Italian Dinner

Italian Dinner
Chapter Seven

~*~

The day of the benefit came just like that; of course we at the station were running around like chickens with our heads chopped off because of this new information we received on the case with Cyclops. The coroner had professional help in trying to put a face on our victim, and once we did, we wanted to plaster the guy’s face all over the city, just to see if we could get any hits off of it. But someone at the force pointed out that we should wait until after we’d questioned Stoneworth about his credit card statement, so we left it alone for awhile.

So I wander into work that morning and Swanson immediately hauls me into his office. I thought he was going to congratulate me for finding out that tidbit about Santo Consolata sending Stoneworth out of the country (which was way overdo), but instead he just lectured me.

“So...tonight is the big benefit. You’re still going to that thing, right?” he pointed a fat finger at me and scowled, like I’d lose my job if I gave him the wrong answer.

I nodded. “Yes sir, got my suit all pressed and laid out and ready.”

“Santo Consolata is going to be at this thing, right? You make sure you talk to him at some point, see what you can find out about Stoneworth and these other lawyers. If we can get any idea as to where Stoneworth is, maybe we can haul him in for questioning instead of letting it sit for two weeks.”

I nodded again. “Absolutely sir, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good.” he sounded rather pleased, and then he thought of something else. “One other thing...the press cannot know that the police force is in on this case, whatever it might turn out to be. So use your alibi to the death, or else LAPD will get fucked by the papers.”

“Understood perfectly, sir.” I said, and then I stood up and left his office.

Being there the entire day was pretty pointless; all we had to do was paperwork and I was getting more and more nervous about the benefit. I expected the day to go by really slow – turns out it didn’t. I looked up at one point and saw it was just about lunchtime.

I know I had been sorta dreading going to this thing before but now there was a reason to go to it, but that was what made me nervous. I had to find a way to break away from Julian, catch Santo Consolata on his own and somehow question him as to where the lawyers were.

Henderson came back with lunch; he plopped a chilli-dog on my desk scaring the shit out of me, and then he sat down.

“Well, big night tonight.” he said, as he was halfway through his own chilli-dog. “You nervous?”

I shrugged, taking the chilli-dog in both hands. “Guess so. Nervous, excited, they’re kinda the same thing in a way, right?”

“Hmm...” Henderson made an indignant sound through his mouthful of lunch, and then I took a bite. I sighed; there really wasn’t anything like comfort food when you were feeling nervous.

“What about the twink?” Henderson asked after awhile.

“What about him?”

He shrugged. “Well tonight will have been the unofficial third date, won’t it? My guess is that the kid isn’t gonna want to stick around that place all night.”

I just about choked on my chilli-dog. Holy shit, Henderson was right. I had completely forgotten about that; so not only did I have to find Santo Consolata, get him alone and make him reveal where he sent the lawyers, but I’d have to...erm... “escort” Julian home at the end of the night.

“Aw fuck.” I murmured, putting down my lunch and rubbing my eyes.

“You could always give the kid a story.” Henderson said out of the blue. “Tell him you have AIDS, he won’t wanna sleep with you then.”

“Henderson I’m not gonna tell him I have AIDS.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t!” I snapped. “And I don’t have ass sex with other men, it’s as simple as that!”

I guess I was being pretty loud; some of the other guys that hung around during lunch were staring in my direction.

Henderson put up both his hands, as if I was holding a gun to him. “Look man, I didn’t mean to push any buttons-“

I shook my head. “Nah, it’s fine.” and I stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

I stormed away from my desk, leaving my lunch and my jacket, but I didn’t care. I walked by the guys who were looking at me for my little outburst. I imagine as soon as I got in the elevator they’d start laughing their asses off and making with the gay jokes. Fucking typical.

I was in the elevator and I sighed. Of all nights for me to be faced with having sex with another man, it just had to be this one.

The bell chimed and I got out of the elevator, and I stormed across the lobby to the front door. I heard Karla shout at me through a mouthful of yogurt, sounded like “hey Adrian” but I didn’t stop, and I didn’t go back to the office for the rest of the day.

~*~

I went home after my little pussy tantrum in the office, and I was sitting there all afternoon wondering if I was gonna get a phonecall from Swanson about leaving in the middle of the day. But it never came. I decided that if I was going to get in shit for being made to look like an ass in the office, I’d just tell him I had to leave early for the benefit, put my makeup on and shit like that.

