They took turns playing host to each other at night. Dave compromised his running on the mornings that they slept up in the Eyrie by sleeping in an extra hour, although they usually got quite a bit of exercise before arising. Dave talked Joe in to running with him on the mornings that Joe stayed at his place.

One morning, four weeks into their new relationship, they'd jogged downtown and back and had slowed down as they cooled off when they entered Dave's neighborhood. They were laughing and horsing around, playing grab-ass like a couple of kids as they walked up the street towards Dave's house. They hadn't been paying attention to their surroundings and didn't notice the big black Rolls Royce parked in front of the house, nor the plump old woman dressed in stark black, standing on the porch. When Dave whispered something smart-assed and intimate to Joe, Joe grabbed him around the neck and planted a big sloppy kiss on his cheek. A strident shrill voice screeched out, "David Gates!" shattering the early Sunday morning stillness. Dave hastily pulled away from Joe and gawked at the one person he thought he'd never see again. It was Mrs. Way, Bill's mother.

Joe froze as though he had looked upon the Medusa when her eyes locked on him in a flinty stare. Even from where he stood, he could smell the cloying sickly-sweet pervasive perfume she'd apparently bathed in. In all his life he had never confronted an apparition like her. She reminded Joe of a fat old jowly Thanksgiving turkey with her saggy-skinned arms folded under her over-ample bosom, or a crow with her sparse dyed black hair pulled back into a severe bun at the base of her skull, accenting her sharp beak of a nose that looked out of place on her dumpling-cheeked face. She was definitely a grim old witch with her stern frown. He couldn't believe the way she was screeching at Dave. Her harsh cacophonous voice sent cold chills down his spine. She looked like something out of a horror film. Joe was amazed that Dave didn't just turn and flee from her; she was that daunting to him.

Although Dave attempted to show her respect for being the mother of his deceased lover, he certainly had no love for the woman. Through all the years he and Bill had been together, Bill had kept him away from her, until his father's funeral. Bill had wanted to go alone, but Dave had insisted on going with him to give him his love and support. He'd nearly regretted it later after the casket had been lowered into the ground. Mrs. Way had first turned her vituperative hatred on Bill's father's life-long mistress, after that she had attacked Bill, and then him. Dave had turned, ready to high-tail it out of the cemetery to get away from the hate-filled harridan, but Bill had begged him not to let her chase him away; and had held his ground with her. And then at Bill's funeral, a few years later, she had attacked Dave again, and ended up haranguing all their friends, too.

Even though Dave knew she had no power over him....her hatred was daunting. He felt a great fear of the old hag, but he wasn't going to let Joe see that he was afraid of an old woman. Since Bill was no longer here to shield him; he had to find the courage on his own to stand up to the ancient harridan.

"I was right," she screeched at him. "I told you at Billy's funeral that you are a wanton whore. Billy is barely in his grave and you are already out playing around on him. Have you no respect for the dead?" Dave found it strange that now that Bill was gone she called him Billy, while when he lived it had always been Will.

While she continued to screech her hatred at him, he strode across the lawn and stopped at the bottom of the steps and glared up at the daunting old crow who was blocking his way onto the porch. "Bill has been dead for over two years now, Mrs. Way."

"My late consort has been dead for forty years and I am still in mourning for him." She was imperious in her pronouncement.

Joe wondered where in the South that drawling accent came from. Listening to her speak, her stilted antiquated speech pattern made him feel like he had been transported into a badly acted, early talking movie.

Dave looked up at her, wondering what she was talking about, he had attended William Way's funeral with Bill about eight years ago. He thought the woman must be losing her marbles. "It is your choice to waste your life in that manner, Mrs. Way," he said as he stepped off the walk, grabbed the post on the corner of the porch and swung himself up onto it. "Although, I don't know why you would mourn the man you despised." Now at eye level, where she wasn't hovering above him, the old harpy wasn't so daunting. "Bill told me, more than once, Mrs. Way, that he did not want me to throw my life away mourning his passing. He wanted me to continue living and to find someone to share my life with. He didn't want me to become, in his own words, a bitter old crone like you."

