Foothills Pride Stories, Volume 1

by Pat Henshaw

  Jeff was more pragmatic about the problem.

  “We don’t care about why. We just want to find the holes and fix them,” he told me one night over dinner. “I’m not sure there is one culprit. Just a lot of little things were left unchecked for a long time. You aren’t completely broke and ready for Chapter 11. We just need to get your company back in line, that’s all.”

  “Who would have thought a Mason would save us?” I groused. “Not that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done.”

  “You know, you’ve mentioned this ‘because I’m a Mason’ thing a couple of times. What did the Masons ever do to you?” he asked softly.

  I explained about my father’s jealousy of his dad and about my father’s love of his family home. His eyes were huge by the time I finished.

  As I looked at him over the table, it hit me how handsome he was. I again had the itchy feeling the earth had slipped a little under my feet. Something was happening.

  “You know I didn’t have anything to do with your dad,” he said softly. Even in the bright light of the Rock Bottom, he looked good.

  “Naw. I know.” I put my hand up to run over my face, nearly gouging myself in the eye with my fork. Sheepishly, I put down the fork and peeked at him. He wasn’t laughing at me, but looked concerned.

  “The funny part,” he said even more softly as his hand crept toward mine on the tabletop, “is my dad envied yours.”

  I raised my brows. What? Envied us?

  “He only had one son, while your dad had four. And his son didn’t want to have anything to do with the family business, while the four of you were out on jobsites almost in diapers.” He huffed and shook his head.

  I could have told him we were there because we had to be. As we got older and older, our father kept letting more and more of the business slide. After my youngest brother, Dominic, died, the old man might as well have too. It took me a year of floundering around, but I was taking charge of the business as quick as I could. Other guys were playing football, dating, goofing off. Me? I was CEO at sixteen. Then I remembered Jeff hadn’t had it easy either. His dad had died in an accident a few years ago. Last year?

  “Yeah, I was sorry to hear about your dad.” I watched his hand fold quietly over mine. He gave my hand a squeeze, and I saw stars. My breath caught. When I looked up, he was staring at me, and I couldn’t read his face. Nobody’d ever looked at me like he was… like he was searching for the real me under the bulky body and unruly hair. What did it mean?

  When Lorraine came out to clear our plates and ask about dessert, Jeff’s hand disappeared back to his side of the table. By then I was shaking. What the fuck was going on with me?

  “Okay, I know you’re wanting your berry pie, Abe,” she said to me, her eyes twinkling for some reason. “But Bud’s made a carrot cake like no other. That’s what you’re getting tonight.”

  What she said should have made me happy, but since my whole world was topsy-turvy, it just made me uneasy. I wanted my regular pie. I frowned at her when Jeff spoke up.

  “Tell you what, Lorraine.” He gave her his thousand-watt smile. “How about if you bring us a slice of cake and a slice of the pie, and we’ll both eat off them?”

  My eyes met his as she beamed at us.

  “Okeydokey. Be right back.”

  As she scooted toward the kitchen, I asked Jeff, “What? Why’d you order the pie? You don’t usually order dessert.”

  He raised his hand as if to touch me, but I backed away. I couldn’t take any more of his touches tonight.

  “She was just trying to be nice and give you a treat. But you looked so disappointed and upset about not getting your favorite dessert. It was all I could think of to make both you and her happy.”

  He said it so reasonable I felt like a fool. Pie wasn’t all that important, was it?

  Then it hit me.

  “You really like to make everyone happy, don’t you?” I asked.

  His face reddened, but he answered with a short nod.

  “You do too,” he said softly.

  “Not like you. I just kinda arbitrate. Make sure everyone backs off from a confrontation. You want everyone happy.” It was an important difference.

  We ate the pie and cake in silence. Every once in a while, I’d feel him looking at me, but I didn’t meet his gaze. I felt like one of those bears wandering around in the wilderness you see in the nature specials. Nobody, including the bear, knows where the beast is going, so everyone backs away and just keeps waiting and watching to see what plays out.