About two o’clock I had a nap on the couch, and my dream was haunted by the images I saw on that piece of gay porn that I downloaded awhile ago, when I first thought I’d be faced with sex with Julian. God you do not want a dream about two overweight hairy bald guys with handlebar mustaches fucking each other in a mock prison cell.

Actually it wasn’t a dream so much as it was a nightmare.

So I woke up and it was quarter to three, and I thought some more about the benefit. I thought about what I could tell Julian if indeed Julian wanted to “head home” and make it an “early night”. But then again what could I tell him? He believed I was a gay marital lawyer, and I had already broken down like a pussy once in front of him when we tried to have sex. Could I get away with doing it again?

What if I told Julian that I really wasn’t gay? Then the whole thing would just be over.

And I couldn’t tell him that I was interested in somebody else, which was always the ploy you used when you wanted to let down some girl who was totally in love with you but you had absolutely no interest in her. But then again if I told Julian that I’d probably never hear from him again, and there’d go my case, and probably my position with LAPD.

Eventually six o’clock rolled around and I had to get up. I showered, and I got dressed, and I stood there with a frown on my face like a fucking sulk.

“Here goes everything.”

~*~

Casa Del Mar was swarming by the time my taxi pulled up. It was like a fucking red carpet affair. All the guests went walking up the red carpet and the press took pictures of them as they did. I groaned, paid the cab fare, and tried to find a way around the red carpet and the press. If someone took a picture of me, and anyone who knew I was in the police force recognized me there, the whole thing would have been blown out in the open. So I had to be stealthy.

I went in behind the cameras and the reporters, and I sidled up next to the doorman, a big guy with a no-nonsense look about him, who was standing in front of the door deciding who would go in and who wouldn’t. He looked at me, saw I was dressed sharply, and raised his eyebrows. “Can I help you sir?”

“Uh yeah...” I said nervously. “I...I think my date’s got my invitation.”

He snickered, as though that was a line he had been hearing all night. He took a clipboard from his buddy standing at the other door and looked at it. “Can I get your name sir?”

“Yes, it’s Adrian Black.”

He took a moment to look over the list, and then at one point he stopped and looked at me with both eyebrows raised. “Okay Mr. Black, tonight you’re at table two. That’s quite a seat you’ve got there. If you’ll just go by my colleague here, he’ll let you in, and Mr. Julian Consolata is already inside.”

I was mortified. “Uh...thank you.”

He smiled. For a moment it looked like he was gonna shake my fucking hand. “Enjoy your evening, Mr. Black.”

I did as he said, walked over to his colleague who opened the door and asked me to enjoy my evening. My heart was in my throat the entire time; did Julian have it written down on a fucking clipboard that he and I were considered an item?

Suddenly I didn’t feel well. I felt as though I was gonna be sick. I waddled into the lobby, which was full of people sipping champagne and laughing. I looked around to see if I could find a bathroom, and luckily there was one just off to the right opposite from the coat check, so I sneaked inside.

I sat in a stall for a good ten minutes, thinking I was gonna be sick but then it turned out I wasn’t. I figured if I was gonna throw up, I’d just be puking up butterflies; cause that’s all it was. Butterflies in my stomach. I was glad they didn’t have one of those guys standing in the bathroom like they do at some of these affairs, the ones that hold the towels for you. That would have been awkward.

I finally unlocked the stall, splashed my face with water and then I straightened myself out. I told myself, “Showtime” and then I left the bathroom.

When I came into the lobby, I was alone for only a moment, trying to decide whether or not I should wait til Julian happened to show up, or if I should just make my way inside and see if I could spot him, and then I heard my name. “Mr. Adrian Black?”

I turned around and came face to face with a young man, probably about my age, with jet black hair and big snowy blue eyes. Funny-looking kid, but I tried to smile as best as I could. I was worried at first that he was someone who had recognized me from the station. But as it turned out:

“I’m Michele Consolata, Julian’s brother.”

A little gasp left my lips, and then I straightened myself out and shook his hand. “Michele, pleasure to meet you at last.”

He took my hand in both of his. “It is I who is pleased to meet you at last, Mr. Black. Julian goes on and on about you, which he’ll immediately deny once we get inside. He’s just having his photo taken so he asked if I’d lead you to our table.”

I nodded and smiled. “That sounds great, lead the way.”

