When Will I See You Again (36 page)

“I don’t? Who helped you to put the bloody thing together, dammit? I think you’ve really forgotten, haven’t you? Not surprising. You really were a damn bloody mess back then. All weepy and mopey and martyr-like. Went off the deep end, didn’t you? Wanted to end it all. I helped you, when you bought that little shack in the woods. Helped you set up the shrine to his memory.

Have you seen it, Alexx? It’s really quite absurd. A fitting end to a ridiculous relationship.” He turned to Raoul, a snarl on his lips.

“When you could have had me, you wanted that little boy instead.

And now you want this one. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The words, the accusation, kept playing in Alexx’s mind.

Instantly, he knew what Foster was talking about, and he knew it was true. The locked door in Raoul’s cabin. The one that he blew off his questions about. And suddenly he knew whose clothes he wore.

Foster wore a cruel grin as he watched Alexx. “See? You do know the truth. You’re playing second fiddle now, just like I always did. I would have given him the world, but I wasn’t good enough for his majesty. And soon you’ll find out that neither are you. No one measures up to that dead little boy. No one.”

As if roused from a deep sleep, or a state of shock, Raoul raised
his head to Foster. “You…killed…Jamie.” The words seemed to rise from somewhere far away. “You…killed…Jamie.”

Alexx sensed what was about to happen before it began to play out. Without thinking, he rose to his feet and leapt, even as Foster raised the gun and Raoul sprang at him. He threw himself between them. From a distance, he heard Jon’s voice crying out, “Hold your fire!” He heard Miller screaming, “Alexx!” He felt something burn inside his flesh, felt Raoul’s body cannonball into his. Together their momentum drove Foster from his feet onto the sand. He heard Raoul’s warning growl.

“Don’t, please don’t,” he murmured, watching almost dispassionately as the sand began to turn red beneath him. He closed his eyes just for a moment, and when he opened them again, policemen had swarmed the beach and they had Foster in cuffs and Raoul was shouting. Why was he shouting?
What’s wrong,
Alexx wondered, turning bewildered eyes to his lover, who held him close.

“Call 9-1-1, hurry, please!” Raoul screamed.

“Raoul, are you all right?” Alexx whispered, forcing himself to focus. Was that Raoul’s blood? Or Foster’s? What happened?

Raoul turned large gray eyes to him, almost rocking him in his embrace, kneeling on the sand. “My God, Jamie,” he murmured, over and over. Alexx stared at him in disbelief, unsure of what he was hearing.

“I can’t lose you, Jamie. I can’t.”

Alexx’s last conscious thought was,
But I’m not Jamie,
before darkness claimed him as its own.

Raoul stared into the flat screen of his computer monitor, looking but not really seeing the names shown there. The list of who had RSVP’d their attendance at the upcoming Lupercalia Ball, now only a week away. His thoughts were elsewhere, with Alexx, whom he’d not seen for over a week, not since his discharge from the hospital. The bullet wound he’d suffered at Foster Levine’s hands turned out to be blessedly non-life threatening. It had looked worse than it was. The amount of blood he’d shed, as well as his blacking out, had only added to Raoul’s panic at the time.

The rest of that night was a blur of sounds and images. Jon cuffing the still ranting Foster, who alternated between true confessions and protestations of his devotion to Raoul, swarms of uniformed policemen who trampled the wet sand, himself cradling
the pale Alexx in his arms and crooning to him until the ambulance arrived when he had to be forcibly removed, driving with his father to the hospital having forgotten to get the key from Alexx, sitting in the hallway with his parents what felt like forever until Alexx was out of surgery and pronounced out of danger, hugging his mother and his father, shedding tears of relieved joy.

But then something had gone wrong. Not with Alexx, or his recovery, but with them. Something had been broken between them, and Raoul didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t know if it was even possible to make repairs.

