Zipper Fall (34 page)

I didn’t know what possessed me to buy that huge acrylic painting. There was something thrilling about its flame-colored sunset against a powdery blue sky, its stunning display of flamboyant color reflecting in the window glass of tall skyscrapers. The buildings looked soaring and hopeful despite their gray concrete. Colored light reflected in their huge windows. Clouds floated by, their distorted images like watercolors seeping into old paper.

“That’s a little tall, Wy. It will never fit above your bureau.”

“It will. I’m hanging it sideways.”

W
E
RINSED
off quickly, taking turns and changing into the nicer clothing we’d brought with us. I slipped into casual charcoal trousers and a black dress shirt that had never failed me, tousled my hair with a bit of gel, and I was done. Well, actually I spent a lot more time on the hair than I had on getting dressed. Brushing it out, fluffing it up, and making it obey my will felt a lot like putting on war paint before the tribe encountered the white invaders. Only the rest of me was the same as ever: plain and unadorned.

I saw Reyna in her black jeans, a green silk blouse, and a black and red leather jacket.

“The jacket? Really?” I smiled, remembering the time she found it in a thrift store many years ago. It had been love at first sight.

“It has pockets, so I don’t have to carry a purse. It’s getting colder, too.”

She was right—the weather had broken and leaves were beginning to turn. My jacket was at Jack’s, but I had another one from years ago. After some rummaging, I found it: an old coat from a vintage store. It was fitted from the waist up, its stand-up collar offsetting my jawline and cheekbones. From the waist down, the coat draped down my legs in a graceful swirl, reaching well below my knee. I never buttoned it all the way down, so it didn’t look like a dress. Its dove-grey lining peeked as I moved before the mirror.

“You still have this old thing?” Reyna asked, amazed. “I haven’t seen it in years. What a rag.”

“You’re just jealous.” I grinned. “Ready?”

Tamari was twenty minutes on foot from where I lived. We sauntered up in companionable silence, arriving fashionably late, only to see Auguste and Jack standing outside the establishment, immersed in quiet conversation.

“They’re talking. You think Jack told him anything?”

Reyna flashed me a surprised look. “Why would he? Giving you bruises isn’t something to boast about.”

I gave a relieved sigh. “I guess.”

Auguste looked odd without his suit and tie, although the white leather jacket fit him fine, forming a canvas to counterbalance his natural pallor and black hair. Jack was dressed up in a beige suit that offset his chestnut hair to an advantage—only his tie picked up the blue of his eyes. He was dressed up as though this was a date and it mattered.

He looked me up and down, his gaze hungry. “Wyatt.”

“Hello, Jack.” I turned to Pillory and offered my hand. “Good to see you, Auguste.”

His solemn eyes warmed as he nodded. “And it’s good to see you, Wyatt. Shall we?”

Reyna only nodded in Azurri’s direction, receiving a similar curt nod in return. Reyna and Auguste walked between us, brushing their fingertips. They made a good buffer between Jack and myself.

We had some wine with dinner; the food was very good as always. We discussed politics and the business climate, then decided to skip dessert. I was dying for some chocolate cake, but Auguste declared he was paying, and I knew he wasn’t a dessert eater, so I didn’t order any. So far, so good. No disasters, no horrid clashes of opinion, no spoiled dishes that had to be sent back. I excused myself to go to the restroom and wound my way between the tables to the stainless-steel bead curtain, which separated the entrance to the restroom from the bar area.

The men’s room marble floors swirled with designs belying their metamorphic origin; the stalls were made of reclaimed dolomite, and I took a bit longer than usual, seeing how many different fossils I could find on my door. Realizing I’d gotten a bit distracted, I finished up and rushed out.

Auguste sat at the table alone.

I sat down and looked around. “Where are they?”

Auguste trained his gaze at me. “They are outside.”

“But they don’t smoke!”

“They need to talk.” His eyes softened as he looked me over. “Are you feeling well, Wyatt?”