The Casa Del Mar had an incredible ballroom and there were tables stretched from one end to the other. The room was full of stunning people; men in jet black Armani and Yogi suits and tuxedos, women in sparkling gowns and finely tailored suits, all holding drinks and talking very quietly. At one end of the room there was someone playing a harp, and in the front there was a stage and a banner that read in huge letters: WELCOME TO THE CONSOLATA ANNUAL FUND-RAISER.

I kept my eyes peeled for anyone I might recognize, from the force or elsewhere, but this was obviously a community in Los Angeles that I knew nothing about. Snarky rich folks who knew each other from their golf and country clubs and wine tasting parties, and they all huddled in clods around the room.

Michele got stopped a few times on our way to our table. People asked him where his uncle was, where was his brother, and he gave the same answer: they were around here somewhere, and he wasn’t interested in getting close to the cameras. I respected that. So far Michele was the nicest of the Consolata boys, other than Julian of course.

Table two, the table that I was going to be sitting at, was just about the closest one to the stage, and as soon as we got near, I could see Julian. He and Matteo and Christopher were all having their picture taken...with a man who must have been in his 60's, with gray hair and a stern face. He stood in-behind them, and towered over Julian by at least a head. He tried to smile for the cameras but he had an exasperated expression that said: “I’m too damn old for this”.

My jaw dropped open. Santo Consolata.

“Adrian.” I heard Michele say, and I looked over and he was standing next to this incredibly beautiful tall woman. I went over instinctively, staring at her, and Michele smiled and said. “This is my sister, Iniga.”

Iniga Consolata was an extremely sexy woman. She was my age or older, I couldn't quite tell which, and had Matteo's black black hair that she styled in ringlets that fell over her white shoulders. It was obvious that they were twins, you could see how their facial features were so alike, the noses and the shape of the eyes and the thin narrow jaws. Except Iniga was stunning, whereas Matteo was not. Iniga looked like she could seduce you very easily to get what she wanted; Matteo just yelled at you until he got what he wanted. Good twin bad twin I suppose.

She wore this beautiful sleeveless strapless deep red bubble dress covered in sequins, some designer shit most likely, showed off her long thin white legs, which nearly got me shaking, and was holding a white wine spritzer with long, thin white hands. Her fingernails were deep red, glossy, perfect length. When Michele introduced her to me as “Julian’s boyfriend”, her blue eyes lit up and she extended her thin white hand and gave me a gorgeous smile.

Ah, definitely Matteo’s twin. But somehow she had Julian’s smile.

"Adrian, so nice to meet you at last." Iniga said sweetly. She had a slightly husked voice, damn sexy, and I nearly shuddered when she said my name.

“Like wise.” I said, my knees getting weak from her smile.

She looked me up and down very briefly. "It's so nice to see Julian's grabbed one of the attractive gays in town. And I do mean that. His last boyfriend was no fun to look at."

Ah damn, right...I was gay and involved with Julian, therefor I couldn’t get away with a single flirt. I smiled, although I'm sure the apples of my cheeks were going bright red because of her compliment. "Well Julian was probably cute enough for the both of them."

"Hmm, probably." she said after a sip of her drink. "He says you're a marital lawyer, very interesting. You don’t look like the lawyer type.”

I smiled. “I know, I get that all the time. Julian told me you used to be a model...”

She took another sip of her drink and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, used to be.”

Michele, who had been standing quietly beside us, tapped me on the shoulder. “Adrian what would you like to drink?”

“Oh...um...just a glass of red wine please.” and Michele disappeared into the crowd before I could even say thank you.

That left me and Iniga alone, so I tried to think of convincing gay chat. Maybe I should have done a little more research...watched ‘Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’ or something. Finally I cleared my throat and said. “Well I must say, you’ve got quite the incredible figure.” not flirting, trying to be gay. “What were you modeling for, Chanel?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Oh lord no, not in this city. A woman my age can’t get away with a photo for that company. I did some modeling for Vogue for awhile, just things in and around the city.”

All of a sudden we were interrupted by another woman, this one with fiery red hair who was wearing this long black dress and had a glass of what looked like whiskey in her hand. She was okay-looking, but next to Iniga there was no comparison. “Iniga, you’re a woman, tell me the truth. Matteo says these shoes are clunky, they don’t look clunky to you, do they?”

Iniga looked down at them. Me, having absolutely no interest in shoes, did not.

