Page 133 of Something Like Winter
blood spill into a vial.
Chapter Thirty
The house was eerily silent that night, the bed feeling too large and empty, but somehow Tim found sleep. In his dreams he stood in a high school gymnasium, facing a stage cast in shadow except for a spotlight. In the light stood Ben, older than Tim had ever seen him but still every bit as handsome. And then came that voice. Once it had sent him away but now it was calling him home again. His penance was done, the wait was over.
Come home.
Tim awoke, body tense with adrenaline like waking from a nightmare, but he didn’t feel afraid. Instead he felt a longing that made his heart ache. Chinchilla grumbled in puzzlement when he got out of bed, following him into the bathroom where he grabbed his robe. It hung next to Ryan’s, which gave him pause, but that song still filled his head, so he went to the office and turned on the computer.
Google don’t fail me now!
Tim had looked Ben up before, hoping to glean some insight into his life, but never found much. He had no reason to believe this time would be any different. But it was. Clicking a link to a potential lead, he poured over the website’s text like it might vanish at any moment.
Con Man’s Heart – A musical drama of heartbreak and deceit. Austin’s Twilight Theater proudly presents an original Brian Milton production, set in colonial times and told in the traditional style of—
Tim scanned through the play’s description, trying to find what the search result had to do with Ben. And there it was, that wonderfully familiar name, and in full!
Staring the musical talents of Linda Anderson as the Duchess of Derby and Benjamin Bentley as silver-tongued Bo Williams.
Theater? Scratch that. Dinner theater! Tim grinned at the screen as he learned everything he could about the theater and the play. The website even had cast photos, little headshots that were frustratingly small. He could see Ben’s familiar features, but the resolution was too low to tell how much he had changed. Of course Tim could always go and see for himself. The play was running for the next three weeks. He practically did cartwheels out of the office to get his credit card.
When he was about to click “submit” to complete his order, he hesitated. Was this the right thing to do? What if Ben noticed him, and the play came grinding to a halt? Tim chuckled at the idea and clicked the mouse with glee.
Ben’s face and that wonderful singing voice… If neither could be his, Tim could at least bask in their presence again.
* * * * *
The theater interior was tastefully decorated and well maintained, having been rescued by the local historical society some years back. This meant the stage area was grand, framed by tall pillars that ran all the way to the second story balconies. Tim felt a strong sense of relief at this, not wanting Ben to be working on a trashy stage with an audience more interested in the cheap buffet. In fact, no buffet was offered. Instead the theater functioned as a restaurant, waiters taking orders from each table, but Tim stayed in the lobby, nursing a beer at the bar until he heard the play begin. Only then did he make his way to his seat in the dark, taking a fresh beer with him.
Tim’s frustration grew as the play went on with no sign of Ben. So far the story was about a duchess who had fled England for America, and who despite being beautiful and rich, was inexplicably single. Tim supposed he could relate. When Ben strolled on stage, he sat upright in his seat. The historical clothing and fake beard made Ben almost unrecognizable at first, but his voice was the same. Part of Tim felt like hiding. The other part wanted to leap on stage and make himself known.
He barely paid attention to the plot, instead staring at Ben no matter which characters were speaking, but he picked up on the basics. Ben, aka Bo Williams, was a con man after the duchess’s money. Naturally, Bo ends up falling in love with her, but just before the wedding, a person from Bo’s past exposes his history. This sets off a series of misunderstandings that end in heartbreak, just as the website promised.
Tim didn’t care much for theater, and if he was being honest, Ben wasn’t an exceptional actor. But the play featured musical numbers, and when Ben sang, Tim became enraptured. Sparing a glance for the audience, he could tell everybody else was equally impressed. At the story’s end, the duchess tosses Bo out of her life, much to Tim’s dismay. Not because he really cared about the characters, but because it meant Ben left the stage.
When the play was over, all the lights came on at once, and the cast walked out on stage in one big line, bowing and grinning at the applause. Tim felt exposed, but Ben was on the opposite side of the stage and didn’t notice him. Still, the distance between them was relatively small. They were ridiculously close, and Ben would never know.
Tim hastily made his way out of the theater after that, feeling heady at having seen Ben again, even if Bo and his fake beard were in the way. He’d like to see Ben as he really was. Maybe Tim could write the theater and ask for an autographed headshot or something nutty like that.
Stopping outside his car, Tim turned on his cell phone. Three new messages, which was unusual.Anymessage was unexpected. Barely remembering how to access his voicemail, Tim listened, feeling a chill despite the summer evening when he heard the key words. St. David’s Hospital. Ryan. Emergency room.
Tim was in his car and gunning it across town in seconds, ignoring the speed limit and quite a few red lights. If a cop wanted to pull him over, he would have to chase him all the way to the hospital. By some miracle he made it there unhindered and ran across the parking lot, panting by the time he reached the nurses’ station. God damn, he was out of shape!
“Ryan Hamilton,” he said.
The nurse calmly typed the name in the computer, one of her coworkers speaking up. “He’s the overdose.”
Fuck!
“Oh, right.” The nurse looked him over. “Are you family?”
“I’m all he’s got,” Tim said. “Is he okay? Can I see him?”
“Just a moment.” The nurse who knew about Ryan disappeared down a hallway. When she returned, she brought a doctor with her. Tim knew she was a doctor because she had that frazzled “way too much too do” air about her.
“Dr. Phillips,” she said, not offering a hand. “We think Ryan overdosed. Do you know if he’s a regular drug user?”
“Yeah, he is.” Tim’s throat felt tight. “Is he okay?”
