Author's Note:  Dedicated to Claire for her birthday.

(Special Thanks to Aida for her help with the French used in this story, and to

Beatrix, my Germansoulmate, and Claire, for their input and insight; and

always, my deep gratitude to Thyme, for her wonderful editing!)

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“Is that everyone on the list?” the director asked as the song went into its final refrain. Etienne wasn’t sure whether to wish that this singer who was massacring “This Is The Moment” from Jekyll and Hyde really was the last one on their audition list for the day. That would spare their ears any more torment but would leave them with no one to cast as their Marius. An eternal optimist, he had continued to hold out a faint spark of hope that some outstandingly gorgeous, talented, gay actor would appear and .... He shook his head to clear it of daydreams and looked down at the sheet for the answer to the question before the director’s annoyance was transferred from the execrable singer belting out his song in blissful ignorance of the proper notes to him, his assistant director.

“Everyone except a David Luke...but him, I see, he should have been here twenty minutes ago, so perhaps he is not coming,” he replied in a French accent that was relatively light for someone who’d only left his native Paris a few months earlier. He’d been lucky, securing this position almost immediately. Always one to make the most of every opportunity, he now was serving not only as assistant director to the very influential Alan Epstein himself, but Etienne would be playing Enjolas in this touring company of Les Miserables that they were attempting to cast. He’d made sure that he’d been heard singing the songs along with the accompanist at a time when the producer and director could hear him. As expected, the producer felt it added a touch of verisimilitude to have a real Frenchman in the production. Quite frankly, given the actors he’d seen, Etienne’s honest opinion was that his presence would more likely highlight the fact that everyone else was not French but he was not the type of person to talk himself out of a larger role. Instead, he deliberately downplayed his accent and hoped that the director did not ask him to teach the cast to sound French. From what he could tell so far, most of them had a difficult enough time doing justice to English.

The singer began yet another interminable stanza. With a sympathetic look at his director’s pained expression, Etienne took action, standing and clapping his hands so enthusiastically that the young singer stopped his caterwauling. This ended the performance before he reached the “money” note for which most singers chose this song as their audition piece–it gave the talented singers a true chance to show off– but from this singer’s expression of relief, it was clear he had doubted his ability to nail it as required. He was not alone in that doubt–the director, Etienne and the accompanist all were sure he would have fallen far short of the mark. In any event, no one objected to being spared his attempt.

“Bon, Bon! That is enough, merci! I was quite carried away, monsieur. You have left such an impression, my English fails me!” Etienne switched to speaking rapid French, seemingly pouring praise on the blushing singer as he ushered him from the stage. A startled laugh from the back of the room at a particularly effusive sounding phrase made all of the men look in the direction of the sound.

And thus, thought Etienne, dazed, would Apollo look if the Gods still visited mere mortals for an afternoon’s amusement. The laughter had come from the most perfectly formed man Etienne had ever seen–and he was a connoisseur of men. His Apollo’s hair was black as night and loosely curled about his ears and neck. His eyes could be seen to be bright green and sparkling, even all the way from the back of the theater; his face was almost classically handsome, with a perfect nose, full sculpted lips, high cheekbones, and a flawless skin that was tanned and glowing, but there was just enough mischievousness to it to save it from being too handsome. His shoulders which were broad tapered down to a narrow waist and slim hips, with long legs that looked muscular even in his dark tailored slacks. He wore a white shirt with rolled up sleeves that revealed toned, muscular arms. As he walked toward the front of the room, he moved with a dancer’s sure grace.

Apollo, his green eyes alight with humor, gave Etienne the slightest of conspiratorial winks before saying in flawless French, “Your English fails you when it comes to describing singing that bad is what you really meant to say. Escaping to French is only useful if you can count on no one else understanding. But really, sir, to say you’ve heard mules in heat sound better can’t be right, can it? Aren’t mules sterile? ”

Without missing a beat, Etienne flashed his own wide, slightly crooked, but very charming smile and said, “Exactement.”

Apollo tipped his head to the side for a moment as he considered that response. His smile reappeared, this time with deep dimples on either side of the lovely mouth. Etienne stared back, enchanted, the others forgotten.

“So do I have the part?”

