Overture

Overture / D.G. Parker

IT was December twenty-third, two days before Christmas, one day before Christmas Eve. New York was raw and cold, still waiting for its first big snowfall of the year. Cars and taxis wended their way through jammed streets. People crowded the sidewalks and bubbled out of the subways, ducking in and out of stores for last-minute gifts or hurrying off to holiday parties. Twenty-two floors above street level, Eric Daystrom stood on the balcony of a luxury hotel suite and seriously considered chucking his cell phone over the railing. “You have no new messages,” the phone informed him again. Grumbling, he punched the key that exited voice mail and flipped the phone shut. He flipped it back open, his thumb poised over the speed-dial button, and then he swore and closed the phone again. Fuck him, he thought, clenching one hand around the freezing metal rail. I won’t be the one to call. Not this time. A throat cleared behind him, and Eric tilted his head in response. His latest personal assistant – Francis? Phillip? – lingered in the doorway, running down his itinerary in a tight voice that told Eric he was less than comfortable with the temperature.

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Overture / D.G. Parker “I’ve ordered your lunch, it should arrive momentarily. At two o’clock, you have a phone interview with CNN. The reporter from the Times will be here at three, I’ve laid your clothing out on the bed.” “Which clothes?” “Khakis and the blue button-down.” “Fine. Anything else?” “Marjorie would like you to call her sometime today regarding the inaugural ball.” Eric nodded and turned back to the city, enjoying the way the air cooled his skin and ruffled his hair. Behind him, his P.A. continued detailing the remainder of the day. “After the Times interview they’re expecting you at the hall for a sound check. You can rehearse there, if you like.” “No, I’ll rehearse here tonight, where it’s quiet. Maybe squeeze in an hour or two at the hall tomorrow.” “Very well. Ah, there’s your lunch.” The P.A. went to answer the knock, momentarily leaving him alone with his thoughts. Somehow his phone had migrated out of his hip pocket and back into his hand, and his thumb was rubbing restlessly across its face. Eric swore again and pushed away from the rail.

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Overture / D.G. Parker The suite seemed close and stuffy after the open air. Eric made his way to the dining room, following his assistant’s discreet throat-clearing as he navigated around the ridiculously large table. As he slid into a chair, a napkin was dropped across his lap. “Your sandwich is at three, fries at nine. Beverage is on the right.” “Thanks. I can’t believe they had something this pedestrian at such a frou-frou hotel.” “Actually, they didn’t. I ordered out.” Eric grunted and took a bite, savoring the taste of his corned beef sandwich. Sometimes a guy just got tired of gourmet meals. “This is great,” he said, flicking his tongue out to catch a dab of mustard at the corner of his mouth. “It’s no Slymann’s, but it’s really good.” “There’s a very good deli nearby. I used to eat there quite often.” “You’re from New York?” “Yes, sir, born and bred. My mother still lives in Queens.” Eric stretched his left hand across the table and a bottle instantly met his palm. He poured a puddle of ketchup on his plate. “Why don’t you go out and visit her?” he offered, stuffing a handful of dripping French fries in his mouth. “I thought I might do that while you’re rehearsing tonight. That is, if you don’t think you’ll need me.” 4

Overture / D.G. Parker “It’ll be five by then, at least. Even a Cleveland boy like me knows that’s no time to head out to the Island. Look, Francis –” “Phillip, sir.” “Look, Phillip, why don’t you go out now? Maybe even spend the night with your mom.” “Oh no, sir. I couldn’t leave you for that long.” “Sure you can. Believe it or not, I used to manage just fine on my own.” “Sir –” Eric held up a hand and sighed. “Phil, how long have you been with me?” The P.A.’s voice belied his nervousness. “Almost a month, sir.” “A month. And in that time, how many times have I asked you to call me Eric?” “Sir, I’m just not comfortable –” “Forgive me if I sound like a diva here, Phil, but isn’t your job to make me comfortable?” “Um….” “Just loosen up and give me a little space, would you? I’m not helpless; I won’t die if you go to Queens. All right?”

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Overture / D.G. Parker Poor Phillip was obviously distressed. Eric knew his manager had probably issued strict instructions to watch him like a hawk, but enough was enough. “All right, sir. Eric, I mean Eric. If you’re certain you’ll be okay….” “I’ll be fine,” Eric assured him, cramming his sandwich in his mouth. “Well, I can’t say my mother won’t be pleased,” Phillip rambled, moving about the suite. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve been home. I’ll arrange everything with the concierge on my way out. They’ll route the CNN call to your room phone and escort the Times reporter in and out. I’ll confirm the car service to the hall and make sure someone escorts you.” The man paused, still uncomfortable with his unexpected afternoon off. “You’re sure?” “Oh, I’m so sure. Go ahead, have a nice visit. Wish your mom a Merry Christmas for me.” Something like a smile finally touched Phillip’s voice. “I will, sir. And thank you.” The door closed behind him, and Eric enjoyed a brief moment of peace. Then he took out his cell and held it in front of him, silently counting down from three. It rang just as he reached two. “Hello, Phil.” “Sir, I forgot to mention your shoes.” “What about my shoes, Phil?” “You’ll want to wear the brown loafers –” 6

Overture / D.G. Parker “Phil –” “They’re on the floor in your closet, second pair from the right. You know, I should put them out for you. As soon as the elevator –” “Phil, if you show your face in this suite before morning I will throw you off the balcony. Clear?” A few seconds of stunned silence passed. “Clear,” Phillip finally croaked. “Have a good day, sir.” “Goodbye, Phil.” Eric dropped the phone on the table and finished his lunch in blessed silence. When the last of his sandwich was gone, he tossed his napkin on the table and sat back with a mild belch. Toying with an undercooked fry he’d rejected, he found his thoughts wandering to other meals that weren’t so quiet. Where had they been, Chicago? Maybe Dallas…. They’d been at one of those trendy upscale eateries, and he’d been working his way through a fantastic gourmet burger when the napkin had slipped off his lap. He bent over to pick it up and went back to eating. Two seconds later he was coughing and wheezing, his eyes watering as he groped around the table for his beer. Dave, not content to spike his food with hot sauce, had also slid the glass beyond his reach. Between Eric’s swearing and Dave’s hysterical laughter, they’d nearly been thrown out.

