Smile Like You Mean It - 4. Four

Chapter Four

Bruno had (more or less) successfully gotten Waylon off his mind since their encounter. It hadn’t been easy; which was the reason that the ginger’s first reaction at seeing the handsome detective at Loren Hunt’s memorial was one of dismay.

It wasn’t that the detective had become unappealing. In fact, Waylon looked incredible; more rested than the last two times Bruno had seen him, his large, powerful form was clothed in a sharply tailored gray suit, his gleaming dark hair looked freshly cut, and a close shave accented his strong jaw. He was with another man, maybe a few years older, with slightly shaggy hair and a rumpled jacket.

“Why is…” Bruno stopped himself before using Waylon’s first name. He had no intention of letting Shane know what had transpired the other night, so decided it would be better to keep things formal “....why is Detective Venturi here?”

“Waylon?” Shane asked, turning to look in the direction of his friend’s gaze. Spying the detective, Shane waved to him. “He said he planned to come by. He’s working on the case.”

“Oh, I see. And who’s that with him?”

“That’s his partner. Bob Rodriquez. He’s okay, but not exactly the friendliest. And definitely not the gay friendliest.” And the scowling cop did seem uncomfortable with the crowd, which included several drag queens.

With that information, Bruno willed himself to look away from Waylon, determining not to go greet him. The ginger did not want to be caught mooning over Waylon, and he certainly didn’t want to awaken any suspicion from the partner. Or Shane. Luckily, Casey chose that moment to join the group, which consisted of Bruno, Shane, and Jason, drawing their attention..

“They don’t have memorials like this back in Tulsa,” Casey said, a drink in his hand as he looked around the elegant space. The banquet room was in a restaurant on the edge of the Vieux Carre. Huge arched windows overlooked the Mississippi, black and white marble gleamed under foot, and a mural in the style of Jacques Tissot graced the other, windowless walls.

A jazz quartet played softly in one corner, and jasmine and gardenia scented the room. Near the combo was a bar setup, and waiters passed through the guests with an array of appetizers. A display of pictures of Loren, with the portrait of him as the Queen of Eros as it centerpiece stood near the entrance.

“Welcome to New Orleans,” Shane said, raising his own glass. “Loren wanted a celebration of life in cocktail party form and not a traditional funeral. In fact, he planned it all himself, down to the arrangements on the table and the menu. He did not like to leave things to chance.”

“To Loren,” Jason said, and the group raised their glasses in a toast.

“Well,” Casey said, “if you have to go, this is the way to go.” And to Shane he added, “Thanks for inviting me.”

“He didn’t,” Jason cut in, looking amused. “You invited yourself.”

“Of course, I did,” Casey said, his brown eyes widening. “It may be a funeral, but this is THE gay social event of the year. My future ex-husband could very well be in this room. This not an opportunity I could afford to pass up.”

After a bit, Bruno felt he needed a bit of fresh air. He excused himself from the group to go outside to the restaurant's terrace. On the way, he passed an elderly woman, an elegantly appointed one. It was her celadon silk suit that had caught his attention, but it was her distinctive mane of white hair, swept back from her forehead that made him recognize her.

“Mrs. Girod,” he said as he approached her table. She was sitting alone, but empty glasses and scattered plates indicated the she was here with others. She turned toward him with a social smile in place, but no recognition in her eyes.

“You probably don’t remember me, but you bought a painting from me recently, for your granddaughter's housewarming. I just wanted to say ‘hello’. My name is Bruno Vignau.”

Her face lit up, and she extended a bejeweled hand to him.. “Of course. You have that charming shop on Carrollton. Claudia loves the painting, and it looked fantastic in her dining room. In fact, I think I might be interested in one for myself. I’ve just moved to a new condo, and I’m in the middle of decorating. Do you have anything else by the artist?”

“Only one or two right now, but I’m planning on having a show for him soon. I’ll make sure you get an invitation.”

“Please do.” She paused for a moment, and the animation on her face faded. “So you knew Loren?”

“Not well. I worked with him on a fundraiser.”