“Are they Dolce’s?” Iniga asked after awhile of examining the redhead’s feet.

“Yeah, this season too.” the redhead sighed angrily. “Matteo says they make my feet look fat. Asked if I was pregnant.”

Iniga shrugged, and then she looked at me. “Adrian, what do you think? Do you think these shoes are clunky?”

I looked down at the redhead’s shoes. They were...shoes, who the hell cared whether they were clunky or not. I looked back up, noticing both Iniga and the redhead were looking at me quite expectantly, and I shook my head. “They look lovely, fairly narrow. At least to me they do.”

The redhead looked at me as though she recognized me from somewhere. Or maybe someone had pointed out to her who I was and she was struggling to remember my name. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Iniga finished a sip of her drink and she said. “Sorry Angie, this is Adrian Black.”

At the sound of my name, the redhead’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Julian’s new boyfriend.”

I smiled and nodded. She extended her hand. She had a rock the size of a grape on her left hand, I’m not fucking kidding. “I’m Angela Consolata, Matteo’s wife.”

I shook her hand, surprised that Matteo Consolata was married to someone who was fairly decent-looking and rather pleasant. I almost wanted to ask her how it was they ended up together, but then I figured that would not make for pleasant first-impressions, so instead I took the safe route. “Oh, how was your trip to Palermo?”

She rolled her eyes. She had big gray eyes, strange to see gray eyes with red hair. “Don’t even get me started on that. Matteo’s idea of an apology is a trip to Italy that costs well over $4000 and bickering half the time we’re there.”

“Well honey at least he takes you on trips.” Iniga pointed out, and took another sip of her drink.

At that point it seemed as though the press had had enough of the Consolata boys, so within a moment I was talking to Angela and Iniga and the next Julian was right beside me.

“Hey, you found your way in.” he said, and wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed me on the lips. I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of a room of people who thought I was gay, so I kissed him back, wound my arms around his waist and brought him closer. I could feel at least three pairs of eyes on me but I tried to ignore it.

When the kiss ended, Julian was beaming. Obviously the kid was damn glad I was there.

“I was just telling Adrian that finally you nabbed one of the good-looking gays in town.” Iniga told her little brother.

Julian just smiled and cuddled in to my side. “I know, isn’t he gorgeous?”

I felt my face go red. The two women just grinned at me, so I guess I was in the clear.

Matteo Consolata sidled up next to Angela. “Good god, I hate fucking cameras.” he said, and then took a sip of the drink she was holding without asking if he could. She didn’t stop him.

I studied Matteo. It had been awhile since I last saw him in Julian’s office – the day that I had first met Julian, really. He looked like a mean son-of-a-bitch then and he still looked like a mean son-of-a-bitch now. Again, the aura of power and fierce determination shrouded him. And yet here in a big room full of people and in front of his wife, he didn’t seem as intimidating.

Angela looked at him with one finely trimmed red eyebrow arched. “Why, did they ask you to sing and dance?

He rolled his eyes. “You know how pilots in airplanes sound like morons when they do the announcements? It’s because they didn’t go to aviator school to be public speakers, kinda the same way businessmen don’t go to school to be comedians.”

I smirked. Angela, however, was not amused. I imagined she had to put up with that sarcasm a lot.

After I smirked, which was fairly out loud even though I tried to keep it quiet, Matteo looked directly at me, took a moment and then he nodded. “Ah, the marital lawyer. Mr...Blake, was it?”

I put my hand out to shake his. “Black, Adrian Black.” I said, before anyone could correct him. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Consolata.”

He shook my hand firmly, eyeing me as though there was something about me he really didn’t like but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. I just smiled, because I knew Julian was looking at me, and I knew that Angela and Iniga were looking at me. And I had to be friends with these people if I wanted to get close to their uncle.

“Matteo where did Christopher go?” Iniga asked as she scanned the ballroom.

Angela answered her. “Jessica was having some sort of crisis, I saw her headed towards the bathroom and I imagine he followed her after he was done with the cameras. Did you see that dress that she’s wearing?”

Iniga rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, I know. I saw her and I thought ‘Jessica you’re the only woman in the world I know that doesn’t want to be showing, and yet you’re wearing a dress that looks like you’re carrying sextuplets’.”

Angela and Iniga laughed together. I smiled; I quite liked how they talked, a lot like sisters. Matteo was already talking to someone else.

Julian looked up at me and smiled. “Should we go get a drink?”

