LP Adommy, chapter 6
A few more differences here.
Lost Princes, Adommy Version
Chapter 6
It was late at night; Juanita had long gone home. Adam was sitting on his new Italian couch, trying to wind down from a long, strenuous day. He’d lit a candle and on the coffee table sat a glass of well-chilled Chardonnay. It was glistening with tiny drops of condensed water, and some had trickled down its stem and formed a dark ring on the surface of whitewashed oak. Every once in a while the candle flickered and flared in a draft that otherwise was scarcely perceptible. Adam sighed, turning his eyes away.
The couch was a design piece, the graphite-colored leather soft and smooth, the upholstery luxurious and inviting. Decorative white seams and chrome feet gave it the air of belonging in the cockpit of a Lamborghini rather than in a living room. It seemed to be made to just sink back into it and relax. Somehow, tonight, Adam didn’t manage.
For a long time he sat there, unmoving except for an occasional twitch of his hands. Until the wail of a police siren a block away broke his trance and he leaned forward, reaching with unwilling hands for the little box he kept under the coffee table.
His fingers trembled a little as he put it on his lap and fumbled the lid off. In the box, on top of a small heap of other things, lay a folded piece of paper which he took out carefully. The paper was wrinkled, its edges ragged, and he unfolded it and gently eased the creases out.
It was a letter, written in a neat but very small hand. Stripes of Scotch tape crisscrossed its surface where it had been torn apart and pieced back together again. For a long time, Adam just sat there and regarded it. The light was too dim to read, but he knew its words by heart anyway. Slowly he put it on the table, safely away from the wet stain, and took the next item out of the box.
It was a long chain, white-gold, with a pendant in the shape of a tear. When he put it on, it fell onto his chest, feeling a lot more substantial than its size warranted. A first sob escaped his too tight throat, and he had to pause for a moment before he could reach for the last thing-the heavy bangle with the etched-in stars.
He fastened it around his wrist, clicking it shut. Cold at first, it soon soaked up his body heat, and when he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the firm grip of a hand around his arm. His breathing had sped up, like it always did at this point. Soon, his chest was heaving with deep, desperate breaths; yet he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. Sobbing he collapsed onto the cushions, arms wrapped around himself, and then, finally, the tears came.
~~~~~
“Yes?”
“Mom, it’s me, Adam. I need to talk to you. Can you come over sometime today?”
“Hey, sweetheart. Of course I can. I need to meet up with a client at ten but I’m free afterward. Should I bring lunch?”
“No, Juanita will whip up something. Just be there.”
~~~~~
It was a quarter past twelve when the doorbell rang twice in quick succession, his mom’s trademark chime. He opened the door and caught her smoothing her wind-blown hair down. They hugged and he led her to the kitchen, gesturing at her to sit down. Juanita had prepared sandwiches, a green salad and mojo verde, and the table was already laid.
“You sounded urgent this morning,” Leila said. “What’s up?”
Adam put his fork down. “I’m going to tell you what happened to me. It’s time. And then I’ll need your advice.”
It was the first time he’d ever told anyone the whole story, Adam realized. His mom’s eyes became rounder and rounder, and in the end she, too, had tears rolling down her face. “I can’t believe those people,” she said. “This sultan is such a bastard. I swear, if I ever get my hands on him… And the poor prince, all alone now! Have you tried looking for him?”
“Yes. I hired a private detective, but he only managed to find out that Tommy has disappeared, shortly after my escape, together with three other men. I’ve no idea where to look for him now. It’s killing me, mom!”
Leila reached for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “And what about Kris? I mean, I really want to wring his neck! What has he been thinking, trying to kill you, lying to you, after all you did for him! But--” She broke off, tears overwhelming her once more.
Silently, Adam gave her the letter. She read it twice before slowly putting it on the table.
“Oh, Adam. That’s so sad! What are you going to do?”
Adam looked out of the window at the rambler whose young shoots were being bent this way and that by the wind. “You tell me, mom.”
It was a long conversation that followed, though both of them had known where it would lead almost from the start.
~~~~~
Kris was in the bathroom, getting ready for his volunteer job at the soup kitchen, when the doorbell rang, accompanied by loud, insistent thumping.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he shouted, drying his hands before hurrying to the front door. Mrs. Chang, who lived on the second floor, tended to be a bit impatient, but this was unusual, even for her. It had to be something quite urgent. He pulled the door open, preparing himself for whatever emergency that might have occurred.