Etienne stared down. The forgotten, but not gone, singer was still standing there, waiting impatiently for the A.D. to return his attention to where it belonged. At least to where, in the singer’s inflated opinion of himself, it belonged. Why, Etienne wondered, did untalented actors and singers never realize their shortcomings? He sent up a quick prayer to all the Gods that his Apollo could sing. He could teach him to act if need be. And yes, he was already planning on making this dimpled, green-eyed God his; no God would be so cruel as to create such a man and make him straight, to his way of thinking. Some requests were beyond the need for prayer.

Practically shoving the other man out the door with the Gallic equivalent of “don’t call us, we’ll call you,” Etienne turned his full attention back to Apollo. Finally. Time to find out his real name. Etienne extended his hand to the young man who was returning his look with friendly interest.

“Etienne Lanier, assistant director, at your service. And you are?”

“He is late and auditions are over, Lanier.”

Etienne turned and looked at the director incredulously. Why in the world would he not take a moment to audition this God after the day they’d spent? Surely his singing could not be any worse than what they’d heard already. His speaking voice belied such a possibility. The young god protested.

“Come on, Alan, I got here as quickly as I could under the circumstances. I’d been given a message that my audition was moved to tomorrow. I had to rush over from a photo shoot halfway across town to get here before your last singer left, which I was only able to do because my agent got word of the mix-up. Funny how even a stage name seems to have the same ‘bad luck’ that haunted my real name around here.” The green eyes flashed but the deep voice was calm.

Etienne looked between the director and his Apollo, whom he gathered was the missing David Luke. Who cared if the man arrived twenty minutes after his scheduled audition time? They were running twenty minutes more than late anyway and they hadn’t yet found a decent Marius. This man certainly looked the part of a romantic lead and if his speaking voice were anything to judge by, his vocal instrument was as gorgeous as that face.

Sam, the pianist, broke the tension by playing a few measures of an old standard that caused Alan to relax and the young man to smile.

“Rather than having a staring contest, Alan, why don’t you let Danny sing a few for us. After the afternoon we’ve had, we deserve to hear some decent singing. It can’t hurt and I’m sure he understands you’re not making him any promises. Get your ass up here, O’Keefe. Or do I have to call you Luke?”

If Etienne had been confused before, Sam’s entering the lists added surprise to the mix. In the weeks that they’d been working to put the show together, Sam hardly spoke to him. He was assisting the musical director, but was the least talkative man Etienne had ever met, rarely offering more than a brusque affirmative or negative on the people who auditioned. Etienne had written the man off as competent but anti-social at best, completely misanthropic at worst. This was the first time he’d seen anything even remotely resembling a smile on the man’s face and he was startled to realize that he was strikingly handsome.

“Fine, go on. No promises, though. Do you know the grief I’ll get if I cast you? But fuck it if I don’t have half a mind to put up with it just to hear someone who can carry a tune. Go on.”

Apollo/Luke/Danny gave them a brilliant grin then bounded up onto the stage, taking it in a running leap from where he’d stood midway down the aisle.

“Good physicality,” Etienne murmured to the director, who rolled his eyes.

“You think? Try Joffrey-quality ballet dancer, not to mention All-American Soccer star in college ...trouble is...well, it’s a long story what the trouble is...just listen.”

Etienne was expecting another show tune, a big tenor or baritone number as most of the Marius hopefuls had sung. Instead, his god-like singer leaned against the piano and in a deep, soulful voice sang a Shirley Bassey song that made Etienne think of every love he’d ever had and lost.

The sun comes up, I think about you
The coffee cup, I think about you
I want you so
It's like I'm losing my mind

The morning ends, I think about you
I talk to friends, I think about you
And do they know?
It's like I'm losing my mind

All afternoon, doing every little chore
The thought of you stays bright
Sometimes I stand in the middle of the floor
Not going left, not going right
I dim the lights
And think about you
Spend sleepless nights
To think about you
You said you loved me
Or were you just being kind?
Or am I losing my mind?

This was a singer who knew not only how to hit the money notes so that they soared to the back row of the highest level of the theater with the clarity of a bell, but also how to hold a note quietly, infusing it with tender longing and sustaining it on barely a whisper of breath.

Alan Epstein, the director, sighed with pleasure as the last note finally faded. Etienne looked to see if it would be politic to clap– obviously there was some dynamic at play that he was not privy to, since this man that Alan didn’t want to audition was easily the most talented singer they’d seen all day. While the song he’d chosen wasn’t a typical song to show off a tenor’s range, it did all that and more. There was no question he could perform the vocal part of Marius with ease. Etienne pulled out the resume for David Luke, which he hadn’t bothered looking at earlier since the man hadn’t appeared on his call list. He saw that he had majored in music as well as dance in college and already had a masters in fine arts. He’d played several of the main tenor roles in college and regional theater, won vocal and dance awards, and toured with Cher as a dancer and choreographer. Impressive for someone who looked so young. Who was so young...based on his high school date he could only be in his very early twenties, Etienne surmised.

