Buried Passions Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  More from Andrew Grey

  Readers love Andrew Grey

  About the Author

  By Andrew Grey

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Buried Passions

  By Andrew Grey

  When Broadway actor Jonah receives word that his uncle has passed away and named him the heir to a property in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, Jonah’s plan is to settle the estate as quickly as possible and return to his life in New York City. Much to Jonah’s surprise, the inheritance includes the Ashford Cemetery—and its hunky groundskeeper, recent Bosnian immigrant Luka Pavelka.

  Jonah soon discovers Luka is more than easy on the eyes. He sees into Jonah’s heart like no man ever before, and his job at the cemetery is all he has. If Jonah sells, Luka is left with nothing. Luka is there for Jonah when Jonah needs someone most, and there’s no denying the chemistry and connection between them. But Jonah has a successful career back in New York. Now he must decide if it’s still the life he wants….

  This story is for so many people. Elizabeth and Lynn from Dreamspinner. Karen Rose and Kate Douglas, you are both an inspiration. And to Misty Simon, for all the years of friendship and the humor that always makes me smile.

  Chapter 1

  MY LIFE was going to shit, and then I stepped in it.

  “Crap!” I wrinkled my nose, swearing at everyone who didn’t bother to pick up after their dog. Thankfully there was a small patch of grass where a tree once graced the sidewalk. I walked over and scraped my shoes clean, recoiling at the stench once more. “God, I hope there’s a special place in hell for people who can’t clean it up.”

  The Tuesday morning mob of sidewalk commuters flowed around me as I reached into my bag, found a napkin from Starbucks, and used it to get off the last of the mess. A toss into the nearest trash bin and I was on my way again. I hitched my bag up on my shoulder and strode down Seventh Avenue, making my way to Forty-Seventh, where I turned right to head for the theater.

  “Shit,” I breathed as I reached the doors, passing workmen on ladders at the marquis, making changes. Could this day get any worse? I went inside to find the bereft looks of the rest of the cast. “What happened?”

  “Apparently we’re playing out the next two weeks and closing,” Louise said as she dabbed the corners of her eyes.

  “But I thought ticket sales were up? And the theater has been full.” I set my bag down on a seat and slouched into the one next to it. “Things were dicey for a while, but we did all that publicity and it seemed to be working.”

  Louise shrugged, and I knew she was right. That was the theater business—you worked your ass off and then the show closed around you. Not everything was a huge smash and ran for years, like the damned show across the street that had been playing for almost thirty.

  “It seems the seats were filled with half-price tickets, and no show can survive on that for long. I guess the producers decided to call it quits while they were ahead, rather than trying to beat the dead horse.” Louise sat back, pulled out her phone, and her fingers flew wildly over the screen.

  I didn’t need to be told what she was doing. Hell, I should have been on the phone to my agent as well, to try to line up another job. But my heart wasn’t in it right now. The thought of yet another audition, one more cattle call, filled me with dread. I had a résumé of four shows, including great supporting characters, and even took over a leading role for a month and got praised for it. I couldn’t help feeling let down by all this.

  “Jonah.”

  Feeling resigned, I sighed, stood, and walked to where the meetings were being held. “Morning, Peter, Duncan,” I said, with the best smile I could muster, to the producers of our now lame-duck show, who sat in the small theater office.

  “We want you to know that we’re thrilled with the job you did for us,” Duncan began. “A show closing is always hard for everyone involved, but we were coming to the end of the run anyway. We want you to know that we recognize how you stepped up at every turn.” He smiled and looked at Peter, who nodded. “We will definitely think of you for projects in the future. Don’t doubt that.”

  “Thank you.” What the fuck else was I going to say? I wanted to fucking scream that they shouldn’t give up so easily, but I had no power, and if I wanted to work in this town again, I needed the goodwill of as many people as possible. “We’ve still got two weeks, and we need to give those ticket holders the best show we can.”

  “Well, the show is only running for two more performance days. Peter and I thought it was fair to give the cast members two weeks’ notice. You’re professionals, and so are we.” Duncan stood, rising to his full, near-gigantic height. He had to be six foot seven and loomed over everyone. It was a good thing he had a great smile and wasn’t one of those guys who got angry often.

  I tried not to blanch at the thought of unemployment. Two days and I was out of a job. At least I had the pay for a few weeks. “That’s very considerate of you.” Again, what the fuck else was I supposed to say? I’d just been chucked into the unemployment line. I knew I should be grateful for the fact that I’d been working steadily for the last two years, moving up to better and more challenging roles. I should have known it wasn’t going to last. I stood, shook both their hands, and escaped the office before I could open my smart mouth and say something completely stupid.

  Cut your losses, don’t burn bridges… blah, blah, blah.

  As soon as I left the office, I sighed and went to do what I should have done earlier: message Payton about the closing. I walked back to my dressing room and shut the door. After I sent a quick message to my agent, I made a call.

  “The show is closing,” I said as soon as Greg answered the phone.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his put-upon tone setting my back on edge. “I suppose this is a bad time, but I can’t deal with things here anymore.”

