My Father's Lover Read online

  “You could pull the strings long distance.”

  “Interesting choice of words.”

  “So, if I want ten grand, do I have to suck your cock?”

  “Are you for real?” Anthony gasped.

  Michael laughed. “It was a joke.”

  “It wasn’t funny. If it’s reasonable, you’ll have the money. As the trustee, I have a responsibility to make sure you don’t just fritter Michael’s money away. Plus, you’ll make a good salary managing the club, not to mention the profits, so you shouldn’t have to touch any of the money in your trust fund.”

  “What kind of money are we talking?” Michael asked curiously.

  “Manager’s salary, around forty thousand a year. Profits vary but I’ll show you the figures from the last two years. We’ll have to split them now.”

  “Fifty-one -- forty-nine?”

  Anthony sighed. “Something like that. The accountant will take care of it all.”

  “What in hell do I know about managing a drag club?”

  “Probably as much as I knew when I took over for Daniel, not a lot. That’s why we have work to do. I think we should open the club next weekend; that would give us three days. Come in with me tomorrow. I’ll begin to show you the ropes. Eventually, we can probably take turns. There’s no reason why we both have to be there all the time after you learn how to take over.”

  There was silence.

  Anthony stood up.

  “What time tomorrow?” Michael asked.

  “After lunch is fine. The club will be empty. Did you make your phone calls?”

  He nodded. “My mother is freaking.”

  “What about the boyfriend?”

  “Don’t have one. Have several lovers; should I call them all you think?” There was a cocky grin on his face.

  “That’s up to you,” Anthony replied absently. He was about to leave when Michael said, “So, will it be Sandy or Jason? Jason has my vote. He sleeps down the hall.”

  “How about you keep your mind on learning the business? It’s far more productive.”

  “Maybe, but a hell of a lot less interesting.”

  Anthony left without any further comment on the matter.

  Michael walked over to the window, the one that Anthony had spent so much time looking out of. His life was changing right before his eyes, and he really didn’t have much say in it. He could just walk away, but the cost was high, too damn high. He couldn’t help but wonder where this was all going to lead.

  Chapter Three

  Michael’s head was spinning. “TMI,” he said to Anthony.

  “Which means?” Anthony lifted a dark eyebrow.

  “Too much fucking bloody information.”

  “No, that would be T M FBI.” He grinned.

  “Smart ass,” he replied.

  They had been at this since ten that morning and it was already three in the afternoon. Michael didn’t expect the club to be so big. Impressions was capable of holding at least four hundred seated guests. There was a dance floor, a full bar, two complete dressing rooms, and an office for the manager. In the back, there was a full stockroom, a service entrance, and a lounge. It had taken at least twenty minutes for Anthony to give him the tour. Then they had spent another three hours pouring over books full of figures, which Michael quickly lost interest in. “Can we eat now? I’m starved.”

  “I can order something in, if you’d like.”

  “Yeah, okay. Pizza would be okay.”

  “What kind?”

  “Ah, anything without meat.”

  “Vegetarian, eh?”

  “Not always.” Michael grinned, giving him a meaningful look.

  Anthony lifted an eyebrow, but he didn’t comment.

  “Pizza sounds great.” Michael watched as Anthony reached over to trace the number on the wall with his finger for the pizza delivery place, then, walked out of the office. He scanned the room where the bar and stage were situated. He could picture his father up there on that stage now. It had been weird watching those video clips of him. He and his father looked so much alike, but God, he couldn’t see himself in a dress. He wondered why in the hell any man would want to do that. From what Anthony showed him today in the dressing room, it looked like pain and torture…the waxing and plucking, those high heels and tight girdles. Jesus.

  And imagine him running a drag club! He had tried to explain it to his mother last night but she really didn’t get what he was saying, or she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She just wanted to know when he was coming home. He told her he didn’t know.

  “The pizza is on its way.” Anthony appeared suddenly.

