“I think it’s too much for me.” Lawrence did love the house; the only thing that marred it was his nosy next-door neighbor. “I’d also like to check with Mario, to see if he’d like to buy the shop.”
“Wait, what’s going on?” Harvey put his coffee down and turned to stare into Lawrence’s eyes.
“I’d like to retire and enjoy my life, or what’s left of it.” And I want to spend it without Curtis knowing what I did for a living.
“You just burned your hand. Your life isn’t over.” Harvey placed his hands on Lawrence’s knees.
“I know.” Lawrence hated lying. “I told Curtis that I’m retired and I own a few businesses. I felt like a shit getting in his car. He drives an SL Roadster.”
“So?” Harvey shrugged.
“A Mercedes. I fix them.” Lawrence motioned to himself. “You remember that?”
“All right, and?” Harvey rolled his hand forward.
“I lied.” Lawrence thought back to that moment. “I said I’d never been in one. I can’t bring myself to tell him what I do, or to let him know I have an identical Roadster in my garage. Or to let him know what little education I have under my belt.” Lawrence couldn’t believe how much everything was affecting him.
Harvey gripped Lawrence’s knees. “He’s not Jeffrey. You don’t know what he’ll say.”
Lawrence wiped tears from his eyes with his right hand. “We’ll find out tomorrow night. He’s coming over.” Lawrence placed his hands on top of Harvey’s. “Look, friend, I just need it to be a thing, so if I sell before stuff gets really serious, then I’ll be good as gold.” What he doesn’t know about my past, my time before him, won’t hurt either of us.
Harvey shook his head, lifted his hands up, and pulled out his calculator. “So, you want to put this place up and offer the shop to Mario?”
“Yes, and sell the Metropolitan.” Lawrence looked out the sliding door at the little car he’d owned since the seventies.
“Really? You love that thing. I mean, I even enjoyed driving it.” Harvey glanced out the window.
Lawrence sighed. “Everything’s just so old.”
“You’re old,” Harvey laughed. “But I’ll check with collectors.” He sighed and opened his briefcase. He pulled out a pad of paper and made notes. He motioned to the fluttering papers in the middle of the table. “What are those?”
“Those are prices of lofts on the Promenade. And prices of homes in the area,” Lawrence explained, as his phone buzzed and skittered across the patio table. He picked it up and laughed. He opened the phone and sent a response, which was quickly responded to.
“Is that…?” Harvey pointed with his pen.
Lawrence nodded. “Curtis…” He could feel his cheeks heat up. “Being sexual with me.”
“Is that why you look like you’re on fire?” Harvey smiled. “I can’t tell you the last time I blushed.”
“I texted him the exact same thing.”
“Your home is worth more than six of these lofts.” Harvey stood up and stopped in the doorway, looking at Lawrence. “I’ve got an old real estate pal. I’ll get him out here.” He shook his head and snapped a couple of photos. “Are you sure you want to give this up?”
Lawrence stood up and followed Harvey around. “I’m tired of the bitch next door, and if things get serious, I know that he’ll want to live in the loft. Wouldn’t it be easier to walk across the hallway than drive there?” He did like the house. Lawrence shook his head.
Harvey snapped photos of the architectural details along the flat ceilings, the living room fireplace with the concrete seat that ran the length of the wall, and the kitchen with the simple wood cabinets.
“Do you remember when that designer came over to get every detail down exact to the time period?” Lawrence pointed out the patio furniture too. “I even found this set at an antique store in Pasadena.”
“The Jacuzzi’s not midcentury,” Harvey pointed out.
“Well, no, but… it’s a perk,” Lawrence admitted.
“So this is the only modern thing? You couldn’t get someone to make this eyesore look like it was something out of the fifties?” Harvey laughed.
“When I got it, I could care less. I barely use it anymore.” Lawrence said.
“I think you need to take a break.” Harvey sent a text. “Take some time on the selling decision. The shop is one thing, but this was the party house.” Harvey leaned against the Jacuzzi.
“I’ve thought it over.” Lawrence looked over the fence into Biddle’s yard.