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Overture / D.G. Parker Dave was kind of an asshole, Eric reflected with a faint smile. He played practical jokes on a blind guy, for Christ’s sake. He pressed a button on his watch, which cheerfully informed him that the time was one fifteen p.m. Fuck it, he thought, reaching for his phone. He flipped it open and hit speed dial one, the now-familiar knot forming in his stomach as the line rang. Leave a message or no? He’d see the call either way, which one seemed less pathetic? He’d made up his mind to hang up when Dave’s voice sounded. “Hey, babe.” “Hey yourself. What are you up to?” “Oh, me and the monkey are headed downtown to do some Christmas shopping. Josie, it’s Uncle Eric, wanna say hi?” Sounds of fumbling, and then a different voice came on. “Hi, Uncle Eric! I learnt a new song, wanna hear?” Her thin voice piped out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” in a way that made his pitch-perfect ears practically bleed. “That’s beautiful, honey,” he praised. Dave’s niece was adorable, if a bit more energetic than he was used to. “How’s your Mommy?” “Good.”

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Overture / D.G. Parker More fumbling, and Dave was back on the line. “I thought you might enjoy that, being a professional musician and all.” “Oh, it was lovely. Asshole.” Dave laughed, and the familiar sound made Eric’s chest tighten just a bit. There wasn’t much laughter in his life these days, not since Dave went back to DC. “Hey, sorry I didn’t call you back; you know how it gets around the holidays.” “Yeah.” Eric bit his lip and let it go. “Speaking of, you gonna make it up for the concert?” There was a pause. Eric could hear traffic sounds and Josie, still singing softly to herself. “Babe, you know I want to be there, but Christmas Eve is tough. It’s a big night for Josie. She needs me.” “I need you,” Eric replied, his voice sounding thick and tense to his own ears. Dave sighed. “I just can’t spend five hours each way on the train on Christmas Eve. I have responsibilities now, Eric. Josie needs stability.” “I’ll send a car. Bring Josie and Dana. I’ll get you a room.” “It’s not that simple. Look, I gotta go, this traffic is ridiculous. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

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Overture / D.G. Parker “Yeah, okay,” Eric muttered, but Dave was already distracted, murmuring to Josie about which store she wanted to visit. Eric hung up without saying goodbye.

HE managed to keep a lid on his foul mood long enough to get through the interviews, but by the time he made his way to the lobby he was in a true funk. As the minutes ticked by with no sign of his car, the funk teetered on the brink of a full-blown hissy fit. “I’m sorry, Mr. Daystrom, the car service doesn’t have your reservation on file. I’m trying to find you another car, but so far everything’s booked. If you’d like to wait in your room, I can let you know when something becomes available.” “Are all the taxis booked too?” He huffed. “Just call me a cab, for cryin’ out loud.” The telltale uncomfortable silence let him know he was about to be “handled” again. “Mr. Leonard left strict instructions –” “Who?” “Your assistant, Mr. Leonard. His instructions were that we put you in the car and escort you to and from the hall.” The young woman manning the concierge sounded faintly embarrassed. Eric might have felt bad for her if he weren’t so pissed.

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Overture / D.G. Parker “Despite what Mr. Leonard thinks, I’m not a package to be shipped from place to place. Believe it or not, I used to get around quite well without being coddled. So if you would kindly call me a taxi,” he said, pulling his seldom-used cane out of his pocket and snapping it open, “I’ll wait outside with the doorman.” “Wait, Mr. Daystrom!” Little feet in high heels clicked after him as he forged his way into the lobby. “Please, at least let me help you to the door.” “I don’t need help, thank you.” “Mr. Daystrom, you’re going the wrong way. You’re heading towards the bar.” Eric stopped and gave that serious thought. Very tempting. “Sir, please let me help. May I take your arm?” If she’d been a little less earnest, a little less polite, he might have held on to his anger. As it was, he sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry,” he offered, giving her the shy smile that had gotten him his way since he was eight. “I’m not usually so grumpy. It hasn’t been a great day.” “That’s all right, Mr. Daystrom. Everyone’s a little stressed this time of year.” A small hand tucked into the crook of his elbow and guided him to the left of where he’d been headed. Fifteen steps and they were across the lobby and out into the noise of the city. He was momentarily

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Overture / D.G. Parker distracted by the car horns and footsteps and snatches of conversation, but a slight squeeze to his arm returned his focus to his escort. “Carl is hailing you a cab,” she was saying. “It might take a minute or two. Can I get you anything while we wait?” “No, thanks. Uh, actually, you could answer a question for me.” “Of course.” “What color are my shoes?” “They’re black, Mr. Daystrom.” “They are? Damn.” He hesitated. “But they’re both black, right?” Amusement colored her response. “Yes, sir, both of them. Here’s your cab.” She led him to the door and hovered a bit as he ducked his head and slid inside. After a short, low-voiced conversation with the driver, she leaned in through his open door. “You’re all set. The driver will take you to Carnegie Hall and wait until you’re done, then he’ll bring you back. If you have any problems at all, call the hotel and ask for me. My name is Amy.” “Thank you, Amy,” he said sincerely. “Uh, here.” He fumbled for his wallet, rifling through the carefully folded bills. “No, sir,” the concierge said firmly, patting his arm. “It’s all part of the service. Merry Christmas.” 12

Overture / D.G. Parker “You too,” he answered. The door closed, and he settled back into the seat as the cab began to move. For a moment it was quiet but for the muted sounds of traffic. “I admit, I’m a little disappointed,” the driver suddenly said. “Excuse me?” “Ever since I started driving a cab, I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me how to get to Carnegie Hall, just so I can say ‘Practice’.” Eric quirked a grin. “Sorry I didn’t set you up.” Judging from his voice, the driver was young, probably secondgeneration Italian. He was also in a good mood. “How’s the traffic?” “Lousy,” came the cheerful reply. “Quicker to walk, honestly.” “Wish I could,” Eric snorted. “Apparently, I’ve grown much too precious to be allowed that sort of thing.” “Hey, you never know. You could hurt your finger flipping someone off. Then how would you play the Ave tomorrow night?” “I’m impressed,” Eric admitted. “You’re pretty well informed about music for a cab driver.” “Not really. We just passed a bus station with an ad for your concert. Nice picture.”

