33
For Always
Bo and Darius had just enjoyed a simple yet delicious dinner of salad, baked potatoes, ears of corn, and perfectly done steaks straight off the grill. It was a rare week when Darius’s schedule was light, void of rehearsals, meetings, or travel, and he and Bo had been taking full advantage. Last night they’d enjoyed front-row seats at a Jay-Z and Beyoncé concert and two days before that they’d treated themselves to twenty-four hours at Canyon Ranch, a luxury spa just two hours from Phoenix where they enjoyed mud baths, steam baths, and couple massages in a gay-friendly atmosphere. The food had been stellar and while they’d passed on the hiking trails, Bo had admired Darius’s taut backside when the physically fit producer/musician/singer/R & B star scaled the climbing wall. They’d laughed and loved and watched shooting stars while floating in a natural pool. Darius remembered all of the reasons why Bo was the love of his life and Bo almost forgot the reason Darius was being so attentive.
Unfortunately, the ringing phone on the granite-countered bar separating the kitchen and the living/dining space was a constant reminder. The fool who fancied himself madly in love with Darius had been calling all day.
Darius, who was helping Bo put away the food, walked over to the phone, checked the caller ID, then casually strolled back over to the dishwasher.
“You might as well answer it,” Bo said, after noting how Darius tried to keep his nonchalant expression. Emphasis on tried. “You know you want to.”
“How do you figure? I told you at the beginning of the week. This is our time. Business can wait.”
“Oh, you’re still trying to sell me that fairy tale that Paz’s calls to you are all about that movie project? Do you have some ocean-front property in Nogales that you want to sell me too?” The words were harsh, softened only by the kiss Bo placed near Darius’s neck as he pinched his butt.
“Ha, ha. If you ever decide to get out of management you might check into becoming a comedian.”
“No, thank you. One of us on stage is enough in this family.” Bo placed the remaining salad into the refrigerator and reached for the sliced strawberries marinating in a sugary juice. “You want dessert now?”
Darius slowly turned around, his brown eyes twinkling as he licked his lips. “I’m sure you did your Aunt Gladean proud, baby, so I’d love some of that strawberry shortcake you made from scratch.” He walked over to Bo, and gave his face an affectionate caress. “I’d love it even more in the bedroom. And don’t forget the whipped cream.”
Bo preened like a peacock in full heat. “You’re such a bad boy. It’s why I love you.”
“I think I’m going to take a quick shower. See you in a few?”
“You got it, lover.”
In the master suite, just inside the bathroom, Darius talked on the home’s cordless phone. “I told you, P. I’ve been spending time with Bo. Quality time, with no distractions.” A pause while he obviously listened to what Paz had to say. “That’s just it. I didn’t talk to anybody! We went to a day spa; I didn’t even have my telephone.”
Bo rounded the corner to the bedroom, immediately aware that instead of water running it was Darius’s voice that he heard.
“It’s not something I take lightly, believe me. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”
And then something else, said very lowly, at almost a whisper. Bo would have done a cat burglar proud, so quiet was he as he placed the sweet-laden tray on the cedar bench at the foot of the bed before tiptoeing over to the wall that separated him from his betrayer. His movements were especially noteworthy, considering they happened with his heart on the floor.
Darius’s voice took on a pleading quality. “Don’t do that. Listen to me, baby. I didn’t take what happened lightly. Please believe that. This isn’t easy. You knew from the start that I was married.” Bo’s heartbeat escalated to . . . oh . . . about fifteen-hundred beats per minute, way beyond what should have caused a heart attack. All of the doubts and fears that had gathered in the past couple months returned full force, accompanied by pain. A picture of their spontaneous Canadian wedding flashed before him as he continued to listen, those magical nights when they relished the feel of freshly fallen snow, exchanged uniquely designed wedding rings, drank pricey champagne before a crackling fire, and made love in every room of the luxuriously appointed suite. This muthafucka told me he was taking a shower. Didn’t know that meant showering Mr. Holly-weird with bullshit. In his mind Bo was strong and secure, using his ready sarcasm to mask the emotional shifting happening as a result of his worst fears being verbally confirmed. But in reality, Bo felt as though he’d been punched in the gut by Mike Tyson, Evander Holyfield, and an in-his-prime Muhammad Ali . . . all at once.
Suddenly, Darius felt uneasy. “Look,” he whispered, “I’ve got to go.”
