“You’re saying itwasn’t?”
Feeling his face warm with embarrassment, Colin squinted, quirked his mouth, then shrugged. “I’m not saying anything,” he muttered, then shrugged again. “I dunno. Maybe. Not consciously, for sure.”
“Colin, youmustknowthat Nate would never leave David and the girls.”
Colin stared at the far wall for a moment, then sighed. “Idoknow that. But what Ifeelis…” He squinted and shook his head. “Hard to define.”
“Head versus heart,” Joshua murmured. “The age-old dilemma.” He bent his head and kissed Colin’s bare shoulder, then glanced around and grimaced in distaste. “Holy Moses!”
“Yeah. This bed…”
“…needs to be changed,” Joshua finished for him.
“We just need to lose the comforter,” Colin muttered, clambering to his feet.
“Colin, wait,” Joshua said, grabbing his hand. “Thank you for tonight. You made it wonderful. And please don’t fret about Nate.”
Colin bent and kissed him. “I’m gonna take a shower.” He breathed out a sigh and ruffled Joshua’s hair. “Nate’ll be fine,” he said, then moved toward the bathroom. “And so will I.”
Joshua watched him walk away, then stood and ripped the comforter off the bed. “Sureyou will.”
* * *
The following night,hundreds of miles away in New York City, Nate squirmed on the leather sofa and tried to get comfortable, then he drew in a deep breath. “I want to gohome.”
He had spoken to David only minutes before and had worked hard to fake a cheerful demeanor for his husband, assuring him that the trip so far had been eventful but not overly demanding. David had arranged to have the following weekend off, and they talked at length about how to work a bit of sightseeing into Nate’s increasingly jammed schedule.
“I’m not bringing the girls this time,” David had told him. “Which pissed them off to no end. Butthistime, I want it to be just you and me.”
“Well,thatsounds like a slice of heaven,” Nate told him. “But do give my sweet baby girls my love, OK?”
David promised he would, and they both hung up.
Nate looked around the room and then blew out a semi-annoyed breath. The suite his producer had secured for him consisted of two enormous rooms and an equally enormous bath. The decor was ultramodern. Classy white leather furniture surrounded glass-topped tables supported by shining chrome frames. It had the expensive look common to pretentious magazines that focused on the homes of the ‘rich and famous’.
“Of which I amneither,” Nate grumbled. He propped his feet on the glass top of the fancy coffee table, and stared across the room to the marble fireplace. “You turn the flame up with adial,” he muttered, his voice weary.
David’s large Charlottesville home was a local showplace. The house was inviting and comfortable, with a decor that leaned more toward cozy and warm than modern and luxurious. The color scheme was earthy. Browns, tans, yellows, and greens were offset with the occasional touch of maroon. And the fireplace held wood which was lit by hand.
Nate studied the stylish off-white walls, glass and chrome accents, and voguish furniture that would surround him for the next two months and moaned, “My god, you could do open-heartsurgeryin this room.” He wandered to the bedroom and began to undress, thinking back to the day’s events.
His producer, Ursula Rugby, and his director, Ross Tanner had picked him up at the airport and given him a whirlwind tour of the Westside Theatre, where his play would be presented, and of Ursula’s offices, which would serve as the business center for the production company.
The Westside Theatre was on 43rd Street near 9th Avenue and not far from Hell’s Kitchen. Its brick facade reminded Nate of a church, but the interior was large and contained two theaters: the Upstairs Theater, which seated 270, and the Downstairs Theater, where Nate’s play would be produced. This playhouse had a seating capacity of 249. It was unusual in that it featured a ‘thrust stage’ that extended into the audience on three sides and was connected to the backstage area by its upstage end in the rear.
Nate’s heart rate soared when he saw the thrust stage, which provided much greater intimacy between performers and their audience. He was overjoyed that his first venture in an off-Broadway production provided this advantage.
After the tour, Ursula and Ross took him to dinner at a restaurant near the theater, where the three talked about their upcoming production. Nate’s final contract was in the hands of the Dramatists Guild’s legal department. It would be faxed to Matt Garrett, along with the Dramatists Guild recommendations, in the next day or two.
“Then you just have to sign it, and we can get started,” Ursula told him. “We’ve got a few local actors already lined up to audition, and we’ll get that process started the minute the ink’s dry.”
“In the meantime,” Ross Tanner said, leaning toward him. “I’d like to go over the script with you. I’ve made some notes and am excited to get your thoughts on them.”
Nate leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes studying the director, wondering as he did if David had been right that Tanner was not only gay but interested. “That’d be great, Ross,” he replied. “But not tonight. I don’t do well on travel days, and I’m beat.”
Tanner hastened to reassure him that they could meet at Ursula’s office the next day to review his notes, and after they finished dinner, they escorted Nate to his hotel.
Now, gazing out the window at the stunning spectacle of Manhattan, Nate struggled to hold back his tears. The tall, glistening buildings were beautiful. The blazing lights of this iconic city seemed to welcome him, inviting him to become part of its legend. “If I can make ithere,” Nate paraphrased to himself. And yet, the tears still stung his eyes. “These are not my mountains,” he whispered. And he longed with all his heart for the green rolling vistas of the Blue Ridge Mountains and the sweet, clear waters of the lake beside David’s cabin.
