Authors: Jenna Jones
"Isn't there always? Well, I'm glad he came, and I know you were. It does leave the question of what you're planning next, though."
"The only thing I'm planning right now is to go home and sleep. Beyond that--" He shrugged. "We'll see what tomorrow brings."
"Just don't leave without saying goodbye."
"Simon--"
Simon smiled and chucked him under his chin. "You'll have a lot of opportunities in London."
"I'll have a lot of opportunities here, too." Impulsively he hugged Simon. "For which I have you to thank, and for making tonight so perfect, and everything."
Simon laughed and patted his back. "I know, son. I know. You're very welcome. Go home. I'll have figures for you in a few days."
"Thank you," he said again. He took one more look around, wishing he could enjoy this night more, and walked out of the gallery.
Stuart was in the lobby, looking at Jamie's city mural. "I thought you'd left," Jamie said.
"I was waiting for you. This is yours, of course." He nodded to the mural.
"Simon commissioned it as a permanent installation."
"Good choice. I've always liked this setup--it gives a visitor a hint of what to look for before they actually step inside. Of course, Simon has always been very proud of his artists. He'll look after your career well."
"I think he will," Jamie said.
"If you decide to stay in San Francisco, that is. What will happen if you leave is another question. If you went to New York I could give you some names, and of course, if you come home, there's me."
"Do you need a taxi to your hotel?" Jamie said and Stuart laughed.
"At some point you will have to give me an answer, dearest boy."
"You're going to have to give me more time to think about it first," said Jamie. "So do you need a ride or a taxi or anything?"
"I'd love a ride," Stuart said, gaze dropping to Jamie's mouth, and Jamie felt himself blush.
You're being ridiculous, he thought. "I'll give you a lift, then. Come along."
***
In the car Stuart said, "I want to see where you live," so Jamie took him home. Stuart spent a few minutes looking around turned to him. "Who decorated this place? It's dreadful."
"I did, and I like it," Jamie said, frowning.
"I taught you better than this." He leaned close to look at the novel covers pinned to the wall. "Don't tell me you've read all of these."
"I like the artwork. Not all of us want to live in a perfect white box with one perfect shelf and three perfect stones."
"And one perfect Picasso," Stuart reminded him. He gestured to the wall. "This is a step down."
"I like it," Jamie repeated.
"At least you remember how to dress," Stuart said, turning to him again and smiling. "You were marvelous tonight, you know."
"Was I?" Jamie said and straightened his shoulders a little.
"You were. You were the master of that party. Even that flutist couldn't keep his eyes off you, and he could have anyone he wanted, even me. If he'd asked." He smiled, though mostly to himself. "But then, you've always been the brightest thing in the room."
Jamie smiled uncomfortably and said, going into the kitchen, "Drink? I don't have twenty-year-old scotch, but I do have some beer that's pretty good. It's a microbrew from Sonoma."
"I don't need a drink," said Stuart and crossed the room. He caught Jamie by the shoulder and pulled him close. He whispered, "I've missed you so much, dearest boy," and kissed him, holding Jamie's face in both hands as the kiss deepened. Jamie closed his eyes, but at the first tap of Stuart's tongue he placed his hand on Stuart's chest and pulled back, shaking his head.
"Don't do that, please." He turned away.
Stuart stood there for a moment and then said, "I think I do need that drink. Let's try that microbrew." Jamie got the bottles from the fridge and opened them, and handed one to Stuart. Stuart took a sip, then nodded. "Not bad. It's not a German ale, but it's not bad. So." He looked at the choices of seating and decided on a bar stool. "Who's the reason I'm not kissing you?"
"It's complicated."
"Hm…that must mean I get to guess. You'd just met the flutist. That Micah-child was very pretty but the two of you were so tense together I suspect the relationship is in the past, not the future. It must be the stunning one with the hippie name."
"No--Dune's my friend, we're not--" He shook his head again. "You didn't meet him. Ben."
"The very handsome one in all those paintings that you didn't speak to all night."
"That's the one. I'm a bit obsessed, I admit."
"You do get obsessive, dearest boy," he said and combed his fingertips through Jamie's hair. "You had an argument, then."
"Yeah. We did. Though I suppose, given how every other relationship I've had has gone, I shouldn't be surprised."