When he’d first gone into Alexx’s room the next day—having been refused permission to enter the recovery room, told he’d simply have to wait—Alexx was quiet and unresponsive. At first, he’d put it down to the medication he was undoubtedly receiving to dull the pain, to residual trauma from what had happened. Raoul pulled a chair beside his bed and held his hand. It felt so cold, as he tried to warm it between his own.

“They’re letting you out tomorrow.” Raoul tried to cheer him up, but his words failed to produce even a small smile. “I’ll take you home, and take care of you. I can drive now, it’s okay.”

Foster’s confessions had freed Raoul from all the restrictions previously placed on him. He could come and go once again as he pleased. Without Alexx’s supervision. That made no difference to him. He still wanted Alexx in his life. Now and for always.

Alexx’s next words chilled him.

“I want to see it,” he whispered, and Raoul knew instinctively what he meant. Alexx’s blue eyes were darker than usual against the pallor of his skin. They seemed…haunted. He pleaded with him, but to no avail. Finally, against his better judgment, Raoul agreed, knowing it couldn’t end well. And it didn’t. Alexx had
gazed, wide-eyed, at all the photographs, at the assortment of candles, at the various bits of memorabilia. At the rings. After seeing what Raoul had kept from him, in the locked room that was a memorial to Jamie, he said he needed some time. Alone. And nothing Raoul said made a difference. None of his entreaties, his protestations, or his avowals. Raoul had been forced to admit defeat. Alexx packed his suitcase in silence, leaving behind the clothes that he’d worn that were once Jamie’s. Raoul had then driven Alexx back to the boarding house and watched, his heart breaking, as he’d silently left the car and never looked back.

Raoul hadn’t given up though. He returned the next day, determined to talk the situation through with his lover, hoping that a night without him would have changed Alexx’s stubborn determination. But to his dismay, the landlady informed him that Alexx had moved out, she didn’t know where he’d gone, and if she did, she wasn’t allowed to say.

A dismayed Raoul had gone by the
Chronicle
, assuming that Alexx had been reinstated there, in his old position, in light of what had happened. He was half right—Alexx had been given the opportunity to come back, but he’d turned it down. Raoul spoke to Mr. Randolph himself. The editor-in-chief was understandably disturbed by what had happened, particularly with the involvement of the publisher’s son, although that didn’t prevent him from seeing that the story was impartially and professionally covered.

He could give Raoul no information on Alexx’s whereabouts though, or what he was doing now. As Raoul left his office, disappointed, he saw Price Chancellor skulking in the hallway.

Realizing he’d been spotted, the blond newsman suddenly found pressing business elsewhere and scuttled off immediately.

And now here Raoul was…alone in his office…feeling as if
he’d lost Jamie all over again. And wishing he didn’t care so damn much.

“Do you think that’s really wise?”

His father’s voice broke unexpectedly into his reverie. Raoul raised his eyes to the figure that stood in the doorway. Philippe entered, closing the door behind him as he advanced across the room, his eyes fixed on the glass on Raoul’s desk.

“It’s just water.”

That bit of information seemed to shock his father, whose eyebrows arched before he came around the desk, glancing at the computer screen. “How is everything going?” He deftly changed the subject.

Raoul noticed his nostrils flare slightly. He had no doubt his father was sniffing for the truth, to see if the glass contained anything stronger than ice water, considering Raoul’s past track record. Surprisingly, that’s all it was, pure H20. He’d not touched a drop of alcohol since Alexx had gone. He knew nothing would dull the pain that throbbed inside his soul, and he didn’t want to lose possession of his senses, such as they were. Feeling might hurt, but it was better than the alternative.

“Everything’s fine. Right on schedule.” He indicated the names with a careless wave of one hand.

“I understand you’ve lifted the age restriction?”

Raoul nodded. He reached for the glass of water to give himself something to grip, even as his heart lurched, painfully. He’d done that for Alexx, because he was still underage, and would be until next Halloween. And he’d done it for Jamie, whose deepest wish had been to attend the ball with Raoul, once he turned twenty-one.

