My Father's Lover Page 7

  “No,” Anthony said. “I don’t believe it does. They were meant for each other.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever…I don’t know, find that kind of thing? Do you want to?”

  Anthony thought for a moment. “If it happens, it happens. It might be nice.” He paused when Michael didn’t reply. “Go wash your face, and come back out when you’re ready, okay?”

  “Okay,” Michael said, watching Anthony as he walked out of the room. He sighed. What was past was past. He couldn’t change it. His father was gone, and suddenly for the first time in his life, he deeply regretted that.

  * * * * *

  Jason pulled Anthony aside later as he walked by the bar. “I saw you talking with Lou Monetti over there, the one in the blue suit. Do you realise that he’s a mobster?”

  “It’s a rumour,” Anthony said, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Don’t go repeating that.”

  “You looked chummy with him.”

  “Jason, he’s been coming in here for years. Now, you have a customer at the bar. Why don’t you serve him?”

  “I know what you were talking about with him. There’s always a price. What makes you think he could find Michael’s killers?”

  “Jason,” Anthony said impatiently, between clenched teeth, “serve the goddamned client.”

  Anthony glanced around as Jason went to mix a drink for the customer. Lou Monetti raised a hand to him as he got up to leave. Anthony nodded at him. Everyone knew that Lou was connected to the mob, but Lou never brought the business to Impressions. In fact, the family wouldn’t have approved of Lou frequenting this kind of club, or of the fact that Lou was gay. He had been coming here for years. Michael and Daniel had always treated him with respect, and Lou had done the same. He had valued their discretion, and had been fond of Michael’s performances. He had a lot of connections, and right now Anthony was finding that very useful.

  Michael came back out then. He stood near the door, greeting people as they came in. Anthony knew he’d been crying in the back room. He knew that there was a lot going on beneath the surface, and some regret. He didn’t have to like the guy, but he was Michael’s flesh and blood. It was hard to forget that, given how much he resembled his father. He had no choice but to have some momentary compassion for him.

  When the club closed for the night, Anthony declared it a success, but he was happy to see the end. The staff went home without much fanfare. Anthony stood out in the back with the security guard watching as everyone got safely into their cars, while Michael took care of the safe in the office.

  Finally, Anthony, Jason, and Michael locked up everything and headed to the parking lot.

  “Do you want to go home with me, or Jason?” Anthony asked Michael.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Michael said. “God, I need a car. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about that okay?”

  Anthony shrugged. “Sure.”

  Michael crawled in with him, as Jason was already in his car and ready to take off.

  “Guess I’m going with you.” Michael smirked.

  “The lesser of two evils?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Michael replied, which caused Anthony to throw back his head and laugh.

  * * * * *

  When Anthony got up the following day, Michael was sitting downstairs in the family room. Anthony was going to offer him some coffee when he heard his own voice echoing off the television. He walked in to see that Michael had put in an old videotape which had been filmed on his fifteenth birthday. He was sitting in front of a huge birthday cake with Daniel standing over him, urging him to blow out his candles. Michael was shooting the film, and he could hear him say, “Anthony, will you look up into the camera…smile…smile.”

  It was a shock suddenly to see himself back there, to hear Michael’s voice again as if he was right there in the room with him. He tore his gaze away from the scene…from the only family he’d ever had, and noticed the array of tapes strewed across the carpet. Michael seemed engrossed, huddled on the sofa with his feet tucked under him. He was so fixated on the scene; he didn’t even hear Anthony when he said, “What are you doing?”

  When Michael didn’t answer, Anthony said it again, this time coming to stand in front of the television. “What in hell are you doing?”

  Michael looked up suddenly. “I’m…ah…watching some movies of…”

  Anthony reached over and hastily switched off the set. “I never said you could…” The anger seemed to bubble up inside of him. “Those are private and…”

  “My life…” Michael stood up. “…my life you stole from me.”

  “I didn’t steal anything from you. You threw it away!”

  “He was my father, goddamn it, not yours, and yet you think I don’t have a right…”

  “Yes, fuck, you’re right, he was your father, but you were never his son!”

  Michael opened his mouth, then, closed it.

  “You wouldn’t have even have come to his funeral if it hadn’t been for the money. Don’t you think your father knew that? He knew exactly what would bring you here! Don’t give me this lament shit now!” Anthony turned away from him. It was too painful to look at him. He looked so damn much like his father, and all he could see was Michael’s battered face suddenly, and blood. All that blood.

  “I just wanted to…”

  “Do what you want,” Anthony continued. “This is your house now, more than mine.” He left the room, because if he hadn’t, he might have broken something. He left the house on foot, thinking a walk would calm him. It didn’t help much. Finally, after the emotion passed, he began to think more clearly. He was trying to figure out what it was about Michael that angered him the most? Was it all those years he rejected his father’s love? Was it the fact that he knew it was only the money which drew him here, and not any genuine feeling for his father? Maybe it was because every time he looked at him, he saw his father…and he saw him lying broken on the ground, covered in his own blood. He had to find a way to heal, but he knew he couldn’t do that until he found the ones who had murdered Michael.