“How about another, Danny?” Sam asked.

Danny looked down at Alan, smiling slightly. “Is there anything you’d like to hear, Alan? I was going to sing ‘Close Every Door’ from Joseph but you must be sick of most of the usual tenor songs by this late in the day.”

The normally short-tempered director was not proof against that smile, Etienne noted.

“Well, you do sing that number well, I’ll grant you that, but after hearing it at least a half dozen times today, I wouldn’t love it if Joseph himself were to come down and sing it for me wearing the original multi-colored coat with a chorus of angels accompanying him. Tell you what, you want to sing a show tune for me, you sing ‘Meadowlark’ and I might be a happy man. No promises though.”

The dimples flashed. “No promises, understood. Favorite song of mine too.”

Etienne couldn’t recall any song called “Meadowlark.” The choice amused Sam also, however, so it was obviously one he knew. The saturnine piano player commenced playing a lovely long opening as Danny walked over to a stool and moved it to the center of the stage. Perching on it casually, he began to sing.

WHEN I WAS A CHILD I HAD A FAVORITE STORY
OF THE MEADOWLARK WHO LIVED WHERE THE RIVERS WIND
HER VOICE COULD MATCH THE ANGELS' IN ITS GLORY
BUT SHE WAS BLIND, THE LARK WAS BLIND
AN OLD KING CAME AND TOOK HER TO HIS PALACE
WHERE THE WALLS WERE BURNISHED BRONZE AND GOLDEN BRAID
AND HE FED HER FRUIT AND NUTS FROM AN IVORY CHALICE
AND HE PRAYED:
"SING FOR ME, MY MEADOWLARK,
SING FOR ME OF THE SILVER MORNING,
SET ME FREE, MY MEADOWLARK,
AND I'LL BUY YOU A PRICELESS JEWEL
AND CLOTH OF BROCADE AND CREWEL
AND I'LL LOVE YOU FOR LIFE,
IF YOU WILL SING FOR ME."
THEN ONE DAY AS THE LARK SANG BY THE WATER
THE GOD OF THE SUN HEARD HER IN HIS FLIGHT
AND HER SINGING MOVED HIM SO
HE CAME AND BROUGHT HER THE GIFT OF SIGHT
HE GAVE HER SIGHT
AND SHE OPENED HER EYES TO THE SHIMMER AND THE SPLENDOR
OF THIS BEAUTIFUL, YOUNG GOD, SO PROUD AND STRONG
AND HE CALLED TO THE LARK IN A VOICE BOTH ROUGH AND TENDER
"COME ALONG.
FLY WITH ME, MY MEADOWLARK,
FLY WITH ME ON THE SILVER MORNING,
PAST THE SEA WHERE THE DOLPHINS BARK
WE WILL DANCE ON THE CORAL BEACHES,
MAKE A FEAST OF THE PLUMS AND PEACHES
JUST AS FAR AS YOUR VISION REACHES
FLY WITH ME."
BUT THE MEADOWLARK SAID NO
FOR THE OLD KING LOVED HER SO
SHE COULDN'T BEAR TO WOUND HIS PRIDE
SO THE SUN GOD FLEW AWAY
AND WHEN THE KING CAME DOWN THAT DAY
HE FOUND HIS MEADOWLARK HAD DIED

EVERY TIME I HEARD THAT PART I CRIED.

At this point in the song, Etienne felt as though he too would cry, seeing the beautiful young man in his white shirt, alone on the stage, singing so beautifully, looking off into the empty theater as though looking at something that he alone could see. As though sensing Etienne’s empathy, Danny stood up at that point, and, looking directly at the Frenchman, he sang the final verse.