  “Good. I’m starved.”

  “You looked deep in thought there. I know it’s a lot to digest.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Michael watched him as he walked over to the stage. They had been working together all morning, and it hadn’t made him any less immune to those good looks of his. Anthony could be charming as well. When he was explaining things to him today about how to order supplies, and keep the books, he had paused once in awhile to smile at him. It had been quite devastating. He couldn’t help but be curious about his newfound stepbrother, if he could even call him that. He didn’t appear to have a boyfriend, although it was clear that Jason and Sandy were both crazy in love with him.

  “Your father was good at what he did, and he loved it,” Anthony said, gazing at the stage.

  Michael looked over at him. “No offence, but why in hell would any man want to do that?”

  “Your father was an entertainer.” Anthony shrugged, turning toward him now.

  “Effeminate men are…”

  “Before you start lecturing, let me tell you, your father wasn’t effeminate at all. When he wasn’t working, he was as masculine as any man.”

  “But he was gay.”

  “So? Hollio is straight.”

  “He is?”

  “Yep.”

  “Or in the closet?”

  Anthony laughed. “Don’t say that to him. He’s been married three times.”

  “I don’t know any woman who’d accept that.”

  “You don’t get out much.”

  Michael’s mouth opened, then, closed. He laughed. “Hey.”

  Anthony smiled at him, one of those smiles.

  “So we agree to disagree. You won’t get me to change my mind.”

  “Fine, but if you’re going to manage this club, you’ll keep your opinions to yourself. The clients don’t share your views, thank goodness. We’d be out of business.”

  Michael nodded. “Fair enough. I won’t mention it again.”

  “Okay. Just think of it as good business, just like our arrangement.”

  Michael understood that one, loud and clear. “So, we call a truce?”

  “I think it’s essential that we establish a good working relationship. If you’re planning to live at the house, we can work out some rules which will be beneficial to both of us.”

  “I was going to live at the house, unless…”

  “You have the right to live there. I have no problem with it.”

  “What about Jason?”

  “What about Jason?”

  “Well, he obviously wants you, and he sees me as a threat.”

  Anthony froze for a moment. “Where in hell did that come from?”

  “I’ve noticed stuff.”

  “You’ve only been here three days.”

  “I’m observant. He’s cute. Why don’t you go for it?”

  “Why don’t you --” Anthony paused, his voice laced with anger. “-- mind your own fucking business?”

  Michael shrugged. “A little sensitive about it, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not sensitive about…” He stopped, then, he gave a little laugh. “I promised myself I wouldn’t let you get to me today, so I won’t. Think what you like. It makes no difference to me.”

  He walked off, leaving Michael with a smile on his lips. For someone who claimed not to be sensitive, he sur
e jumped on him fast about Jason.

  * * * * *

  Twenty minutes later they were sitting across from each other at one of the tables eating pizza. Anthony had opened a bottle of red wine. He poured them each a glass. “Are you Italian, Anthony?” Michael asked suddenly, anxious to break the silence.

  “Three quarters or something,” he said amicably, taking a bite of the pizza. He seemed to have forgotten his anger.

  “Yeah, the name gave it away, but you don’t look Italian.”

  “My great-grandfather was Italian on my father’s side, but my grandmother was Irish. My mother was of Irish descent too, I think. What about you? I know Michael was Ukrainian. What about your mother?”

  “I have no idea. I think her ancestors came over on the Mayflower, Irish or Scottish, I think. I’ve never really cared to find out.”

  “Really? I find that stuff interesting,” Anthony said. He refilled their wine glasses. “So, what’s your stepdad like?”

  “A nice guy. He’s an accountant, pretty conservative actually, but okay with me being gay.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I came out at twelve. He thinks it’s hereditary.”

  “Maybe it is.” Anthony laughed.

  “Could be.”

  They sat drinking for awhile, making small talk, both aware of the lingering silence all around them.

