Death Becomes Him - 5

With things settled, at least for the moment, Trent took off for Rory’s apartment. When he got there the result was the same as it had been earlier in the day. He considered buzzing the building manager to ask if he could let him into the apartment but decided that would be an effort in futility. He wasn’t a police officer and had no valid reason to be allowed inside. At least not until Rory had been missing for more than a couple of days.

Please, God, don’t let that be the case. Let it be something stupid like… he ran into an old friend and they’re… off doing something and lost track of time.

He really hoped that was the case, as much as it would piss him off if Rory had hooked up with some ex-lover and ended up at the man’s place for a one night stand.

A very long one, but still better than the alternative, which is that something happened to him.

Worried and restless because there didn’t seem to be anything he could do right now, Trent returned to the Quarter. He stopped at Johnny’s for a hot sausage po-boy that he ate as he walked back to the tour company. No one was around when he got there, unsurprisingly since the first tours of the evening would be underway. Settling down on the low step in front of the locked door, Trent waited.

An hour later the guides returned. The first question each one asked was if Trent had found Rory, or at least heard from him. He said he hadn’t, then waited with them until tourists arrived for the next tours. By then he was ready to leave. If Rory hadn’t appeared already, the chances were he wasn’t going to, and Trent did have his own job, which required he get at least some sleep.

For the next two days he rotated between the hotel, Rory’s apartment and the tour company. There was no sign of Rory, and no one had heard from him. Finally, Trent decided to talk to the manager of Rory’s building. He convinced the man that Rory seemed to be among the missing and that he was worried he might be sick and unable to even answer his phone.

The manager agreed to let Trent into the apartment as long as he was present. The first thing that met them when the man opened the door was a musty odor that to Trent’s way of thinking meant no one had been there since the last time he’d spoken with Rory three nights ago. As far as he could tell nothing had been disturbed and nothing was missing. Thanking the manager, he left, heading back home.

A fast online check let him know what sort of information he should give the police if he was going to file a missing person’s report. He started with Rory’s description, six-one, black hair, deep blue eyes, and slender but muscular. Age, twenty-six. He found a picture they’d taken together six months earlier when they’d decided on a whim to try out a riverboat trip, and attached it to the paper.

Then he called Rory’s parents. He hadn’t before, not wanting to worry them, but knew he had to bite the bullet now, if for no other reason than to find out if Rory had contacted them. He’d feel pretty stupid filing the report only to discover Rory had, for some unknown reason, gone back home.

Death Becomes Him - 4

When Rory didn’t show up later that evening as promised Trent began to worry. Especially after trying to call him and being sent to voicemail. He finally went to bed, hoping against hope that Rory was doing something mundane, like taking out another group of people, and had forgotten to call to let him know.

The next morning, Trent tried calling him again, with no success. After the third attempt he got a recorded message saying Rory’s voicemail box was full and no more messages could be taken.

Trent would have gone to Rory’s apartment first thing in the morning if he hadn’t had a hotel to run. As it was, he didn’t get away until well into the afternoon, and then only long enough to make a quick trip through the Quarter to Marigny where Rory lived. He pushed the buzzer repeatedly, to no avail. Taking advantage of someone leaving, he got inside and went up to Rory’s apartment. There was no answer to his knocking, even though he tried for several minutes.

Finally defeated, he returned to work and a meeting with a potential new supplier for the hotel’s small restaurant.

By the time he was able to leave for the day it was closing in on six-thirty in the evening. He headed straight to the Quarter and Rory’s tour company, which was in a small two-story building that had once held a tiny voodoo shop on the ground floor. When he arrived he found four of Rory’s employees standing outside, along with a group of what he presumed were tourists. He immediately buttonholed one of the employees asking what was going on.

“Waiting for Mr Mathieu to show up, Mr Dickens,” the young woman replied. “He’s late. Way late. We can’t start the tours without him here to deal with the money part of it.”

“He’s usually here by three,” said a young man Trent recognized as the somewhat flaky Jack.

“None of you have heard from him?” Trent asked, looking at the costumed tour guides. There was a universal shaking of heads in response.

“I tried calling him,” Mick, Rory’s assistant manager, told him. “His voicemail is full. I usually handle things when he’s not here, as far as selling tickets, but only after he’s come by to open up, which he didn’t today.”

“I got the same thing this morning when I tried calling,” Trent admitted. “At this point, I’d say carry on for this evening without him. Some of those people”—he nodded toward the assembled tourists—“might already have tickets so they should get their promised tour. The same holds for any of the other tours tonight, but put a sign on the door saying there won’t be any more until further notice. If the rest of those people want to go along, you might as well let them. Mick, you hang on to the money and give it to Rory tomorrow when he shows up.”

The employees looked relieved that Trent was, to some degree, taking charge for the moment. He wondered how long that would last once they realized if Rory didn’t appear by the next evening they might be out of a job, and whatever pay was owed them.

“Do you think something happened to him, Mr Dickens?” Jack asked.

