Page 28 of Persuaded

New York was exactly as Joshua remembered.

He hadn’t been to the city in years, mostly to avoid his father and brother, and he couldn’t say he’d missed it. Even high up in Ruth’s penthouse he could hear the endless hum of the city that never slept, nor rested, nor even took a breath.

Tonight, as always, his aunt was elegant and beautiful.

She sparkled with the festive season as she welcomed guests to the select New Year’s Eve party— soiree , she called it—that she’d arranged for Joshua.

Not that she’d admitted it was for him, but the fact that half the guests were powerful figures in the New York music scene was something of a giveaway. So was the grand piano in the corner.

Joshua, of course, was expected to perform.

He didn’t mind; it was a beautiful instrument and he wasn’t afraid of playing for these people. Besides, wasn’t that why he was here, to look for a new start? When he’d confessed as much to Ruth, she’d gone into overdrive trying to kick-start his career.

“I especially want you to meet Quinton Jones,” she’d told him as she’d fussed with his jacket earlier that evening.

Joshua hadn’t dressed so fancy in years, but Ruth had insisted on taking him shopping for something “appropriate” for the evening.

“Quinton is a music producer at Create Studios, and he’s always looking for talented session musicians.

It’s a good place to start, Joshua.” She’d smiled, as if pleased. “He also happens to be a homosexual.”

“Ruth—”

Her smile dazzled. “I’m just mentioning it out of interest.”

She needn’t have bothered. As soon as Ruth brought Quinton over to meet him, it was obvious he was gay.

Tall, slender and exquisitely dressed, he was entirely overt about his sexuality.

“Joshua Newton,” he said in a crisp English accent, “Ruth’s been singing your praises forever and I can see that none of it has been exaggerated.

” He held out a hand to shake and flashed a smile.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite—unless invited. ”

Joshua flushed as he shook the man’s hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

“Oh, why do I doubt that?” Quinton smiled with genuine sympathy. “Poor you. Ruth is a terrible enthusiast when she has a new project. And you, darling, are it.”

His aunt patted the man’s arm. “I can’t help being enthusiastic. Joshua has been hiding away for far too long—I’m keen for the world to see his light.” With that she sailed away to greet her other guests and left them alone.

Subtle, Ruth was not.

Quinton took a sip of champagne. “Well, shall we get down to business or stick to the small talk for a little longer?”

“Business?” What had Ruth said to this man?

“Of the musical variety,” Quinton said with an amused twist of his lips. “You’re a musician, I understand.”

“Oh. Yes. Well, that is I play. I don’t earn my living playing. I’m a music teacher, actually—piano.” He grimaced. “I also need to get better at selling myself.”

“You do.” Quinton’s gaze swept over him, head to toe. “Do you compose?”

“I try—” He started again. “I mean, yes. I’m a genius, actually.”

Quinton barked a laugh. “That’s better. Will you play tonight?”

“Of course.” He leaned closer and confided, “I think that’s the point of the evening.”

“Certainly.” Another smile lit the man’s eyes. “Well then, let’s hear you.”

And just like that, Joshua found himself ushered to the piano.

He chose something simple and popular to begin with—his own arrangement of Cohen’s “Hallelujah”—and started in quiet and without fanfare.

He didn’t sing, but as the music built he felt the room hush as people turned to listen.

He’d missed this, the thrill of performance, and he smiled and felt his chest swell with the music.

If only Finn were here, it would be perfect. ..

The melancholy of the music harmonized with his mood and he poured himself into it, losing himself until he reached the third stanza and sensed someone come to stand at his shoulder. Glancing up he found Quinton watching with an enigmatic look in his eyes.

And then Quinton began to sing. He smiled and Joshua smiled too, adapting to the other man’s performance, letting him take the melody.

He guessed that Quinton was testing him, but this had always come easily to Joshua so he wasn’t concerned.

Besides, it wasn’t the first time he’d accompanied someone singing this; Finn used to sing with him, back in the day.

His yearning only added to the poignancy and, as he played the last notes, letting the music drift into silence, a sweet melancholy threatened to overwhelm him.

But then the room burst into applause and Quinton’s hand touched his shoulder. “Lovely,” he said. “Ruth wasn’t exaggerating your talents, Mr. Newton.”

