortable -- and downright adorable. I shook my head in disbelief.

"Well, I... I mean... that's amazing!" was all I could manage. Cesare patted me on the back again.

"I hope -- we both hope -- that this will be a happy arrangement for you. You deserve it."

Luc gave Johann's shoulder a squeeze, too. "I don't know how you did it -- we thought he was as straight as they come -- but I knew if anyone could change his mind, you could! And by Jove, you did!"

Laughing, they left us in peace, which was a rather awkward silence on Johann's part. I wanted to do something to set him at ease, but was left speechless, so I settled for pressing my leg against his, discreetly under the table. He looked up, startled, then his face melted into happiness.

"So... now you know," he whispered. "I couldn't be brave, when I thought you wouldn't care..."

"I... I wouldn't have known what to do," I admitted. "But now I wish you'd told me sooner..."

His smile warmed the depths of my heart.

"Maybe, it would have worked, even then. But I think this happen the best way."

After I paid for dinner and Johann retrieved his shopping bag, we started our leisurely walk back to the hotel, taking in the vibrant night life of downtown LA. I dropped behind Johann a few steps to move to the other side of him without thinking.

"What? Where you going?" he asked, puzzled.

"Huh? Oh! Just... force of habit..." I answered, rather embarrassed.

"What habit?"

"Well... I always walk on the street side. The side where the cars are."

"Why?"

"Um... just in case... one of them, you know, rides up on the curb. So I can protect you."

It seemed ridiculous, but there it was. When you think about it, there's not a whole lot even a big guy like me can do to stop a runaway car. Okay, if it's a subcompact, maybe I can soften the blow by taking the hit first, but still.

Thankfully, Johann wasn't thinking about that.

"You would do that for me?" he said, wonder and delight shining in his eyes.

"Of course!" There was nothing I wouldn't do for those beautiful eyes.

He looked down at the pavement quickly, but not before I saw the grin on his face. Although it was uncharacteristically goofy, I was just glad to know that I could make him happy. After all, I thought to myself, he needed to be protected. Someone had to take care of him, to make up for his crummy childhood, and if he wanted me to be that someone, I was up for it!

We had almost reached our hotel when we were accosted by some fans. Johann was pressed for autographs, and we both posed for photos with them. As the girls fawned over him, I couldn't wipe the smug expression off of my face -- they were thrilled to simply shake his hand, but I had gotten to kiss him! I wondered how many hearts would break around the world, if word got out about us. Which, unfortunately, reminded me that I had one very special heart I would have to break, sometime soon -- and Michelle had no idea that it was about to happen.

We had both been at the Conservatory in Chicago, and had dated, moved in, gotten engaged, and married, just like so many other couples we knew. In my estimation, it was a very average courtship and progression of events, neither too fast nor too slow. And although what I had felt for Michelle paled in comparison to my newfound passion for Johann, I couldn't deny that there had been passion for her as well. She was talented and dedicated, hard-working as a musician, and an interesting person to talk to. She had challenged my thinking in one of our class discussions, which had first attracted me to her. Later, after our dates had gone from coffee after classes to matinee concerts, she had made the first move to take our relationship one step further, and had been a terrific lover for a young man whose hormones were still running amuck.

As we parted from our fans and headed towards the hotel, it occurred to me that despite my undeniable attraction to Johann, I had no idea how to handle myself with another man in the bedroom. I had a vague idea that lube needed to be involved, but other than that, I was at a complete loss. Which was why, when Johann turned to me expectantly in front of his door, I decided to put off that part of the relationship, at least, for a little while. I needed some time to do research!

"Goodnight, Serafim, my angel," I whispered as I bent down to kiss him.

"Goodnight," he murmured into my mouth, and pulled me deeper into the kiss. His arms wrapped around my neck as he held me captive, and my hands seemed to find their way around his waist naturally. Being slightly shorter than me, he fit into my arms perfectly. His body pressed against mine, and I was amazed at how soft and warm he felt. I didn't want to ever let go.

The silent tension building between us was suddenly interrupted, as we both heard a noise coming from Cesare's room. In fact, it was a repeated noise, growing in volume and intensity.

"Ah... well... anyway, goodnight," I mumbled, thoroughly embarrassed. I tried to pull away, but Johann still had a grip on my shoulders.

"Brian?" he asked, the question smoldering in his eyes. I thought I would fall victim to spontaneous combustion if he looked at me like that much longer.

"I--I can't, not yet. I'm sorry..."

Johann nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. "I'm sorry, I know better... You must take care of things first, with your wife..."

His eyes filled with pain, and I couldn't help hugging him tightly once more.

"It's not... just that. I... I need time, to sort things out. To... adjust."

He nodded, this time his cheek pressed against mine. It wasn't soft like a woman's, more like sandpaper against my own evening stubble, but in spite of that the touch awakened a deep longing -- no, lust, to be honest -- within me. I started kissing that beautiful cheek, making him tilt his head back as I crushed his body to me with both arms. He gasped as I moved lower to his jaw line, clutching my clothes again in that gesture of dependence that so empowered me.

We were checked in our passion, for the second time, by the sounds of another passion encroaching on our consciousness. Two voices were lifted in unison in the room across the hallway, and not, strictly speaking, in song. I felt myself flushing while I simply held Johann, trying to catch my breath. He giggled, and the moment passed.

"Well... goodnight," I said, awkwardly.

"Goodnight, Brian... I will dream of you," Johann replied, his brown eyes aglow with happiness. I still couldn't believe that he wanted to be with me, and cupped his face in both of my hands as I planted another kiss on his lips. He returned it gently, as though savoring the contact.

I pulled away enough to whisper, "Serafim, my angel..." in his ear, wrapping my arms around his back to cuddle him in an embrace. This time his arms found their way around my waist, and we swayed there for some time, content just to be standing there together with nothing separating us. He sighed, which was almost a yawn, and I knew I had to let go so we could both get some sleep.

"Auf wiedersehen, Mein Engel!"

"Au revoir, mon cher!"

As we parted with the promise to meet again, I knew I would be seeing him in my dreams as well.

 

Chapter 13- The Tonight Show ​

The next morning I was already awake, showered, and in the process of dressing when I got my usual call from Michelle. I'd considered my options last night, then mulled them over again in the shower, and came to the same conclusion -- that it would be best not to tell her about Johann until I was home. I felt it would be cowardly not to tell her to her face, and wanted to be there to help her through the shock. Not being a good actor, or even a poor one, I knew these daily morning calls were going to be a nightmare.

"So, how're you feeling on the big day?"

"Big day?" I echoed, confused.

"Well, yeah! You're going to be on The Tonight Show -- that's, like, the biggest thing in the States!"

"Oh, well... I guess so. I've already called Dad and Adeline, so they all know to watch, but I think Dad wasn't planning on it, since he and Andrew have to get up early..."

"Brian, of course they're gonna watch it! Their own son and brother is going to be on The Tonight Show!! Even if they don't appreciate what you do, that's something your whole town is going to be talking about. Mark my words!"

I laughed in spite of the sense of impending doom hanging over my head. "Yeah, I guess I'm the first one from Hicksville to make it to the big time!"

After touring in Europe and singing to sold-out crowds numbering in the thousands, not to mention the occassional royalty, a studio show for television seemed like small potatoes, but I knew Michelle was right -- it was the most exposure we would get to the average American, and could impact our CD sales in a huge way.

I was glad we had the show to talk about, so the call went without any awkward moments in which I could be tempted to blurt out the awful truth. After hanging up, I let out a sigh of relief, then felt guilty about being relieved.

There was a knock on the door a short while later, and I opened it hoping to see Johann's beaming face. I was slightly disappointed to find that it was our manager, Diggs.

"Ready for the big day? I've got breakfast waiting for us downstairs. Let's get a move on!"

The dressing rooms for The Tonight Show were more posh than most, and Jay Leno was as nice a guy as he seemed to be on TV. He hit it off with Cesare, his fellow Italian, while we were figuring out the logistics of a small stage -- we couldn't move around like we normally did, and Diggs wanted to make sure we were well balanced. We all laughed when Johann brought out the matching red and blue shirts he'd bought for us yesterday, and Diggs and the stage manager arranged us in alternating colors -- Cesare in red, closest to Jay, Luc in blue next to him, Johann in red next, and me in blue on the end closest to the audience. That was also the way they wanted us to sit in the interview area, and once we'd rehearsed our song and positions, we were able to relax in the back with Jay and his other guest, an up-and-coming actress from the latest blockbuster, who flirted shamelessly with Luc.

