Christmas Waltz Read online

  1 (2.1 ounces) pkg. precooked bacon, cut into ½-inch pieces

  1 cup shredded Cheddar cheese (I use a Cheddar-Jack mix)

  ¼ cup finely chopped green onions (4 medium-size onions)

  Directions

  Heat oven to 350°F. Spray 11x7 or 12x8-inch (2-quart) glass baking dish with cooking spray or smear with butter. Beat egg and milk with wire whisk until smooth. Salt and pepper to taste. Separate dough into 8 biscuits and cut each into quarters. Gently stir biscuit pieces into egg mixture to coat evenly. Fold in bacon, cheese, and onions. Spoon mixture into sprayed dish; arrange biscuit pieces in single layer.

  Bake at 350°F for 28 minutes or until golden-brown. Cut into squares. Feeds 3-4 hungry people on Christmas morning.

  BLOOD RED BUTTERFLY: Ryo and Kai

  Ryo had probably had worse Christmases. He couldn’t remember one, though.

  First, he had to work. That was a drag, but he was the new man on the totem pole at Barton and Ross Investigations, so fair enough. He was the guy pulling stakeout duty on Christmas morning. Somebody had to be. Too bad, because it was his and Kai’s first holiday as a couple, but he could wait a few hours to see what goodies Santa brought him. Except what Santa had brought seemed to be strife and unhappiness.

  Ryo shifted position behind the wheel of the sedan. His butt ached from sitting for hours. Though not as much as his heart ached.

  You were supposed to be honest with the people you loved, right? You didn’t tell them lies to keep the peace or make life easier on yourself. So when Kai had started in about how Laurel and Ojiisan were forcing Kenji to spend Christmas with them, Ryo had intervened.

  “Dude, you have to think about what’s best for Kenji,” he had said.

  “I am thinking of that!” Kai had snarled. He was pacing up and down the living room floor, past the towering Christmas tree piled with gifts and toys for his little son. “It’s our first Christmas together.”

  “Yeah, so you’ve said about a dozen times now. But if Kenji wants to be with his mother and Oji—”

  “Laurel’s lying!”

  “Dude.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s my turn. I’ve waited and waited for this.” Kai’s fox-brown eyes glittered dangerously in his pale, furious face.

  No wonder the kid was scared of him.

  But Ryo did not say that. There were some truths you could not ever share. Instead he said, “Look, what do a few hours matter? He’ll be here the day after Christmas, right? He’ll love it. He gets two Christmases for the price of one.”

  “It’s not the same! This was our first Christmas. You’re not going to be here. Now Kenji’s not going to be here.” Kai whirled away again and started another lap of the festively decorated room.

  He’d gone all out. It looked—and smelled—like Santa’s Village in there. Garland and candles and a couple of life-size reindeer statues. Whatever. If it made him happy, it made Ryo happy.

  But then disaster. Laurel had called to say Kenji now wanted to spend Christmas Day at home. He was worried that Santa might not find him at his father’s or some such excuse. The thing was, Kenji didn’t really need an excuse. Not in Ryo’s opinion. If he was happier waking up Christmas morning in his own bed, well, he was the little kid, after all. Kai was just going to have to swallow his disappointment.

  But he had not swallowed his disappointment. He had been ranting and raving for nearly an hour when Ryo had made the mistake of trying to reason with him.

  To Ryo’s way of thinking, not only was it unfair to blame Laurel and Ojiisan for this change in plans, it wasn’t healthy. Yes, it was Kai’s turn to have Kenji spend Christmas—more than his turn—and yes, Kenji would have had a great time. He usually ended up having a great time, even if he always arrived on their doorstep shy and uncertain and sort of reluctant. But that was beside the point. The kid didn’t want to be there. And that wasn’t anyone’s fault.

  Or even if it was partly the fault of Laurel and Ojiisan for those years of keeping Kai from his son and creating this unnatural tension…there wasn’t any point dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. Right?