Her hard flinty eyes crackled with hatred. She ignored his insult and attacked again. "It's shameful the way you have already forgotten him, and after all he did for you."

"I'll never forget him, and I did as much for him, Mrs. Way. I loved him."

"Hmpf." She replied, almost flouncing in her disgust.

"Have you visited his grave even once, Mrs. Way?" Dave asked. "I have never seen any flowers on his grave accept the ones I've placed there. I have visited his grave weekly. That's over a hundred times, Mrs. Way. How many times have you been to his grave?"

If a stare could kill, Dave was sure he'd be a crisply fried corpse.

"I did not contest Billy's will out of respect for my son. I now regret that I did not. You do not deserve anything he left you."

"You didn't contest the will, Mrs. Way, because your lawyers told you there was no way you could win. Even though you have more money than God, Bill knew you would try. He made sure that his will was airtight, just as his dad did with his will. There has never been a way for you to touch Bill's inheritance."

"I'll figure some way to get you yet, you nancy boy." She stomped down the three steps, turned and shook her fist at him. "You made my son queer. I'll never forgive you for taking my one chance for grandchildren from me."

"The grandchildren you never had are very fortunate that they didn't have to know you, Mrs. Way. Now go back to that big empty mansion and leave me alone. You might also keep in mind, Mrs. Way, that you are living in my house. Bill had hoped I would toss you out on your ear. Since you are Bill's mother, I won't do that. You may live there until you die."

"Hmpf." She turned a bone-chilling stare on him, then flounced toward her car. She screeched, "Jeffery, the door."

The skinny chauffeur who'd been lounging against the front fender of the big black Rolls Royce jumped and ran to open her door. Dave again felt her frigid hateful glare before she climbed into the car, and after it hid her from view with its darkened windows he could still feel it. Jeffery smirked at Dave as he slithered back around the car. Dave ignored him, walked down the steps and held out his hand to Joe who was still frozen on the spot.

"Come on, let's go shower. We have things to do today."

Joe trotted across the lawn, ignoring Dave's hand as he stared at the departing black car.

"Wow, what a harridan. That was really Bill's mother?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"So what was that all about? I mean, why would she care what you do at this point?"

"I suppose she hasn't anything else to occupy her time," Dave said as they entered his home.

As they pulled off their shoes and shucked off their shorts and jock straps Joe kept eyeing Dave, waiting to hear more. Dave sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought, unaware that Joe was full of curiosity. He sighed. Joe sat down beside him, and took his hand in both of his. "Is it that bad?"

Dave looked up into Joe's golden eyes and forgot the question. Once again, he silently thought, 'How lucky I am to be loved by this man.'

Joe smiled, seeing the almost tangible love in Dave's eyes. "Dave, I heard a lot today that you haven't told me about."

Dave looked up at him still lost in his thoughts.

"I thought I was hooking up with a lowly shop keeper. From what I heard a while ago you are anything but," Joe said. "Isn't having a fortune and living like you do rather eccentric?"

The word eccentric, brought Dave back to the present. "I'm as normal as you," he protested, then grinned. "Let me take that back. A normal guy wouldn't go around designing and building award winning towers just because he got a whim, now would he?" He sighed, and stared at the sweaty sock in his hand. "Yeah, Joe, I've got millions. I forget about it most of the time. I don't need it. I didn't want it, but Bill insisted that it go to me rather than his mother. God knows she doesn't need it. I don't need it either. I'm happy the way I live."

Joe bucked his head in a nod of acceptance. He didn't understand it, but then he had always had the money to do what he wanted. Coming from an affluent family, he lived in the standard in which he had been raised. He viewed wealth as something to use for his enjoyment as well as his loved ones. Dave obviously came from a middle-class working family. He, too, lived in the standard in which he had been raised. He viewed money as something to be frugal with, something to be saved for that rainy day. Joe let it pass. He figured there would be time enough to show Dave how to enjoy his money.