  * * * * *

  When he got back home, Michael was sitting on the stoop. He got up as Anthony walked up the path. Anthony put up a hand. “I don’t want to fight any more.”

  “I want to say that…” Michael began. “I don’t want to fight any more either. Just, can’t you believe that maybe I’m realising that I was wrong, that I missed out on…?” A tear rolled down his cheek. “You don’t believe me.”

  “Just like you don’t believe that I was anything but a sex toy for two dirty queens.” It was harsh. After the words came out of his mouth, they hung in the air awhile.

  “I know you loved them,” he said. “They loved you too. Maybe I was wrong to…”

  “You’ve been wrong about a lot of things, Michael. And just like I have to deal with the memory of seeing your father dying on the pavement, you have to deal with your regret.”

  He went to walk past him, but Michael put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me, tell me about that night. I want to know.”

  “I…not now,” he said, and continued on into the house.

  Chapter Five

  Anthony didn’t have much to say to him in the following few weeks. They went to work, and came home, and went their separate ways. Every chance that Michael got, he watched the home movies his father had made. It made him feel close to him, but it also accentuated his regret.

  Managing the club wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He enjoyed the business aspect of it, and all the money that rolled in every night. The staff were all polite with him, but none were overly friendly, especially Juan and Jason. Juan mostly went to Anthony whenever he needed anything, and Jason ignored him completely, which was why he was so shocked when Jason dragged him into the storeroom one night at the club, saying he needed to talk to him.

  “About what?” Michael asked.

  “Haven’t you noticed Anthony’s conversations with that mobster?”

  �
��We’re not supposed to call him that. It’s Mr. Monetti to you.”

  “He’s a closet queen, trying to get into Anthony’s pants.”

  “Half the men in here want to get into Anthony’s pants, so what?”

  Jason made a face. “He’s dangerous. Anthony’s trying to find those bastards who killed your father and…”

  Michael froze. “But the police…?”

  “…won’t do anything unless those freaks are served up on a silver platter. Do you know how many times gay bashings take place in this city? Anthony could get hurt. He won’t…”

  “You don’t have to tell me about gay bashings. I am a gay man.”

  Jason made a little sound in his throat. “Barely.”

  Michael sighed. “What am I supposed to do about it? He hardly talks to me. He won’t listen to…”

  “Michael was your father. Maybe if you say you don’t want him to…”

  Michael put up a hand. “I’ll see what I can do, but I have no influence over Anthony, Jason.” He was about to leave when Jason reached out and grabbed him again.

  Michael looked at him. “What?”

  “Just to let you know, Anthony will come around, but it will be to me, not you. It’s been a long time coming.”

  “Look, Jason, you have no…” Michael began, only to be interrupted by Jason.

  “First it was your father in his bed, now you think it will be…”

  “My father? Anthony slept with my father? He told me that he didn’t…”

  Jason went to say something else just as Anthony walked in. “Jason, you’re needed at the bar.” He glanced from one to another. “What’s going on in here?”

  Jason shrugged. “Nothing, nothing at all. I’m off,” he said, squeezing past Michael, and leaving him standing there in the middle of liquor cases, glaring at Anthony.

  “What’s wrong now?”

  “You, you’re what’s wrong. You lied to me.”

  “About?” Anthony came closer.

  “You slept with my father.”

  Anthony sighed deeply, then, swore under his breath. “Jason has a big mouth. And it wasn’t what you think.”

  “Then, what was it exactly?”

  “Grief.”

  “Well, then maybe you should be fucking me as well.” He met Anthony’s gaze. When Anthony didn’t comment, he added, “Now, I understand everything.”

  “Oh, we’re back to that, are we?” Anthony bit back bitterly. “Well, you know what, you’re right. I fucked your father, and at the same time I had his will in my hand asking him to sign his name right before I… Ever try fucking and writing at the same time?”

  “Fuck you, Anthony!”

  “It doesn’t matter how I explain this, does it? You’re going to believe what you want to. Personally, I really don’t care any more what you believe.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth then? Why didn’t you just say from the onset that you and my father were lovers, instead of giving me this bullshit about family?”

  “Because, Jesus Christ, it was none of your business, and secondly, your father and I were not lovers! It was one night, and it wasn’t what…”

  “He was my father,” Michael said bitterly.

  “So? That doesn’t mean you now have a right to know about every man he’d ever fucked. You didn’t even know Daniel was dead. You thought I was your father’s lover when you first arrived.”

  Michael felt himself tremble. “Yes, and it looks like I wasn’t far off the money on that one.”

  Anthony shook his dark head. “You won’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “Why should I explain? It’s none of your business.”

  “Was it more than once?”

  “Don’t you listen? No, it wasn’t more than once, and I have no intention of giving you the details.”

  “Was my father in love with you?”

  “No. He was in love with Daniel, and he never loved anyone else but Daniel, even after Daniel died.”

  “And what about you? Were you in love with him?”