Silence as Bo imagined Paz pleading for Darius to ... what? Meet him somewhere? Leave the marriage? And just what had happened that Darius did not take lightly? Bo didn’t know, but he planned to find out. In the seconds it took for Darius to end the call, Bo’s hurt had turned to anger. He stood ramrod straight, arms crossed, face set in stone that rivaled the boys on Mount Rushmore.
“Look, I said I would, all right? Just stop calling me.” Darius ended the call and turned with a huff. “Oh, hey, baby.”
“Hey, baby, hell! I heard you, muthafucka!”
“It was nothing.”
“So why was nothing being discussed in the bathroom?” Bo’s voice escalated along with his blood pressure. “All on the down low and shit!”
“This is why—because I knew you’d get upset!” Darius’s volume increased as well.
Probably not the best move as evidenced by the split second it took Bo to get within microinches of his face. “Which do you think would make me more upset, Dee? You talking to that asshole or you doing it behind my back? You’re fucking him!”
“I told you I’m not,” Darius retorted, figuring that technically this was true. He took a step back.
“You’re lying!” Bo took a step forward.
“Bo, calm down!” Steps back.
“Calm down? You want me to calm down?” Steps forward. “I walk in here all ready to make love to my husband, only to find him on the phone with his lover? And I’m supposed to calm the hell down? Or beat you the hell up? Which one sounds more appropriate right about now?”
The clenched fists at Bo’s side signaled that he was more inclined to do the latter.
Darius’s back was against the wall, in more ways than one. He took a deep breath, silently cursing himself for giving in to his desire to hear Paz’s voice. “Baby, can we just talk about this?”
After a tension-filled moment, Bo stepped back and again crossed his arms over a slightly heaving chest. “Okay, talk. I’m listening.”
“I needed to talk to him about the project.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Paz is acting in the movie; you’re writing the score. What does one have to do with the other?”
Darius walked over to the toilet, put down the lid and sat down. “You’re not going to like it.”
“Just tell me!”
“We’re collaborating.” He forced himself to meet Bo’s incredulous gaze. “It was an executive decision. I guess Paz gave them a CD of his work; some poems he’d written and set to music. They like his voice.” He shrugged. “Thought it would be good PR for us to work on the title track for the sound track.”
Bo stormed out of the bathroom.
“Bo, wait!” Darius followed him into the bedroom. “Bo, please . . .” He reached out to grab Bo’s arm.
“Don’t touch me!” His look was one of pure disdain. “There’s no telling where your hands have been.”
“C’mon, Bo . . . it’s not even like that. I was going to tell you.”
“When? When the song came on the damn radio?”
Darius laughed. Bo scowled. Darius raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry.” He sat on the bed. “Will you sit down? Please.” Instead of sitting on the bed next to Darius, Bo perched on the bench at the end of it. He sat sideways, not looking at Darius but straight ahead, placing Darius in his peripheral vision. “I’ll admit that I flirt around with Paz.” Bo snorted. “I probably shouldn’t do it. Guess you could say I’m a bit starstruck.” Silence. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Bo.”
“But I do worry.” Bo’s voice was soft, tenuous. “People are always throwing themselves at you. Men, women, hell, even the neighbor’s dog has fallen in love.” He looked at Darius now, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “This is the first time that you’ve flirted back.”
“Oh, baby.” Darius moved to the end of the bed and wrapped his arms around Bo. This time there was no resistance. “I love you.”
“Me too, Dee.” Sniff. “You’re my world.”
“And you’re mine.” They sat silently a moment, Bo feeling Darius’s breath on the side of his face, Darius feeling Bo’s heartbeat return to normal. “Our fifth anniversary is coming up.”
“I know.”
“Might be nice to spend it in Canada.”
Bo smiled. “At the Fairmont Le Manoir Richelieu?”
“That’s one of my favorite places.”
“Why?”
Darius kissed Bo’s temple. “You know why.”
Darius kissed Bo again, moving from his temple to his cheek and when he’d coaxed Bo into facing him, his mouth. Soon clothes were removed and strawberries and cream were spread on the places that Bo had envisioned. The lovemaking was awesome, as always. Darius was extra-attentive and in a rare move was on the receiving end of love’s penetration. They went to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms. And as they did so, Bo’s last thought was on making sure that he was always wrapped in Darius’s arms . . . where he belonged.