As it turned out, there was no emergency, and anyway, nothing could have prepared him for this. Adam Lambert was standing at his door, his hands jabbed deeply into to the pockets of his black jeans, and he looked tense and pale, like he’d had a bad night.
Kris had to clear his throat more than once before he could form words. “Do-do you want to come in?” He felt absolutely, helplessly stupid saying it.
But it seemed to have been the right question, because Adam nodded and stepped through the door, walking past Kris and right into the living room.
“You haven’t changed much,” he remarked. “It looks like, uh, before.”
“Didn’t change a thing,” Kris mumbled, feeling awkward and self-conscious.
Adam sat down on the sofa. Kris fetched a chair from the kitchen for himself.
“I got your letter,” Adam said.
At that, Kris heart sped up until it was doing double time.
“I’m sorry, Adam,” he said, eyes cast down. God, even his name felt like it didn’t belong on his lips.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “I know you are.”
There was silence for a while. Kris couldn’t bear it any longer.
“Why are you here?” he asked, and it felt like asking for some kind of verdict.
“I’m lonely,” Adam said into the silence. He spoke slowly, reluctantly, as if it the words were being torn out of his throat against his will. “And I’m worried about you.”
Kris shook his head. “Worried-about me? Are you…are you mocking me? Is this about revenge?” Finally he chanced a longer glance at Adam. To his surprise, Adam was looking just as out of his depth as he, Kris, felt.
“No,” he said, “no. I’m not mocking you. I want you to move in with me. I mean, as a friend,” he added hastily, “not like before. I couldn’t--.”
“No, of course not,” Kris interrupted him quickly. “I know that you belong with Tommy. You won’t believe me, but I’d never again try to change that. I’m not that person anymore. But do you really think me moving in with you is such a good idea?”
Adam gave him an assessing look. “Yes, I do. I’ve thought about this, Kris. Talked it through with my mom, too. I’m really fucking lonely. I need someone around, someone to talk to, someone who was there and knows how it was. I thought that could be you. You’ve been a real bastard, and what you did was a mad, cruel thing, but in a strange, screwed-up way being with you helped me. It’s hard to explain. Even if it all was built on a lie, the closeness we had felt real to me, you know? And I think I needed that. It’s as if since my escape from the palace I’ve been wearing some kind of armor. I just couldn’t let anyone get close.”
“Okay,” Kris managed, “I understand, but--,”he paused, shaking his head. “I’m damaged, Adam. You know that. What if I mess up and hurt you again?”
Adam sat up straighter. “I’m willing to take that risk.”
Kris’ sight was suddenly blurry with tears. “Then I say ‘yes’, Adam. If you really think it would help you, I‘ll do it.”
~~~~~
The next day Kris moved in with Adam. He had his own set of rooms in the villa, and decided to furnish them with their old second-hand furniture. Of course their life was very different from before; Adam had a busy schedule, and Kris continued helping at the center and had even begun to play on open-mic nights at smaller venues, so they mostly saw each other for breakfast and in the evenings. Generally, things worked well between them. Kris didn’t know how Adam had been before, but now he seemed quite content.
They talked a lot, Adam mostly about Tommy, and Kris, after a few weeks, could for the first time at all speak about the Sultan. More often than not, those evenings ended with them comforting each other. Kris found it helped him a lot. He was not so sure about Adam.
Sometimes, Adam had those dreams. He would be tossing and turning in his sleep, desperately calling Tommy’s name and crying as if his heart was breaking. And it was getting worse, the dreams kept recurring more often, and Kris began to wonder if staying with Adam really was such a good idea. Maybe, what was right for him, didn’t help Adam at all.
~~~~~
With a sinking heart Kris watched Adam become more and more preoccupied. The other man tried to hide it, yes, but as week after week passed and the dreams continued he grew quiet and subdued. Tense in a way he had never been before, unable to relax and let go. So when Kris’ eye fell on the pile of rather colorful fliers of a massage parlor next to the register of the small grocer’s shop he usually frequented, Kris not only took one, but, after hauling the groceries home, immediately went to check the studio out.