 

AND NOW I STAND HERE STARRY-EYED AND STORMY
OH, JUST WHEN I THOUGHT MY HEART WAS FINALLY NUMB
A BEAUTIFUL, YOUNG MAN APPEARS BEFORE ME,
SINGING “COME, OH, WON'T YOU COME?”
AND WHAT CAN I DO IF FINALLY FOR THE FIRST TIME
THE ONE I'M BURNING FOR RETURNS THE GLOW?
IF LOVE HAS COME AT LAST IT'S PICKED THE WORST TIME
STILL I KNOW
I'VE GOT TO GO

FLY AWAY, MEADOWLARK
FLY AWAY IN THE SILVER MORNING,
IF I STAY, I'LL GROW TO CURSE THE DARK
SO IT'S OFF WHERE THE DAYS WON'T BIND ME
I KNOW I LEAVE WOUNDS BEHIND ME
BUT I WON'T LET TOMORROW FIND ME
BACK THIS WAY
BEFORE MY PAST ONCE AGAIN CAN BLIND ME
FLY AWAY ...
AND WE WON'T WAIT
TO SAY GOOD-BYE
MY BEAUTIFUL YOUNG MAN
AND I.

Danny reached out his hand as he sang the final lines, holding the last note impossibly long. It took all of Etienne’s will power not to jump up from his seat and clasp that beckoning hand.

It was just as well he restrained himself. As soon as Danny finished, he bowed slightly toward his audience of two, but then walked briskly over to Sam, his dimpled smile back as he exclaimed,  “I love singing while you play! I can’t believe anyone could ever sound bad with you playing for them! Well, I can because I heard that last guy.” That dimpled smile flashed mischievously again. “I guess even you can’t make someone hit the notes. I saw that you did change keys once to help him. I almost burst out laughing then. Oh, sorry, Alan, I know I’m breaking all the rules about ‘how to audition’ here but it isn’t like you’re really auditioning me anyway.” Danny turned and sent another one of his charming smiles at the director before walking forward to hug the piano player.

“Damn,” Alan said to Etienne in a low voice. “I’ve never seen anyone hug Maximilian; I’ve known people who’ve had sex with him who say they’ve never been allowed to hug him.”

Etienne could believe it. The man exuded an arrogant, well bred air that did not lend itself to such familiarity. Alan cleared his throat loudly to regain the attention of the two men on stage.

“When you two are finished with your catching up, perhaps you could give me some idea what you expect me to do with you, O’Keefe? I assume from your little problem with the timing of your audition and your use of a stage name that it’s fair to say that your difficulties here in New York have not cleared up?”

Danny O’Keefe, (Etienne made a note of the name now that he had both a first and a last name to go with his David Luke, Apollo, God of the Green Eyes and Dimpled Smile), twisted his mouth into a semblance of that killer smile. Only one dimple showed, Etienne noted, adding to his mental inventory of facts about this new, fascinating creature. This one dimpled smile could fool you into thinking he was amused, if you hadn’t already seen his real smile, Etienne mused. He wondered what the “difficulties” were and despite his normally very selfish character, found himself filled with the unusual desire of wanting to help solve them.

“One could say that. I got back from touring with la Cher several weeks ago and have been going out on calls. Apparently he has no problem with my modeling here...I think he likes it. Probably cuts out the pictures for his scrapbook. But no dance companies. And I am beginning to suspect no acting. I tried out for several plays here in New York and it was the same old song and dance...pun intended. I’d hoped this would be different, Alan, since you’re casting for a road company. Besides, surely he doesn’t have any influence on you. You’ve been in this business a long time. My agent, Dominic Russo, I believe you know him? Well, he’s always told me you’re a name to be reckoned with in this town. So if anyone would tell Edward to fuck off, other than Cher, that is, it’s you.” Danny had crouched down on the stage so that his face was closer to the director as he made his earnest pitch.

“That’s what Dom says, huh? He’s as much of a kiss ass as you are, kid. How’s his heart doing?” Alan tried to look cynical but Etienne could tell he was pleased by the accolade. He waited patiently to be introduced to the young charmer since his own attempt to exchange names had been cut off.

“He’s doing well, as long as he cuts back a bit. His son Vince is taking over more of the accounts.” A shadow passed over Danny’s face at the mention of the agent’s son. Etienne was fascinated watching the expressive features that revealed every emotion except when the young man seemed to remind himself to repress them. He wondered exactly how old he was.

“You know, Danny, you’re not going to like hearing this, but did you ever consider that maybe you should just play along with Simon? Stop making it so hard on yourself...and all the rest of us who want to work with a performer of your caliber and let him spoil you for a year or so. How bad could it be?”

The handsome face flushed and a quick look was darted at Etienne, who pretended to be busy looking at the head shots, while Sam busied himself at his piano, looking through sheet music. There was silence for a full minute and Etienne wondered if he should say something to break the awkward pause. Before he could think of something suitably inane, Danny spoke softly, addressing his words to Etienne.

