Once Burned

by Alexa Land

  “It is. I made myself go shopping, since I’ve had to do so much schmoozing on this trip and my wardrobe wasn’t up to the task.”

  “Well, that color really suits you.”

  “Gracias.”

  “Did you leave the restaurant before dinner? If so, you should stop somewhere for a meal.”

  He smiled at me and said, “You’re such a mother hen! I never should have told you I sometimes forget to eat.”

  “I can’t help it. I just want to take care of you, Ignacio.”

  His expression softened, and he touched the screen on his phone. “I wish I was back there.”

  “Me, too.”

  He sighed and said, “This stupid job at the community center is never going to end, not with that tyrant in charge of the project. He hated my latest round of changes, even though I took his suggestions.”

  I asked, “Is this another instance of playing nice for the sake of your reputation, instead of telling that asshole where to shove it?”

  “It’s a case of me being an idiot. I’ve never worked on a project like this before. Usually, I paint what I want, and people buy it or they don’t. If I’d felt more confident in what I was doing, I would have set some ground rules before this even began. But, vive y aprende.”

  “Live and learn?”

  “Precisamente.”

  “It’s not too late to tell that guy to go to hell. The pictures you sent me of the murals blew me away, Ignacio. They’re absolutely brilliant! Who cares what some paper-pushing manager thinks?”

  “You really like them?”

  “God yes!”

  He said, “Thanks. I needed to hear that, after all the negative feedback.”

  “How much do you have left to do?”

  “Who knows? All the murals are completed, so it’s just a question of how much he’ll keep telling me to change.”

  Seth and the forensics team began to filter out of the building, and I said, “I’d better go. Don’t forget to eat something.”

  “Mira.” He turned the phone toward a fancy bakery and said, “I’m about to go in there and buy myself something, so you don’t have to worry, Mother Hen. Sadly, they won’t have pancakes, but I can make do with some lovely Xuxos de crema.”

  “I have no idea what that is, but I hope you enjoy it. Talk to you soon, Ignacio.” He blew me a kiss before he disconnected. I couldn’t even attempt to hide my smile from my coworkers as I got out of the car.

  *****

  A couple of hours later, I met Olivio Caravetti at the apartment Ignacio had been using. As he unlocked the door, he asked, “Have you talked to my boy Iggy lately?”

  Ollie turned to me and pushed his black-framed glasses further up the bridge of his fairly large nose. He’d always reminded me of the little old man from an animated movie called ‘Up’ with his short stature, stocky build and thick, white hair. But that was in appearance only, because Ollie was a true original. He was probably around eighty, but he still rode motorcycles, was passionate about art, and worked tirelessly to support the LGBTQ community along with his wife, Stana Dombruso. I thought he was a remarkable individual.

  I adjusted my grip on a bundle of flattened boxes and told him, “Just today, actually.”

  “How’d he seem to you?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because Iggy never tells me when there’s a problem. He always says everything’s fine, but it’s obvious sometimes that he’s just telling me what he thinks I want to hear. When I spoke to him last weekend, it seemed like something was bothering him, but he claimed everything was hunky dory. I don’t know why he can’t just level with me.”

  “He probably doesn’t want to worry you.”

  “Is there something to worry about?”

  I followed him into the apartment and said, “Not really. He’s been busy meeting with a lot of people in the local art community. I guess you know that, since you set up most of those meetings.”

  “What about the mural project?”

  “Honestly, he’s been a bit frustrated, because he and the manager at the community center don’t see eye-to-eye.”

  “Now, why wouldn’t he just tell me that?”

  “Maybe Ignacio doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, since you arranged that job for him.”

  Ollie considered that as I cut the plastic ties around the boxes with my pocket knife. Finally, he said, “He’s a good kid, and the community center should be damn grateful for the work he’s doing, for free no less. He sent me pictures of the murals, and they’re goddamn brilliant! Years from now, that whole building will be declared a national monument, just because of those paintings.”

