Serenading Stanley (31 page)

Once Arthur got the liquor bill he would probably regret that decision, because the near-naked bartenders were working their near-naked asses off: doling out cocktails, pouring wine, drawing beers. Somehow they also managed to look sexy and flirty and make passes at every single customer who crossed their paths, and still find time to ogle and smooch each other every chance they got. Stanley was impressed. Those guys had a hell of a work ethic.

Stanley had to chuckle when Roger ordered a couple of draft beers and both bartenders’ jaws dropped. They looked Roger up and down with considerable appreciation, obviously finding him the best-looking man at the party.
And it’s true,
Stanley thought.
He is.
And he’s also mine, so put your eyes back in your heads, you miserable pricks.
Then he giggled at himself.

Ignoring the stares from the bartenders, who had practically fallen all over each other to be the one to serve him, Roger handed Stanley a beer, and leaned in to give him a kiss as well, just because he felt like it. They found a corner with three square feet of empty floor space and studied the crowd as they sipped their drafts.

“Looks like the Addams family reunion,” Roger said. “Where’s Cousin It?”

Stanley laughed. “Be nice.”

“The decorations are atrocious,” Roger said, rolling his eyes. “What the hell were we thinking?”

“Doesn’t matter. In an hour these people will be too drunk to see anything anyway.” Looking over the milling heads, he added, “Although I have to admit the floating Jabbering Jesuses are a bit much. We’ll probably go to hell for that.”

“Small price to pay for the privilege of showing off my man to a mob of fucking strangers.”

Again Roger tucked his hand in Stanley’s back pocket, and Stanley’s heart swelled with pride. Roger sure knew how to make a person feel loved. He was a master at it.

“I have a confession to make,” Roger said, leaning in to be heard above the band. “Everybody’s been serenading you for me, Stanley. Ever since you moved into the Belladonna Arms, I’ve been coercing my friends into helping me win your heart. All those casual comments you heard from people about how wonderful I am and all? I wrote those.”

A grin crept across Stanley’s face. “You’re kidding.”

Roger shrugged. “Afraid not. I didn’t know what else to do. You were being a dick.”

At that, Stanley brayed like a jackass again. “I really was a dick, wasn’t I?”

“Yes.” Roger said. “You were.” He wiped a mustache of beer foam from Stanley’s upper lip with his thumb. “I even talked poor old Charlie into swiping your bag of books off my doorknob. I saw you hang them there. I was watching. I knew that’s what you’d do as soon as you realized you’d actually invited me into your apartment, and by God, you did. Of course, Charlie might have swiped it anyway. He really wasn’t taking his medicine. That part of the charade where I crammed the pill down his throat sort of surprised him, but it was all for the best. And he did get his job back.”

“So you really were a hero after all.”

Roger pressed the cool beer glass to his forehead. It was a thousand degrees inside the crowded basement, and there didn’t seem to be enough free oxygen to keep a parakeet alive. “I suppose I was. And I assume that just made me look better in your eyes. A serendipitous development to the proceedings, I thought.”

“Duplicitous bastard.” Stanley grinned.

“You bet.”

Stanley thought of that day. He remembered scurrying away from Charlie’s apartment like a scared rabbit and looking back to see the two men smiling at him as he retreated down the hall.

“What did you say to him?” Stanley asked. “When I was leaving. What did you say to make Charlie smile?”

“I told him you were the man I wanted, and I wasn’t going to be happy until I won you. Charlie seemed to think that was pretty romantic.”

Roger’s eyes softened as he ran a fingertip along Stanley’s jawline. Stanley thought
that
was pretty romantic.

Roger grinned at Stanley’s reaction to his touch. “I wanted to
really
serenade you, but I just can’t sing. Plus your apartment is six floors up. I’d need a bullhorn. I
had
to get everybody to help me.”

“But we’d only just met.”

Roger shrugged. “Didn’t matter. I already knew. Love only has to hit you in the head once. It doesn’t have to keep clubbing you until you’re unconscious. I knew what I wanted the first time I saw you. People who say love at first sight is an impossibility don’t know their ass from a basketball. It exists all right. And as soon as I realized I wanted you, I went after you. By hook or by crook. And look what I’ve got now. I’ve got me a Stanley Sternbaum of my very own. My friends helped me do that.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Thank you.”

“And Sylvia’s cookies?” Stanley asked. “Were they part of your plan?”

