by Alexa Land
I admitted, “To be perfectly honest, I’d worked myself into a near panic over the whole online sex thing, so I’m all for talking instead. I don’t know how to have cyber sex. I don’t even know if people still call it that.”
“Yeah, me neither.” After a pause, he said, “I don’t want to unload all my problems on you, so let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your day.”
“I sat next to Death on the bus this evening. The auld Grim Reaper himself! I should’ve gotten a selfie with him. You know what was surprising?” I busted out my best Kermit impersonation and said, “He talked like this.”
Ignacio grinned a little and said, “I always imagined he’d sound like James Earl Jones.”
“That’d be great! The Grim Reaper shows up to escort you to the hereafter, and he’s like,” I attempted my best Darth Vader impression, complete with heavy breathing, “Cameron, I am your father. Also, you’re going straight to hell, because you’re the worst Catholic in the universe.” In my normal voice, I added, “It’d take the sting out of dying, I tell you what.”
I was happy when he chuckled. “That’s literally the worst Darth Vader I’ve ever heard, and I once saw a six-year-old girl do an impression of him.”
“Like you could do better!”
He lowered his voice and said, “Come to the dark side. We have cookies.” It was dead-on.
My mouth fell open, and I exclaimed, “Wow! How did you do that?”
“I’ve always had an ear for voices. Languages, too. I’ve taught myself to speak six of them.”
“You’re extraordinary. I mean, I already knew that, but this just adds to it.”
“I’m sure you have things you’re good at, too.”
“Yeah, but not like that. I always excelled in science, but being able to recite the periodic table from memory is both boring and hardly on par with teaching yourself half a dozen languages.” I paused before admitting, “Although, there is one thing I can do.”
“Show me.”
“It’s nerdy. I shouldn’t even have mentioned it.”
Ignacio smiled at me. “Too late now. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He really didn’t have to twist my arm, since I’d been secretly hoping to impress him with my only talent. I said, “Alright. Give me a minute,” and retrieved my most prized possession from the closet.
I perched on the edge of the couch and carefully lifted my violin from its case, along with the slender bow. Even though I’d tuned it just that morning, I rested the instrument on my shoulder and made a few minor adjustments. Then I grinned self-consciously at Ignacio and began to play.
The moment he recognized the melody to the pop hit ‘Despacito’, he laughed delightedly. He watched me with a look of wonder as the song progressed, and when I reached the end, he applauded and exclaimed, “That was amazing!”
“Thanks. And now you know I was a mega-nerd as a kid. Picture this skinny little red-haired boy running around with a violin and his science books. Nothing’s changed, really. I just got taller and filled out some.”
“Will you please play something else for me?”
I grinned and returned the violin to my shoulder, then played my rendition of Bruno Mars’ ‘When I Was Your Man.’ Ignacio looked awestruck. When I finished, he smiled and said, “You’re absolutely brilliant.”
I carefully placed the violin and bow back in the case as I said, “Thanks for the compliment, and for taking the time to listen. I haven’t performed for anyone since I was in high school.”
“You obviously still play regularly, though.”
“Almost every day.”
“Promise you’ll play for me next time we’re together.”
“I’d love to.” We watched each other for a few moments through the computer screen, and I asked, “What upset you today, Ignacio?”
He paused before saying, “I went to a party tonight. It was at the home of a famous artist who I’ve admired for years, and I was so flattered when he invited me. But then, I soon realized he was only interested in what I could do for his career. The art world is fickle, and his paintings are considered passé now, while mine have been garnering attention. He wanted some of that spotlight.”
“He sounds like an asshole.”
“But I’m no better,” Ignacio said. “Nearly everyone at the party was involved in the art world in one way or another, and all night, I was ingratiating myself to gallery owners, and art dealers, and people in the media. Everyone was doing the same thing, just trying to use each other to further their careers. I was disgusted with myself when I realized I was just like them.”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. That’s just how you play the game, in virtually any business. You make mutually beneficial connections.”
“But I feel like I’m just taking from people, all the time, and never giving anything back.”
“What are you talking about? You’re doing that huge mural project for free, to give back to the community.”
“That’s a disaster, by the way. The director of the community center hates everything I do, so I keep having to make changes. At this rate, I’ll be stuck here for months trying to please him.”
I frowned and said, “How can he be so ungrateful, especially when you’re volunteering your time?”
“His board of directors wanted me to do this, not him. It’s safe to say he’s not a fan. Anyway, it was just a depressing day, between his attitude, and the party, and the time of year.”
I asked, “What do you mean by the time of year?”
“It’s the start of El Dia de los Muertos, a three-day celebration here in Spain. People gather at the graves of their loved ones with flowers, and with food and drink, but it’s not somber, as you might imagine. It’s actually a celebration of life and a time for families to come together. That’s why it feels so lonely, because I’m always on the outside looking in.”
I asked gently, “What happened to your family?”