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Overture / D.G. Parker “Do I look fat?” “Naw, you look hot as hell.” The cabbie’s voice was light and humorous, but there was a familiar undertone that piqued Eric’s interest. “I’ll take your word for it.” “As you should. I’m quite a connoisseur of good-looking men. I majored in it at college.” “Your college had a good-looking men major?” “No. That’s probably why they threw me out.” Eric laughed. “Seriously?” “Absolutely. They politely asked me to leave and never come back. I was only going to make my mother happy, but school was never my thing.” The taxi came to a halt. The driver uttered a mild curse and put the car into park. “Traffic’s stopped. Looks like some jerk in a box truck’s blocking the intersection. Sorry about the delay.” “It’s okay,” Eric replied, stretching his legs as much as the back seat allowed. “It’s not like they’ll start without me. So what’s your name?” From the increased clarity of his voice, the driver had obviously turned in his seat to face him. “I forgot for a minute you can’t read the license. If I tell you, you promise not to laugh?”

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Overture / D.G. Parker “Cross my heart,” Eric answered, making the matching gesture. “Now see, you’re already smiling!” the driver protested. “It’s Dante. Named after my grandfather, who came to this country in 1920 with his brother and two dollars in his pocket.” “His brother was in his pocket?” “Man, I knew you were a wiseass the minute I laid eyes on you. The Scarpone brothers arrived in New York in 1920,” he recited in a bored tone. “They were poor and sick from the ship. For the first month they were here, they survived on nothing but a twenty-pound bag of dog food.” “Really? Dog food?” “Yup. It’s true what they say, every immigrant has a story. It’s just not all of them are that interesting.” “Ah, gotcha.” “So Eric, mind if I ask you something?” “Yes, I’ve been blind all my life,” he said wearily. “Not what I was gonna ask, but okay.” “Sorry, that’s the question I always get. It gets a little tiresome after a while.” “I bet. You should tell ’em it’s none of their business, fuck ’em.” 15

Overture / D.G. Parker “I’m already getting a reputation as a diva. What did you want to ask?” “Well, you’ve been playing the piano since you were a kid, right?” “Yeah, since I was eight.” “So do you still like it?” Eric frowned. “Like it?” “Well, yeah. I assume at one point you actually enjoyed playing. I just wondered if you still do, or if doing it for a living takes all the fun out of it.” “Huh.” Eric leaned back into the upholstery and gave the question serious thought. “Funny, it’s not something I really think about. Most of the time, it’s just my job. Sometimes, though, when I’m on stage, I remember what it’s supposed to be like, how it’s supposed to feel.” He shrugged and offered a weak smile. “It’s hard to describe.” Dante’s voice was subdued. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “It was too personal, I shouldn’t have asked.” The driver’s voice had dropped in timber, and Eric found it incredibly sexy. “It’s okay,” he murmured. Without being aware of it, he’d begun to lean toward Dante’s voice. The cab suddenly seemed very warm.

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Overture / D.G. Parker A cacophony of honking horns startled them both. Dante turned around with a mild curse. “We’re moving again. Should be there in a couple minutes.” “Good,” Eric said, but he felt a pang of disappointment. He’d been enjoying the conversation, and he hadn’t enjoyed much lately. A few moments later and Dante put the cab in park. Eric heard the driver’s door open and close, and then his own door opened. “Okay, Chief, you’re my first blind guy, so let me know if I do anything wrong or piss you off or something.” Eric climbed out of the car and snapped out his cane. With his left hand he gripped the sleeve of Dante’s coat. “Piece of cake. Just warn me about steps and try not to walk me into any walls.” “You got it. We’ll see if I’m as smart as a German shepherd.” “At least! I don’t know any German shepherds that can drive a taxi through Manhattan during rush hour.” “No, but I hear they do all right on the highway.” “You’re really weird,” Eric noted as they headed inside. “You’re not the first to notice.” Inside, every word and shuffled footstep echoed in the huge lobby. They were barely over the threshold when they

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Overture / D.G. Parker were greeted by a brisk voice. “Ah, Mr. Daystrom, we’ve been expecting you. Everything is set up, and the tuner is waiting for you. If you’ll permit me?” Eric’s grip was transferred from Dante’s arm to the stranger’s, and he found himself being led away at a pace slightly too fast to be comfortable. He dug in his heels and put on the brakes. “Dante?” “Don’t worry, Chief. I’ll be waiting out in the taxi when you’re done.” “Why don’t you wait inside? Never hurts to have another pair of ears in the hall. I mean, unless you’ll get in trouble for not being with the cab?” “Naw, the hotel called my dispatcher; they put me pretty much at your disposal for the night. You know, I lived in this city all my life and never been in here.” “That settles it.” Eric grinned. “Grab yourself a front-row seat. This shouldn’t take long.” The Isaac Stern Auditorium was empty and quiet, save a handful of audio and lighting techs calling readings to each other. Eric was escorted to the grand piano at center stage. He sat down on the bench and scooted it slightly closer, giving his wrists an unconscious twitch that tugged his sleeves back. Starting from the low end of the keyboard, he played a chromatic scale and quickly found a flat F. Before he had a chance to do more than make a face, the tuner was on it. 18

Overture / D.G. Parker “Try it now.” He did, and nodded. “Much better.” The grand had a sweet tone – not too mellow, not too bright. The damper pedal was a bit stiff, but nothing he couldn’t work with. He moved with ease into Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, which had been his warm-up piece since he was sixteen. He skipped to the first accelerando, getting a feel for the keys and listening to each note as it fell. Finishing with a silly flourish, he turned to the empty auditorium. “How’s it sound, Dante?” “Fantastic! I don’t know any classical stuff, but that song sounds familiar.” “It should, all the greats have played it. Tom and Jerry, Bugs Bunny….” “That’s where I’ve heard it. Hey, you know anything by Bullwinkle?” Eric grinned. “This is a regular set, I don’t take requests.” At that he launched into a little boogie-woogie that had the tuner chuckling. Half an hour later he was satisfied with the piano, and the sound technicians had what they needed. Dante met him on stage and handed him his coat. “That was really amazing. You make it look so easy.”

