Jake sent a vintage Stones T-shirt; Michael, a book on the evolution of rock and roll; and Colton gifted Henri with a reproduction samurai sword.
“That is so cool!” Sebastian held the sword aloft to admire the workmanship while Henri unwrapped an oddly flat package from Lucas. Oh shit. He slid the gift under the couch before Seb noticed. Seb’s yawn offered a perfect out.
“It’s getting late. Why don’t I get you settled in?”
Sebastian placed the sword on a nearby chair. “I suppose I could use a shower before bed.”
Henri tuned out the gasps and “ohs!” while showing his lover the rest of the architectural nightmare he wouldn’t call “home.” They trudged up a willies-inducing curved staircase, the acrylic steps giving the illusion of walking on air. Garlands on the handrail lent a more solid appearance. Who the fuck thought invisible stairs were a good idea?
For the first month or so after moving in, Henri had enjoyed the glass outside wall of his room, which, at night, afforded a good view of the lights of LA. Times had changed. Who might even now be sitting in the bushes across the street, with binoculars trained on his every move? He shuddered, closed the blinds, and turned away, only to see himself in a wall of mirrors. Whoever’d built the place must’ve owned a massive ego, if the mirrors throughout the home were any indication.
A bed big enough for four took up a small fraction of the floor space. Funny, Henri had been more comfortable in the modest double bed with Seb in Colorado. At least he couldn’t see through the floors up here, where acrylic gave way to marble.
Sebastian stood in the middle of the room, mouth open, slowly turning. “Oh my God. I’ve never seen a room quite like this one.”
Henri found his dwelling hideous. How odd to hope Sebastian liked the place. “Does that mean ‘oh my God, I love it?’ or ‘where’s a wrecking ball when you need one’?”
“It’s… it’s not you.” A wrinkle formed between Seb’s brows. “Or is it?”
“It’s not. It never was.” The wrinkle smoothed. “It’s something my mo… manager talked me into.”
Like Sebastian’s room, no pictures adorned the walls—Henri never figured out how to hang them on glass and mirror tiles. If not for the magazines and other effects stacked on any available surface, his room might have had even less personality than Seb’s.
Now wasn’t the time to point out Seb’s lack of luggage. “The bathroom’s through there if you want to take a shower, and there’s a robe hanging right inside the closet. I’m going to clear up downstairs and be right back.” Henri kissed Sebastian, holding on perhaps longer than necessary. Sebastian. Here in his room. But for how long?
He trotted back down the ghastly stairs, ears tuned for running water, and retrieved Lucas’s gift. A picture, in a tarnished silver frame. A woman who must have been Seb’s mother held a chubby-cheeked infant in her arms—an infant with soft copper fuzz on his head destined to darken into Seb’s now-auburn locks.
No telling how Sebastian would react to seeing what just might be a father’s way of giving his blessing. Oh shit! Seb’s father! Henri reached into his pocket for his cell phone to tell Lucas Seb was safe. Hell, where had he put his phone? He patted his pockets, but no phone. When had he last seen it? Oh yeah, when Seb had arrived at the gates. But he couldn’t recall seeing it after then. He must have dropped the thing in the yard.
While he’d entertained Seb, night had fallen. His housekeeper kept a flashlight in the pantry, but no matter how hard he searched, Henri couldn’t find his phone.
No problem. He kept a spare in his bedroom.
He returned to the living room. Seb must still be in the shower. A few presents remained under the tree. His new recording studio had sent champagne, along with news Lucas had hinted at: “Ice Inside” had scored the fifth spot in the weekly top-twenty countdown. Nice!
Various other music types had sent gifts of wine and food. He’d eat the food and regift the wine. He didn’t need temptation in the house—other than Seb.
He didn’t receive even a card from any of his former bandmates, not that he’d expected them. Still, Seb’s presence made this the best Christmas in recent memory.
The ornaments glittered a bit brighter; the sappy carols Sebastian insisted on playing lightened the mood. Sebastian appeared in the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist and voice as decadent as ever. He did justice to a rousing rendition of “Joy to the World.” Henri joined in on harmony, their voices merging, becoming one. The song ended. Sebastian said, “Merry Christmas, Henri.”
“I have a gift for you.”
“You shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”
Yes, you did. You showed up.“You can owe me. Have a seat.”
Sebastian perched on the edge of the couch, one brow raised and his legs open enough for Henri to hope for a cough or sneeze to reveal all. Okay, no perving on Christmas.
“I hope you like it.” Henri handed over the professionally wrapped package. His own wrapping skills sucked big-time.
Always meticulous, Sebastian peeled the tape off the paper and slowly unwrapped the gift, a Christmas gift strip tease. Finally, he opened the paper to peer inside. “You got me an e-reader?”
Was that a good reaction or a bad one? “You said you like paper novels, but I figured, as much as you travel, this might be easier to carry around more books.”
Sebastian scrolled through the preloaded listing. “Hitchhiker’s Guide,Stranger in a Strange Land.” He glanced up at Henri.
“Uh…. I didn’t know exactly what you liked beside sci-fi, so I tried to give you a variety.”