“For the Amanda Brooks Home? Unfortunately I couldn’t go that night, but he was so excited. And Amanda would have been so proud. Both of him and what he did in her name.”

“You knew Mrs. Brooks, as well?”

“She was my closest friend. She had faults, but she was just as beautiful inside as out. And she and Loren loved each other so. I loved him, too. Such a sweet, charming boy. Losing them so close has been difficult.” She reached into her handbag and pulled out a handkerchief, holding it her eyes.

“Are you okay? Do you need to me get you a drink, water, anything?”

“You’re sweet,” she said, patting his hand. “But I’ll be fine. I’m going home soon, and I can hold it together until then.” Her gaze shifted past him for a moment. “In fact, I think my ride is waiting for me. Goodbye.”

Bruno pulled her chair out for her as she rose, and she gave him a smile before walking toward an elderly man and a middle aged woman waiting near the entrance. Bruno stood for a moment watching them pass through the door that lead to the main room of the restaurant and the exit, thinking about Loren and how sad it all was.

Movement caught his eye as Bruno continued to gaze in that direction, and he focused on it. It was Waylon, leaning down to whisper something in his partner’s ear. Bruno took the other’s moment of distraction to appreciate, again, how appealing the detective’s feature were. But he lingered too long, and Waylon noticed his look. Something like resolution passed over his features, and he made a movement as if heading toward Bruno.

And Bruno bolted, feeling unable to deal with a confrontation right now. He managed to find the French doors to the terrace he had been seeking earlier, and hurried through them, relieved that he couldn’t sense Waylon following. Unfortunately, Bruno was so focused on that fact, he didn’t pay attention to his path, and plunged straight into the back of another man, causing his victim to spill his drink..

“I’m so sorry,” Bruno exclaimed, as he realized what had happened.

“No worries,” the other, dark haired man said turning around. Seeing who his attacker was, the man’s handsome features relaxed into an engaging smile. “You again. You need warning bells or something.”

It was Seb, the handsome young lawyer Bruno had met at the gala. Embarrassment at his habitual clumsiness warred with pleasure at seeing the man again.

“Sorry, I was distracted, but to be honest, I kind of stay that way.’

“Well,” Seb said, “I was hoping to run into you again, but I wasn’t expecting it to be literally.”

“I do try to defy expectations. Anyway, can I get you a refill?”

“Sure, and I’ll walk with you.”

As they passed back inside, Bruno asked, “So how did you know Loren? I thought you were new to town.”

“I am. But my firm worked with his on some projects, and I got to know him well, though not long. You?”

“I didn’t know him long either, but he seemed like a great guy.”

By this time, they made it to the bar, and after getting wine, moved aside. Bruno noticed that, to his relief, Waylon and his partner had left. He also noticed his friends at a nearby table, clearly interested in his handsome companion and openly staring at the pair. Bruno considered ignoring them, but decided he might as well get this over with. Shane and the gang would bombard him with questions in any case.

“I’m here with friends,” Bruno said to Seb. “Would you like to join us at our table?”

“Sure,” Seb said, again with that easy smile that showed his straight white teeth and made his blue eyes shine.

Introductions weren’t as awkward as Bruno had feared, and Seb was adept at cocktail chatter. As the group discussed Loren, talk soon turned to the foundation.

“So,” Casey declared to Shane, a bit too loudly, which was not surprising considering the litter of empty cups near him. “Good news. With my good friend and colleague’s help,” here he gestured toward Bruno, who had to jump back to avoid the liquid splashing from the blond’s cup, “I’ve processed all the clothes from Loren’s estate sale, and have the online auction for the couture pieces ready to launch. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to make a lot of money for the house.”

“That’s great,” Shane said. Before Shane could say anything else, Casey managed to spill the precariously held cocktail down his own shirt.

“Oh my God,” he screamed. “This is Halston.” Shane and Jason managed to calm him down, and hurriedly left with him to find club soda.

“Is that what he does for a living?” Seb asked. “Online auctions?”

“Part of it,” Bruno answered. “He owns a vintage clothing and jewelry boutique. He has a brick and mortar store, but online sales are a huge part of it. Same for me. I don’t think I could stay solvent without the online store, though it’s not my main focus.”

