Happy (15 page)

we’ve got. Surely you can trust her by now.”

“What of your responsibilities? When is the last time I took

vacation? Huh?”

Peter gritted his teeth. It was so unfair. “I’m not asking for the night

off—just a couple of hours. It’s the middle of the week, Pop. You know we

won’t be busy. This is important.”

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“So is this restaurant. When I came to this country, I had nothing but

you and your mother. I knew no one. You think I get this far by doing

whatever I feel like?”

“No, Pop.” Peter sighed. He knew better than to try to win this

argument. He never would.

“No. I worked hard. Just as you work hard.” He clapped Peter on

the back. “If she loves you, she will understand. Family comes first. No

matter what.”

Through the plate-glass windows, Peter saw Thanos standing on the

sidewalk, smoking, and his spirits brightened. If Pop wouldn’t take him

seriously, maybe it was time he found someone who would.

“Don’t you clean up nicely.” Annie let out a wolf whistle when he

emerged from the restroom where he’d changed out of his work clothes.

Peter had run home to grab some necessities on his break and then stashed

them in the supply closet. Shaving over the tiny chipped sink had been a

challenge—God, the restrooms needed a good reno—but he’d managed not

to slit his throat. And when he gave himself a final once-over in the fogged

mirror, he thought he looked good. Okay, maybe not good—but definitely

better than usual. Annie apparently agreed with him.

He glanced around the empty restaurant, well aware of the pitiful

irony: thirty-two years old and sneaking out on a date. No, not a date, he

corrected himself.

Annie leaned in and gave him a sniff. “And you don’t smell like meat

on a stick either.”

He pushed her head aside and handed her the spare key. “Thanks for

doing this, Annie.”

“Our little secret. I hope he appreciates the effort.”

“How did you—?”

“Puh-lease, you never go to this trouble for that skank you’re dating.”

Peter froze, his heart racing, not sure how to take her comment. She smiled

gently at his unease. “Chillax, dude. It’s cool.”

“Yeah, cool,” he echoed uneasily. He couldn’t tell her it wasn’t only

Louie making him anxious, but what he’d done this afternoon. His secret

conversation with Thanos was burning a hole in his gut.

“But your tie is crooked. Let me help you with it.”

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He stood still while Annie fussed with his collar and tie. It had

been ages since he’d worn anything but the black slacks and shirt. His

old clothes were a little tight, but they’d do. “You sure you’re okay with

this?” he asked.

“Pete, we’re not exactly running off our feet here. Besides, Stavros is

here to keep me company.” She motioned toward the cook. “Go have fun.

You deserve it.”

Before he could change his mind, Peter left. He stowed his dirty

clothes in the supply closet and hopped on the train downtown because it

would be cheaper than parking.

By the time he found Louie under the glittering lights of the theater,

he’d worked himself into a bit of a panic. It wasn’t a date, he knew that, but

he wanted it to be. And he couldn’t help the jolt of excitement that hit him at

the sight of Louie in the dress shirt and tie he wore for work. It was a good

thing he’d changed too, or else he would have really stood out.

When Louie saw him, his eyes lit up. Or maybe that was only wishful

thinking. “You made it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’m late.” Peter had worried there might be some

lingering tension, but Louie seemed entirely comfortable. He should be

grateful for that. Except he wasn’t.

“You’re not late.” Louie raised an arm—for a hug? A brotherly pat on

the back?—but appeared to change his mind and quickly dropped it back to

his side. “There’s still lots of time. But let’s find our seats.”

Peter hadn’t been to the theater since a class trip to see
Phantom of the

Opera
in high school. Then, he’d spent more time trying to make out with

Voula Pappapetros than watching the play.

“Did you have a tough time getting off work?” Louie asked as they

settled into their seats. They were pretty good. High in the mezzanine but

with a center view of the stage.

“No problem,” Peter lied. “It’s nice to have a night off away from

the restaurant for a change. Sometimes I swear I’m going to die there.” He

heaved a sigh. “I doubt anyone would notice.”

Louie elbowed him in the arm. “I’ll notice. What kind of pretend

boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

Peter gave him a grateful smile and then turned his attention to the

program.

“Do you hate it that much?” Louie asked seriously.

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Peter considered the question. No one had ever asked him that before.

“I don’t
hate
it….”

“Peter, whenever you talk about it, it’s like the life is sucked out of

your face.”

Louie saw all that? He swallowed, his throat dry and tight. “I did it,”

he confessed on a shaky breath. All day long the need to tell someone had

been sitting on his chest.

“Did what?”

“Told Thanos—that’s the guy next door—I was interested in a new

job. He’s setting up an interview with his business partner.”

“That’s great, Peter.”

“I thought so too. But now….” He shook his head. He’d been so proud

of himself, but the guilt had begun to set in as soon as he stepped back in the

diner. “What will Pop do? They need me.”

“What about what
you
need?”

Peter felt a sudden stinging behind his eyes. Where the hell had that

come from? Louie gave his hand a brief, sympathetic squeeze. As the house

lights lowered and the orchestra struck up, Peter wished he hadn’t let go.

He enjoyed the first act, felt himself relaxing and getting into the play.

The narrow seats made it impossible to escape the heat of Louie’s body next

to his, and frankly Peter didn’t try. Louie’s right knee kept bouncing, and

soon the friction began to drive him crazy. Several times Peter snuck a peek

at his companion out of the corner of his eye and found Louie gripping his

program tight, his attention focused on the stage. What was he thinking?

Was he going to ignore this thing building between them? Or did he just not

care? By intermission Peter’s stomach was tied up in knots.

