Читать книгу Dan Sharp Mysteries 6-Book Bundle - Jeffrey Round - Страница 17

The kitchen was transformed. The beer bottles had been cleared out and the room stood bathed in a perky yellow light, steeped in the aroma of fresh coffee. Daniella was reading when Dan walked in. She glanced up, perturbation written on her face.

“Good morning,” he said.

She looked out the window as if she hadn’t considered it. “Yes,” she said, after a moment. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“Anyone else around yet?”

“No, it’s just me. Sebastiano and Thom are still in bed. Together.”

Dan wasn’t sure if the last word had been added for emphasis or clarity. He watched her gaze sulkily out the window, her dark eyes fixed on something that might have been over on the far shore or possibly much farther away.

“What’s the order of events this afternoon?” Dan asked.

She turned a gloomy gaze on him. “What does this mean?” she said abruptly.

“The order of events,” Dan repeated. “What’s happening before the wedding?”

“Ah!” She brightened. “We are having brunch at eleven then some of us are going to get ready to go on the boat. Nobody told you?” She looked at him with something like pity.

“No,” he said. “Thank you for telling me.”

Dan had just sat down with his coffee when Ted slipped into the room, still wearing his shades, his skin the colour of cold porridge. The giggling Jezebel followed, only slightly subdued from the night before.

“Good morning all!” Ted called out.

There was a bit of silliness at the coffee maker. Jezebel poured herself a cup and Ted attempted to withhold the sugar from her. She grabbed his wrist and wrested it from him, leaving a red mark on his arm. Their laughter sounded competitive. Dan found himself disliking them. If he’d been in public, he would have found another place to sit.

“The happy couple not up yet?” Ted said, squinting at the brightness outside the window.

“Not yet,” Daniella said with a forced smile as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Ted snorted. “I’m not surprised. I think he and Sebastiano had a three-way with the best man last night.” Jezebel nudged him and he turned to look at Dan. “Oh, sorry — is he with you?” He grinned. “I was kidding, of course.”

“You’re quite a kidder,” Dan said, exiting with his cup, their ghostly laughter following him.

It was almost noon when Bill finally showed. Dan had never known him to sleep in. He’d missed brunch but declared in a jaunty voice that all he needed was coffee. Dan looked outside and saw Thom stepping into a car.

“Shouldn’t you be going with Thom?”

Bill shook his head. “Nothing so formal,” he said. “Thom and Sebastiano are driving down together.” They looked out in time to see Sebastiano in tails, his hair neatly coiffed, following Thom. “It’s not like it’s a real wedding, anyway.”

Dan gave him a look.

“You don’t know Thom,” Bill said defensively.

“No, you’re right — I don’t.”

A crowd of well-heeled men and women hovered by the dock, with a few children and at least one Pekinese. A man with a headset was attempting to direct them onto the boat, but no one seemed to be listening. They resisted his directives like teenagers set on being difficult, yet without knowing what they were rebelling against.

Bill introduced Dan to a thin young man with shoulder length hair standing with a grey-haired older man who was his partner. The younger man, a dentist, seemed particularly giddy. He wore a mock turtleneck with a chain of glittering stones on his chest.

“Another one! Can you believe it? It’s like the whole world’s getting married! I keep swearing to myself, no more gay weddings! But whenever they ask me, I say yes. I always say yes!” he shrieked, his actions seemingly inexplicable even to himself. He turned to the older man. “Why do you let me, Freddy? Why do you always let me say yes?”

Freddy’s eyes twinkled, as though he found his partner’s antics infinitely amusing. “But you wouldn’t say yes if you didn’t want to, Derek. I know you. You just wouldn’t do it!”

Bill turned to Dan and said, sotto voce, “My god! He’s daring. I can’t believe he wore the diamonds!”

Dan turned to take in the garish necklace. “Are they real?”

Bill nodded. “You’re staring at half a million dollars.”