Showtime rolled around in midafternoon, which seemed strange, but Cesare shrugged and called it the magic of television. The song we chose was originally a pop ballad by an American artist, which we chose to sing in Italian; still, the audience already knew the words, so they seemed to get into the performance just as well. Cesare and I took turns with the baritone line, as did Luc and Johann with the tenor, then we split up into four-part harmony on the chorus. As Johann's voice soared through the last few measures on the highest note sung by man (I think), the crowd went wild. Young girls were screaming for Luc, older women were shouting for Cesare, and everybody, men included, were clapping for Johann. I had taken the low bass line, anchoring the sound, so that there were more than two octaves between our notes. We waved to the standing audience, satisfied that each of us had done our job perfectly, and walked over to the couch during the short pause where they would later insert the commercials.

"You guys were terrific!" Jay said, thumping one of our CDs on his desk. "Now, I know you've all been sort of thrown together by Leonard Moretti, the famous producer -- was it hard coming together, to make a group with three other guys you'd never even met before?"

"Well, I had met Luc before," Cesare answered, as the oldest and most natural spokesman for us, "but the others, no. And yes, there is always difficulty getting used to new people, like for a new opera production, but I think Leo had a clear vision, and when we all came aboard, each of us had bought into that vision."

"And really, even though our backgrounds are different, and our styles are different," added Luc, "we knew everyone just wanted to make it better, the best it could be."

"It took some time for us to trust each other's judgment," Cesare admitted, "but once we did, we understood what everyone's strengths are, so now we can play to those strengths."

"Actually," laughed Luc, "it only took the first day of the recording session for me to figure out I was in way over my head! I mean, you heard these guys -- they've got amazing voices -- and I didn't have any training, not like what they had!"

"So do you feel it was a disadvantage for you, coming from the pop world?"

"Definitely. I had to work so hard to catch up, and I'm still not completely caught up yet."

"But it's not only one-way," Johann explained. "It is hard for the rest of us to, ah, switch gears, and sing pop songs like we do. In more classical style, yes, but still softer, more sweeter than we are used to -- not like on stage where we used to not have mic's. So, we meet someplace in the middle."

"Well, it sounds great!" Jay said, with only the slightest hint of a smile at Johann's accent. "You guys are obviously onto something!" He looked over at me on the end, just as I picked up the mug of water set out for me on the table. "Now, Brian, you're the only American in this group. What's that been like? Has that been an adjustment?"

"It's been a... very cultural experience. I mean, not just getting to know these guys," I answered, gesturing at them with my mug, "but what's interesting is, every major city we went to in Europe had a very different and distinct feel. Here in the States, sure, you feel the difference between North and South, and East and West, but over there it really is a different country and culture, everywhere you turn. And it's been neat to see how they've managed to work together and still keep their own identities. It's sort of the pattern, I think, for how we've worked together."

I could see the other three nodding at the end of my spiel, and was relieved that I seemed to have made some sense. Johann gave me a reassuring smile before turning back towards Jay, and I finally took a sip of the water.

"Well, you guys have been great, and I know you're on tour for another couple of weeks, but you're welcome to come back on the show next time you're in town. Folks, their CD is titled, 'Knights of Romance,' available everywhere," Jay hawked, tapping it on the top of his mug. "The group is Quartetto, with Cesare, Luc, Johann, and Brian!"

We stood up for the applause as the band started to play the closing song and Jay shouted out his next night's guest list. It had been the shortest interview I could remember, but also the most nerve-wracking. I was sincerely relieved to get back to the dressing room, but we were all surprised to find Leo, our producer, backstage. And, in typical fashion, he was growling.

"Johann!" he barked, in lieu of a greeting. "What the hell was that all about?!?"

"I'm sorry?" Johann replied, perplexed.

Leo turned to a closed-circuit TV and rewound the show we'd just recorded. He stopped on the picture of me talking and replayed it, making my cheeks burn red with how dumb I sounded -- why hadn't he yelled at me instead of Johann? Or had he simply gotten our names mixed up?

Then I saw what must have gotten his attention. The camera hadn't zoomed in completely on me, but had stayed at the point where Johann and I were both in the frame, and Johann was looking at me with a singularly dreamy expression. It made my insides twist from sheer joy, but at the same time, I knew that if Leo had caught it, it would be just as obvious to anybody else watching the show.

Leo had been studying Johann's reaction to seeing himself, and I saw that my angel had blushed at first, realizing how evident his feelings had been, but he now turned pale under Leo's unrelenting glare.

"I--I'm sorry, I didn't--" he started, but was interrupted by Jay coming into the room.

"Hey!! Leo, how are you!" he said, making a beeline for him with a hand outstretched. "Doc just told me you'd sneaked in during the taping."

Leo took his hand and plastered on a fake smile. "You're looking good, Jay."

"You're not bad yourself! Hey, I gotta tell ya, these guys are great! You've really outdone yourself this time!"

"Thanks, I'm pretty proud of them, usually," came the dour reply.

"What? What's not up to snuff now?" Jay jokingly asked.

"Well, I need to talk to your stage manager and see if we can't come in a little closer on a shot or two, just to... keep distractions out of the frame."

"Sure, sure, be my guest!" Jay walked with him out of the room, and we could hear him calling for the manager before the door shut.

Johann looked wilted, and since there were only the four of us left, I pulled him to me and held him close for a minute.

"I... I need to be... more careful," he whispered. I nodded, and kissed him on the forehead.

"We all do," Cesare sighed. Luc squeezed his own lover's hand before changing into his street clothes.

 

Chapter 14- Poolside Chat​

Leo gave Johann a more extensive tongue-lashing when he got back from having the tape edited.

"You're supposed to be selling romance, not just CDs!" he bellowed. "It's all about image in this town!"

I was about to yell back at him to lay off, but Johann meekly nodded.

"I'm sorry, I... I wasn't thinking. I'll be more careful in future."

"See that you are!" Leo snapped. "This time we were lucky, and they could cut you out of the picture, but if you ever pull a stunt like that on a live interview, we're screwed!"

Leo turned away, so I figured he was finally finished, and approached Johann to take him into my arms and comfort him. As Johann melted against me, we were startled by the sound of Leo's Blackberry clattering on the floor -- he had turned around and seen us, and was so surprised that he'd dropped it.

"You--!" he sputtered, staring at me. "What do you think you're doing?!?"

"What does it look like?!" I shot back. I could handle getting yelled at myself, but seeing him give Johann the third degree had made my blood boil. "You have no right to chew him out like that! So what if it gets out that we're gay, and our sales drop? All you'd be out is a few bucks. But for us, it would ruin our lives. So back off!!!"

Leo, Luc, and Cesare were stunned. I guessed that possibly, nobody had ever spoken to Leo like that before. At least, not one of his "productions," anyway.

After gaping at me a few more seconds, Leo sagged against the nearest table.

"You've gotta be kidding... You, too? Of all the guys..." he muttered. He glared at me. "I thought you, at least, were straight! Now I'm surrounded by a bunch of friggin' fairies!"

Cesare spoke up, indignantly. "If you didn't like our kind, you shouldn't have gotten into show biz!"

When we returned to the hotel, Luc suggested that I join him and Johann in the pool. I had known for some time that the two of them worked out by swimming, but before, I'd always gone to the gym to do my own routine of running and weight lifting. Today, Luc seemed to think it would be better for Johann if I was with them, and I had to agree. He was deflated from Leo's lecture, and clung to my arm all during our ride back. He perked up a bit when I agreed to join them, so I hoped that was a good sign.

We regrouped in the hallway, dressed in our trunks and hotel bathrobes, and headed down to the pool. There were a few people already there, but mostly for sunbathing, so we almost had the whole pool to ourselves. I threw off my bathrobe onto a chaise lounge and jumped in. The shock of the cool water was refreshing.

"Hey! You didn't warm up," Luc said, frowning down at me with mock severity. I came up to the side to splash him, and watched as Johann removed his bathrobe and started stretching, holding the back of a chair for balance. Luc was also bending over to stretch out his legs, and although he was obviously the more fit of the two, I couldn't take my eyes off Johann -- his fair skin covered a musculature that was trim without being thin and wiry like Luc, and although there wasn't a six-pack on his stomach, his waist narrowed down distinctly, which I realized was what made him look so good in a suit. The light growth of brown fuzz on his chest matched his arms, as well as the faint line that rose up from his navel. He must have felt my gaze, since he glanced at me and blushed. I couldn't help grinning, so I decided to practice my backstroke to hide my face.

Luc dove in and started splashing me in retaliation for earlier, then suggested doing laps to get warmed up. Johann stepped slowly into the water, shivering a bit, and settled into a breast stroke. We swam at an easy pace down the length of the pool and back, trying not to run into each other, since there were no lane dividers. I was glad to see Johann's features relax after a while. He seemed to be sizing me up, too, but I didn't mind -- I may not be the greatest looker, but all those hours in the gym had paid off. He blushed again when I caught him ogling my muscles.

