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interrupt. Give Dean a hug for me.”
    Fuming, he ended the call. Belinda could be incredibly self-centered. He loved her like the sister he’d never had, but she was beyond irritating sometimes, calling him anytime day or night about inconsequential things.
    When he got back to the table, Dean was topping off his wine glass. “What did she want this time?”
    “She couldn’t find her plane tickets. Sorry for the interruption.”
    Ignoring the food, Dean lit another joint, his expression morose. “Why don’t we get on a plane and go somewhere? You know . . . like the old married couple we’re not.”
    “You know I can’t do that. Not now. Not in my position.”
    “What position is that? Belinda’s step-n-fetch-it? God forbid anyone should think her manager is gay.”
    Unwilling to look at his angry lover, he gazed into the orange-red flames of the candles. They’d had this argument before and the outcome was always the same. Dean went to bed angry. He sat up all night on the sofa, wishing he had the guts to do what Dean wanted.
    “Dean, you know I love you more than anything in the world.”
    “So why can’t we take a vacation? You and Belinda go places together.”
    “That’s business.”
    “Out and about, but not out , right, Jake?” Leaning on the word for emphasis. “People think you’re her lover. That’s what she wants. You’re the decoy. She fucks around with married men, because she’s got no time for a husband. She’s too busy being a star.”
    He gulped his wine. “It’s part of my job, okay? And I love my job.” He’d long ago concluded he was no soloist. He couldn’t handle the performance anxiety. But he loved traveling, loved hobnobbing with orchestra managers, distinguished conductors and celebrated musicians like Andre Previn and Yo-Yo Ma.
    “The money’s good, too.”
    Dean said nothing, piercing him with a belligerent stare.
    “Dean, you know how I feel about Belinda. She’s like a sister—”
    “No! She’s like a mistress only you’re not fucking her!” Dean’s eyes blazed with fury. “You’re thirty-four, Jake. You figured out you were gay when you were ten! What’s the problem?”
    “Easy for you to say. Your parents accept you—”
    “Now they do, but my Catholic mother threw a fit when I came out. It took Dad a year to bring her around, with a lot of help from my sisters.”
    He reached across the table and squeezed Dean’s hand. “You know how my mother is.”
    “No, I don’t.” Dean’s eyes glistened with tears. “You met my family and they love you like a son. I’ve never met yours and I never will.”
    “Dean, you mean everything to me. I want us to be together forever. I love you more than you could possibly know.”
    “I love you too, but I hate that we never go places together.”
    He rose and circled the table, and kissed Dean on the lips. “Come on. Your magnificent meal’s getting cold. Let’s sit down and enjoy it.”
    “We never even go to a movie! You’re too busy fawning over Belinda.”
    “We’ll go tomorrow, I promise. No Belinda, no cell phone. You pick the movie.”
    Dean’s eyes lit up. “It’s a deal! No more wine for me, Jake. No more pot, either, dammit. I’m fresh out. I better go see my supplier on Monday.”
    “Be careful. If you get busted—”
    “I’m always careful and so is the kid. He’s a NOCCA student. If he got caught, they’d expel him.”
    Silently, they devoured the gourmet dinner Dean had prepared, but Jake knew the truce was only temporary. Nine years he’d worked for Belinda. Maybe Dean was right. Time to find another job. He’d be perfectly happy as a church organist. Why not please himself for a change, instead of always making other people happy?
    Dean gazed at him from across the table, his eyes liquid puddles of desire. “Want your Chocolate Tort now?”
    How could he resist those eyes?
    “Forget the tort. You’re my dessert, Dean.”

CHAPTER 4
     
    Frank ordered a family-sized