"Jamie, that's a terrible thing to say."
"Is it?" he said. "Or is it just the truth? The truth often is terrible. That's its nature." He pinched a fold of fabric on Stuart's dinner jacket. "You said you loved me, but you left me. Micah said he loved me, but he left me, too. And I was starting to think Ben might love me, but clearly not. Maybe you can tell me what's wrong with me."
Stuart frowned and held Jamie's face again, leaning their foreheads together. "Nothing is wrong with you," he said as if he truly believed it. "When we met you were a boy, and when I realized you were becoming a man and wouldn't need me any more I…reacted badly."
"You fucked another bloke in our bed."
"I'm not proud of that. Jamie. I've missed you so much. Please come home."
Jamie looked up at him: his sincere blue eyes, his handsome, trustworthy-looking face. He said, moving his face from Stuart's hands, "This is my home."
"This city? It's a glorified fishing town!"
"It's San Francisco! I love it. I love my friends, I love the atmosphere, I love that I can hold my lover's hand walking down the street and not be afraid--"
"You can have all that in London. Or Paris. You liked Paris. I still have the chateau….you remember the chateau," he said, his voice growing lower. "How we made love in every room and walked in the vineyards and you painted the walls….I've never painted over your murals."
Jamie sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. "I remember the chateau. I remember the house in Cornwall. I remember the flat, too, and how it felt to come home to find you in bed with someone else."
"You can't punish me for that forever--and you can't run every time someone hurts you."
"It's remarkably easy."
"It's remarkably cowardly." Jamie looked at him through his lashes and Stuart smiled. "You want to know what's wrong with you, Jamie? You don't forgive."
"You think I should just sit back and take it, then, when someone who claims to love me cheats on me?"
"No--but you didn't need to run five thousand miles away from me, either. I know I hurt you, but you can't let that color everything else you do for the rest of your life." He paused and Jamie folded his arms, frowning. "What happened between you and Micah?"
"He fucked his roommate and lied about it. Apparently because I'm 'too much.'"
"You are a lot, Jamie," Stuart said in an indulgent tone. "Your flair for drama, to begin with."
"I'm not being dramatic," Jamie muttered. "I'm just sick of this. All I want is to be the most important person in someone's life--why is that so much to ask?"
Stuart laughed. "Oh, Jamie. It won't be too much to ask when somebody is the most important person in yours."
Jamie frowned at his shoes and tightened his arms around himself. "You were my world, Stuart."
"Your art is your world. The rest of us are just lucky it shares you with us sometimes." He went to Jamie and held his shoulders, kissing the top of his head. "I've always wanted to see Napa Valley. It's supposed to be lovely. Come away with me?" He lifted Jamie's head so he could look into his eyes. "Come away with me and think about what you want to do next. I promise not to pressure you about London. Much."
"Why?" Jamie said, looking at him directly. "Why do you want me back, Stuart?"
Stuart smiled faintly and smoothed his hands over Jamie's head and shoulders. "Because I miss you. Come away with me. No pressures. No demands. Just you and me and wine country."
It sounded heavenly--getting out of the city for a few days, going to a place where he could think. There were so many decisions to make that he hadn't even considered the day before.
And he'd missed Stuart, too.
He put his arms around Stuart's chest and leaned his head against his shoulder. "I'd love to. It sounds perfect. Thank you." Stuart's arms tightened around him, and Jamie said, "But could we have separate rooms, please?"
Stuart was quiet a moment, then said, "As you like."
"You did say no pressure."
"I did. And I mean it. But I do hope you'll change your mind." He kissed Jamie's forehead. "I think I would like a cab after all."
"I can drive you to your hotel. It's no trouble. And pick you up when you're ready to leave for Napa."
"All right. It won't be until later in the day--I'm invited out for brunch. Can I convince you to come along?"
"No, but thank you. I wouldn't mind a day just--being quiet, actually."
Stuart smiled gently. "You are growing up, dearest boy."
"One inch at a time," Jamie said and picked up his car keys.
***
It was tradition, more or less, to have Sunday brunch at Leo and Adam's, but Ben decided to skip it this week. They'd all be talking about Jamie's show, and if Leo was still upset with him he doubted he'd be welcome, anyway.