Naturally, we ended up racing one lap. I had the advantage of extra height, but Luc was a fierce competitor, and he'd been swimming all of his life. In the end, I couldn't quite catch up to him, and when he turned around with a victory smirk, I had to pull him under. After a round of horseplay, which Johann watched, laughing, from a distance, we decided to get out and rest by a secluded corner of the pool.

"So... Luc," I began, wondering how to broach the subject. "Can I ask you a question?"

"How did I get such a beautiful body? Just lucky, I guess."

"Ha ha. Just wait till you're my age!" I snorted. "No, I wanted to ask you about Cesare."

"What about him?" Luc asked in return, arching one eyebrow in an uncanny imitation of Cesare.

"Well, how did you guys... you know... hook up?"

Luc laughed as I turned red in the face. "It's been a few years now," he said, leaning back in the chair to get the full benefit of the sunlight coming in through the windows. "I was just starting to really break out, when a friend got tickets to the opera. Actually, he'd gotten them to take his girlfriend, but she broke up with him the week before, so he was just looking for someone to give them to. He figured I liked music, since I sang, and gave them to me."

Luc shook his head in amazement, remembering.

"You know, I'd never even heard an opera before that? Not on TV, not on the radio, nothing! And I just figured, it'd be a romantic sort of thing to do for a date, you know? So I asked out a girl I wanted to impress. She was impressed, all right, but only because they were good seats -- she was bored out of her mind with the performance. But for me... for me, it was an epiphany."

Luc sighed, looking up at the ceiling, his gaze on that night so long ago.

"I heard Cesare for the first time, and realized that this was real, this was something so much more powerful than anything I'd ever done, and I was hooked! I managed to use my quasi-celebrity status to worm my way backstage, just to meet him, to shake his hand and tell him how life-changing his music was. And he was so... gracious. He actually listened to all my crazy ideas, and gave me advice and pointers. He started stopping in to see me whenever he came to Paris."

A sly smile crept onto Luc's lips.

"I didn't figure it out until later that he really didn't come to Paris that often, not for business. He kept finding excuses to stop by... helping me put together a new song, coming to see one of my recording sessions... coming just to... see me..."

I noticed that Johann was listening intently, too. Maybe he hadn't heard this before.

Luc turned to both of us with a smirk.

"Once I figured out what he was after, though, I played hard-to-get. It drove him absolutely nuts!"

He laughed, a happy sound that echoed over the water.

"He thought at first that I didn't realize he liked me, but then he thought I wasn't interested. He almost gave up then... so I had to send him an invitation to dinner, and practically drag it out of him..."

"What do you mean?" Johann interrupted. "Drag out what?"

"I wanted him to say it, to come out and admit he was attracted to me," Luc answered, matter-of-factly. "I wanted him to fight for me, to prove he was worthy of my attention. I mean, he's always been a much better singer and stuff, but if he wanted to be my lover, I needed some proof that he wasn't going to be just a one-night stand! I wanted to know he was serious about us."

"Oh," Johann answered, thoughtfully. "So... you wanted a... commitment?"

"Something like that," Luc agreed. "I wanted him to woo me, court me, really work to get me, so I knew I could trust him. And he did," he added. "I know it's not easy for him to juggle his family and me, but he's done a great job keeping everybody happy -- or satisfied, at least. I know I've no complaints," he said with a smile, turning towards the entrance. And there, with several bottles of water in his hands, was Cesare.

"I thought you all would need some drinkable water by now," said the Italian lover, as he came up to us and started handing out the bottles.

"See, he's perfectly trained now!" Luc teased, moving over on his chaise lounge so Cesare could sit at his feet.

"Trained? Trained?!?" Cesare asked, sitting down with a wounded expression. "What about thoughtful, or considerate, or just plain nice?"

"Okay, that too," Luc conceeded grudgingly, though hiding a grin.

"Thanks, Cesare," I added, toasting him with my water, and Johann followed suit. "We were just hearing about how you two first met."

"Ah! It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," Cesare quoted, a tragic smile lighting up his swarthy face. "This boy, who is the Devil incardinate, gave me such a hard time! One day he loved me, and I could do no wrong; the next day he despised me, ignored me, or fawned upon some silly beauty on his arm until it drove me near madness!"

Luc could no longer hide his grin. "Just keeping you on your toes, old man! Besides, variety is the spice of life -- and you wouldn't have fallen so madly in love, if I hadn't driven you mad first!"

Cesare made an exaggerated sigh. "And so he mistreats me, knowing that I cannot live without him!" He shook his head in mock misery, but I was beginning to see how their personalities worked together.

"I'm going for a few more laps," Luc announced, standing up and slowly removing his bathrobe for Cesare's benefit. "You guys wanna come?"

Knowing that Luc wanted to beat us in another race, this time in front of Cesare, I shrugged helplessly and got up.

 

Chapter 15- Request to Duet ​

I was tired by the time we finally went up to our rooms to wash up, and hungry, too. We'd decided to avoid a repeat of the previous night by all going out to dinner together, and Luc, having won the second race as well, chose a Japanese sushi bar for our repast. He sat next to me and insisted that I would like the broiled eel box, and although I had my misgivings, I decided to try it, and was pleasantly surprised -- it was much tastier than I'd thought it would be, and filling, too. We had a good time passing around bites of the food only Luc was familiar with, sitting on the floor with a low table and a dug-out area for our feet. When Luc winked and informed me that it was a great way to "play footsie" without being seen, I choked on my beer, and Johann barely missed wearing it.

Cesare had a pleasant buzz from the sake by the time we got back to the hotel, which was not enough to make him emotional, but enough to loosen his inhibitions so that he pulled Luc into his room with a salacious chuckle. I was glad that there had been nobody else in the hallway to witness it.

"Well... goodnight," I said, turning to Johann. He was standing in front of his door, looking a bit forlorn, so I quickly gathered him into my arms and kissed him.

"Goodnight, Brian," he whispered, not willing to let me go yet. His eyes were searching, longing. I realized what he so desperately wanted to ask of me, but I simply wasn't ready! So instead, I held him close, rubbing his back.

"Johann... Serafim... you know I love you, right?"

He looked up at me with those gentle brown eyes and nodded.

"You have the most beautiful brown eyes," I told him, and the words slipped out like a sigh. "I could look into your eyes forever."

He blushed at the compliment, breaking our eye contact for a moment, which gave me time to notice how lovely his cheeks were when he blushed. I kissed both of them, traveling from one side to the other.

"Your cheeks... are so cute! I could just... eat them up!"

A slight laugh escaped from him as I tickled his ear with my nose.

"Sleep well, my angel... and dream of me," I begged.

"Of course... always!" he replied.

The next day we were traveling to Las Vegas, which meant packing up our suitcases (yet again) and getting used to a new hotel. At least we had a small private plane for our hop over, and although Leo joined us for the flight, it was mainly to hand us the final version of the music for our new CD. He had gotten us the rights to do covers for most of Frank Sinatra's famous hits.

"Although we won't be recording them for a while," he announced, once everybody was settled in, "I thought it would be appropriate to sing a few at the concert in Vegas."

"Cool!" Luc said immediately, and we each paged through the sheet music with our individual parts printed, eager to see how Leo had divvied them up. Cesare pulled out his pitch pipe to start us on the right note, and we practiced some of Frankie's old favorites, like "Luck Be a Lady," "Strangers in the Night," and, since we were flying, "Come Fly With Me" and "Fly Me to the Moon." I'd never really heard these songs growing up, but it was amazing how familiar they seemed -- they almost made me nostalgic, although I wasn't even born when they were hits, and was pretty sure that even my parents hadn't listened to them.

"Leo," Johann started hesitantly, when we all took a break for water, "Can I ask you a favor?"

"What?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Would you let me sing duet with Brian?"

The timid way in which he asked it showed he was still nervous about his slip-up yesterday, and I froze, wondering if Leo would explode again. Thankfully, he seemed no more gruff than usual.

"Whaddaya mean, duet with Brian?! I'm sure there's several places in here that you two take together..."

"No," Johann answered quietly, but with certainty. "Always you put him with Luc or Cesare for these songs, and only a few times in the first CD with me."

"Really?" Luc asked, surprised. Cesare was already rifling through his music, which showed who was singing where, even if the parts weren't written in.

"You're right, Johann, you have no parts with Brian in this song... or this..."

We all started going through the music, and sure enough, although there were any number of other combinations, there were no duets for just Johann and me in any of the Sinatra songs.