The question surprised me. Rarely, in my two years of employment at his company, had he asked me a direct and personal question. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t say anything for a while. Then he averted his eyes in that “this discussion is over” way of his. But it wasn’t. “Jack used to have a frightful temper when he was much younger. Did you know that?”

I shook my head, not liking where this might lead.

“If there is anything you’d ever like to discuss, even matters of… a personal nature, please do not hesitate to talk to me. If you have the need, that is.”

My eyes widened in shock and heat rose up to my cheeks. “Th-thank you, Auguste.” I still felt ill at ease using his given name, but his offer was nothing short of astounding. Sipping my coffee, I tried to disguise my surprise.

“Ah, here they come. The bill is settled. We may leave anytime.”

I looked at Reyna’s date. Whatever warmth there had been in his face evaporated, leaving him with his customary mask of feigned calm and indifference I’d come to associate with old money.

Reyna sat down next to Auguste and reached for her tea. “It sure has gotten colder out there,” she said, warming her hands on the large cup. She smiled, but her smile didn’t quite make it all the way up to her eyes. I shot her a questioning look, but she shrugged. “Jack,” Reyna said, “I’ll be leaving with Auguste. It’s been so good to clear the air. I’m sure you and I could easily work together now, as things stand.”

Jack nodded his head, clearing his throat. “Yeah.” His voice was a bit raspy and not very strong. He turned to me. “I drove to get here. You… would you care for a ride?”

My eyes flashed a quick look at his sapphire blue irises; they gave away nothing. “My place isn’t far from here,” I mumbled, not eager to be left alone with him. We would probably have to talk then, and it would lead to unpleasantness.

“What a great opportunity for Jack to see our hard work today,” Reyna said in a chipper voice, and I felt something kick my shin. I looked at her face and the way she looked radiant with her hair flowing loose the way she thought Auguste liked it, and I knew it had been her.

Something was afoot.

“Sure,” I said, turning to Jack again, unease seeping to the very core of my being. “If you wouldn’t mind….”

“It would be my pleasure.” His tone was formal and polite.

I hardly knew what to make of it.

T
HE
drive over was quiet. He offered to walk me up.

“Hey… come in.” There was no use hesitating as I opened the door. He’d find out sooner or later.

“What’s all the cardboard?” he asked, surveying my wreck of a living room.

“Those are the boxes the furniture came in. Here, come see!” Plastering an excited grin onto my face, I led him to my new bedroom. The frameless painting did indeed bring life to my private space. My grandfather’s old clock hung on the wall beside it, adding just a touch of a connection to the old country. I walked in, inviting him to my inner sanctum.

His eyes took it all in, everything new, shiny, clean. “You don’t like living with me.” His voice was flat and hollow.

“I’ve come to realize I really appreciate having my own space,” I said evenly, my eyes on the horizontal planes of the sideways city landscape.

“Wyatt….”

I turned my eyes to him.

“Wyatt, I am so sorry. I hadn’t realized… I didn’t hear you say anything specific at the time.”

We both knew what he was talking about.

“Now I get it. Reyna said… Wyatt….” He crossed over to me, grasping my shoulders in his large hands.

I didn’t mean to flinch, but the bruises were still tender.

He let go of me. “Is there anything I can do?”

I shrugged. “This is new territory for me, Jack. I… I just need some time. Some space. I want to build my business and see my friends and go climbing. I’ll see you around a good bit, I expect.”

“And you won’t mind that?”

“N-no. I won’t mind that at all.”

He gave the room a look. “It’s nice. I didn’t realize you were so spartan in your taste.”

“I’m not…. It reminds me of your room.” The words just kind of slipped out, and there was no way to take them back.

Jack flashed me a small, diminutive version of his sexy grin. He took a step toward me and slowly took my hand, lifted it to his lips, and brushed his lips against my fingertips. “How are you feeling, Wyatt?”

