Page 68 of Something Like Winter
“It’s a Thanksgiving miracle!” Tim said with exaggerated glee.
“I mentioned the two snowmobiles that belong to the cabin, didn’t I? Yes? Very well, I’ll stop. Who has my turkey baster?”
Eric was on his feet and dancing around the kitchen again. An hour later, Tim finally found a way to make himself useful when the doorbell rang. Guests arrived in droves, many of them men around Eric’s age, but a few younger couples came too and a group of rowdy lesbians who kept grabbing Tim’s ass and calling him k.d. lang. The guests took care of themselves, for the most part. Waiters walked the room with champagne andhors d'œuvres,and soon Tim didn’t have to rush to the door every couple of minutes.
He mingled while waiting for Eric to join the party, taking note of the guests’ different reactions. Some of the older guys turned up their noses at him, perhaps preempting the attitude they expected. There were a lot of unfinished questions too, variations of “So you are Eric’s… ?”
“Friend” was the only answer he gave, although clearly most of Eric’s guests had already assumed otherwise.
Then there were the guys who hung on Tim’s every word, laughing a little too loud at his jokes, eyes darting down his body when they thought he wouldn’t notice. At least they were nice to him, even if it made him a little uncomfortable.
This made him realize just how rare someone like Eric was. He didn’t seem to want anything from Tim except companionship. So far, he hadn’t made a move or flirted seriously. He could have been straight, considering how little he reacted to Tim’s appearance.
Unlike the guy eyeing him from across the room right now. Tim was used to guys sneaking peeks, but this man was shameless, leering at him even when Tim looked his way.
The man was Eric’s age, but hadn’t taken care of himself. He was heavy, bearing in weight a lifetime of indulgence. His thick fingers were adorned by jewel-encrusted rings, his suit finely tailored, and his dark hair slicked back against natural curls, a few of which had broken free. If Eric had an opposite, this man was it. Tim couldn’t stop looking his way, mostly because he felt his constant gaze. This soon lured the man over.
“Marcello,” he said, extending a warm and slightly sweaty palm.
“Tim.”
“Tim!” Marcello repeated. “How nice to meet you. Eric said he had a new friend, but he failed to mention how young and attractive you are.”
“Maybe he was trying to protect me,” Tim said.
Marcello barked laughter at this, delighted at the subtle slight. “He may have been indeed. Well, it’s too late now. The secret is out. Are you still in college, Tim?”
Almost reluctantly, Tim answered the basic questions about himself while Marcello shamelessly sized him up like a prize bull. Tim wasn’t sure what to make of him. The name sounded foreign, but Marcello’s husky voice held no trace of accent.
“I deal in multimedia,” Marcello explained, swiping two glasses of champagne from a tray passing by. He handed one to Tim. “Art, really, stationary images or moving pictures. The Internet has revolutionized the way we experience art, don’t you think?”
“I’m not really sure.” The room applauded as Eric finally made an appearance.
Marcello kept his attention on Tim. “I mean that we don’t have to leave our homes to visit an exhibit or museum. We can enjoy all kinds of imagery from the privacy of our own homes, which of course has made people more honest about what they want to see. That’s the blessing of anonymity.”
“Funny,” Tim said. “I’ve found that the more anonymous a person is, the more free they feel to lie. Ever read a personal ad?”
Marcello barked laughter again. “Too true. I suppose anonymity makes people honest about what they want, but not what they are. I’m sure you’ve never felt the need to lie about your appearance, have you?”
“Oh, hello, Marcello!” Eric stepped between them. “So nice to see you. I’m afraid I need Tim’s help in the kitchen for a moment.”
Marcello bowed as if to royalty. “I’ve always said, Eric, that everyone enjoys your parties except for you. Try not to work so hard.”
“Tell me that again once you taste the turkey!”
They chuckled together politely before Eric led Tim down a hallway. “Sorry for interrupting,” he said, “but I didn’t want you being taken advantage of. Did he make you an offer already?”
“An offer?” Tim shook his head. “No.”
“Oh, he will.”
“That guy deals in porn, doesn’t he?”
Eric stopped walking and turned to face him. “Marcello has his fingers in a lot of pies. If it has to do with exploiting beautiful men, Marcello makes money from it.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not doing porn.”
“Good, but Marcello doesn’t deal only in pornography. He owns a modeling agency, for instance, and you can make good money at a photo shoot. That’s what I wanted to speak to you about. If he offers you a job, say no. At first. Marcello goes to ridiculous lengths to get what he can’t have. He won’t give up, so name an astronomical price. Money begins to lose meaning when you have as much as he does. Play your cards right, and you’ll easily be able to afford that cabin for Travis.”