"Well, here, at least, you come in right after each other," Leo pointed out, almost hedging.

"Yes, but I ask for duet," Johann repeated. "And since you already write all these for parts, can I suggest the song for us?"

We all realized then that Johann had had something specific in mind when he had asked for the "favor."

"Which one?" Leo asked, obviously worried.

"I think we could do well with 'All the Way' -- Brian and me on the first verse, then Cesare and Luc on the second, and we all come in on chorus."

Leo thought about it a moment. "Remind me how it goes."

Since we didn't have the music for that one, I had no idea, but Johann seemed to know it by heart. His soft tenor voice filled the cabin with a haunting melody.

"When somebody loves you, it's no good unless he loves you... all the way;
Happy to be near you, when you need someone to cheer you... all the way.
Taller than the tallest tree is -- that's how it should feel.
Deeper than the deep blue sea is -- that's how deep it goes if it's real.

When somebody needs you, it's no good unless he needs you... all the way;
Through the good and lean years, and for all the in-between years... come what may.
Who knows where the road will lead us -- only fools would say.
But if you'll let me love you, it's for sure I'm gonna love you... all the way... all the way."

It brought tears to my eyes to think he wanted to sing that with me, and I wished with all of my heart that I had been able to give him what he wanted last night. I vowed to corner Cesare as soon as we got to the hotel and ask for pointers, so I would be ready and able to make my first night with Johann memorable.

"Well," Leo said, some of the gruffness in his voice muted, "I suppose that one would work. I'll make sure I have all the copyright stuff in order."

Cesare had actually closed his eyes, listening, with only a patent-leather toe keeping time to indicate that he was awake. Now he opened his eyes and smiled at Johann.

"That is a very good song for you. I think you two should do it as a duet all the way through."

"Now wait a minute," Leo protested, "I thought we agreed at the outset that this was going to be a team effort?!"

"It would be all right if you just gave Cesare and me another song as a duet," Luc explained. "I think it will be a nice change."

"Another one?!" Leo groaned. Cesare grinned wickedly.

"I think we could find another one of Frankie's that we like," he drawled. "Don't you agree?"

"Of course," Luc affirmed, with an equally evil smile. "I think we should sing 'I'll Be Seeing You.'"

"How does that one go?" Leo asked, somewhat alarmed by the looks that Cesare and Luc were exchanging. Cesare started out dramatically with his rich voice:

"I'll be seeing you, in every lovely summer's day,
In everything that's light and gay -- I'll always think of you that way!"

And Luc joined in with excessive enthusiasm on the chorus,

"I'll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new,
I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you~~~!"

Leo scowled and crossed his arms.

"Bloody fairies!" he pronounced bitterly, as Cesare and Luc shed tears of laughter.

In the limousine ride to our hotel in Vegas, Johann managed to slip his hand in mine without being seen by Leo. He turned a happy smile to me as we watched all the bright lights and extravagant buildings slide by outside the tinted window. It was a colorful place, even in broad daylight.

Our hotel was especially nice, since Leo was staying with us. The liveried doormen swarmed on our luggage with alacrity and hauled them off like so many ants with food for the colony. The concierge personally handed us our key cards, looking very stiff and formal, and, to my mind, very British.

"Oh, Diggs," Luc mentioned in an off-hand way, as we entered the elevator, "I asked them to change our rooms from what you had reserved. I hope you don't mind."

"What?!? What did you change?!?" Diggs demanded, immediately alarmed.

"We figured it would be cheaper, not to mention more comfortable, if we doubled up into suites," Luc coolly answered. "You and Leo are in adjacent rooms, and Cesare and I are in a suite. One of their excellent honeymoon suites," he added, with a sly grin.

"WHAT?!?" both Diggs and Leo yelled. It was deafening in the confined space of the elevator.

"Don't worry, Leo," Cesare calmly smiled. "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas!"

"I... can't believe..." Leo spluttered. Diggs simply gaped at them.

"Oh, and Brian," Luc said, turning to me, "we thought you and Johann would enjoy the special accommodations, too. Enjoy!"

The elevator chimed as it stopped on our floor, and Cesare took Luc's arm as they waltzed into their room. I walked out into the hall in a daze, and looked at my key card, then at Johann's. The same number was printed on them.

"Bloody fairies," Leo muttered again, and punched the number for their floor with unnecessary violence.

 

Chapter 16- Honeymoon Suite ​

"Well," I said, swallowing, once the elevator doors had closed again, "here we are."

Johann and I stood in front of a pair of elegant white doors, one of which was ajar. Presumably, our suitcases were being arranged inside -- in the bedroom of a honeymoon suite.

Johann took my hand gently. "Brian... if you don't..." he started.

"No, it's all right," I hurried to tell him. "It's just... well, I'd hoped to talk to Cesare first... I--I don't have the first clue..."

He looked up at me in surprise. "Oh, Brian! Don't worry, you don't need to know... I can help you through everything." He blushed at the words, which seemed extremely forward, coming from him. "Tha--That is, if you want to..." He ended in a whisper.

I wasn't sure of anything yet, but I heard some noises coming from the room, and reached for my wallet. The first thing we needed to do was secure some privacy!

"Let's pay the doormen and... unpack, for starters," I suggested. Johann simply nodded, and followed me into the room.

Everything was white and trimmed with gold, with pale yellow walls, and the sunlight made it all seem that much brighter. The two doormen were just getting ready to leave.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, sirs?" one asked, without even the slightest hint of a sneer.

"Um... yeah. I mean, I'm sure it is," I answered, holding out a tip which I hoped would cover both of them.

"Oh, sir! It's all taken care of," he explained, backing away towards the door. The other doorman had already left. "The gentleman who made this reservation -- Monsieur Laurent -- has taken care of everything. But in case there is anything else we can do to enhance your experience here, please don't hesitate to call the front desk."

"Thanks," I replied, still in a bit of shock. After he left and closed the door, I looked around the room. Johann had walked over to the window to admire the view, and I admired the pretty picture he made, framed by that window with the Vegas Strip beyond him. Stepping up behind him, I slipped my hands around his waist and rested my chin on his shoulder.

"Nice, isn't it," I sighed.

"Yes, very," he answered, placing his own hands over mine. "Brian... are you sure...?"

I kissed his cheek from behind. "Yes. I just want to be with you."

He played with my hands for a moment, and his fingers rested on my ring. I tensed involuntarily at the reminder of my wife. Johann must have felt it.

"You know... we can just... be together. That is okay for me."

"Johann... Serafim..." I mumbled, worried that he would be disappointed. "Are--Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I don't want you to do anything... you will regret." He twisted around, and stretched his arms around my neck. "But if I can be... a little bit selfish, I want to be... close to you. To be... right next to you, all night..."

Our lips seemed to meet of their own accord, and we stood there, leaning into each other, for a long time. It was still only mid-afternoon, and Leo had said something about hitting the hotel's casino, but I couldn't bear the thought of going back out into public, where Johann and I would have to constantly put on an act. To pretend that we weren't crazy about each other, which, by definition, made it impossible to hide.

Johann slipped his hands down from my neck and under my sport coat, feeling my chest and shoulders. I was glad that he liked my physique, since I felt helplessly outclassed in any other category for looks. He was just so... perfect! Perfect face, perfect teeth, perfect brown eyes, perfect hair, perfect skin -- and I had a snub nose, square jaw line, some crooked teeth, indistinct gray-green eyes, and hair that tried to stand on end. If I didn't work out to bulk up, I would have very little to offer him.

I was startled out of my musings, though, when something wet and determined made its way into my mouth. We had only kissed a few times yet, and only superficially, so it was with some surprise that I felt Johann initiate something deeper. I was glad enough to let him take the lead, remembering that he had first kissed me, that time in the cab, but wanted to at least participate this time. After a few minutes of hot and sloppy tongue-tangling, I was ready to renege on my wedding vows.

"Brian..." he moaned, as we came up for air.

"My angel..." I answered, thoroughly aroused.

Johann played with the lapels of my shirt. "Why don't we... get more comfortable?"

I nodded, glancing at the open door of the bedroom. As Johann backed away from me slightly, I was inspired with an idea. Moving quickly, I bent down to put an arm behind his knees, and picked him up. He was heavier than I'd expected, but still light enough to carry.

"B--Brian?!?" he cried, startled, grabbing hold of my shoulders for support.

"It's tradition," I explained. "It's bad luck if the bride trips on the doorway, so the groom has to carry her across the threshold safely."

"Oh!" he said, letting the concept sink in. He leaned in against me as I carried him towards the bedroom. "But Brian," he slowly began, "why do you think I am the bride?"

I could detect the note of humor in his voice.