As the days and weeks passed, the two men continued trading off where they slept each night. Dave seemed to be accumulating more and more clothes in Joe's penthouse, while Joe always took his clothes with him when he left Dave's each morning. While Joe had been aware of this from the beginning, it had taken Dave awhile to realize it. When he did, he felt hurt that Joe continued to be just a guest in his home, while he had just made himself at home at Joe's. As he considered it, he wondered if he had over stepped some unspoken bounds. His thoughts were filled with maybes. 'Maybe Joe isn't yet comfortable in our relationship. He lives in one of the most expensive locations in the city. Maybe he isn't comfortable living in a middle class home like mine. Maybe I should step back and give him space. I wonder if he is even aware of this clothes thing? Well, I guess the thing to do is remove my clothes and not push.' As he sat at his desk in his office at the bookstore mulling this over, he decided to remove his clothes from Joe's condo and stop being so presumptuous. It was the middle of the afternoon; Joe wouldn't be home for at least four hours. He walked home, got his big old Buick and drove to the Tower where he parked under the portico and walked up to the desk. Tim had just come on duty. He smiled at Dave. "Good afternoon, Mr. Gates."

Dave smiled and shook his head at Tim's insistence on using his surname. Since the day that he met him, he'd insisted that the lovable young man call him Dave. He'd always addressed Tim by his first name, but this time he made a point of reading Tim's last name off of his badge, "Hi, Mr. McFadden, I've been leaving my clothes here. I need to gather them up and take them back home. I'm going to have to start coming over here to dress if I don't."

"No problem, Sir, go right on up." Dave arched an eyebrow at Tim who grinned, enjoying this little game with one of his favorite people. From the controls at the desk, Tim opened the elevator for him.

Dave ascended to the penthouse. He hadn't actually realized that he had accumulated so much clothing here. He went to the kitchen for a grocery bag which he filled with socks and underwear. With the handles of the bag over his arm he hugged all of the hanging clothes to his chest and heaved them off the hanging bar. He managed to open the elevator and get in. He wondered how he was going to punch the right button to descend to the lobby. Suddenly he felt the elevator cage dropping. He looked up at the camera and smiled his appreciation at Tim, then as he walked across the lobby to the door, he said, "Thank you kindly, Mr. McFadden."

"Any time, Sir," Tim grinned.

Dave grimaced at him.

As Dave approached his car, he had no idea of how he was going to get the trunk open with out dropping everything. Tim realized the problem, and ran to give him a hand. He took the load from Dave, allowing him to fish the keys out of his pocket. Dave opened the trunk and told Tim to just drop the load into it.

"Thanks, Tim. I don't know what I would have done."

"No problem, Dave." He grinned. "Glad to be of service."

Dave raised an eyebrow in a rye response.

He closed the trunk lid and turned to get in the car. Tim stood there looking sheepish, his hands stuffed in his back pockets. Dave got the feeling that he wanted to say something, but seemed uncomfortable about it. Dave opened the car door and then turned to again thank the young man. Tim's forehead was furrowed as he quickly glanced at Dave and then looked away. "What is it Tim? Is there something you want to say?" Dave asked.

"Yes, Sir." Tim cleared his throat and watched his toe as he kicked the pavement with one of his boots. He glanced up at Dave. "I was just wondering if this," he nodded at the trunk, "means that you won't be returning."

Dave laughed. "Oh, I'll be coming back, Tim. Don't worry your head about that."

Tim grinned and let out a husky sigh. "I'm glad to hear it. If I may say so, it's been nice to see Mr. Paolini so happy lately."

Dave blushed from the unrecognized reality that was apparently obvious to Tim; he and Joe were in love.

Tim grimaced. "I apologize, I didn't mean to embarrass you. It's just that Mr. Paolini has always been so introverted until he met you. He's such a nice man. I'd hate to see him sad again."

Dave having gotten over his embarrassment, patted Tim on the shoulder and said, "Well, Tim, I promise to do my best to keep Joe smiling."