  My mouth hung open. My show had just closed and now my boyfriend…? “What the hell?”

  “Look, none of this is your fault. It’s me. I’m not happy here in New York, and moving here was a huge mistake. Things here are too hard, and I’m tired of waiting tables, waiting for some big modeling break that’s never going to happen. I’m going back to Omaha.”

  “You’re leaving me… over the phone? Can we at least talk about this?” A black hole was opening near me, threatening to pull me in and swallow me up.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” Greg was so full of platitudes today. This breakup sounded like some bad sitcom dialog. “I have my plane ticket for three this afternoon. My stuff is packed and I’m going.”

  “Jesus….” Heartless bastard!

  “Don’t worry, I’m not taking anything of yours or anything. I just think it’s better that I go, now that I’ve decided. And it’s easier this way, without any long goodbyes.”

  Or me kicking your ass from here to the airport for being such a heartless little shit.

  “You’re a nice guy and I’m going to miss you, but I’ve got to do what’s right for me, and New York just isn’t it.”

  The line went dead, and I stared at my phone. Then my door swung open.

  “Lost your best friend?” Chet asked and then laughed. “Not possible, since I’m right here.” He laughed again, throwing an arm around my neck.

  “Can’t you knock?” I grumbled.

  “And
miss all the fun?” He ran his knuckles over the top of my head, and I smacked his shoulder.

  “We aren’t in high school anymore.” I straightened up. “Greg is going back to Omaha.” Just the name made me shiver.

  Chet stared for a split second, then smiled and started dancing from foot to foot. “It’s about fucking time! I kept hoping you’d kick his useless ass to the curb, but he did it himself. When is hick-boy leaving? Maybe we should have a going-away party and not invite the loser.” He kept dancing, spinning around like a top. It was his signature move. Chet could spin on his toes faster than anyone I’d ever seen. It got him lots of dance jobs and was always a crowd-pleaser onstage.

  “It’s good to know how you really feel. You’re just as unemployed and just as single as I apparently am.” I shook my head. Just this morning I thought I had it good, had the things I wanted. Now, in the matter of a few hours, it was all fucking gone. I wrinkled my nose. And my shoe still stank. I kicked them both off.

  “Dude,” Chet groaned. “Shit happens.” He laughed at his own joke.

  “Cute, really cute.” I went to the tiny bathroom off the dressing room, grabbed some towels, and washed off the last of the shit from my shoe. I sat to put them back on, relieved I wasn’t going to be leaving a trail of stink everywhere I went. “What am I going to do?” I asked out loud, though not intending to.

  “Do what we always do: pick ourselves up, audition for the next show, and hope it lasts longer. I understand there are a few road shows that are looking for casts. We could contact them, see if they’re interested.”

  “I’ve done that.” Fucking hell, I’d done it all already.

  Chet plopped down in the small chair along the wall. “We can’t all have gigs that last as long as we want them. This is all part of the game. It has been for years. Nothing is going to change. There are no guarantees and you know it. So quit acting like someone kicked your dog and get on with it.”

  “Nice pep talk.” But I knew he was right. Behaving like a spoiled brat wasn’t going to change the nature of things.

  “You call Payton?” Chet asked, and I nodded. “Me too. We’ll see what he comes up with. This is how it always works.” He did another turn. Chet was tall, lean, and every gay boy’s dream, with near shoulder-length blond hair and a look that could melt butter from across the room. “Come on. We have a matinee this afternoon and another show tonight and tomorrow. Then we’re done and can have a rest for a while. That will do us both good.”

  I nodded, half thinking about what I wanted. Ever since my mom had taken me to my first show, Chicago, I’d known I wanted to be onstage. I’d already taken years of dance and ballet. I added voice training as an additional talent, and I was on my way. At least that was my dream, and I’d been living it until today.

  “Quit feeling sorry for yourself.” Chet pulled out a chair and perched on it. “It’s unbecoming and gives you lines.” He turned to the mirror. “Let’s go have some lunch. Then we’ll come back here, get ready, and give them the time of their lives.”

  “Yup!” Chet was right. I needed to get on with it.

  I stood, left my stuff in the room, and we headed back out to the street and down to a bodega we both liked. I got a rice dish with vegetables and a water, needing to watch my weight again. Not that it wasn’t a habit, but doing eight shows a week for months required energy, and I’d been able to let some of the diet slip just because I was working it off. Not for much longer, though.

  I paid for both lunches, and we sat at the counter, looking out the window as people passed in front of us. “Are you really happy doing all this, year after year?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m in New York and not Great Falls, Idaho, the soul-sucking center of the gay universe. My mom and dad still don’t talk to me, so there’s nothing to go back there for. Though why they left the East Coast is beyond me. And don’t give me this sad-sack routine. I know you love this life. There is nothing like the energy of the audience and the delight you can feel coming off them night after night. It’s like a drug that we get paid for.”

  I sighed and tried to hide it. “Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m a little overwhelmed today and need a chance to think… and maybe some alcohol.” I turned in time to see Chet roll his eyes. “Okay, a lot of alcohol.”

