The Hell Yo - lanyon Josh (бесплатные версии книг .txt) 📗
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If Hansen was that forsaken at the end, what chance did the rest of us have, especially
those who had never quite managed to find someone to share their life? I tried to cheer
myself by reflecting that with my heart there was no way I’d make it to eighty anyway. The
problem was, I couldn’t imagine feeling much more alone than I did right then.
I blinked. My eyelids felt weighted. How could eyelashes be so heavy? I blinked again.
The smart move would be to pull over and nap for five minutes, but I wanted to get home.
My God, it was a long way away. A long, unraveling way that kept rolling, winding
through the empty blackness. On and on and on.
Easiest thing in the world to stop fighting sleepiness, to close my eyes for a moment, to
let go.
It would be all over in two minutes. Slam. All she wrote. The end. Nobody left with
anything to regret or be guilty about because anyone could have an accident on this road.
They probably wouldn’t find the car for days. The trees were so dense down that
mountainside. Maybe they’d never find the car.
Wouldn’t it be a kind of relief? No more struggling against the tide. No more dead of
night fears about winding up ill and helpless and alone. No more anything.
Gravel spat under the tires. I corrected quickly, instinctively.
As I merged onto the I-210 East heading toward Pasadena, I thought, I wish I’d known
about the blog, Joe. I’d have written you .
Chapter Twenty-three
“Can I get off early tonight?” Velvet asked on Saturday morning. “I have a big party to
go to.”
Bad timing. I had been hoping to slip out of there early myself, to get ready for Lisa’s
shindig at Mondrian’s. But considering how much time Velvet had put in covering for my
extracurricular activities, I could hardly say no.
Though this was the busiest shopping weekend before Christmas, the day passed
without incident, which was saying something these days.
Velvet took off about three, and by the time I had dealt with the last customer, I was
running late.
I went upstairs and dusted off (literally) the tuxedo. That’s one of the advantages of
having a society dame for a mother: you don’t have to rent the monkey suit.
I showered, shaved, and spent about ten minutes chasing shirt studs. And another five
minutes swearing over cufflinks. This is where another guy would come in useful. Or maybe
just a valet.
I drove over to Mondrian’s, left the Forester with the usual aspiring model-slash-valet,
and made my way to the SkyBar, which was already packed with a well-dressed older crowd.
Big Band music floated from the clouds. Candles twinkled in trees.
I was instantly snared by Lisa, looking bridal in white silk. She had Dauten in tow.
Dauten made the tuxedo look like a monkey suit for real.
“Darling.” She offered a scented cheek and whispered, “You’re the handsomest man in
the room.”
Dauten offered a beefy hand. “Adrien.”
“Bill.”
We shook.
Lisa frowned. “Is Jake with you?”
“No.”
That posed a dilemma for her. She wasn’t keen on Jake, but she wasn’t keen on being
dissed either. Before she could react, we were joined by Natalie, looking fetching in an
unnervingly short iridescent blue shift. She had glittering blue flowers in her hair.
“Wow, you look spiffy,” she informed me.
Spiffy? Did that translate to “not bad for an old guy?” I said, “You look spiffy too.”
We all laughed gaily, and I wondered where the hell the bar was. As the latest influx of
guests separated us from our parental units, Natalie said, “Our plan is working beautifully.”
“I can see that.”
“Daddy’s over the moon.”
I glanced back at the stoic-looking Dauten.
“So where’s this mystery man we’ve heard about? Lisa said he’s a detective.”
“Did she?” I glanced around. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”
“Oh, the drinks are fabulous!” She chattered blithely on while I steered her to the bar.
She continued to chatter while we sipped our drinks. I was watching the crowd, mulling the
possibility that I might actually be the only gay person in the entire gathering, when her
smile faded.
“Uh-oh.” Her hand fastened on my arm. “Let’s go say hi to Lauren.”
Lauren, looking like Hollywood royalty, stood with a giant Ken doll. At least that was
my first impression. When he moved, I realized only his hair was plastic. They seemed to be
arguing in that intense, but expressionless way that couples do in public, but as soon as
Lauren spotted us she forced a smile.
“We were beginning to think you had gotten lost,” she greeted me.
“No such luck.”
Her smile was perfunctory. “Brad, this is Adrien, Lisa’s son. Adrien, this is my
husband –”
Brad said curtly, “Excuse me,” brushing past.
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“Laurie,” Natalie began, but Lauren cut her off sharply.
“Don’t say it!” Her eyes glittered with a mix of fury and tears. At my expression, she
blinked rapidly, forced a smile. “He’s under a lot of pressure. That wasn’t personal. So! You
didn’t bring anyone?” She looked past me to the ghost at my shoulder – my usual escort.
“He had to work.” For now and forever.
“Adrien’s being mysterious about this guy,” Natalie said. She shook her head
disapprovingly. “You need to lay down the law, Adrien.”
No pun intended? I said, “Are you an expert?”
“I’m an expert in what not to do,” Natalie said cheerfully. She and Lauren did one of
those wordless exchanges. She wrapped her arm around mine and gave me a quick hug: a
disarming gesture.
“Come on and meet the rest of the family.”
“There are more of you?”
They laughed at my ill-disguised horror, and I did Lauren a favor and let Natalie drag
me off.
There really weren’t an unreasonable number of relatives; in fact, the majority of the
guests were business and social acquaintances of both Dauten and Lisa. There were a number
of beautiful male and female versions of Natalie and Lauren who turned out to be cousins.
Apparently the good-looks gene skipped a generation, because Dauten’s brother and a
sister – pretty much indistinguishable – looked like Bill.