"Because you're too pretty to be the groom. Besides, I'd look horrible in a dress!"

Johann laughed at that, his voice ringing merrily in the rooms. I stepped through the doors and around to the side of the bed, and laid him down gently.

"There... safe and sound!"

He reached out to pull me down on top of him, his eyes crinkled happily.

"Yes... safe, always, with you," he murmured, as I kissed his cheeks again. I decided I'd worn my sport coat for long enough, and sat up on the edge of the bed to take it off. That was when I noticed the basket sitting on the bedside table, wrapped in clear cellophane with a giant bow.

"Johann... I think that's meant for us."

He turned to look.

"There's a card in it. I think it's from Luc..."

As I hung up my sport coat in the closet, Johann opened up the plastic wrapping on the basket.

"It is from Luc, and Cesare," he announced, reading the card. "And they are very naughty boys."

"What? Why?"

By way of explanation, he started lining up the contents of the basket on the bed. What I had taken to be tubes of hand lotion were... well, they were lotion, but for a much different purpose and part of the anatomy. There were also two pairs of very sturdy-looking handcuffs. And a set of colorful clothespins. And a small leather contraption that I didn't even want to know how to use.

"These," Johann said decidedly, putting the items back into the basket, "we will keep for later."

"Thank god," I said, almost reverently. Johann caught my eye and grinned.

"Not too long later, I hope!"

I felt a bit insecure, realizing that Johann probably had experience with those sorts of things already, and that I was for all intents and purposes the virgin here. I sat on the bed and took off my shoes to hide my embarrassment, noting that Johann was stripping out of his clothes as if it were the most natural and obvious thing to do. I took off my shirt and trousers, and was relieved to see that Johann was still in his underwear -- a pair of silk boxers and a t-shirt. I had no idea how sexy a man could look in just his underwear, until Johann walked up to me and stood between my knees. He bent over and held my face in his hands.

"So... it is sometimes nice to switch roles, I think," he said softly, stooping to plant a kiss on my lips.

"Yeah," I agreed, slipping my hands around his waist. He laughed and backed up.

"Let me put these away for you, before they wrinkle."

He took my shirt and trousers and languidly hung them in the closet, taking his time as though he knew how much I enjoyed watching him -- his movements were so fluid, his hands so delicate and graceful, that even the most mundane of tasks could be transformed into a kind of dance. Even as he walked back to the bed, I was mesmerized by the way his long, shapely legs moved him across the floor.

"So," he said again, his lips curving up, "what do you think? What do you want to do?"

My brain seemed to be frozen.

"I don't know," I answered, honestly enough.

"Well then," Johann decided, combing my hair with his fingers, "why don't we... relax, and do whatever we feel like?"

I felt like a child being led by an adult, as he pulled me up to stand next to him. And, like a kid in a candy store, I couldn't resist touching him, pulling him close to me in a hug that let me explore his face with my lips. He laughed, and I hoped I was at least doing something right.

"Brian... we have a... long day, tomorrow. Maybe we should... rest?" he asked, between receiving my kisses. When I nodded, he reached around me to pull back the covers, and slipped in between the sheets. I followed soon after, crawling in on top of him.

"Kiss me," he said.

"Your wish is my command," I answered.

 

Chapter 17- Little Nap​

I practically devoured Johann's face with kisses, trying to cover every bit of skin that was exposed. When I had to stop to catch my breath, he pulled me down so I was resting my weight on him. I slipped my hands behind his back, and comfortably settled my head against his neck.

"Am I too heavy?"

"No, not like this."

His fingers seemed to be everywhere, caressing my back, combing my hair, and gently kneading my shoulders. I sighed at the luxurious sensation of being held by him. I was aroused, yet not painfully so, and when he wrapped his legs around mine in another form of embrace, I could feel his excitement as well. It was still amazing to me, to think that he wanted to be with me like this.

"I'm so... happy..." Johann murmured. I raised myself up on my elbows to see his smile, and bent down to kiss him again.

"Serafim... my angel..." I whispered into his ear.

"Brian, my love," he answered, as his fingers slipped beneath my undershirt and began traveling up my spine. I shivered with pleasure as he slowly rubbed up my skin, pulling my shirt as he went. Soon he was tugging at it playfully, hinting that he wanted me to take it off. I groaned as I had to let go of him and sit up to do so, pushing my knees under his and towering over him. It was a great view, since Johann was lying down with his arms thrown above his head, looking up at me with the same dreamy look that Leo had chewed him out for. He laughed when I pulled off my undershirt and swung it around my head like some crazy exotic dancer. I tossed it carelessly onto the floor.

Now I was down to only my tighty whities, and it seemed unfair that he was still wearing his t-shirt, so I started pulling it up his torso. As I undressed him, he seemed amused, bashful, excited, and confident, all at the same time. As more of his milky white skin was exposed, I couldn't resist crouching down to kiss it, and he giggled as though it tickled. I crawled up his stomach with my lips as my hands pushed his t-shirt up, and when his chest came into view, I latched onto one of his pink nipples. I suckled on him hard, surprised myself at how good it felt. I couldn't remember the last time I'd done that to Michelle, even though she had a great pair of knockers. And although Johann didn't have any breasts to speak of, it was simply... satisfying, to suck on his little nub. I didn't want to wear it out, so I moved over to the other one, which tasted equally delicious. He moaned and his fingers caught in my hair, his body writhing beneath mine. My hands had been wandering up and down his ribs, but now I used them to squeeze his flat chest into little mounds under my greedy mouth. For a long time I kept sucking, as if milk would come out if I tried hard enough.

Then, inexplicably, it hit me -- I was making out with another guy, and enjoying it! It would have been funny if it weren't so shocking. I mean, I had realized, intellectually, that I was attracted to another man, and had even had wet dreams about him, but up until now I'd never taken any real action. Now I was actually stepping into full-fledged gaydom by becoming an active participant. And the truth was, I wasn't prepared -- more than not knowing what to do, I didn't know if I could go through with it.

And of course, now that I had paused to think, there was the matter of Michelle. I was still married to her, so what I was doing now was cheating on her. Adultery -- the old word came into my mind. My mom had instilled a strict code of ethics into my psyche, and as puritanical as it may seem, I could not flout one of The Big Ten (as my family called the Ten Commandments) with impunity.

Always sensitive, Johann noticed that a change had come over me. I stopped trying to nurse on him and settled into the crook of his neck, one hand wandering through the curly brown hair on his chest. I couldn't move forward, but that didn't mean I could turn back, either. I wanted him desperately, so badly that I couldn't let go -- it was a frustrating stalemate.

"Brian," he called, softly, "I love you."

Despair and guilt washed over me.

"I'm sorry, Johann," I began, misery welling hot in my eyes.

"Don't be," he said, firmly. "I say I love you, because I do -- and it doesn't matter what you do, or don't do. I love you. I love you for being a good man. And I am happy just to be together."

He struggled with his t-shirt for a moment, until I realized he was trying to get it off and my head was in the way. When he was able to remove it, he threw it on the floor with mine.

"If you want to touch me, that is okay. If you don't want to, that is okay, too. Just know that I am here for you."

I looked into those mild brown eyes which were so full of forgiveness and acceptance, and couldn't stop the tears from spilling out of mine. He hugged me and kissed my forehead, comforting me like a child.

"Nani, nani, puişor," he sang, in his gentle voice, and I knew immediately that it was a lullaby.
"Nani, nani, puişor,
Până mâni la prânzişor, Până mâni la prânzişor."

His hands were also soothing me, stroking my bare back in a slow, easy rhythm. I relaxed into him, willing myself to breathe deeply, in time with his hands and his song. The warmth from our bodies mingled and made it difficult to tell where the boundaries were, and that was somehow comforting in itself.

"Tu să creşti mai mărişor, Tu să creşti mai mărişor,
Dragul mamii puişor, Dragul mamii puişor."

I sighed as his song ended, and pressed even closer to him. I'd never been much of a cuddler before, or was it only with Michelle? At any rate, snuggling against Johann felt wonderful right now.

I must have drifted off to sleep without knowing it, since the next thing I knew, Johann was trying to worm his way out from under me, and instead of the bright sunlight that had been streaming into the room, there was a deep red glow from the sunset.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Johann apologized, as I rolled off of him. He moved quickly into the bathroom, and I saw that it was already past seven o'clock -- I'd slept the whole afternoon away.

I stretched and sat up, realizing that I needed to go to the bathroom, too. I was ashamed that I hadn't come through for Johann, but promised myself that once I was divorced, I'd make it up to him. No matter how embarrassing, I'd get down all the best techniques (after all, what was the Internet for?) and drive him wild. I'd even learn how to use all the toys Luc and Cesare had given us!

