Belonging (37 page)

Chance chuckled and said,
“Awesome.”

*****

Maybe an hour later when I finally had
a moment alone with Zan, I kissed him and asked, “How are you
doing?”

He draped his arms over my shoulders
and said, “I feel good, actually. I don’t know why I was worried
about tonight. Your friends and family are terrific.”

“The size of the crowd doesn’t bother
you?” There were at least a hundred and twenty people on the lawn
by that point, many of whom were members of my extended
family.

“Nah. This isn’t bad at all.” I smiled
at him and he glanced over my shoulder as the piano player got up
to take a break. “Come here for a minute, love. I want to give you
your birthday present.”

He took my hand and led me to the
piano, and we both sat down at the bench. As soon as we did that,
the crowd gravitated around us. Zan began playing the moment he sat
down, as if doing so was totally automatic. “I got famous writing
love songs,” he said, looking in my eyes, “but like I told you, I
didn’t know what it meant to be in love until I met you. I get it
now. Your love inspires me every single day, Gianni, and I wrote a
song for you. It doesn’t adequately convey my feelings for you
because words fail me, but I want you to know it’s from the heart
and I hope you like it.”

After a few moments, he began to sing.
His voice and the melody were astonishingly beautiful, and I
watched in awe as his graceful hands flew over the keys. The song
told me simply and eloquently how much he loved me. It was the
single greatest gift anyone had ever given me.

When the song concluded, I was
startled by the applause. I’d completely forgotten there were
people around us. “Thank you,” I whispered, and I kissed him
tenderly.

“Happy birthday, love,” he said,
resting his forehead against mine.

“I absolutely adore you.” I was still
whispering, because I knew my voice would break if I tried to speak
louder. He smiled at me and kissed me again, and the crowd broke
out in another round of applause, this time including whoops and
cat calls. That made me laugh and bury my face embarrassedly in
Zan’s shoulder.

“Are you taking requests?” my cousin
Jerry called from somewhere in the crowd and everyone chuckled.
Zan’s fingers had started picking out a tune on the keys, as if
acting on their own.

“Yeah, why not?” Zan said, and someone
called out the name of one of his hits. I watched him closely as he
played it for them. He was completely in his element, relaxed and
happy, doing what he’d been born to do. I watched the crowd, too.
They were completely enthralled. A lot of them looked like they
couldn’t believe what was happening right before their eyes, and
rightfully so. Zan was extraordinary, larger than life, and I felt
so incredibly proud of the man I loved.

He played for almost an hour, taking
request after request. Finally Nana broke it up, saying, “For the
love of God, people, stop hogging the birthday boy’s sweetheart.
These two got better things to do than entertain your
ass!”

Zan got up and took a quick,
self-conscious bow as the crowd went absolutely wild, cheering and
applauding. I took his hand and led him into the hotel. There was a
little alcove off to the right, and I pulled him into it and kissed
him passionately.

The private moment didn’t last long. A
timid voice behind me said, “Mr. Tillane? I’m so sorry to bother
you and your boyfriend, but do you think I could have your
autograph?” I turned to look at the young auburn-haired piano
player, who was blushing furiously and holding up a Zan Tillane CD
and a pen.

“Sure,” Zan said, taking the items
from him. “Be glad to.”

“Could you please make it out to
Susanna? That’s my girlfriend. I won her over by playing one of
your songs on the piano for her,” he admitted embarrassedly,
scratching the bridge of his heavily freckled nose.

“You’re incredibly talented,” Zan told
him as he signed the CD case. “I’m not surprised you won her
over.”

The guy blinked at Zan in disbelief
and murmured, “You think I’m talented?”

“I know it. I’ve been listening to you
all night. I bet your boss here at the hotel tells you to stick to
the song book, yeah?” The guy nodded, and Zan said, “I love it when
you sneak in those ad-libbed riffs anyway, like you did on that
Cole Porter number. It’s brilliant and subversive and shows the
true depth of your talent.”

