Alex & Clayton (13 page)

“It doesn’t sound like you enjoyed it much.”

“I didn’t. Once my immediate need was met, I felt dirty.”

“Shit, you’ve really never had a proper boyfriend, have you?”

“Does it sound like it? Unless you wanna count the guys I spent twenty minutes with boyfriends. No, I’ve always been single and never had any kind of a relationship. I tried to never have sex with the same guy twice. It was much safer that way, and I didn’t want anyone to get hurt looking for something that I wasn’t prepared to give.”

“But surely now that you live here in Rehoboth, you’ve had sex. I mean, there are a lot of nice, attractive gay men around here.”

“No, I’ve only had two dates, and you know about both of them. Please, let’s not talk about this part of my life any longer. It’s Thanksgiving, and I wanna enjoy the day!”

“That’s a deal, my friend,” Alex replied with a smile.

“Friend? Are we friends?” Clayton asked softly as if speaking to himself.

“Of course we’re friends. I don’t invite people over to my house that I don’t consider friends. Don’t you think we’re friends?”

“Yeah, I guess we are friends at that. Except for that little disagreement we had, I enjoy being with you. You’re smart, easy on the eyes, and you have a neat sense of humor.”

“You left out one part….”

“Oh? What did I leave out?”

“The fact that I’m sexy as hell, and your temperature goes up when I walk into the room!”

Clayton laughed and rocked back into the sofa. “See, you’re funny! Okay, I’m gonna get the food on the table, and then we can eat,” he said as he laughed his way into the kitchen.

“Well, it wasn’t that damn funny!” Alex thought as he finished the scotch in his glass.

Ten minutes later, Alex got up to see if he could help Clayton, only to find the table filled with food and Clayton struggling to open a bottle of wine.

“Here you go. Sit and let me do that,” Alex said.

As Clayton sat down, he heard the distinctive pop of a cork pulled from its prison. After opening the bottle of white wine as well, Alex brought both bottles into the dining room. He asked if Clayton wanted red or white and poured the first glasses.

“Would you mind just bowing your head for a moment of silence to give thanks for all that we have or whatever you want to say to yourself?”

“No, that’s fine,” Alex said as he bowed his head.

After a minute, Clayton said amen, and the food began to make the rounds back and forth between them. They talked about their new community and laughed all through dinner as they consumed both bottles of wine. They had pumpkin pie with whipped cream for dessert, and the meal was complete.

“That was fantastic, Clayton. You did an outstanding job preparing everything! I feel so stuffed, I don’t know if I can move!”

Clayton chuckled and said, “Good. I didn’t work all day in the kitchen for you to eat like a parakeet. Do you want coffee?”

“Ah, no, I’m really full. After we clear the table, we should sit back down in the living room and sleep for an hour,” Alex said and laughed.

“Tell you what, you go into the living room now, and I’ll clear the table. You’re a guest, and I won’t have you doing any work. Now go.”

Alex saluted Clay and went into the living room where he collapsed down onto the sofa.

Clay smiled as he cleared the table and put away leftovers. When he joined his guest once more, he found him fast asleep on the sofa. He smiled at Alex snoring away and decided to put on coffee. The wine and scotch made Clay nervous about Alex driving.

When the coffee was done, he brought it to the living room in the silver service. When he set it down on the coffee table, Alex woke up and tried to pretend that he hadn’t fallen asleep.

“I thought we’d have coffee. It’s always nice to finish off dinner this way.”

“Sure, I enjoy coffee after dinner,” Alex said as he took the cup Clay poured for him.

“There’s cream, sugar, and the diet stuff there, so you can fix it the way you like.”

When they settled onto the sofa with their coffee, Clay clicked on the television just to have noise in the background. There was an old movie playing called,
The Bells of St. Mary’s
, and Clayton smiled, remembering watching this movie with his parents years before.

“Thank you for a wonderful afternoon and a great dinner,” Alex said. “You’ve set the bar high for Christmas.”

“It was just the usual traditional meal, not much to worry about.”

“Nonsense. You prepared everything perfectly, and the stuffing was outstanding!”

“That was a recipe from my mother that was handed down through her family. I used it today for the first time. I’m glad you liked it. She would be so pleased.”

“You really miss your mother, don’t you?”

“Of course. She was a very good mother who made sure I had everything I would need to make it in this world. While it’s true that she held me back in certain social areas, she more than made up for it in other ways. More coffee?” Clay asked and steered the conversation to less painful subjects.

Chapter Eight

A
FTER
talking for hours, they kissed briefly at the door, and Alex drove carefully home. Clay felt something akin to freedom at the end of the date. For the first time in his life, he had invited someone to his home, prepared a holiday dinner—even using a family recipe—and pulled it off well. His guest went home satisfied and full. But most importantly, Clayton hadn’t worried about someone seeing Alex come into the condo. He had no worries about his mother and any questions she might ask. He felt like his own man at last and was only sorry it took nearly fifty years for it to happen.

Clayton worked so hard over the next couple of weeks that he actually finished the store website. His entire inventory had been uploaded, and supply lines were set in place to ship orders out. It was almost the time of the year for him to open more frequently as they approached the second week in December, and holiday shopping got into full swing.

He was just puttering around when the phone rang, and he saw Alex’s number.

“Hello, Alex,” he said as he answered.

“Hi. Look, I thought you said at Thanksgiving we were going to go pick out some art for my house? I’ve got some guests coming over for Christmas, and the house doesn’t look finished. When can we do that?”

“I am so sorry! I’ve been so busy that it went right out of my mind. I’m free for the next three days. Does that work for you?”

