Aria (18 page)

been about to head home—Aiden would be arriving in about an hour— but he knew Peggy had already left, so he’d picked up the call. “Sam, this is Jacob Altman.”
“How are you, Your Honor?” Sam sat straighter in his chair. It was unusual to receive a call from a judge, and Judge Altman was one of the most highly respected federal judges around.
“Please, call me Jacob,” the other man said. “This call isn’t about a case, and there’s no need for formality.”
“Of course. What can I do for you, Jacob?”

Sam nodded. “They’re a lot like federal judges in what they do. It’s not a lifetime appointment, though. Just for an eight-year term.”
“Shit, Sam, that’s great. You’ve always wanted to be a judge.”
“It’s only an interview.” Sam had said the same thing to Stacey an hour before. “And even if that goes well, all the district judges need to vote on me.”
“But to even be considered for the position is wonderful.”
“Yeah. And they often look to magistrates when they’re floating names to Congress for vacant judgeships. But I wouldn’t read too much into it. I’ll still have to make it past all the interviews and win enough votes from the other judges.” Sam took a sip of his wine, more to steady himself than anything else. He knew he couldn’t let himself get too excited about his prospects. The chances of an openly gay man getting the job were pretty slim, not to mention the fact that Sam was relatively young for the position.
“You’re selling yourself short.” Aiden brushed his hand over Sam’s, and he smiled broadly. “You’re really good, and you know it. You’d make a terrific judge. It’d probably mean better hours for you than at the firm.” This was true, Sam knew. “How about the pay?”
“Federal jobs pay well,” Sam said, “although it wouldn’t be near as much as my share of the firm’s profits. But it’s not like I need the money at this point, either. I’ve got plenty stashed away, and the apartment’s paid for.”
“So what’s the downside?”
“I don’t know.” Sam took another drink of his wine and felt the tension in his shoulders and neck ease a bit. “Less flexibility in my schedule, maybe?”
“We’ll be fine, Sammy. You’d still get vacations, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“You have to pursue this, and you know it. We can work things out. I’ll work my schedule around yours. This is too good to pass up.”
Sam took a deep breath and forced a smile. Maybe Aiden was right—it was something Sam had always wanted. Something he’d hoped for since he’d started practicing law. They’d be able to coordinate their time off.
Aiden stood up and put Sam’s empty plate atop his own. Sam began to protest, but Aiden said, “Nope. My turn. You cooked, remember?”
“Thanks.” Sam watched as Aiden took the dishes into the kitchen. A few moments later, he heard the water running in the sink. He took another deep breath and refilled his glass of wine.
He’s right. It’ll be fine.
So why was his gut so tense? And why did he feel as though this was a huge mistake? He got up and went into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around Aiden’s waist and kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, you,” Aiden said as he scrubbed one of the pots.
“Hey. It’s good to have you home.” He put his head on Aiden’s shoulder and sighed audibly.
For a moment Aiden was silent, though Sam noticed that he had stopped scrubbing and seemed to be staring down at the soapy water. Sam waited for Aiden to speak. When he did, Aiden’s usually confident voice sounded tentative.
“Sammy?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay with this?”
“Okay with what?”
“With me traveling so much.”
What other choice is there?
It’d be selfish of him to force Aiden to turn down work, and the last thing he wanted was for Aiden to resent him for interfering in his career. “Of course I’m okay with it.”
“I was thinking that maybe I’d ask Chuckie to free up a few more weeks… you know… so that I’d be home for longer in between gigs. Maybe skip some of the master class stuff I’ve used to fill in the empty slots in my schedule.”
“But that wouldn’t be fair to you.”
It’s not like you assign more cases to other attorneys so your schedule is free when he’s home.
He was surprised that he hadn’t even considered it. He made a mental note to talk to Stacey about cutting back a little. They had plenty of associates who could cover for him.
“I worry sometimes. That’s all.” Sam felt Aiden’s body tense with these words.
“I love you, Aiden.” Sam nuzzled Aiden’s cheek. “Of course I want you around more. But I knew what I was getting into when I asked you to move in.” Sam hoped he sounded more convinced than he was.
Aiden turned around and, clearly forgetting he’d been doing the dishes, took Sam’s face in his wet, soapy hands. “I love you, Sam,” he said. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”
“I don’t.” It was the truth. At least in that moment, it was the truth.

later as they went over the billing reports in Sam’s office. Sam hated this part of the job, but the accountant couldn’t make the decisions about bonuses and case assignments.