“Do you sell vintage as well?”

“I have some pieces, though not fine things like he does; I’d say vintage and antiques are about a third of my business. Most of my sales, though, come from art and the new upholstery.”

“Where do you find the old pieces?”

“All over, including the street corner. Sometimes the occasional estate sales, but not usually auctions. I don’t do that many estate sales even, though I did go with Casey to Loren’s. I have to admit I don’t really hunt my old pieces, not like Casey. I mean, old pieces are his entire business. The pieces I refurbish...it’s like they find their way to me. I love giving old things new life.”

“Casey bought clothes from Loren? There’s really a market for that?”

“You’re thinking of Loren’s boy clothes---and there is a market for that, but Casey deals almost exclusively in women’s clothing. He bought Loren’s drag wardrobe. Mainly evening gowns and some jewelry. And there is a huge market for good quality women’s vintage. In fact, Loren had some very nice couture items that had been his aunts. That’s what Casey is auctioning. I helped him go through it all; Loren definitely had some nice pieces.”

“So,” Seb said, “did you find any hidden treasures?”

“Like a first edition of Tamerlane in a hat box, or a forgotten diamond tiara in one of the evening bags?” asked Bruno. “No. And that stuff never really happens in real life.”

Bruno shrugged before continuing, ”well, I guess it does, but it’s as rare a winning the lottery. The closest thing to it in real life I know of is Casey finding an original Chanel jacket at Thrift City. More often it’s like this: I’ll run across...say some McCoy pottery for $2 mixed in with some cheap florists' vases at a garage sale, or Casey will go to an estate sale and find a what most people think is a typical ugly 70s polyester dress, which it might be, but it’s also an original Diane Von Furstenberg. But honestly, even that’s rare. In fact, thanks to American Pickers, Antiques Roadshow, Ebay, and Etsy, now everybody thinks Great Aunt Louisa’s collection of 50 year old empty Ponds Cold Cream jars and ratty potholders are priceless mid century collectibles worth a fortune.”

“I don’t know,” Casey protested, having returned, a bit unsteadily, to the table. “Every now and then, I’ll hear from colleagues about cases of some real jewelry mixed in with some costume pieces. I know i’ve seen that actually happen on the Roadshow, someone thinking it’s vintage costume jewelry, but it’s real. Oh my God,” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. “I remember reading in Liz Taylor’s book that she had a bunch of fake Krupp Diamond rings made up as favors for her 40th birthday party. Can you imagine buying one and finding out that it was really the Elizabeth Taylor diamond?”

“No, I can’t,” Bruno said. “That stuff never happens. And I know you would never mistake glass, or even CZ, for the real thing for a second. I’ve seen you in action.”

“True,” Casey said, sighing a bit. “But a girl can dream, right? But now I think I’m going to dream about another drink. Because that’s a dream that can come true.”

“Are you sure you need another?” Shane asked. Casey was a lightweight and had already consumed several.

“Of course. My dreams have been crushed. I need a cocktail to replenish my spirit.”

“Well,” Jason said. “I need a water to replenish mine. And I think you need water, too, more than another cocktail. I’ll go with you to the bar. Anybody else need a refill?”

Everyone declined, as Jason led a protesting Casey to the bar.

“I think it’s about time for Casey to head home,” Shane said.

“I agree,” Bruno said. “Look, I was about to go home soon anyway. I’ll wrangle him into an Uber, and we’ll head out.”

“If you want, I can take you. I’ve only had one glass of wine...well one and a quarter,” Seb said, nudging Bruno with a wink. “I brought my car.”

“That would be great, but I don’t want you to go of your way.”

“Where are you going?”

“Carrollton St., close to Orleans.”

“It’s settled then. I live practically next door at the American Can Company.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure. Look, I have to go get the car. It’s in a lot a few blocks away. Grab your friend and meet me downstairs in a few minutes.”

“He seems nice,” Shane said, watching Seb depart. “And hot. And into you.”

