Where You'll Find Him

Chapter 1-2

“Look, Dad, you gave Mom your best years, but you’re still young, and it’s not too late to start living again.” She tossed her chin up at the door. “Go. Take a walk through the gay village. Be bold. What’s the worst that can happen?”

He hesitated, looking at the front door. “I’m forty-nine years old. The world is a different place now.”

“It’s just a walk, Dad. Not like you’re going to a strip club or hiring a male escort.”

“Malena, please, you’re not helping.”

“Oh, Dad, don’t be such a prude.”

“I’m not a prude. Just not comfortable talking about this with you.”

Ever since Malena had completed her degree in sexology, she was more and more at ease with discussing issues he still thought should stay private and behind closed doors. That was the problem with her generation. They dissected human sexuality as though they were performing an autopsy on romance. It made him uneasy, but regardless of her forthrightness, Gaspard was immensely grateful for Malena’s open mind and support. Ever since the divorce, Malena was, in many ways, his only and best friend.

“Anyway,” she said, smiling at him from over the couch seat, “this is better than going to a bar full of twenty-year-old kids, right? There’s going to be tons of people walking around, and all kinds of stands there. There’s going to be some information desks, and you can get a tan and an education all at once.”

An education? No, he didn’t need an education. He needed to connect with someone. To feel alive again. Or just to be seen. He’d even settle for being noticed. Eye contact from across the street could do the trick. Anything to confirm he still had it in him to attract some kind of attention.

He stared at his daughter for a moment. “Thank you, by the way. For being so supportive.”

“Dad, you’ve supported me all of my life.” She turned her attention back to the television. “You’re still supporting me right now. What kind of a woman would I be if I didn’t show you a little gratitude?”

He didn’t know what to say.

“Go,” she said, waving him off again. “Before you change your mind.”

Gaspard looked out at the busy street. “Here I go.”

“And remember,” she called out from the cool apartment. “You’re not old, you’re successful and experienced!”

* * * *

At the YBR stand, Zack tore open the last box of flyers they had. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and Wolfe watched him, concerned. Zack seemed on edge. Shaky. Lately, Wolfe couldn’t help wondering if Zack had really won his battle against substance abuse. Was he still using? And if so, how could he help Zack? He was his boss, after all. Where could he draw the line?

“We’re gonna run out of these by one o’clock,” Zack said, piling up more flyers on the table. “We’re gonna need another box.”

Wolfe opened a fresh bottle of water. “There’s a lot more people this year,” he said before drinking again. He’d gone through two of those already. Nothing seemed to quench his thirst. He’d tried staying in the shade under the stand’s awning, but the heat was engulfing anywhere you stood.

Zack grabbed the bottle from Wolfe’s hand and drank from it greedily. The crowd had thinned a little, and they were enjoying a short break. “When Dominic comes back,” he said, “I’ll ask him to go get more flyers and rubbers at the center.”

“Where is he, anyway?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not enjoying the way he’s been disappearing on us all morning.”

“Yes, I know…and I’ll talk to him about that.”

Dominic was a volunteer. He wasn’t paid a dime to be there. Wolfe was discovering how difficult it was to manage the volunteers who offered their time to him.

“And notice how Dominic only talks to the cute guys?” Zack shot him a side glance. “Meanwhile, I’m answering about ten different people all at once.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little wired.”

“I’m fine and remember the rule.”

The rule was, only Zack could decide when he needed a breather. He didn’t want anyone’s concern or advice. He never spoke of his HIV status. Even when he’d gotten very sick last year, he hadn’t complained about the nausea and extreme fatigue. They’d all watched the weight fall off him, expecting and fearing the worst. But Zack had made it through.

“Okay…forget I said anything.” Wolfe looked away at the busy street. It was a circus out there. This stretch of Sainte-Catherine Street was closed to cars all summer and turned into some kind of queer Land of Oz. Everywhere Wolfe looked he saw bare skin and tight jeans. People were definitely on the prowl today.

“Hey,” Zack said, leaning into his ear. “Sorry I snapped. I’ll take a break in a minute.” He nudged his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I’m leaving in an hour.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

“Though I don’t like leaving you alone with Dominic,” Zack said after a moment. “He’s pretty useless.”