The hilarity seemed to be spreading as all around them people began to say giddy things that seemed to imply their attendance was largely a matter of whim. “I can’t believe I’m even here,” said a matronly woman in furs, without stopping to explain why she found it hard to believe in her physical proximity at that moment.

The man with the headset went by, his face set to concern. “Please board the ship everybody. The ship is sailing in ten minutes. We need everyone on board.”

Freddy seemed to find this particularly amusing and broke into giggles. It was only when a blast went off from the boat that the crowd relented, turning in their fabulous finery of furs and diamonds and high-heels like a strange species boarding an ark.

Bill caught Dan’s eye. “Shall we?”

Dan nodded and felt Bill clutch his arm. For a moment, he thought of Ted’s insinuations at breakfast. Then he dismissed them, filled with a sudden glow at being Bill’s chosen partner in a very public ceremony.

“You look terrific,” Dan said.

Bill had transformed by putting on a tuxedo. What had seemed dowdy in street clothes had taken on a regal tone. He had broader shoulders and suddenly the paunch was gone. The prince replacing the frog.

“Thank you, kind sir. You’re pretty damn hot yourself.”

On board, Bill excused himself to perform his obligations as best man. “Thom needs me,” he said, giving Dan a kiss before going off to attend his duties.

Dan looked around. On one side of the room was the same fashionable crowd he might see at Woody’s on a Saturday night. Well-dressed, attractive, they included an assemblage of real estate agents whose trendy clothes, pricey haircuts, and bone-white smiles proclaimed them one step away from being famous, and who seemed to be enjoying the lifestyle as though they already were. Off in another corner, Dan recognized a couple of design-show hosts noted for their popular lifestyle series. One had a face and the other a body, Donny said. If you found a third with a brain and put them together, they might almost make a whole person. Dan wondered if the stories about their sex lives were true. Where could they possibly have found the time?

On the opposite side of the room huddled the straights, the divide between the two groups unimpeachable except for one attractive man in a camel-hair coat who seemed to be observing it all with detached amusement. His expression, coupled with his position between both worlds, defied any effort to place him within a geo-sexual context.

The women were either severe or deferential. Many had never been lookers but they had the money and nerve to dress as though they were, with pushed up bosoms and low cut fronts. They made it clear they traded in social status and husbands almost interchangeably, leaving the financial concerns to the men. Of the men, the younger ones invariably wore flashy ties and smart suits, while the older ones seemed largely the type who drank whiskey and soda and bought out competitors with a nod of the head.

Occasionally, an oblivious heterosexual male would find himself chatting with someone on the other side, only to realize that an all-male gathering here meant something quite different than at the club. Inevitably, he’d try to make a good show of it, chat a little longer before disengaging himself to rejoin his own side with a nervous backward glance and a forced laugh, so his friends and associates would know he’d been mistaken and was now coming back to the fold. No matter how tolerant and open-minded you were, in a male dominated world where win-or-lose was written over everything, winners still didn’t associate with queers.

Dan was unsure where he’d stand should he be forced to choose. Perhaps with the ambiguous presence in camel-hair in the middle of the room. A large, sweaty man came up and saved him the bother of having to decide.

“What school did you go to?” the man asked, wiping his brow with a napkin.

“Sudbury High.”

“Sudbury what?” the man exclaimed with a shocked look. “Is that a private school?”

“No,” Dan said.

“I thought everybody here went to a private school!” He eyed Dan as though he might be an impostor. “Did you have a choice?”

Dan shook his head. “No.”

The man looked around, sucked the ice at the bottom of his glass and said, “Neither did I. I never went to private school.” He made it sound like the greatest loss he’d ever had to endure.

“We’re probably better off for it,” Dan said.

“Oh, no!” the man exclaimed. “Don’t fool yourself.” He whirled abruptly and extended an arm that took in the entire room. “These are the people who run our country — or who will be running our country in a few years. Look at them.” Dan obliged the man by turning to look at the crowd. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

Dan wasn’t sure what he found so amazing. “Politicians are anything but amazing when you get down to it….”

