First You Fall: A Kevin Connor Mystery (22 page)

I felt my frozen heart thawing faster than the polar icecaps in an A1 Gore movie.

Oh Lord, was I smitten.

I looked down at my feet. Yep, they were stil on the ground.

But it didn’t feel that way, did it?

I felt like shouting, dancing, and running down the street naked after him. I felt like singing “Don’t Let the Parade Pass Me By” from the back of a steamer ship.

Tony fucking Rinaldi!

I was trying to play it cool. To keep my feelings and expectations low. But now that I had lain in his arms again, now that I thought we might real y have the chance to get back together, I had to admit it:
Damn,
I loved that boy!

A knock at the door.

He was back!

I was just about to open the door when I realized the knock was coming from inside the apartment.

From my mother’s room.

My
room, damn it!

“Is it safe to come out?” she asked.

“One minute!” I yel ed. I kicked my underwear into the closet, hid the lube, and threw a towel around my waist. “OK.”

My mother came out in a red velour robe with matching slippers and a turban. Cleopatra of Long Island. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” she said.

“He was just leaving.”

“Naked?”

“Wel , he was getting ready to leave.”

My mother made her way into the kitchen. “I need some tea. I am tel ing you, you could use Hannah Rosenberg’s bean dip for cement.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. Al I could think was: Tony Rinaldi!

“And her cookies! They could deflect bul ets!”

“Yeah.” His hair was even softer than I remembered. It felt like strands of silk when his head traveled down my bel y.

“So, you’re real y crazy about him, no?”

“Hmmm, interesting.” His biceps were like coiled steel covered with rubber and when he came he made the most sensual…

My mother walked over to me and yanked my hair.

“Ow! What’d you do that for?” I said, rubbing my head.

“You haven’t been listening to a word I said.” Had she been talking? “That’s no reason to make me bald.”

“You think I didn’t see that same look in your eyes whenever Tony came around the house? From the time you were eleven, twelve years old? I should have told you that you were gay then and saved you the soul-searching.”

She took my face in her hands. “Baby. That kind of love, it’s not always a good thing, you know? We al think, ‘wow, love.’” She widened her eyes comical y.

“The movies tel us love is such a great thing that we can’t have too much. But you know what? You can. You real y can love someone too much. That kind of love can kil you, you know?”

I nodded.

“I saw what you went through the first time with Tony. Flow you suffered. Oh, I saw it al . You think a mother doesn’t know?”

She put her hand on her heart. “A mother
knows
, Kevin. Whatever pain you’ve felt in your life, I’ve felt double-triple.

“I don’t want to see you hurt that way again.” That makes two of us, I thought. “I know, Mom. I’l be careful.”

“You’l be a lot of things,” my mother said, “but you won’t be careful.

“You see, I know you think I’m a crazy lady. But why do you think I’m here? Because I love that old man I’ve been married to for forty years so much that I refuse—refuse!—to share him with anyone else.

“When he wooed me—oy, he was the most romantic man I’d ever known. At night, after my parents had gone to bed, he’d throw pebbles at the window to wake me. Then he’d sing to me, love songs, and I’d yel down ‘shhh!’ but he wouldn’t listen.

Final y, we’d see the lights go on in my parents’

room, and he’d run away, and I’d be standing there by the open window thinking I wished I could just go down and run off with him.

“I know what it is to love too much, Kevin. I’ve been careful with my money and careful with my children, but I’ve never been careful with my heart.

“Not even once.

“And I think, maybe in that way, you’re a little more like your mother than you know.”

I don’t think that I’ve ever heard my mother talk so honestly. If I weren’t so fucking happy at that moment, it might even have sunk in. But as it was, her words fel on me like rain on hot pavement, there for just a moment before evaporating into the air.

I kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for caring, Mom. I love you. But I have to go. Freddy’s waiting for me.”

“There’s another one waiting?” she asked.

“You know Freddy,” I said. “We’ve been friends forever. There’s nothing between us.” Wel , nothing worth mentioning, I added to myself.