  I said, “I’m glad he has such a strong supporter in you.”

  “Iggy’s like a son to me. There’s a very sweet young man under that rock star exterior. And talk about talented! I owned a gallery for damn near half a century and watched all kinds of artists come and go through the years, so believe me when I say he’s something special. He was already fantastic when I met him a few years ago, and he just keeps pushing himself to become even better. I mean, would you look at this!” Ollie crossed the room to the painting Ignacio had done of me six weeks ago, during the one night we’d shared together. As he leaned in close to study the details, he said, “This is genius-level stuff right here. It should be in a museum!”

  “He really is gifted, but I’m glad that one’s staying in his private collection, for obvious reasons.”

  Ollie nodded in agreement. “I can see this painting is something personal to both of you. Not just because you’re naked in bed, of course, but because of that look in your eyes. Things are hot and heavy between the two of you, am I right?”

  Suddenly, that painting felt way too revealing. “We don’t actually know each other all that well,” I murmured embarrassedly as I pulled a roll of packing tape from the pocket of my trench coat and started to assemble the boxes. “We only spent a few hours together before he left the country.”

  “And how many texts and phone calls have you exchanged while he’s been gone? Given the way he talks about you, I’m guessing it’s a lot.”

  It was. We’d gotten in the habit of messaging all throughout the day and calling regularly, despite the time difference. “Well, he doesn’t really have anyone in Barcelona, so….”

  Ollie gestured at the painting. It felt a little like he’d walked in on us in bed together. “It makes me happy, this thing that’s happening between the two of you. I was at that bachelor auction when he bid on you, and it gave me a glimmer of hope. I know he’s lonely, but Iggy’s always been afraid of letting anyone get close to him. I’m not sure why that is. Finally though, he found someone he’s interested in! Hopefully you’ll have the good sense to hold on to him, because men like Ignacio Mondelvano don’t come along every day.”

  Just then, I noticed the lube and condoms on the far side of the mattress and cleared my throat, as if that would dislodge my embarrassment. I concentrated on folding the boxes and mumbled, “Neither of us is looking for anything serious right now.”

  “So what? If you’re taking a walk on the beach and stumble across a treasure chest in the sand, you don’t say, ‘I wasn’t looking for treasure, so I’m just gonna leave it there.’ That’s some cockamamie thinking! I know Iggy had to leave right after you met. I also know you probably thought you were just gonna have a little fun when you jumped in the sack with him. I’m not a total square, I know how things work! But I also know this.” He leaned close to the canvas and pointed at the intense gaze in those painted eyes. “That right there? That’s a connection, and that shit doesn’t happen every day.”

  “You’re right. But it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

  “Things are only as complicated as you make them.” I started to argue, but Ollie held up his hand and said, “Look, I think I know what happened to you a year ago, and I get that it’s probably pretty tough to move past something like that. But Iggy deserves a chance.”


  I frowned and asked, “What did Dante tell you?”

  “Almost nothing, but I overheard some things and pieced together a lot of the story after Steven Messina tracked down Dante and tried to kill him. I figured out Messina got involved with you to keep tabs on the arson investigation, and that you unwittingly led him to Dante. I hope you don’t feel guilty about that. From what I heard, Messina had everyone fooled. How were you to know he was the arsonist?”

  Hearing that name was like a punch to the gut. I broke eye contact and whispered, “I never meant to endanger Dante.”

  “I know, son. I know. Shit, I’ve said too much, and I can see I’ve upset you. Look, I’m gonna get out of your hair so you can do what you need to do for Iggy. I’ll leave you my spare keys to the apartment, alright?” He took them from his pocket and placed them on the arm of the couch. “Take all the time you want here, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.” I murmured a thank you as he left the apartment.

  Steven Messina’s face loomed in my mind. I really didn’t want to remember, but there he was, with that quick smile and those dark eyes that lit up when he looked at me. Even now, I still couldn’t see the tell-tale signs of all those lies and deceit, no matter how hard I tried.

