Former LAPD officer Steven Jay Miller lingered on the streets of Manhattan.
Memorial Day weekend, and the air felt hot and muggy. Pigeons scattered as a car backfired, kicking up feathers and dust.
The roadway was jammed with yellow cabs, delivery trucks and anxious New Yorkers. The air smelled of diesel exhaust and trash.
Wearing worn jeans and a navy blue T-shirt, Steve had spent the day sightseeing but really what he was doing was avoiding.
Avoiding something he could do nothing about.
His hands in his pockets, Steve paused near a hotel’s grand entrance.
It was then he noticed a crowd of reporters waiting, being held back by the hotel staff and a rope barrier.
Guests wearing gowns and black business suits began to stream out, looking as if they had been to the party of the year.
The paparazzi went on high alert.
Then, it was as if a tidal wave hit. Noise, flashes of cameras, cheering, horns honking…
~
Wearing a white tuxedo with a red rosebud boutonniere, Top Model Mark Antonious Richfield was swarmed by reporters.
“Mark! Mark!”
Holding tight to his new husband’s hand, Mark tried to make his way to a waiting limousine; a white stretch limo.
Ignoring the noise and obnoxious questions being shouted at him, Mark lowered his head, hiding behind his thick, shoulder-length brown mane of hair.
The chauffeur opened the back door for them, and before Mark climbed in with Stan Charles Richfield, his young husband, he spotted a man.
Mark whispered into Stan’s ear, “One moment, love.”
Stan, also in a white tux, took a look over the crowd. He kissed Mark and sat in the back of the limousine while family members threw birdseed and sugar-confetti, instead of the traditional rice, at the happy couple.
Mark, avoiding the chaos, made his way to his ex.
Steve’s blue eyes were intense as Mark drew near.
Seeing his every move was being recorded, Mark knew he couldn’t do much to stop the media. He touched Steve’s arm. “Baby?”
Steve parted his lips, as if to say something, but nothing came out.
Stan tried to watch from the back window of the limousine. He touched the white gold, platinum, diamond and sapphire ring on his finger and gazed at Steve’s expression.
The former cop had lost Mark. Lost Mark to him.
Stan rubbed his face and sank in the leather seat. He couldn’t imagine Steve’s pain. If he lost Mark, he’d be a basket-case.
Stan closed his eyes and tried to relax. In twenty-four hours Mark would leave for Europe with Steve on a business trip. And he and Mark’s superstar son, Alexander, were going to film their on-location scenes for their new movie, Lover Boy, right here in New York.
He heard a commotion near the car and when he looked at the hotel entrance, a gorgeous blond Swedish runway model had emerged.
Tadzio Andresen, in a shimmering black gown, was getting mobbed by the paparazzi. To escape the madness, Tadzio slipped into the back of the limousine with Stan.
“Where iz Mark?” He blinked his long eyelashes.
Stan thumbed behind him.
Tadzio, flipping his long blond hair behind his shoulder, peered out of the back window. “Steven!”
Steve knew this was insane. That’s why he couldn’t do it, couldn’t sit through Mark’s wedding to Stan. He had crashed Mark’s first one, to Sharon Tice, so many fucking years ago.
If he had attended this wedding, he would have done the same thing.
Staring at the love of his life, Mark Antonious, Steve was in hell.
“Baby?” Mark touched his jaw. “Tomorrow, yes?”
“Yes.” Steve felt like crying. It was tough.
“Steven! Steven!” was called to him.
Steve inhaled deeply as a blond bombshell made his way to him in his high heels. His new spouse, Tadzio, raced over. “You came?”
Mark kissed Steve lightly on his lips and returned to the limousine and his waiting husband.
Tadzio interlaced his fingers with Steve’s.
Steve stared at the limousine, watching Stan’s immediate family climb into the car with Mark.
“Steven?” Tadzio tugged on his arm.
“Let’s go.” Steve shoved his way beyond the crowd into the hotel where he and Tadzio were staying.
“Steven?”
