Page 62 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

“Tell us about David,” Pierce prodded gently.

I felt an invisible protective shield lock into place around the older man. Maybe it was a standard default. Maybe he’d been programmed to be wary of interest regarding his personal life. I didn’t think he’d answer, but instead of deflecting Pierce with a witty segue, Mr. Gowan arched his brow and inclined his head.

“What do you want to know?”

Pierce slid his wineglass on the table and leaned forward. “Anything. Or…whatever you can share. I’m curious about him. You inferred that he had a rough family life, and trust me, I understand and sympathize, but…what happened after he got to California? How’d you meet? What were your lives like?”

Geez, I wanted to know all that and more, but I hadn’t wanted to pry. Pierce had no such qualms. His curiosity had a rabid quality, evident in the set of his jaw and his intense stare.

Mr. Gowan must have sensed it too. “All right. We met on the corner of Hollywood and Vine, like I told you. I was hoping to be discovered or…hired for a good time.”

I gasped. “You were an escort?”

“Don’t be a prude, dah-ling. I did what I had to do. I was young and hungry and the money was better than I earned busing tables at the diner,” Mr. Gowan huffed. “I remember the day we met. He wore a navy suit and tie. Oh my, he was so handsome—tall with soulful eyes and a dimple on his left cheek. And get this…he was on a date. With a woman.”

My eyes bugged out. “Really?”

“Yes. She was in the powder room, and he was outside smoking,” Mr. Gowan said wistfully, his gaze half-mast as if he’d transported himself in time. “I came on to him and he turned me down in between elegant drags of his cigarette. While he was waiting for the girl, I told him my life story, which at that point didn’t take more than five minutes. I added that I was waiting for some lucky agent to discover me. He recommended college instead. Then he pushed a twenty-dollar bill into my pocket and wished me well. That should have been it, right? It wasn’t. He returned the following week…no girl.”

“And?” I prodded.

Mr. Gowan’s eyes lit mischievously. “He claimed to be in the area and since I was standing on the corner like a hoodlum, I might as well join him for a bite to eat. We ordered tuna melts on rye, drank sodas, and…talked for hours at that diner counter. We had a lot in common. We were both from Ohio. I’m from Toledo, he was from Columbus. We loved science, Elvis, autumn evenings, fireflies in summertime, the first snowfall. When we finally said good-bye, he gave me his card and told me they were hiring at his campus. Caltech…where the smarties go to school. I called the following day, and the rest is history.”

“You lived happily ever after?” I inquired, snapping a piece of cookie in half.

“Well…yes and no,” Mr. G singsonged. “Times were different, honey. No one uttered the word ‘gay’ or ‘homosexual’ in polite company. It was rude. No, it was scandalous. We’d both escaped to LA to start over. It was foolhardy to risk it all by admitting you preferred the company of gentlemen. David’s philosophy was that it was best to keep your head down, work hard, and make yourself invaluable.”

“Hide in plain sight,” I suggested.

“Easier done for some than others. David pulled off straight with aplomb, but look at me, dah-ling.” Mr. Gowan fingered the paisley scarf draped over his shoulders meaningfully. “I had to work hard to fit in. It was positively suffocating at times, but David made it…palatable. I played a part out in the world. I modulated my voice to sound more masculine. I wore boring suits and feigned interest in boring pastimes, like fishing and hunting. But at home, I was one thousand percent myself. David was steady as a rock—calm and even-tempered. I was loud, boisterous, silly. I made friends easily and tended to leap before I looked. He was shy, careful. It took time to make it into David’s inner circle, but the lucky ones would agree he was worth the wait.”

“He must have been special,” I said after a moment.

Mr. Gowan smiled. “David changed my life in every way possible. Thanks to him, I went from scrubbing toilets at the college to attending and eventually graduating from Caltech. We were career employees at the Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena, roommates, and the very best of friends.”

“No one suspected you were more than friends?” Pierce asked.

“Maybe. Probably.” Mr. Gowan’s expression turned sad. “Early on, we played our parts to a tee. We dated women sometimes and made sure not to be seen together too often in public. It was necessary in the beginning—like a sacrifice to ensure our peace.”

“That’s not right or fair,” I growled.

“Fair? What is that?” Mr. Gowan scoffed. “Even now, fairness is a luxury not everyone is entitled to. But back then, no one talked about gay rights or racial equality. Those were pie-in-the-sky dreams, not reality. I’d like to think I could have been a marvelous activist in another day and age, but the truth is…I would have been dead within a month, standing on that corner like a common tart, if I hadn’t met David.”

I smiled. “It was fate.”

“Perhaps. I like to think that if we pay attention, the universe guides us. And if we’re very lucky, we meet exactly the right person at the right time. David was that for me. He was east to my west, my sunrise, my sunset, my purpose.” His voice cracked with a raw scraping wheeze that hurt the ears. “Fifty years wasn’t enough.”

10

PIERCE

Iwas quiet when we pulled away from Mr. Gowan’s house. Probably too quiet. My mind was whirling in a dozen directions simultaneously.

Jasper, David…who were these people, and why did I care? And this man next to me…this was sex. Lo and I were just two horny dudes sharing space for a short time.

I stole a peek at Lo in the SUV’s dark interior and couldn’t look away. Shadows fell in deep slants across his forehead, accentuating his long eyelashes and full lips. He was pretty and smart, and so…kind. The way he spoke to the old man with patience, genuine interest, and respect was kind of beautiful. It fascinated me that he’d care so much.

And he seemingly cared a great deal. He hung on Gowan’s every word, pulling stories from him, and urging him to weave intimate tales.