  “This place is filled with ghosts,” Anthony said suddenly, spilling the last of the contents of the bottle into his glass.

  “I suppose it would be for you,” Michael commented, noticing the square line of Anthony’s jaw, the deep brown shade of his eyes. He studied the strong fingers curled around the stem of the wine glass, and was captivated by how the wine lay glistening on his full bottom lip. “Tell me about how you came to live with my father and his lover,” he asked him, propelling himself out of his sudden fixation.

  Michael was surprised when Anthony said, “I don’t think so.” He put down his empty glass, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms across his chest.

  “That’s a defensive pose.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yeah, it is. It’s basic body language, beginner’s level.”

  “And what else is my body language telling you, Michael?” He gave him the finger.

  “Don’t think I want to repeat it actually.”

  “You’re a clever boy.”

  “Clever I’ll accept; boy, well, I haven’t been a boy in a long time.”

  “Ah, I detect a sexual connotation to that one. Are you telling me getting laid makes you a man?”

  Michael smiled. “It helps. The first time is usually pretty brutal though, a rite of passage. Thank God it’s so worth it.”

  Anthony didn’t comment. Instead he looked around the room.

  “So, why don’t you want to tell me about coming to live with my father and his lover? Are you afraid I might find out the truth?”

  “The truth? The truth according to Michael?” Anthony smirked a little.

  “Michael was an archangel. Did you know that?”

  “Yes, I did know that, but you’re no angel.” He met his gaze.

  Michael smiled. He felt his heart thudding in his chest for some reason. “So, if you’re not a fraud, tell me the story.”

  “It’s none of your business, actually.” Anthony sat up again in his chair and began to close the pizza box.

  Michael reached out and put a hand on his arm. Anthony paused. “Yes, it is my business, given that you got over half of what really should belong to me.”

  Anthony tilted his head, taking his hand away from the box. He stood up. “Do you really think you deserved anything, considering you practically ignored your father?”

  There was no response.

  “You know,” Anthony continued, “I’d give you the house and this club if I was sure you’d do the right thing. You could have everything. Do you think this is what I really want to do with my life?”

  Michael knew he was angry, but that didn’t convince him that he wasn’t on the right track with this stuff. “A guy who looks like you, how easy was it to seduce a couple of old queens?”

  Anthony sighed. “First of all, Daniel and your father weren’t old. Secondly, I was twelve when Daniel brought me home, and Daniel might have been a lot of things, but he was no pedophile.”

  “Twelve?”

  “And since you insist on knowing, I was living on the streets, selling my ass on the street corner. I was literally frozen half to death when Daniel found me.”

  Michael looked stunned.

  “You want the story, here it is. It was two days before Christmas. Daniel had come out of the jewellery store at the corner of Hollywood Boulevard

  . He had bought an engraved watch for your father. I tried to pick him up. He brought me here,” Anthony said, looking around as if it were only yesterday. “Your father was up there on that stage when we came in.” Anthony pointed, then, walked over to it. “He was singing You Made Me Love You, and at that time, I thought he was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen.” Anthony laughed a little. “I remember thinking, ‘I hope I don’t have to do him too.’”

  Michael swallowed.

  “Daniel wrapped me in a blanket and laid me on that old sofa in the office. He brought me sandwiches. I think I swallowed them whole. I was sure I’d have to pay him back, but I didn’t mind because he was so handsome. I even started taking off my clothes, and he stopped me.” He paused and looked at Michael. “He didn’t want anything from me. He gave and gave until I began to trust him, and eventually he and Michael were my family. So if you want this club, take it, but only if you swear to me you won’t sell it away to someone who will erase the memory of Michael and Daniel, because I can’t let you do that. In fact --” He paused and fixed him with a stare. “-- I won’t let you do that.”

  “Anthony,” he began, but he had turned his back. Michael stood up and went to place a hand on his shoulder.

  He moved away. “Don’t. Forget it.” His voice sounded thick with emotion. “I think we’ve had enough for the day. Let’s get out of here.”