  Anthony closed his eyes.

  “Anthony? Were you in love with my father?”

  “I might have been, in a way…it’s…” He cleared his throat. He looked toward the door. “I need to go back out there.”

  Michael let him go. He was too shocked to try and stop him. Anthony and his father, both in pain at losing someone they loved, coming together to ease that pain. Somehow he understood that, even if looking at Anthony felt a little strange all of a sudden.

  The rest of the evening, Michael watched Anthony as he spent time in quiet conversation with that guy Jason referred to as “the mobster.” He did look dangerous.

  When the club was locked up, Michael walked out into the parking lot with Anthony. He stopped for a minute, glancing over to the place where he knew his father had been beaten. “Was he conscious when you found him?” He hadn’t even realised that he’d said the words aloud. It wasn’t the first night he’d stopped to stare over at that place.

  Anthony turned to him. He swallowed. “Yes, for a few minutes.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “He said my name.”

  Something caught in Michael’s throat. “Did you see the ones who had…?”

  “I saw them running away, in the distance. They ran when they heard me coming.”

  Michael breathed some air into his lungs. “That guy in the club, does he know anything?”

  Anthony didn’t answer.

  “Anthony, tell me.”

  “Yes.”

  “What? What does he know?”

  “He knows one of them…”

  “Where is he?”

  “In juvenile lock up. He’s only sixteen.”

  “Jesus. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to see him.”

  Michael reached out and touched his arm. “I’m going with you.”

  “No,” Anthony said, moving toward the car.

  “Anthony, let me do this. I have to…” He stopped. “Please.”

  Anthony turned and looked at him. “Get in, let’s go home.”

  Anthony clenched the steeling wheel on the way home. He could feel the tension corded in his neck. He needed a drink. He needed hot sex in a dark room with a stranger who he’d never have to see again. He needed Michael to really see him, to really see how things had been, to understand. Why in the hell did it matter? What did he care what Michael thought? Everyone else knew the truth. Goddamn that Jason. He had to go and tell Michael about that night. It looked like he had told Sandy as well. He must have heard them, must have had his eye to the keyhole.

  “What are you thinking about?” Michael asked him suddenly.

  “Fuck all,” he said.

  “I don’t believe you. You just went through that red light back there.”

  “Shit,” he said under his breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did. You didn’t hear me. Anthony, I need some money to buy a car. Remember we…?”

  “Yes. Okay, tomorrow, I’ll get you the money.”

  “Thanks. Look, I understand that grief can do things to people.”

  Anthony glanced at him, then back at the road.

  “I can imagine my father…falling for you. It wouldn’t be hard.”

  Anthony’s eyes widened a little. “Your father loved me, but not in that way.”

  “But that night, he must have…desired you, wanted you.”

  “I think it might have been anyone that night. He just needed…”

  “I think he needed you, because you were…you were Daniel’s son.”

  Anthony did look at him this time. “You…I thought you said…”

  “I have been watching the tapes my father and Daniel shot. I see you in there, I see the way Daniel looks at you, and my dad too. They looked at you all proud and…like parents would look at their child.”

  Tears filled Anthony’s eyes, but he held them back.


  “How was it…after you and my dad…you know…?”

  “Your father regretted it, I think. He felt guilty about it, like…” Anthony sighed. “I tried to let him know it was okay but…”

  “Things weren’t the same?”

  Anthony shook his head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. He had nothing to be ashamed of. We were both grown men, and…”

  “Maybe he --” Michael reached out and touched Anthony’s arm. “-- maybe he felt more than he should have. Maybe he felt ashamed because of Daniel.”

  Anthony nodded silently. He took his foot off the brake and drove through the intersection. As they pulled into the driveway, Michael said, “Please, don’t try to find the ones who killed my father on your own. I realise that I…” He choked a little, then, turned his head away to look out the side window.

  “Go on,” Anthony said.

  “I realise that I missed so much, and the only way,” Michael said, turning to Anthony now, tears on his cheek, “the only way I have of knowing my father is through you, and through those tapes he left. I look at you and I resent you, but it’s not your fault…I just want you to understand that I…”

  Anthony reached over and touched his hair. “It’s okay. Don’t. We all live with…”

  Michael looked at him, then suddenly leaned forward and pressed his mouth against his.

  It took Anthony by surprise. He froze, and Michael immediately backed away. “I’m sorry,” he said hastily. “I don’t know why in hell I did that.” He groped for the door handle and scrambled out of the car, leaving Anthony sitting there in the driver’s seat more than a little stunned.

  It was Jason who shook him out of his paralysed state by knocking on his closed window. Anthony opened the door and stepped out as Jason moved away from the car. Anthony glared at him, not giving him time to say anything. “Why did you have to tell Michael that I slept with his father?”

  Jason folded his arms across his chest. The cool wind blew his hair around his face as the silver moon shone down on both of them in the still driveway. “It came out, that’s all.”

  “You told Sandy too. What are you, fucking CNN?”

  “Why is it a secret?”