A blanket of white stretched out before them when they left the alleyway. Judging by the scarcity of footprints, the snow had been falling hard for some time. They walked in silence, huddled together to ward off the cold, and when they turned the corner Tony stopped, glaring up at Frost in shock. He swallowed hard. “How do you know where I live?”
Frost’s arm tightened around him, but not in a menacing manner. “Don’t worry, I’m harmless. I know a lot about you, Anthony, but don’t take it as a bad thing.”
Tony should be scared, but for some unfathomable reason he wasn’t. There was an honesty about Frost, a trustworthiness. Besides, the club ran background checks on their security staff, didn’t they? They approached the building and, surprisingly, his escort didn’t have to ask for his pass key to get in. “I live a floor above you,” Frost explained, a half smile playing across his full lips.
How had Tony missed a walking wet dream living one floor above him? Answering the unvoiced question, Frost explained, “I work a lot; I’m almost never home. I only learned a month ago that you lived here.” Face averted as he opened the door, he added, “You never talked when you were rehearsing, so…”
Well, Tony certainly would have chewed Frost’s ear off if he hadn’t seemed so standoffish. As Rudy had pointed out earlier, the man wasn’t exactly outgoing, and Tony’d been told dancers weren’t encouraged to get friendly with the rest of the staff. Then again, the source of his information wasn’t exactly reliable.
“I’m sorry,” Tony replied. “The truth is, I’m still feeling a little out of place there.” Suddenly, Frost’s words from earlier came back to him. “You called me Anthony,” he barked, jumping back and glaring. “No one’s called me Anthony since…”
The big man sighed. “Since your accident, I know. Look, I’d like a chance to talk to you. Would you come up to my place for coffee?”
The last thing Tony wanted was a muddling of his old life and new. He’d buried his past and damned well meant it to stay buried. If this man knew of “Anthony”, how many others did? If anyone from his past still gave a rat’s ass about him, why had he been alone since that fateful day?
“Look, I promise all I want to do is talk.”
Rationally, if Frost intended to harm Tony, he’d had a million opportunities. “Okay,” Tony replied, “we’ll talk.”
He grew a bit nervous when they by-passed the elevator in favor of the stairs and his hackles rose, worrying his neighbor and coworker practiced stalking. Only someone who’d been studying him could know of his aversion to elevators. Frost’s hasty confession calmed his fears. “Sorry, but after spending so much time in a tank in Afghanistan, I’m a little claustrophobic. You can take the elevator if you want, and meet me on the fifth floor.”
“That’s okay. Actually, I prefer the stairs myself.”
They climbed in silence, his damaged leg protesting slightly, and then ambled down the hall side by side. Frost opened the door and they entered the apartment directly above Tony’s own. While the two apartments shared the same layouts, Frost’s was decorated much differently, nearly Spartan in its furnishings, unlike Tony’s cozy, throw-pillow infested dwelling. Frost took their coats to hang in the hall closet before removing his sunglasses and placing them on a small table nearby.
He rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “Light hurts my eyes,” he explained, “especially the ones onstage. I don’t see how you dancers stand it.”
Opening his mouth and inserting his foot, Tony blurted, “I though you wore dark glasses to keep from freaking people out with your spooky eyes.”
“That, too,” his host replied with a laugh.
Cheeks flaming hotly, Tony stammered an apology, “Gee, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Frost’s smile never dimmed. “That’s okay, I’m used to it.”
Not knowing what else to say, Tony took the opportunity to scan the living and kitchen areas, comparing them to his own. Apparently the big man preferred comfort over function and style. A small Christmas tree stood in one corner, a handful of ornaments giving it a tragic rather than a festive air. Still, the plastic tree was more than Tony had. An image of his last Christmas tree popped into his head. He’d splurged and hired someone to professionally decorate his splendid Fraser fir, a luxury he could no longer afford. Hell, he couldn’t