“Tell the rest,” Taylor was exhorting her. “What happened?”
She went on with her story, but now, with her back to the door, she found herself wondering every moment if he was stepping through it. Her distraction took its toll on the narrative. But then perhaps a tale about murder told by the prey was bound to predictability. She wrapped it up with undue haste.
“The point is, I’m alive,” she said. “I’ll drink to that,” Taylor replied, passing his unsipped Virgin Mary back to Clem. “Maybe just a splash of vodka?” he pleaded. “I’ll take the consequences.”
Clem made a reluctant shrug and, claiming Jude’s empty glass, wended his way back through the crowd to the drinks table, giving Jude an excuse for turning around and scanning the room. Half a dozen new faces had appeared since she’d sat down. Gentle was not among them.
“Looking for Mr. Right?” Taylor said. “He’s not here yet.”
She looked back to meet his amusement.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said.
“Mr. Zacharias.”“What’s so funny?”
“You and him. The most talked-about affair of the last decade. You know, when you mention him, your voice changes. It gets—”
“Venomous.”
“Breathy. Yearning.”
“I don’t yearn for Gentle.”
“My mistake,” he said archly. “Was he good in bed?”
“I’ve had better.”
“You want to know something I never told anybody?”
He leaned forward, the smile becoming more pained. She thought it was his aching body that brought the frown to his brow, until she heard his words.
“I was in love with Gentle from the moment I met him. I tried everything to get him into bed. Got him drunk. Got him high. Nothing worked. But I kept at him, and about six years ago—”
Clem appeared at this juncture, supplying Taylor and Jude with replenished glasses before heading off to welcome a fresh influx of guests.
“You slept with Gentle?” Jude said.
“Not exactly. I mean, I sort of talked him into letting me give him a blow job. He was very high. Grinning that grin of his. I used to worship that grin. So there I am,” Taylor went on, as lascivious as he’d ever been when recounting his conquests, “trying to get him hard, and he starts . . . I don’t know how to explain this . . . I suppose he began speaking in tongues. He was lying back on my bed with his trousers around his ankles, and he just started to talk in some other language. Nothing vaguely recognizable. It wasn’t Spanish. It wasn’t French. I don’t know what it was. And you know what? I lost my hard-on, and he got one.” He laughed uproariously, but not for long. The laugh went from his face, as he began again. “You know, I was a little afraid of him suddenly. I was actually afraid. I couldn’t finish what I’d started. I got up and left him to it, lying there with his dick sticking up, speaking in tongues.” He claimed her drink from her hand and took a throatful. The memory had clearly shaken him. There was a mottled rash on his neck, and his eyes were glistening.
“Did you ever hear anything like that from him?” She shook her head. “I only ask because I know you broke up very quickly. I wondered if he’d freaked you out for some reason.”
“No. He just fucked around too much.”
Taylor made a noncommittal grunt, then said, “I get these night sweats now, you know, and I have to get up sometimes at three in the morning and let Clem change the sheets. I don’t know whether I’m awake or asleep half the time. And all kinds of memories are coming back to me. Things I haven’t thought about in years. One of them was that. I can hear him, when I’m standing there in a pool of sweat. Hear him talking like he’s possessed.”
“And you don’t like it?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Memories mean different things to me now. I dream about my mother, and it’s like I want to crawl back into her and be born all over again. I dream about Gentle, and I wonder why I let all these mysteries in my life go. Things it’s too late to solve now. Being in love. Speaking in tongues. It’s all one in the end. I haven’t understood any of it.” He shook his head and shook down tears at the same time. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I always get maudlin at Christmas. Will you fetch Clem for me? I need the bathroom.”