“I’ve been very rude. You introduced yourself to me before I sang and I didn’t get the chance to respond. Mr. Lanier, my name is Daniel David O’Keefe, my friends call me Danny, and lately I’ve been using David Luke as a stage name. Please, feel free to call me whichever name you wish as you have become privy to my personal business and I feel as though we are quite friendly as a result. What Alan is referring to is the fact that despite what you have heard of my singing ability, I am unable to secure any parts here in New York because a certain powerful man here in the city has had me blackballed in a manner quite Gothic, unless I submit to his carnal desires.”

“Danny, you make it sound so melodramatic. It isn’t like he’s going to beat you...” Alan broke in roughly, before Etienne could respond.

“No, at least not to my knowledge. He just wants to fuck me,” Danny replied bluntly, getting up from where he’d been crouching at the edge of the stage. “Listen, you said no promises, Alan, so I understand completely and there’s no hard feelings. I know you meant well but forgive me if I don’t take your advice. Good luck to you in finding a decent Marius. I’ll tell Dom you said hello.”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t go storming off like that,” Alan blustered. “I was just trying to talk sense to you, I wasn’t saying I wouldn’t cast you. I need to figure out what I’m going to do here. I’ve got a Javert I know is in his pocket and will walk if I do cast you.”

Before Danny could say another word, Etienne spoke up. “Excuse me, but how can he do that when he is under contract?”

Alan waved his hand. “The rehearsals are a week late starting so there is a clause that gives him an out. It’s in all the leads’ contracts.”

“So, if Javert can walk out simply for the play being late starting....”

“He wouldn’t really walk out for that reason,” Danny said bitterly. “He’ll threaten to leave using that as his excuse, but the real reason is that he’s someone who has been helped by Edward Simon. Edward is, shall we say, a patron of the arts, and has made it very clear that he would frown upon anyone performing with me unless he gives the okay. Which he will not give unless I put out.”

“We have a word for that in French,” Etienne exclaimed, outraged.

“There are quite a few words for it in English too,” Sam interjected dryly, from his place at the piano.

“So I’m the bad guy here for trying to be realistic,” Alan complained. “It’s no different than girls have done for ages, men too, truth be told, gay and straight. At least you like men, Danny. More than one guy has bent over and thought of England, so to speak, if it meant getting the part he wanted. In your case....”

“In my case, I shouldn’t have to,” Danny snapped. “Maybe that’s the way it’s played by people who choose to use their bodies as a ticket to parts rather than hone their talent, or to make up for a deficiency of talent, but I’ve worked damn hard to be judged on more than my looks, Alan, and you know it. What Edward’s doing isn’t right and you know that too. It isn’t fair to me and it isn’t fair to you. So, you go ahead and cast someone inferior to me as Marius but don’t ask me to bend over for Edward so you can have the privilege of casting me without the necessity of finding your fucking balls first and doing it without Edward’s permission.”

With that, Danny O’Keefe walked out of the theater without a backward glance. He managed to refrain from slamming the door as he left, but there was a very audible click as it closed.

There was a second as Sam closed the cover on his piano. As he stood to leave, he quietly said, “Please consider this my notice, Alan. You may be keeping your Javert by not casting Danny, but you’re losing my services, humble as they are, in not doing so.”

“Aw, fuck, Sam. You know I need you. Besides, you can’t afford to get on Simon’s bad side. You live and work in this City. Be reasonable, we’ll be on the road and....” The saturnine looking man continued to impassively put on his coat and pick up his battered bag filled with sheet music.

“I must regretfully decline my position as well,” Etienne announced suddenly. This made even Sam look up, startled.

“Oh for the fucking love of God, what does that kid have going for him that makes grown men act like idiots?” Alan muttered, throwing up his hands. “You quit and what are you going to do? Don’t you need this position to stay in the damn country?”

“I will work as a waiter or a French tutor if I must, but I will not be accomplice to... to... to a pimp!” Etienne said dramatically. Sam snickered at the look of outrage on Alan’s thin face.

 

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Danny accepted a beer from Arthur then slumped down at one of the few booths at Divas. He had rarely felt this down but it was getting hard to stay upbeat after almost four years of Edward Simon’s increasingly intense campaign against him. He twisted his lips in a bitter smile. One couldn’t really call what Edward was doing something against him; he was sure Edward didn’t see it that way. It was more of a determined plan for achieving submission. Danny’s.

