BARKLEY LIFTED his fingers off the piano keys and turned when he heard Tinkerbell express her disapproval that he’d stopped playing and singing. He’d discovered her penchant for classical music quite by accident when he’d brought her home from the shelter that first night. She’d been very timid, remaining inside her carrier for the first several hours; he’d placed treats and a bowl of water just outside the carrier hoping that she would discover that she was safe, that she was home. But despite several tentative approaches for a few quick sniffs, Tinkerbell did not move. Barkley thought he would lose it completely when he looked in from time to time to see her shaking; at least, that’s what it looked like to him.
At the time, he’d only had Mozart and Salieri, and he’d done enough reading to know that he shouldn’t introduce them all too quickly. So, frustrated that first evening with his failure to connect with the frightened and blind kitten, Barkley had gone to check on them. He’d put them in one of the spare bedrooms. While he was in there, playing and giving the two of them some attention, he heard his cell phone ringing. It was new. He’d been in a playful mood when he’d chosen Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” because he couldn’t help singing along, “Kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit.”
He hadn’t been in time to find out who had been calling, but he had been in time to see Tinkerbell far outside of her cage, ears on alert and searching for the sound that was coming from the cell phone. Since he’d missed the call anyway, he decided to try and make Tinkerbell feel a little bit more at home. That’s when he picked up the home phone and dialed his own cell phone number, finding it almost impossible to keep himself from laughing every time the tune would play and he would sing, “Kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit”; Tinkerbell not only found the phone, but eventually made her way over to him, meowing to beat the band.
It didn’t seem to matter what Barkley would sing or play; Tinkerbell was a fan of it all. So he could understand her disappointment when he had stopped practicing his songs for the charity benefit. He’d sung all of the requested songs so many times that he could probably do them in his sleep. In fact, he wasn’t so sure he hadn’t sung them in his sleep. He made a mental note to ask Duncan when he got home from work, a sly smile coming quickly to his lips when he thought about Duncan.
“Okay,” Barkley said, relenting when Tinkerbell hopped up onto the piano bench and started kneading his thigh, her mews getting louder with each passing second that she didn’t hear music. “Schwanengesang just once more, and then I have to start dinner.”
He shook his head as she stopped mewing and sat down beside him as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “I always knew there was something extra special about you.”
Tinkerbell offered a single meow.
“You’re welcome,” Barkley said, laughing out loud and opening the bound volume of Schubert songs. “Okay, I’d like to dedicate this one to a special young lady who is my biggest fan.”
Barkley placed his fingers gently on the keys, closing his eyes and imagining that it was the dark of night. He is alone but he is not lonely; he is in love and will ask his lover to come to him. He will sing of his love and let his message be carried on the trees, the wind; his message is so pure that even the nightingales will surely help deliver it to his one true love.
He began with the opening chord, quickly tapping out the five dotted eighth notes. He’d always imagined someone, breathless with anticipation, their heartbeat so loud in their ears. The next chord, the next five dotted eighth notes. The feelings of wanting and hoping. Another three bars before he would begin to sing softly into the distance, certain his song would be carried to his love. My songs beckon softly through the night to you; below in the quiet grove, come to me, beloved! The rustle of slender leaf tips whispers in the moonlight; do not fear the evil spying of the betrayer, my dear.
Barkley glanced down at Tinkerbell when he felt her paw pushing against his thigh again. She wouldn’t know that this part was a rest for the singer, so he hummed to placate her. The few bars without singing were among the most beautiful to Barkley, not solely because he got to rest, but rather because they were musical echoes of what he had been singing. They put him in mind of the song to his beloved floating on the wind, his words of eternal devotion being whispered among the tallest branches on every tree. It was some of the most sublime music he’d ever heard.
Do you hear the nightingale’s call? Ah, they beckon to you; with the sweet sound of their singing they beckon to you for me. They understand the heart’s longing, know the pain of love; they calm each tender heart with their silver tones.
DUNCAN HEARD Barkley say something to Tinkerbell. He’d almost gotten his key in the door when he heard the music, heard the soft, quick tapping of the keys and felt an overwhelming sense of anticipation. Even before hearing the beautiful voice of the man who’d given him a second chance at life, he could feel his heart begin to race, could hear an urgency he’d never before felt while listening to any piece of music.
Duncan was in no way what anyone would call a fan of classical music. Whenever he even heard the term, it would do nothing but conjure up images of stuffy musicians dressed like penguins playing music written by people who’d died hundreds of years ago. He didn’t have anything against the people who liked it, but it had just never done for him what it obviously did for others. Others like Barkley. He couldn’t imagine the dedication involved in learning all of those other languages, learning to play an instrument, all for the sake of being one more person in the world who could “interpret” these ancient songs.