  How the fuck could I have been so totally wrong about someone? The person I’d let into my life and my bed had seemed kind and innocent, but he was actually a psychotic criminal who’d attempted mass murder. He’d sealed Dante and dozens of his family members in a club on the night of Ollie’s bachelor party and set it on fire, because of some ancient feud between the families. Later on, when Dante was close to discovering the truth about the arsonist’s identity, Messina went after him with the intent of gunning him down in cold blood.

  That last part happened while Messina and I were involved. I’d been so goddamn happy right before the truth was revealed. I thought I’d finally found a great guy who cared about me and thought I was something special, but it was all a mountain of lies. How could I have been so gullible? I was a trained police officer, not a starry-eyed kid!

  The whole thing had left me damaged. I knew that for a fact. Not only was it tough to trust other people, it was nearly impossible to trust myself after that massive lapse in judgement.

  My confidence took such a hit that it affected my job. I began second-guessing myself. When my boss noticed the change in me, he assigned Seth Galloway as my partner. Seth wasn’t a trained arson investigator, but he was well-versed in procedure and chain of command, and he acted as my safety net. Luckily, Seth was also a damn nice guy who never pointed out the obvious: that I was on the verge of becoming a liability to my department.

  Damn it, I needed to stop thinking about that shit. It had taken me months to climb out of my pit of anger, hurt, and self-loathing. I wasn’t willing to let myself slide right back in.

  I decided I needed a drink to take the edge off, and fortunately, Ignacio’s liquor supply rivaled that of most bars. I went to the kitchen and found a half-empty bottle of good whiskey among the vast assortment, took a swig, and brought it with me when I returned to the sofa. On impulse, I dragged the soft, dark blue blanket off the bed and wrapped myself up in it.

  It often surprised me, the way scents could carry such vivid memories. I pulled up the blanket and breathed deeply. Just like that, I was transported back to the night Ignacio and I had shared. I remembered the feeling of his hands on my body, the taste of his mouth, and the sound of his voice with that sultry, almost melodic accent.

  That night was the best I’d felt in a very long time. Maybe it was the best I’d ever felt. Ignacio was like the answer to a prayer, except I’d given up on praying a very long time ago. He fascinated me and left me longing for more.

  I wasn’t a total idiot, though. He had a mask inked onto his body, amid the symbols he chose to represent himself. Clearly, he was a man with secrets.

  What was he hiding? Was it his vulnerability? His loneliness? The pain that had driven him to think about ending his life all those years ago? Or was it something altogether different?

  It would be easy enough to go in search of answers. After all, I worked for the San Francisco Police Department. A few taps on the keyboard in my office, and all of his public records would be displayed for me.

  But I’d chosen not to do that, for one simple reason: I needed to know I still had it in me to trust not just him, but anyone. God, I wanted to trust Ignacio. I couldn’t deny that I was falling for him, despite the fact that we’d spent the last six weeks on different continents.

  Or maybe that had actually worked to our advantage. This thing between us could so easily have become all about sex. But instead, we’d spent a month and a half talking, getting to know each other, and establishing a friendship. It felt like we’d created a foundation we could build on.

  I took another drink from the whiskey bottle, and then I sighed. I could practically hear my father’s deep voice with his thick brogue: You’re all wrapped up in your head again, sonny boy. Climb on out of there and join the real world. I used to hate it when he said that. I’d been a quiet kid who spent a hell of a lot of time lost in thought. To him, it was a huge character flaw.

  He was wrong about that, but it did have a time and place, and I had work to do. The furniture was going to be picked up soon, and I was expected at Dante’s house for dinner in just a few hours. It really was time to get out of my head and back to reality.