  We thunked water bottles and went back to eating our lunches.

  THE SHOW went as usual, with the audience a little extra enthusiastic. They must have known they were seeing one of the very last performances, and maybe that added to the excitement for them.

  Chet and I got a light dinner and then prepared for the second performance of the day. By the time I left the theater to drag my ass down Forty-Seventh Street, it was nearly midnight.

  “Do you want to go out?”

  I groaned at the idea. “God, no. I can barely move, and I need to go home and get some rest. After the day I’ve had, I think I need to see if Greg left anything in the apartment or if the little shit sold everything before he left.” Things had been fantastic at the beginning. We’d had a lot of fun together, and Greg was gorgeous, with a lot of energy. But I think the city might have been too much for him, and the demands on my time most likely hadn’t helped.

  “Then come on.” Chet took my arm. “No one should have to face that alone.” He walked with me to the subway, we rode to the Village, and I unlocked the door to my tiny two-room apartment.

  I stepped inside. Most everything seemed in order, except the place had been scoured of anything Greg’s. The bath and bedroom were empty of his things, and his part of the closet was bare. All my stuff seemed to be there. Not that I had much of value, but at least I wasn’t going to have to start over.

  “Not a thief, just a jerk?” Chet asked, waving a bottle of vodka as he stood in the doorway.

  I grabbed it, twisted off the top, and took a swig. Hell, I deserved it. “A scared man whose life just became too much for him,” I said, giving Greg the benefit of the doubt. Why the hell not? “The pace and demands here were too much for him.”

  “You deserve to be told to your face.” Chet grabbed the key to the mailbox and went back downstairs. He returned a few minutes later with a pile of what looked like bills and a large manila envelope.

  I set the mail on the table and took the envelope, curious about it. The return address was a law firm, and I cringed. What else could go wrong today? It would be just my luck to be sued for something.

  Chet peered over my shoulder as I pulled out the pages. “Huh.”

  “Yeah.” I scanned the letter, glad it wasn’t a summons, and then read in more detail. “It looks like I received an inheritance from my uncle Samuel.” I closed my eyes, trying to picture him. Ah, yes. He was my mother’s brother, and the two of them hadn’t talked to each other in years—some family feud whose origins had been lost to time, but the resentment lived on forever. At least it had for my mother. I opened my eyes and finished reading. “It looks like I’m the sole heir.”

  “Do you know this guy? You never mentioned him.”

  I had to think back and nodded. “He was the uncle who never married and lived on his own in a small town. My mother used to tell stories about how weird he was, but she also hated him for something to do with my grandmother’s death. I have no idea what. The reasons weren’t discussed. If anyone ever brought it up, she changed the subject or cursed him out no end, depending on her mood.” And if she’d been drinking.

  I reached for the vodka, put the lid on, and handed it back to Chet to put away. The taste no longer appealed.

  My stomach did a little rumble. My mother had that effect on me.

  “I remember coming home from school with a note from my first-grade teacher because I’d been caught saying ‘shit.’ My mom asked me where I learned to talk like that. I told her I learned it from her.” I grinned. “Mom went into a tirade, and Dad told her it was her fault and she needed to learn from it. I just went to my room while they fought for a while.” I shrugged. “Good
times.”

  “How is your dad?” Chet asked with a slight smile. They’d met when Dad had visited and hit it off.

  “Great, the last time I talked to him. I need to call and tell him about the show. He’ll be bummed for me.” I could always count on my dad to be there.

  “And your mom?”

  “The scream queen?”

  Chet chuckled. It was my latest nickname for her.

  “No idea. After the divorce, she and my dad fought for custody, but I said I didn’t want to go with my mom, and when the judge asked why, I said because she was drunk and mean. Dad got custody, and he did his best to be both mom and dad. He did a good job.” I was rambling a little and missed him all of a sudden. I really wanted to talk to him, but it was way too late to call. Dad would have been in bed for hours by now, and he needed to get up to work at the Ford dealership where he was a salesman.

  “You don’t see her.” It was a statement, and I nodded in agreement.

  “I might get a card from her at Christmas. The last one was postmarked Arizona, and the one before New Mexico. So I think she’s in the Southwest somewhere, but other than that, nothing. I haven’t seen any of her family in a long time either. You’ve met my dad’s family.”

  “Hell yes!” They loved Chet to death, especially the nieces and nephews, mainly because he was a big kid. Chet put the bottle in the cupboard. “Is there anything in the letter about what you inherited?”

  “Nope. Only that I’m the heir to the entire estate.”

  “What did your uncle do?” Chet asked, and I shook my head.

  “No idea whatsoever. I haven’t seen him since before the divorce, and I was… fourteen or fifteen? All I remember was him and my mother fighting… again, and then my dad getting her out of the restaurant to stop making a scene. Afterward, Dad filed for separation, and that was that.”

  I honestly hadn’t thought about my uncle much in all that time, which was very sad. Was Uncle Samuel cool? Would he have been fun to spend time with? I had no idea and suddenly wondered what I’d missed out on.