  Before we left, Lorraine cornered me.

  “Abe, Bud and I were wondering if you could do us a favor.” She acted flustered, which for the Lorraine I’d known practically all my life was upsetting. Lorraine was a no-nonsense woman.

  “Sure. Whatever you need.” I glanced at Jeff, whose lips were tilted in a tiny smile.

  “It’s about Junior.” My head snapped back to look at her.

  “What about him?” Junior was their son, and as far as I knew was as stand-up as his parents. That something could be going on with him was more than upsetting. It was just wrong.

  She was shaking her head. “We don’t know what’s happening. He won’t tell us.” She looked away from me, then back again. “He asked Bud if he thought he could talk to you. Junior talk to you, I mean.”

  “Sure. No problem. I’d be happy to talk to him.” I didn’t ask if she had any clues because she would have said.

  I didn’t know what I’d say to the kid, but whatever the problem was, I was sure we could work it out.

  8

  BUD, LORRAINE, and I go way back, practically to birth. Even though this is a small community, I didn’t really get to know either of them until we were all in high school.

  High school was a gauntlet for me—a gauntlet with satellites. My day started at sunup, when I’d get breakfast together, my brothers up, lunches made, and everyone ready for school. I’d check on our father, but usually that was it for him. He was the grown-up. He should have been able to take care of himself.

  When I got to school, it was like I was a magnet or something. A bunch of kids would flock around me. Most of the time they didn’t talk, but just huddled around, following me to my locker and homeroom. Between classes I’d pick up a few of them again as I walked from room to room.

  The challenge for me during class, any class, was to stay awake. Usually I was so tired from working construction after school and then doing homework and the company books, I thought I’d drop. I didn’t have many friends. I didn’t have time to have friends. I had family. Besides, I knew everybody, and they knew me. We didn’t need to be friends, although sometimes all I wanted was time just to hang out. Thank God for the few times I could sneak away with Max to go fishing.

  Bud was one of my satellites. He started following me around in junior high. I got the feeling some of the other kids were picking on him, but I didn’t know it for a fact. What I did know was I’d reached six foot four and was shaving by ninth grade. One of the counselors pulled me aside when I didn’t shave for a couple of days and had started sporting a beard.

  “If you want to go to school here,” the very prissy Mr. Dent said, “you must be clean-shaven every day. No exceptions.”

  It wasn’t a discussion. So I shaved. And showered. And brushed my teeth. And I still looked like a big grumpy bear most of the time. A bear with satellites.

  Bud didn’t look then like he does now. He’s still short, but now he’s rotund, always walking around in a food-stained apron, a bandana around his forehead, and Birkenstocks on his feet. He’s a California penguin.

  In high school he was a collection of bones with a few sinews and muscles holding them together. I ate a lot, but Bud ate more. We never talked. We just existed, him walking next to me most of the day as we went from classroom to classroom.

  Around junior year, a rumor started that he and I were boyfriends. Didn’t bother me. People said stuff about the Behr clan all the time, most of i
t wrong. If I fought kids about what they said about me or my family, I’d have been fighting twenty-four seven. I just wanted to graduate and get high school out of my too-crowded day.

  Bud stood in front of my locker one afternoon as everyone was leaving around us.

  “Get out of the way.” I glared at him.

  “Abe, we need to talk.”

  I looked at him and then at my locker. I had to get some books out and put some books in. He had to get out of the way.

  “What do you want?” I shoved him aside as gently as I could. “I’m in a hurry. I have to get to the jobsite.”

  “I know.” He nodded.

  Of course he knew. I was working on his dad’s cafe.

  His dad had inherited some money, bought a beat-up road-stop cafe up in the mountains, and had Behr Construction remodeling it. We were doing it on the cheap, with Bud’s dad and a couple of his friends subbing for some of the Behr crew. I hadn’t seen Bud up there yet. Maybe Bud had a real life once he left school for the day? I didn’t know. I did know I’d be late getting to the site if he didn’t move and say what he had to say.