  “It seems to me like you’re more concerned with what you want than what Kenji wants,” Ryo said.

  Kai had gone perfectly silent and perfectly still. When he turned, his face was bone white and his eyes were red and glowing. Okay, not literally red and glowing, but if Kai had been drawing himself for a manga—Blood Red Christmas—his eyes would surely have been red and glowing.

  “What?”

  Ryo said, “All I’m hearing is how disappointed you are. You’re not five years old, Kai. So next year, maybe he’ll be ready to spend Christmas Eve over here. And in the meantime you’ll have the day aft—”

  “Get out!” Kai had yelled. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

  Gee, it was practically like old times.

  Except… “It’s my house too,” Ryo had pointed out. Loudly. “So you get out.”

  “Fine! I’m going.”

  And he had. Stopping only to grab his car keys, he had flung out of the house and driven away into the rainy gray afternoon. Without so much as a jacket.

  “Good!” Ryo had yelled as the front door slammed shut.

  Peace and quiet at last.

  Ryo got a beer out of the fridge and made himself a sandwich. Maybe after lunch he’d have a nap. He would be working all night, and it would be wise to take advantage of this lull in the storm. But he couldn’t sleep. Every time he glanced at that giant Christmas tree sparkling and alight, the embodiment of all Kai’s anticipation and hopes over these past weeks, his heart felt heavy.

  He hated Kai being so hurt and disappointed, and maybe that was one reason he hadn’t been patient enough. He couldn’t fix this, and so he wanted it not to matter so much to Kai. He wanted him to be reasonable and wise. But Kai was not reasonable and wise. Well, sometimes. But he was also headstrong and impulsive and emotional.

  Kai did not call, and he was not home by the time Ryo had to leave for work.

  Ryo didn’t think he was in the wrong, but he did think he could have handled things better. Anyway, he hated quarrelling with Kai, and quarrelling during the holidays added a special level of awfulness to it. So he scrawled SORRY xoxo on a Post-it note and left it stuck to the fridge door.

  Raindrops hit the windshield. A silver Toyota splashed past Ryo and parked half a block up. The taillights went out.

  That would be Ellison, Ryo’s relief. He checked his watch. Nine thirty. Shift over. And not a peep out of his phone all night. He checked his messages to be sure. But no. Nothing. Not a word from Kai.

  He started the engine. He could always drop by his mom’s and spend Christmas morning there. If Kai wasn’t home…well, that was going to be pretty damned depressing. Or if Kai was there but still wanting to fight, that would be worse.

  For a few moments he sat watching the rain bouncing off the hood of his car, car engine idling; then he drove home.

  * * * * *

  Kai’s Tesla was in the garage, so Ryo knew he was back. That was a relief. More of a relief than he wanted to admit, in fact.

  The house was so quiet he thought Kai must still be sleeping. And that could either be a good sign or a bad sign. There were no lights on, no music. The Christmas tree was a dark form in the gloom.

  Ryo tiptoed through, heading for the bedroom, stopping only to plug in the Christmas tree lights. In the sudden dazzle of blue and red and green and gold, he was startled to spot Kai huddled on the sofa. Kai looked straight at him. His eyes were dark in his haggard face. He said nothing.

  “What is it?” Ryo went over to him, sitting down on the sofa, pulling Kai to him. He was thinking death and disaster at the least. Their earlier quarrel was forgotten.

  Kai shook his head, but he leaned into Ryo. He was not crying, but there was something so sad, so heartbroken in his silence, that tears would have been a comfort.

  “Tell me,” Ryo said softly.

  Kai moved his he
ad in negation again, but he said into Ryo’s chest, “If you’re not on my side, then I have no one.”

  “I’m always on your side. Always. You don’t want me to lie to you, do you?”

  He felt Kai swallow. Kai said in that same smothered voice, “I don’t know. No. Only sometimes.”

  Ryo smiled faintly.

  Kai said, “I do want what’s best for Kenji. But if I don’t push this—he’s my son. He doesn’t know me. I don’t know him.”