“Let’s hope not. I’ll run by his place. Maybe he’s sick or”—Trent smiled wryly—“too hung over to function.”

Mick shot him a look of disbelief. “You know he doesn’t really drink that much. Not since…”

Trent nodded. Rory had cut back drastically on his drinking soon after he and Trent had restarted their relationship two years ago. Not, Rory had told him, that he ever let it get out of hand before then. But he had been known to have one or two over the limit, at which point he would walk or cab home from whatever club he was at.

“I know,” Trent replied with a tight smile. “Okay, you all carry on as best you can. I’ll come back to let you know what I find out, if anything. And call me if he does show up in the mean time.” He gave them his number and received promises from all four of them that they would.

Death Becomes Him - 3

Rory did call and they went out to dinner. It became a bi-weekly habit and not soon after, the feeling they’d had in high school began to rekindle. Two months later they were sleeping together, usually at Trent’s place, sometimes at Rory’s apartment.

That continued for almost two years during which they discussed, half-seriously, the idea of moving in together. They both liked the idea but somehow they never got it together enough to actually do it.

Then Rory disappeared.

They were supposed to meet at one of the clubs they often frequented. Just as Trent got ready to leave the house, Rory called.

“I’m going to be late. Something’s come up. Jack, you know Jack…”

“Yeah. Cute kid but a bit of a space case from what you’ve said.”

“That would be him,” Rory replied with a rueful chuckle. “Anyway, he’s decided he needs the evening off. Luckily he had one of the early tours. I’m taking over so I probably won’t get to the club until eleven or a bit later.”

“Why don’t we cancel then and you can just come by the house, if you want.”

“Oh you know I want.” Rory’s laugh was low and sexy, sending Trent’s libido into high gear. But then everything about his lover did that so he wasn’t too surprised.

“Okay, I’ll see you when you get there. Be careful.”

“Of?” Rory chuckled.

“Muggers, getting assaulted. I was just reading a story in the newspaper that said things aren’t getting…”

“You have to stop doing that,” Rory broke in. Trent could almost see him smiling with amusement. “You know I’m careful. Hell, I’ve got eyes in the back of my head when I walk to my car so stop worrying.”

“I know, but if…”

“Trent, baby, enough. I’ll be fine, as always. I’ll be at your place by eleven-thirty at the latest, I promise.”

“Okay, okay.” Trent laughed quietly. “I’ll even have your favorite meal waiting when you get here.”

“You on the half-shell?”

“Me on the bed, nude and…”

They bantered a bit about what came after the ‘and’, then ended their conversation. That was the last time Trent spoke to the man with whom he had once again fallen in love.

Death Becomes Him - 2

If questioned, Trent might have admitted he was glad Rory wasn’t involved with someone. For a while, in high school, they’d had a thing going that they both thought might become more than that. But when they went off to different schools to pursue their degrees, they’d barely stayed in contact after the first year. By the time they’d graduated the only communication between them was during the holidays when they returned home to visit their families. Even then it was minimal, a night out at a bar that would end with them promising to keep in touch. They didn’t.

“I’m not looking either.” Trent took a drink of his beer, realized that he’d emptied the bottle, and flagged down the bartender. “You want a beer or something?”

“One of those would be good,” Rory told him.

Trent ordered two beers, paying for both of them over Rory’s objections that he could afford his own. “You can get the next round,” Trent said.  

After they each took a drink, Rory asked, “How are you liking it down here so far?”

Trent smiled. “It’s living up to my expectations. Hot, humid, fun when I get a chance to get away from the job. Well, except when I went to the Ninth Ward. Damn, the destruction from Katrina was”—he shook his head—“still is, appalling.”

“Yeah. If I’d stayed with the interior design firm I probably could have earned a small fortune just on the refurbishing done to the homes of people who actually had the money to fix up their houses or businesses after she hit.”  

Trent chuckled. “Instead you decided to play tour guide.”

“Don’t knock it. I might not be a millionaire but at least I like what I’m doing. Can you say the same?”

“Actually, yes. The hotel is small but it has potential and I’m going to do my best to turn it into a place tourists come back to year after year.”

“You’ll do it too, knowing you.” Rory leaned back against the bar, studying Trent. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been too long.”

 “Well if someone who shall remain nameless had a way for me to get hold of him it might not have been.”

“Mea culpa. I’m not very good at that. Ask my folks.”

Trent smiled wryly. “I did. They said the last they’d heard from you, you were heading south. That was what, a year ago?”

“More or less. Pop had such big plans for my getting my degree and joining his firm. When I didn’t…” He shrugged. “How’s your family doing?”

“Same old same old. The folks work their butts off keeping the business running, with Jerry’s help now.”

“You’re kidding. I thought he was going to go off on his own.”