From the address he knew it had to be in their direct vicinity, about a 15 minutes’ walk from them. After taking one wrong turn, he found it without further problems. Like the flyer, the display above the shop window was rather gaudy. Bright, purple neon letters declared that this was “The Garden of Eden”, while an ornate golden script, painted directly onto the shop window advertised “Oriental Massage 4 U”. The window’s centerpiece was a male mannequin that was artfully draped over a pink sofa. Its sole piece of clothing consisted of a black leather harness and--. Kris blinked, rubbed his eyes and looked again. The picture stayed the same: A set of golden chains with shackles for wrists and ankles. Just like the one Adam had told him about, not too long ago. How strange.
Well, Kris mused, it had to be a sign. He decided to enter the parlor to make an appointment for Adam, and he’d already set one foot on the doorstep when he suddenly saw a familiar face. Thankfully the face was in profile and not looking in his direction.
Kris froze. Slowly, feeling numb inside, he stepped back from the shop, turned around and fled down the small street as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. Only when he was safely back in the villa and had collapsed onto a kitchen chair, he came to his senses. What the hell was Adjani doing in LA? Was it possible that the prince was with him? He had to be. Kris knew how close those two were. He couldn’t imagine anything driving the big man from the prince’s side. Tommy had to be here, too, so close to him and Adam.
Oh, God, what should he do now? He knew he simply should go back to the shop and check things out, and then tell Adam about it. It would be the right thing to do. Only, doing so would mean leaving Adam.
But what was the alternative? Lying to Adam, again? If Kris had learned one thing it was that his luck in these things never lasted. Fate had a way of showing him up; it was only a question of time until his luck would run out. And the longer that period of time was, the more Adam would hate him in the end. Hiding Tommy’s presence from him would be the one thing he would find unforgivable. No, he couldn’t do that to him. Not again. Even if it meant he had to go.
Before he could change his mind, he went and got the flyer he had hidden in his guitar case, together with the dog tag the Sultan had put on him. It was a bit creased; he had jammed it into the small compartment quite forcefully. He smoothed the wrinkles out, took his cell phone and dialed.
At the third ring a cheerful voice answered.
“The Garden of Eden, oriental massage for you. This is Shahin. What can I do for you?”
“Uh, yes, hello. Um, I wanted to make an appointment with one of your therapists,” Kris managed awkwardly.
“Of course,” chirped Shahin. “Who can I book for you?”
“A friend of mine recommended someone,” Kris lied smoothly. “But I’m afraid I have forgotten the name. I think the guy who did his massage had blond hair.”
Shahin laughed. “Then this is easy. Only one of us is blond, and that is Tommy. Shall I book him for you?”
“Yes, please” Kris croaked, his heart breaking a little.
“Tell me your name, please.”
“Uh, it’s Allen,” Kris stammered, “Make it out for Mr. Allen, please.”
“Okay, Mr. Allen. Tommy has a free slot tomorrow at ten. Is that convenient for you?”
Kris had to clear his throat again. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“And what treatment do you want to book? Something special, hot stones, or a regular massage?”
“Regular, please,” Kris replied, eager to finish that call.
“Okay. I‘ve put you down for a regular massage with Tommy, tomorrow at ten. Thank you, Mr. Allen. See you tomorrow.”
“Yes, see you,” Kris said weakly, disconnecting the call. He collapsed down onto a chair. Tomorrow, then. So soon. His heart sank.
~~~~~
That evening, he made chicken breasts with brown rice and spinach leaves, Adam’s favorite dish, and served it with a bottle of chilled Italian Pinot Grigio. Afterward, they sat on Adam’s big leather couch, watched TV and talked. Kris couldn’t help it, he had to look at Adam all the time, and sometimes his eyes were tearing up and he had to excuse himself and go to the bathroom to get a grip on himself.
“You know, Kris,” Adam said after one such trip, “tonight I get the strangest vibes from you. Is everything all right?”
Kris could only nod. “I’m fine, Adam. Maybe I’m allergic, or something.”
That night he stayed awake. He snuck into Adam’s bedroom and watched him sleep, not wanting to miss even one second of it. In the morning he made breakfast for the two of them, with fruit salad, waffles and the hot strong mocha Adam preferred. And afterward he told Adam about the appointment he’d made for him, packed him a bag with mineral water and towels and sent him off.