“Uhh...” I had totally forgotten that Michele had gone off to get me a drink, but that was at least seven minutes ago, and I quickly scanned the ballroom and couldn’t see him anywhere. So I nodded. “Yeah, why don’t we.”

Now I’m not just saying this because I was Julian’s date, but Julian was the fucking belle of this ball. I say that because everyone that we passed – and I do mean everyone – on the way to the bar stopped Julian and said hello, and asked how he was and how work was, and he always smiled sweetly and asked his own questions, and then they see me and ask who I was and Julian did not hesitate in introducing me as “his date”, and they just smiled and asked me what I did and what not. And then we moved on, and it was the same thing all over again within a minute.

People loved Julian; it was kinda hard not to, he was charismatic and extremely approachable, quite unlike Matteo and even unlike Michele and Christopher, and he always seemed extremely pleased to see you. It was hard to find people like that, especially businessmen, and I noticed that a lot of people who stopped him for a chat were co-workers of his.

Finally we got to the bar. I asked for a beer, because at this point I was feeling fairly comfortable, and Julian asked for gin and tonic, and we decided just to chill at the bar because it was quieter, and we could finally have a chance to talk.

“You look so great.” Julian said after awhile, and reached over to straighten out my tie. I looked down at it, and at my French blue shirt because I had been worried it looked a little too casual. “Have you noticed that literally every woman in this room has been staring at you all night?”

I took a sip of my beer and shook my head. “I find that unlikely...it’s probably just because I’m with you. ‘What’s that thing hanging off of that gorgeous Julian Consolata’?”

Julian laughed and he took a sip of his drink and I stared at him. Strange how he was so different in appearance from his brothers and his sister. The three of them could have been triplets, with the same hair colour and same eye colour, and pretty much the same features. Julian had wheat-coloured hair and brown eyes...where had those genes come from?

After a few moments of quiet I nodded. “I like your siblings. They’re quite interesting.”

Julian shrugged. “Yeah, we had some interesting times growing up together.” and then he sighed. “Now...”

I took another sip of my beer. I remembered how Julian had told me that they all lived together in the same mansion, which I thought was crazy. Sure that mansion was big enough for...what, six people, but still if I had to live in the same house with my brother and my parents until I was Julian’s age, I would have gone insane.

I looked up at one point and Julian was smiling at me brilliantly. “I’m so glad that you came.”

I smiled back at him. “I’m glad I came too.”

And as it turns out, I was telling the truth.

~*~

Five minutes later they were getting ready to serve dinner so we went back to our table. I was hoping that Santo Consolata would be sitting at our table, but he was sitting at table one, which made sense to me. Matteo and Angela sat at that table too, and after awhile I saw Christopher Consolata sit down with a woman who I presumed was his wife. I didn’t get a very good look at her because a waiter came by and asked me what I’d like to drink, the red wine or the white wine, and I asked for the red.

Michele apologized profusely for forgetting about my drink. He explained that he had seen Christopher’s wife run outside and he went to ask her what was the matter. Turned out Christopher had made some crack about her dress and she was on the verge of a meltdown.

“Is she finally telling people that she’s pregnant?” Iniga asked her brother after he was finished explaining.

Michele shrugged. “I don’t know, I didn’t ask her. Dress like that though I imagine she wants people to know.”

Iniga shrugged. “I don’t know why she’d want to keep it such a secret, they’ve been married for four years, it’s about time they had a baby. If you go five years, people start talking.”

I realized there was a seat next to Iniga that was empty, and being kept empty by Iniga’s red handbag. “Are we expecting another person?”

Iniga nodded. “Yes, that would be my very late and my very dead date William, he’s like this every time I invite him to one of these things.”

“Oh.” I said, and a little surge of disappointment went through me. “What does he do?”

She finished taking a sip of her drink. “He owns the BMW dealership in the hills...why do I always forget the name of that damn place...anyway whenever I have invite him to one of these functions, he always says he’ll take the day off and then he comes stumbling in half an hour late.”

I nodded, and then our dinner was served. Very lovely lambchop in a special sauce with wasabi whipped potatoes and this great spinach salad served with pieces of grapefruit and black truffles. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate so well, and the wine to wash everything down with was just perfect. And then they served dessert, an incredible four-layered triple chocolate cake that just melted in your mouth, and espresso.