Kindly old Arthur sat opposite him, ready to wait for the story to come pouring out. Having been a teacher for many years before coming out of his particular closet, moving to New York City and buying a gay bar on his investment money, he’d long ago learned that the best method for getting to the root of any problem with a young person was simply to wait...and listen.

Danny was no exception. After a few more deep gulps from his stein of beer, Danny looked across the table, his expression still stormy.

“I did great, Arthur, I really did. Despite fucking Edward playing his usual tricks and having someone leave a message with Dom’s office that my audition had been moved. I have George to thank for getting that straightened out. So I rush over from a photo shoot that I only took last minute because I thought my afternoon was clear and I arrive just twenty minutes late. The guy ahead of me was still singing. But Alan tries using my being late to stop me from auditioning–but that comes later. First, there’s the guy I hear singing. He’s terrible, you know, really atrocious, and it’s clear from the look on Sam’s face that they haven’t heard anyone decent all day. He’s got that ‘Lord, just kill me now’ look on his face that he gets, you know the one?”

Arthur nodded, smiling. Sam had the most expressive expressionless face of anyone you’d ever want to meet. He could do more with a faint lift of the eyebrow....

“So, then, I see this really tall, really angular Frenchman, he’s the assistant director, I think, he said his name is Etienne Lanier, I’ll have to ask Dom about him, anyway, he’s getting the guy out of the theater by insulting him in French, but in a way that sounds like he’s praising him to the skies, completely hilarious. You can see why I lost it, can’t you? The poor fucker thought he nailed the part since Lanier’s face was so expressively admiring but what he was saying was the complete opposite.” Danny grinned and took another swig from his beer.

Arthur nodded again encouragingly but his attention was caught by Danny’s interest in this Lanier. His voice had brightened when he mentioned him. It was the first time in a long while that Danny had shown a genuine interest in someone. He made a note to ask Sam about the man. For now, he gently asked Danny for information.

“What was he like, this Mr. Lanier?”

“Besides very tall, very French, very amusing and very gay?” Danny’s eyes twinkled as he took another big swallow from his beer.

Arthur’s eyes twinkled back at him. He was glad to see his young friend’s mood improving. He encouraged this line of discussion some more. “You could tell he was gay right away of course.”

“Arthur, I can tell if a man is gay within ten seconds.”

“That long, Angel boy? You need to hone your gaydar!” Roz, the bartender called over. Arthur shook his head at Danny’s expression. “Don’t look so surprised, Danny. The man has ears like a ...hmm, I don’t know. What animal has great hearing? I was a math teacher. Animals were never my forte.”

“Beats me, I know even less than you. I was an arts major in school. Ask me something about dance or music. Science and natural history were never my subjects,” Danny grinned. “In my family, we always said something had hearing like Mama.” He raised his voice slightly to carry better to the bar–not that it was needed, apparently. “I will accept your point, Roz. Ten seconds is rather long, now that I come to think of it. I knew within two seconds with this guy, by the way he was looking me over that he was as gay as you, Roz. But with less make-up.” The former drag queen behind the bar laughed at that and Danny saluted him with his beer before continuing his story. “Anyway, he’s attractive, in a non-traditional way. Rather angular features, angular body, all long and bony, I guess a rangy build is what you’d call it. Rather like my brother John. He’s got an aquiline nose, prominent cheekbones, very Gallic looking, with light brown hair, nice voice. Not handsome in a traditional sense by any means but a certain something. You’d remember him long after you’d forget a pretty boy.”

“Seems to have made an impression on you,” Arthur observed.

“In two seconds,” Roz added, mockingly.

Danny gave Roz the bird as he finished off his beer. “Well, it wouldn’t matter if he had. I didn’t get past step one. I think he liked me quite a bit... my singing, Roz,” Danny raised his voice again as he added that point but the tall queen just laughed at him and drew him another draft from the tap. Danny smiled and continued his story. “But I was cock-blocked by dear old Edward once again. Alan was afraid to take a chance on casting me since he would lose his Javert and probably a few more of his cast if he did. Damn, I just wish I could get the chance....”

An amused voice interrupted. “I do hope your wish has something to do with performing the part of Marius in the road company of Les Miserables, otherwise, I just quit my job over nothing.”

Danny looked up startled. It was Sam, accompanied by Etienne Lanier.

Danny stood up quickly. “What are you doing here?” He looked from Sam to the Frenchman.