After Dave left Tim sat back behind the reception Desk and opened his History text. He stared at the page wondering how Mr. Paolini was going to feel when he discovered that Dave had removed all of his clothes from his closet. He could just imagine him finding the closet empty and thinking Dave had abandoned him. Maybe he should tell him and assure him that Dave would be back. But as circumstances would have it; Tim was helping old Mrs. Yorkland get her groceries into one of the lower floor elevators when Joe entered the lobby. Not seeing Tim, he simply used his card key to open the elevator himself.

With Tim not being behind the desk where he could watch the monitor, he had complete privacy, so Joe started stripping his work clothes off as soon as the elevator door closed. He stepped into the foyer with them draped over his arm, his boots in his hand. He headed directly into the bedroom, dropped the clothes on a chair, and went into the bathroom. This was Dave's turn to spend the night in the Eyrie with him. Joe planned on making it special. He hummed a happy tune as he turned the water on in the shower, and adjusted the temperature.

As he started to step in, he stopped. His subconscious mind had caught that there was something not right in the bedroom. He turned and walked back into the room and studied it. He noted the top drawer of the dresser was only half closed, and the closet door was wide open. He glanced into the closet. The side he had allocated to Dave was empty. He hurried across the room and looked into the opened drawer. Dave's things were gone. With his mind in a quandary, he sat down on the edge of the bed. What did this mean? Ice gripped his heart. Dave had moved out without even saying a word. Why would he do that? This morning they had parted like every other morning since they had met, promising to see each other come evening. And yet.... Dave had moved out without with a word.

Thinking that he may have left a note, Joe looked around the room, but didn't see one. He wandered into the living room and then into the kitchen, still finding no note. His eyes blurred. Hugging his arms to his chest, he collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. He wasn't even worth leaving a note for, just as he hadn't been worth Eric's fidelity. The pain was too much; he blanked his mind. He crawled into the inner most depths of his being, curled up and hid from the pain. His world had crashed. Joe stood and wandered aimlessly from room to room and ended up standing at the parapet staring out towards Dave's house.

When Dave stepped out of the elevator into the foyer, he instantly felt that something was wrong. It was too quiet. And then he dismissed the feeling as being apprehensive over Joe's reaction to his moving his clothes back home. He went into the bedroom. Joe's clothes were laying across a chair. Hearing the water running in the shower, he sighed with relief. He called out to Joe as he peeked into the bathroom and discovered the shower door standing open. He gulped and turned off the water. Back in the bedroom, he noted that the drawer he had been using was hanging open and the closet door, which he knew he had left open, was closed. He had a dreadful feeling that he should have talked to Joe first. He wandered into the livingroom. Not seeing Joe anywhere, he went out onto the rooftop garden. Joe was standing at the parapet looking out over the city. Dave stopped a moment to stare at this beautiful naked man who had claimed him as his own.

"Joe?" There was no response from him. "Joe?" he called out again.

Joe turned and propped his elbows on the top of the wall. As he looked at Dave, flashes of Eric lying on his back with his feet in the air as that grinning stranger fucked him blurred his vision. He shook his head and reprimanded himself. 'This is Dave, not Eric.' He closed his eyes and looked at Dave again. "I thought you had left me."

"Joe, I'll never leave you." Dave walked up to him, and caressed the side of his face.

Joe wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into his chest. With Dave back in his arms the tension he'd been feeling sloughed away. But he still didn't understand why Dave had removed his clothes. "Your clothes are gone." It was a flat statement of fact.

Dave had an urge to accuse Joe of not being fully committed to their relationship, and the fact that he never left any clothes at Dave's was proof, but he held his tongue, and simply answered, "Yes." He searched Joe's face for what he was feeling---thinking, but all he could find was confusion.

"Why?" Joe leaned back to better see Dave.

Dave realized that he needed to make this about himself rather than putting Joe in the hot seat. "I realized this morning that you never leave an article of clothing at my house, and I had a closet full here. So, I figured I must have over stepped the bounds of our relationship, and I removed them. That's all."

"Why would you think that?" Joe asked, pushing back further.