After dinner was served there were a number of speeches made. Christopher got up first, since he was hosting the thing, and went on and on about how the Consolata Corporation started and how they so adored their clients and spoke about stretching the business into other cities in the state. Unfortunately Christopher wasn’t a very interesting speaker; halfway through his speech this guy –who I guessed to be Iniga’s date – sat down next to her and they got into a bickering snit, under their breaths of course, but it was far more interesting than Christopher’s speech.

Then, after Christopher, he introduced his uncle and the president of the company Santo Consolata, and the gentleman that I had seen before, having his picture taken with Julian, stood up and humbly thanked everyone for coming.

He had one of those thick Italian accents, mixed with another nationality but I couldn’t quite tell what it was. He announced that the Consolata Corporation Fundraiser that year had raised over two million dollars, and were gladly donating half of it to the Children’s Cancer Fund in honour of the kid of their first client. Fairly sentimental, I thought. He made a short, interesting speech but I wasn’t really paying attention. I stared at him, thinking; this is the Consolata godfather. This man here. This man could be responsible for so much, and yet he just looks like a kindly grandfather and a proud entrepreneur. Course a lot of the time these guys do, don’t they.

Once the speeches were done and over with, they opened the dance floor. The party was really just beginning. Now that the sum of what they had raised was revealed, the Consolata boys were dragged off again for photos and questions. I stayed at the table, watching Julian walk off to get his picture taken.

At that point Angela came over and sat down in Michele’s seat – that was when I noticed that Michele too had disappeared.

“So did you hear what Christopher said about Jessica’s dress?” Angela asked with a snicker, and then she nodded to the man sitting on Iniga’s right. “Hey William.”

“What did he say?” Iniga asked, leaning over, eager for the gossip.

“He told her that the dress made her look like she’d stuck two oranges down it. Course she thought he was talking about the girls, you know how the girls get engorged when you’re pregnant? Anyway she says something like ‘don’t you like them this big’ and he says, ‘I wasn’t talking about your chest’ and she just totally flipped out!”

Iniga let out this long laugh. “Oh my god he is such a jackass.”

“Yeah, he and Matteo should go to jackass class together.”

The guy, Iniga’s date William, rolled his eyes, and he looked at me across the table and said. “Let’s head to the bar.” So we excused ourselves, but the girls were still chattering like gossipy school girls, so we just got up and went.

By then the ballroom was really jumping. People were drinking and laughing and talking and dancing. We got to the bar and ordered two beers, and this guy stretches out his hand. “I’m William City, by the way.”

I laughed, realizing that we hadn’t been properly introduced because he had had his head bitten off when he sat down for dinner. “I’m Adrian Black. Good to meet you.”

“And you.” William said, taking a swig of his beer. “Iniga told me that you’re Julian’s boyfriend, right?”

I nodded, trying not to be aggravated but I kinda was. For someone as quiet as Julian, he sure liked to talk. “Yeah, we’re sorta getting to that stage.”

He nodded. “Well it’s nice to see that he’s picked up one of the normal ones.” William took another swig of his beer and I just stared at him, because I didn’t know what he meant. Then he nodded again, as if he discovered he’d missed the loop. “Normal guy, I mean. I met Julian’s ex-boyfriend a few times, real piece of work.”

“Oh...” I said, nodding, and then I wondered if he meant the chef that had gone missing after making the death threats to Julian and the other Consolatas. “Which...boyfriend was that?”

“The cook...I think his name was Kyle. You haven’t heard of him?”

I shook my head. “I actually just moved here about four months ago.”

“Ohh.” William nodded, as though that explained absolutely everything. “Yeah...bad news that guy.”

I wanted to inquire further, make it look like I was the concerned boyfriend, but then William was already launching into something else. “So you’re a marital lawyer, huh?”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

“I always wanted to go into law, always did, but I had a problem with logic and consistency.” William took his beer bottle in hand and took another swig.

I nodded. “Yes, that will keep you down if you try pursuing law. Especially in law, really. Sorry, what business are you in?”

“I own City BMW in the hills.”

“Oh right...sorry, Iniga told me and I completely forgot.”

He shrugged and we both took swigs of our beers. I looked over my shoulder towards the stage; the Consolatas were still having their pictures taken, and Santo Consolata was talking to someone who was obviously with the press, she had one of those name tags. I wondered how I could get this guy alone, find out what I needed for Swanson. Maybe if I told Julian I wanted to meet his uncle, I could just go in from there.

