The carrots on the table were deliciously orange and supremely indifferent to the glare directed at them. Or perhaps they just knew that the glare wasn't really for them, that they were merely a suitable object to be glared at, in the absence of the actual offender. This way or that, they made no complaint while a large, recently sharpened knife was steadily reducing them into thin slices.
Karos peered into the kitchen and frowned a little, then leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms on his chest. Loren acknowledged his presence with a glance and small grin, then turned his attention once more to the vegetables.
For a few moments Karos watched him, chewing his lip, then took a deep breath.
"Loren, may I have a word with you?"
"Sure!" Loren smiled to him. "What is it?"
"That's what I wanted to ask you," Karos said. "I mean, is something wrong?"
The knife halted in mid-air and Loren stared at the older man.
"Wrong?" he echoed. "What do you mean, wrong?"
Karos shrugged somewhat helplessly. "Well, what I mean is, is everything okay with the two of you? Everything still peachy?"
"Yeah," Loren said, but a wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. "Sure it is. Why wouldn't it be?"
"I, uh, I just thought. Damn." Karos combed fingers through his long hair, snagged off the string that still pretended to hold back his ponytail and twisted it in his hands. "Look, I don't mean to pry. It's just that, well, I like you a lot. You're a really nice boy and I think it's great, the way you two go together – no, wait! Hear me out!"
He raised a hand when Loren opened his mouth.
"If it's something going wrong, if you feel that this thing of yours is not going to work out after all, I promise I'm not going to try and keep you together against your will, but –"
"Hey, breathe every now and then, will you?" Loren chuckled. "I catch your drift, Karos, and I appreciate it, but honestly there's nothing wrong and at least I'm not even thinking about splitting up, or anything! Whatever makes you ask?"
When an answer wasn't forthcoming, he glanced up once more, eyebrows rising.
"Karos? Spill it now!"
"I don't know how to say this now," the man groaned. "I've just thought you've been a bit – tense, these past couple of days. But maybe I'm mistaken," he hurried to add. "I'm not awfully good at this sort of thing, as Arjan has no doubt told you."
"Tense? Me?" Loren shrugged and scooped the sliced vegetables into a bowl. Karos squared his shoulders.
"Yes, you," he said more firmly. "And now I'm sure about it. Do you think you could talk to me? I won't let Arjan know, I promise."
"Oh, no worries about that," Loren said lightly. "He wouldn't notice a thing anyway, not with that commission to work with."
"So there's something wrong after all."
Karos sighed and stepped properly into the kitchen, then pulled a chair from a corner and sat down in it backwards. "Is it the commission, or what?"
"No."
Karos waited patiently. Loren didn't as much as look at him until he'd got all the ingredients reduced into suitable size pieces and into a kettle. Then the younger man turned around and leaned his butt against the edge of the side table.
"I didn't want anyone to notice anything," he said, lips pressing together in a dissatisfied pout. "But I guess I'm pissed at him anyway, for not noticing... shit, I'm such a wuss!"
"What is it then?" Karos ventured to ask. "What should Arjan have noticed?"
"That I was pissed off," Loren grumbled. "Then I'm pissed at him because he didn't notice, and to top it all, I'm really pissed at myself for being pissed off in the first place, because what else could I ever expect, for fuck's sake? Of course it's impossible, and I know it damn well!"
"Sorry..." Karos blinked. "You lost me somewhere along the way. So it wasn't Arjan who pissed you off to start with?"
"No. Not him. Or, well, actually it's his fault because if it hadn't been for him, I'd be blissfully unaware of the Rose, so –"
Loren paused, looked at Karos' nonplussed face and took a deep breath.
"Right. I'm making no sense at all. Okay, you asked, you deserve to know. It's about this house."
"A house?" Karos echoed cautiously. "What house?"
"A big old abandoned villa. This level, South End, Hillside Alley." Loren plopped down on another chair and raked both hands through his curling hair. "We just happened to walk past it the other day and noticed it. Then a few days later we were on the Third, and Arjan noticed this sign outside an estate agency, and he booked us a viewing. Just like that! Walked in and said we'd like to see the place!"
Loren grimaced at Karos' chuckle. "So we went there with this guy who showed us around, though of course there's no fucking way we could ever buy it. Especially as it's hopelessly big – can you imagine, a ballroom downstairs? And six upstairs bedrooms, each with an own bathroom? What would anyone do with a house like that?"
"What indeed," Karos said, intrigued. "I have a feeling that I'm about to hear, though."
"I totally love it," Loren murmured, to himself as much as to Karos. "I can't get the goddamn house out of my head! Six upstairs bedrooms, with bathroom. A large room downstairs, with doors to the terrace. An ideal restaurant. And on the right side of that entrance hall, there'd be just enough room for a reception counter. It wouldn't even block the door to the kitchen..."
"Hey, hey!" Karos straightened up in his chair. "It sure sounds like you'd know exactly what to do with it."
"I'd turn it into a hotel," Loren groaned. "I know, it'd be a risky business this high up. But really, it wouldn't need to make cartloads of money – just enough for the two of us to survive, and we'd of course live there. We wouldn't even need a lot of staff to run such a small place. It's a totally mad idea, but it just popped up in my head the instant I first saw the floor plans. Oh, it was such a mistake to go there with Arjan! I should've let him go alone. Because now I see Old Rose as I'd want it to be, and I'm going completely crazy."