But at that moment, he stood, his eyes closed and his ear pressed against the door, not understanding any of the words Barkley was singing but understanding everything else. He shook his head as he realized that he may be guilty of a little transference; perhaps he was so captivated by this piece of music because it was being sung by the first man he’d ever met who was more haunted than he was. This quiet and beautiful man who had so far not asked for anything; thus far, he’d only given. At that moment, Duncan realized he was standing on the other side of the door, voluntarily keeping himself from being with this man.
He turned the key as quietly as he could and stepped inside, not wanting to distract Barkley. There was no chance of Barkley seeing him; the piano was in the corner, and Barkley would have his back to the door. But he still moved slowly, methodically, setting down his bag and pushing his keys into his pocket, trying to make no noise at all. He smiled as he saw Barkley’s broad back, the light fabric of his short-sleeve shirt blowing gently with the wind coming in from the open French doors. He almost laughed out loud when he saw Barkley look over to Tinkerbell every now and then, singing directly to her. Tinkerbell was kneading Barkley’s thigh, her nose pushing forward every so often to nuzzle against the soft cotton fabric of Barkley’s cargo shorts. In all the years he’d been chasing men, trying to find the one, he’d never imagined that his most serious competition would come from an adorable blind kitten with ADHD.
He listened as he moved closer, one step at a time. He’d almost made it to the coffee table when Tinkerbell turned and jumped off the bench, heading right for him. He squatted on his haunches and scooped her up, nuzzling her neck.
“May I remind you, young lady, that I dedicated this—” Duncan heard Barkley’s beautiful voice, saw him turn on the bench, looking down to see where Tinkerbell had run off to.
“Sorry,” Duncan said, trying not to laugh. “My fault. I stole your audience.”
“She was cooped up in here all day with me,” Barkley said, his hands outstretched as if to show his complete surrender. “How can I compete with someone new and infinitely more cuddleable.”
“Cuddleable?” Duncan was speaking to Tinkerbell. “I don’t think that’s a word, Stinkerbell. Do you think that’s a real word?” Tinkerbell mewed once and licked at Duncan’s hand. “I didn’t think so either.” Duncan leaned over as Barkley approached, offering a kiss. “But I thank you for the thought.”
“You’re welcome,” Barkley said as he scooped up Tinkerbell and put her on the floor with her jingle-bell toys. Duncan opened his arms and wrapped them around Barkley. “And how was your day?”
“Very… busyable.” He felt Barkley trying to pull away. He tried to hide his smile as he looked into Barkley’s amber eyes.
“Okay, Mr. Thesaurus,” Barkley scolded as he reached down to slap Duncan’s ass.
“What was that song you were playing?”
“It’s a serenade, German, from 1829,” Barkley explained as he settled against Duncan’s body. “Written by an incredibly prolific and talented composer who did not live to see his thirty-second birthday.”
“Ah,” Duncan said, thinking he knew this one. “Mozart.” He leaned in for the congratulatory kiss.
“Wrong century,” Barkley said, providing a kiss even though Duncan’s guess was incorrect. “Franz Schubert.”
“Never heard of him,” Duncan said with a shrug. “Where are the pups?”
“Spare bedroom,” Barkley said. “Along with the rest of the menagerie.”
“So, you’re all set for the concert?” Duncan began to unbutton his shirt, but found his hands quickly pushed out of the way by Barkley’s long, slim fingers.
“I am,” Barkley stated matter-of-factly as he finished with the buttons and ran his hands along Duncan’s chest, then over his shoulders, pushing the shirt off completely. Duncan grew hard as he saw Barkley lean forward for a kiss. While Duncan got lost in the soft, yet firm, pressure of that mouth, Barkley reached down and began to unbuckle his belt for him, then unbuttoned his pants and ran his hands underneath the plain white boxer shorts. As Duncan felt the hands settle on his ass, he found himself struck by the thought that those fingers had just played a beautiful song on a very expensive piano, and Duncan found himself very aroused when he thought of himself as one of Barkley’s instruments. “I missed you.”
Duncan opened his eyes to see Barkley’s half-lidded expression. He was licking his lips as he lowered himself to his knees, his hands working to free Duncan’s legs from the trousers, socks, and shoes. “Missed… you… too.” Duncan’s head was filling with images that he’d imagined a thousand times before. But this time, everything seemed different and he didn’t know why. Was it because he’d found someone who seemed to know exactly what he needed when he needed it? Or was it because he was with a man who didn’t seem to want anything from him but to please him?
Duncan wasn’t really happy with either of those thoughts, so he pushed them aside, content to focus on the matter at hand: giving back, even if Barkley wasn’t asking for anything. He reached down as Barkley began to tug at the hem of his boxers. “Come here,” Duncan said huskily. “I’ve wanted to do this all day long.”
