Here to Stay

By A.Y. Caluen

A midlife M/M romance novella about choosing love.

Sergei Kotov had a good job and a good life in Las Vegas. At fifty-three, he had more than most people, and if it wasn't everything he wanted, it was enough; he was content. Then a friend from his past sent him to see a new lounge act, and suddenly Sergei was no longer content.

Gino Corsetti had nothing to complain of. At forty-seven, he had the sort of long-term performance contract that most singers could only dream of. After a quarter of a century on the road, he was finally ready to call someplace home. If only he knew what that meant. Then a friend told him someone was coming to see his show. A man who'd made a home for himself, here in Vegas.

There'd been a lot of Maybe and Not Quite in Gino's life. A lot of Almost and Not Now in Sergei's. The idea that they might be right for each other seemed like more than a gamble: it seemed like an impossible dream. But what if it were true?

Adult situations, themes, and language; 25,500 words and a happy ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexandra Caluen
• Release date: Sep 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223837664

A.Y. Caluen

A.Y. Caluen lives in a small purple house with her husband, a bottle of Laphroaig, a lot of books, and nine pairs of ballroom shoes. She is the author of over fifty contemporary romance novels and novellas featuring creative, diverse characters.

Book preview

Chapter 1

April 2014

Sergei Kotov had lived in Las Vegas for ten years. He had a great job as a trainer for one of the massively-popular showgirl extravaganzas on the Strip. He had a house with a pool, a paid-off car, several good friends, a cat named Gypsy, and many friendly acquaintances. At fifty-three, he was content. His life was full, he had more than most people, and if it wasn’t everything he wanted, it was enough. Then a friend from his past sent a text telling him to go see Gino Corsetti, and because Andy Martin had never wasted Sergei’s time, he did. And suddenly he was no longer content.

The day after seeing Corsetti’s Sinatra tribute show, Sergei wrote to Andy: I saw the show. Explain

The reply took twenty-four hours: He’s a friend of my boyfriend’s and we thought the two of you might like to meet. They went on a date last summer when I was making Victor jump through hoops

I will need to know more about that sometime

OMG long story, what’s a good time to call? So they set a time, and Sergei got the long story, plus a little more about Corsetti’s connection to Victor Garcia. Gino told Victor he thought he might be ready to put down some roots, Andy said. He lived on the road for a long time.

How long? Sergei meant ‘how old is he,’ because the singer didn’t look anywhere near as old as Sergei.

He’s my age. Forty-seven. Good hair, right?

Fuck you, Andy, Sergei said without heat. He’d started losing his hair in his thirties and was now mostly bald.

Andy, stifling laughter, said, You liked the show, though. He’s a good singer?

Excellent. Sergei’s tone was regretful. He’d almost decided that dating was too much trouble. He’d definitely decided that dating entertainers was a complete waste of time. But Corsetti was physically attractive, obviously talented, and smart enough to make a go of it as an entertainer for the long term. So if this particular friend thought – even at second hand – that there might be potential, and since this particular friend was now clearly and permanently off the market himself, then there really was nothing to lose by having coffee with the man. Or a drink. Or dinner. I suppose you want to know what happens.

Duh, yeah. Victor’s talking to Gino soon, or maybe he already has. Anyway, the guy might be expecting to see you again.

God damn it, Andy.

In the audience, Sergei. And honestly, I hope you hit it off. We want to go out and see his show and it would be cool to see you both at the same time.

A double date? What were they, teenagers? Sergei closed his eyes and sighed, trying not to laugh. It was impossible to be annoyed. Andy sounded too happy. That had always only been a Maybe. The kind of assessment resulting from long days during long weeks on the road, when a person got lonely and hungry and looked around for someone who was a possibility if the need got too strong. It never had, for the two of them. Sergei had been the dance captain on that tour, Andy a member of the chorus; hooking up would have been politically incorrect at best. So all it had come to was a few late nights in hotel bars, laughing over drinks, with a hug before they went to their separate rooms. Andy was the oldest dancer in the company. It was only natural that they’d had things to talk about. Sergei got his mind back on track, remembering the mellow baritone, the perfect pitch, and the eloquent phrasing of Gino Corsetti. I’ll go to the show again.

Good. Keep me posted.

You too. Sergei disconnected, and went to have a word with Gypsy about what kind of fish she’d like for dinner.

***

Around the same time, Gino Corsetti was listening to his friend Victor telling him a little too much about the past year. It wasn’t so much that Gino didn’t want to hear it, as that he was envious. There, he said it, if only to himself. He didn’t like admitting it. He’d known Victor for a few years; they’d done a play together in Los Angeles in 2011, during summer hiatus from Victor’s TV series. As usual, Gino had lived in a hotel. As usual, he’d gone looking for company. At the time, Victor had been securely closeted. Gino hadn’t even been positive the man was gay. But last year he was out, and Gino was in town for another thing, and they went on an actual date. A really good date, that had included a very good kiss, and that might have gone further if Victor hadn’t confessed that he was already in love with someone else.

That someone was, of course, Andy Martin. Gino’s age, a former Broadway dancer, a photographer, tall and dark and gorgeous and more talented than any one person had a right to be, and also the person fucking Victor Garcia now. Gino thought he might be forgiven a little envy.

He was also a little confused, because what Victor seemed to be telling him was that they – he and Andy – had sent a friend to see Gino’s show, and that friend had been in touch to ask about Gino. A friend who lived and worked in Las Vegas. A friend who was an appropriate age, and gay, and single. A friend named Sergei Kotov.

Gino was going to Google the man as soon as he was off the phone. At the moment, what he wanted most to know was, Are you saying he’s interested?

Andy says he’s like a cross between Baryshnikov and Tommy Lee Jones. If he wasn’t interested, he would have sent a text saying No, not a text saying Explain.

That was fair enough. The description was hard to picture. What does he look like?

Five ten, one seventy, blue eyes, mostly bald. Andy says Sergei is a better dancer than he is.

"A better dancer than Andy?" Gino had only seen the one thing, a tango Andy and Victor danced together the previous year. It made an impression.

And he’s fifty-three. Victor added that because he wasn’t sure if Gino preferred older men or younger, or actually whether he even had a preference. All Victor really knew about Gino’s taste in men was that he’d had a taste for Victor, and thought Andy was smoking hot, but that wasn’t helpful because almost everybody thought that. Victor certainly did. He got his mind back on track. Is that too old for you?

No. Gino preferred men his age or a little older. That was part of his problem: as he’d grown older without finding – or choosing – a long-term partner, almost every man he’d found attractive had been coupled. He thought for a few seconds. Is he coming to the show again?

That’s the idea. Victor waited a second. If he offered to buy you a drink, would you go for it?

Have you met this guy?

No, but Andy says he’s smart, he’s got a sense of humor, and he doesn’t dish out any bullshit. Sounds kind of like you.

Gino smiled. Thanks. I’d have a drink with the guy.

Great. We’re going to try to get out to Vegas in June to see your show. Take care of those pipes.

Yeah, yeah. Give my regards to that lucky bastard. He disconnected while Victor was laughing.

***

It was two weeks before Gino spotted Kotov in the audience. It had to be him: right size, right lack of hair,