Drawn Together (5 page)

Rory cursed the intense and powerful attraction he felt for Ran Yamane’s work, and he cursed the man himself. He placed the sketchbook in his pilot case carefully and left it in the room, wondering what movies the Expo would be showing that night.

* * * * *

Rory entered the Terrace Theater after showing his badge to the Expo staff at the door.

The facility itself interested him; he liked its elegant carpeted stairways and soaring ceilings.

As he was waiting for the current film to end, he scanned the crowd looking for Yamane. There were doors on the ground floor and two ramps, one leading up and one leading down. Rory looked over the balustrade of one of the ramps and saw Yamane talking to a man just outside of the men’s restroom. They seemed to be having a quiet conversation.

Rory didn’t want to intrude but wasn’t too proud to admit that he wanted to eavesdrop.

Before he could stop himself, he was taking the stairs down. Crouching casually behind the solid banister near where the two men were talking, he could listen without being seen.

He sighed. I am going straight to hell.

“So, where is your little puppy now?” the man with Yamane asked. “Do you think you scared him off for good, or do you think he’ll still take advantage of your generosity? I know what I’d do.” Damn, Rory thought, are they talking about me?

“I don’t know. I’m sorry I ever told you about it. I forgot what a prick you are,” said Yamane.

“How could you ever forget that?” his friend purred. “Come on, Yamane, you have to come with me. Who cares? Let the kid sleep.”

“I told you I don’t want to; it’s been years since I’ve seen you.”

“It doesn’t seem like it to me. As soon as I saw you again, I wanted you. For me, it was yesterday. I’ll never forget how you look when you…” Rory strained to hear, but apparently the man whispered the rest.

Drawn Together

25

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, back off. I didn’t come here to be pawed by you.”

“Even if you didn’t come here for this, can’t you think of it as a perk? How about I get room service to send up a bottle of cognac and we talk about old times? Remember the time you drew the Snoggs on my --”

“I said stop touching me. I came here to see the movie.” Rory could hear the irritation in Yamane’s voice.

“Don’t go. I promise I’ll be really, really --”

“Take your hands off of me,” Yamane hissed. “Let me go.” Rory couldn’t stand it anymore. He rose to his feet and swung over the barrier, dropping down about six feet to land right behind them. He snatched Yamane away from the stunned man who had hold of him and pulled him in so Yamane’s back pressed against his chest.

“Did you have to wait long, cher?” he asked in his most outlandish Louisiana drawl. “I am sorry. I was detained.”

“Who the hell are you?” demanded Yamane’s friend.

“Why, I’m Rory Delaplaines, and I believe I’ll be sensei’s ‘boy toy’ for the evening.

Perhaps you should look for a more willing companion, sir. Tastes do change, do they not?

Sometimes, happily, for the better.” He pressed his lips to the side of Yamane’s neck for emphasis, keeping his eyes firmly on Yamane’s “friend.” Rory had the awful feeling he sounded like that big southern chicken in the cartoons, and he had trouble hiding a smirk. He noticed that Yamane’s skin was soft and smelled really, really good. Delicious.

Sputtering, the obnoxious man left, and Rory let Yamane go. Holding his hands behind his back and hanging his head, he said, “I was eavesdropping. I should probably feel bad about that, but I don’t.”

Yamane said nothing, just touched a hand to his neck where Rory’s lips had been pressed.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. But I find it hard to believe that you’ll be my ‘boy toy’ this evening.” Rory rolled his eyes. “Poetic license,” he admitted.

“A knight,” Yamane whispered.

“One must save the sacred maidens.” Rory looked away. “I got your gift. It’s beautiful.

I’ll treasure it.”

“Thank you.” Yamane headed back up the stairs to the ground floor with Rory following. “I didn’t imagine I’d ever see you again. I left your things in the hotel room and came here so you could escape with your dignity intact.”

“My dignity is still intact,” muttered Rory.

26 Z. A. Maxfield

“Alas, thanks to Peter, you know that mine is not.”

“How do you figure that?”

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know I’m not the first man you’ve ever written on.”

“Well.” Yamane grimaced and continued walking away. “Then I guess you know I…have relationships with men.”

Rory caught Yamane’s hand to stop him. “That ship kind of sailed when you put your tongue in my mouth, Ran-sensei.” Rory raised his eyebrows.

Yamane blanched. “Can we go get a drink somewhere? Do you mind missing the movie?”