“Thanks, Mom, but just because you like being Sadie, Sadie, married lady, doesn’t mean it’s your duty to become a matchmaker.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

Bruno was relieved when the conversation was interrupted by the return of Jason and Casey. He was further relieved to see that the blond had passed into his “I love you, man” stage of drunkenness where he was receptive to suggestion, as long as you allowed him to hug you while repeating his statements of affection.

With little trouble, since his friend was so slight, Bruno managed to maneuver Casey through the exit into the restaurant and to the elevator that led to the ground floor. As they stood inside waiting for the doors to close, Casey embraced Bruno, saying loudly. “I love you. You know that, right. I love you.”

Just as the doors began closing, Bruno looked up straight into the shocked eyes of Sammy, standing by the elevator in his black servers’ uniform, a tray in his hand.

He was a bit shaken by seeing Sammy, but by the time he had managed to drag Casey through the lobby onto the street where Seb was mercifully waiting by a black sedan, Bruno was mainly relieved that this had only had been a brush with his ex. Bullet dodged, he thought, climbing into the car after depositing Casey into the back seat.

Pulling up to Bruno’s shop, Seb said, “I thought I was taking you home.”

“You did. I live above the store. Very old school. And with your help, we are dumping Sleeping Beauty,” Bruno gestured toward a snoring Casey in the back seat, “in his shop next door.”

“He lives at his store, too?”

“No, he lives in Algiers Point, actually, but I’m not up to a round trip ferry ride. He has a sofa bed in his office that he crashes on sometimes when he works late or goes on a bender in the Quarter. I know where he hides the key to the shop and his alarm code, so we can get him inside.”

“In that case, let’s get Sleeping Beauty into her tower.”

The muscular Seb to carried the small, thin Casey onto the porch while Bruno unearthed the key and unlocked the door. A moment at the alarm pad, and then Bruno led Seb through the shop into Casey’s office in the back. As if the blond had known how the evening would end, the sofa bed was already open and neatly made with white bedding.

Seb removed Casey’s shoes and socks, while Bruno eased off the prized Haltson, which he carefully hung up. Afterwards, Bruno tucked the blond under the covers.

With Casey settled, Bruno led Seb back through the immaculate store. The couture gowns were still arranged in an artful vignette near the front windows where Casey had photographed them.

“Are those the dresses you were talking about?” Seb asked, stroking the rich brocade of the St. Laurent. “The valuable ones he’s selling for charity?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t get it,” Seb said. “They’re pretty enough, I suppose, but hard to believe they’re worth thousands.”

“I guess worth is in the eye of the beholder, just like beauty.”

“Speaking of beauty,” Seb said, reaching out to touch Bruno’s auburn curls. He ran his hand through them, and then, with the same powerful hand on the back of Bruno’s neck, pulled the other closer into a kiss.

It was long and deep and wonderful, and Bruno yielded to it. After a moment, though, he broke contact, feeling awkard about making out in his friend’s shop, especially with his friend sleeping closeby.

“Look,” Bruno said to Seb. “Normally, I’d invite you over to my place for coffee or another glass of wine, but I think I should stay here for a bit, to make sure Casey is okay.”

“I understand. And in fact, I have to be up early tomorrow.”

“I do want to see you again.”

“Still have my number?”

“I do. And this time I’ll call it.”

The night was mild, and Bruno was seating on the porch when he heard the door open, and Casey stagger out, obviously having gotten a second wind from his disco nap.

“Hey, Bruno,” he slurred, sinking beside his friend on the porch swing. “Let’s go out tonight. Let’s hit the quarter and get some action.”

“No,” Bruno said torn between amusement and annoyance. “You’ve had enough action.”

“Come on,” a shirtless and barefoot Casey said, throwing his arms around Bruno. “I love you but I want some real loving tonight, not friend loving.”

“No,” Bruno said, rising and dragging Casey up with him. “Not on my watch. Friends don’t let friends go trolling when they’re drunk.”

“And we are friends, and I love you,” Casey said, throwing his slender arms around Bruno, who was touched despite it all. As they stood there a moment embracing, Bruno noticed something odd, a car slowly cruising by them, lights off. It passed under a street lamp before turning onto a side street, and Bruno’s stomach lurched as he recognized Sammy’s prized Mustang.

“