“I was raised by a single mom. Her family disowned her when she got pregnant in high school, so it was just Mama and me. She died when I was fifteen, and I was on my own after that.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He studied the carpeting, and his voice was rough when he murmured, “It was a long time ago.”
I would have given anything to be with him right then, so I could put my arms around him. There was another way I could help though, and I said, “Let’s do our own Day of the Dead celebration, right now. Find something to drink a toast.” He reached off to the right and produced a half-empty bottle of wine, and I said, “Perfect. I’ll be right back.”
I jumped up and searched my apartment, and about a minute later, I returned with a silk flower, a bottle of beer, and a lit candle. I slid my laptop back a few inches and placed the candle and flower in front of it on the coffee table. Then I asked, “What’s your mother’s name?”
“Christina.”
I raised the beer and said, “To Christina. I know you’re looking down from heaven right now at your gorgeous, talented, amazing son and that you’re so proud of him.”
“To you, Mom.” He took a drink directly from the wine bottle while I sipped my beer.
“What was she like?”
“She was kind, and beautiful, and the best mom I could ever ask for. We were always broke, but it didn’t matter. Our apartment was full of love, and art, and music, so it felt like we had everything we needed. Even when we were barely scraping by, she still made sure I had paper and paint, and she hung my artwork on every wall.” He took another drink from the bottle and said, “I remember she was always singing along to the radio or her tapes. Her favorite singer was Tracy Chapman, and Mom played her cassettes so much that she wore them out.”
“I actually know one of her songs.” I took my violin and bow from the case and thought for a moment, and then I started playing a song called ‘Fast Car.’
When I finished, I looked up at Ignacio. A tear tumbled down h
is cheek, and he whispered, “Thank you. She would have loved that, and you.”
I returned the violin to its case again and said, “I really wish I was there with you.”
“So do I.”
“Come on, let’s go to bed.” I reached over the back of the couch and unplugged my computer.
“It’s not even 7 p.m. in San Francisco.”
“But it’s nearly 4 a.m. there.”
“I don’t want to say good night yet.”
“You don’t have to,” I told him. “I’m coming with you.”
We both carried our laptops to bed and plugged them in before sliding under the covers. I said, “That looks like a nice hotel.”
“I decided to treat myself, under the theory that it would make being here feel like a vacation instead of work-related exile.”
“Good call.”
We curled up on our sides facing the screens, and after a moment he said, “Can I ask a favor? It’s kind of a big one.”
“Of course.”
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot over the last few weeks, and I really need to move out of Ollie Caravetti’s apartment. I kept putting it off, partly because I wasn’t sure I wanted to commit to getting my own place and staying in San Francisco. He’s been incredibly generous with me, but I can’t keep taking from him. In fact, I really should have vacated the apartment before I left on this trip. Since I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here, I wanted to ask if you’d empty it for me.”
“No problem. It won’t take long, since there’s almost nothing in it. Where can I get a key, and what do you want me to do with your stuff?”
“Ollie can let you in. There are a couple of local charities that will pick up donations, so maybe you could call them for the bed, couch and dishes. I just want to keep my art supplies and the painting I made of you. As far as my makeshift bar, keep the alcohol for yourself or dump it, your choice.”
I asked, “And the paintings in the coat closet?”
“If I asked you to burn them for me, would you?”
“There’s no way I could do that.”
“Then will you keep them for me until I get back? Just make sure Ollie doesn’t see them.”
“Alright. I bet he’d love them, though.”
“He would, and that’s why I don’t want him to see them. Those paintings are the best work I’ve ever done, so he’d probably pressure me to display them. I told you why I don’t want to do that.”
“Consider it done.”
Ignacio pulled a pristine, white blanket over his shoulder and said, “I’m asking too much. This will be a big job, and it’s really not your responsibility.”
“It’s fine. I’m happy to help.”
“You sure?” When I nodded, he touched the screen and said, “Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
He watched me for a few moments before saying, “I’m sorry I was such a mess tonight. I promise to be more cheerful next time we video chat.”
“Please don’t ever feel you have to put up a façade with me. And for the record, I thought tonight was pretty great.”
“You’re such a good man, Cameron.”
“Are you going to be alright?”
He nodded. “Tonight helped a lot. Thank you for listening.”
“Any time.” After a moment, I asked, “Are you still planning to return to San Francisco when you finish the mural project? It seems like there’s not much to bring you back here.” I found myself holding my breath while I waited for his answer.
“Definitely. I’ll just stay in a hotel while I decide what to do long-term.” I exhaled slowly.
We talked for another half-hour, until he drifted off to sleep. I studied the gorgeous curve of his full lips and traced a wayward tendril of hair that fell across his forehead. When he started to snore lightly, I grinned. It was surprisingly endearing.
After a minute, I got up and began cleaning my apartment. When Ignacio returned to the city, hopefully he’d be spending time here, and I wanted to make it nice for him. Actually, I wanted to make it nice for both of us.