  “I know. But you can’t force it.” Ryo kissed the top of Kai’s head. He smelled like he had been out in the rain for a long time. He felt chilled. His own Ice Princess. But now he knew the ice was a thin and too-fragile shell. “I am always on your side. I guess the truth is, I can’t stand it when anyone hurts you. I didn’t want it to matter so much to you because there isn’t anything I can do about this situation.”

  “I don’t need you to do anything except…”

  “Except what?”

  “Be the one I matter to.”

  Ryo’s heart squeezed. “Kai-chan. You do matter. You matter more than anyone or anything.”

  And that was the truth. Ryo wasn’t even asking for it to be true in reverse. Because if that wasn’t what love was about—putting someone else first—what was it?

  He held Kai quietly, safely, in the soft prism of many-colored lights, and it was enough.

  The Classic Japanese Cocktail

  The funniest thing about this cocktail is it actually is not Japanese. It was invented by Jerry Thomas and appeared in his 1862 bartending guide How to Mix Drinks, or the Bon-Vivant’s Companion. The recipe has changed a bit over time. I liked the idea of Kai—who is a hybrid in every way—having a favorite drink that’s also not exactly what it appears to be.

  Ingredients

  2 ounces Cognac

  ½ ounce orgeat

  ½ ounce fresh lime juice

  Dash of Angostura bitters

  Lime peel or lemon peel for garnish

  Directions

  Pour the ingredients into a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Shake it up. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with lime or lemon peel.

  Makes one cocktail.

  THE ADRIEN ENGLISH MYSTERIES: Jake Riordan

  (This coda takes place one year after The Hell You Say.)

  Baby, I’ve been here before

  I know this room, I’ve walked this floor

  I used to live alone before I knew you.

  Yeah, once upon a time. Halle-fucking-lujah.

  The first time he’d heard that song it had been in that very building. Cloak and Dagger Books. It had been around this time of year. Not quite this late in the season. The song was on a Christmas album that Adrien had played a lot. Rufus Wainwright. Jake had never heard of Rufus Wainwright before then. Never heard the song “Hallelujah.” Now it seemed to be on every time he turned on the radio.

  What the hell did it even mean?

  And remember when I moved in you

  The holy dove was moving too

  And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

  Such a weird song. Such a weird time in his life.

  It was all over now. Over and done. And he did not believe in wasting time on regrets over the things that could not be changed.

  Should not be changed.

  But here he sat in his car, watching the dark and silent building across the street.

  Sometimes it seemed like a dream, those months. Ten months. Not even a year. How could the most important relationship of his life have been the briefest?

  But that’s how it felt sometimes. And that’s what he would tell Adrien if he had the chance. If Adrien came home alone tonight, Jake would get out of his car, cross the street, and try to tell him…something. It was Christmas Eve after all, and if there was ever a night for holding out an olive branch—for asking forgiveness—this was the night.

  That’s all he wanted.

  That’s all he’d ever wanted those other nights he’d parked here. Waiting for the right moment. Trying to get the nerve up.

  Maybe there’s a God above

  But all I’ve ever learned from love

  Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you

  You could refuse to take a phone call, but it was a lot harder to turn away from someone standing in front of you. Too hard for someone as softhearted as Adrien. No, Adrien wouldn’t turn him away. Not on Christmas Eve.

  But he wasn’t coming back tonight.

  It was past midnight now. The windows above the bookstore remained dark. The surrounding streets were silent and empty.

  Adrien would be at the Dautens’. Or at Snowden’s. He’d be with people who loved him. Which was where he belonged. It was where everyone belonged on Christmas Eve.

  And Jake…had spent too long sitting here already. He could not afford to arouse suspicion. He did not want to have to lie. Okay, compound the lie. He turned the key in the ignition.

  Still, engine idling, exhaust turning red in the taillights, he waited a few minutes longer.

  The stars above the city lights twinkled with cheerful indifference, blazing that cold and broken hallelujah.