“I’m not talking about politics!” the man exclaimed. “I’m talking about who really runs things — the entrepreneurs, the business class. This is it, gathered in this room.” He shook his head. “Just imagine! If this boat sank, the country would lose half of its ruling elite.”

“Do you think they’d be missed?” Dan said.

The man thought about this. “Maybe not,” he conceded.

A band started up in another room. An assured voice crooned a line from a forties tune. Trevor caught Dan’s eye and came over. Dan introduced him to the other man, who said a few words before leaving to join the ranks on the far side of the room.

“I guess he thought I was straight,” Dan said with a bemused grin. “How’s it going? The social register keeping you busy?”

Trevor laughed. “You know, there are some things that are a given in life. I know, for instance, that I’ll never be half as rich as most of the people in this room, just as I know I could never dedicate myself to the kind of work that would make me that wealthy. And just as I also know,” he glanced toward the room where the music came from, “that I will never like Michael Bublé.”

“You’re not a jazz fan?”

“Au contraire,” Trevor said. “I am a jazz fan. But let’s not slag the local talent — it’s beneath us. Besides,” he took a good look around, “there are far more deserving targets right here in the room. Look at these people. Most of them have suits instead of personalities.”

Bill suddenly reappeared clutching a glass. He looked around with a frown and headed toward Dan. He saw Trevor and paused.

“Here comes the boyfriend,” Trevor said with a smile. “I’m going to mingle with the lions and tigers. Wish me luck.”

Bill nodded curtly at Trevor as he left. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all. Finished your best man duties already?” Dan asked.

Bill shook his head impatiently. “Apparently I wasn’t needed.”

“Oh?”

“I gather I was keeping Thom from getting in one last fuck before the wedding.” He took a gulp of his drink and looked around the gathering. “Quite the dog and pony show, isn’t it?”

“Who are all the suits?” Dan asked, glancing across the room.

“Business associates. Thom’s mother made them come.” Bill smiled grimly, his voice louder than necessary. “Interesting woman, Lucille Killingworth. It seems money can buy quite a bit of loyalty in her world. It can even make your colleagues attend the wedding of your gay son and his Latin Lothario.”

“You’re getting drunk,” Dan said, trying to keep out a note of disapproval.

Bill looked at the glass in his hand. “Not drunk enough,” he said, tipping the glass back to empty it. He reached out and grabbed Dan’s crotch. “I want you to fuck me silly tonight.”

A few feet over, an older couple turned their heads then quickly looked away.

Bill tinkled the ice in his glass, oblivious to the attention he was getting. “I can’t believe he’s marrying that mail-order gigolo.” His voice carried across the room.

A strained look passed over Dan’s face. “Do you need to be so loud?”

“Why? Getting touchy?”

Dan shook his head. “Just sensitive.”

“Right. I forgot you were bought and paid for once.”

Dan’s shoulders sagged. “That’s really uncalled for….”

“Don’t mind me,” Bill mumbled. He looked toward the bar. “I need a refill.” He glanced at Dan, contrition covering his face. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how difficult this is for me.”

Folding chairs had been set up around the upper deck. A tarp stood nearby in case of rain. The guests filled the rows until the entire deck was occupied. At the last moment, Bill took his place beside Thom while Daniella stood next to Sebastiano. As promised, she’d donned a tux and gelled her hair back in sophisticated lesbian attire, though Dan doubted she was one. With the change of wardrobe, her mood had reverted to her casual laughing self. To Dan, she was nearly as handsome as her nervous, elegant brother.

The minister, a stout, dark-haired woman in a cleric’s outfit with a bosom like a shelf, exuded a stern no-nonsense-on-the-job demeanour, though Dan suspected she was probably a lark in her off-hours. Her carefully inflected reading of the ceremony carried an air of respectfulness that many traditional weddings lacked. Her jokes, though few, were appropriate and her solemnity solemn enough without being too serious. If he and Bill were ever to marry, Dan thought, he’d look her up.