“Sometime in the next few months. I have to make the rounds. Talk to the judges who want to interview me. Then they’ll vote.” He swirled his coffee around in his mug and stared absentmindedly at the paper in his hand.

“So how’s Aiden?” she asked.
“He’s good. Left yesterday for London.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“What’s that look for?” He didn’t have the patience for this, not

“Just that I asked how Aiden was, and the first thing you tell me is that he’s gone again.”
“He’s an opera singer, Stace. That’s what he does. Travels around and sings.”
“And you stay home.”
“Right.”
“Sammy,” she said, putting her feet up on his desk and sighing theatrically, “you look miserable.”
“I’m not—”
“I know you too well, Sammy. Don’t bullshit me.”
“Relationships are difficult,” he replied with keen irritation.
“Yeah. They are. So what are you doing about making it
less
difficult?”
“The usual. Spending time together, that sort of thing. The things you do when you live together.”
“What about when he’s away?”
“What about it?” He shrugged. “We talk on the phone. Skype sometimes. E-mail. The usual.”
“Why not visit him?”
“You mean in Europe?” Sam frowned when she nodded. “He’s working. I’d be in the way.”
“Have you asked him if you’d be in the way?”
Sam stood up. “Look, I know you want to help. We’ll be fine. It’s always a little rocky at the beginning. It was with Nicky too.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember it that way. You and Nick fit perfectly, right from the start. At least that’s what you always told me.”
“Are you saying that since Aiden and I have…” He hesitated, trying to find the right word. “… challenges, that this relationship is a mistake?”
“Are you serious?” She glared at him. “Look, Sammy, I like Aiden. And you obviously love each other. Don’t play dumb.”
Sam said nothing.
“Sam,” she said, tapping her pen against a piece of paper, “I know I’m hardly the relationship guru here. Hell knows my track record with men isn’t great. But I know that if you don’t talk about things, they just get worse.”
Sam knew she was right. When had he and Aiden talked about their relationship? If he felt like things between them could be better, Aiden probably felt the same.
“Maybe you’re right.”
She laughed and shook her head.
“Okay, okay. You’re always right. It’s why I haven’t strangled you yet even though you’ve made me look like an idiot.” He stood up and refilled his cup of coffee. “I was thinking maybe I’d ease up a bit on my caseload so I can spend more time with Aiden when he’s in town. Maybe assign some of the bigger cases to Yvette. She’s been chomping at the bit for more responsibility, and she was great on the Harvest case last month.”
“Works for me. Do it. Don’t just talk about it. But talk to him, Sammy. Before things get too difficult. Tell him you’re having problems with the way things are. He’ll understand. You can work it out. I know you can.”
He headed for the door and waved dismissively. “Okay, okay. I’ll talk to him. Promise.”
“And if you ever want some real time off, you know it’s fine,” she called after him as he walked out of the room.

Aiden pressed his cell phone between his chin and his shoulder, sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, and poured himself some coffee. He’d been in London for only a few days after the stopover in Philadelphia with Sam. It had been too short a visit with Sam, as always, but it had been a great one. They’d spent most of their free time in bed. No cooking, strictly takeout. After the conversation in the kitchen, the visit had gone a long way to reassuring Aiden that Sam wouldn’t be scared off so easily.

