That was encouragement enough for me.
“I have some other news,”I said as I placed the lit cigarette between his lips. We were still in bed with the hatch fully open to ventilate the room and offer us a glimpse of the starry night sky. Something you didn’t see too often in New York, stars.
“What is it?” He blew out a plume of smoke and handed it back to me. I hadn’t smoked since he’d left New York. It just wasn’t as satisfying to do it alone.
“The novel I was working on, I finished it.”
“Really?” He sat up in bed, his post-sex stupor suddenly gone. “Tell me all about it.”
“It takes place in New York City. It’s about a hard-nosed detective and an escort with a heart of gold.”
“Michael, you didn’t.” He attempted (and failed) to hide his delight.
“Oh yes, Arden, I did.”
“What’s the escort’s name?”
“Andrew.”
“Was that your father’s idea?”
“No, I write my own stuff, thank you very much.”
“And what’s this escort-named-Andrew like?”
“For one thing, he’s accused of murder.”
“No,” Arden protested with mock horror.
“Yes.”
“And just who is he accused of murdering?”
“A famous fashion designer with a penthouse in the Upper East Side.”
“Michael, how could you?” Arden shoved my chest playfully and then, despite himself, “How was he murdered?”
“How do you know it’s a he?”
He rolled his eyes. “Wild guess. And his name is Matthew, right?”
“Marco,” I corrected. “And to answer your question, blunt trauma. Blood splatters all over the snow-white marble. Unfortunately, the designer doesn’t have a very big role in this story. He gets murdered in the very first chapter.”
“You’re completely insane. What was the murder weapon?”
“It’s suspected to be a cylindrical object that may or may not have been a bronze dildo. We’re still waiting on the medical examiner’s report.”
Arden laughed deliriously. “You’re absolutely fucking with me now.”
I shook my head. I absolutelywasn’tfucking with him. “Guess what else?”
“What?”
“It’sextremelygay.”
He was bouncing on the bed like a little kid. “I love it already. I can’t wait to read it. But publishing takes so long,” he said with a little whine. I happened to have a printed manuscript with me, but that gift would come later. “Tell me what else happens,” he demanded.
“I don’t want to spoil it, but at the end, the dazzling, golden-haired escort makes off with his dead lover’s sailboat. And in his hasty attempt to get away, he doesn’t realize he’s been cleared of all charges, and that the real killer has been caught. Still, he’s a thief and a witness to murder, and so, in the second book, the detective has to chase him down to Nassau where he’s been hiding out. There may or may not be pirates involved.”