The couple exchanged vows, looking elated as they leaned together to seal them with a kiss. Their blue eyes seemed the connecting thread between the light-haired Thom and the dark-haired Sebastiano. Bill, whatever his hidden sorrows, more than looked the part of supportive best man to his best friend.

They stayed on the upper deck for pictures as the boat headed through the Adolphustown Reach and on toward Lake Ontario. Other vessels passed, exchanging greetings and horn tootings as they recognized the nature of the ceremony, though a face or two looked perplexed at not being able to locate the blushing bride in her fancy meringue outfit alongside all the handsome men in black and white.

After the reception line, the guests filed below deck to a dining room. Dan found himself seated with three straight couples who all seemed to know one another. Once past the introductions, they ignored him in favour of exchanging gossip about people he’d never heard of. They endured the various speeches made by and to both grooms. Dan carefully measured his intake of wine. Bill was drinking enough for the two of them. Thom and Sebastiano mingled with the guests. At one point, Thom plunked himself down beside Dan with a satisfied smile. “All good?”

“Very nice. Congratulations — it was a terrific ceremony.”

Bill drifted over and sat, placing his hand on Dan’s knee. Had he thought Thom was making a move on Dan? Was that what Bill’s difficulty had been earlier? Surely he knew Dan better.

Thom playfully squeezed his best man’s shoulder. “Thank you for loaning me Billy for the day,” he said to Dan.

“My pleasure.”

“Not a bad turnout,” Thom continued, looking over the assembled guests.

“Where is Sebastiano’s family?” Dan asked.

Thom pointed out a small dark-haired woman seated near to the bar. “There. That’s his Aunt Naida. His mother’s sister.”

“That’s it?”

Thom shrugged. “That and Daniella. The other side hasn’t really accepted it yet.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “You’ve got the bull and you own the barn. Who cares if you’ve got the pedigree or not?” He stood for a refill, pausing to look over the room. “They sound like a dreary lot anyway. They should be grateful you’re rescuing their son from his squalid life.”

Across the room, a woman in a yellow dress with a light green scarf threw Thom a smile. Had Catherine Deneuve’s younger sister been kidnapped as a child, this woman would have made a good candidate for the title of foundling. Her laughter carried to them from the group she was addressing.

Thom followed Dan’s gaze. “My mother,” he said.

Where some women faded with age, others grew into it with vigour and self-assurance. Not as the result of chemicals and operations, but through inner discipline and will. Lucille Killingworth was one of these.

“She’s beautiful,” Dan said.

“And deadly.” Thom smirked. “Don’t be fooled. Her approval is necessary, so I try hard to stay on her good side.”

“And keeping your brother in check is part of that?”

Thom gave Dan an appraising stare. “Bill never told me you were so perceptive,” he said.

“I don’t think he’s noticed yet. But I do my best to please.”

Thom’s eyes narrowed. “I like a guy who likes to please.”

“I take it Sebastiano’s a pleaser.”

“In every way. And I’m always happy to reward the men who please me.” He glanced sideways, chipping the ball back at Dan. “I don’t suppose it would be wise of me to make a pass at you?”

Dan couldn’t help smiling at the smoothness with which Thom had done just that. “No.”

“I didn’t think so. You’re not the type, are you? Or maybe I’m not your type.”

Before Dan could answer, the clinking of silver against crystal caught them off-guard. Ted stood, drink in hand.

Ted had removed his sunglasses. His eyes glittered weirdly in the light. “I’d like to propose a toast to the men in my illustrious family,” he said.

A strained look came over Thom’s face.

“First, to my loving brother Thom, to whom I owe everything I am today.” Ted looked at Thom and raised the glass high. “Yes, dear brother — everything.” The comment was met with applause. “And here’s to our grandfather, Nate Macaulay, the old son-of-a-bitch.” Dan flashed on the portrait of the malevolent N.M. “You could say a lot about the old bastard, but you have to admit he made a hell of a lot of money!”