And for all the hopeful young men and women who simply wanted to be a part of the most festive occasion in Crescent Bay.
“There will be wristbands for the minors, and a list of their names will be given to the bartenders. They will also card those they’re not sure of. And anyone caught giving liquor to a minor will be ousted, no questions asked.”

“Sounds good,” Philippe approved. “I trust you’ve gotten your tux?”

Raoul made no reply. He busied himself with the mouse, bringing up the website for the ball, as if he wasn’t already familiar with the contents. “I’ve arranged for all the bartenders. They’ll all be in black uniform. Bouncers, too. Discreet, of course. Nothing to disturb the sensibilities of the guests.”

“Raoul, please tell me you do plan to be there.”

It wasn’t a question as much as a statement/command.

Raoul debated different answers, containing varying degrees of veracity, before finally replying. “I don’t know.” Although he really did know, and the answer was no, he had no intention of going, or of participating any more than was required by his position as head of the damn event. After this year, he’d probably give that up, too. He didn’t care about the ball, or about being there. He didn’t care about a whole fuck of a lot, to be very honest, including himself.

“I know you wanted to go with Alexx.”

Raoul stiffened, his breath catching in his throat, his jaw clenched tightly. He’d not shed a tear since Alexx left and damned if he’d do it now. He was too old for tears and he was made of sterner stuff than that.

“Not going won’t change anything.” His father’s voice was soft, and filled with understanding, and the hand he laid on Raoul’s shoulder was compassionate. “And neither will not talking to him.”

Raoul glanced up at his father, feeling the desperation in his
words. “He won’t talk to me and I can’t make him. I don’t
want
to make him. If I have to force him, then… That’s not what I want, not at all.”

“So you’re just giving up?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Glancing at the time on the computer, he realized with a start that he was late in taking his pill.

He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out the bottle, and popped one out, taking it with the water. That too was just another reminder of Alexx and how, in a very short time, he had entwined himself into Raoul’s life, leaving a large gaping wound where he’d once been.
But it wasn’t a short time,
his heart protested. Their love went back many years. And now it was gone…again.

“Yes, but I think you know what it is.”

“Humor me. Pretend I don’t know and just tell me, why don’t you?” Raoul’s words were tinged with bitterness that he tried, unsuccessfully, to rein in.

“Look at me, Raoul.”

Reluctantly, Raoul raised his gaze to meet his father’s.

“I blame myself for some of this.” Raoul’s raised eyebrows questioned why. “Maybe I should have dealt with it twenty years ago, but I didn’t. I let you carry on as you wanted and never said a word. I even gave you this place to run, thinking it would help, give you something to focus on, but I just enabled you, didn’t I?

I’m not blind to what’s been going on all this time, and I should have confronted you, but I didn’t have the heart. Raoul, I know about Jamie, and I know about Alexx, and what you believe about them. That Alexx is Jamie reincarnated. I’m not saying you’re right, and I’m not saying you’re wrong, either, because frankly I don’t know. I remember Jamie very well, and I’ve met Alexx, and I can’t say, seeing the two of you together, that the idea is entirely
without merit. And yet…even if it’s true, and I’m not saying it is…even so, Alexx isn’t Jamie, and no amount of wishing or hoping will change that, or make it true. Even if Alexx is Jamie reincarnated, he’s still Alexx. And asking him to live in the past, like a living mummy… That’s not fair to either one of you. Or to Jamie’s memory, either.” He lowered his hand, and turned away.

For a moment, neither spoke, as Philippe moved toward the door and opened it.

He turned in the doorway, placing one hand upon the frame as he looked at his son. “Your mother is expecting you to dance with her, you know,” he said softly. “Surely you don’t want to disappoint her?” Without waiting for a reply, he closed the door behind him.

Raoul grabbed the closest thing to his hand, which just happened to be a hefty paperweight, and threw it across the room.

It hit the wall with a resounding thunk, hard enough to make a dent before it dropped to the floor.

Trying to lay a guilt trip on me, Father? Seriously?