Lost Princes, Adommy Version
Chapter 6
It was late at night; Juanita had long gone home. Adam was sitting on his new Italian couch, trying to wind down from a long, strenuous day. He’d lit a candle and on the coffee table sat a glass of well-chilled Chardonnay. It was glistening with tiny drops of condensed water, and some had trickled down its stem and formed a dark ring on the surface of whitewashed oak. Every once in a while the candle flickered and flared in a draft that otherwise was scarcely perceptible. Adam sighed, turning his eyes away.
The couch was a design piece, the graphite-colored leather soft and smooth, the upholstery luxurious and inviting. Decorative white seams and chrome feet gave it the air of belonging in the cockpit of a Lamborghini rather than in a living room. It seemed to be made to just sink back into it and relax. Somehow, tonight, Adam didn’t manage.
For a long time he sat there, unmoving except for an occasional twitch of his hands. Until the wail of a police siren a block away broke his trance and he leaned forward, reaching with unwilling hands for the little box he kept under the coffee table.
His fingers trembled a little as he put it on his lap and fumbled the lid off. In the box, on top of a small heap of other things, lay a folded piece of paper which he took out carefully. The paper was wrinkled, its edges ragged, and he unfolded it and gently eased the creases out.
It was a letter, written in a neat but very small hand. Stripes of Scotch tape crisscrossed its surface where it had been torn apart and pieced back together again. For a long time, Adam just sat there and regarded it. The light was too dim to read, but he knew its words by heart anyway. Slowly he put it on the table, safely away from the wet stain, and took the next item out of the box.
It was a long chain, white-gold, with a pendant in the shape of a tear. When he put it on, it fell onto his chest, feeling a lot more substantial than its size warranted. A first sob escaped his too tight throat, and he had to pause for a moment before he could reach for the last thing-the heavy bangle with the etched-in stars.
He fastened it around his wrist, clicking it shut. Cold at first, it soon soaked up his body heat, and when he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the firm grip of a hand around his arm. His breathing had sped up, like it always did at this point. Soon, his chest was heaving with deep, desperate breaths; yet he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. Sobbing he collapsed onto the cushions, arms wrapped around himself, and then, finally, the tears came.
~~~~~
“Yes?”
“Mom, it’s me, Adam. I need to talk to you. Can you come over sometime today?”
“Hey, sweetheart. Of course I can. I need to meet up with a client at ten but I’m free afterward. Should I bring lunch?”
“No, Juanita will whip up something. Just be there.”
~~~~~
It was a quarter past twelve when the doorbell rang twice in quick succession, his mom’s trademark chime. He opened the door and caught her smoothing her wind-blown hair down. They hugged and he led her to the kitchen, gesturing at her to sit down. Juanita had prepared sandwiches, a green salad and mojo verde, and the table was already laid.
“You sounded urgent this morning,” Leila said. “What’s up?”
Adam put his fork down. “I’m going to tell you what happened to me. It’s time. And then I’ll need your advice.”
It was the first time he’d ever told anyone the whole story, Adam realized. His mom’s eyes became rounder and rounder, and in the end she, too, had tears rolling down her face. “I can’t believe those people,” she said. “This sultan is such a bastard. I swear, if I ever get my hands on him… And the poor prince, all alone now! Have you tried looking for him?”
“Yes. I hired a private detective, but he only managed to find out that Tommy has disappeared, shortly after my escape, together with three other men. I’ve no idea where to look for him now. It’s killing me, mom!”
Leila reached for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “And what about Kris? I mean, I really want to wring his neck! What has he been thinking, trying to kill you, lying to you, after all you did for him! But--” She broke off, tears overwhelming her once more.
Silently, Adam gave her the letter. She read it twice before slowly putting it on the table.
“Oh, Adam. That’s so sad! What are you going to do?”
Adam looked out of the window at the rambler whose young shoots were being bent this way and that by the wind. “You tell me, mom.”
It was a long conversation that followed, though both of them had known where it would lead almost from the start.
~~~~~
Kris was in the bathroom, getting ready for his volunteer job at the soup kitchen, when the doorbell rang, accompanied by loud, insistent thumping.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he shouted, drying his hands before hurrying to the front door. Mrs. Chang, who lived on the second floor, tended to be a bit impatient, but this was unusual, even for her. It had to be something quite urgent. He pulled the door open, preparing himself for whatever emergency that might have occurred.