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Overture / D.G. Parker “It’s just a sound check. Believe me, it’s a lot different when the place is full and the lights are beating down on you.” Eric finished buttoning his coat and pulled on the gloves he wouldn’t be caught outside without at this time of year. Dante took his hand and gave it a squeeze before transferring it to his elbow. “So,” the driver exhaled as they made their way outside, “back to the hotel?” Eric groaned. “Do we have to?” “Nope. I’m at your service, Chief. What’s your pleasure?” “I’m starving. Let’s find somewhere to eat.” “Okay by me. What are you in the mood for? I know the best pizza place in the city.” “Ooo, pizza,” Eric sighed. Dante laughed and opened the cab door. “We have a winner.” Coletta’s was a tiny place off the beaten path that smelled like heaven itself. Dante greeted the owner by name, and they were shown to a table. “This is a traditional Italian place,” Dante warned. “No pies with guacamole or tofu, weird shit like that.” “What would you recommend?”

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Overture / D.G. Parker They ordered a sausage and pepperoni pizza and worked their way through a couple of beers while they waited. As tinny Christmas carols played from a radio behind the counter, Dante pressed for details of the many places he’d traveled. Eric described them as best he could. His memories consisted of smells and sounds – the damp, loamy scent of the Irish countryside, the overwhelming onslaught of sound in the streets of Hong Kong, the aroma of fresh-baked baguettes in Paris. And because he was such a big part of those memories, the conversation eventually came around to Dave. “So you have a boyfriend,” Dante concluded as they dug into the pizza. It was super-hot and greasy and possibly the best Eric had ever had. “Hell, I don’t even know anymore. We’ve been together for four years. I thought he was the one, you know? When his brother-in-law died, he went back to DC to take care of his sister and her little girl, with my blessing. To help them get on their feet, you know? I figured he’d be back in a few months. But lately he’s so weird. Hardly ever calls, and when I call him, he’s … weird. I’m starting to think he’s not coming back,” he admitted, wiping his mouth. “Sounds like he’s having fun playing Dad.” “And I never saw him as the domestic type. He’s always been the partier, the joker. He’s gotten me into more trouble than I can remember. Now he’s driving Josie to ballet and

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Overture / D.G. Parker making cookies for PTA bake sales. He’s a soccer mom, for Chrissakes.” Dante couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sounds like a regular Donna Reed.” “I don’t think he’s wearing pearls yet, but you never know with Dave.” “So he’s not coming up for your concert?” “I don’t know.” Eric sighed. “All the years we’ve been together, he never missed a show. In the last six months he hasn’t made one. I leave him a ticket at will-call every time. How pathetic is that?” “It’s not pathetic. Just hopeful. Nothing wrong with that.” Eric shrugged and sipped his beer. “Maybe. I’m just tired of not knowing where I stand. If he’s not coming back, why doesn’t he just say so?” “Why should he? He’s got the best of both worlds. He gets to play family man with the kid, and he’s got the hot lover waiting for him in the penthouse.” Grinning faintly at the compliment, Eric toyed with a leftover crust. “You’re saying I should make him choose.” “Eh, it’s tricky. On one hand, you’d be a total bastard to ask him to leave his family when they obviously need him so much. But on the other hand, it’s not fair for you to put your

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Overture / D.G. Parker life on hold while he figures out what he wants. Maybe you should start by figuring out what you want.” “What do you mean?” “I mean, do you want him back? Really, honestly, do you miss him, or do you miss being with somebody?” Eric pondered that for a long moment. Why was he having trouble describing his feelings? “Dave was fun,” he finally blurted. “Since he’s gone, there’s no one around who treats me like a normal guy. Maybe that’s what I miss.” “Okay, seriously? I’m sitting here trying not to judge, but every story you just told me makes him sound like a jerk. I could be wrong,” Dante injected hurriedly. “You like that he treats you normal, but some of these jokes sound just plain cruel, is all I’m saying. My mother always said, you can have fun without making fun, and she’s right. In fact, I’m gonna prove it. Put your coat on.” Eric frowned and drained his beer before reaching for his coat. “Where are we going?” Dante had stood and dropped some bills on the table. “Bryant Park. Ever been ice skating?” “Oh yeah, all the time,” Eric replied. “In fact, I was an alternate in the ’98 Olympics.” “Shaddap and put your coat on, Chief. You’re going to have fun if it kills us both.”

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Overture / D.G. Parker

IT didn’t. They rented skates and stowed their shoes in a locker, and Dante gave him a quick pep talk. “It’s no different than walking. You trust me to guide you on land, right? Same basic concept. Hang on to my arm and slide your feet. We’ll go nice and slow.” Eric had his doubts, but he did trust Dante, despite having just met him a few hours ago. He stood and wobbled his way to the rink, clutching desperately to the other man’s arm. “Here we go,” Dante said, and they were on the ice, gliding forward. “That’s it. Match my steps, Chief, just like when we were walking.” Eric spent the first few seconds wind-milling wildly, but his natural good balance soon asserted itself. He fell into synch with Dante almost without effort, a lifetime of being led kicking in. It was a strange, disembodied sensation, slicing through the cold air with the barest of movements. Dante slipped an arm around his waist and clutched him tightly to his side. Eric could feel his heat, could hear his breaths, and changed his own to match. It felt like flying. It went on forever. It ended too soon.