“I’ll be all right.” But in truth, Wolfe was exhausted already. They’d spent the last three hours greeting people, answering questions, handing out pamphlets and condoms, explaining the various services the YBR offered the community. Public relations was key to his job, though he didn’t enjoy that part much. He was always begging for funds.

“You know,” Zack said, “you’re gonna have to start looking for some decent help. You’re on your last leg, Wolfie.”

Wolfe caught sight of Dominic across the street, chatting it up with a young man on a bike. “There he is,” Wolfe said, pointing him out to Zack. “Go get him, please.”

Moments later, Zack returned with Dominic.

“Sorry, Wolfe, I lost track of time,” Dominic said. “What can I do here?”

Wolfe realized he’d be stuck with Dominic all day, unless he sent him out there instead. He decided he’d rather man the stand alone than listen to Dominic comment on every guy’s appearance for the next five hours. “Here,” he said, handing Dominic more flyers and membership forms. “Just take a walk and pass these out. You know, talk to people. You seem to be good at that. Try to get us some donations or new members.”

Dominic seemed thrilled. This would give him an excuse to randomly hit on anybody. “I’ll get you so many donations, you won’t even know what to do with the money,” he said, walking away.

Right.

Zack tipped his head. “I should get us some lunch, right?”

“I could eat something, yes.”

With a conspirator’s smile, Zack leaned in close to Wolfe’s ear. “Look over there,” he said. “The blond in the pale blue shirt there.”

Wolfe scanned the crowd and immediately spotted the man Zack was referring to. The first thing he noticed was the man’s very blond hair. It was thick and beautiful. “What about him?” Wolfe asked nonchalantly, though his curiosity was a little piqued. The guy was an older man. He was definitely into older men.

“He keeps looking here. I think he walked past our stand ten times already. You didn’t notice him?”

He’d been too busy to really notice anyone. Now Wolfe looked at the man again. He was fit, dressed casually but impeccably in dark blue jeans and pale blue shirt. He was tall, probably a little over six feet, and wearing dark sunglasses. Handsome maybe. It was hard to tell from here. Besides, a man’s best feature was his eyes, Wolfe thought, and he couldn’t see the man’s face at all. The guy stood looking into a storefront, but though his eyes were hidden behind those dark glasses, Wolfe knew the man was glancing toward his stand every few seconds. Well, it didn’t matter. Today wasn’t the day for hooking up with anyone. Not that he’d been doing a lot of hooking up in the last year.

As a matter-of-fact, his s*x life was practically non-existent since he’d moved to Montreal. Work. Too much work. Or maybe it was fear…

“You should get us something to eat,” Wolfe finally said, turning his attention back to Zack again. “Before you go, if you don’t mind.” He took his wallet out.

“Oh, s**t, here he comes.” Zack winked and stepped back. “Good luck. He looks like he’s got some money. Maybe he’s the big fish we’ve been searching for.”

When Zack had walked off, Wolfe grabbed the last stack of pamphlets and began arranging them in neat piles. Anything to look very busy and serious. He didn’t glance up but knew the man was now standing at his table.

“Hi,” the guy said. His tone was friendly, but nervous, and his voice was deep and textured.

Wolfe looked up and met the man’s arresting blue eyes. He hadn’t been prepared for such beautiful blue eyes, and he was frozen for a moment. The man had hooked his sunglasses on his shirt and was smiling at him. He had a very classy look. An impossibly sexy smile that lit up his handsome face.

“Huh, hello,” Wolfe said, his voice jumping. “How are you?” He made an effort to appear cool and professional. Maybe Zack was right. Maybe this guy was exactly the type to write out checks to charity. He was a man in his forties with a certain air of power about him.

“Well, I’m hot.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, no, I don’t mean, me as in me me,” he stammered. “I mean, the weather is hot.”

“Montreal in the summer. Gotta love it.” Wolfe took a bottle out of the small, flooded cooler. “Here…on us.”

“Oh. Wow. Thank you.” With a charming smile, the man accepted the water and twisted the cap off. He drank and looked down at the flyers. “You’re a community center?”