“Whatever. Just mark my words—don’t let that Tony Rinaldi break your heart. Although,” she added mischievously, “he does have a great tush.”
CHAPTER 17

A Surprising Discovery at the Sex Club
I TOOK A
quick shower, threw on my cutest underwear (black N2N square cut with a generous pouch), cargo shorts, a white tank top, and high-top sneakers and grabbed a cab to a nondescript building in the meat packing district by Greenwich Vil age. The building had no sign but those-in-the-know knew it as Sexbar. I was twenty minutes late.

I was stil so strung out on Tony-loving that I felt I could have flown there. Which was probably why I was singing “Oh My Man I Love Him So” to myself the whole cab ride down there and why I tipped the driver ten dol ars.

“Hel o!” Freddy cried as I got out of the car. “Tardy much?” He hoisted his bag of flyers and condoms over his shoulder and walked towards me. “You know how many men have missed out on some quality AIDS education while you were off doing who knows what?”

“Sorry,” I said, trying to keep the sil y smile off my face.

“Aw, don’t worry about it.” Freddy waved his hand.

“This place won’t get busy til about midnight anyway.”

“I wore cute underwear.”

“Thattaboy,” Freddy winked and gave me thumbs up.

Then he cocked his head and squinted his eyes.

“Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Let’s go in.”

He put a hand on my chest. “No, wait a minute.” He looked me up and down quizzical y. “There’s something different. You seem a little strange.” I tried to walk past him, but Freddy’s arm was solid like a tree trunk.

“What is it?” he said, more to himself than to me.

“It’s nothing. Come on, you said it yourself, we have work to do.”

“Not so fast, Junior.” He brought his face close enough to mine that I could feel his breath on my cheeks. “You look …” he blinked twice. “You look happy!”

I couldn’t hold it in. “I am happy!” I shouted. I grabbed him in a bear hug and, even though he had fifty pounds of muscle on me, I spun him around. I stepped back and pointed to my face. “Look! This is me! Happy!” I gave a little jump.

Freddy laughed. “I take it you got laid?”

“Royal y.”

Tony?

“Final y.”

Freddy smiled with just a touch of sadness in his eyes. “Good for you,” he said. Then, seriously, “I just hope you’re careful.”

Why was everyone tel ing me that?

“So,” he whispered conspiratorial y, “how was it?”

“It was,” I said, “worth waiting for.”

“You haven’t exactly been waiting.” Freddy grinned.

I smiled back and forgave him for not knowing what I myself hadn’t realized until just hours ago: I real y had been.

And now the waiting was over.

By 1:00 in the morning, my ass had been patted about a hundred times, my nipples pinched half that much, and my crotch groped by a handful of especial y stoned or brazen customers of Sexbar.

Which, by the way, was not a bar at al but a series of hal ways with some large carpeted rooms, a few smal er ones with seating, and about fifty smal cubicles with doors that ended two feet above the floor like the doors of a men’s changing room, where two (or three, if they were smal or limber enough) interested parties could retire for what passed for privacy.

There was also a snack room that served soft drinks but no alcohol, which is where Freddy and I stood in our underwear giving out safer-sex materials. Since we were young and cute and scantily clad, it wasn’t hard to get a guy’s attention.

“We’re almost out of goodies,” Freddy said, handing me the last of his bag’s contents. “After this we can get out of here.” An especial y handsome young man in a jockstrap walked by. “Or not.” I handed them back. “Can you get this? If I don’t go pee right now, I’m going to wet myself.”

“Naw, that wil just get the golden shower lovers rushing over, and you know how they are—they’l never stop buying us sodas.”

“OK,” I said, “I’l be right back.”

Freddy and I had been doing these volunteer nights once a month for almost a year, so I knew my way around. The bathroom was just past the video lounge, through a row of cubbies, and behind the orgy room. I got there quickly, peed voluminously, shook myself for twice as long as I needed to (when you’re just wearing underwear, you have to watch out for spotting), and headed back to the snack room.

