A Face without a Heart by Rick R. Reed

Author:Rick R. Reed [Reed, Rick R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBTQIA+, photographer, drag queen, dancer, addiction, drug use, dark, suspense
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2020-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

LIAM

It was getting close to Christmas. I had been too busy to think about the holidays, which was just as well. Although I had scores of “friends” from my business, which resulted in my mailbox overflowing with party invitations, there weren’t really that many people who could make the holiday special. Having a gallery show and two major corporate jobs—a brochure for an Internet provider and the annual report for a Fortune 500 food products company—kept me going all day long, until I collapsed into bed. I hadn’t been able to give much thought to Gary Adrion and, truth be told, hadn’t laid eyes on the young man in several months. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t heard about him.

Henrietta had called earlier in the afternoon. “Is this Liam Howard?” she asked, and I wondered what was coming.

“You know it is, Henrietta.”

“So you are still breathing?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Henrietta. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch, but things have just been ridiculously hectic. They always are this time of year.”

“Yes, old Liam’s making piles of money, I’m sure. But he’s being shortchanged in the time department. In the end, I wonder which he’ll think is more valuable.”

“Did you call for a reason? Or are you about to launch into a lecture about how I should get out more? Perhaps tell me that my work will, in the end, amount to nothing?”

Henrietta tittered. “I just wanted to see if I could have the pleasure of His Excellency’s company for an hour or two. A cup of coffee and two girls gossiping.”

“Oh, Henrietta.” From the day I met her, I had a love-hate relationship with the camp behavior. It both charmed and repelled. Right now, it repelled.

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

I glanced at my calendar and saw that I would be free after six. “How about six o’clock?”

“Nervous Center?”

“Fine.”

*

By six o’clock that night, the snow was coming down heavily, traffic was in a snarl, and the winds were whistling down alleys and over the tops of buildings, throwing needles of frozen precipitation into the faces of those unlucky enough to be outside.

Henrietta was already at the Nervous Center, seated on an old gray flannel couch near the back. She had dressed down, remarkably, wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Of course, there were some concessions to glamour, as she might have called it. A gold pendant around her neck, big gold hoops in her ears, and a pair of totally inappropriate black high heels.

“What are you doing wearing those shoes? You’ll break your neck.”

“And hello to you, too, stranger. Gee, I’ve been missing you as well.” Henrietta rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I shrugged out of coat, hat, and muffler. I leaned over and pecked her on the cheek, grabbed her hand, and looked into her golden eyes. “I have missed talking to you. I’ve pretty much been working from morning until I go to bed at night.”

“So I should feel lucky to have the honor of an audience.

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