The guy’s jaw was hanging open as Zan
handed the autographed CD and pen back to him. “I didn’t think
anyone was even listening,” he murmured. “They never seem to. I’m
just in the background at all these events. I sit and play and
nobody cares.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Zan said. “Joke’s on them
and your boss anyway. There you are, doing things more genius than
they can even comprehend, and the whole time you’re at work, you’re
practicing and getting better and better and better. When you
figure out where you need to go from here, you can give ‘em all the
one-fingered salute and tell them, ‘thanks for paying me to
rehearse, but I’m way too fucking good for this shit so I’m out of
here.’ Won’t that feel good?”

The guy smiled ear to ear. “It’ll feel
awesome.”

“What’s your name?” Zan
asked.

“Freddie Jankowitz.”

“Freddie, I’m going to look for you
after you make it big, and I’m going to buy a ticket to your
concert when you’re headlining the top venues.”

The kid burst into tears and said,
“Thank you so much, Mr. Tillane. You don’t even know how much all
of that means to me, coming from someone like you. I just can’t
even tell you!” Freddie grabbed Zan in a quick hug before
retreating back to the piano, drying his eyes on the sleeve of his
white dress shirt.

I kissed Zan deeply before saying,
“You’re an amazing man.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The thing you just did for that guy.
You made his day. No, scratch that. You made his year.”

“He seemed sweet, and he really is
talented,” Zan said. “All he needed was someone to believe in him.
I hope I gave him that.”

“How do you know that’s what he
needed?”

“Because it’s what we all need,” he
said with a little smile. Freddie had returned to the piano, and a
Zan Tillane song drifted to us. “I wonder if that’s in the
sanctioned playbook, or if he’s going rogue.”

I led him back out onto the lawn and
said, “May I please have this dance, Alexzander?”

“It would be a pleasure and an honor.”
He took me in his arms and I rested my head on his shoulder as we
swayed to the music.

A few couples joined us and I grinned.
“They’re hearing him. Freddie, I mean. They’re dancing to his
music.”

“He’s not nearly as invisible as he
thinks he is. I hope he learned that tonight.”

“I think he did.”

Zan kissed the side of my head and
asked, “Are you having a good birthday, love?”

“The best one ever,” I said, holding
him tight.

That would have been absolutely true,
except for what happened next.

Chapter
Nineteen

We heard the news helicopter a few
moments before it came into view. It appeared around the crest of
the hill and hovered above the lawn. The words ‘Channel 17
Investigates’ were painted on the side, and a guy with a big camera
hung out the open door by a strap as a powerful searchlight washed
over the crowd.

The noise was deafening. They were
flying way too low, the force of the blades sending food flying off
the buffet table and whipping everyone’s clothes and hair. Zan and
I stood frozen in shock as the chaos swirled around us. The
spotlight landed on us and locked on, and both of us raised our
hands to shield ourselves from being blinded.

To our left, a dozen paparazzi were
running around the edge of the hotel. We were easy to find with the
spotlight on us, so they began barreling toward us. The security
team had mobilized, running to intercept. They had to dodge the
crowd, which was scattering in confusion. The paper lanterns on
their long cables surged skyward in the updraft, uprooting two of
the twelve foot-high aluminum flagpoles, which apparently were just
on temporary stands. The poles toppled like felled trees. Everyone
dodged out of the way, except for MJ. The pole struck the child and
he fell to the ground with a cry of pain.

The moment I saw that, I started to
run toward him. A paparazzo jumped in my path, shoving a big camera
in my face. In the next instant, my brother-in-law Charlie leveled
the guy with a hard body check, his years as a high school football
player really apparent. I dodged around them. It felt like I was
running in slow motion, but finally I got to my nephew and scooped
him into my arms.