Rory thought about that. “I only came here to find you,” he admitted carefully. He tried not to flinch under Yamane’s searching gaze.

“I thought you would be halfway home by now,” said Yamane as they left the theater together.

“You mentioned that. Should I leave?” asked Rory, kicking another abandoned cigarette butt aside. “Man, I hate it when people use the street as an ashtray.” Yamane took out his pretty gold lighter and cigarettes. “May I smoke?”

“No.”

“I see.” Yamane stopped. “Then how about we make a trade? Every time I want to smoke, you stop me by kissing me.”

Rory almost tripped. “Uh --”

Snick. Yamane lit his cigarette. “Problem solved.”

“Just don’t drop your nasty butt in the street.” Yamane just stared implacably. They stood watching the traffic on Pine Avenue. He finished his cigarette in silence, carefully putting it out in a planter before throwing it in a trash can. They entered the hotel lobby together and found the Lobby Bar, which exuded an airport lounge ambience.

“This isn’t very attractive,” Yamane said, looking at his watch. “Are you very tired?”

“I haven’t slept much,” Rory admitted. “I drove a long way.”

“What would you like to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having,” answered Rory with a smile.

Yamane went to the bar and said something to the bartender. A moment later, he motioned Rory over. “He’d like to see your ID.” Rory produced his wallet and got his drink, which turned out to be bourbon. As they were carrying them back to the table, he said, “At home, all you have to do is prove you can hold a paper cup.”

Drawn Together

27

“I’ve never been to New Orleans,” said Yamane. “Perhaps someday I’ll visit you there.” They set their drinks on the table.

“Oh, I can see my grandmother now.” Rory threw his hands in the air, waved them around, and said in an agitated falsetto, “Oh, Claude! Oh, Claude! Rory has done brought home a Japanese man! Somebody get me the salts.” Yamane looked away. “I can see where that might be a problem.” Rory briefly touched Yamane’s hand. “Nevertheless, I would be delighted.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I can show you all the best places.” His eyes clouded with sadness. “The ones that are still standing. Po’ boys, pirates, and luscious white-trash junk food like you’ve never imagined.”

Yamane considered him. “What can I be,” he asked lightly, “now that I can’t be your sacred maiden?”

Rory thought about that for a long time while the warmth of the bourbon permeated his heart and spread to his fingertips. He clinked his ice around a little in his glass. “Perhaps you’re still my sacred maiden.”

“Seriously,” said Yamane. He toyed with his own drink. “Now, what does that mean, I wonder?”

Rory yawned surreptitiously. “When you find out, I sincerely hope I will be the first person you inform.”

Rory watched as Yamane walked to the bartender and -- somehow -- retrieved the entire bottle of bourbon from him. He came back to the table and put on his coat before picking up his messenger bag.

“Bring your drink,” he told Rory.

They walked together to the elevators, pressing the button for the third floor. If anyone thought it odd that they carried their drinks and an entire bottle of bourbon, no one said anything. When they got off the elevator, Rory used his room key to open the door and crossed the room to the window.

“Damn,” he said. “It doesn’t open. I hoped there was a balcony.” A little unsteady on his feet, he turned around and plopped down in the corner where he’d napped that afternoon. “I wanted to sleep on a balcony and watch the sun rise.”

“You’d have a bit of a wait. Where you’re looking it doesn’t rise; it sets,” Yamane informed him. “Surely you’d rather sleep in the bed.” He took off his coat. “There are two.

Safety in numbers.”

“I’m fine,” mumbled Rory. He stuffed his messenger bag under his head.

28 Z. A. Maxfield

“At least take a pillow.” Yamane pulled a couple of pillows off the bed and took them to Rory. Getting their drinks, he sat down cross-legged near Rory’s head with his back against the wall. “I brought your drink, if you want it.” He handed it over.

Rory sat up a little. “Nice. Thank you. It’s been rather a long day.”

“Yes, it has. Pee-wee’s big adventure.”

“Do you mind dimming the lights a little?”

“I don’t mind.” Yamane got up to turn off all but the light in the bathroom. “That okay?”

“Thank you.” Rory was drifting. Yamane sat back down next to him. Rory could hear the ice rattle in his glass as he sipped his drink.

Rory briefly opened his eyes and found Yamane looking at him curiously. “What are you looking at?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Yamane lightly brushed a ribbon of hair back from Rory’s face. “I have no idea at all.”