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Overture / D.G. Parker TUCKED back into the cab with a hot chocolate, Eric found the he couldn’t stop smiling. “Okay, that was a lot of fun,” he admitted, nudging the driver’s seat with his shoe. “Told ya. You want fun, I know fun. Where to next?” Eric fumbled for his watch, which informed him it was eight forty-four. “Crap. I need to get back to the hotel.” Dante was silent, just for a second, but Eric thought he could feel the disappointment rolling off of him in waves. “Sure thing, you’ve got a big day tomorrow, right?” Eric made a face. “The concert’s not until eight tomorrow night, but there’s a party before hand. And stage rehearsal, and the stupid tuxedo. Probably other appointments that only Francis knows about. Phillip, I mean.” “Who’s that? Them? Him?” Eric chuckled. “My assistant slash watchdog. I shook him for tonight, but I’m sure come morning he’ll be back on point, shadowing my every movement.” “Sounds fun.” “Not so much, no.” They drove the rest of the way uptown in silence, neither speaking until Dante pulled the cab to a stop. As the driver took a breath to speak, Eric’s door was yanked open and a face moved in close to his. 25

Overture / D.G. Parker “Good evening, Mr. Daystrom! I’m Roger, the doorman.” The man was speaking loudly, enunciating each word as though Eric were hard of hearing or mentally deficient. “We were expecting you sooner.” “Yes. Roger, would you please close the door and give me a minute? Thank you.” Slightly flustered, the doorman did as he was bid, and Eric was alone again with Dante. “I want to thank you, for everything. I had a great time tonight. I didn’t even know how much I needed that.” “I’m glad,” Dante answered softly. “You deserve to have fun. Try and do it more often, okay?” Eric grinned and reached for the door handle, only to pause. “Dante, I’d really like to invite you in, but I’m afraid you’d be bored. I’ve got to practice for a few hours before we… before I can do anything else.” He could hear the smile in the other man’s voice. “I would love to watch you practice. It’s sexy as hell. Let me call the dispatcher and find a parking space, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

IT was one hell of a cozy scene, he had to admit. The big gas fireplace was burning, crackling softly in the background. Eric, changed into worn jeans and an oversized sweater, sat at the piano and ran through his program while Dante curled up on the sofa and sipped a glass of wine. All they

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Overture / D.G. Parker were missing, Eric thought, was a golden retriever, and they could print the scene on a Christmas card. Dante watched and listened in silence, something Eric’s challenged concentration level appreciated. It was only after he finished Ave Maria that the cabbie spoke. “Jesus,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I got a chill.” “Really? It’s actually a fairly simple arrangement, not very challenging.” “Chief, that song isn’t meant to be challenging. It’s meant to stir the soul. I’ve heard it a hundred times, and it always moves me a bit, but never like this. My mother would say you were touched by God.” “Huh.” Dante laughed, shaking off his somber mood. “‘Huh,’ he says. Okay, what’s next? I promise I won’t interrupt again.” Eric sighed and flexed his fingers. “What’s next is the grand finale. Unlike the Ave, this one is tough. You’ve probably heard it before.” He launched into Christmas Eve / Sarajevo 12/24. The arrangement was incredibly complex, challenging as a duet and near impossible for a soloist, but that was what he liked about it. That and the idea of ending his rather traditional program with a modern piece. Dante listened in silence as he played through the minimalist opening bars, then added complexity until it became a counterpoint between melodies. By the time the

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Overture / D.G. Parker last notes faded away, even the fire seemed muted to a respectful hush. “Touched by God,” Dante murmured. Eric lowered the cover over the keys and stood. “I’d rather be touched by you.” Setting down his glass, the cabbie rose and moved eagerly into his arms. Eric trailed his hands up the front of Dante’s shirt, pausing to slide into the open collar and brush the soft hair on his chest. He continued along that path, past Dante’s Adam’s apple and over his stubbled cheeks, across his generous nose and long-lashed eyes, through the coarse, short hair. Dante smelled fantastic, like soap and cedar and sweat. Eric leaned in, caught the faint aroma of dry merlot on his breath, and decided he had to have a taste. Dante groaned into his mouth, clenching his fists into the back of Eric’s sweater. The sound went straight to Eric’s cock. He could have happily kissed Dante all night, but the promise of even better things made him pull back. “Bedroom,” he whispered. Dante took him by the forearms and drew him forward, darting in for frequent soft kisses on the way. They paused just inside the bedroom. “Holy crap!” Eric was confused for a minute. “What? What’s wrong?” “This room’s like a freakin’ palace!”

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Overture / D.G. Parker Laughing, Eric gave him a shove in the direction of the bed. “Hope that means I’m about to get royally screwed!” Dante growled playfully and tossed him onto the overstuffed mattress, straddling him and working his hands up under his sweater. “You’re so hot,” he murmured, trailing kisses up his chest. Pressing a grin against his neck, Dante chuckled. “This is gonna be fun.” “More fun that ice skating?” “Oh yeah. Warmer too.”

ERIC woke up feeling content and lazy, wrapped securely in a pair of hairy arms. He sighed and snuggled deeper into Dante’s embrace, drifting in a pleasant doze despite the light snoring in his ear. His subconscious registered the door to his suite opening and closing, and he grinned thinking about the shock Phillip was in for. But it wasn’t his assistant’s voice that sounded from the bedroom door. “Well, fuck me.” Eric shot upright, his jaw hanging open. “Dave! Shit! What are you doing here?” “I drove all night seeing as how you needed me so much.” There was no mistaking the snide tone in that familiar voice. “I’m guessing you got over that.” 29

Overture / D.G. Parker Eric ran a heavy hand over his face. “Ah, Christ.” He heard Dante push himself into a seated position with a little groan. “Oh boy,” the cabbie muttered. “This is awkward.” “Ya think?” Dave shouted. “Oh, fuck this.” “Wait! Dave, wait!” Eric all but fell out of bed, sweeping a hand across the covers for his clothes. He charged out into the sitting room completely naked and promptly smashed his toes on something hard and heavy. “Ow! Shit! Shit! Shit!” he yelped, hopping on one foot and cradling the other. “Dave, goddammit, don’t leave!” “Why the fuck shouldn’t I?” Dave demanded. “I don’t know why I bothered. All that whining you did about missing me. You probably fucked a guy in every city since I left.” “What? No – Dave, no way. I swear, this was the first time! It was a mistake.” Dave uttered a harsh laugh. “Could you fuck up anymore? Your mistake is standing right behind you, and he looks like I feel.” Eric’s heart sank. “Dante….” “I’m gonna go,” his new lover said quietly amid the rustling of clothes. His voice was slow and stiff with hurt. “You two obviously have a lot to talk about.” “Not really,” Dave shot back.