Barkley didn’t resist; he went willingly to the bedroom and to the side of the bed. He stood while Duncan removed first his shirt, kissing and nipping his way over the muscled torso. The only sound in the room was the occasional sigh or hiss as Duncan found a sensitive piece of flesh. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Duncan stood up briefly and took Barkley’s lips roughly, licking and biting playfully with his teeth.
“I think I do,” Barkley teased as he caught Duncan’s bottom lip between his teeth and his engorged endowment in his left hand.
“HOW’S THE article coming along?” Barkley deposited another beer on the small balcony table, then sat opposite Duncan. He held Marco, the guinea pig, against his chest. “I think she likes you,” he said, a big smile on his face as he saw Tinkerbell sleeping soundly on Duncan’s lap.
“I guess I’m done,” Duncan sighed, reaching for the beer bottle with his right hand while he continued stroking the kitten with his left. “Keep meaning to ask you how you ended up with such an odd mix of pets.”
“They’re not pets,” Barkley stated quickly as he brought Marco up to his face and nuzzled his neck. “Well, I adopted Mozart and Tinkerbell. The rest are just here temporarily until I can get them to John and Lori’s.”
“They run some sort of shelter or something?” Duncan leaned back in his chair.
“Or something,” Barkley said without taking his eyes off Marco’s pink little nose. “They run a sanctuary for homeless or abused animals or animals that have special needs.”
“Like this little gal?” Barkley smiled as he watched Duncan pick up Tinkerbell and cuddle her against his chest, distracted momentarily when Duncan teased her with her favorite little bear. The kitten mewed briefly then settled herself against Duncan, falling asleep again without too much effort.
“Yes, like Stinkerbell,” Barkley admitted. “My former agent thought it would be a good idea for me to have a Facebook page and a Twitter account and all that crap. Didn’t last very long because I found it all pretty boring and trivial, but the one good thing to come out of it was discovering just how many animals were being murdered because no one wanted them. I discovered John and Lori’s place through Facebook and sent them a message offering to help. I’ll be taking them out there this Saturday. You’re welcome to come if you’d like.”
“Murdered?”
Barkley heard the dismissive tone in Duncan’s question, but didn’t want to ruin the evening by reciting all of the statistics for someone who probably never thought twice about the millions of animals that were killed each day because of lazy and careless owners. He kissed the guinea pig’s little nose one more time and then got up, looking over at Duncan. “I’ll let you get back to work.” He walked into the kitchen, suddenly angry at Duncan and not really knowing why. Just that one word, in the form of a question, had gotten his back up and he didn’t like Duncan’s tone. He set Marco down by his bowl, and while the guinea pig lapped at the water, Barkley opened the fridge and took out a few julienned carrots and a couple of lettuce leaves and crouched down to put them into the food bowl.
“What’s wrong?” Duncan was standing up, framed by the French doors to the balcony, still cradling Tinkerbell in his arms. “Did I do something? Say something?”
“Nothing is wrong, Duncan,” Barkley said as he stood up and wiped the moisture from his hands. “I forget sometimes that some people don’t care as much about animals as I do.”
“Stay right there,” Duncan ordered, and Barkley watched him walk away into the condo, only to come back a few moments later without the kitten. “What, exactly, have I done to make you think I don’t care about animals?”
Barkley began to pick up each of the bowls one by one and empty them into the sink. As he began refilling each bowl with fresh, filtered water, he looked over at Duncan. “That’s not what I said.”
“It sure as hell is!” Duncan stood with his hands on his hips, his gaze boring holes into Barkley. “You said that you forget that some people—”
“Did I say you? Did I use your name?”
“Don’t be coy, Barkley.”
Barkley placed the last bowl on the floor and stood, his hands going immediately to his temples. “Look,” he said, softly but firmly. “I’m sorry if I said anything to offend you, Duncan, but there’s something you should know about me right from the beginning.” Duncan cocked his head to the side and raised both eyebrows as if beckoning Barkley to continue. “I will talk about anything you’d like, but I’m not going to yell or be yelled at. You want to discuss this, we’ll do so as two grown men.”
“That’s what you call grown? Grouping me in with a bunch of other people because I questioned your word choice and then walking away?”
Barkley turned toward the opposite end of the kitchen, then turned back suddenly. “I’m taking the dogs out. Are you coming?”
“Yes,” Duncan said, and Barkley realized he’d been holding his breath. He turned away from Duncan and closed his eyes. Barkley didn’t have much experience with fighting and arguments; he was an only child with two parents who adored him and each other. They’d always discussed things as a family. In fact, Barkley didn’t ever remember hearing either of his parents raise their voice even once.