I shrugged. “I accepted your apology, but… I’m sorry, but my feelings are… unsettled. I am still angry. I’m angry at you, and I’m angry at me.”

“Why at yourself?” The warmth of his hand, the sincere curiosity in his voice, all that conspired to make something snap deep inside me.

“Because I’m so weak. So weak, anyone can invade my space in the shower and take what they want, if they’re so inclined. And it’s so damn hard to say something when things start to go bad. Jack… you were so angry… so angry…. I was afraid you were going to take things a bit further than either of us felt comfortable. You know, punish. Dominate. The whole situation—you pushing me around like that—everything about it felt just so… humiliating.” My eyes felt slightly moist and red rage filled me at the memory. To my utter horror, I felt a teardrop escape my eyelids.

I never expressed negative emotions well. They have always been channeled into violence or antisocial behavior. It’s not something I am proud of, but at this instant, I thought I needed to settle the score. Banish the fear. Reclaim what was mine. It wasn’t the bruises on my shoulders I needed to banish—it was the sense of trust and security I mourned.

“I’m gonna slug you now,” I told Jack right before I let my fist fly through the air that divided us. It cracked against Jack’s cheek, splitting his upper lip.

He hissed in pain but didn’t move. “I deserved that,” he said with a curt nod, his words enunciated despite the thin trickle of blood coming down the corner of his mouth. “I’d never do that… I’d never take what you were unwilling to give, but, yeah… I’ve been an asshole.”

He forced an exhale. “I… Wyatt… I think I’ll always be alone. I don’t play well with others. You know that by now. The people I love just wink out of my life before their time. My parents perished at sea—they hired a charter boat for their wedding anniversary. I was still in college at the time. The boat got caught up in a storm. They were gone, just like that. And then, last year, Celia. She was laughing at some stupid joke one day, then she headed out to the West-by-God for a quick climb, and… gone. Now you—when you disappeared off my radar screen like that, I—I panicked.” His eyes shone bright, but his composure held. Jack wasn’t the kind of guy who would cry. “My first thought was, another one down. Another one gone.”

He stood on the threshold of my new bedroom, looking entirely bereft and alone. Ready to be told to please go, go and never come back. His haunted eyes misted over and he turned, headed for the door. The man I loved.

Leaving.

Another one was leaving me.

“Don’t leave.” I was behind him in a flash. I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his shoulder. “I’m staying here tonight. You’re welcome to join me.”

Jack turned around, letting his arms swallow me in a hungry embrace. We fit so well, he and I.

“There’s just one thing….” I looked up at him, already tempted by his soft, passionate lips.

“Anything, Wyatt.” His words were gentle.

“I don’t feel like doing anything. Probably won’t, not until the bruises fade.”

“Oh… I’m so very, very, very sorry….” His words were whispered into the crook of my neck as we rocked from side to side, soothing one another. “What do you do to channel your anger?” he asked, finally breaking the long silence.

I shrugged. “I break dishes.”

“Break dishes….” I heard his awed whisper by my ear. Somehow, he sounded like he was trying to remember a new phone number.

“Break dishes… break dishes… break dishes….”

A
FTER
casting my suit jacket over a spare office chair, I unbuttoned the cuffs that restrained the pristine white sleeves of my work shirt and loosened my tie.

“Can’t believe it’s Thursday already,” I yawned at Rick Blanchard. He was young—my age, I guess—and as his white-haired head lifted from the cheat-sheet for his introductory remarks, his pale blue eyes shone with an alien, almost maniacal gleam.

We were long past the introductory dance of two coworkers, where both parties are polite and a bit strained. He had asked his inappropriate questions about my relationship with Jack, presumably getting the lay of the land. I’d already retaliated by mentioning his freaky white hair, and was regaled with the tale of his sight-saving eye surgery that was somehow related to his lack of pigmentation. “It
was
scary,” he said. “But better than being blind, right?” All that was just water under the bridge; now we worked like a well-oiled machine.