  “Okay. Yeah. What is it?” I’d made the book transfer and was now leaning on the closed locker. Time was ticking.

  He looked up at me. Licked his lips. Looked away. Looked at me again.

  “What is it?” I grumbled.

  At least he knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t hit him or do him any harm. He didn’t even flinch when I growled.

  He sighed.

  “Okay. Look. I gotta tell you. I’m straight. I’m not gay.” His shoulders slumped.

  That was it? What the fuck?

  “Okay. Good for you. Now I gotta run,” I said and patted him on the back. “See you tomorrow.”

  I met my brother Ben at the truck, where he again bugged me to let him drive. Shutting him down automatically, I thought about what Bud had said. Did he think his announcement would upset me? Why was he telling me at all? I’d heard about gay guys who had a hard time coming out to their family and friends, but I’d never heard of a straight guy coming out to anybody. I didn’t get it. I zoned out Ben’s complaining as I dropped him at the house and told him to do his homework. On the drive to the cafe site, I kept wondering what Bud’s real message had been.

  The next week Bud hooked up with Lorraine, or rather Lorraine latched on to him. Either way, she became one of my satellites too. Now we were a little bigger group of people walking down the hall together, nobody talking.

  Over the years, I’d been there for Bud and Lorraine, and they’d been there for me. It was as close to a real, long-lasting friendship as I’ve got. If I could help their son, I would. But I couldn’t figure out what the kid wanted with me.

  JUNIOR AND I met at Monique’s Bakery. Monique’s is my version of Nirvana. First, everything looks and smells and tastes wonderful there. I’ve been known to take a half hour to decide what to order. Not often, though, because nobody will put up with me just standing and salivating in front of the glass showcase. Second, I savor every bite at Monique’s, which means a simple lunch can last three or four hours, considering I tend to have more than one dessert.

  Junior wanted to meet there, so who was I to say no?

  I made an effort—I really did—to order quickly and then concentrate on what Junior wanted. It was hard because of all the lovely desserts yelling “Abe! Abe! Look at me! Me!” while I was sitting there. Finally, I moved us into the courtyard so I wouldn’t be so distracted.

  “Can you start over?” I asked when the clamoring desserts were almost out of earshot.

  Junior, who’d looked nervous from the get-go, now was shaking so hard, I should have been able to hear his bones rattling. He looked exactly like his father when we’d been in school together.

  “I need help,” he whispered. “I just need….”

  His voice trailed off as he stared at the tabletop. I was getting worried. Was he into drugs? What did I know about drugs? Nothing. I found out anybody on one of my crews used drugs and he was fired. His family complained, I suggested they get in touch with NA. The company wasn’t going to be responsible for a drug user on the job. What we did was too dangerous.

  “Okay. What’s the matter? Just spit it out. I don’t bite. I won’t judge. Just tell me.”

  He peeked up at me, drew a deep breath, and sat up straighter.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to turn into my dad,” he said in a rush.

  Huh? Okay. What did he mean?

  As I nodded, I waved my fingers in a “gimme more” gesture.

  “I love my dad,” he hurried to add. “I do. But I’ve seen the pictures. I mean, he started out short and skinny like me. Then he turned into the Pillsbury Doughboy.”

  If he hadn’t had so much tragedy in his voice, I would have laughed. But he was serious, almost despairing.

  “So you want me to…?” I couldn’t imagine. He wanted me to do a gene transplant on him? Not hardly.

  “I want to work at Behr Construction. I know I’m not old enough. If I worked for you, though, I’d put on muscle, not fat. I’d learn valuable skills. You wouldn’t even have to pay me. It’d be like going to the gym, only better.” He would have kept going, only I stopped him.

  “Okay. So what’s the problem?” Again, I couldn’t imagine. Why couldn’t Bud have asked me this?

  “My dad doesn’t want me to work anywhere but the restaurant,” he said glumly. He sighed. “He said I get enough exercise there, and you already have more than enough guys, what with family and all.”

