"I'M GLAD YOU called." Mark shook my hand as we walked into his office. "I ordered lunch. It should be here in a few minutes." The room we entered reminded me of old-money San Francisco. The walls were paneled in mahogany and trimmed with brass. Small gold tiles with the Harris Construction big H logo were embedded in the conference table. Persian rugs covered the marble floor, and the scent of leather from the couch and chairs mingled with Mark's spicy cologne.
I took a deep breath; memories of us surged in my brain. "Nice "view," I commented as I walked to the wall of glass to the left of his desk. The sky's cyan blue contrasted with the brown-rose stone and aqua windows of Wachovia's jukebox-shaped building; clumped behind that arched structure stood its brother tower of the same stone and glass but crowned with slanted clear glass panels that created prisms of sea blue and emerald green in the sunlight. In front of me and beyond the bank, Duke Energy's squat tan concrete and Ericsson Stadium's silver and deep blue underscored the distant airport and its swarming 737s.
Mark placed his hand on my shoulder from behind me. I shuddered. His hand rubbed the back of my head. "Your hair is so short."
"Yeah," I said turning to look at him, but he kept his hand there. "I wanted to-"
Pulling me closer, he kissed me. My mind exploded with confusion, desire, anger, and pleasure. I didn't pull away.
He stepped back. "I've been thinking-"
"What the hell was that?"
"Hold on," he smiled. "Seeing you again has brought up old feelings."
"Feelings?" I couldn't think. "What about-What about Kathleen? What about your future? What about the family?"
"Whoa, Derek. I just kissed you. I missed that; in fact, I've wanted to do it since I first saw you." He sat down on the couch with one arm draped across the back.
Choosing the chair across from him, I asked, "Are you saying you're gay now?"
"Just because a man kisses another man doesn't mean he's gay."
I laughed out loud. "It's a damn good indication."
"I'm open, fluid, maybe," he smiled, "in my attractions."
"Why are you telling me this? What's changed?" I hadn't decided if I should be happy or pissed off by his display.
"I just didn't want you to think we were over." Mark sat forward on the couch. "We can still get together like old times, if you want."
"Have you developed multiple personalities? What is this shit? Just two days ago in your father's campaign office, you were as straight as he is."
Mark bit his lower lip. "That's professional, political; this is me."
"And Kathleen and your reaction to the newspaper article?" Daniel flooded my mind.
"Again, I have parts of my life that are separate."
"Have you been having other," I searched for the right word to use, "relationships behind Kathleen's back? That can be dangerous to the 'other parts' of your life."
"Honestly? No. The risk has been too much, but you know me; you know how it is, and what's at stake."
I finally got it. "So, I'm your whore. The safe lay who knows to keep it a secret."
Marks face flushed. "No, that's not it."
"I know a fuck-buddy proposition when I hear it. No, Mark, that's not what I want. I'm a person who wants respect and love, not something hidden in the shadows that is never mentioned because of shame." I stood up and walked back to the window. Even after what he had proposed, I knew it would be difficult to tell him about Daniel. "Besides, I met someone here in Charlotte; someone I like a lot."
He came to me. "Who? Damn, you just got here a week ago." There wasn't anger in his voice; he was almost acting like a friend.
"A guy named Daniel. He works for the Observ-" I stopped myself, but it was too late.
"That reporter? The one who wrote the story?"
"Yeah, but he didn't mean for it-"
"Derek, what the hell are you thinking?" He plopped back down on the couch.
Before I could answer, the secretary knocked on the door and brought in a tray of food. "Lunch," she announced. In a half curtsy, she gently laid the tray on the conference table and placed the plates and drinks.
Mark and I were silent in her presence.
She finished her preparation and smiled. "Will there be anything else, Mark?"
"No, thanks, Becky." He walked to the table and sat down.
Becky closed the door behind her.
"Come, eat," Mark commanded.
"Daniel didn't mean to stir up trouble for me," I started. The plates of grilled chicken pasta and glasses of sweet iced tea looked enticing-new Charlotte meets old Charlotte, sweet tea served with everything.
"Forget Daniel Kaperonis for a minute," he said. "I hear you had a little trouble at the Observer building last night."
I froze. What? How did he know? Could he be the one? Composing myself as he stared at me, I knew he waited for me to admit or deny it. "Yes I did. In fact, I find it interesting that you know. Was it one of your goons?"
"Goons?" he laughed. "No, I don't have goons."
I drank some tea. "Having my life threatened and being assaulted isn't something I find funny."
"I'm sorry, but the story I heard was that you got locked in the basement by accident, and someone turned off the lights, then you ran into a bookcase and panicked." He grinned like it was all some big joke.