“You tell it, Teddy boy!” someone called out.

“For fuck’s sake,” Thom mumbled.

Over at the head table, Lucille Killingworth maintained an expression of bemused tolerance.

“And of course,” Ted continued, “we shouldn’t forget our dear father who loved us so much he spared us his miserable company for the last twenty years.” The room had gone silent, mesmerized by the matador’s sword raised over the dying bull. “I’d like to see the look on his face if he saw his baby boy getting married to another man. I’d give anything to get him in here and watch his expression.”

Thom raised his glass. “Amen to that, brother,” he said loudly and downed his drink, inviting the others to follow.

Ted looked around with a silly grin, as though he’d just pulled off a very amusing joke.

“My undying thanks to my brother Teddy for his marvellous toast,” Thom said before Ted could start up again. “I think it’s time to adjourn to the other room for some music and mayhem of a different sort.”

The scraping of chairs filled the air as people stood and headed for the ballroom.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Thom mumbled.

The band played a gleeful concoction of trills and well-heeled themes. Rock transformed to rumba. The dancers twirled on, oblivious to the sea change as light glittered on women’s gowns and the dandruff-flecked shoulders of middle-aged men anxious to show they still had it, or perhaps just hoping they did.

Daniella came through the doors, still in her Dietrich drag. She stood watching the dancers, a martini glass held breast high. Her eyes lit on Thom and Sebastiano gyrating and grinding together at the floor’s centre. Her mouth formed a hard line. Still blue, but less than an angel. Then she spied Dan. Her expression changed as she swept across the floor to him.

“Danny! You’re so sexy!” she cried. She had a way of eliding her consonants, making one liquid syllable flow smoothly into the next, as though they’d been written just for her. “Come dance with me!”

He obliged her, but just as they reached the floor the music changed from a samba to a slow motion wave. She wrapped herself around him, glass aloft, and drank over his shoulder. Fingers slid between the buttons of his shirt, caressing his chest. She bent her head back and extended a trousered leg, the young Martha Graham impersonating a Joshua Tree. Dan felt more like a piece of sculpture than a dancer.

“Daniella!” Sebastiano gave her a disapproving look.

Her eyes flashed rebellion. She continued to dance only slightly less wildly, then downed her drink and went off for a refill. Dan watched her flit between the tables, a pale drunken butterfly, with everyone’s eyes on her. She seemed to be flirting with the entire room. At one point she nearly stumbled into a table. If not for the quick reflexes of a man standing nearby, she would have fallen. A trio of men became instantly solicitous, but she brushed off their concern.

“You ought not to drink so much,” Dan heard one of the men say. “Especially if you can’t stay on your feet.”

She glared. “I’m not drunk,” she declared then turned away indignantly.

Sebastiano broke off his dance with Thom and went over to her. They exchanged a few heated words in Portuguese. Daniella tossed her head angrily and looked away, but Sebastiano was insistent as he pulled her protesting onto the floor. The music turned from a wave to a shimmer. He tore off his jacket and tossed it aside. His slicked-back hair, sheer cotton shirt, and tightly drawn trousers lent him the contours of a matador. He stood, chest extended, the young Valentino regarding his hermaphroditic self-portrait: Rudy and Judy. They might have been twins. Dan felt a tingling of lust.

Sebastiano came alive, hands whirling overhead. He glowed, a dark angel taking flight. Inspired by the dancers, the band launched into a fiery tango. Daniella unclasped her heels and threw them beneath a chair. The music grew feverish as she moved back and forth, mirroring her brother. Sweat hung in the air. He pulled her so close they seemed to be one body.

The crowd warmed to the tempo, arching themselves into the music, though none could match the Brazilians for ardour and grace. The room broke into spontaneous applause time and again. Even Thom watched them admiringly.