Dave held onto him as he pictured the streamlined minimalist look of Joe's bedroom, and then pictured his own....plus the big difference between his small in-the-wall closet and Joe's large walk-in closet that was at least half the size of Dave's whole bedroom. The inequity in their lifestyles was so drastic. Dave figured he knew the answer--- that Joe was uncomfortable with the small overstuffed feeling of Dave's bedroom. To confirm it he asked, "Why have you never left any clothing in my home?"

Joe was quiet for a moment as he thought. "I never even thought about it. It's just the way I was raised, I guess. My mom was very strict with me about leaving my clothes laying around." He gathered Dave back against his chest.

"Oh." Dave was nonplussed. After mulling it over a moment he said, "I guess I was reading things into it that weren't true."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, Joe. My assumption was apparently wrong."

Joe dropped his arms to his side. "What were you assuming?"

Dave stepped back, embarrassed. He turned away. Joe grabbed his arm and turned him back to face him.

"Don't close me out, Dave. Talk to me."

Dave wouldn't meet Joe's eyes. The difference in their homes was just a small part of it. Dave mentally sighed and decided that it was now or never if they were ever going to have a completely secure relationship. "I just get the feeling that you don't feel totally secure in this relationship. Our life styles are so different. You live in this luxurious Penthouse and I live in a fifty year old house in a middle-class neighborhood. The clothes were just a bit of it. I keep getting the feeling that you are holding back. That you aren't ready to commit to this--- to us as a couple. I didn't want to pressure you, so I took my clothes back home."

"I see." Joe was quiet for a bit as he analyzed the situation, then he said, "The tide has turned; it's you that now waits for me."

"What do you mean, Joe?" He looked into Joe's face.

It was Joe's turn to look away. "You're right, Dave. I do hold back." He felt ashamed that something from his past could have such a negative influence on how he related to Dave.

"Why, Joe? I've committed myself completely to you. You are the center of my universe. You have been since the day you went with me to visit Bill's grave. What are you afraid of?"

Joe turned to stare back out over the city. "I haven't told you about Eric."

"Eric?" Dave started backing away. Fear gripped at him. Was Joe choosing another man over him after everything he'd said? Had he lied? "There's another man in your life? God, where would you find the time? You're always with me."

"Dave, stop it. Eric is dead."

"What? I don't understand." It took him a few moments to clear the wild imaginings from his mind.

"Let's get dressed and I'll tell you over dinner."

Joe postponed the shower he'd started to take earlier. Dave kept looking at him apprehensively as he dressed. They went directly to the garage and got into the little red Ferrari that Joe had brought back from Italy. Joe ignored Dave's nervous glances, which only made Dave more nervous. He drove the few blocks to Gio Gio's like he was demon-chased. He stalked into the restaurant, leaving Dave to follow. He nodded at Gio and ignored the room full of diners as he went directly to his table at the back of the room. Dave smiled and greeted Gio, giving him a hug before following Joe. When Gio inquired as to what was wrong, Dave shrugged and half-smiled.

Instead of sitting next to Joe as he usually did Dave sat across from him where he could look directly at him. Joe scowled, but didn't say anything. A waiter came over with a carafe of Gio's imported Chianti and two glasses. Joe picked up the carafe and filled the glasses. He handed one to Dave and then he tossed back his glass of wine as though it were a shot of hard liquor. He refilled it and looked at Dave. "I'm sorry."

"I assume you're going to tell me whatever it is you have to be sorry about."

Joe nodded. He continued to stare at Dave. Dave held his gaze waiting for him to speak.

"Right after I finished my Master's, I met Eric. He was a Sophomore here at U. I fell head over heels in love with him. I thought that it was the same with him. He met my passion with just as much or more of his own. I thought I had truly found the love of my life."

He continued through the whole sordid tale leaving out no detail.

