At the Lincoln Tunnel, while they were sitting in traffic rounding the ramp that would lead them to the toll booth plaza, Michele glanced at Evan’s body and said, “I can’t believe how thin you are. I hate you.”
Evan laughed. “Maybe you should check into Havilland for twenty-eight days,” he said. “You’d be amazed at how rehab can kill your appetite.” He’d learned how to make jokes about Havilland. It was easier—and, he thought, healthier—than not talking about it at all.
But Michele tended to take his relapses more seriously, and she looked as if she were sorry she’d said that. She changed the subject and asked, “What did you think about most while you were there all that time?”
“Kenny,” Evan said. He didn’t have to think hard about that question. He’d thought about a lot of things, from chocolate to men. But the one person he’d thought about most had been his son.
Michele reached over and held his hand. She squeezed it and said, “He’s fine, and he’s excited about seeing you again.”
When they reached Evan’s neighborhood in the East Village, a group of rough-looking kids ran into the street waving sticks and Michele made a face. “I seriously wish you’d think about moving out of here once and for all. I heard of a great place in my neighborhood that’s going to be vacant in a few months. I’m sure Jeffery would buy it for you.”
Evan slowed down to wait for a parking space not far from his building. He’d seen a man get into a car and parking wasn’t easy to find at that time of day. While the rough-looking kids examined the long black Mercedes, Evan shrugged and said, “It’s home. And the rent is good. And you know I don’t like change. I feel comfortable here.”
Although a good deal of Alphabet City had changed for the better over the years, Evan lived on East 4th between Avenues C and D, and Michele seemed to think she took her life in her hands each time she braved the trip downtown. Brooklyn sent her into a panic that caused her voice to tremble and her hands to shake. She lived on the Upper East Side, in white Manhattan, where the women all had their hair colored in seven shades of blond and carried purses that cost more than a month’s rent for most people. Evan could have moved to a more upscale neighborhood. His estranged husband, Jeffery Charles, was worth billions and had even offered to buy Evan something. But Jeffery had always been one of Evan’s problems and he wanted to keep things simple in that respect.
Evan lived in what was called a “walk-up,” which meant there wasn’t an elevator. Between the fourth and fifth floor, Michele clutched the stair rail and said, “We might have to stop for a break. You’re killing me with these fucking stairs.”
“It’s not that bad,” Evan said. He took her hand and pulled her toward the next flight of steps. “I only live on the sixth floor. It’s good exercise.” He didn’t mention the fact that Michele had a personal trainer and that she went to a gym four times a week to do cardio. She should have been in better shape after spending all that time and money. Evan went to a gym to work out with weights, but he got all the cardio he needed just by walking up and down those steps, or jogging around his neighborhood, and he got it for free.
By the time they reached the sixth floor, Michele pulled a handkerchief out of her purse and dabbed her neck. They rounded a corner and Evan glanced at the end of the hall and saw the door to his apartment wide open. He pointed and said, “I hope this means Cadin is in there waiting for us, because if he’s not we might be in trouble.”
Cadin Wright was another one of Evan’s closest friends. He’d met Cadin at a bar seven years earlier and he’d tricked with him. At the time, Evan had been on one of his drunken binges. This was right before his first trip to Havilland. Although Cadin and Evan had never been lovers in a relationship, they’d had sex more than once and they referred to each other as fuck buddies in a campy, sarcastic way.
When they entered Evan’s apartment and found Cadin haplessly arranging a bouquet of flowers on the small dining table outside the kitchen, they both took a deep breath and exhaled at the same time. Michele crossed to where Cadin was standing and gave him a push. She went right to work arranging the flowers and said, “How can you be so damn helpless? I have never met such a donkey of a gay man in my life. You remind me of my first husband. That sonofabitch couldn’t even put the juice back in the refrigerator.”
Cadin turned toward Evan and smiled. “I can’t help it if I’m not good with flowers, or cooking, or picking out the right clothes. I’m a man. I have other talents that you’ll never know about.” Then he crossed the room and threw his arms around Evan.
It felt food to be held by a strong handsome man again. Cadin did have other talents, and those talents surpassed cooking, shopping, and flower arrangement. He stood about six feet tall in bare feet, had thick black hair he parted on the side, and a body that made people stop and stare when he jogged down the street with his shirt off. He lived in Brooklyn and worked in a family construction business that focused on remodeling kitchens for highend clients in Manhattan. And he had the thick rough calluses on his palms to prove it.
Evan sank into his strong chest and closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s so good to see you. I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed my friends so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”
Cadin smacked Evan on the ass in a playful way and said, “Of course I’m here. I’m your hero and you know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Evan hugged him tighter and said, “And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you either.”
“Then marry me,” Cadin said. This had become a running joke between them. Although they were good in bed together, and they loved each other, they weren’t in love with each other. But that didn’t stop Cadin from asking Evan to marry him at least once or twice a week.
Evan released Cadin and stepped back. He looked him up and down and said, “It’s too soon. We have an agreement, remember?” They’d both agreed that if they reached the age of fifty and neither of them were in a serious relationship they would get married and live together. “Besides, I’m already married and I love my husband.”
Cadin frowned. “Don’t remind me.” Cadin had never hidden his dislike for Evan’s husband, Jeffery.
“He’s not that bad. We have a wonderful child together.” Evan had to work hard to look at the brighter side of his marriage to Jeffery. Although Jeffery had always been generous with money and material things, he’d never been faithful or dependable. It stung a little that Jeffery hadn’t bothered to show up at the apartment to greet him on his first day back. But this was something Evan had grown accustomed to over the years and he wasn’t surprised.