I had my turn hitting the facilities after Johann, and when I came back out he was looking over the room service menu.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah. Although I don't know why I should be... I just slept all day..."

Johann smiled. "It's nice to get a nap sometimes. And I like listening to you sleep."

I suddenly remembered how often Michelle complained about my snoring.

"Oh! Sorry, was I loud?"

"No, not loud," Johann answered cheerfully. "It was like lullaby. I sleep better with some noise."

"Really?" I asked, wondering if he was only being nice. He nodded.

"Yes. Before I start working, I always live with... my friend. Always in same bed." I felt a jolt of anger, and jealousy, somewhere deep behind my navel. "When I move to my apartment, I had hard time sleeping... He gave me a fan, for noise, and I could finally sleep." The shy smile on his face made me melt. "The fan helps, but... it is better with someone. Especially... someone I trust -- someone safe."

I barked out a laugh. "Well, you're certainly safe with me! 'All show and no go' Douglas..."

"Brian!" he chastened, throwing aside the menu to come stand by me. He took both my hands in his and looked earnestly into my eyes. "I just want to be with you -- nothing else matters! Don't think sex is everything. It is more important to be connected in the heart, and this we have. Do you feel it?"

Looking down into those brown eyes, I felt a pull -- like gravity, only in a spiritual dimension -- that tied me to him. It was a connection I had never experienced with anybody else.

"Yes," I replied, squeezing his hands. "Yes, definitely, this is something special. More than just physical."

Johann smiled, relieved that I understood what he meant. "Yes. Brian, I know what it is to be... only physically attached to someone. When I met you... I learn this new connection, this... this..."

Since he was groping for the right word, I suggested the only one that came to mind.

"Soulmates?"

He looked up, beaming.

"Yes!"

When our room service dinner arrived, we found that Luc and Cesare had yet another surprise in store for us. They had ordered us a magnum of champagne, fresh strawberries, and a chocolate fondeu to dip them in. As we fed each other dessert in the form of skewered and chocolate-coated strawberries, I wondered aloud if the other two lovebirds were enjoying themselves in like fashion. Johann laughed.

"Yes, but not as much as we are."

I had to agree.

 

Chapter 18- Pillow Talk ​

Johann had put on a pair of blue striped pajamas before our room service had arrived, which made him look like a little boy. In a bygone era he might have been nicknamed "babyface" for his beautiful, innocent features. I felt shabby in my usual sleepwear -- an old, oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms that were worn thin, but I didn't have anything else, and knew that sleeping half-naked would pose problems before morning.

I quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face before going to bed, and wondered what was taking Johann so long in the bathroom. When he came out, he slid in next to me and nestled his head against my chest, in a movement so natural that it seemed he had been doing it for years. He felt comfortable, a perfect fit for my body, and when I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, he let out a sigh. I knew then that he was perfectly happy, just like me.

"Brian," he murmured, after a while. "Tell me your brothers' names again. A is for Andrew, B is for Brian, C is for...?"

"Christopher. And D is for..."

"...I forget."

"Duane."

"Duane, Duane," he repeated, trying to commit it to memory.

"Do you remember our middle names?"

"Only yours -- Brian Joseph Douglas!"

I couldn't see his face, but I knew it had that wonderful, dreamy smile on it.

"Okay, so it's Andrew Jackson, for one of the Presidents, and Brian Joseph, and Christopher Jacob, and Duane Johnson."

Johann turned on his side and snuggled closer to me, his hand rubbing my stomach. "All start with J, but no Johann," he commented.

"Yeah, but if we had another brother, he might have been," I replied, laughing at the thought. As I squeezed Johann's shoulder, something occurred to me.

"Johann, if your real name is Serafim, why do you have another name?"

There was a slight pause before he answered.

"Bernard named me that, when he brought me to Austria. He had to make fake papers for me. They must have cost a lot of money..."

"I'm sorry," I told him -- not only for what had happened, but for bringing it up, just when he had been so happy. "So... did he have to smuggle you out of Romania?"

"Not really. It is common for people from other countries to adopt children from there, or simply buy them for black market. A little money to the Customs officials and they look the other way."

I was shocked, and didn't know what to say. Johann -- no, Serafim -- continued to stroke my stomach with a soothing motion.

"The trouble was getting me into Austria. That is what he needed papers for, to show that he adopted me properly. He had to have them made first, before he found me, so he used a name he liked. I'm named for Johann Sebastian Bach," he announced, and sounded amused about it. "He is Bernard's favorite musician."

"Bernard... this man who... bought you," I began, with effort. "What is he like?"

"Well... he is a businessman, entrepreneur, with many stores. Some sell antiques, some are art galleries -- he is very rich, and knows a lot about many things."

There was genuine respect in his voice, which made me ache inside.

"I told you he lost his wife, and was lonely? When he came to Romania, he looked for a boy who could be his son, and wife, and best friend. I was very lucky he choosed me."

Serafim stopped rubbing my chest and reached out, searching for my other hand. I let him take it, but could not fight down the jealousy raging within me enough to return his touch. He laced his fingers through mine, anyway.

"I might have died in orphanage, or sold on black market -- to be sex slave and killed when I grow too big. Bernard saved me from terrible things, and was good to me... in many ways. I hope you can understand, Brian... he is important person for me."

I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"But Serafim, you said... he--he did things to you, that no boy should have to go through!"

"Yes," he said simply. "But he was always gentle. He never hurt me, not in my body, even though my heart hurt from the shame. He felt bad, but could not help himself. In his own way, he loved me, Brian."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep down the venomous bile that threatened to spill out. I was angry at Bernard, and jealous that Serafim was so... attached to him. And angry, too, at Serafim, for making excuses for him.

"Have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?" I asked, my voice tight.

"Yes. Do you think that is why I protect him?"

"Maybe."

"I think, maybe, also," Serafim admitted. "But it would be very hard, if he had not been so good to me. He spent much money on me -- first to buy me, then to teach me -- and when I wanted to work, he let me. He even let me move out of his house, be on my own, so when I am with him now, I do it by choice."

"He's trained you to be his loyal lapdog," I retorted, more harshly than I intended. The bitterness was bubbling over. "He knows you'll come back to him whenever he calls."

"Yes. And he was right. Until now."

Serafim pushed himself up and straddled me, so that he was looking down into my eyes. In the dim glow of the night light, I saw wonder mixed with sadness in his.

"That is all changed now. Brian, when I met you... I knew, I want to spend my life with you -- not Bernard! Anymore, when he calls, I will not go back. I can't, Brian -- I want more! I want... true love, not something bought with money and kindness only." He shook his head. "Nothing he does can satisfy me now. Only you can give me... everything."

He leaned down to kiss me, and all the hate and blackness inside me seemed to dissolve into thin air. I grabbed him, pulling him to me, as though my life depended on it. And in a way, perhaps it did. As Serafim lay on top of me and deepened our kiss, I felt complete, made whole, as though I had been living without a part of myself all this time, and was finally reunited with it. Like an amputee who was finally given, not another prosthesis, but his own limb re-attached and healthy again.

Without even realizing it, I had pushed Serafim over and was trying to roll onto him. He gasped for air, so I released his mouth to wander across his cheeks with my lips. I noticed how smooth his skin was.

"You shaved again?" I asked, surprised.

"Well, yes," he answered, blushing. "I thought... I hoped, you want to... how do you say?"

"Make out," I supplied, nuzzling him gently with my stubble. "Now I should go shave..."

"No!" he said, startling me. "I like... when you are rough. It makes you feel... so macho, manly." He rubbed his jaw against mine. "So... sexy!"

I was undone. If Serafim had an anatomy that I was familiar with (in that way), I would have taken him right then and there. Since he didn't, and I couldn't, I held him for a moment as I drew a ragged breath, and after lifting myself off of him, I ran to the bathroom to release my desire. It was embarrassing, but at least it was better than forcing my way blindly and hurting him.

When I got back, Serafim was sitting in bed with his knees drawn up and his head resting on them. As I crawled over to sit next to him, I was dismayed to realize that he was crying.

"Serafim! I'm so sorry..."

"No," he managed, "It's not your fault. I'm sorry, I can't help..."

He broke down into sobs, and I ached with a pain I'd seldom known before. I tried to hold him, to rub his back in a comforting way, but not knowing exactly what was wrong, I had no idea what to say.

"It's my fault," he choked out, after a few minutes. "I'm so sad... this is what Bernard made of me! I can't... feel, like you love me, if you don't touch me, even though I know it isn't true..."

"Serafim!" I cried, shocked. "I do love you, and I want you so much! I almost--almost hurt you, because I want so much to be with you! To be... one with you..."