Joshua played a little Zeppelin after that and then finished with the Chopin to demonstrate his range and technical ability.

Quinton watched with keen attention and a smile, while Aunt Ruth beamed in elegant triumph from the far side of the room.

Joshua supposed he should consider the performance a success.

At midnight they watched the ball drop on TV but they could see the fireworks from Ruth’s window.

Joshua stepped outside onto the balcony, despite the cold, tugging on his new gloves—Finn’s gloves.

The sound of the city rose up all around him, loud and brilliant with humanity.

As the sky lit up and another year dawned he thought of Finn and Liz, of Sean and Tejana, of everyone back in New Milton.

He missed them, missed the place, but knew he couldn’t go back.

There was nothing there for him now and it was past time he got on with his life.

Behind him the door slid open and he glanced around to see Quinton Jones follow him outside. “Bloody freezing,” he said cheerfully, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” Joshua said, although he’d been enjoying the brief solitude. “You’ve got quite the voice. Did you ever sing professionally?”

Quinton waved the comment aside as he lit a cigarette. “Not profitably.” He blew out a satisfied ribbon of smoke. “I’m rather better at production than performance. But you... Where have you been hiding, Joshua?”

“In the past, mostly.” He gave a rueful smile. “But no more. New year—new start.”

Quinton inclined his head. “It won’t make you famous,” he said, “but you could earn decent money as a studio musician. You’ve got talent, I can see that, and if you’re willing to work your bollocks off you’ll get to play with some of the greatest musicians alive.”

“It definitely sounds interesting.” If he could earn a living as a session musician he’d be doing something he enjoyed and earning enough to pay his own way in the city. He didn’t want to camp at Ruth’s forever, even if she’d let him. “How would I start?”

“Think of me as your knight in shining armor—or fairy godmother, if you prefer.” Quinton leaned in a little too close and said, “Stop by the studio sometime, we’ll do lunch and talk.”

Joshua didn’t miss the overt interest in Quinton’s eyes and he didn’t know what he thought about it. He definitely didn’t want a relationship, but he doubted Quinton was offering one. “Thanks,” he said with a smile. “I’ll do that.”

Time for something new, after all.

* * *

Two days after New Year’s Joshua found himself standing with Ruth on the street outside his father’s—now Michael’s—apartment building. His aunt put a hand on his back and said, “Come on, you’re going to run into him eventually. You might as well get it over with.”

He gave her a rebellious look. “Why?”

“Because you’re not a child. And because your mother would want it.”

That was a low blow, but it wasn’t one he could withstand. Taking a deep breath he said, “Okay, let’s do it.”

Naturally, the Newtons owned the penthouse. It had only escaped the court order because his father had transferred it into Michael’s name when he saw the prosecution coming down the line. Joshua had always despised the place, all silver and chrome and about as welcoming as an operating theater.

One of the maids opened the door, neat in her black dress and crisp white apron.

Ruth smiled and Joshua cringed, swallowing the urge to apologize as he handed her his coat.

He hated this ridiculous pretention. He’d hated it growing up and hated it even more now that he’d lived in the real world.

From further inside the apartment he could hear his brother’s braying laughter, the general chatter of a dinner party.

He thought, if he ran, he might make it out before Ruth caught him. As if guessing his plan, her fingers closed over his arm. “In we go.”

As they stepped into the dining room, Michael’s gaze swept over Joshua with cool appraisal. “Ah,” he said, “the black sheep. How are you, Joshua? Enjoying the bright lights?”

“As much as always.”

Isabelle, Michael’s wife, came over and kissed the air next to both his cheeks. “Darling, it’s been an age,” she said and flashed her capped teeth at him. “You look wonderful .”

“So do you, as always.” In truth, she looked brittle and plasticized. Even if his taste had run to women, he doubted he’d have ever found Isabelle attractive.

Michael introduced him to some colleagues, men and women who worked for him, and they smiled with the curiosity of people thinking, So that’s Joshua Newton .

He wondered what Michael had told them—the dropout, the teacher, the fag.

He wasn’t sure which his brother would consider the most damning.

He snagged a drink from the maid so he didn’t have to talk to anyone.