Sam raised an eyebrow reproachfully and Danny, who had no trouble talking back to a half dozen larger, brawnier older brothers, flushed. Samuel Maximilian always engendered his fullest respect and could reprimand him effectively without a word.

“I’m sorry, excuse me. Arthur, this is Etienne Lanier, the man I was telling you about, the one who is working with Alan on the production of Les Miz, monsieur Lanier, this is my good friend Arthur Delacourt.”

As Etienne reached out to clasp Arthur’s hand he heard a loud clatter from behind him.

“Ahem,” Roz cleared his throat after rattling a few trays to get attention before he sashayed over to the table with Danny’s new beer. He no longer dressed in full drag but he was still partial to platform heels and make-up. At six foot four in his fishnet stockings, the heels gave him the ability to look down on pretty much everyone who ever came into the bar, with the notable exception of Danny’s Green Beret brother, who was six-nine. Still, Roz missed his days of sequins and lame, so he liked to do what he could to make up for it, and if it meant making a little extra noise...so be it.

“Who did you say we have here sweet cheeks?” Roz batted his false eyelashes at the rugged looking Frenchman. Danny had been right. The man did have a certain presence to him.

“Lanier, this frightening creature batting those ridiculously fake lashes at you is the one and only Roz, formerly a drag queen beyond compare, and now merely a queen beyond good taste.” Sam made the introduction in his cultured voice, flexing his hands over the small candle on the table. He’d taken the seat next to Arthur. He maintained his usual bored expression but his eyes were keenly watching the dynamics between the Frenchman and young Danny. He’d surprised himself by quitting on Alan Epstein today, but not as much as Lanier had surprised him by following his lead. He would have bet his autographed copy of the original Broadway soundtrack to Funny Girl that Lanier was someone who looked out for number one, and the only candidate for number one was Etienne Lanier. In fact, Sam wouldn’t be surprised if Lanier had his own name penciled in for spots two through ten as well; he was a man who knew how to take care of himself, a guy with an eye for the main chance is how it would have been phrased in the old days.

Yet, Lanier seemed to be genuinely enthralled by young O’Keefe’s talent and had been indignant over Epstein’s reluctance to cast him and his suggestion that Danny accede to Simon’s demands. It wasn’t merely sexual attraction, although there certainly was that. Sam had watched Lanier as he responded almost viscerally to Danny’s singing. Sam was a master at reading audiences, and it was his considered opinion that the Frenchman genuinely had been moved as he listened to Danny sing. That was why he invited the man to accompany him to Divas, where he knew he’d find Danny pouring out his troubles to Arthur. It was about time the kid had something to focus on besides his career...and worry over his sister. While Danny pretended to be content with casual flings and the type of meaningless tricks that were constantly available to someone as attractive as he was, it didn’t take the expert in reading people that Sam was to realize that the toughness Danny projected was all an act. He also knew that Danny had been back home to Pittsburgh recently and had come back looking like a kicked puppy.

Watching as Danny and Lanier both talked to Arthur rather than to each other despite their obvious attraction, Sam considered the best way to speed matters along. He and Lanier didn’t want to tell Danny yet and get his hopes up too soon, but they were waiting for Epstein to call and confirm that he’d managed to secure Peter Jensen to be the new Javert. Jensen was known primarily as one of the city’s outstanding opera singers, but he was also known to take a part in the occasional musical when the spirit moved him. The opportunity to work with Danny, with whom he’d performed at a Wagner Festival two years earlier, and also to thumb his nose at Edward Simon at the same time, was sure to appeal to him.

Performing with a complementary talent could be quite an aphrodisiac, Sam mused. Then he smiled, a rare sight. That was the key.

“Arthur, I think we should take advantage of having these youngsters here and get them to sing for us. The bar is starting to fill up, so send Roz back to work and I’ll go over to the piano...for free... and you can request one of your favorites, perhaps something from, oh, I don’t know, Les Miserables?”

Arthur was delighted to second the suggestion but Danny looked at Sam surprised. He couldn’t even begin to count the ways in which Sam was acting unlike himself tonight. Still, it might be fun to sing with this Etienne, find out how he sounded, how they sounded together.

“What specific song would you suggest, Sam? You know both of our voices so you are at an advantage, yes?” Etienne spoke lightly as he readily stood up and gestured for Danny to precede him over to the piano. It was early yet, so while there were certainly more patrons in the bar than there had been a half hour earlier, there was still plenty of space around the piano. Most of the customers clustered around the main bar where Roz held court. Smiling somewhat quizzically, Danny walked gracefully to the large grand piano and looked to his favorite accompanist for direction.

