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What s wrong? Isn t this what you wanted?
There s a catch. I m not sure I can live with it.
It must be pretty bad if it s making you reconsider a contract
with DG.
The A&R guy was in my dressing room with all those other
people that first night in Paris. He saw us kissing. So they ve put a
stipulation in the contract saying I can t be seen engaging in any
public display of affection with another man. Which basically
means, I have to go back in the closet.
I wished I was surprised, but I wasn t. That s not uncommon.
There was a clause to that effect in my recording contract, too.
And you signed it anyway?
It s all a matter of compromise, Matt. How badly do you want
this contract?
Not enough to lie about who I am. I know I m not the only
gay musician out there. If we d all just band together and say no to
this institutionalized homophobia, we could freeze it in its tracks.
And then you d find engagements few and far between.
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Classical music audiences are generally pretty conservative. So are
recording companies. They don t want anything fucking up the
bottom line.
His snort told me exactly what he thought of that argument. I
can t believe you re defending them.
I m not. I m just telling you how it is. This business hasn t
changed significantly in decades. You can either work within the
system, or& well, you won t get much work. We fell silent for a
few minutes after that, until Matt s cell phone rang. He checked
the number and groaned. It s my dad. I d better take it. He hit
accept, then got up and started pacing. Talking to his father
always made him antsy. They had a short exchange, then Matt
lowered the phone and said, They re inviting us for dinner
tomorrow night. I guess we should go? At my resigned nod, he
spoke into the phone again. Yeah, that s fine. We ll see you
around seven.
He hung up and dropped back into his chair, rubbing both eyes
with the heels of his palms. Shit. So much for relaxing.
We ve still got tonight and most of tomorrow. But no
practicing, okay? You ve done enough of that in the past month to
last you another six.
Never thought I d hear you tell me to slack off. He cracked a
wry grin. Sometimes I wish we could turn the clock back six
months, when all I had to worry about was school, practicing and
taking care of Mom. And finding time to see you.
Smiling, I reached over to tousle his hair. Glad I made the
list.
All I want to do with my life is play music and be happy with
you. When did that get so fucking complicated?
Jesus, I ve never seen him this tired. Those circles under his
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SONATA APPASSIONATA
eyes looked like a pair of shiners. He d been pushing himself hard
these past few weeks, harder than I d ever seen him work before.
In time, he d learn to pace himself better. But now he needed to get
some rest, or he d be no good for anything tomorrow.
Taking him by the hand, I led him into the bedroom, peeled off
his robe, and helped him slide between the cool, crisp sheets. He
tugged me down, rolling onto his side so I spooned up behind him.
A certain part of me heartily approved of this idea.
Feels like something s up, he murmured, wiggling his ass
against my erection. We should take care of that.
Not tonight. I brushed a kiss across his shoulder. He tasted
like soap, with the faint salty tang of fresh sweat.
Didn t take long for Matt s breath to slow, his weight settling
heavier into my arms. Curiously enough, I was still wide awake. I
usually dropped off before he did. But tonight I was content to
simply lie here, listen to him breathe and feel the soft thump of his
heart.
* * *
Dad insisted on sending a limo for us, though Aaron and I
could ve easily walked to his apartment. Actually, it was the
penthouse of an elegant, upscale modern building not far from the
Kurfürstendamm. There was a concierge in the lobby, and a
fucking waterfall. I d expected a butler to answer the door, but
instead it was Elena. Her face lit up when she saw us. But when
she threw her arms around me, I stood there like a damn statue,
with no clue how to react. I finally hugged her back, but it still felt
awkward.
She was an attractive lady tall, blonde, blue eyes. Nice,
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SONATA APPASSIONATA
expensive clothes, though I didn t recognize the designer. Walking
upright on her own two legs. Mom s polar opposite. Suddenly I
understood why Dad fell for her.
I took a quick glance around the foyer, my eyes bugging out. It
looked like the entry hall of a fucking palace. Marble floor.
Vaulted ceiling. An antique table with a huge bouquet of yellow
roses sitting on it. A carpeted staircase that led up to the second
floor. Jesus. This made the house I d grown up in back in San
Francisco look like a skid row dump.
She gave us a tour of the first floor, starting with the sun
room which wasn t very sunny at seven in the evening at the end
of October and then the living room. The TV was on, blaring
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