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Overture / D.G. Parker “Dante, wait. I’m sorry.” “Me too. Talk to your boyfriend, Chief. I hope you can work it out.” Eric moaned, grabbing a fistful of his hair. The door opened and closed Slumped on the nearest chair with his head into his hands, Eric wondered if he was alone. He jumped when a robe was dumped into his lap. “Dave?” “It sure as fuck ain’t Dante.” For a moment neither of them spoke. Eric tried to get his thoughts to settle into some sort of coherent order. “How’d you get in?” he finally asked and immediately wanted to kick himself. That was hardly the most important thing they needed to discuss. “You left my name at the desk. I guess old habits die hard.” “Phillip,” Eric sighed. He’d long ago told his P.A. that Dave was to have access to all hotel rooms in the vague hope his lover would show up. Phillip was too damned efficient. “Who’s that, another fucktoy?” “Dave, enough. You know me better than that.” “I thought I did.”

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Overture / D.G. Parker “Enough!” The roar came straight up out of his gut, surprising both men. For his part, Eric was sick of being on the defensive. He wasn’t entirely sure he was the offending party here. “Look, I’m sorry you had to see that, but I gotta tell you, that was some fucking cosmic coincidence. What are the odds you’d finally show up the one night I hook up with someone?” “I can’t believe you’re gonna try and make this my fault.” “I’m not interested in laying blame. Six months I’ve been alone, waiting for you to make up your fucking mind about where you want to be. You’re back two minutes, and I go and fuck up what could have been something very good. So before you get all indignant, answer me one question. Did you come all the way up here to tell me you’re staying?” Dave was quiet for a long moment. Eric found himself nodding. “That’s what I thought.” When Dave spoke, the righteous anger had bled out of him like helium from a balloon. His voice was heavy with guilt and a little sadness. “I came here to tell you it was over,” he admitted. “I know I haven’t been fair to you, dragging it out like this, hoping you’d take the hint and dump me.” Eric sighed. “Dave. Why?” The other man paced around the room. Eric heard him pause and run his hand over the piano. “When we started, I 32

Overture / D.G. Parker loved the whole experience. The travel, the fancy hotels and restaurants, the interviews. It was exciting. Since I’ve been home, though … I grew up, Eric. I’m ready to settle down. I don’t want to be in a different city every night. I don’t want to own a tuxedo or have paparazzi jumping out at me all the time. In DC, I have a normal job, nice neighbors, a family.” “I never knew you wanted that,” Eric whispered, feeling unaccountably guilty. “Neither did I, until I had it. Look, this isn’t your fault, okay? I would never ask you to give up your life. It suits you, it makes you happy. It just doesn’t make me happy, not anymore.” Dave was before him, dropping to his knees and pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry, babe.” “Me too,” Eric forced out through a tight throat. Dave stood and made his way to the door. “Hey, you should find that Dante guy and make it up to him. You make a cute couple.” The door opened, and Dave paused. “Merry Christmas, Eric.” “Yeah,” he croaked. The door closed once more, and he was truly alone. After a moment, he rose and wrapped himself in the plush hotel bathrobe, then limped over to the balcony door. Outside, he grasped the railing and turned his face to the sky, feeling the cold sting of the first flakes of snow. Sniffing the air, he guessed they were in for a heavy snowfall. But what the hell did he know? He certainly didn’t

33

Overture / D.G. Parker know how to keep a man. He’d gone to sleep with two, sort of, and ten minutes into the day he had none. If he was being honest with himself, the break with Dave was more melancholy than painful. He’d known in his heart that it was over. He’d just needed to hear the last rites, so to speak. Still, there was a strange empty place in his chest where he’d carried Dave with him for so long, and he knew that would take time to heal. As the snow picked up speed, he realized that it was the screw up with Dante that was really bothering him. Had he really called their encounter a mistake? After the driver had gone out of his way to show him a good time, before they ever made it to bed? God, he was stupid. The door opened again. The suite was fucking Grand Central Station this morning. “Hello?” Phillip’s voice called. “Mr. Daystrom, what are you doing outside in the snow?” “I’m pondering titles for my autobiography.” Phillip joined him on the balcony, shivering a bit as he leaned against the rail. “Come up with anything good?” “I’m considering Breakfast.’”

‘Five

Ways

“It’s … alliterative.” “And very fitting today.”