“Yep. Although she did fall in love with you after she met you, just like I did. Everyone does, you know.”

“Right. That’s always been a problem of mine.” Stanley snuggled closer to Roger, resting his head on his shoulder. As close as they were, Roger’s arm snaked out to pull him even closer.

“Look,” Stanley said. “There’s Charlie and his new friend.”

Charlie the sneak thief was doing a slow dance with the little pudgy guy. The little pudgy guy was in his customary costume of jeans, cowboy boots, and ten-gallon hat. All he needed was a six-gun and chaps and maybe a cow to round out the ensemble. They looked pretty chummy. Roger had to smile watching them. Neither of them could dance for shit, but it didn’t seem to bother them much.

“I’m glad Charlie found someone,” Roger said. “Maybe he’ll bathe more often.”

Stanley howled with laughter.

While they watched, they saw Charlie’s cowboy friend sneak a hand into Charlie’s back pocket as they danced. Stanley thought that was sweet until he also saw the hand pluck out Charlie’s wallet a second later.

“What the fu—” Roger said.

Then Tex Ritter grinned and shoved the wallet in Charlie’s face while they still danced. Charlie laughed, snatched it away, and pulled his new lover even closer as he stuffed his wallet back in his pocket where it belonged.

A few moments later, they saw Charlie’s hand sneaking toward the cowboy’s back pocket. It looked like he was eyeing the Jabbering Jesuses floating overhead and innocently whistling a tune while he did it, but he was definitely going for the guy’s billfold. Any fool could see it.

Stanley and Roger just shook their heads in wonder. Kleptos in love. What a concept.

Four arms came up from behind and scooped the two of them into a bone-crushing embrace. Beer slopped everywhere.

Turning, Stanley and Roger came face to face with Ramon and ChiChi. They were snorting with laughter like a couple of toddlers and sipping from two bottles of champagne. They weren’t even bothering with stemware.

“How are the lovebirds?” ChiChi hailed. “Looks like Mr. Beautiful finally met his match.” He gave Stanley a congratulatory punch on the arm. “Way to go, Stanley. You nailed the bastard.”

“I sort of had to,” Stanley said around a phony yawn, acting all blasé about it. “He simply wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Roger laughed and dragged Stanley into a bear hug. “You’ll pay for that later.”

“Oh, goody,” Stanley said, and meant it.

Ramon draped an arm around ChiChi’s neck and watched Stanley and Roger schmooze and cuddle. He had a smile splitting his face wide open. Suddenly, he spread his arms and screamed to the heavens, “Ain’t love grand!” He bellowed it at the top of his lungs, holding his champagne bottle high.

ChiChi looked apologetic. “Sorry, guys. Ramon’s a little drunk.”

“Who cares?” Stanley cried. “Ramon’s exactly right. Love
is
grand! Every fucking minute of it!”

“I never knew what happiness was until I met Ramon,” ChiChi confided. “Isn’t that something?”

Stanley was amazed to hear ChiChi speak like that. He might expect it from Ramon—but ChiChi? “You really do love him, don’t you, Cheech?”

And ChiChi dragged Ramon into his arms. Ramon, Stanley noticed, didn’t put up much of a fight when he did. “I love him more than Hamburger Helper. And I
adore
Hamburger Helper.”

“Isn’t he romantic?” Ramon blushed.

ChiChi buried his face in Ramon’s neck. “Dance with me, sweetcakes.”

And a moment later they were stumbling around the dance floor, humping more than dancing, and looking as happy as any couple could ever possibly look.

Stanley just shook his head, watching them. “I never thought they’d make it. I wouldn’t have trusted ChiChi any farther than I could throw him, but Ramon did. Ramon never doubted him for a second.”

“Ramon loved him. What choice did he have? And look at them now. They were meant for each other.” Roger again pulled Stanley close. He brushed his lips over Stanley’s neck, inhaling the scent of him, wanting him so bad even now his teeth ached with need. “Ramon and ChiChi are just like us. They belong together.”

Redheaded Charlie appeared out of nowhere and thrust two beers at them. “Here,” he said. “You’re both looking like you need a drink.”

They accepted the beers, finding a bare spot on one of the tables to dump their empty glasses.

Roger stared at Charlie’s face, all flushed and smiling and happy. “Still taking your pills?”

Charlie nodded. “Both of us are. He’s moving in with me, you know. We’ll be an old married couple soon, just like you two.”