As it turned out, there was no emergency, and anyway, nothing could have prepared him for this. Adam Lambert was standing at his door, his hands jabbed deeply into to the pockets of his black jeans, and he looked tense and pale, like he’d had a bad night.
Kris had to clear his throat more than once before he could form words. “Do-do you want to come in?” He felt absolutely, helplessly stupid saying it.
But it seemed to have been the right question, because Adam nodded and stepped through the door, walking past Kris and right into the living room.
“You haven’t changed much,” he remarked. “It looks like, uh, before.”
“Didn’t change a thing,” Kris mumbled, feeling awkward and self-conscious.
Adam sat down on the sofa. Kris fetched a chair from the kitchen for himself.
“I got your letter,” Adam said.
At that, Kris heart sped up until it was doing double time.
“I’m sorry, Adam,” he said, eyes cast down. God, even his name felt like it didn’t belong on his lips.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “I know you are.”
There was silence for a while. Kris couldn’t bear it any longer.
“Why are you here?” he asked, and it felt like asking for some kind of verdict.
“I’m lonely,” Adam said into the silence. He spoke slowly, reluctantly, as if it the words were being torn out of his throat against his will. “And I’m worried about you.”
Kris shook his head. “Worried-about me? Are you…are you mocking me? Is this about revenge?” Finally he chanced a longer glance at Adam. To his surprise, Adam was looking just as out of his depth as he, Kris, felt.
“No,” he said, “no. I’m not mocking you. I want you to move in with me. I mean, as a friend,” he added hastily, “not like before. I couldn’t--.”
“No, of course not,” Kris interrupted him quickly. “I know that you belong with Tommy. You won’t believe me, but I’d never again try to change that. I’m not that person anymore. But do you really think me moving in with you is such a good idea?”
Adam gave him an assessing look. “Yes, I do. I’ve thought about this, Kris. Talked it through with my mom, too. I’m really fucking lonely. I need someone around, someone to talk to, someone who was there and knows how it was. I thought that could be you. You’ve been a real bastard, and what you did was a mad, cruel thing, but in a strange, screwed-up way being with you helped me. It’s hard to explain. Even if it all was built on a lie, the closeness we had felt real to me, you know? And I think I needed that. It’s as if since my escape from the palace I’ve been wearing some kind of armor. I just couldn’t let anyone get close.”
“Okay,” Kris managed, “I understand, but--,”he paused, shaking his head. “I’m damaged, Adam. You know that. What if I mess up and hurt you again?”
Adam sat up straighter. “I’m willing to take that risk.”
Kris’ sight was suddenly blurry with tears. “Then I say ‘yes’, Adam. If you really think it would help you, I‘ll do it.”
~~~~~
The next day Kris moved in with Adam. He had his own set of rooms in the villa, and decided to furnish them with their old second-hand furniture. Of course their life was very different from before; Adam had a busy schedule, and Kris continued helping at the center and had even begun to play on open-mic nights at smaller venues, so they mostly saw each other for breakfast and in the evenings. Generally, things worked well between them. Kris didn’t know how Adam had been before, but now he seemed quite content.
They talked a lot, Adam mostly about Tommy, and Kris, after a few weeks, could for the first time at all speak about the Sultan. More often than not, those evenings ended with them comforting each other. Kris found it helped him a lot. He was not so sure about Adam.
Sometimes, Adam had those dreams. He would be tossing and turning in his sleep, desperately calling Tommy’s name and crying as if his heart was breaking. And it was getting worse, the dreams kept recurring more often, and Kris began to wonder if staying with Adam really was such a good idea. Maybe, what was right for him, didn’t help Adam at all.
~~~~~
With a sinking heart Kris watched Adam become more and more preoccupied. The other man tried to hide it, yes, but as week after week passed and the dreams continued he grew quiet and subdued. Tense in a way he had never been before, unable to relax and let go. So when Kris’ eye fell on the pile of rather colorful fliers of a massage parlor next to the register of the small grocer’s shop he usually frequented, Kris not only took one, but, after hauling the groceries home, immediately went to check the studio out.