He smiled through his tears as he looked up at me.

"I know. I know you love me, Brian, I do! I just... have to learn, to... trust. Yes, that is it!" he sighed, letting me pull him against my chest. "It is better if you don't... touch me, not yet. I have to get over this," he explained. He turned to face me, his eyes still wet with tears, but his expression calm now.

"I need to... re-learn, what love is. That you don't have to be... physical, to be loved. All those years... I give myself, give my body, to Bernard, because I was afraid... if I didn't, he would not love me."

I shuddered at the thought of a young boy, so desperate to hold on to the only kindness he knew, that he would allow a man to do that to him... and that boy was my own, my dearest Serafim!

"I had nobody else in the world to take care of me," he whispered. "Nobody at all. And I knew, even then, that there were much worse men than Bernard. So I did everything he wanted, just to be with him..."

The anger and jealousy I had felt earlier did not return -- instead, I felt Serafim's loneliness, and fear, and desperation, which only made me sad. I held him tightly, and he clung to me.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," I told him. "I'll always love you. Just like you said you'd still love me, even if I didn't do what you wanted me to. Deal?"

"Deal," he laughed, his voice shaky, but his grip on me solid.

 

Chapter 19- A Phone Call from Home ​

When we finally lay down to sleep, it was a novel feeling to have him in my arms, his back fitted snugly against my chest, like we were two perfectly comfortable spoons. Michelle always needed me to turn the other way, so I wouldn't disturb her with my loud snoring, and although she might occasionally snuggle up to my back, I had never slept facing her.

Serafim insisted that he could sleep through my snores, and even pulled my arms further around his middle so we would be as close as possible. I stuck my nose into his neat, short-cropped hair, with my lips lightly touching the skin on the back of his neck. The warmth of his body against mine was delectable, and as he gradually relaxed, I felt protective of this man who had lived through such unimaginable horrors as a boy. I wanted to always hold him, to keep him safe -- and, the greedy part of me knew, to bask in his smile that was meant for only me. I kissed his neck several times before drifting off to sleep, just to reassure myself that this was real, not a dream. Serafim, this wonderful, beautiful man, wanted me to be his protector. I was now the only one allowed to touch him!

I heard him breathing slowly and regularly, and knowing that he was at peace, I found peace, too.

I was awakened by the harsh sound of the phone ringing. As I tried to roll over towards the bedside table, I was confused by the presence of a body in my arms -- even more to realize that my right arm was numb from the weight. Disoriented, I managed to grab the phone and hold it up to my face, as the person on my arm murmured and moved off of it.

"Hello?" I asked, my mind still in a fog.

"Good morning! How's Vegas?" Michelle's voice rang through.

"Okay... Uh, what time is it?"

"It's... oh god! I'm so sorry, Brian, I miscalculated -- I'm an hour early!"

"That's all right... I need to get ready. We have a lot to do today," I told her, rubbing the sleep boogers out of my eyes.

"So how is the Entertainment Capital of the World?"

"Um, all right, I guess. The place is lit up, even in broad daylight," I commented. Suddenly, I remembered sharing a smile with Johann on the way to the hotel, and realized that it was him on the other side of the bed.

"Did you check out some of the sights last night?" Michelle asked, focusing me on the here and now.

"Uh, actually, no. I just stayed in my room... slept the whole afternoon. Guess I must have been tired," I added, beginning to sweat. I've never been good at lying, and was afraid something would slip out.

"Well, you've had a really hectic schedule the last few weeks... Just stay away from those showgirls, and don't spend more than you can afford to lose at the gaming tables!" she warned.

"No showgirls, right," I answered. Dancing girls were the least of my worries right now... "And I don't plan on gambling at all."

"Aw, Brian, live a little! It's your first time in Vegas! I promise, I won't get upset over a few dollars."

Wondering why she was in such a magnanimous mood, I simply mumbled, "Okay. Maybe a slot machine or something."

Johann abruptly slipped out of bed, and walked around it to the bathroom. I couldn't see his face in the darkened room, but followed him wordlessly with my eyes. I missed part of what Michelle said next.

"--maybe if you slapped it around it'll work better for you. Anyways, I see you as more of a blackjack or poker kind of guy. Have you ever played before?"

"Not in a real casino," I managed.

"It should be interesting, then! Well, I'd better get going. I've got a student coming in ten minutes. Sorry I woke you up so early!"

"That's all right, I got a nap yesterday, after all."

"Okay. Take care, and have fun!"

"Okay, bye!"

With unutterable relief, I hung up the phone, and lay there, assessing the situation. I'd survived another call, but there were still thirteen more days until we were back in New York -- and even then, since we closed our tour at Madison Square Garden, I would be in a hotel with the rest of the group until it was over. So it was actually fifteen more days until I would be home, and able to talk to Michelle.

Fifteen more days to keep up this charade of normalcy over the phone with her. Fifteen more days until I would, in effect, break up my marriage. Fifteen days in which to come up with a way to let her down gently, with the news that her husband was running off, not with another woman, but with another man. Fifteen more days before I was freed of my obligations, free to love Johann -- Serafim -- in all the ways he wanted and needed me to. Fifteen days in which to figure out how this guy-on-guy thing worked!

At the moment, I was completely relaxed, but my underwear was damp. Drat. Must have had a wet dream again, although it was hardly surprising, when the subject of those dreams had been lying in my arms. I wondered if Serafim ever had wet dreams of me. I wondered what he might be doing in the bathroom at that very moment. The mental images of the possibilities were dangerously arousing, so I veered away from them.

What were we doing today? Oh yeah, rehearsing for the concert, doing a luncheon meet-and-greet with the hardcore fans who paid big bucks for the privilege, and practicing some of the new songs for our second CD in a studio. Tomorrow was our concert, so they'd let us sleep in and simply hang out all day, but today was grunt work day.

Serafim came out of the bathroom quietly, as though he expected me to be on the phone still.

"Hey, sorry to wake you up so early," I started, tentatively.

"Was that your wife?"

"Yeah."

"Does she always call?"

"Yeah. She made a mistake and called an hour earlier than usual, though."

He walked around to his side of the bed before climbing in. My right arm was just beginning to get some feeling back -- that painful sensation of being stuck with a million pins -- so I didn't hold it out for him to lie down on again, but I moved closer and slipped my left hand onto his hip. He didn't respond at all, even though I'd expected him to press up against me, or at least cover my hand with his, so I knew something was wrong.

"Serafim... what is it?"

There was a long pause, and he drew in a deep breath before answering. I thought he might be crying.

"She... She must be very lonely."

I had never thought of Michelle as a lonely sort -- she was always making plans, going places, doing things, and keeping so active, that I didn't think she had time to be lonely.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because she calls you every day, right? No matter where you are?"

"Well, yeah..."

"I think... she must love you, very much."

His simple words stabbed me through with guilt. I had been so self-centered, thinking only about my feelings for Serafim, that I'd forgotten to consider the other person in this equation. Yes, I'd wanted to let her down gently, but how could I hope to do that, when I was about to tear her world apart?

Serafim finally took my hand in his, but only to stroke the ring on my finger.

"I'm sorry... to take you away from her. I am very selfish," he said, his tone quiet and sad.

"Serafim... I'm selfish, too. I haven't been thinking about how horrible this will be for her."

I bent my head to rest it against his back.

"Maybe... Maybe this is bad idea," he whispered, and the darkness filled with gloom. "Brian... I love you, but I can't ask you to... to do this, just because I want you..."

"NO! Serafim, I can't let go -- I can't give you up!"

Jolted by the hideous thought, I sat up on the bed and forcibly rolled Serafim onto his back, so he couldn't avoid looking at me. In the dim light coming from a slit between the curtains, I could see that his cheeks were wet with tears. I kissed them away, trying to formulate the right words for what was raging through my heart.

"Serafim, you're my angel! I love you and you love me, so how can we give up on us? I can't live without you, not when I've finally found you! And as sorry as I am to Michelle, I can't imagine living with her when I don't love her -- it wouldn't be right, or fair to her, to keep her in a relationship that's dead. I should let her go free, to find her soulmate."

I kissed him fiercely, as if to prove my point.

"Serafim, I'm sorry, it's my fault for having married her in the first place -- you shouldn't have to feel bad about it at all! Besides, you're not selfish for wanting what is yours, anyway, because my heart is yours, all yours, forever. We were meant to be together. You know that, don't you?"

His arms had wrapped around me while I talked frantically to persuade him. He squeezed me when I pressed him for an answer.

"Yes," he said, slowly and with conviction. "You can't go back to your wife, any more than I can go back to Bernard. I understand that, now. It is hard to break people's hearts... but that is the only way."