"I felt like my heart had been ripped out. I felt that he had killed my soul. I kept seeing him everywhere around campus. I would run from him every time. I could not speak to the abomination. When he called, I hung up without saying a word to him. He persisted. I finally fled to Italy. I stayed six months with Gio's family then found a small apartment near them. I enrolled in the University of Milan and studied architectural design. I never told anyone but Gio about why I was there. I just let them assume I was broken-hearted over a woman. It was during this time that Gio came out to me and asked to come to America with me when I returned.

"I returned only after Eric was killed. He'd picked up a trick that beat and raped him, and then mutilated him. The man stole his car, TV and a few other things. He was stopped for reckless driving. The police discovered Eric in the car's trunk, lying in a puddle of his own blood, barely alive. His cock and balls were gone. They were supposedly never found. He died later in the hospital. I couldn't really feel sorry for him……he had asked for it. However, no one deserves that kind of death."

Joe cleared his throat and continued, "Anyway, the day I walked out of the bedroom after discovering Eric's infidelity, I lost my sex drive. I was scared shitless that I possibly had contracted some kind of STD, if not AIDS. I was tested monthly for a year. I was clean, thank God. Still I never engaged in sex with another man until I took you home with me the night we met. I would go out and meet men, spend the evening with them, but never go to bed with them. But that got boring after awhile, so I even stopped that."

Joe paused and drank another full glass of wine. He concentrated on refilling his glass and then Dave's. Gio had watched from across the room and had kept the waiter from interrupting. He knew that Joe was finally telling Dave about what had hurt him so badly that he had fled to Italy. When he saw that the carafe was empty, he sent another to the table. Dave realized what Gio was doing and smiled at him. Gio smiled back and nodded.

"When I came back to the U.S., I threw myself into designing the Tower. I never thought of receiving any kind of recognition for it. I was taken totally by surprise with the awards it garnered. I had done it only to keep my mind busy. It was also at this time that I rediscovered your bookstore and you. I dreamed about finding a man like you. I watched how you and Bill loved and cared for each other. For a while I even stalked you, but always from a distance. I realized that I was obsessing over you. I stopped. I continued to go into the bookstore but, I never got closer to you than the length of one of the aisles. Bill caught me by surprise one day in the coffee shop. I was sitting there reading when he invited himself to sit with me and chat. After that, I looked forward to our little chats. They were always friendly, but impersonal, but I felt it was a way of being close to you."

While Joe talked he'd moved his hand across the table and covered Dave's.

"Joe, I've been aware for years that you were near. I fantasized about what you looked like under that beard you wore, and your golden eyes. If it hadn't been for your eyes I would never have gone home with you that first night, you know. Funny how Bill and I argued over the color of your eyes. I guess I'm the only one that had ever seen them change color."

"You are, Dave."

"I now understand why you held back. I promise you, Joe, I will never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I will always be true and faithful to you."

"I know that, Dave. At least in my heart I know that. My brain is a little slow. You know, once burned? Please be patient with me. I'll get there eventually."

"I know you will. And you know I will always be there for you."

"Dave, I want your clothes back in my closet. As a matter of fact, I want you permanently in my home. Our home?"

Dave's heart leaped. 'Yes, yes, yes!' He mentally screamed, but calmly replied, "I've only been waiting for you to ask, Joe."

"Then you will move into the Eyrie with me."

Dave could see the eager anticipation in Joe's golden eyes. He gulped. This was a big....no, it was a huge step. 'Am I ready for this?' he asked himself and instantly replied, 'Of course I am.' He grinned at Joe. "Yes," was all he could manage to say.

Joe grinned back at him and turned to look for his cousin. Gio saw his expression and grinned in return. He moved over to their table.

"Gio, let's celebrate. Dave is moving in with me. We're going to live together."

He stood up and Gio gave him a hearty hug. Gio then turned to Dave and hugged him. "Congratulations, you two, you deserve each other. I am so happy for you. Come back into my office, there's something I want to give you."

The two men looked at him in surprise and followed him through the kitchen into his office.

"What is it you want to give us, Gio?" Joe asked noticing a small table set up with service for two.

"Privacy," Gio answered. "Your dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes." He grinned, and stepped out of the room, closing the door.