“But you’re basing it on two sex romps and a couples’ class,” Harvey said.
“You left the nerd over less,” Lawrence pointed out. “And it’s been a lot of sex.”
“And how did the nerd and I play out?” Harvey slipped his hand into the water.
“I’m just saying if it’s not Curtis, it’ll be someone else who doesn’t want all this shit to be bogged down with. And I must be getting careless in my old age because of these fears.”
“You burned your hand because you were thinking of Curtis’s ass and everything that entailed, not because you’re a doddering old fool.” Harvey bent to untie his shoes, unzipped, unbelted, and pulled off his pants. “Although the fool part I’ll believe, because you’re letting your dick think for you.”
Lawrence heard the splash and turned around. “Well, now Biddle won’t know what to think.” He caught the wet shirt that Harvey tossed to him and laughed. “What’s come over you?”
“I forgot to take off my shirt. I remembered that night I met the nerd, and, well, you need to have parties again.”
“Look, Harvey, I’ve made up my mind.” He ducked into the kitchen, tossed the wet shirt in the dryer and switched it on. “Ask Mario if I could be a silent investor.”
“I’ll do all the things that aren’t my job. I’ll find a real estate guy; I’ll look for a collector; but I draw the line at talking to Mario for you.” Harvey slid into the water.
“Why?” Lawrence sat on the chair and pulled off his shoes and socks, tried to roll up his jeans, said fuck it and pulled them off. He walked to the Jacuzzi in his blue briefs.
“Because you owe it to Mario. You’ve worked with him for twenty years—offer it as a goodwill gesture.” Harvey sat up and smiled. “You know, the only thing we’re missing is those plastic wineglasses.” He laughed.
Law stood up, in direct line with the back window that Mrs. Biddle was standing at. He took off his shirt and bent over as he pulled off his briefs, before sliding into the hot bubbling water, letting his wrapped hand rest on the edge of the tub.
“Well, I never!” sounded from the neighbor’s window.
Harvey and Lawrence shouted, “Maybe you should!” They both erupted in laughter.
“So, you don’t want to give it all away?” Harvey asked.
“I’d like to visit, maybe work in the office.” Lawrence stretched out in the hot water. “Not get dirty.”
Harvey ducked under the bubbles and spit water as he came back up. “Sorry, I can’t see you just sitting at that desk.”
“I’ll obviously wear more clothes,” Lawrence laughed.
“Seriously, I think you’re going too far. If he’s coming over tonight, he’ll see the house and the car, anyway.”
“He’s come over already. He’s seen both,” Lawrence admitted.
“And did he say he never wanted to see you again?” Harvey goaded.
“No… he just… well, he did say the house was beautiful.”
“It is beautiful. Young people love these types of houses,” Harvey gestured at the house.
“He lives in a loft on the Promenade in downtown Long Beach,” Lawrence pointed out.
“So, let me get this straight.” Harvey grinned. “You’re just taking a couples’ art class. This is not a move-in proposition. He’s spending the night. Why?” Harvey floated closer to Lawrence until their knees were touching.
“We’re going to the Getty Villa Saturday mornin
g. He’s coming here after his last twelve-hour shift.” Lawrence stood up. “Damn, I should have got towels.”
“You used to keep towels in the storage cabinet against the garage.” Harvey stood up too. “How do you keep that body with all the sugar you ingest?”
“I cleaned the cabinet this morning. The towels are for Curtis and me, for tonight, if he wants to go in.” Lawrence grinned. “And I run every day, and everything else I eat is healthy.”
“I’m not that bad.” Harvey patted his little belly.
“No, you’re still my little bear, Harv.”
“Do hot young men love little bears anymore?” Harvey retorted.
They got out of the water, half-hoping to catch the eye of Mrs. Biddle, but her curtains were drawn. It was a quick jaunt to the back porch where Lawrence’s phone was vibrating its way off the table, and Harvey caught it and glanced down.
“Apparently you make him think dirty thoughts at work? Sounds like you two fit well together.” Harvey handed him the phone.