  THE DARK TIDE: Jake and Adrien

  “You were laughing in your sleep last night.” Jake’s eyes met mine in the mirror over the sink. He was taking his turn shaving in the small hotel bathroom.

  “I was?”

  His cheek creased, and the electric razor accommodated the sudden curves in his still half-bristly face.

  “Good to know I’m having a good time,” I said.

  His brows drew together, and he flicked off the razor. He turned to face me. “Aren’t you having a good time?”

  “Yes!” I don’t know who was more surprised at my previous comment. Me or Jake. “Yeah. I’m sure as hell having a better Christmas than the last three years.”

  “But?” I had his full and thoughtful consideration. Which still caught me off guard sometimes. Jake paid attention to details. No question. Which could occasionally be dismaying when you were used to—and even enjoyed—flying under the radar.

  “Are you having a good time?” I asked.

  “Yes. I am.” He said it without hesitation. “We’re both here, and we’re both healthy. It’s our first Christmas together. I’ve never been happier. That’s the truth.”

  Yes. I could see in his face that it was the truth.

  “You don’t mind the fact that every minute of this trip is preprogrammed—that our first Christmas is being spent running from one end of London to the next?”

  He lifted a negligent shoulder.

  “Or that the rare times we’re alone, my cell phone rings? Or someone knocks on the door?”

  His mouth twitched.

  I felt obliged to point out, “We’re having our Christmas dinner in a restaurant.”

  “I’ve had my Christmas dinner in worse places. I’ve had years I didn’t get a Christmas dinner.”

  I sighed.

  He reached out, unhurriedly pulling me into his arms. He didn’t kiss me, though. He studied me, and I studied him. Jake asked, “Are you fretting over the bookstore?”

  “No.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I amended, “Well, mostly no. I do hope it’s still standing, but I guess we’d have heard if it wasn’t. No, mostly I just…wish we were home. I’d have liked our first Christmas to have been a little less busy. Less crowded. We’re not even moved in yet. You’ve got this very small window of free time, and we’re using it up here. I guess in a perfect world—”

  Jake interrupted quietly, “Let’s go home.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve convinced me. Let’s leave early. Let’s do the Christmas thing with your family this afternoon, and then tomorrow let’s see about grabbing an early flight home.”

  My heart leapt at the idea. But…

  I said uncertainly, “I… How can we?”

  “Your mother didn’t think you’d agree to come at all. She got you here fo
r Christmas. I don’t think she’s going to kick up too much of a fuss if we check out early.”

  He was right. Lisa had been as startled as anyone when in a moment of weakness I’d agreed to her plan for a family holiday abroad. I think I’d partly done it because I hoped the change of scenery would help distract Jake from his own family’s struggle to accept his coming out. There’s nothing like Midnight Mass at St. Paul’s to put things into perspective. Provided you don’t mind looking at the world through binoculars. Or possibly opera glasses.

  Anyway, Christmas in London with all the trimmings had sounded good in theory—and a lot of it had even been good in practice—but the thing I wanted most for Christmas was to…well, it would sound schmaltzy to say it aloud, but through the years there had been a few dreams—no, dream was too strong, but there had been some wistful imaginings about spending this holiday of all holidays with Jake. Suffice it to say figgy pudding had not played a big role in the proceedings.

  But the fact that there even were proceedings…that might explain why I had been laughing in my sleep. Joy. It wasn’t just for Christmas anymore.

  I smiled up at Jake. His heart was thumping steadily against my own. It occurred to me that he was a comfortable place to lean—not that I had ever wanted to lean on anyone, and I didn’t plan on making a habit of it, but for these peaceful moments…

  “Let’s go home,” Jake repeated.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go home.”

  His mouth touched mine. Sweet and warm and tasting a little bit of preshave lotion. I broke the kiss to laugh.

  Jake looked surprised.

  “Best part of this,” I said.

  He raised his brows.

  “Lisa will totally blame you.”

  THE ADRIEN ENGLISH MYSTERIES: Adrien and Jake