It was midnight. The band had moved on to a more northerly clime, the tempo chilled to the formal rhythms of a Viennese waltz, a confection that might have been popular in Hitler’s time. Older couples dominated the floor, feet shuffling, heels lifting gently as though nostalgia demanded a softer tread. Someone had coaxed Lucille Killingworth up onto the floor. The mother of the groom moved gracefully, scarf twisted lightly about her throat. She danced with a white-haired man who smiled a lot, though he seemed in deadly earnest. He looked down frequently, either worried about stepping on his partner’s feet or following some imaginary numbered dance steps on the tiles. Dan noticed his expression — admiration laced with desire seen through the eyes of a barracuda. This man had designs on the Merry Widow.

Bill and Thom had disappeared in the melee. The minister was chatting with another dykish type over in a corner. Dan saw he’d been right — she laughed and held her drink like a trucker bedding down at a pub for the night, clearly no longer discussing ecumenical concerns.

Sebastiano and Daniella had retrieved their discarded clothing and sat cooing at one of the tables. He pushed her hair from her face with his fingers. Whatever their argument, they seemed to have made up. A candle basked in the glow of Daniella’s pale skin, making her look sad and fragile.

Dan toyed with getting another drink, but decided against it. He felt flushed. He descended to the lower deck for a breath of cool night air. A couple huddled against the railing. It was the giddy dentist with the diamonds and his older boyfriend. They looked up at his approach.

“Cheers!” said the older man, raising a champagne glass and sipping from it before placing it on the railing.

Dan gave a friendly nod and leaned into the opposite corner where the rail curved against the back of the boat. They’d started their return. From above, music and laughter floated out over the water. On either shore, lights from passing houses gleamed like earthbound stars. Now and then, they swept past other vessels manoeuvring their way home.

The boat made a marked shift to the right, following the channel. The forgotten champagne glass inched toward the rail’s outer edge. Dan was about to say something when the boat shifted again. The crystal fell in slow motion, an arc of whiteness hitting the waves with a silent splash before disappearing in the blackness.

Dan left the amorous couple and made his way upstairs. A squadron of servers hoisted trays of hors d’oeuvres, passing him on the way to the ballroom. He felt cooler but his head throbbed. He stopped in the corridor and leaned against a doorway.

A voice came through the wall, the tones low and serious. He couldn’t make out the words. He stood there, not really intending to listen.

“You’ve got to pull yourself together.” It was Thom’s voice, followed by what might have been a stifled sob. “Look, it doesn’t mean anything. Not really.”

“But you’re married!” Bill’s voice rose in pitch, like a child whining about not being given a promised treat.

“It’s only a ceremony, Billy,” Dan heard Thom say in consoling tones. There was a long silence. Dan’s blood jumped with adrenaline as he waited.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever loved,” he heard Bill say. “In my entire fucking life!”

You have no idea how difficult this is for me. Dan felt sickened, torn between leaving and staying to hear more. Curiosity won out.

“It’s okay, Billy. It’s okay,” Thom said soothingly. The talking died to a murmur. Then he heard Bill ask, “Who am I?”

“You’re my hot little cabin boy,” Thom answered.

Dan felt a flash of rage that had preceded some of the stupidest acts he’d ever perpetrated. His fist raised itself of its own accord. He wanted to pound on the door and demand the lovers emerge red-faced, in flagrante. In his mind, he saw himself denting the filing cabinet and remembered how good it had felt. He fought the rage, sucking in air even as his fist resisted.

There are mirrors in junk shops, silvered over with age and mildew, reflecting whatever lies before them pressed against a mottled, timeworn backdrop. Without breaking the glass, they shatter the illusion by giving an image of the outer world while simultaneously revealing the thin edge of reality beneath. This was what Dan felt he was looking at. His hand recoiled with a shiver of recognition; his stomach rebelled.

He lurched down the passage in search of a washroom, barging past startled guests. A changeroom presented itself, the door half open. Inside, Sebastiano stood before a full-length mirror. Dan’s anger bobbed, shifted, and found a new focus. He toed the door open with his foot. The boy looked up.

