Free Aria by Shira Anthony

there’s anything I can do about it. He’d just have to wait until it blew over. On the bright side, though, he was unlikely to be seeing much of Alexandria. Silver lining.
    His phone buzzed again. His agent this time, with a text. Remember—any publicity is good publicity. Aiden laughed and shook his head. Chuck Ritter was a great agent and pragmatist. Still, the fact that the photo had not only ended up in print, but had already hit the web, unsettled Aiden. How many other people would see it? He didn’t want Sam to see it. He tossed the phone onto the bed and headed for the shower.
    S
AM sat on the couch drinking a large café au lait, computer on his lap. He had surprisingly few e-mails to respond to—his partner, Stacey Atkinson, had managed to put out most of the fires at the office, and the two new hires were pulling their weight. He answered the remaining emails to clients before reviewing the latest draft of a motion to compel in a race discrimination case. But he wasn’t seeing the document. He was thinking about Aiden.
    His hand strayed to the touchpad on the laptop and moved the pointer up to the search box. He typed “Aiden Lind” and clicked Search. The Wikipedia entry read:
    Aiden Lind. Opera singer. Born August 29th, Jackson, Mississippi. Baritone, known for roles such as Scarpia in Puccini’s Tosca , the title role in Mozart’s Don Giovanni , Renato in Verdi’s Un Ballo in Maschera , among others. Recent performances in London, Milan, Rome, San Francisco, and Chicago have been met with critical praise.
    Impressive. All of it. But it said nothing about the man except that he was going to turn thirty this summer and was quite successful. Sam followed a link for an article from an American gossip magazine, entitled “Aiden Lind’s Silent Agony.”
    Rising young opera star Aiden Lind, in Milan for rehearsals of a new production of Verdi’s La Forza del Destino at La Scala, has been seen on the arm of Italy’s favorite pop singer, Sylvia Trattorina. The two spent the evening at Disco 90, a new dance club. However, rumor has it that Mr. Lind left the club by himself. Since his much-publicized breakup from London billionaire Cameron Sherrington, Lind has rarely been spotted in public other than at the usual opera galas and fundraisers. Sources close to Mr. Lind say he is still heartbroken over the split. Says Luigi Ferri of Eurostyle Celebrity Magazine , “It’s a classic story of heartbreak. He’s single, gorgeous, and a paparazzo’s wet dream. It’s a terrible tragedy to see him suffer so.” Ferri went on to say….
    Sam felt his jaw clench and he closed the window for the article. The man in the article was nothing like the Aiden Lind he had known in New York or, for that matter, the man he’d spoken to last night. Sam knew Aiden was bisexual, but he could hardly see him dating pop divas or crying his eyes out in an empty hotel room.
    Friends , he reminded himself. And if they ended up in bed together, would that be so terrible? He’d be heading home in a little over two weeks.
    Home. Five years after he left New York, the fabulous apartment with the killer view of Philadelphia still didn’t feel much like home to Sam. Home for him was the Brooklyn loft, with the pipes running along the ceiling and the easel in the corner covered with blotches of paint, the futon bed, and the rice-paper light fixture. The only trace of Nick that inhabited the Philly apartment was in the paintings he had left behind.
    Sam remembered the first time Nick had seen the loft and how he’d been fascinated by the slate roof on the old brick fire station across the street. Sam had gone apartment hunting without Nick and had hesitated to put a deposit down on the apartment without Nick’s approval.
    “I trust you, Sam,” Nick had told him. “You know how hard it is to find a cheap place in Brooklyn Heights. Go for it.”
And when Nick gathered Sam into his arms, he told him, “It’s perfect.” Sam