Love Beyond Words (City Lights, #1)(61)

“You’re the boss,” Len said but David could hear his ear-to-ear smile.

Julian must have too. “Nothing crazy, Len. I mean it.”

“It is what it is, Julian.”

“I’m not a movie star.” Julian neatly folded his omelet and slid it onto a plate.

“In the literary world you are.”

“Toni Morrison is a star,” Julian said. “Gabriel García Márquez was a star, Dios tenga en su Gloria.” He crossed himself. “Cormac McCarthy, J.K. Rowling...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Your humility is giving me a headache,” Len chuckled. “So what’s the ETA on the book? One month? Two?”

“I’m not sure,” Julian said. “Maybe a month before I can send you anything, at least.”

Len’s sigh sounded like a small hiss. “You torture me, Julian. You really do.”

“Cry it out on the yacht Coronation bought you.”

The two men laughed. David felt as though it was at his expense. They said their good-byes and Julian sat down to eat his omelet and read the newspaper—the newspaper David had thoughtfully left on his desk that morning. Because he cared.

Like an actor doing a second take, he snuck back down the hall, opened and closed his office door loudly, and came into the living room.

“Good morning,” Julian beamed but if faded as David approached. “Are you feeling all right? You look a little gray.”

“It’s nothing,” David muttered. “Or maybe something,” he said, thinking of what he needed to do. “Maybe I should go home so as not get you sick too.”

“Go home so you can get better. Don’t worry about me,” Julian said. He wasn’t afraid of illness, never had been. He never gets sick. Ever. David’s blood curdled at the unfairness of it all.

“Here are the charity donation statements you asked for,” he said dully, holding out the papers. “I found three months’ worth, but I can get more if you want to see them.”

A pained look flitted over Julian’s face. He hardly glanced at the papers, let alone made a move to take them out of David’s hand. “Go home, David. Get some rest. If there’s anything you need, please call me.”

Magnanimous this morning, aren’t we? David sneered. Julian could afford to be. He was successful, wealthy, loved and in love, and about to become famous to those who cared about such literary things. But a shard of fear cut through David’s self-pity when he thought of what would happen to Julian should he reveal himself. The danger… He instantly felt terrible for mocking him.

“Yes, maybe I’ll do that. I’ll go home and rest.” He hoped the sweat that had broken out on his forehead appeared symptomatic.

“Thank you, David,” Julian said, “for all your hard work. And for forgiving me for not going to you directly over this whole thing. You’re a better friend to me than I have been to you.”

David muttered something noncommittal, and moved as quickly as he thought plausible for someone coming down with the flu. Outside, he revved his Audi and tore down the streets. He felt like vomiting. The irony made him want to cry.

David slowed his car down long before arriving at Orbit, the dread taking the urgency out of him. He rolled into the small parking lot behind the club, mindful of the glittering puddles of shattered glass that menaced his tires every time.

Cliff’s third-in-command, Jesse—his cousin or nephew or some such—answered his knock at the back door.

David had always thought Jesse should have been a cop or firefighter, someone in uniform. A blond, good-looking man in his mid-twenties; he had the appearance and charisma of someone competent and sharp, who watched the world through weary-beyond-his-years blue eyes, as if there were too much to fix and not enough time to fix it all.

“What do you want?” Jesse asked. “Is it delivery day already?”

“No,” David said, drawing himself up. “Is Cliff here? I need to speak with him.”

Jesse peered over David’s shoulder, nodded once, and opened the door. “Make it quick. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be seen hanging around here.”

“I agree.” David followed Jesse along the dimly lit hallway, their footsteps clapping on cheap linoleum. “If you three would leave me and Rafael alone, you wouldn’t have to see me here ever again.”

Jesse didn’t say anything.

The hallway was short and dingy, with scuffed white-walled paneling and fluorescent lighting that cast a greenish tinge to everything. Three doors opened on tiny offices and a storage space on side. On the left, there was one door and that led, after a longer corridor, to the public restrooms and then the club. At the end of this hallway, was Cliff’s office. The door was closed. Before Jesse could knock, David took his arm.

“Help me, Jesse,” he pleaded. “You’ve always seemed like a good guy. Help me convince Cliff to end this. It’s getting bad. I’m afraid…”

“Let go of my arm.”

“Please. This is getting dangerous and you know it.”

Jesse seemed to hesitate.

“It can’t go on forever,” David prodded. “You know that. You’re the only one who knows that, I think.”

The other man looked up at him and pity flashed behind his eyes. But then he said, “It’s not my decision to make. Talk to Cliff.” He knocked on the door while David sagged.