Something Like Winter (46 page)

As he waited, staring at
the house, Tim could imagine walking through the door and
discovering his mother’s often-cleaned but rarely used living room.
Or maybe he would hear his father in the den, shouting at a
football game on TV. Regardless of what he would actually find
behind the front door, Tim felt certain he and Ryan came from
similar worlds.

After twenty minutes, Ryan
came out of the house lugging a stuffed duffle bag and wearing a
scowl. Tim hopped out and popped the trunk.

“
How’d it go?”

“
Let’s get the fuck out of
here!” Ryan went to the passenger side and got in, slamming the
door after him.

Tim looked at the house,
expecting to see his own parents at the window, judgment on their
faces, but no one was there. He drove in silence, letting Ryan
decide when he was ready to talk. Sometimes Tim had needed physical
distance from his parents before he felt free enough to express
himself.

“
They’re cutting me off,”
Ryan said.

“
What do you
mean?”

“
School. They won’t pay my
tuition. My dad acts like going to college made me gay or
something. He says the environment there ‘supports my bad
decisions.’ So now I’m on my own, unless I want to move back in and
go to the stupid Nazarene college he went to.”

“
I’m sorry,
man.”

“
It’s fine.” Ryan’s laugh
was bitter. “I told them I was moving in with my boyfriend. You
should have seen the looks on their faces!” Their expressions
probably matched Tim’s, but he hid it before Ryan turned to face
him. “Is that all right?”

“
The boyfriend thing or
moving in?”

“
Whatever,” Ryan scoffed,
his scowl deepening before he turned to the window. “Never mind.
I’ll find somewhere else to crash.”

Not the best time to kid
around, apparently. “It’s cool,” Tim said, not knowing if it was.
“Both things, I mean.”

Ryan didn’t react at first,
still watching the scenery whiz by outside. Then he exhaled,
shoulders relaxing, and reached for Tim’s hand.

Chapter
Twenty-nine

Ryan crept into the
bathroom, draped in a pink robe and matching slippers, taking
comically large steps like Elmer Fudd sneaking up behind Bugs
Bunny.

“
Burglar!” he
hissed.

Tim peered at him in the
steamed-up mirror, shaving razor poised. “Huh?”

“
There’s someone
downstairs!” Ryan stage-whispered. “You’re being
robbed!”

In the middle of the
morning? This had to be a joke. “Think he’ll take the couch? We
could use a new one.”

“
I’m serious!” Ryan’s
eyebrows came together, stage one of the “soon to throw a fit”
warning system.

“
All right,” Tim said,
dropping the razor in the sink and grabbing a towel to wrap around
himself. “I’ll check it out. Is he a big guy?”

“
Huge!” Ryan held his arms
out like a hula-hoop, and Tim nearly laughed.

“
And what exactly is he
doing down there?”

“
Poking through the
refrigerator.” Even Ryan looked uncertain at this
behavior.

Tim hid his smile,
splashing the remaining foam from his face before heading for the
hallway. “Come on. If I’m going to risk my life defending my
home—and my vegetables—I want a witness.”

“
Wait!” Ryan darted into
the bedroom, returning with a cell phone that he held before him
like a crucifix. “I’ll take photos. We can use them in
court.”

“
Good idea.” Tim marched
downstairs like he had something to prove. When he entered the
kitchen, Marcello was already perched on a bar stool, glass of
champagne in hand.

“
Well!” he breathed, eyeing
Tim in his towel. Then he noticed Ryan. “Well, well!”

Tim charged him, which took
Marcello by surprise, but as soon as he was close enough he gave
him a hug that nearly knocked him off the stool. Tim grinned. “Why
are you always creeping around my house?”

“
Isn’t it obvious?”
Marcello nodded at Ryan, who had stopped taking photos and was now
looking puzzled.

Tim gave basic
introductions, not bothering to explain who was who. The reasons
Ryan was there were fairly obvious, and Marcello—there was no
explaining him.

