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Sam rubbed his hands over his face, petting his beard; he looked full of thought. "I wish you spoke Italian. This
would be so much easier to tell you."
Thad felt a sense of relief. And the language was not a problem. He understood. And now so much made sense,
especially the hastily convened trip to New York, probably to talk about how to solve the problem that was
Domenic. Early on, Sam didn't want to see Thad and it was most likely because he was afraid of what Domenic
would think. It was probably difficult for the poor man to be trapped between two grown men, both of whom he
loved.
So Sam had sent Domenic back to Sicily. Maybe it was just easier all around. Maybe Domenic wanted to go. Maybe
the idea of living here in the States and watching his father with a boyfriend was intolerable.
Of course they were not killers. Of course they were not werewolves. Even if one was running around Seattle on full
moon nights, it wasn't Sam or part of his family. Thad felt a laugh, borne of relief, bubble up and spring from
between his lips. "I am so sorry about your trouble with Domenic."
"It's hard. But he will eventually come around."
Just then, he heard shouting in the kitchen and the clatter of pans crashing to the floor. Sam looked in the direction
of the kitchen, then back at Thad. "I will be right back."
Sam hurried away from the table. Thad rose slightly to peer over the counter that looked on the glassed-in kitchen
and saw that a small grease fire had started. The kitchen stuff bustled around, near hysteria, as Sam grabbed a fire
extinguisher and worked on putting out the flames. The other diners in the restaurant fell to silence as they all turned
their heads to take in the kitchen drama.
Thad hadn't even noticed her approach, but suddenly Graziela stood near his table. She looked down at him with her
dark eyes and smiled, yet she was shaking her head. "Didn't my brother even offer you a little something to eat?"
"Oh he did. But I wasn't hungry."
Graziela made a tsk-tsk sound. "Not hungry? A big, strong man like you?" Graziela snorted. "In my country, women
learn to feed their men. I am gonna go back and fix you up a big bowl of pasta fagioli and you will eat. Okay?" For
once, Graziela gave him a smile that appeared to be both genuine and warm.
"Okay. I guess I have to learn you don't say no to food from an Italian."
"Especially an Italian woman. It is, how do you say it, in our genes to force food on people."
The two of them laughed, and Graziela seemed just about to move away from the table when Thad said, "I guess
you got that trait from your Nana."
"Oh yes, and my Mama, too. You want me to bring you some cheese for your pasta fagioli? There's lots in it
already, but I like a little on top...and some olive oil, too."
"That sounds wonderful." Thad found that now he had cleared the air with Sam, he actually was hungry, and the spit
that had been so rare in his mouth just a few minutes ago was now back with a vengeance. "How is she, by the
way?"
Graziela stopped in her course to the kitchen and turned around. She cocked her head. "How is who?"
"Your Nana."
Graziela shrugged. "Okay, I guess. What makes you ask?"
"Well, you guys just visited her, right?" Thad thought he was just making conversation with Sam's sister, but didn't
like the look of confusion clouding her features.
"What do you mean?"
"Weren't you just out there--in New York--over the weekend?"
"No. I don't know where you got that notion. We haven't seen Nana in a long time."
It felt like someone had punched Thad in the stomach. He had to be sure. "And Sam didn't go visit?"
"No. No, of course not. Where is all this coming from?" Graziela appeared genuinely confused.
Thad wondered if the chill he felt flow through him showed on his skin, if he looked clammy and pale. "Nowhere.
Never mind." Sam lied to me. Why? The idea of food, even the most delicious food, seemed repugnant to him now.
"I'll go get your supper, Thad."
"Never mind. I'm not so hungry anymore." The clatter and bustle in the kitchen seemed to have died down and Thad
knew Sam would be returning to the table any minute. He didn't know if he could face him, not without flying into a
rage or bursting into tears.
If he wasn't in ew York, where was he? Where were all of them?
He thought of asking Graziela, but didn't feel comfortable with that idea. He just wanted, more than anything, to get
out of the Blue Moon Cafe, so he could breathe once more and lick his wounds.
Graziela laughed, obviously not spotting the terror on his face. "What did I just tell you, young man? You are
eating!" And she started off toward the kitchen.
Thad called after her. "Graziela!"
"Yes?" She looked back at him, over her shoulder.
"Where's Domenic?"
Her expression clouded over. "What do you know about that?"
"Sam just said he went back to Sicily." Was that too a lie?
"Well then you already know where Domenic is." Graziela hurried off to the kitchen.
And Thad hurried out the door--into the night, into the rain, into a world unencumbered with lies, doubts, and
misgivings. At least until he got home.
What was going on?
Chapter 14
ovember
"So I haven't seen him since that night. I miss him so much, but I just don't know that I can abide a liar. I don't know
what the fuck's going on."
Thad took a sip of his dirty martini, his third of the night, and looked over at Jared, perched on the bar stool next to
him. They were at the Cell, a dark and once-smoky leather bar on Pine Street. The place had gritty hardwood floors,
Colt and Tom of Finland posters on the walls, and a St. Andrews cross in one corner. Techno music played softly
from the bar's stereo system. Video monitors played endless loops of soft-core leather porn. Jared had called Thad
earlier and announced that he was ready to go out again. The poor thing had not seen the inside of a bar since the
fateful night he'd seen his latest trick being literally devoured by a monster. Jared had also not seen a man naked
since that night, and it was beginning to get on his nerves.
Thad was only too glad to join him. Ever since he had discovered that Sam had lied about his weekend away from
him, he didn't know what to do. It had turned what he had thought had been a relationship with a lot of promise on
its head. Yet Thad could not shut his feelings off like a spigot simply because they were inconvenient; he still
thought of Sam in loving and lustful terms.
And then he would think of how Sam had told him, in detail, of the family trip to New York...a trip that had never
happened. Confusion and doubt shadowed everything Thad had thought to be true. He wondered what else Sam had
lied to him about.
Of course, Sam had tried to make it up to him. He had called, he had sent flowers, a basket of anise-scented biscotti
and a bottle of vino santo. Hell, he had even shown up on his doorstep more than once, begging forgiveness.
And Thad would have forgiven him, if Sam had only come clean. But the closest thing he could get to an
explanation from Sam was that there were things he couldn't talk about with him, not yet. But he promised that, in
due time, he would explain everything to Thad.
In due time?
That wasn't good enough.
So Thad remained in limbo. His feelings for Sam prevented him from moving on, from making a break, from seeing
other men. But at the same time, he wasn't sure what he was doing. Was he in a relationship or not?
So when the old Jared had called earlier tonight, full of good cheer, horniness, and humor, Thad knew his friend
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