  Yeah, he sounded just like Bud as he repeated his dad’s words.

  “But, you know, he and Mom feed me all the time while I’m working. And after rush hour, they want me to study, and they expect me to eat a snack, a huge snack. I don’t go outdoors, so I’m pasty white.” He stuck out his arm and pushed up the sleeve of his hoodie. Yup, pasty white. “I work out a little bit on Saturday and Sunday, but it’s not enough to get in shape. They want me to study and get good grades. I’m okay with studying. I just wanna… I just… I want to look like you and the guys in your family.”

  Big and shaggy? I almost laughed. The kid was serious, though, so I took him serious.

  “Sure. I have no problem with you working after school for an hour or two.”

  He brightened, but not as much as I thought he would.

  “Uh, could you do one more thing?”

  I just stared at him. Now what?

  “Could you talk my folks into saying yes?”

  From the way his eyes left my face, I could tell I was frowning. Damn. I didn’t want to get mixed up in his family business.

  “Please?” he muttered without looking at me. He might as well have given me puppy eyes.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  He bounded up, giving me a huge grin.

  “Thanks! Awesome! See you around!” I frowned. He didn’t back away. He knew me for the big pushover I am, and his smiled turned up to a thousand watts. “Oh yeah, and I’m gay. Don’t tell my folks, okay? Bye!”

  I sat blinking for a few minutes before his final words hit me.

  Why me? I wondered as I ordered a slice of carrot cake and another cup of coffee. Why me?

  9

  THE REST of the week, I ignored Jeff because every time I was around him, I felt a little more shaky. I wanted… I wanted… I wanted something, but I didn’t know what. So I backed off, giving myself time to figure out where my head was. I ignored his calls, instead texting him I couldn’t make it for dinner. I also avoided the cabin on the weekend.

  I knew where he was every minute, though, mostly because I kept up with his schedule and he was sending me reports. He was making the rounds of the sites we hadn’t visited together. The news he was gathering wasn’t good. He was working. I wasn’t.

  I was brooding.

  Jeff was seeing exactly what we had at the Winters’ place. It was like word had gone out from someone high up that it was okay to take home any supplies and materia
ls you wanted. Through Jeff and young cousins, I heard about relatives’ revamped kitchens and new room additions. Everything seemed to be pointing one way, to a relative going over my head.

  I had to either stop the theft or prepare for bankruptcy. I asked myself over and over what family loyalty meant and how far I was willing to go in its name. Was I really being loyal or was I being stupid?

  Then there was the matter of hate talk among my own blood. It was one thing to take our suppliers to the mat about it and it was another to let family take a slide.

  It was time for me to man up and save the company I’d spent most of my life building. It would cost me popularity and extended family. But the way I figured it, I’d gone the extra mile and gotten kicked in the balls for my trouble.

  Time to stand or slink, and I never slink.

  I also had to talk to Lorraine and Bud about Junior. If I’d been thinking clearly, one of the first things I would have suggested to Junior would have been to change his name. As long as he went by Junior, he wouldn’t be his own man and would stay under the control of his parents. He needed to make a small stand so they looked at him different, as their son growing up, not as their son the child.

  Since I knew Bud’s real name wasn’t Bud—it was Larry—I assumed Junior’s name was Larry too. Bud’s nickname came about because he was the shortest one in his family, the bud as it were. It was a little late for him to ask people to call him something else. Since nobody else was using the name Larry, it made sense for Junior to latch on to it. At least it made sense to me. He’d still be Junior, but a junior with a real name.

  Except for the possibility I could help Junior, I wasn’t happy. Seemed to me the people in the community I saw every day weren’t happy either.

  There was a lot of grousing everywhere I went about the “new” people taking over.

  “What do they want with us?” Mack Logan, the head of the painting company Behr hires to finish off our places, asked.

  “What do you mean?” More and more people kept asking me questions I had no answers for.