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to

Fuck

Up

Before

Overture / D.G. Parker “Mr. Daystrom,” Phillip said gently, tugging his sleeve. “Come inside. My mother sent some cookies. Not the healthiest breakfast, but it’s better than the drink you look like you need.” Eric sighed and let himself be led in. Phillip settled him at the dining table and pushed the plate of cookies in front of him. After ordering a proper breakfast from room service, the assistant sat down next to him and fidgeted a bit. “You can talk to me, if you want,” he said, his voice nervous but sincere. “I know I haven’t seemed entirely comfortable with the familiarity up until now, but I really do want to help you.” “I really wish you could, Phil. I screwed up something this morning that could have been really nice, with one careless remark. That reminds me, there’ll be no need to get suite access for Dave anymore.” “Oh dear. You and he…?” “Over. It’s been coming for a long time. I met someone else, though, just yesterday. Have you ever met someone that you felt comfortable with instantly? Like you’ve known them all your life instead of a few hours?” “Once or twice. Tell me about him.” Eric did. Over breakfast he poured out the whole adventure, leaving out some of the more sordid details out of respect to poor Phillip’s nerves. “I just wish I had a chance to

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Overture / D.G. Parker explain. To apologize.” When he finished talking, he realized that his assistant was scribbling in his notebook. “Phil?” “I have his name, and the concierge can give me his taxi company. If that doesn’t work, I’ll trace him through the pizza parlor.” “No, Phil, description.”

that’s

definitely

not

part

of

your

job

A cool hand came to rest over his. “I told you,” Phillip replied with a smile in his voice, “I’m here to help. I know it’s hard, but I don’t want you focusing on this today. You concentrate on your performance tonight, and let me worry about your new friend. Just tell me what message you want me to give him.” “Tell him I’m sorry,” Eric said. “Tell him it wasn’t a mistake, and that I hope he’ll give me a chance to make it up to him. And that there’ll be a ticket for him at will-call in case he wants to come and hear the Ave.” “I’ll find him and make sure he knows.” Eric gave Phillip’s hand a squeeze and then let it go. “Let’s hope it’s enough.”

IN spite of the usual performance-day chaos, the day seemed to pass with glacial slowness. Eric recorded some promos for local TV and radio stations in the morning before heading to the hall for rehearsal. He was distracted, and while long 36

Overture / D.G. Parker years of discipline made the right notes come out, his tempo was screwed up, his touch on the keys heavy-handed. His intermediate piano instructor would have said that his playing lacked soul. Old Mister Griffin, what ever happened to him? He was the first teacher to ever tell him it was okay to move with the music, after years of sitting ramrod straight with stiff, aching arms per instruction of Miss Wentworth. And goddamnit, he had wandered off and lost the tempo again. He sighed and gave the keys a discordant smack. His mind had apparently gone with Phillip, who had dropped him there and run off on “errands.” And that left Eric to prepare for a milestone performance, all the while questions were tumbling around in his brain. What if Phillip found him? What if he didn’t? What if Phillip found him, and Dante wouldn’t give him another chance? What if Dante did give him another chance, and he screwed it up again? What if things went great? What then? Eric was only in New York for the next few days, and then it was off to the next stop on the tour. It had taken Dave years to get sick of the lifestyle, would Dante even want to try? Would he take a chance and leave the city he’d grown up in with a virtual stranger? 37

Overture / D.G. Parker God, Eric hated Christmas. He wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow, when the concert was over and the parties were done and he was left alone in his oversized hotel suite with nothing to do but listen to saccharine movies on TV. He hadn’t been on his own for the holidays since the year his mother died – and wasn’t that memory just adding to his happy mood? He gave himself a physical shake and put his hands back on the keys. He would get through the program, and he would do it at the correct tempo, even if he had to send someone out for a fucking metronome. He was a fucking professional, after all.

PHILLIP returned late and handed him his coat. “I don’t mean to rush you,” he said, “but you’ve just about got time to clean up and change before the mayor’s party.” “Dante?” “I’ll fill you in on the way.” Tucked in the back of the nearly soundproof private car, Phillip leaned in close. “Okay. I called the cab company he works for and found out he’s not working today. They wouldn’t give me his home number, even with substantial, let’s call it monetary incentive.” “You bribed them?”

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Overture / D.G. Parker “I tried. Just my luck to find an honest cab company in New York. The good news is, once they figured out he wasn’t in trouble, they agreed to call him at home and on his cell and let him know we’re looking for him. I also went to the pizza place, which is to die for, by the way, and got the same agreement from them. Both places have my cell, so if he calls I’ll know right away.” Dante bit his lower lip. “I guess that’s all we can do.” “Try and think positively. I have a good feeling about it. So much so, in fact, that I bought this.” Phillip pressed a square box into his hand. It was wrapped and topped with a foil bow. “For me?” “No, for him. It’s Christmas and you screwed up, a nice gift is the least you can do. Keep it with you, just in case.” “What is it?” “A very nice watch, not too fancy or expensive. His friends at the pizzeria indicated it would be to his taste.” Eric was nearly overcome with warmth for his assistant. “You really think of everything, Phil. Thank you.” “You’re very welcome, Mr. Daystrom.”

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Overture / D.G. Parker HAD he really ever enjoyed these parties? Tedious, full of the same boring people telling the same boring stories? Everyone wanted to pose for a picture with him, so he was obliged to fake a smile for the better part of the afternoon. At least this party, being in the late afternoon, wasn’t formal dress. He’d have quite enough of wearing a tuxedo later that night. “Eric, sweetie!” He turned toward the familiar voice. “Margie? What are you doing in New York?” “I’m on a layover,” his agent claimed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. As usual, she was wearing just a bit too much perfume, and his sinuses filled with the scent of gardenias. “I’ve got to be back at the airport in less than an hour, so once again I’ll miss your performance. What have you been doing? You look like hell.” Rubbing his face, he ducked his head and gave her the charming smile. “It’s a long story. I’m fine.” “You don’t look fine. You look like ca-ca. It’s a good thing you’ve got a break coming up.” “I do?” “Why do I bother leaving you voicemails? You’ve got nothing between now and the inauguration.” “The what? Wait, Phil said something about that.” Margie heaved a sigh. “I love you. You’re an idiot.” 40

Overture / D.G. Parker “I’ve been getting that a lot lately.” “Phillip has all the details, but you’re in Albany on January third for the inaugural ball, and you’re a free man until then.” “I can stay in New York?” “You can do whatever you want, but try and get some sleep, okay? I gotta go,” she said with another kiss. “Have a good show. And Merry Christmas.” “You too,” he murmured, already lost in thought. If he could just get Dante to give him another chance, he had ten whole days to get to know him and convince him he wasn’t a bastard. For the first time all day, Eric had hope that the holidays wouldn’t totally suck.