I bowed my head and laid my cheek on his, which was still wet with remorse.

"I know. It'll be hard to go through with this, but we have to. We need to be together. I need you," I whispered in his ear.

"I need you, too," he replied, kissing my cheek.

We lay there for a long time, before the alarm clock went off and we had to get ready to face the day.

 

Chapter 20- Rehearsal and Dinner​

Since this was the honeymoon suite, there were two sinks in the bathroom -- but of course, only one bathroom. I gallantly offered Serafim the shower first, while I tried to shave without cutting myself. It was quite difficult, knowing that he was completely naked (not to mention soapy) right on the other side of that white shower curtain, to concentrate on anything. In fact, it was hard to resist the urge to peek, but I kept telling myself that it would all happen in due time. I brushed my teeth and went out to the bedroom to unpack my suitcase, which neither of us had gotten around to yesterday. I left half of the closet space open for him, and laid out the slacks and shirt I would wear today.

When Serafim came out wearing only the hotel bathrobe, I had to swallow and turn away quickly. I wasn't sure, at that point, whether Luc and Cesare had done me a favor or not. I jumped into the shower and turned on the cold water full blast for a few seconds, before settling down to washing. The next few days were going to be torturous!

When I came out in my underwear, socks, and bathrobe, Serafim was already dressed and sitting in one of the chairs, reading the newspaper. He looked very debonair with his legs crossed gracefully like that. He looked up and smiled, making my own legs feel like rubber.

"I ordered breakfast, so it should come soon. I hope you like pancakes."

"Simply adore them," I mumbled, leaning over to plant a quick peck on his forehead. I grabbed the shirt on the bed, then realized it wasn't the one I'd laid out.

"Oh, I changed your clothes! I never see you wear that one before, and I think it is nice," Serafim explained. He'd picked out a white, oversized shirt that Michelle had found on sale, but the sleeves were too short. I didn't have the heart to refuse him, though -- it was so sweet that he wanted to dress me.

"Okay, thanks!" I replied, and took off the bathrobe rather self-consciously. I could almost feel his eyes roving over my back as I put on the shirt.

"Oh!" he gasped, when I was buttoning it. "The sleeves -- they are not long enough!"

"Don't worry, I have a hard time finding stuff that fits," I began, but he had already jumped up and was standing in front of me, doing something with the cuffs.

"If we roll them, they will look okay," he said, making them shorter still. He glanced at me with a sly smile that made my heart skip a beat. "This way, I can see more of your arms."

I was reprieved from having to answer by a knock on the door, and while Serafim went to get our breakfast, I pulled on the bright blue pair of slacks he had also picked out for me, which I seldom wore because they seemed too loud. With the white shirt, though, they were okay -- colorful, but classy.

He came back rolling the cart and beamed with pleasure.

"Yes, that is what I thought -- white on top makes your shoulders stand out, and makes nice balance. Very Mediterranean colors, I think, nice and cool even in bright sunlight. You like?"

"Yeah, I think it's good. Besides, I don't have much sense when it comes to clothes, so you're welcome to dress me however you like."

"Okay," he said, grinning mischievously. "Tomorrow, I get you a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts!"

"Hey! You're supposed to make me look good!"

He laughed as he uncovered the plates and set them on the table.

"For you, less clothes is better!"

When we got downstairs, Luc and Cesare were waiting for us in the limo with expectant faces.

"So... how did you find your... accommodations?" Cesare asked with a suggestive grin.

"Oh, they were great," I answered nonchalantly. "Nice and spacious."

"Yes, and the strawberries were delicious," Serafim added.

The two of them looked at the two of us. Finally, Luc couldn't stand it any longer.

"AND?!"

"And what?" I asked, trying my best to feign innocence and not crack up.

"Well, this was your first night together, wasn't it?" Luc demanded.

"Or wasn't it?!?" asked Cesare, arching one eyebrow.

"Well... yes and no," Serafim replied with a smile, telling them nothing.

"So how did you like the... gift basket?" Luc prodded, comparing our faces to see who would give first.

"Oh! It was a beautiful basket, thank you very much," Serafim beamed.

"Yes, that was very thoughtful of you," I added blandly, bound and determined not to give them satisfaction. "Really, you shouldn't have gone to so much trouble!"

Cesare pursed his lips, his eyebrow still cocked with suspicion.

"What is going on? What are you not telling us?"

"Nothing," I answered, and Serafim echoed, "Nothing at all!"

"So. You're not going to tell us anything? Not even one teensy-weensy, juicy little detail?" Luc whined.

"Nope," I told him, gleefully. Serafim laughed.

"So much for gratitude, Cez," Luc grumbled. "I mean, I didn't expect a complete play-by-play, but you'd think they could at least give us a hint..."

Seraphim looked at me with a question in his eyes. I knew he couldn't stand to disappoint them so much, so I nodded. He apologetically informed them, "We would tell you a little bit, if you want to know, but there's really nothing to tell."

"What?!?"

"Nothing happened," he repeated.

"But--But... you were i--in the honeymoon suite!!"

Luc gaped at us, and Cesare sputtered. I figured I needed to confirm it.

"We decided to wait."

"Wait?!? For what, Hell to freeze over?" Luc asked, his jaw dropping down again.

"I'm saving myself for marriage," Serafim told them with a coy smile, leaving them both speechless, perhaps for the first time.

"Besides," I added, "who'd buy the cow if they can get the milk for free? I want to make sure I reel in this catch before I give out any favors."

Serafim turned to me with a delighted smile.

"If you mean I'm a fish, you got me, hook, line, and sinker!"

I leaned over to kiss his lips just as Leo and Diggs got in the car.

"What do you think you're doing?!?" Leo yelled angrily when he saw us.

"It's okay, Leo," Serafim told him calmly. "The windows are tinted."

"You'll be the death of me," he growled. "I don't know why I bothered, but I got the rights to do that song you wanted. Here," he said, thrusting a sheaf of papers at us. The music sheet had Johann and my names on it.

"Oh! So soon!" Serafim cried, clapping his hands in delight. "Thank you so much, Leo!"

And before Leo could react, Serafim had closed the distance between them and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"You're the best ever!" he gushed.

"Get off me, you bloody--faugh!!" Leo yelped as he wiped the dampness off of his face. I had never seen Serafim grinning so wickedly before, but then, I was probably grinning just as evilly.

Diggs shook his head, trying to look dismayed, but failing to hide his smirk.

"Well, you can't say you're unappreciated anymore," he told Leo, earning him a murderous glare.

"We appreciate you, too," Luc said, "but not enough to kiss you, sorry."

"That's perfectly fine," he snapped. "Now, could we just get down to business?!?"

The rehearsal went well, and we were able to change into our dinner outfits with plenty of time to spare for the luncheon with the fans. Our stage costumes were in separate suitcases, overseen by Stacy, the wardrobe girl, and were waiting for us at each event. She usually had us dress differently, to emphasize our individual tastes and styles, so for the luncheon we all came out wearing different suits, but without ties, since this was supposed to be an intimate get-together.

The fans were able to name who of us they preferred to sit with, but I usually got the spill-overs from Johann and Luc's tables, so I tried my best to make them laugh and help them get over their disappointment at not getting their first choice. I told them behind-the-scenes stories about the others, which seemed to delight them.

"You look like you have a lot of fun in your performances," one lady observed. "Are you good friends off the stage, too?"

"Of course! The best of friends," I assured her, with a quick glance at Johann. He had a young girl fawning over him, and looked distinctly uncomfortable. "After all, we have the love of music in common, and after working together for a year, we're practically family. In fact, I've spent more time with these guys than I have with my own brothers for the past few years."

Someone else politely asked about my family then, and as I answered, I wondered what Johann told fans about his family. I would have to ask him later, so I didn't slip up and say something he'd rather not have people know.

When the luncheon was over, we changed back into our street clothes and headed to the studio. In the limo, Johann pointedly ignored Leo's baleful stare and sidled up to me. I couldn't hide my grin as I put my arm around his shoulder to hold him closer.

"I missed you," he sighed, resting his head against my chest.

"Me, too," I answered, realizing that I had missed holding him, even for those few hours.

"I was jealous, too," he confessed. "You were having such good time, laughing and joking. I wanted to be at your table."

If ever I had felt any resentment at not having fans of my own, it was dispelled forever.

"You're the only one I would have chosen," I told him. Ignoring Leo's groan, I bent down to kiss my angel.

"Did you hear that?" Luc commented dryly to Cesare. "I think he just said we wouldn't be welcome."

"Well, you're always welcome at my table, darling," Cesare answered, and they made a great show of kissing, too. As Leo nearly gagged, Diggs collapsed in a fit of laughter.