“So you and Julian are quite the item, huh?” William asked suddenly, breaking the silence between us.

I shrugged. “Well...I’d like it if we could be.” Total lie, but I was good at lying.

William smiled then, and it was a weird smile, and I didn’t know why he was doing it. But then he nodded to something over my shoulder. “I don’t want to alarm you, but you’re got some pretty heavy competition.”

I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Again he nodded to look over my shoulder. “Take a look.”

I swivelled around in my bar stool to see what he was talking about, and I was rather taken aback. The photos were all done, and there’s Julian standing by the stage with this other guy practically falling on him. I scowled, because Julian was obviously uncomfortable, and this guy was too close for even my liking.

“That’s Daniel Pyttlik.” William told me. “His father owns that big cement factory up by LAX. He’s had his eye on Julian for a long time, ever since Kyle disappeared. Julian’s never seemed that interested in him though.”

I nodded, staring at the two of them for a moment. I didn’t like this, Julian was looking too uncomfortable, and the way that William so blatantly pointed this out made me think that this was something I had to put a stop to.

I put my beer up on the bar and nodded to William. “Excuse me a minute, will you William?”

William smirked as though he were expecting a fight to break out. “Yeah, go get em.”

~*~

I made my way through the crowd, close enough to see Julian’s expression; it wasn’t quite worry but I could tell he wasn’t thrilled about this guy, this Daniel Pyttlik hanging all over him. The guy was my height, my build, with a weird curly brown hair thing going on. I tried to get in close enough to hear what they were saying without being totally discovered yet.

Luckily this guy, this Daniel Pyttlik, wasn’t much for discretion. “So I had this crazy idea, tell me if you think this is crazy...my sister is having her baby in Sicily so I have her cabin for four weeks down in Santa Barbara.”

I scowled. Ohh no, I didn’t come this far for some rich trouser-stain to move in on Julian. Fluently I walked right up to Julian and stood at his side.

“Julian can we go now? That woman bartender nearly pulled her dress off when I gave her a tip, I couldn’t tell if she was drunk or just really horny.”

I even threw in the slightest lisp. Julian looked up at me as though I had some sort of very large beetle crawling out of my ears, and this guy, this Daniel Pyttlik, backed right up at get a good look at me, and I got a good look at him. Very odd looking, the squarest jaw I’d ever seen, and when he frowned he looked like a little kid. Make that spoiled rotten rich trouser stain.

“Uh...Adrian this is Daniel Pyttlik, old friend of the family.” Julian was obviously caught totally off guard and was trying to seem as though he wasn’t. “Daniel, this is Adrian Black.”

I extended my hand and gave the guy a very big smile. “Charmed.”

The guy shook my hand, but it was obvious he didn’t like the look of me one bit. “Nice to meet you.”

I hooked my other arm in Julian’s and brought him a little closer. Daniel Pyttlik’s eyes widened. “Julian I hate to sound like a prick but I already see your family more than I should before marriage, if you know what I mean.”

I could tell Julian was trying his hardest to keep from laughing. “Uh...well why don’t we get the car then?”

“Sounds good.” I concurred.

Julian smiled at me as though to say, ‘you’re my hero’, and he hugged to my side and turned to Daniel, who just looked offended. “It was nice talking to you Daniel. Let’s get lunch sometime.”

I gave the prick a faggy little wave of my hand. “Good to meet you.”

~*~

We went into the mens bathroom and as soon as we were in there, Julian started laughing his ass off, so much that he pulled his arm from mine and leaned against the counter. I smiled, glad that he saw my rudeness to complete strangers as humorous.

“Oh my god I’ve never seen Daniel Pyttlik so speechless!” Julian said as he wiped a tear away.

I crossed my arms. “Yeah well that asshole shouldn’t have been leering at you like that.”

Julian gave a simple little shrug of his shoulders. “He’s harmless.”

I shook my head. “Didn’t seem like it to me.”

Julian looked up at me and just smiled sweetly. His eyes were sparkling with unshed tears of laughter. I stared at him, noticing that he was inching closer to me, and slid his arms around my waist. “You came to my rescue.”

I smiled down at him. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Julian’s smile slowly disappeared, and he bit down on his lower lip. Here it comes, I thought.

“Do you wanna get outta here?”

~*~

Next chapter: A lemon...or will there be a lemon? You’ll have to read and see.