Karos stood up and went to squeeze Loren's shoulder with a sympathetic hand.
"Old Rose?" He smiled. "Sounds like love all right, if you already have a name for it, too! So, when did this happen, a few days back?"
"Oh no." Loren shook his head. "It's now a couple of weeks since. It was well before Arjan got commissioned to do this portrait."
"But then what happened earlier this week?" Karos inquired. "Or did I just now notice that there's something bothering you?"
Loren gave him a gloomy sideways glare. "Actually, no. I just made a major blunder the day before yesterday, after I walked down to the Second with Arjan." He sighed. "After we parted ways there, I went into a bank."
"And?" Karos prompted and got a loud snort in reply.
"Oh, I could repeat the conversation we had, word for word! 'Good afternoon, how can we help you?' 'I'd like to ask about the possibility to get a loan.' 'How old are you?' 'Twenty.' 'Do you have permanent employment?' 'No.' 'In that case I'm afraid we cannot help you, sir, good day to you.' That was it!"
Loren banged a fist on the table and sighed. "I guess it's only good that we never got round to talking about any sums, though. They would've probably died laughing."
"Well," Karos said, "I can't blame you for being pissed off. I'm sure I'd be, if I'd been treated like that. You were a customer... by the way, how much does that house cost?"
"Why would you want to know that?" Loren stood up and opened the lid of the kettle just enough to let out a belch of steam and to peer in. "Hmm, where did I put that stirring thing?"
Karos didn't give up, though, and when Loren finally stated the requested sum, he looked surprised.
"Really not much for a house a big as that," he said thoughtfully. Loren looked even grumpier.
"I know," he said curtly. "Anyway, it's a lot more money than I'll ever have. And I'd so much want to kick myself halfway through the country for being so stupid! 'Looking doesn't cost a crown,' says he, and now I just can't shake it! Then the goddamn idiot goes and bags some fucking commission and gets totally absorbed by it, so that I have nothing else to think about. Just the bloody Old Rose..."
"You really have it bad," Karos said. "Must be the innkeeper blood in you, or something."
"I guess so," Loren said and even managed a small wry grin. "Well, my folks have had the inn for several generations, so it probably runs in the family."
Karos nodded and for some time silence reigned in the kitchen, broken only by the quiet gurgle from the kettle and the occasional clank when Loren placed some utensil on the table. Apparently lost in thought, the older man slowly rubbed his chin with a thumb, then glanced at his son's lover who didn't notice the new glint that had appeared in his eyes.
"I don't think it's such a crazy plan, though," he said. "For one thing, I'm sure there'd be plenty enough customers for another restaurant up here, and –"
Loren spun around, eyes going round.
"Karos!" he yelped. "What the hell are you trying to do? Shut up right now!"
"No, I won't!" Karos insisted. "Just listen to me for a moment, will you? Okay, so you'd need the money to buy it, plus plenty more to have the place repaired and to buy all the stuff one needs in a hotel, right? Well, for one thing I'm sure I know quite a few people who'd definitely do their share to help, so you wouldn't need to hire all the workforce you'd need. I'm sure Reonn would do that, too. And I'd be happy to invest my next quarterly, all of it. It's not nearly enough, but at least you'd have a leg to stand on, and I've sold a few paintings recently so we'd be all right. What do you say?"
"That you're out of your mind," Loren panted. "No, I won't. I can't. Absolutely no."
"Think about it," Karos said with emphasis. "I'm totally serious here. You might also consider some sort of thing where many people could have shares in. I'm sure there'd be people to invest a little, and many little investments might eventually become something big enough. Oh, and what about your parents? Do you think they'd want to have a share in their son's enterprise down here?"
Loren was desperately shaking his head all the time Karos spoke. Finally he turned once more to his cooking, spreading his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Karos. Stop. Please. Just don't. It's not going to happen, ever, and I don't want to think about it. Okay?"
Karos opened his mouth, but before he had time to say anything, they heard brisk steps from the corridor and then the door flew open.
"Anybody home?" Reonn peered into the kitchen, looking hopeful, and flashed the two men a broad grin. "Right, there you are! Arjan not here yet? Do I have time to get myself washed?"
"Sure you have," Loren assured him, "this hasn't been cooking long yet. No rush."
"Oh, good."
Reonn disappeared once more behind the corner, and Karos pushed himself up from the chair. "Shall I come and wash your back?" he called.
Reonn's laughter echoed in the walls. "If you feel like it," he sent back. "I'm not saying no."
"Karos," Loren hissed snatching a firm hold of the dark man's sleeve, "not a word to him, okay? We'll now drop this topic once and for all, is that understood? Or I'll never pose for you again – except in a full-length bearskin fur coat!"
Karos looked desperate but nodded nevertheless, then winked.
"How about posing on top of that bearskin?"
"No. In it, and completely buttoned up, if you as much as breathe about this."
"Oh, but think about it!" Karos cajoled. "Your hair would look gorgeous against dark fur. And I bet Arjan would like it, too."
"Get lost!"
The older man avoided the punch directed at his midsection and slipped out of the kitchen, chuckling to himself.