I have to believe him when he says it’s okay
.
He hadn’t planned on stopping in London before he flew to Rome, but David had offered to help coach him on the role of Scarpia in Puccini’s
Tosca
. It was an offer Aiden couldn’t refuse. A few days wouldn’t matter as much this time, since after Rome he’d be headed back to Philly for a full three weeks. He was already thinking of the things he and Sam could do with that much time together.
Museums, long walks, fucking….
“Don’t call me Chuckie,” Aiden’s agent chastised. “So tell me about the Paris gig. Did you make me proud?”
Aiden snorted. “If you mean will they hire me again, I think it’s an unequivocal yes. They’ll probably be calling you about a
Manon
soon.”
“Massenet?”
“Do you really see a Parisian opera house performing the Italian version? No.
Manon.
En français.”
“I’m glad to see you’re getting cast in more of the villain roles. Means they’re seeing your flexibility as an actor.”
“They’re not bad guys. They’re misunderstood.”
“Right.” Charles laughed. “That’s what they all say.”
“To tell you the truth, I’m looking forward to that
Falstaff
you were talking about. At least he’s a funny villain and he doesn’t get stabbed to death by the soprano. Where’s the contract?”
“That’s part of why I called.”
“Need my okay?”
“No.” Chuck Ritter drew an audible breath. “Seems like we’ve run into a little problem with the Scotland gig.”
“What kind of problem? Don’t tell me the company went bankrupt. I’ve been hearing about too many—”
“Not bankrupt. I got a call today from the artistic director of the company telling me they aren’t interested in you.”
“What?”
“You heard me right. They said they aren’t interested.”
“But
they
were the ones who contacted
you
about having me sing the role.” Aiden put down his coffee and frowned. It would have been his first opportunity to perform the opera, and he’d been looking forward to it.
“Yep.”
“What’s going on, Chuck? This is the third time you’ve told me about something and it didn’t pan out.”
Aiden stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the clouds that had begun to descend over the city. It would rain soon—the cold, damp rain Aiden hated. Italy couldn’t come soon enough.
“I was hoping you could tell
me
.”
“Me?”
“Have you pissed anyone off?”
“No. I told you, I’ve learned my lesson. No more Hollywood starlets or Italian pop divas.” He hadn’t meant to sound so defensive, but it still irked him that he had fucked up so royally with Alexandria.
“Married women?”
Aiden’s jaw clenched. “No. I told you. It was a huge fucking mistake, and not one I’m likely to repeat.”
Not to mention the fact that I didn’t do anything with her.
“Sorry, Aiden, you know I had to ask.”
“I know.” He wasn’t angry with Chuck, he was angry with himself. He’d been stupid. Taken chances. Between the confrontation with Cam in Paris and the photo with Alexandria….
Fucking Cam!
Of course he was behind this. He had to be.
“Look,” Chuck said, “it’s probably nothing. Just a fluke. Maybe they found someone cheaper, or maybe some benefactor had a nephew she wanted to see in the role. You never know. And the others—Aiden, you know this stuff always happens. People change their minds, productions don’t happen.”
“Yeah.”
Only not this often.
“So how’s the
Tosca
coming?”
“Great.” Aiden rubbed his neck and tapped his foot against the ancient radiator under the window. “Listen, Chuck, I gotta run. Can I call you back tomorrow? There’s something I need to do.”
“I… ah… sure. No worries.” Aiden ignored the hesitation in the other man’s voice. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“You too, Chuckie.”
“Don’t call me—”
Aiden disconnected the call, went to the table, and opened his laptop. He googled “Cameron Sherrington” and the name of the Scottish company. There was nothing he could find to connect the two. Sherrington Holdings hadn’t given the company any money that he could tell, and there were no mentions of Cam in Edinburgh. It didn’t look as though Cam had ever been to the city.
Fucking hell….
He leaned back against the sofa and was about to close his eyes when his cell rang again.
“Look, Chuckie,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m—”
“Aiden?”
Aiden nearly dropped the phone. “Sam? Shit, I thought you were Chuck.”
“If this is a bad time,” Sam began, “I can call back.”
“Do you mind? I’ll give you a call later, after dinner.”
“Sure.” Aiden thought he heard disappointment in Sam’s voice, then dismissed it as being his overactive guilt at work. He needed to do a little research—to figure out what Cam was up to. Then he’d call Sam back.
“Great. Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later, then?”
“Yep. Later.” Sam disconnected the call before Aiden could say,
I love you.
Aiden took a deep breath, then went back to the computer search he’d been working on.
Dammit, Cam. What the fuck are you doing?