“I’m fine, Tadzio. I’m fine.” Steve led Tadzio to an elevator and the two of them rode to their floor.
Tadzio leaned against him affectionately. “What did you do all the day?”
“Just went to museums and shit.” Steve removed his hotel card key and walked down the long corridor.
“You will leave with Mark soon?”
Steve used the key in the reader and opened the lock, and the door, for Tadzio. Tadzio passed through it, and stood near the bed.
“Yes. Tomorrow.” Steve tossed his phone on the dresser.
“You can help?” Tadzio gave Steve his back.
Steve opened the tiny hook and then unzipped Tadzio’s gown for him. He stepped out of his high shoes and then the dress.
Under it, Tadzio wore a tiny black padded bra, matching panties, and nylon stockings.
Steve sat on the foot of the bed and rubbed his face as he yawned.
Tadzio knew how hard this day was for Steve. Even though he and Steve had married last month, in what was an effort to stop Tadzio from being deported, Tadzio knew Steve’s true love, was Mark.
He stood between Steve’s knees, pouting, and ran his finger over Steve’s neck. “Iz okay, Steven.”
Steve snapped out of his stupor and stared at Tadzio. He held Tadzio’s narrow waist and managed a smile. “Did you have fun?”
“I would have had more fun wit you.”
“I’m sorry. Are you tired?” Steve used his thumbs to run tiny circles around Tadzio’s pelvis.
Tadzio unhooked his bra and dropped it, then stepped out of his pantyhose and tiny thong. He urged Steve back on the hotel bed and opened his zipper.
Steve sighed and yanked his T-shirt over his head.
Tadzio tossed his long blond hair extensions behind his shoulder, and took Steve’s soft cock into his mouth.
Alexander Mark Richfield sat on a chaise lounge while staring at the Pacific Ocean. In the midst of production in a new feature film, Alex was flying to New York tomorrow to shoot the location scenes for a new movie he and Stan were starring in.
The holiday weekend had brought hundreds of bathers to the beach, and the sun was high in the sky even though it was late afternoon.
A shadow was cast over him.
Alex looked over his sunglasses at a big, masculine man.
His husband, Chief of Police Billy Sharpe, had his hands on his hips and had come from a dip in the refreshing water.
Adam Lewis and Jack Larsen, close friends of Alex and his model father, carried refreshments out of their Malibu beach house.
Adam, Alex’s talent agent, placed a pitcher of margaritas on the glass patio table top. He stood for a moment staring out at the waves.
His husband, Jack, was a blue-eyed blond gym junkie lawyer, who had known Alex’s dad since college.
Jack placed veggies and dip near the pitcher. “How’s the water?” he asked Billy.
“Great.”
Alex gazed at his forty-eight year old police chief, and zeroed in on the tattoo Billy had scrolled on his upper arm; barbed wire and Alex’s name.
“Come swim,” Billy coaxed.
Alex shook his head, hiding behind his sunglasses. He twirled his long, brown hair around his finger, knowing this weekend, his father had officially married that kid. The kid he was cast in the movie with. Stan.
That fucker was younger than he was.
“Alex?” Billy reached out his hand.
“No.” Alex pointed to the pitcher of green liquid. “Can you pour me one, Adam?”
Adam did, handing it to Alex.
“I’ll swim.” Jack took off his shirt, exposing his fabulous body, and dropped his shorts to the patio, revealing a swimsuit.
Billy and Jack jogged over the silky sand to the surf.
Adam sat next to Alex, also drinking a margarita.
“How’re you doing, Alex?” Adam patted Alex’s bare leg as Alex wore a gold-printed sarong over his bathing suit, and a black mesh, see-through top.
“Meh.” Alex tasted the drink and it was superb, one of Adam’s specialties.
“Have you heard from anyone?” Adam was referring to his dad, Steve and Tadzio, since they were the only ones of their group to go to Mark’s New York wedding.
“Tadzio. He keeps sending me photos I don’t want to see.”
“Anything from Mark?”
“No.” Alex guzzled the drink and sat up, pouring more.