They gathered the dogs, attached leads, and got in the elevator heading downstairs. They both nodded to James, the nighttime doorman, and headed outside to the large patch of grass that surrounded the condo complex. Barkley stood, watching Duncan throw balls and frisbees, the guilt eating away at him more and more for what he’d started. Mozart came running over to Barkley, the loss of a leg not seeming to slow him down any, and Barkley couldn’t help but think back to how close this poor mutt had come to being euthanized. If Barkley had been held up in traffic or if he’d put off the trip to that particular pound until the next day, Mozart would not be here now.
“Hey, boy,” Barkley said as he sat down on the grass, taking the ball out of Mozart’s mouth. “Did you come over to see me? You tired of playing with your brothers already?” Barkley petted and stroked the mutt’s head and ears, kissing the snout over and over. “You’re a beautiful boy, aren’t you?” Mozart barked once and nudged the ball by Barkley’s knee. “Okay, boy,” Barkley said excitedly, picking up the ball and holding it out for Mozart to see. “Go get it.” He threw the ball off to his right, far enough away from the other dogs so that Mozart would have a fighting chance at getting there first, and laughed as he watched the mutt turn and run after the ball.
Barkley leaned back on his hands and looked over at Duncan, marveling at how attentive he was to all of the dogs, not just his own. Even the way Duncan held and cared for the other animals in the condo, like he’d done with Tinkerbell while trying to finish his article, should have been enough to prove that Barkley had been wrong in judging Duncan so harshly. Barkley had even caught him wrestling with Princess. Barkley laughed as he remembered finding both of them on the bedroom floor; he’d just come out of the bathroom after his morning shower to find Duncan had not yet left for work. She stole my lunch, Duncan had tried to explain as both sets of eyes turned when they noticed Barkley enter the room. I set it down to put on my shoes, and when I turned back around, I saw her beating a hasty retreat.
“What’s so funny?” Duncan was settling himself down on the ground beside Barkley. Barkley looked over to see the other dogs were amusing themselves with the frisbees and the tug-o-war ropes. It was as if they’d known each other for years.
Barkley leaned over, their shoulders touching, and kissed Duncan’s cheek. He pulled back slightly and stared into his lover’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Duncan. I’m sorry if I was rude. I won’t do it again.” Just then, Mozart came back with his ball. Barkley scooped it up and threw it again, leaning back on his hands once more.
Barkley was relieved to feel one of Duncan’s strong arms come out and wrap around his shoulders. He was even more relieved to feel the lingering kiss on his temple. “I’m sorry too, Barkley. I’m still learning that not everything is a personal attack on me. I’ve been kind of defensive ever since… well, for a while now.”
“I was actually laughing just now because I remembered how you were fighting with Princess. When she stole your lunch?” Barkley heard Duncan’s deep bass voice and watched as he tilted his head back and laughed. God, this man’s voice never fails to give me goose bumps, Barkley thought as he saw the twinkle in his lover’s blue eyes. Too bad he can’t carry a tune in a bucket.
“I do remember that,” Duncan scolded as leaned over and deposited another kiss on Barkley’s temple. “And if I remember correctly, you took her side.”
“I did not take her side,” Barkley said, laughing again. “I just offered to pay for her attorney.” Barkley smiled for Duncan and leaned forward for another kiss. “I’m sorry. I never even asked. You’re okay with me kissing you in public like this?”
Duncan closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Barkley’s and brought one hand up to cradle his neck. After a brief and very tender kiss, Duncan pulled back and looked at Barkley. “I should be asking you that.”
“Trust me,” Barkley said, trying to keep the derision from his voice. Mozart came back with the ball, but would not let it drop; he placed the ball behind him, out of Barkley’s reach, and lay down, resting his legs across his master’s lap. “A picture of me in the tabloids kissing a handsome man? I’ll take that over some of those other god-awful pictures they like to print.”
“Well, thank you, but I didn’t mean the handsome part, more the jailbird, disgraced journalist part.”
Barkley did not respond right away. There was something in Duncan’s voice, something in the way his eyes looked down as he finished the question. “I don’t see any of that when I look at you, Duncan. And I told you before that I think that whole situation was completely mishandled.” Barkley brought a hand up and caressed Duncan’s cheek. “I could ask you the same thing about a failed singer?”
“Failed? I don’t think so,” Duncan said and pushed himself up onto his feet, reaching out a hand to pull Barkley up as well. “So it’s settled: You’re nuts about me… and me? I’m still weighing my options.”
Barkley laughed and bent over to pick up Mozart’s ball. He threw it at Duncan and crossed his arms as he watched Mozart run after Duncan to get the ball. Barkley wasn’t sure if Duncan was just a pathetically slow runner or if he let Mozart attack him, but Mozart had him down on the ground soon enough, ball forgotten, licking his face. “Get him, Motzie!”
Barkley was still shaking his head in wonder and complete amazement as he pulled the leads out of his pocket and started rounding up the dogs.