“Need some help?” Dan said.

Sebastiano watched curiously as Dan tugged at the ends of his bowtie. Next, Dan straightened the suspender straps, smoothing them over Sebastiano’s shoulders as though dressing a child. The boy leaned back with an expression of trust. Muscles strained his shirtfront. Dan knew there’d be no struggle.

“You and your sister dance well together.”

Sebastiano’s chin rose and fell in what might have been agreement. Dan’s move was smooth, unhurried. He knew the hypnotic effect gentleness had on boys like Sebastiano, even the experienced ones. His fingers reached around the back of his neck. He waited till the boy looked him in the eye then pulled their faces together. They kissed more deeply and intimately than Sebastiano had kissed Thom after their vows. The sensation was wet and soft; their teeth clicked together a few times before they got the rhythm. After that, it was simply a matter of closing the door and getting down to business. Sebastiano’s pants slid off easily, as clothes do when worn by men whose bodies fit the cut, with no excess flesh to consider. Dan unzipped his own trousers and let them slide to the floor, pulling his underwear taut across his thighs. Sebastiano turned his broad back to Dan and braced himself against the mirror.

Dan knelt and breathed in the smell of funk. His tongue twitched and darted. He felt the short sharp bristles and heard Sebastiano moan. He slid a glistening finger, then a second, deftly up into moist warm flesh. Sebastiano made what passed for welcoming noises. Dan stood. Quickly, before Sebastiano could protest, he plunged in. He felt warmth, wet, goo. It felt good. Familiar, yet not. He hadn’t fucked without a condom in years, not since a drunken fling in a garage that had been left open on Hayden Street when he’d been followed down the lane at four a.m. after a night of dancing. It had taken an excess of alcohol for him to be reckless that time. This time all it had taken was rage.

There were no protests as he rode the Brazilian stud. The boy arched himself at the mirror, face pressed against the glass. Dan gripped the boy’s abdominals, straining and forcing himself all the way in. There were no protests about that, either, only murmurs of pleasure and a few encouraging words in Portuguese. A drop of sweat glistened and fell from the tip of Dan’s nose. It landed on the small of the boy’s back, rolling down to where Dan’s cock joined Sebastiano’s body in slithery, piston-like motions. He came quickly, discharging completely before pulling out with a solitary plop. Sebastiano let out a groan and came in jerks and spasms onto the mirror, his spunk whiter than any Dan could recall. It hung there, almost muscular in its clinging, not running down. Dan grunted, as if in reply. His cock swung sloppily between his legs, a telltale smudge on the head. A pungent smell filled the air.

Dan picked the boy’s underwear up from the floor and wiped himself off with it. For good measure, he wiped the mirror too. The boy turned to face him. “Good fuck?” Dan said.

“Yeah — good fuck.” The boy grinned.

Dan smiled, but his anger was still intact. Good, yes — but I bet you won’t be too quick to brag about it. Maybe I’ll spread the word myself.

“I have to go,” Sebastiano said without a trace of sheepishness.

“Me too.”

Dan handed over the boy’s underwear with the stain smeared across the bottom.

The boy’s smile vanished. “I cannot wear this,” he said.

Dan looked around, as if perplexed. He brightened. “Here,” he said, handing over his own silk boxers. “You can have mine. A little something to remember me by when you have your honeymoon fuck.”

The boy looked at them dubiously then shrugged. “Why not?” He pulled them up over his legs. They fit.

Why not, indeed?

“They look good on you,” Dan said. “Keep them. It’s the least I can do.”

Gentle arabesques of light fanned over the ballroom and across the dancers, glittering diamonds creating a fantasy landscape, the happy ending to some fairy tale. Trevor stood just inside the ballroom door. His face lit up when he saw Dan.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you. How’s it going?”

