Page 5 of The Betas: Rene
For form, he asked, “Pardon, I didn’t hear you…”
“Eventually we get to make love, don’t we?” Frankie’s eyes begged for the right answer.
“Eventually, when we commit to one another.”
Frankie nodded. “I don’t know why I’m agreeing to this after knowing you only an afternoon except that I like you more than I’ve liked any other man I’ve ever met. I told my mother once that I didn’t intend to live like a monk, but I’ve already agreed to live like one for you. I don’t understand myself.” Frankie’s gaze trailed downward, and he batted at the air.
René frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Damn thread. I thought it was a floater in my eye, but it’s not. My mother was doing embroidery when I saw her this morning, she must have been using gold metallic thread, but I can’t catch the damn thread to get it off me.” Frankie batted at the air again. “I’ve probably got thread all over the back of my suit. Once I went over there, and she was using pink. It covered my slacks. The men laughed behind my back all day.”
René chuckled. “I’ve sat in Elena’s Play-Doh and had it on my ass all day with Martin snickering until Sean took pity and told me what was wrong.”
Frankie grinned. “Ugh, that’s worse than thread. Did you get it off your suit?”
“We were at the ranch, so I was in jeans, and it washed out. I don’t know what would have happened with a suit.” René grabbed Frankie’s shoulder. “Would you like to go out to dinner?”
§ § §
Frankie’s couldn’t help sniffing the air. René smelled good. Italian spices…sweet basil, oregano…René smelled like home. Frankie scanned the room. Spotting Henri, he told René, “Sounds good but I have to say goodbye to Henri, Vitas, Julien, and Richard.” René squeezed Frankie’s shoulder, and together they started to cross the room. Frankie gazed longingly at the buffet. “I shouldn’t be so hungry, we just ate.”
“I have to tell Martin and Armand that I’m leaving. I’ll meet you at the front door, and we’ll discuss where to go. Don’t worry.” René laughed, it sounded musical. “I’ll feed you,” he said.
“Sounds like a plan.” Frankie walked close behind him. He felt absurdly happy.
§ § §
The Old Homestead Steakhouse
They decided to go to the Old Homestead by Chelsea Market. The Homestead specialized in beef, and Frankie discovered they both liked medium rare red meat. A taxi brought them downtown. The maître d’ knew René and gave them a private corner table.
“Can I order for us?” René asked. Frankie nodded, and the waiter hurried over to their banquette. “Good evening, George.”
“Good evening, Mr. DuBois. Your brother and Mr. Kellerman are elsewhere this evening?” George inquired.
“They are at the wedding reception we left. We snuck out early to enjoy some of your steak. George, this is Mr. Ferone, you’ll be seeing him often.” George raised an eyebrow and René stared him down. The waiter lowered his gaze to his pad.
“We’ll take the Oysters Rockefeller, the Shrimp Tempura, two onion soups, two beet salads and the Prime Porterhouse steak for two, medium rare.”
“Would you care for something to drink, Mr. DuBois?”
René gazed over to Frankie. “We’ll have two Sex on the Beach.” Frankie smiled back warmly at his date.
“We’ll examine the dessert menu after we eat.” René closed the menu and gave it back to the waiter.
“I don’t think I can eat all that, but I won’t complain. At the rate I’m eating today, I’ll finish.”
René scrutinized the wine list. “Shall I send the sommelier, sir?”
“Yes, George.” He turned to Frankie. “Do you like Bordeaux?”
“I like wine, but I don’t know much about it.”
The sommelier crossed the room to their table. “Good evening, Mr. DuBois.”
René nodded. “Hello, Reynaud, this is my friend, Mr. Ferone.”
Reynaud didn’t bat an eye. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ferone.” The sommelier nodded.