“
I came to drag you out of
the house again,” Marcello said, “but I see you have a very good
reason for staying in.”

“
What’s up? Another Eric
Conroy fundraiser?”

“
Not until autumn,”
Marcello replied. “No, this one is a good ol’ fashioned
shindig.”

Ryan perked up and came
closer. “A party?”

“
The
party,” Marcello corrected. “My fiftieth birthday, in
fact!”

“
Those are always fun,” Tim
said coyly.

Marcello was shameless.
“Indeed they are. This year I’ll be hosting from home, and there
will be more beautiful boys and bubbling booze than
ever.”

Tim nodded knowingly. “I’m
sure there will be, but we sort of have our own thing going
here.”

“
Ah, the honeymoon phase!
But there’s no excuse for you not to pop in, not when you live so
close.”

“
It sounds cool,” Ryan
said.

Tim glanced over at him. He
appeared genuinely interested. Was he getting bored of his dream
life already? “All right,” Tim said. “You heard the little lady.
We’ll be there.”

The party took place the
following evening. Ryan suggested they buy fresh outfits to wear,
which Tim agreed to. Ryan ended up with five new outfits, but Tim
had no one to blame but himself. When those sky blue eyes were
turned on him, his willpower simply vanished. And he had to admit
that Ryan looked good wearing a form-fitting dress shirt and
ultra-tight jeans. Tim kept sneaking peeks at him on the drive to
Marcello’s, planning to make it an early evening so he still had
plenty of energy in bed.

The party was in full swing
when they arrived. Marcello’s palatial home had its own ballroom,
which is where the festivities were centered, but guests were free
to roam all but a series of rooms that Marcello referred to as his
inner sanctum. As soon as the birthday boy spotted them, he
disengaged himself from a conversation to join them.

Marcello always made time
for Tim, as if he were an important old friend. In a way, they had
transferred the love they felt for Eric to each other, even though
they were both poor replacements.

“
Happy fiftieth, old man,”
Tim said, giving him a hug. “This year I actually got you a
present.”

“
Oh, thank you!” Marcello
accepted the small package before turning to Ryan. “And I owe you a
debt of gratitude for dragging Tim here. You know, sometimes I
think he’s older than I am.”

“
Keep celebrating your
fiftieth every year and I will be,” Tim retorted.

“
Pay him no mind,” Marcello
said.

But Ryan wasn’t paying
attention to either of them. Instead he was looking across the room
to a group of younger guys, most of them nearly his age or pretty
enough to pass as such. “Is everyone here gay?” he asked, eyes not
leaving them.

Marcello’s head bobbed
along with his chins. “Nearly.”

Eyes alight, Ryan’s head
whipped around to Tim. “Mind if I mingle?”

Tim shrugged. “Have
fun.”

Marcello chuckled as soon
as Ryan was out of earshot. “Feels like releasing him back into the
wild, I imagine.”

“
Exactly. I found him with
a broken wing, took him in, and made him all better. Now he’s ready
to fly again.”

“
So the honeymoon is
over?”

Tim blinked. “I hope not.
I’ve gotten used to him being around.”

“
Never fear. I don’t think
he’s ready to build his own nest just yet. Let him have his fun
now, and he’ll be back in your bed tonight.” Marcello tore the
paper from his present. “One of your paintings? No, too small for
that. Ah!”

Tim waited while Marcello
examined the small frame. He had found a box of Eric’s old photos
in a closet, among them one of Eric and Marcello clinking wine
glasses with exaggerated grins. Both were much younger in the
photo, Marcello a few pounds lighter.

Marcello opened his mouth,
no doubt to say something witty, but then shook his head, eyes
misty.

“
You all right?” Tim asked,
patting him on the back.

“
Fine, yes,” Marcello said.
“It’s just… Sometimes you think you have it all, but then you
remember how youth and friendships slip away.”

“
I didn’t mean to make you
sad.”

“
No! It’s a happy reminder,
in a melancholy sort of way.” Marcello considered him. “Love suits
you, you know.”