  I stripped the mattress and packed up the bed linens, except for the blue blanket, which I spread out in the middle of the living room. Then I retrieved the paintings from the coat closet and stacked them in the center of it, along with the painting of me. I wrapped them like a present, tied them up with the twine I’d brought for just that purpose, and leaned the bundle against the wall near the front door. I hated the fact that Ignacio planned to destroy the self-portraits, but that was his call, not mine. While they were in my care though, I planned to cherish them.

  I pocketed the lube and condoms before folding up the easel, then went to pack up the kitchen. All but two drawers were empty. One held cutlery and cooking implements. The other was basically a junk drawer. For someone with very few material possessions, he seemed to have a habit of holding on to some pretty random stuff, the sorts of things most people would throw away. This included several cheap cars and toys that looked like prizes from an arcade, slips of paper from fortune cookies, and maybe two dozen pads of paper from hotels all over the world. The latter were totally filled with sketches. I added the entire contents of the drawer to the box I’d be taking back to my apartment and packed up the dishes and glassware with the rest of the donations.

  The crew from the charity-run thrift shop rang the buzzer a few minutes later. After they hauled away the furniture and housewares, I finished packing and did a final lap around the apartment. I was left with the paintings, a few art supplies and an easel, two big boxes of liquor, the bed linens, and some odds and ends. I called a cab and grabbed the first load to carry down to the lobby.

  *****

  As soon as I got home, I lined the apartment with Ignacio’s gorgeous paintings, grabbed the blanket, and found the whiskey among the liquor stash before carrying the box with his kitchen drawer treasures to my recliner. After I put my feet up and dropped my shoes onto the floor, I arranged the toys on my side table and stacked the notepads on my lap. Then I took a long drink of whiskey and sat back to revel in Ignacio’s amazing sketches.

  Almost all of them had been rendered in ink, and each was a miniature masterpiece. He had a habit of drawing the world around him in intricate detail. There were sketches of hotels, bars, airports, parks, and cafés from all over the world. I recognized a few landmarks, placing some of the drawings in Paris, London, Rome, and L.A. The drawings didn’t always correspond to the hotel locations printed on the notepads, suggesting he saved them up and carried the pads with him from city to city.

  There were a lot of character studies, too. For the most part, they seemed to
be of strangers in public places: a young woman reading in a café, a pair of kids laughing as they sat in a busy airport, an old man selling newspapers on an urban street. But there were a few familiar faces too, including Ollie and his wife.

  I spent a good hour studying the drawings, and while I did that, I polished off the remaining whiskey. By the time I finished going through the last pad of paper, I was pretty drunk and fairly depressed. The overall message I got from those sketches was that Ignacio never stayed in one place for long. Since he’d given up his apartment in San Francisco, what would keep him here? Me?

  Come on. What did I have to offer a man like that? Sure, we had a connection, but I probably wasn’t anything more than a fuck buddy to him.

  Did I want it to be more than that?

  Okay, so clearly bringing all his stuff into my home had been a mistake, since all it did was remind me he wasn’t here. I vowed to pack it all up and stick it in my storage closet down in the basement…tomorrow. For one night, I decided to go ahead and surround myself with Ignacio’s things and fully admit to myself that I missed him.

  Eventually, I remembered my friend was expecting me for dinner. I checked the time and pulled my phone from my suit jacket, which also reminded me I hadn’t bothered to change when I got home. Dante answered with, “You’d better not be calling to cancel.” We had a standing engagement every Thursday night: dinner with Dante, his husband Charlie, and their two foster kids, Jayden and Joely. I wasn’t proud of the fact that I made excuses to get out of it at least once a month.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot what night it was and polished off a very nice bottle of eighteen-year-old Jameson. Now I’m a bit too sloshed to get my ass out of this chair.”

  “You alright?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “How are you really?”

  After a moment, I admitted, “Been better.”

  I just left it at that. I wasn’t about to tell Dante I missed a man I’d only spent a single night with, because that made me sound ridiculous. It was tough to even admit it to myself. But Ignacio had become important to me. He was on my mind all the time, and the calls, video chats, and even just his random texts were the absolute highlight of my day.