A young guy of about my height stood outside the door. He was dead sexy and built like a swimmer, shaved or natural y hairless (it was hard to tel in the dim light), and wearing the exact pair of underwear I had on. “I’ve been waiting for you to take a break,” he said. He winked one periwinkle blue eye and flashed a kil er smirk.

He was delicious, but I was pretty sexed-out.

“Sorry,” I said. “I have to get back to my friend.”

“Aw, come on.” He pointed to a cubicle two feet away. “Why should they have al the fun?” I turned to see what he was pointing at and, sure enough, whoever was getting it on in there seemed to be having an exceptional y good time. The groans and grunts of the guy with his dress pants pooled around his Prada shoes were twice as loud as those of every other happy bottom in the place. Combined.

“He does seem like he’s having a good time,” I observed.

“I could make you drown him out,” The Swimmer promised.

“Tempting,” I said. “Maybe another time.” Only a loser lingers over rejection at a sex club, and this guy was no loser. “I’l keep an eye out for you,” he said, walking away.

I looked one more time at the rocking cubby and thought that it was nice that I wasn’t the only one who had a real y good day. Good for you, lucky stranger, although you probably don’t need luck if you can actual y afford this season’s Prada shoes.

Shoes I’d never even seen outside of a magazine except for … oh, no. It couldn’t be.

I got closer to the cubby. Listened harder. Yes, there was a distinctively nasal whine to the moans.

Impossible, I thought. But stil …

I had to know. I knocked on the door. “Hey, you guys sound hot. Got room for a third in there?”

“Go away,” the guy in back shouted.

“I’m real y good,” I answered.

“Not interested.”

“Um, can I just watch?”

“Get the fuck out of here!”

OK, that wasn’t going to work.

I opened the cubby next door and walked in on two other guys just starting to make out. “Sorry!” I said.

I tried the cubicle on the other side. Empty. I went in and checked out the floor. Seeing no obvious puddles or stains, I grimaced, dropped to my knees, and peered under the partition. No good. From this angle I couldn’t see their faces.

The only way to tel who was inside was to look over the partition, which was about two feet over my head. Not a problem. I jumped up, grabbed hold of the wal , and hauled myself up.

I was grateful for al those pul -ups at gym.

Straightening my arms, I was able to suspend myself over the wal and see … the tops of their heads. That didn’t do any good. I held my position for a few minutes, hoping the guy in the Prada shoes would throw his head back in ecstasy, but it never happened.

“Oh, yeah,” he moaned. “Make it hurt, man!” Bad dialogue aside, I wanted to get this over with.

Not only were my arms getting tired, but the wal wasn’t feeling too secure. I figured my best bet would be to get down and wait outside until they emerged.

Just then, I felt something slipping and the view started to shift. Was I sliding down?

No, it was the wal of the cubby, giving way under my weight.

As it began to lean down towards the couple next door, the metal objected with a terrible loud groaning. That made the guys look up.

“Holy shit,” Prada shoes said, “the place is fal ing in on us!”

Oh great, I thought, now I got his attention.

Then his eyes met mine. “You!”

Yup, I thought, and I know you, too.

Paul Harrington. Al en’s married son.

I had seen the guy he was with earlier that evening. He was actual y pretty hot. Tal , dark hair, nice body. A couple of tattoos and a nipple ring kept his prep school good looks from being too boring.

Paul had good taste.

The door to their cubby flew open and the guys tumbled out, stil attached at the crotch.

I would have laughed if the bolts holding the wal up didn’t suddenly pul out from their supports, bringing the wal ’s slow control ed descent to a sudden loud col apse.

“Gah!” I yel ed as the floor rushed up to greet me.

And then everything went dark.

Twenty minutes later I was sitting in Sexbar’s office with an icepack on my forehead and Freddy at my side. I had only lost consciousness for a moment, by which time Freddy had already run over.