(Blue Notes 2)The Melody Thief Read Free

his emotions, he turned away and bit his cheek.
    “The doctor says your wrist will be fine,” Antonio said, perhaps sensing Cary’s distress.
    This can’t be real. I’m going to wake up and….
    “I need to get out of here.” The hospital room was suddenly too small. Panicked, Cary tried to sit up, but Antonio put a firm hand on his shoulder.
    “The doctor… he says you may leave when you are ready, but you have this—” He struggled to find the word. “— commozione cerebrale ,” he finally said. He pointed to his head. “You know, from falling?”
    “A concussion?” It explained the killer headache. Cary lay back in the bed. He felt overwhelmed, defeated. He lifted his hand to his face, and the IV line caught on the edge of the bed.
    “ Sì . A concussion,” Antonio said as he freed the line for Cary. “He says you must not be alone tonight. Is there somewhere I can take you? A person who can look by you, then?”
    There was no one. No family or close friends. He had no one, really, except his housekeeper, Roberta.
    “If you wish, you may stay with me.”
    Cary realized Antonio had guessed, correctly, that Cary had no one to stay with him.
    You shouldn’t be surprised. You look like street trash.
    He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He knew he looked like one of the hustlers he sometimes paid for sex, and he wondered what kind of man would willingly take someone like that in, knowing nothing about them.
    But then again, it’s not like someone with a broken wrist and a concussion would be a danger to a big guy like him.
    He considered the offer for a moment. It wasn’t as if he had anything to fear from Antonio, either. The guy had taken him to the hospital, after all. The offer was far more tempting—no, make that Antonio was far more tempting—than asking his housekeeper to play nurse and mother.
    He looked away from Antonio. He hoped it would come across as though he were thinking things through, but the truth was that the realization that he was entirely alone hit him harder than he’d expected. He’d never been weak. He’d been on his own for years. He hadn’t needed anybody’s help. And yet now, he felt vulnerable. He hated feeling vulnerable.
    He took a slow breath, doing his best to hide his emotional turmoil. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” he said, trying to sound casual, confident.
    “Not at all, signor Taylor. It would be my pleasure.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “I’m sure,” Antonio said. Then, as if realizing why Cary might hesitate to accept the invitation of a complete stranger, he added, “But if you are not confortevole —ah, what is it?—comfortable with this, I think you can stay here longer. I will not be insulted.”
    Was it any different to go home with a stranger for a night of fucking? Guys who come charging in on white horses don’t usually rape you the next day.
    He closed his eyes and saw his mother’s face. She had predicted this. You won’t be happy living that way, Cary , she said when he came out to her. It’s not natural. It’s a sexual… perversion. It’s sinful. An addiction.
    He had defended himself. I’m not a pervert, Mom. This is me. This is what I am.
    How can you say that, Cary Taylor Redding? How can you risk everything we’ve worked so hard for?
    Funny, how he’d started cruising the bars to show her he didn’t give a shit about what she thought. But he’d come to crave the sex, booze, and smokes. They satisfied a hunger his music could not. She hadn’t wanted to listen, and in the end he’d just proved her right. He had lost the only thing that really mattered to him: his music.
    It’s not forever. It’ll heal. The thought did little to allay his fear, and he moaned softly.
    “Are you all right?” That voice again. Right. Antonio.
    “Sorry,” Cary said, embarrassed. “I guess I’m still a little sleepy.”
    “It’s okay. I will ask about getting you to leave this place and perhaps something for the pain. You must