“Admire, huh?”
“Just meet her. Talk to her and if there’s nothing, no...spark, then walk away.” She held his face, shook him slightly. “I’m glad I chose your father and I don’t want you denied the chance to find what more could be waiting for you. Whatever you choose, we'll love you.”
Stone leaned forward in his chair, slowly pulling both hands through his hair. “This could be bad business for dad.”
“How well do you know your father? Do you really believe he will care?”
“No.” Stone shook his head, the argument dissolving as quickly as it had formed. Another concern soon took its place. “Vale knows.”
Athena stiffened. “How?”
Stone shook his head. “He’s got a talent for lurking-other than that, I don’t know. He’s always made funny remarks, but it wasn’t until he showed me a news story about a fire at the Stonewall that I knew.”
“Stone-wall?” Athena was confused.
“It was an old inn in the city. Now...a kind of club for um...people like me.”
“Has he threatened you with this?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then put it out of your head. I will handle your brother. You just have your date book clear and be here Saturday afternoon.”
“Ma-”
“Next Saturday night, Stone.”
He rolled his eyes and slouched back in the chair. “Is it that important to you?”
“It’s that important to me.”
Again, Stone rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “I’ll be here. I can’t make any promises about-”
“Shh,” Athena put a kiss to his mouth and nudged his nose with hers. “Just be here. I’ll take care of the rest.”
~42~
Pitch moved out on his own the summer after his 18th birthday. It was a nice enough place- a split level loft near the wharf. He didn’t spend much time there, being between Harlem at his grandmother’s and the occasional trip to Brooklyn to see his mother when his stepfather was away.
Since he’d met Candace, the loft had taken on new importance. He didn’t want to be renting hotel rooms to have time alone with her. He wanted to be at home with her. Preferably, his own home.
Wasn’t that a laugh, he thought while shoving a pair of old socks into the bathroom hamper. He wanted to be home. Did he have one clue of what home was supposed to be? Yes. His grandmother loved, treasured and protected him to this day. Home had always been wherever Bettina George was. She never let him forget that.
He never thought he could feel that way about another person and then there was Candace Strong. He’d most likely terrify her if he told her how much he wanted to be with her. He recalled the horror in her pretty eyes when he told her he loved her and she said she loved him...
Pitch cursed when he heard the doorbell. He dashed Candace’s thoroughly distracting image from his mind and sprinted down the wrought iron staircase separating the upper and lower levels.
“The dead has arisen!” Pitch called in greeting when the dark metal door opened to his guest.
“Fuck off,” Roman barely grunted while trudging over the threshold.
“Gonna have to work on your manners in other folks' homes, Mr. Tesano.” Pitch slammed his door shut.
“You asked me here, remember?” Weariness mixed with mild expectancy in Roman’s dark eyes. “You said this was about Pop. Somethin’ else goin’ on with Uncle Em?”
“No, things are quiet there right now. This is about you. Pop’s worried.”
Roman shrugged, dropping into one of the leather armchairs facing the floor model Zenith.
Pitch joined his brother in the living room. “When’s the last time you showered?”
“Like you can smell me over whatever’s marinating in here?” Roman threw back.
Pitch smirked, nodding while quiet approval softened his features. “Haven’t lost your shitty ass sense of humor, guess there’s some hope.”
“Hey, lay off, alright? I’m not in the mood for a pep talk.” Roman stood.
“Sit your ass down,” Pitch only grinned when he noticed Roman bracing for a confrontation. “Try it, little brother.” He urged, undaunted by the show of rebellion. “It’s been too long since I’ve had the pleasure of breaking you in half-I’ve missed it.”
Roman’s glare wavered as though he were making a mental recap of those attacks. He sat.
Pitch pushed to his feet then. Grinning wolfishly now, he moved behind Roman’s chair and ruffled his hair. “Good boy.”
Roman jerked away from the contact. “Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ll take a shower, alright?”
“You know that’s not it,” Pitch went to the kitchen and began to set out cold cuts and other fixings for sandwiches. “How long are you plannin’ to waste away to shit, huh? You’ve been crawling deeper into this rabbit hole since we left Chicago. She’s gone, Ro.”
“I know that.”