Drawn Together

29

Chapter Five

Rory was the first to open his eyes as a hazy morning light found its way through the window. It illuminated Yamane, who was lying with his head pillowed on Rory’s stomach.

Rory tried to assess his feelings about the unusual sleeping arrangement, but his mouth was dry and his head fuzzy. He shifted slightly, causing the sleeping Yamane to move with him.

Yamane’s hair swept over Rory’s skin. Due to an embarrassing case of morning wood, Rory kept his body as still as possible.

In spite of waking up with a man using him as a pillow, he was disinclined to move. It gave him the opportunity to look closely at Yamane. The contours of his face were an amazing blend of his Caucasian and Japanese heritage. The two mixed like sugar and cream on his skin, producing a faintly olive, satiny-smooth complexion with the lightest hint of freckling across the bridge of his nose. The shape of his face, his cheekbones, and jaw, were definitely Western, while his dark eyes had the almond shape of his Japanese forebears. He had eyebrows that went up like wings and a full, wide mouth with a lower lip that was larger than the perfectly bow-shaped upper one. He was an amazing combination of extremely feminine features that produced a rare masculine beauty. Bishonen in the truest sense of the word.

What is wrong with me? Why am I not halfway home right now with that sketchbook in my backpack? Crap, crap, crap.

Rory reached out a hand and carefully slid the elastic off Yamane’s hair, freeing it from its braid. He casually combed his fingers through the long strands, finding it surprisingly silky and finer than he thought it would be. He was rubbing it gently between his thumb and forefinger when he looked up to find Yamane’s eyes open, watching him.

Yamane’s eyes fluttered closed. “Oh, bother.” 30 Z. A. Maxfield

Rory wound the silken strands around his fist, pulling Yamane’s head toward him.

Yamane opened his eyes again as Rory literally reeled him into an embrace. Rory placed his hands on either side of Yamane’s face, still holding his hair. He brought Yamane so close their lips were only inches apart, but he remained frozen, unable to complete the kiss and unwilling to let Yamane go.

Alarm flickered in Yamane’s eyes and he broke Rory’s hold on him, scrambling out of his embrace and rising unsteadily to his feet. “Whoa!” He walked to the bathroom. “Get thee behind me, straight man.”

Rory pulled a pillow over his head. He heard the bathroom door bang shut.

“Okay. What the hell was that?” Rory muttered. Louder, he added, “May I remind you, you kissed me yesterday?”

“Yes, and I thought you’d be halfway to the bayou by now,” came the shout from Yamane. Sticking his head out the bathroom door, toothbrush in hand, he said, “I’m too old to be your adolescent experiment.”

Rory called back, “I’m too old to be an experimenting adolescent.” Yamane came out of the bathroom. “If you need to use the bathroom, go ahead. I have a meeting this morning with a friend so I need to shower and get dressed.”

“I can imagine.” Rory got up off the floor.

“What the hell does that mean?” Yamane asked.

“I met one of your friends last night, remember?” Rory opened his pilot case and rummaged around.

Yamane smirked at him. “Yeah, but he won’t be the reason I’ll be wearing my hair loose today.”

Rory caught Yamane’s meaning, blushed, then walked past him as though he would bite.

* * * * *

When Rory emerged from the bathroom, Yamane said, “While I’m getting ready, you can order breakfast from room service. I like scrambled eggs and French toast with fruit, if they have it. If not, order pancakes. And coffee, please, cream and sugar.” Rory nodded and went to the phone. While he waited nervously for Yamane to finish, he neatened up the room, which didn’t take long. To pass the time, he listened to his iPod, so the phone, when it rang, sounded as if it came from a long way away. He pulled out an earbud and answered it. “Ran Yamane’s room.”

A heavily accented voice asked for Ran-sama. “Is he there?”

“He’s in the shower at the moment. May I take a message?” Drawn Together

31

“Tell Ran-sama to call his agent. It’s very important. Before anything, do you understand?”

“I’ll tell him he needs to call his agent before anything. I understand, thank you. I assume he has the number?”

“Call my cell,” she said. “Please, it is urgent. Do not delay.”

“I understand, thank you. I’ll give him the message right away.” He wondered if there was a Japanese equivalent to his southern accent. Maybe that was why she kept repeating herself. “Right away, yes.” He hung up.