Tim glanced to where Ryan
had already made new friends. “Do you think it’s love?”

“
You tell me.”

Tim thought about it a
moment. “I need a drink.”

The party was pleasant. Tim
had attended enough of these occasions that he had plenty of
conversation partners when Marcello wasn’t available. He tried
hanging out with Ryan and his new crew, but they were all so young
and wired that Tim really did feel fifty. Ryan had forged a fast
friendship with a guy named Stephen, who—aside from having short
hair and a slightly broader build—could have been Ryan’s
twin.

Tim wandered around the
party, constantly deflecting questions about his post-college life.
Eventually he grew tired of making excuses for himself and dragged
Ryan out of the party and back to the car.

“
So how long have you known
him?” Ryan asked on the ride home.

“
Marcello? Years now. Ever
since my sophomore year in college.”

“
Oh, so you have a sugar
daddy too?”

Tim nearly hit the brakes.
“No, and what do you mean
too?
Marcello isn’t my sugar daddy, and I’m definitely
not yours! Got it?”

“
Don’t freak out. It was
just a joke.”

“
It didn’t sound like
one.”

Ryan made a face, like Tim
was being over-sensitive. “So where do you get your money, then?
You never work.”

“
I told you about Eric
already.”

“
Oh, that’s right.
He
was your—”

Now Tim really did hit the
brakes, shocking Ryan into silence. “What the hell is wrong with
you?”

“
What’s wrong with you?”
Ryan shot back. “Jesus Christ, lighten up already.”

Tim reined in his anger.
“Eric was special to me. I don’t like jokes about him.”

“
You didn’t let me finish,”
Ryan said. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“
Fine. Finish the
sentence.”

“
He
was your sugar daddy.”

Ryan cackled in amusement
while Tim stared at him in grim silence. Then he took his foot off
the brake and drove the rest of the way home, refusing to look at
Ryan until they were inside. When he did, he thought Ryan’s pupils
looked funny. Was that a trace of white powder on his
nostril?

“
Everyone fucks to get
something,” Ryan said, following Tim into the kitchen. “Sometimes
it’s love and sometimes it’s money.”

“
You don’t know what you’re
talking about.”

“
Don’t I?”

“
What the hell is that
supposed to mean?” Tim shouted. “If all you’re here for is money,
you can leave right now!”

Ryan strutted close to him.
“Some people fuck just to get fucked.”

When Ryan kissed him, Tim
tried to remain cold, but he couldn’t. He kissed back, enjoying
himself when suddenly he felt pain. His bottom lip had been bitten
hard enough to draw blood. Ryan pulled back, eyes brimming with
satisfaction. Was this part of the game now? Tim was so disgusted
that he felt like smacking him, but Ryan had taught him a better
way to deal with pent-up aggression. In case he’d forgotten, Ryan
was already undoing Tim’s pants before working on his own. Needing
to be purged of his anger and wanting those angel eyes to come
back, Tim spun Ryan around, bent him over the kitchen counter, and
took out his frustration. Ryan grinned the entire time.

* * * * *

The honeymoon was over.
Marcello’s words were prophetic. Tim didn’t know what he had done,
if anything, to cause the change, but Ryan’s dark side had slipped
out of the bedroom and into the light of day. Usually this
materialized as sadistic humor, Ryan taking unprompted cheap
shots.

Ryan spent much of his time
with his new friends. Even when he was home, his ear was glued to
the phone while he chatted with Stephen or one of his circle. Ryan
also possessed an eerie sense of knowing when he had pushed Tim to
the very edge. More than once Tim had been ready to kick him out.
Then, out of the blue, his sugar-sweet boy would return.

With the fall semester
drawing near, Tim kept encouraging Ryan to re-enroll. Of course
money was an issue, so he pulled a few strings with Marcello, as
Eric had probably once done for him. He got Ryan model work that
would earn him enough in just a few weekends to pay for his
sophomore year. Ryan seemed thrilled at first, especially since he
would be working with some of his new friends, but he came home
after only a few hours on the first day.