Lawrence took the phone, sent a quick message, and handed a towel to Harvey. “Your shirt will be dry in a few minutes,” he responded, and when the phone buzzed again, he smiled.
“I think you’re making more of this than you need to.” Harvey patted Lawrence on the shoulder before he wrapped the towel around his waist. “I also love your bath sheets.”
“Would you mind at least asking Mario if he’d be interested in becoming partners? I’ll give him fifty-one percent.”
“No, but I’ll draw up the paperwork for you. Like I said, this needs to be brought up by you. I put my foot down on breaking up that great team.” Harvey sat down. “When are you going back to work?”
“I think next week. I’ll have the good doctor look at the hand tonight.”
“Then we’ll head to the shop together on Tuesday. How about some lunch? I’m starving.”
“I’ve already ordered. It’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Good. I can’t live on coffee alone.”
The doorbell rang. “Harv, think you can help me? I’ve only got one hand.”
“Is that your flirt, now?” He followed behind Lawrence.
The deliveryman looked at the two older men in towels with no shirts and laughed. Lawrence handed him a twenty, and they took the food.
“He’s going to post about us on Twitter, I’m sure,” Harvey said as they walked into the kitchen. “Is that pad Thai? You remembered.”
“I’ve known you forever, old pal. Of course, I remember your favorite dish. Pork pad Thai, just the way you like it.”
“Was this your way of buttering me up to get me to broach the sale to Mario?”
“No, I really just wanted to…” His left eye twitched.
“You’re lying,” Harvey laughed.
“I know. God, I hope my eye doesn’t twitch like that when I talk to Curtis.” Lawrence opened the cupboard with his left hand.
“I’ve got this.” Harvey pushed him back, dished the food onto plates, and they sat on the patio to eat.
Harvey slurped noodles up. They were silent for a little while, just the sound of eating keeping them company. Finally, he spoke. “Maybe you shouldn’t think of him as a boyfriend – just as a partner.”
“Partner? We’re not getting married – it’s just sex. I’ll let you know when it’s more than sex.” Lawrence lifted a skewer of chicken to his teeth and bit.
“Do you want more than sex?” Harvey continued.
“I’m not sure… I’m worried he’ll be like Jeffrey.” Lawrence sighed and pushed the food around.
“Curtis is thirty years younger. Besides, you can’t lie to every guy you meet.” Harvey took another long slurp. “Hey, Abe knew what you did.”
Lawrence cupped his chin in his hand. “Abe wasn’t anything like what I have with Curtis. In fact, living with Abe was like living with the old ball and chain.”
“You’ve never been married; you don’t know what that’s like. But I’ll let you know one thing. A good relationship doesn’t start out with a lie. Be honest with him. Let him in.” Harvey finished the pad Thai.
“Oh, we’ve done—”
Harvey interrupted him. “Not like that. Into your heart.”
They finished the food, and by that time, the afternoon appointment had moved into the early evening. Harvey waved as he left, with an agreement for a meeting on Tuesday.
Let him in. It was easy for Harvey to say. He was an accountant—who’d be ashamed of dating an accountant?
The evening flew by, and the next thing he knew, there was a text from Curtis saying he’d be there in fifteen minutes. The traffic was surprisingly light.
“Oh, fuck.” Lawrence pulled on a robe and threw some fruit, chocolate and a couple of bottles of Angry Orchard on a teak oval platter.
Fifteen minutes came and went.
No Curtis.
Thirty minutes.
Still no Curtis.
See? Jeffrey did that, too.
Lawrence stood in his living room, torn. His phone was silent.
What if he’s been in an accident?
He pushed the thought away and went into the kitchen, then the bedroom, pacing through the house. I’ll just clean up a little more. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.
9
Curtis
He didn’t know why he headed north on Atlantic. Maybe it was thoughts of it being his last day, maybe it was Bernie still not giving in, or maybe he was thinking of falling into Law’s arms, but he set the GPS and followed it to the 405 headed east.
Just a few blocks to Lakewood and I’ll be pulling up to his house.