They continued talking family and rehashing old memories. While they did, Trent felt old emotions coming to the fore. Which is probably why I don’t have someone in my life. No one could live up to my expectations of what a relationship should be like. Not after him. He was well aware that was stupid on his part. It had been a high school romance, fraught with tension as they’d tried to keep their feelings secret. That only heightened our affection for each other. Living dangerously. And yet…

“What?” Rory said, breaking into Trent’s thoughts. “You suddenly went silent. Tired and ready to call it a night? It’s okay if you are. I have a midnight tour. One of my people called in sick so I’m subbing in.”

“Ghosts or vampires?”

“Ghosts.”

“Do you believe in them? Or are they just stories, and ‘haunted’ houses, to entertain the tourists?”

“Oh they’re there. You can feel them.” Rory chuckled. “Can’t see them. They don’t show up like in the bad horror flicks but I know they’re there in a few places. The rest, yeah it’s just stories passed down through the generations. Same with the vampires, like Jacques St. Germaine. He’s probably the most famous one and there are people who swear he still lives in the house on Royal. Maybe he does, who knows? I’ve never seen him.” Rory grinned. “Then again, if I were a vampire I’d be damned careful that no one saw me. Stakes through the heart would be a bit painful.”

“No kidding.” Trent finished his beer and got up. “Have fun scaring the shit out of the tourists.”

“Will do.” Rory downed his beer as well. “Look, can we, I don’t know, do dinner some night or something?”

Trent nodded. “I’d like that. You have a cell?”

Rory snorted. “Doesn’t everyone?”

They exchanged numbers, programming them into their phones, and then took off, Rory for his tour, Trent back to the small house he rented not too far from the hotel.

Now to see if he really will call. Trent chuckled softly. Or if I will as far as that goes.

Death Becomes Him - 1

Trent hadn’t seen Rory Mathieu in over four years. Now he was going to his funeral.

They had been the best of friends growing up, and more than that in high school, drifting apart when they went off to college. Then some six years ago they’d reconnected after both of them ended up in New Orleans.

Rory had always been a wild spirit so it had come as no surprise to Trent when he found out he ran one of the premier ‘Ghost and Vampire’ tour companies in the city. A far cry from Trent’s mundane job as the manager of a small hotel on St Charles, a couple of miles from the French Quarter.

Soon after Trent took over at the hotel, he ran into Rory at a club on Bourbon Street. At first he hadn’t believed what he was seeing. Rory’s dark hair hung well below his shoulders, tied back with a silver clasp. His lean body was clothed all in black, from the tight-fitting leather pants to the turtleneck to the silver-studded leather vest.

Rory happened to look across the room a moment after Trent spotted him, saw him and leapt to his feet. He moved through the crowds with an almost feline grace, coming to a stop in front of the barstool where Trent was seated.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Rory said, grinning.

Trent chuckled. “No more than mine. What the hell are you doing here? And more to the point, how long have you been here? I mean in the city, not this club,” he added.

Rory tapped the shoulder of the man sitting beside Trent, then pointed to a vacant stool halfway down the bar. Without a word of protest, the man got up and moved. Once Rory was seated he replied to Trent’s questions.

“I came down here, hell, a year after graduation. Got a job with an interior decorating firm and quit six months later to start my own business.” He chuckled. “I decided that despite my degree, designing kitchens and bathrooms in real life was not all it was cracked up to be.”

“So what’s this new business?”

“I run tours of the city that take people around to haunted houses and places where vampires are supposed to reside.”

“Aren’t there more than enough of those already?” Trent asked. “There seem to be dozens of brochures about them at the hotel.”

“The one where you’re staying?”

Trent shook his head. “The one I’m managing.”

“Ah ha. Then at least one of us is using our degree,” Rory said, winking. “And to answer your question, yeah there are a few, but mine is the best one, with the best people as guides. I’ve done my research, which is more than most of the other company owners have. My people tell little-known stories and take the tourists to places off the beaten track.”

“Don’t your competitors steal the stories, and the places, from you?”

“So you’d think, but they’re lazy. They have their niches and stick with them.” Rory leaned back, studying Trent. “You haven’t changed much.”

Trent smiled. “Nope. The same buttoned-down me. You however…” He ran his gaze over Rory from head to toe.

“It’s mostly window dressing. I’m fairly well known around here now and people expect me to look like this. But I’m not wearing the leather coat that goes with the outfit at the moment.” He grinned. “It’s too damned hot for it so I dump it except if I’m leading a tour.”

“You do that, as well as run your company?”

“Yeah. It’s fun and gets me out of the office. So how did you end up at the hotel?”

“The obvious. There was an opening, I’ve never been here before but heard it was a great place, and very accepting. Although,” Trent shrugged, “that last isn’t as much of a factor these days. Hell, Massachusetts even has gay marriage now and they say California and Connecticut will within a year or so.”

“Where were you before?”

“Colorado Springs, which makes being here seem like heaven.”

“God, I bet. So”—Rory paused as if wondering if he should ask—“do you have someone in your life now?”

Trent shook his head. “It’s been a long time since I even considered the idea of anything more permanent than a week or a month. What about you?”

“I play around, but I’m not looking.”