“Yes, we are.” While the man read the information flyer, Wolfe stared at his attractive face. He had beautiful features. A supple mouth. Sculpted eyebrows and a strong jaw line. Wolfe quickly eyed him over. The man wore an expensive watch. Designer shoes. Didn’t seem to be the type to frequent or even be interested in a l***q community center. Why was he walking around on community day? “We offer different services under one roof,” Wolfe explained, going into fund-raising mode. “We also hope to reopen a shelter for young adults soon. It was closed down last year for lack of funds. And, uh, the city isn’t renewing our lease agreement, so we’re scrambling to find other income sources.”

The man looked up. His sky-blue eyes were full of zest and kindness. He actually seemed genuinely interested in the YBR. “Where do you get your funding?”

“Government mostly. But that barely covers salaries.”

The man frowned, glancing down at the table. “You have a helpline, too?”

Before they could talk about anything else, other people gathered at the kiosk asking for Wolfe’s attention. He hoped the man wouldn’t leave, and was glad to see he stayed by the stand, reading the material, clearly waiting for him to be finished with the crowd. Maybe it wasn’t support or information the man was looking for, but a chance to speak with him alone. Wolfe’s heart raced as he noticed the guy’s eyes following his every gesture and he suddenly felt insecure. Here he was, standing behind a plastic table, handing out pamphlets for a community center, wearing sneakers he’d gotten at a thrift store over the weekend. This man was probably V.I.P. at some country club.

“Avocado and roasted bell pepper wrap for you,” Zack said, returning with lunch. He put the brown bag on the stand. “And one unsweetened green tea.” He didn’t waste a second locking eyes with the blond. “Hi there,” he said, reaching his hand out to him. “I’m Zack.”

Wolfe hated himself. He hadn’t even introduced himself to the man!

“Hi, how are you?” The man shook Zack’s hand, but his eyes were on Wolfe. “I’m Gaspard, by the way.”

“I’m so sorry,” Wolfe babbled. “It’s the heat or something. I’m Wolfe. Wolfe Byrne.” He shook Gaspard’s hand and checked for a wedding band.

There was no ring, but that didn’t mean anything.

“Can I have one of these?” Gaspard asked, picking up a membership form.

“Absolutely.” Zack said coolly. “Rubbers are in here.” He pushed the box toward Gaspard. “Help yourself.”

Gaspard stepped back a little and quickly looked away from the condoms. “No…that’s okay.” Shyly, he glanced back at Wolfe. “But thanks,” he muttered.

Wolfe glared at Zack. This man wasn’t the type to grab a handful of rubbers.

“Well, I’ll let you two work.” Gaspard hesitated and then stepped back into the crowded street. “Have a great day, and thanks for your time.”

“Say something to him,” Zack whispered to Wolfe as Gaspard walked away from their stand. “He’s leaving. His money is leaving.”

Wolfe pulled out a stool and unwrapped his sandwich. He bit into his wrap, watching Gaspard make his way through the crowd, going east. Who was this guy, anyway? He was stunning, and yet slightly insecure.

Zack nudged his shoulder. “I think he was hoping for a little action.”

“Nah. I think he just wanted to stop and talk to someone.”

“Are you kidding me? A guy like that? He doesn’t need to make a new friend. Man, the guy’s obviously loaded and probably has a hundred friends. Not to mention lovers he can fly to Paris on a rainy day. I know the type. Trust me.”

Wolfe drank some cold tea. “Never judge a book by its cover. He seemed lonely or something.”

“Lonely for a nice piece of young ass like yours.”

“Don’t be so cynical.” With a smile, he shook his head at Zack. “And you made him feel uneasy with the whole condom thing. That wasn’t cool. He’s from another generation; you know better than to shove rubbers in his face.”

“Oh, come on. His generation f****d more in a week than you have in your whole adult life.” Zack grabbed his bag in the corner.

“Okay, you may have a point there.”

“I gotta go, Wolfie.” Zack blew him a kiss. “Don’t take s**t from nobody.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Wolfe said, and then though he tried not to, he couldn’t help searching the crowd for Gaspard. Why had he run away so fast?