The Artist and the Actor – 9

 

Colin was restless, as he usually was the day after an opening for one of his exhibitions at the gallery. It was as if one era had ended and he had yet to begin the next one—at least as far as his diving into a new painting was concerned.

 

On top of that, it was two days until the anniversary of Kenny's murder. The tenth anniversary, damn it, and we'll never know who killed you, or why. He gazed at his brother's photo and the memories came flooding back. You were a good man, and my best friend when we were growing up. I still miss you as much as I did in the days following your death.

 

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Colin left the bedroom. He had another, more immediate problem to deal with—Shane and his unexpected appearance at the galley.

 

"Why now, Shane?" he muttered as he walked downstairs. "Do you think you can take advantage of being here to worm your way back into my life? If so, it's not happening."

 

He hoped, no, prayed that Shane wouldn't decide to come by the house. "He wouldn't dare, not after the way things ended."

 

It was easy to say he didn't want to see Shane again, but deep in his heart he had his doubts. He had loved his ex, heart and soul, until Shane's betrayal had destroyed what they'd once had.

 

Then there he was again, looking just as I remembered and with the same cocky attitude.

 

That was one of the things that had drawn Colin to him to begin with. Shane's irreverent love of life with all it had to offer. And the sex. He smiled wryly. It was always great, no matter what else was going on between us. "Until he blew it."

 

Colin knew he was partly to blame for what happened. "But damn it, Shane, you knew coming into our relationship there would be times when I had to concentrate on my art. That didn't give you the right to go looking for sex with the first guy who offered it. It didn't!"

 

He opened the fridge to see what he could fix for breakfast, glaring at the contents as if they were the cause of his whirling emotions. Pulling himself together, he took out two eggs, cheese, and a tomato, using them to make a half-assed omelet that he ate dispiritedly while standing at the counter.

 

If I don't pull myself together…

 

After cleaning up, Colin decided to blow off the day by going for a long drive in the mountains.

 

* * * *

 

Because he'd flown into the city, and was staying at a downtown hotel, Shane rented a car. He had no desire to take the bus to places he used to go when he'd lived in Denver—especially when one of the places was Colin's house. Our house, once upon a time.

 

He had no intention of parking out front and going up to ring the doorbell. He knew full well what the reception would be if he tried that. But driving by, hoping to get a glimpse of Colin…

 

"I'm acting like a lovelorn teenager," he chastised himself as he did just that. I'm too old for this. I shouldn't have gone by the gallery. I knew what would happen. Did I expect him to greet me with open arms after all this time? Maybe in some part of my mind, or heart, I hoped he would. More the fool, I, to misquote Shakespeare.

 

He continued on past the house, heading to a small restaurant several blocks away that he and Colin had often gone to for Sunday breakfasts. Pulling into the lot behind it, he sat for long moment staring off into space, shook his head, and drove away. He wasn't going to try to relive their time together. He couldn't. Not and retain his sanity.

 

"If it wasn't for the show, I'd catch the next plane out of town," he said under his breath. "But I can't. So deal, stupid. Forget he's here. Forget the past. It's exactly that, the past. In a little over four weeks I'll be gone. It can't happen too soon."