A

hours later, that hope was definitely fading. Backstage at Carnegie, his dressing room was filled with people, none of whom were Dante. He’d never understood who these people were or where they came from, but there were some at every show, drinking champagne and mingling while he tried to keep his nerves in check and his mind focused. It was annoying at the best of times. Tonight it was intolerable. He told Phillip to kick them all out. Let them call him a diva. Fuck ’em. FEW

He changed into his tux in the dressing room, now blessedly quiet. Phillip checked him over, straightening his

41

Overture / D.G. Parker bowtie and handsome.”

brushing

off

his

lapels.

“You

look

very

“Thanks, Phil,” he replied half-heartedly, sinking into a chair. “You spending tomorrow with your mom?” “Yes. It’ll be nice to see the family again. You’re welcome to come with me, Mom would be glad to have you.” Eric smiled, but shook his head. “I’m not gonna be great company. Besides, you shouldn’t take your work home with you.” “If you change your mind….” “I promise, I’ll call you.” “All right. I’m going to check out the stage again. I’m a little concerned about the placement of those large potted poinsettias.” “Yeah, wouldn’t do for me to go ass over elbows in front of the whole house, would it?” “Certainly not,” Phillip sniffed in a stuffy tone that Eric was only now identifying as facetious. “You have about twenty minutes, and then I’ll come back and escort you to the wings.” “Okay, Phil. And thanks. For everything.” The assistant’s voice softened. “It is absolutely my pleasure. Eric.”

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Overture / D.G. Parker Grinning, Eric settled back in his chair and pleaded with his brain to focus. Finally, thank God, it agreed and began to run through the first few measures of his opening piece. His hands twitched lightly on his thighs as the music ran through his head. He was still a bit concerned about the counterpoint in Sarajevo and wished his rehearsal had been a bit more productive. Dante was right – the way to get to Carnegie Hall was to practice. He was so absorbed in his mental preparation that he barely heard the knock. “Come in,” he called. “Is it time already?” The door opened and quietly closed. “Phil says we have a few minutes.” Eric stood, his heart hammering so hard he wondered if Dante could actually see it. “You came,” he whispered. “Your assistant’s a pretty persuasive guy. He, uh, tells me things didn’t go so well with Dave.” “Actually, they went okay. He decided he didn’t want to follow me around the world anymore, and I decided I’m okay with that.” Dante had moved closer. Eric heard the slide of hands into jacket pockets. “So I guess everything worked out okay.” “Not everything.” Eric licked his lips. How had he spent all day thinking about this moment, and still not come up with anything intelligent to say? “I wanted to tell you I’m

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Overture / D.G. Parker sorry for what I said. You and me, that wasn’t a mistake. That was wonderful. You’re wonderful. Please don’t tell me I screwed things up for good in a moment of panic.” “I don’t know,” Dante sighed. “I just don’t know what’s going on inside your head. Do you really want me or do you just not want to be alone?” “Can I tell you something without sounding like a selfimportant prick? I get plenty of offers. If all I wanted was company, I could get it pretty quickly. But I learned early on that the groupies and hangers-on don’t do it for me. I want someone who can forget about the blindness, forget about the so-called talent, and just treat me like a man. And that is a whole lot harder to find.” Eric took a step in the direction he’d last heard Dante’s voice. “I’m sorry I was stupid. Can you forgive me?” Dante moved into his personal space with a little sigh. “What the hell. I’m not usually at my best first thing in the morning, either. I like you, Eric. Let’s give it a shot and see where it takes us.” “Thank you,” Eric murmured, moving in for a kiss. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Dante groaned a little and reached for him, only to stop short. “Crap, I don’t want to muss you up here.” “After the show, you can muss me all night,” Eric laughed.

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Overture / D.G. Parker “That reminds me. I’ve got a little gift for you.” Dante took Eric’s hand and turned it palm-up, dropping what felt like a chain inside it. Eric ran his fingers over the small embossed medallion. “It’s a Saint Christopher medal,” Dante explained. “He protects travelers. I think. Actually, he might not even be a saint anymore, though that doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you can take back once you give it. Anyway, I thought it might keep you safe on the road and remind you what a blessing your gift is. Sort of a double whammy.” Eric smiled. “Thank you. I’d put it on if this tie wasn’t so tight. Damn penguin suit,” he bitched, slipping the medal into the ticket pocket of his vest. “You look sexy as hell in that penguin suit,” Dante countered. “I’m gonna enjoy peeling it off you later.” “This is gonna be a fast concert. Oh, I almost forgot, I have a gift for you here somewhere.” He groped around the dressing table in search of the box, even as a knock sounded at the door and Phillip called his name. “Dammit. Later,” he promised, stealing another kiss. Then he went back for another one, a little longer this time. “I really have to go.” “You really do. Oh, one other thing. My mother says to bring you home for Christmas dinner tomorrow or else.” “Or else what?” “I’ve always been afraid to ask,” Dante admitted. “Go, have a great concert. Phillip gave me a ticket, I’ll be out there watching. ” 45

Overture / D.G. Parker Eric moved to the door, but paused. “You’ll be here when I’m done?” Dante’s hand closed around his own and gave it a light squeeze. “I’ll be here.” Grinning, Eric left the room and let Phillip lead him to the wings. He was still grinning when he was introduced and made his way to the piano, resting his left hand on it and taking a short bow. And when he began to play, for the first time in a long, long time, he felt the music instead of merely playing the notes. And when he played the Ave, he felt the stirring of his soul.

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Overture / D.G. Parker

D.G. PARKER spends her days posing as a mild-mannered hospital administrator in upstate New York. Her alter ego has been reading and writing voraciously since childhood and dreams of one day publishing the Great American Novel. She's taken her pen name from the very quotable Dorothy Parker, who reminds us all that you can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think.

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Overture / D.G. Parker Other titles by D.G….

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Overture / D.G. Parker

©Copyright D.G. Parker, 2008 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Dan Skinner/Cerberus Inc. [email protected] Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America December, 2008

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