“Well, it’s only a little after ten now. Why don’t I pick you up in about an hour, and we’ll hit a couple of places?”

“Perfect. I’ll see you in an hour.”

C
LAY
was pleased that Alex had called him about the art-buying trip. Now he’d get to spend a little time in galleries and be with the one man he considered a friend. He drank the last of his coffee and changed into appropriate clothing.

An hour later, a knock on the door told Clay that Alex had arrived. He opened the door and found a smiling retired cop standing there in a sweatshirt, jeans, leather jacket, and boots.

“What? You’re looking me over like I’m here to take out the garbage or something!”

“Ah, no, nothing of the sort,” Clay said as he grabbed his keys and coat and walked out after setting the alarm.

They got into Alex’s car, and Clay handed him a list of places where they could view art for sale.

“Any of these places will do to begin with. Why don’t we go to the closest one, and we can work our way outward if we don’t find anything that you like right off the bat.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan. We’ll hit the Winters Art Gallery first since it’s only about a mile up the road from here. Frankly, I’m surprised to find any place like this at the beach.”

“Why? People with money come to beach resorts. Of course the traffic is heavier in the warmer months, so the gallery will be very happy to see us.”

Clay was proven right; the place was empty, and they put smiles on the faces of two employees when they walked in. As they looked around, a salesperson followed at a discreet distance, not wanting to risk annoying them into leaving. There were several oil paintings, and Alex pointed out the ones that appealed to him.

“Do you think that’s a good painting?” Alex asked.

“Truthfully, the most important thing is that you think that it’s a good painting. Don’t buy a piece of art because you think others will like it, or that it will make you look sophisticated. Buy art that you like, because you’ll be the one looking at it day in and day out—not to mention that it’s your money.”

“Okay, I agree. How many pieces do you think I need?”

“You’ll want to put up at least two pieces in that big living room, preferably three. It’s a large room, and you have a lot of space to fill. Then you need to decide if you want anything in the dining room, your bedroom, hallways, and guest bedrooms.”

“I think one piece for the dining room, one for my bedroom, and I’ll buy kinda low-end stuff for the guest bedrooms and bathrooms. So, let’s make it five good pieces. Here, I like this one,” he said pointing to one hanging on the wall.

“Nice. It’s a watercolor, though, not oil, not that it really matters, but you seemed to prefer oils. It’s a very well-done landscape and six hundred and fifty-nine isn’t too bad for such a nice-sized piece.” Clay paused. “And don’t be afraid to ask for a discount if you buy more than one.”

“Miss!” Alex said to attract the attention of the saleslady.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’d like to buy that piece right there,” he said, pointing at the landscape.

“Very nice. It’s a watercolor by an artist from the Hudson School.”

“Okay, if you say so. Look, if I buy five paintings here, what kind of discount can I get?” Alex asked.

“Five? Let me take this over to the counter, and I’ll have a talk with my manager. Of course you understand that the prices of the paintings will be a factor,” she said as she smiled and walked away.

“Alex, you don’t have to buy everything here, you know?”

“Yeah, I know that, but if I buy one painting at five different galleries, I’m not going to get a price break, am I?”

“You have a point. Let’s see if she comes back with something enticing. You should push for at least fifteen percent.”

Shortly after Alex saw another piece that he liked, the saleslady returned.

“As I thought, my manager says that depending on the prices, he might be willing to take ten to twelve percent off the total.”

Alex looked at Clay who looked at the woman and said, “Fifteen percent would make it a sure deal.”

“I see. Is this your first house together?”

“Our first… oh, we’re not a couple. We both live in Rehoboth, but we don’t live together. We are gay, though, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out,” Alex said.

Clayton turned bright red and began fidgeting.

“I guessed because of your taste in art that you might be gay,” the woman said.

“So straight men have no taste in art?” Alex responded.

“That’s not what I meant.” The saleslady was beginning to look flustered. “Shall I take these two pieces to the counter?”

“Yes, thank you,” he answered.

After she had left them, Clayton turned to Alex and said, “You embarrassed me very much just now. Don’t do that, please!”

“What? You mean by saying that we’re gay but don’t live together?”

“Precisely! I don’t tell strangers my business, and I’ll thank you not to do so either when we’re out together.”

“I apologize. It’s just not something that I’m ashamed of or frightened for people to know. But I understand that you’re not where I’m at yet, so I won’t do it again,” Alex said sincerely.

“Thank you. Shall we look around the rest of the gallery to see if there are two more pieces that fit what you’re looking for?”

“Sure. Do you think I should pick something else besides landscapes?”

“It might be nice for variety. Maybe a painting of the streets of Paris or something like that would be nice.”

After another half hour, they had chosen five pieces, much to the gallery’s delight. When they were rung up, the total came to just over seven thousand dollars.

“And how much will that be with the fifteen percent discount?” Alex said without a smile.

The manager frowned and countered with twelve percent.

“If that’s the best you can do, then I’m afraid we’ll have to leave without the paintings,” Alex said as he began to turn away.

“Very well, fifteen percent, but you’re killing me,” the manager said.

“I’ll send flowers,” Alex said, now smiling hugely.

T
HE
paintings were carefully wrapped and loaded into the car. Alex paid with a debit card, and they headed home.

“Thank you for spending the day with me. I’d have been lost without you,” Alex said.

“No, you wouldn’t have. You would have done just fine on your own.”

“Not at all! I would have never thought to ask for a discount for buying five paintings. You saved me over a thousand dollars!”

“Just one of the tricks of the trade. I hope they go well with your decor. If you have a problem with a piece, you can always move it to another room and try for a better fit,” Clay said.