“I think rather than Marius and Enjolas’ songs right now, what I’d like to hear the two of you do is something a little more challenging. ‘Confrontation’ would be fun to do cold, don’t you think?”

Danny blinked, a bit startled that Sam would suggest they perform that song. For all that it was just a gay piano bar, any time Danny sang in public he considered it a performance and he knew Sam did too, so calling a number that required tight counterpart singing “challenging” was putting it mildly. He glanced at Etienne and saw that the other man didn’t look at all bothered by the choice. If anything, he looked intrigued. And amused.

This might be fun, Danny thought, his own sense of adventure rising. Conferring quickly, they decided that Danny would sing Valjean’s part and Etienne the part of Javert.

With a grin, Danny asked, “In English or French, do you think?”

“Why, I think we start with the English, and if it goes well, then we switch When we switch, then you can be the upright Constable Javert and I will be the noble Valjean. In the native French, it is more suitable, d'accord?”

As they bantered, neither noticed, as Sam did, the two men who entered and sat together at a table near the bar, Alan Epstein and Pete Jensen. Of course, in watching those two men, even the keen eyed Sam missed seeing three other notable persons who entered shortly after them, Angel O’Keefe and her two companions, Edward Simon and George Main. Roz and Arthur were so busy listening to the two young men singing, as was most of the bar, that it fell to the assistant bartenders to serve both sets of latecomers.

The duet was incredible. Their performance would have been impressive under the circumstances, performed cold, by two singers who’d never sung together before, without warming up, etc. But none of those qualifiers were needed...they were magic together. Within seconds, as soon as they reached the part where the song called for them to sing in counterpoint, they realized that they were connecting and started building on that, the power of their voices blending into a whole that was greater than the sum of the parts. The room went still as the two men started stalking each other in an improvised blocking of the confrontation scene, their words volleying with such intensity it was impossible to believe they hadn’t rehearsed the scene, much less ever sung together before.

As Danny and Etienne sang the final words, somehow communicating with each other so as to keep the dynamics the same, fading together as one voice, the room was silent for a beat, then exploded in applause.

A slender black haired man stood up to applaud, his trained voice easily rising above the din of the crowd.

“Bravo, bravo! But Alan, I am dismayed. You got my hopes up that I would get to play Javert, and I see that you have this giant Frenchman to play him...with handsome Daniel as Valjean...the teen version of Les Miz, what a clever idea!” Pete Jensen’s rich voice cut through all the shouts of praise.

“Very funny, Pete.” Danny looked over from the warm hug he was giving his singing partner to grin at the opera singer. His gaze was caught by the trio sitting on the other side of the room. His sister waved cheerfully at him once she saw that she had his attention. She chose that moment to respond to Jensen herself.

“Now, Pete, you know Danny hasn’t been a teenager for ages now...that’s why you stopped chasing him, isn’t it?”

Etienne saw that while the dark haired man sitting with the beautiful woman who made the comment laughed, and clearly the woman had to be related to Danny since she looked enough like him that she had to be a sister, the other man, who was fair, did not. Both men were older, although it was difficult to tell their ages. The woman looked to be in her mid to late twenties, Etienne’s own age, perhaps.

“Simon,” Sam murmured quietly behind him. Etienne had guessed as much from the frown on Alan Epstein’s face and the tension that entered the young man next to him. One moment young Daniel had been so happy, and the next, while his face stayed just as pleasant, his body tensed like a cat about to spring.

Looking at Edward Simon’s handsome face for the very first time, Etienne decided that he did not like the man at all.

But then, looking at Angel O’Keefe’s very beautiful, slightly dissipated face for the first time also, he felt he was not going to like her very much either, despite her very strong resemblance to the young man he was beginning to like quite a bit. Something told him he was looking at kindred souls who were extremely selfish people.

Etienne Lanier was a selfish person himself and there was a lot to be said for the adage, it takes one to know one. By the end of that first evening, he was sure of three things. One, he had met the love of his life in Daniel David O’Keefe. Two, he truly feared Edward Simon and needed to get both of them away from that man. And three, that Angel O’Keefe was a selfish person who was a danger to Danny when it came to Edward Simon, as she would always put herself first.

Etienne hoped that the same would never be true of him.