It was the first time Stanley had heard anyone refer to him and Roger that way. He liked the sound of it. And he realized immediately Charlie was absolutely right. That’s exactly what they were. An old married couple.

“We should do the same thing,” Stanley blurted out.

Roger tipped his head to the side. An innocent little grin twisted the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be?”

“You know.”

“Maybe I do,” Roger teased. “But I’m not going to be the one to say it. I want you to say it.”

“Then I will.” Stanley laughed. “I think we should move in together. Now. Today.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Roger said. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

Stanley’s face lit up. “You have?”

“Heck yes.”

Stanley grabbed Roger’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go move. Which apartment do we take? Yours or mine? How about yours? You’ve got better furniture.”

Roger laughed. “Well, that’s not very romantic. Besides, maybe we should wait until the party’s over. Arthur went to all this trouble. We can’t just walk out now.”

Stanley’s face fell. Then he realized Roger was right. “Okay. We’ll wait. A little.”

Roger laughed again and tousled Stanley’s hair. Stanley did the same to him, or tried to, Roger’s hair was so damned short. Then they kissed.

“You guys should really try to get along,” Charlie groaned, sarcastic as hell. “It’s depressing to be around you.”

With that, he toddled off in search of his cowboy.

Stanley watched him go. Then he remembered something.

“What was all that about Arthur’s will? You said you’d explain it to me later. Tell me now.”

They were again in each other’s arms, sipping their beers, moving a little to the music but not really dancing. Just sort of vamping in place. Hugging. Grinding their hard-ons together. Yep, even surrounded by a mob of strangers, their dicks did whatever the hell they wanted to do. There was no stopping them.

Roger took a sip of beer while he figured out what he wanted to say. Then he began. “Arthur’s been madly in love with Sylvia for ages. He’s left her the building if anything happens to him.”

Stanley was stunned. “You mean the Arms? The Belladonna Arms?”

“Yeah. It’s in his will. She gets every brick, board, and cockroach.”

“Then what’s all the fuss about raising money for her surgery?”

“Arthur isn’t dead yet, you know. Which reminds me, where the hell is he? He should be here by now.”

Stanley thought about what Roger had said. “That’s an incredibly generous thing for Arthur to do. Sylvia will be set for life. This property must be worth a fortune.”

Roger pointed across the room. “Uh-oh. Maybe she’s set for life already.”

“Huh?”

Stanley turned to look where Roger was pointing.

“Oh, hey! It’s Sylvia and Pete.” Stanley beamed. “Let’s go say hi.”

Roger held his arm. “Wait. They don’t look like they need to be interrupted just yet.”

And Stanley realized Roger was right. Something momentous was going on in that far-off corner of the room. Stanley could sense it.

Pete was in one of the two suits he always wore to work, and Sylvia was dressed in a pretty black cocktail dress with high heels. The dress showed off her bare shoulders. Stanley realized he’d been wrong about her all along. She wasn’t pretty. She was beautiful.

Sylvia was backed into a corner, held in place by Pete’s long arms braced against the wall on either side of her. Pete’s back was so tense, there wasn’t a bend in it. He was leaning forward, ducking his head to look directly into Sylvia’s eyes since she was so short, trying to catch her gaze, trying to make her listen. Whatever he was saying, he was saying it from the heart. You could tell it by his stance, by the line of his shoulders, by his clenched fists pressed to the wall.

Sylvia stood before him, avoiding his stare, looking down at her hands. Stanley wasn’t sure, but he thought she might be crying.

Then Pete pulled something from his coat pocket. A box. A tiny box.

Sylvia stared at it, eyes wide. Her hands came up to frame her face.

Stanley felt his heart give a lurch when Pete dropped to his knees in front of her and pulled a small shiny object from the box. He held it out to her. A ring. He was holding a ring.

Roger was so rapt at what he was watching, he had a death grip on Stanley’s arm. Stanley finally had to shake him off. “Christ, Roger, you’re breaking my arm.”

“Sorry,” Roger murmured, not really listening. He was too engrossed in what was happening across the room.

They both watched as Sylvia tentatively stretched out her hand and splayed her fingers wide. Pete caressed her arm, took her hand in his, and slipped the ring gently over her finger. Then, still on his knees, he looked up at her and smiled. Stanley could see the tears on Pete’s face from where he stood. Sylvia’s too. They were both crying.