The phone rang at eleven-thirty. "Where are you?" said Leo when Ben answered. "We're waiting on you."
"I'm reading. Go on without me. I've had Pop Tarts."
Leo snorted. "That's not breakfast. Come up and eat something decent and nourishing. You're a food professional, for God's sake, you know what people need to eat."
"I don't want to come and be treated like the bad guy, okay? I've been yelled at and scolded enough."
"I'm not going to yell and I'm not going to scold. I'm going to feed you. Dune is here, if you're worried about company."
"No Jamie?" Ben said, and wondered why he felt disappointed rather than relieved.
"Not today. I'm under the impression he wants some time alone. I can't say that I blame him."
"I thought you said you weren't going to scold me," Ben muttered.
"I'm not scolding you," said Leo gently. "I think he's exhausted, really. I'd be sleeping the day away too if I were in his shoes. Come to brunch. Be with people who like you."
"Are there any left?"
Leo sighed, held the phone away from his mouth and said to the rest of the room, "Do we like Ben?"
"Yes!" came the chorus.
"There, you see? Stop sulking and come eat."
Ben smiled despite his mood. "I'll be right there." He hung up the phone and got up from bed, put on some clothes over his boxer shorts, ran a comb over his hair and took the stairs to Adam and Leo's.
The apartment was more crowded than usual on a Sunday, but most of them were familiar faces. He hugged Daniel and Ocean and Frances, shook hands with Simon and Simon's wife and Vijay--of course Vijay was part of the circle now, Ben often thought Leo would take in all of San Francisco if he had the opportunity--and got tackled by Dune, who smacked a kiss to his forehead and dragged him to the sun room. "Talk."
"Nothing to talk about," said Ben, sitting down on the stone floor with him anyway. "Ian took me home. I went to bed. I'm fine. Everything's fine. Have you talked to Jamie?"
"Not today. But there is something to talk about--Stuart's here."
"No shit," said Ben and leaned his head on his knees.
"No shit. I've got your back if he decides to pull anything--not that I know if he will, but you never know with some guys."
"Thank you, Dunie," Ben said.
Dune looked at him, and then leaned over and kissed his temple. "Come on. Leo's making Denver omelets and I think there are sticky buns in the oven."
"Sticky buns," said Ben, standing up and offering a hand to Dune. "That sounds perfect."
They went back into the living room arm-in-arm, and there was Stuart, talking with Simon. Ben took a good long look at him: he was tawny and lean and self-assured, like a lion sunning himself on the Serengeti. There were a lot of beautiful people in this room but Stuart was the most striking person in it.
He glanced away from Simon as he sipped from a cup of coffee, and his eyes met Ben's. There was a moment of recognition, and Stuart's eyes narrowed a tiny bit--and then he raised his cup to Ben in salute and went back to his conversation.
"Coffee," Ben said to Dune. "Much coffee."
Coffee was gotten, brunch was put on the table, and Ben sat between Dune and his mother, Frances, and opposite Stuart. Brunch was actually quite pleasant: Vijay told stories about the symphony and growing up in India; Leo had an anecdote about a band who'd visited his radio show that week; Adam read a little to them from his latest book of essays; Ocean had some new movies reviews. Ben said little, preferring to listen, and now and then Dune touched his hand and smiled at him in reassurance.
Ben walked Dune down to his car after brunch, and they hugged each other tight. "Promise me you'll talk to Jamie soon," Dune said seriously.
"I will. I'm not sure why you're so concerned, though, to be honest."
Dune grinned and kissed his forehead. "Because I want my friends to be happy, dork." He got into his car and drove away.
Ben watched the car go, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and then turned to go back into the building--to find Stuart leaning against a retaining wall, coolly watching him and smoking a cigarette. "Won't you join me for a moment?"
"Um, sure," said Ben and leaned against the wall beside him. Jamie had painted this, too, with the landlord's and the neighborhood association's permission: it was a history scene, with conquistadors and forty-niners and Native Americans and pioneers.
Stuart offered his cigarette, which Ben accepted and took a slow drag. It was strong and bitter tobacco--English cigarettes, he supposed. They smoked in silence for a few minutes, then Stuart said, "This really is a lovely city. I never realized."