Chapter Four
Two Weeks Later
I stepped over a charred beam and sighed. Detective Seth Galloway followed me across the rubble and muttered, “People must think we’re really fucking stupid. As if we wouldn’t know this was arson within thirty seconds of arriving on the scene.”
He wasn’t wrong. The business owner had claimed an electrical fire burned down his restaurant. Come on. We could still smell the accelerant in the air, beneath the lingering odors of smoke and melted plastic.
I said, “Let’s just make sure the forensics team dots every ‘i’ and crosses each ‘t’. It’d piss me off if this asshole got off on a technicality.”
“I was just about to check in with them.” My phone buzzed in my pocket, and Galloway smiled at me through his thick, red beard. “You’re worse than my fifteen-year-old daughter with the never-ending text alerts.” I shot him a look, and he said, “Hey, it’s all good. You’ve been in a much better mood these past six weeks, so obviously regressing to your teen years is working for you.”
I tried to hide my grin and headed for the door, while Galloway veered left and intercepted the two guys in coveralls who were labeling plastic evidence bags. Once I reached the parking lot, I pulled off my latex gloves and blue fabric shoe covers and checked my messages. Ignacio had texted: I need you to call me in ten minutes. I’m hiding in the restroom of a fancy restaurant, because I’m having dinner with Satan.
I replied with ‘you got it’ and checked the time, then slid behind the wheel of Seth’s patrol car. The crime scene was on the outskirts of San Francisco, perched on a small bluff across the highway from Ocean Beach. I watched the waves rolling in for a while, then called Ignacio’s phone exactly ten minutes after he’d messaged me. He answered with, “Hola, Tia Maria.”
I smiled at that and said, “Aunt Maria? Really?”
His voice rose with fairly convincing apprehension, and he blurted, “Tia Maria, que pasa?”
I chuckled and asked, “Should I start screaming in a high-pitched voice to really sell it?” He said something to me in Spanish, and I told him, “You could have come up with a more original name for me. Next time, I want to be Tia Guadalupe Florencia.”
He spoke to his dinner companion in Catalan. While I couldn’t understand the words, the apologetic tone was unmistakable. He then started speaking to me reassuringly. I knew exactly when he exited the restaurant, because he started chuckling and said, “Guadalupe Florencia? Really? You almost made me laugh, which would have blown my ruse!”
“So, dinner with the gallery owner obviously went well,” I said as I loosened my tie. “You didn’t even last an hour.”
“He was despicable. I hate men who think a big bank account means they can have anyone they want.”
“So, I take it the one-man show he was offering you isn’t happening.”
“Since it came with the condition that I let him fuck me tonight, no. I can’t believe at this point in my career, I’m still dealing with shit like this.”
I said, “I’m surprised you didn’t throw a drink in his face and tell him to go to hell.”
“I was sorely tempted, but you can’t make enemies in this business. Everyone in Barcelona’s art community knows one another, and that asshole could ruin my reputation without breaking a sweat. Spread a few rumors, tell people I’m a diva and impossible to work with, and suddenly doors start to close.”
“I wish I could have been there. I’d have done a lot more than throw a drink in his face, since I for one have no reputation to ruin.”
“I wish you were here, and not just for that.” After a moment, he said, “Shit, where am I right now? This isn’t a part of Barcelona I know well.”
“Try to hail a cab, Ignacio. I don’t like the idea of you wandering the streets alone at night.”
“I’m switching to video, hang on.”
After a moment, an icon
appeared, and when I tapped it, his face filled my screen. I smiled at him and said, “Hello, gorgeous.”
“Hey, handsome. Are you in a police car?”
“Yeah. It’s parked in front of a crime scene.”
“Show me.” I panned the phone across the front of the burned out café, and when I turned the screen to face me again, he asked, “Was it arson?”
“No question.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“In cases like this, it’s usually the business owner, looking to cash in on a fat insurance policy. We’ll bring him in for questioning as soon as the forensic evidence comes back from the lab and see what he has to say for himself. Given how clumsy this was, I’m guessing he’ll easily incriminate himself.”
“Is it illegal to burn down your own business?”
“With very few exceptions, yes. He’ll probably be tried for insurance fraud and criminal endangerment.”
“Sounds like an open-and-shut case.” I nodded, and Ignacio grinned and said, “You’re disappointed.”
“Just annoyed. Do you know how much paperwork this shit generates?”
“Yes, because you’ve shown me the stack on your desk. But you are disappointed, because it’s not a juicy mystery to sink your teeth into.”
“Oh believe me, the last thing I want is a smarter criminal. When they’re stupid like this one, it cuts down on the number of hours my department has to waste before putting the case to bed.”
“I like it when you talk cop. By the way, here’s what I wanted to show you when I suggested we switch to video.” He held his phone at arm’s length, so I could see both him and his surroundings. The street he was on was bustling with pedestrians and lined with high-end shops. His grin turned teasing, and he said, “See? You don’t have to worry about me, out all by myself at nine p.m. on a Thursday.”
“You look amazing. Is that a new shirt?” It was royal blue and incredibly sexy on him.