  * * * * *

  Anthony drove home by himself, watching the people as they scurried out of the rain. It was well after six o’clock, and already the usually crowded streets looked lonely. Michael made some excuse to him about having stuff to do. It suited him fine. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to driving home with him. Perhaps that’s why Michael had done it, to give him an out. Who knew? Who cared really?

  He was feeling low, and that argument with Michael didn’t help. It seems all they could do was argue. He thought that once he went back to the club, it would ease the pain, help him somehow to get on with things. He was almost grateful for having to show Michael the ropes…almost.

  When he thought about what was written in that will, he had to admit that it was clever. Not only had Michael brought his son back to him, he had ensnared him in such a way that he couldn’t help but come to know something about who he was. And maybe there was even a little punishment in there for good measure. His son was now being forced to run a club he didn’t approve of, and if he wanted to make money, he’d just have to hold his nose and keep his mouth shut about it.

  But what about me? Did Michael even think about what this arrangement would do to him if he died as young as he had? Although Michael couldn’t have anticipated losing his life before Jason or his son reached the age of twenty-one, he hadn’t considered how much responsibility that put on him if it did happen that way. It wasn’t fair. And on top of it all, Michael knew he wouldn’t walk away, not because of the money. God knows, he couldn’t care less for that. He had accumulated enough money in the last few years to last him a lifetime, and there was what Daniel had left him. No, Michael knew that he had too much honour for that, and he also knew how much he loved him. The same way he knew his son would remain out of greed, he knew that he would remain out of love. Heaven only knew what in hell was going to happen once the two years
were up.

  Anthony pulled up into the driveway with a sigh. He hit the automatic door opener and rolled into the garage. He waited for it to close, then took the side door into the house. He smelled something cooking as soon as he stepped into the kitchen. Jason was standing over the stove in his bare feet, wearing only a pair of jean shorts. He looked around when Anthony walked in and smiled. “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” Anthony replied. “What’s all this?”

  “Dinner. I thought we’d have…where is that…Michael character?”

  “He’s out.” Anthony walked into the kitchen. “What are you cooking?”

  “Your favourite. Chicken parmesan.”

  “God, Jason. I didn’t even know you could cook.”

  Jason laughed. “Well, I can. I used to watch Michael all the time. He loved to cook. Dinner will be ready in about a half hour. Will you go downstairs to the wine cellar and choose the wine? White, I think.”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, and Juan called, something about one of his costumes for Saturday night. He got it back from Hilda and he’s complaining about the sequins or something.”

  Anthony grinned. “Back to normal, I see. I’ll go get a bottle from downstairs and call him. Hand me the portable, will you?”

  Jason handed him the phone. “Wait until you see what I made for dessert.”

  Anthony shook his head, patted his stomach, and took the phone. He headed down to the wine cellar and dialed Juan.

  * * * * *

  “So maybe you went too far,” the voice on the other end said to Michael on his cell phone as he put down a ten-dollar bill and pulled his vodka tonic across the bar.

  “Hey, you haven’t seen this guy. It’s kind of hard for me not to think of him as anything but a con artist. Then today he tells me he was a child prostitute.”

  “Damn,” Evan, one of his friends back in New York, replied on the other end.

  “Damn is right. How do I know he didn’t force my father to sign over…”

  “Mike, you don’t know. Maybe you’ll never know, but it’s too late now. You didn’t fare too badly from what you tell me.”

  Michael turned around and leaned against the bar, watching the men parading past. “Yeah, I know, but I’m caught by the balls for two years. Anyway, enough of that talk. You know, I went to a great place for supper tonight. Spent three hours there, eating chicken that you could die for. The ribs were sensational too. I could get used to stuff out here. And this bar I’m in now, it’s called Heaven. There’s a back room that looks like paradise, man. You got to come out here. The men, well, um. Let’s just say the bar was aptly named.”