"Well, Mister Harris, your sources are wrong. My life was threatened. A man called Ruby's yesterday and told me to get out of town, and that faggots weren't welcome here. Now, in my book, you are part of the faggot family too, so don't act so smug."
The grin left his face.
"Then last night, when the lights went out, I heard the same voice telling me he was going to kill me. How would you like to be in pitch black and have someone come up behind you, saying that?"
He dropped his fork on his plate as if shocked. "Are you sure someone was actually there?"
"Mark, he tackled me to the ground; I barely got away. I've got the bruises to prove it. That asshole put the security guard in the hospital."
He sat back and shook his head. "I can't believe it. I'm sorry, that's not what I heard; I thought it was your imagination going wild. Just you being a drama queen."
"Drama queen? Where the hell did you hear that term?"
"I watch television. I know how gay men talk."
I laughed in spite of myself. "You are too much." My mind clicked back on the subject. "How did you hear about last night?"
" Charlotte 's a small town at heart. I hear a lot of things." He picked at his pasta, thought a moment, and then asked, "Who do you think it was?"
"You tell me. You seem to know quite a lot. Back to my question: Was it one of your goons?" I watched his face for the truth.
He didn't falter. "No. I had absolutely nothing to do with it."
"What about Vernon?"
"Dad? No way. You couldn't do anything to hurt Dad's campaign. The gay issue is a non-issue."
I wasn't sure if I believed him on that. "But, what about Mr. Sams?" I watched him again for signs of recognition.
"Who?" he asked, obviously oblivious.
"Our great-grandfather's gardener. He was lynched?"
He shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I found some of Walterene's old diaries…" The words flowed out: Mr. Sams' death, Vernon 's possible involvement, and the research I had attempted in the basement of the Observer building. A dam had burst. Relief washed over me now that I didn't have to keep everything to myself.
He rubbed his forehead and pushed his plate away from him. "That's insane. Dad would never do anything like that, and I can't believe Papa Ernest would either."
"I would like to think that, but I can't get by his bigotry-"
"Derek, you're talking murder; worse, you are talking a lynching of a black man, I can't-"
A hurried knock at the door interrupted him. Becky came rushing in. "Sorry, but it's Allen Harding again. Gary 's on his way up to talk to you."
"Thanks, Becky. Show Gary in as soon as he gets here." Mark went to his desk and dug through papers. Becky cleaned up lunch.
"I guess I better go." I helped Becky with the plates.
"Sorry, Derek, but Allen Harding is a pain in my ass. He's threatening to sue the company for firing him; he claims we cut corners on codes and paid off building inspectors. If we don't settle, he says he'll go to the city, county and state inspectors to report us."
As Becky closed the door behind her, I walked over to his desk. "Did you?"
"Hell no, but this type of publicity would be far worse than a gay nephew for Dad's campaign. Those diaries of Walterene's were written when she was just a girl; who knows what really happened? It isn't possible that things happened that way." He stopped his search through papers and pulled me close to him. "Derek," he whispered, "what we talked about today goes no farther than here. I admit I'm jealous of you seeing someone, but I'm not willing to make the sacrifices to get to where you are with your life."
''Mark, don't worry. You're always safe to talk to me about anything-" I hugged him hard.
Becky's crisp knock on the door brought in Gary from the legal department. I excused myself and walked down the hall to the elevator.
Our history, our lives bound us like brothers; he needed someone to be himself with. I had loved him once, and I had to admit I still had strong feelings. His split personality confused me, but one side would eventually win the conflict, and I was betting desire trumped duty.
BEFORE I LEFT the building, I decided to drop in on Tim. Searching the electronic directory, I found "Tim Mason, vice-president." Impressive for a big dickhead like my brother, I thought.
Tim's office was considerably smaller than Mark's and on a lower floor. He had no secretary, so I knocked on his open door.
"Squirt," he yelled from behind his desk, "get your butt in here."
"Hey, Tim. I thought I might just drop in to say 'hello.'" I held out my hand to shake his.
"What's up with the handshake?" He grabbed me in a bear hug. "Come sit down and visit." He dropped back down in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk. "It's Friday afternoon, and the weekend's calling my name."
"You sure are in a good mood," I commented. On his wall hung his fraternity paddle and an autographed photograph of Charlotte 's good ol' boy radio team, John Boy and Billy.
"Fridays mean I get out of this hellhole for a couple of days; you bet your ass I'm in a good mood." He grinned and shot a rubber band across the desk at me.
"You don't like working here?" I shot the rubber band back at him.
"It's a job, and I get paid well, but Vernon doesn't let me do much with the commercial side-that's where the big deals are. That's reserved for Mike, Mark, and Gerald."