I stood up and looked around, but
didn’t see his dad or brothers. MJ was sobbing hysterically, his
little body trembling. My only thought was to get him to safety, so
I took off running. Zan was right by my side, shoving paparazzi out
of our way. Dante and Charlie caught up to us and also helped clear
the path.

We burst into the hotel and ducked
into what turned out to be a little business office to our left. I
sat MJ on the desk and asked him, “Are you okay? Where did that
pole hit you?”

“My leg,” he said between sobs,
pointing to his right shin. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what
was happening.”

I pulled up his pant leg and examined
his shin. A big bruise was already beginning to form. “Does it hurt
when you move it?” I asked, and he shook his head. I straightened
up and said, “I don’t think it’s broken. Does anyone know where
Mikey is?”

“We’ll go find him,” Charlie said, and
he and his husband hurried from the room.

I picked up MJ and held him, and the
little boy clung to me tightly. “There was so much noise, and
everyone was running,” he managed.

“I know, sweetie. Everything’s okay
now,” I said as I rocked him. He was calming a bit and no longer
sobbing. Meanwhile, Zan paced at the far side of the
room.

“Don’t tell Markie and Mitchell I got
scared, okay?” MJ said, his voice quavering. “I’m the big brother,
I’m supposed to be tough. I don’t want ‘em to think I’m
chicken.”

“I won’t tell, but you don’t have to
be tough all the time,” I told him gently. “Do you know where your
dad and brothers are?”

MJ sniffed and said, “Daddy and Marie
took my brothers upstairs to our room to tuck them in ‘cause it was
their bedtime. I begged them and they said I could stay up an extra
half hour. I was supposed to stay with Cousin Josh, but I didn’t.
It’s my fault I got hurt.”

“Nothing’s your fault,” I told him. I
pulled out my phone and shot Mikey a quick message with one hand,
letting him know where his son was as I hugged the child with my
other arm.

“It’s mine,” Zan said
quietly.

“No it’s not,” I said. “It’s not your
fault that some jerk tipped off the paparazzi, or that they’re so
unscrupulous in their quest to get the photo that they behave like
animals.”

“It’s always going to be like that, as
long as I’m with you,” he said, his voice little more than a
whisper. “I stirred up way too much publicity by disappearing and
coming back after all that time, so the media circus just isn’t
going to die down, probably for years. I can’t keep doing this to
you and your family, Gianni. I love you way too much to keep you in
the public eye.”

“What are you saying?”

“I need to go far away from you.
That’s the only way they’ll leave you alone. They won’t at first,
they’ll still hound you for photos. But after a few weeks, when
they see we’re not together anymore, they’ll move on.”

“Zan—”

“They’ll never leave me alone, though.
Never. What just happened out there will be my life until the day I
die. Any time I try to go out in public, it’ll be like that. The
only way to avoid it is to go back into hiding, and I refuse to
make that your life, too. You belong out here in the world, Gianni,
living and experiencing all it has to offer.”

“No,” I whispered, trying to stay calm
and not alarm the child in my arms. “I belong with you.”

Zan fought back his emotions, agony in
his eyes as he said, “I love you more than anything, Gianni. I need
you to know that. I’m walking away because I want you to have the
best life possible, and that’s not going to happen with me around.
You can have the house in Marin if you want it, I’m not going back
there. I’ll call my lawyer and have him put it in your name and set
up a bank account for you. I’ll make sure you never want for
anything.”

“
I don’t need any of that,
Alexzander,” I said, my voice breaking even though I was trying so
hard to keep it under control. “All I need is you.”

A tear spilled down his cheek. “No you
don’t, love. You’re strong and capable and you really don’t need me
at all. I’d just be a burden. You’d spend your life having to take
care of me. I’m such a total disaster, Gianni. I’ve been trying to
make it seem like I’m okay, but it’s been a lie. I’m barely holding
it together. That’s already bad enough, but when you combine it
with the insanity you’d have to face every time you left the house,
it’s just not worth it.”