Instead, he heard everything before he saw the blue Mustang skid and slide over the side divider. Obviously, the driver in the Corolla was trying to slow his car down, but Curtis saw the small green SUV swerve too late and hit the car, till the driver’s-side doors were smacked against each other. The Mustang lost control and T-pinned into the passenger-side door.
Curtis slammed on his brakes and flipped on his flashers. He jumped out of the car and grabbed for his black bag. He opened his trunk, pulled out the flares he kept there for emergencies, and laid a couple out.
He motioned to a couple of the cars that had pulled over beside him. “I’m a doctor. Please call 911. I’m checking it out.”
As he got closer, he noticed the guy in the SUV moving. “You okay?”
“I’m just banged up. I’m a cop, I’ll radio this in,” the man said.
“I’ve got people on the side calling it in. Do you have any first aid training?”
“I do. I’ll see what I can do. You a doctor?”
“Yes, Curtis Fielding.”
“Hugo Marquez.”
They shook hands and moved to the other car.
“You check out the two here, and I’ll go to the other side. That Mustang might have done some serious damage,” Curtis said as he turned.
The Mustang had backed up, hit the front of a stopped car, and sped off. The driver of another car jumped out and shouted, “I got his license plate! I’ll call it in.”
Curtis stepped to the car doors that were no longer there. When the Mustang had backed away, it had pulled the passenger door off, and the woman who’d been in the front passenger seat was slumped over a seat belt to the side.
You can do this, Curtis. Lots of blood. He pulled on some gloves, grabbed a gauze pad from his bag, gingerly brushed the debris from her face, and checked for vitals. She opened her eyes and blinked twice. She had lots of glass in and around her face. Her arm looked like she’d reached back to the man leaning against the back of her seat.
He heard the sirens and felt arms pulling him back. “I’m a doctor.”
“Yes, sir. Dr. Fielding, I know. Let us get her out of the car, and then you can help.”
Curtis wiped his hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand. He saw Hugo stand up and motion the other gurney to his side. Curtis wandered back and forth behind the car.
; “Two people on the driver’s side. The driver has a broken leg. The passenger behind him is his mother. She’s fine, just scared,” Hugo said, and backed away.
Curtis grabbed some gauze and stepped to Hugo. “You have a cut on your forehead.”
“I think it’s from his car. I leaned in the window to see what he needed. I wasn’t worried about me, I was worried about them. It’s his grandmother.” Hugo pointed to the woman being moved out of the car.
“How are they?” the young man with the broken leg asked.
“I’m not sure. I won’t know until I have them out of the car,” Curtis said.
“Dr. Fielding, we need your help,” one of the paramedics said.
He ran over to the woman on the gurney.
10
Lawrence
Lawrence puttered around the house, and before long an hour had passed. He thought he had checked every cabinet and every shelf – had he checked them all, though? Was there still evidence of his job anywhere? He opened the cabinet under the kitchen sink and saw the bottle of GoJo.
Shit. That’s a dead giveaway.
He reached for it, but froze in place as he heard the doorbell ringing.
Except it didn’t just ring once. It rang over and over again, like someone was hammering on the button.
What the heck?
He shut the cabinet, walked through the living room, and opened the door. Standing in front of him was a frazzled man who looked like he’d been in a war. His dress shirt had dried blood everywhere. There were bloodstains on his hands and neck, and he had tears in his eyes. He looked like a little boy, not the man Lawrence had been fucking for the past week.
“You look like hell! What happened? Is that blood yours?” Lawrence reached out for Curtis’s hand.
“No,” Curtis managed. “It’s not me – a patient. A hit-and-run on the 405. Just after I got on the freeway, a car lost control and swerved in front of me, before striking three other cars. I’m not hurt.”
Lawrence led Curtis to the sink in the kitchen. “Here, let’s get this blood off your hands.”
He squatted and open the cupboard beneath the sink again, and pumped some GoJo into Curtis’s hand. When he stood up, he leaned over the sink, flipped on the faucet with his elbow, and moved Curtis’s hands under the hot water.
Hearts Repaired Page 9