"Gerald?" I asked. "How does Margaret's husband get better assignments than you?"
"Son-in-laws outrank nephews."
I almost repeated Daniel's rumor about Gerald running around on Margaret, but decided better of it. "What about that development you're doing out past Ballantyne?"
He straightened up in his chair and smiled. "You remembered that? Shit, Laura doesn't even remember my projects."
"You mentioned it at Walterene's funeral, said it was big."
"Yeah." He leaned back. "That residential development could make me millions."
"Don't you mean, make the company millions?" I prodded.
He leaned forward. "I get a percentage, that's part of my salary."
"Now, Tim, I wasn't implying anything else."
"Shit," drawn out in three syllables, "I keep my nose clean. I'll prove to Vernon that I can do just as well as Mike."
"What about Mark? How does he do?" I wondered how other people saw him.
"Pretty boy? He walks on water in Vernon 's eyes, but he never gets his hands dirty in the actual building business like me. Hey, you had dinner the other night at his place. What do you think about that hot little number he married?"
"Kathleen doesn't do a thing for me," I winked at him.
"Oh, yeah," he laughed, "I almost forgot the gay thing." He pulled up a company directory on his computer. "There's a guy in accounting who's gay, you want to meet him?"
"No, but thanks for thinking about me."
"That's okay. How's Ruby holding up?"
"I've seen her crying from time to time, but overall, Valerie and I are keeping her busy."
Tim scratched his head. "Yeah, that's tough for her; those two old maids depended on each other all their lives. I just hope Val doesn't end up like that."
"Valerie seems to be doing well for herself," I said, but I wondered if she was really happy; I hadn't had much time with her alone to talk about her state of mind.
"Yeah," Tim agreed.
"Yep," I couldn't think of much else to say to my brother, so I started to stand. "I better let you get back to work."
"Okay. Oh, has Mom said anything to you about Dad?"
The visual in my mind of Gladys the Bitch and me talking made me cringe. "No. What about Dad?"
"He's retiring and there's a party tomorrow night. You going?"
Damn her. "I wouldn't miss it. Do you think it would be okay for me to bring a date?"
Tim grabbed the phone. "You want me to call Jonathon in accounting?"
"No, I'll get my own, thanks."
I DROVE TO the Observer building to see if Daniel was in. Chills prickled my neck as I stood in the lobby waiting for the receptionist to call Daniel. He wasn't at his desk, so I decided to call him later.
Back at Ruby's, I asked her about Dad's retirement party.
"I haven't heard anything about it," she admitted. She folded her newspaper and set it next to her chair. "Of course, I'm not on everyone's guest list."
"Call Valerie. She should know about it." I wanted to go; why, I wasn't sure. Maybe to ruin Gladys' party, maybe to prove to everyone I was part of this family, or maybe just to see my father. He wasn't the most forceful man, especially with Gladys, but he'd always loved me. I knew that. The day Gladys the Bitch had banished me to Virginia, Dad had stuffed a note into my coat pocket. I found it once I settled into the dorm. He made sure I had his office phone number and a credit card. I never used the card, but knowing it and my father were available for me helped during some lean times.
Ruby punched in Valerie's work number and handed me the phone.
"Hey, Val, it's Derek. I saw Tim today, and he mentioned Dad's retirement party. Am I invited?"
"Well, it's not my party to invite… Yes, you are. It's tomorrow night at eight o'clock, 40th floor of the tower. You want to go as my date?" she asked.
I thought of Daniel and what a great spectacle we would make, but I didn't want Valerie to go alone. "That would be wonderful. What about Ruby? She didn't-"
"No, Derek, no," Ruby waved her hands at me. "I don't feel like any parties."
"Never mind," I told Valerie. "She's not up for it."
We made our plans, and I told her we would talk again the next morning. Those were my Saturday night plans, but I wanted to spend some time with Daniel. I called him at work to see if we could have dinner. His voicemail picked up.
"Hey Daniel, this is Derek. Just wondering if we could have dinner tonight. I'd love to see you." I left him Ruby's number and hung up.
She smiled at me. "You really like him, don't you?" "Sure. Last night was hectic with him working and me, well, I spent some time looking at old newspapers." I didn't want to worry Ruby over my near-death experience. "But, I would like to spend some quiet time getting to know him better."
I WAITED. THE phone didn't ring. As the afternoon wore on, I checked the phone to make sure it still worked. I considered calling again, but thought it would look too desperate. Finally, about five o'clock, I called his house to leave the same message.
I waited. The phone didn't ring. Ruby and I decided to fix dinner for ourselves. Was he mad at me? Maybe he had a deadline. Maybe he had been kidnapped by the scratchy-voiced man. He'd better have a damn good excuse.