From the address he knew it had to be in their direct vicinity, about a 15 minutes’ walk from them. After taking one wrong turn, he found it without further problems. Like the flyer, the display above the shop window was rather gaudy. Bright, purple neon letters declared that this was “The Garden of Eden”, while an ornate golden script, painted directly onto the shop window advertised “Oriental Massage 4 U”. The window’s centerpiece was a male mannequin that was artfully draped over a pink sofa. Its sole piece of clothing consisted of a black leather harness and--. Kris blinked, rubbed his eyes and looked again. The picture stayed the same: A set of golden chains with shackles for wrists and ankles. Just like the one Adam had told him about, not too long ago. How strange.
Well, Kris mused, it had to be a sign. He decided to enter the parlor to make an appointment for Adam, and he’d already set one foot on the doorstep when he suddenly saw a familiar face. Thankfully the face was in profile and not looking in his direction.
Kris froze. Slowly, feeling numb inside, he stepped back from the shop, turned around and fled down the small street as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. Only when he was safely back in the villa and had collapsed onto a kitchen chair, he came to his senses. What the hell was Adjani doing in LA? Was it possible that the prince was with him? He had to be. Kris knew how close those two were. He couldn’t imagine anything driving the big man from the prince’s side. Tommy had to be here, too, so close to him and Adam.
Oh, God, what should he do now? He knew he simply should go back to the shop and check things out, and then tell Adam about it. It would be the right thing to do. Only, doing so would mean leaving Adam.
But what was the alternative? Lying to Adam, again? If Kris had learned one thing it was that his luck in these things never lasted. Fate had a way of showing him up; it was only a question of time until his luck would run out. And the longer that period of time was, the more Adam would hate him in the end. Hiding Tommy’s presence from him would be the one thing he would find unforgivable. No, he couldn’t do that to him. Not again. Even if it meant he had to go.
Before he could change his mind, he went and got the flyer he had hidden in his guitar case, together with the dog tag the Sultan had put on him. It was a bit creased; he had jammed it into the small compartment quite forcefully. He smoothed the wrinkles out, took his cell phone and dialed.
At the third ring a cheerful voice answered.
“The Garden of Eden, oriental massage for you. This is Shahin. What can I do for you?”
“Uh, yes, hello. Um, I wanted to make an appointment with one of your therapists,” Kris managed awkwardly.
“Of course,” chirped Shahin. “Who can I book for you?”
“A friend of mine recommended someone,” Kris lied smoothly. “But I’m afraid I have forgotten the name. I think the guy who did his massage had blond hair.”
Shahin laughed. “Then this is easy. Only one of us is blond, and that is Tommy. Shall I book him for you?”
“Yes, please” Kris croaked, his heart breaking a little.
“Tell me your name, please.”
“Uh, it’s Allen,” Kris stammered, “Make it out for Mr. Allen, please.”
“Okay, Mr. Allen. Tommy has a free slot tomorrow at ten. Is that convenient for you?”
Kris had to clear his throat again. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“And what treatment do you want to book? Something special, hot stones, or a regular massage?”
“Regular, please,” Kris replied, eager to finish that call.
“Okay. I‘ve put you down for a regular massage with Tommy, tomorrow at ten. Thank you, Mr. Allen. See you tomorrow.”
“Yes, see you,” Kris said weakly, disconnecting the call. He collapsed down onto a chair. Tomorrow, then. So soon. His heart sank.
~~~~~
That evening, he made chicken breasts with brown rice and spinach leaves, Adam’s favorite dish, and served it with a bottle of chilled Italian Pinot Grigio. Afterward, they sat on Adam’s big leather couch, watched TV and talked. Kris couldn’t help it, he had to look at Adam all the time, and sometimes his eyes were tearing up and he had to excuse himself and go to the bathroom to get a grip on himself.
“You know, Kris,” Adam said after one such trip, “tonight I get the strangest vibes from you. Is everything all right?”
Kris could only nod. “I’m fine, Adam. Maybe I’m allergic, or something.”
That night he stayed awake. He snuck into Adam’s bedroom and watched him sleep, not wanting to miss even one second of it. In the morning he made breakfast for the two of them, with fruit salad, waffles and the hot strong mocha Adam preferred. And afterward he told Adam about the appointment he’d made for him, packed him a bag with mineral water and towels and sent him off.