“Want a drink?” Louie asked, jumping to his feet as soon as the house

lights came up. His crinkled and torn program fell to the ground.

“Sure. I’ll get it,” Peter said.

“Oh no you won’t. I invited you, so it’s my treat. You can get it

next time.” They filed out to the lobby, and Louie joined the long line

before Peter could argue. He found himself grinning at the prospect of

a next time.

Peter leaned up against the wall, trying to stake out some space in the

milling crowd. He checked his phone. Annie hadn’t called, which hopefully

meant she had everything under control.

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“Peter?” He started at the light touch on his arm, turned his head and

found himself staring into familiar green eyes. He felt his world tilt precariously.

“Jason?” he croaked in horror.

“Oh my God, it
is
you,” the other man cried delightedly before

wrapping him in a hug.

Peter froze in the embrace. His eyes frantically searched out Louie in

the crowd.
Please, oh please, don’t let him look over here.

But Louie was still inching closer to the bar, and all Peter could see

was a sliver of shoulder and the back of his head.

“I can’t believe it,” Jason marveled, still grasping Peter by the arms.

“What are the chances of running into each other here, after all this time?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, forcing the words out from numb lips. “Imagine

that.” He tried to casually change positions, so if Louie happened to look over

this way, all he’d see would be Peter’s back and not who he was talking to.

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked.

“I think he’s here to see a play, like everyone else,” voiced another

man as he joined them. He was tall and bearded, and with a smile, he handed

Jason a glass of red wine in a tiny plastic cup.

“Thank you, hon. Harrison, this is an old friend of mine. Peter. We

used to go out.”

Peter could feel the sweat trickle down his back as the man named

Harrison shook his hand with a hearty grip. It had only been two dates, he

wanted to clarify. Two dates and one hurried but incredibly hot hand job in

the front seat of his car.

The very next day he’d gotten the call that his pop was in the hospital

and, well, you couldn’t ask for a bigger message from the universe than that.

The whole short-lived affair had left him with more questions than answers.

Could he be gay? Was he bisexual? The sex, such as it was, had been good,

but he hadn’t felt the connection he’d hoped to. Truthfully, he’d been more

than a little relieved at the time—it made things a lot less complicated.

“How’s your dad doing?” Jason asked. “I never did hear from you

after he left the hospital.”

Peter winced. “I’m sorry. I meant to call you, but there was a lot

going on—”

“Relax, Peter. I’m not angry. I think we both know we were never

going to go anywhere. And besides, it was right after that I met Harrison,

the love of my life.” The two men smiled at each other.

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Peter cast a glance at the bar. Oh hell, Louie was at the front of the

line, ordering. Any second now he’d be done and looking for him. Peter

began edging away. “It’s been great seeing you again. I’m glad everything

worked out. But I… my friend….” He pointed vaguely over his shoulder.

“Enjoy the rest of the show.”

With his heart still in his throat, Peter fought through the crush of people,

materializing at Louie’s shoulder just as he turned away from the bar.

“Couldn’t wait any longer?” he teased and handed Peter his own

plastic wineglass. “Sorry it took so long.”

“No problem.” Peter slammed the thimbleful of wine back like a shot

and grimaced when it burned a path down his esophagus.

Louie raised a brow. “You okay? You look kind of pale. And sweaty.”

“Too many people, I think.”

He was tempted to grab another drink—he desperately needed one,

even if it was cheap stuff—but just then the lights dimmed, indicating the

end of intermission. He saw Jason and his boyfriend near the doors, and

purposefully slowed their pace to put some distance between them.

Once back in the theater, he couldn’t stop scanning the darkened heads

as he waited for the curtain to rise. Fuck, that had been close. His heart still

hammered with the fear of discovery.

The crazy thing was, he didn’t understand why. Maybe he wasn’t as

ready for this as he thought. He wasn’t ready for Louie to know. Not yet.

Not when Louie said he wasn’t interested in another relationship right now,

and especially not with someone like him. Not when there was still Demetra

to deal with.

Louie knocked knees, snapping Peter back to attention. He leaned

over in his seat to whisper, “If you snore, I’m going to have to pinch you.”

At the slightest tickle of Louie’s breath against his ear, his skin prickled.

It was a long second half. Little by little he relaxed again. Every now

and then, he would glance over at Louie’s rapt face, his lips moving silently

in time with the songs. The man clearly loved his musical theater.

Peter was sorry to see it end, not so much because of the play itself,

but because it meant his night was drawing to a close. They filed out of the

theater, hanging back to avoid running into Jason again, and Louie linked

arms with him, still humming songs from the play as they walked to the

subway. It seemed so natural, Peter didn’t even question it. “Okay,” Louie

said with a knowing grin, “you can tell me—how bad was that for you?”

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“Not bad at all,” Peter replied honestly. Except for his encounter with

Jason, he’d had an awesome time, but very little had to do with the musical.

Louie regarded him speculatively. “Mmm.”

“No, seriously.”

“Yeah? How do you feel about ballet?”

“Okay, that’s where I draw the line.”

Louie laughed and held his arm tighter.

A baseball game or some other event must have just let out, because

the train was already standing room only when they boarded. Peter grasped

Louie’s sleeve so he wouldn’t lose him in the crush as he fought his way

through the crowd and carved out a place for them to stand in the corner

near the doors. At the next stop, another load of passengers pushed their

way into the train. “There must be something on tonight. It’s packed,” Louie

complained as he was jostled from behind and pushed into Peter. “Sorry.”

Peter wasn’t sorry at all. He laid a hand on Louie’s back and pulled