Dan had to fight to make eye contact with him. He was suddenly and utterly consumed by shame. Whatever had possessed him only minutes ago had begun to slacken like a balloon losing altitude. The blood urge for revenge was gone, leaving only the afterglow of remorse.

“I think I just did something very stupid,” he said.

Trevor watched him curiously. “Anything to do with your boyfriend?”

Dan nodded. “My boyfriend and your cousin. It seems they’ve been a good deal more than best friends. My stupidity, I guess.”

Trevor put a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said in that calming voice. “They’re not a nice crowd — my cousin and his friends. They’re awful people. Selfish and insincere. I shouldn’t be saying this, but you seem like a nice guy. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

Dan shrugged, his face a portrait of self-reproach. “Too late.”

Trevor attempted a consoling smile. “Is there anything I can do? Anything I can say?”

“No, but thanks.”

A clamour broke out in the hallway behind them. It grew in volume as a small crowd rushed into the ballroom with Thom at its head. Thom seized on Trevor and Dan. “Where’s Sebastiano?” he demanded.

Dan felt a sickening sense of oncoming retribution. He’d expected there might be a scene over what he’d done, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. And certainly not here, in front of the wedding guests.

Without waiting for a reply, Thom turned and looked over the crowd. “Has anybody seen Sebastiano?” he yelled over the music.

Faces turned to regard him with a mixture of amusement and consternation, unsure of the intent of this impromptu game. Several people shook their heads.

“I did,” Dan said. “I saw him just now.”

Thom whirled to face him. “Where? How long ago?”

“A few minutes ago. Four or five. He was in a changeroom off the lower deck.”

Before Dan could say more, Sebastiano came through the door like a spirited horse approaching the pack.

“Thank god!” Thom exclaimed. His voice held an edge of panic. “Someone said you fell over the railing into the water.”

“No.” Sebastiano shook his head, bewildered. “I am here.”

“They said you fell over,” Thom insisted, his face set with concern. “They said your jacket was on the railing.”

Behind them the band went through a change of pitch, moving southerly again, notching the rhythm up to a jerky reggae beat. Outside the windows, the darkness suddenly seemed immense.

“My jacket? My jacket is on the chair — over there.” Sebastiano pointed to where he’d been sitting half an hour earlier. His unclaimed jacket sat waiting. Confusion passed over his face, followed by fear as the impossible suggested itself. “Where is Daniella?” He looked around in a panic. He grabbed Thom’s arm. “Where is she? Where is Daniella?”

“I don’t know,” Thom said, shaking his head. “I haven’t seen her.” He turned to the others. “Has anyone seen Daniella?”

Murmurs broke out around the room, but no one replied. The band continued, oblivious. The dancers stopped one by one as realization settled in that the mood in the room had changed. Sober faces regarded them. Dan saw Bill enter from the opposite side of the room.

“Anyone?” Thom repeated, his voice tense. “We’re looking for Daniella.”

“I saw her about twenty minutes ago,” said a bald man with a concerned face. “She was on the upstairs deck. I think she had on a jacket like Sebastiano’s.”

Sebastiano let out a moan.

“Look,” Dan said decisively. “Let’s find out for sure what’s happened. Who said they saw someone fall overboard?”

“We did,” came a voice near the back of the room.

They turned to see an older man in black tie standing with a woman in a mauve dress, their faces pale with concern. “My wife and I definitely saw someone fall from the upper deck.”

“We thought it was that young man.” His wife pointed at Sebastiano.

“Where was this?” Dan said.

“We were on the back lower deck when someone toppled from above. Whoever it was fell right past us.”

Sebastiano looked around in terror. He latched onto Bill. “You’re a doctor. Do something!”

“Okay, let’s not panic,” Thom commanded. “We’ll notify the captain to turn the boat around.” He turned to Sebastiano. “We’ll find her — don’t worry.” His eyes stopped at Dan. “Would you please organize a search on board for Daniella? She’s got to be here somewhere.”

Dan nodded. “I’ll start upstairs.”

“I’ll go with you,” Trevor said.