Page 15 of Sin Deep
“I’ve traveled quite a bit, and I’ve been in lots of cities, but New York is unique. I love to visit Paris and Rome, Amsterdam, they’re all interesting places but I’m glad I live here.” He’d do whatever he could to convince Harley to stay in New York, but he knew the risks. Many young men didn’t like to stay put.
“I’ve been all over Texas and to Mexico and New Orleans, but this is the first place I went…wow, you know?”
“Oh, I don’t believe that. Really? New Orleans is a wonderful place.” There was a reason he enjoyed Mardi Gras.
“It is. I used to go a lot, then…well, I had a weird experience, and I haven’t been back.”
He glanced at Harley, wondering if he’d get an answer if he asked what that meant. He was curious, so he decided to try. “Weird?”
“So…it’s embarrassing, a little. I got my palm read, and the lady freaked me out, telling me I was cursed and all. She wanted money, and I know it was a con, but…it was scary. I was stupid.”
They turned a corner, and it was only a few steps to his building. “Psychics can be unnerving. What exactly was your supposed curse?”
“She said I’d lose everything, that there was a demon chasing me and making me do evil, perverse things.” Harley shook his head. “I’m a butthead, but I’m not evil.”
“No, Harley. You’re not evil.” They climbed the steps to the front door and Winter pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. “You’re just queer. But there are lots of people who think they are the same thing.”
“Yeah. Trust me, this I understand on a bone-deep level.” Harley winked, eyes twinkling. “If I was evil, I’d have stayed in San Saba.”
He laughed. “So true. Go on in, I’m at the back of the building and up two flights.”
“That’s not bad! I’m in a fourth-floor walk-up. I tell you what, by the end of a long day at work, I’m pooped.”
He didn’t mind the couple of flights, he needed the exercise, but four would be a challenge. He followed Harley up the steps but squeezed by him when they reached the top so he could unlock his door. All three locks.
“After you. I wasn’t expecting visitors, so you’ll forgive the disorder. Not that it’s terribly orderly even when I am expecting someone.” He hadn’t expected anyone but repairmen in ages. Years maybe.
“I’m crazy excited to…” Harley walked in, eyes wide, taking in the books and the knickknacks, the art and glass and pottery and furniture. God, was it horrifying? Off-putting? Ridiculous? “Oh, man. This looks like ahome.”
Winter closed the door and locked it. “It is that. This is the living room. My study through there is much more comfortable.” And less cluttered too. God, he was embarrassed, but there wasn’t any point to hiding who he was from Harley.
“It’s great. So much to explore. All the books!” Harley clapped. “And you have a study? I’ve never met a person with a study.”
“I call it my study. It’s a den I suppose. It’s where I spend most of my time.” He led Harley down the short hall to the study. “I love it during the day especially. It gets so much light and there’s a little balcony outside those doors. You’ll have to see it in the daylight sometime.” He turned on his desk lamp. “What would you like to drink? Brandy? Glass of wine? Irish cream?”
“Irish cream. I’ve never tried brandy or very much wine. Just Boone’s Farm, you know?”
“Boone’s Farm? Is that local? Have a seat. Irish cream it is. Over ice?” He gestured to a soft leather couch at one end of the room, then went to his small bar behind his desk.
Harley sat with a soft sigh, wiggling in. “Please, and it’s the stuff high schoolers drink at bonfires. You know…three buck Chuck?”
“Ah yes.” That made him laugh as he poured two drinks. “I’m old enough to remember when it was two buck Chuck.” Not that he ever drank it himself, but it was popular for sure.
“How old are you? I’m twenty-five in March.”
So young. He handed Harley his drink and paced back to lean on his desk. “I’ll be forty on the fifteenth.” Less than two weeks away from the end of one decade and the beginning of another.
Harley’s eyes went wide. “So soon! I’m glad I know. I will buy you a cupcake or a cronut or a…a…what are those Italian desserts that are so sexy… Oh! Cannolis!”
He did enjoy a cannoli. “You’re very sweet. Thank you. But I don’t usually celebrate my birthday.”
“No? Can I ask why or is that not my business? I mean, obviously it’s not my business.” Harley blushed, and it was surprisingly charming. “But I guess I mean, do you not want me to ask?”
“You may ask anything you like. If I don’t want to answer I’ll simply say so. But in this case it’s just a very mundane answer. The day I was born doesn’t mean anything to anyone but me. The people I was born to didn’t care, and very few people since have either. Birthdays aren’t fun to celebrate alone.” And he’d had a lot of them now too.
“I care!” Harley stood up and came right to him. “I know I don’t know you, but how could anyone not care? That’s awful! I will celebrate you, I promise.”
How ironic. He should correct Harley, who in fact knew him better at this moment than most people at the club. Better than anyone but the older members anyway. He hadn’t told anyone the story about changing his name or talked about his birthday; he hadn’t had anyone in his home that he cared about at all in far too long.
