by Bree Cariad
“Already on it. Meatloaf, green beans, and mac and cheese. And a chocolate cake for dessert. Don’t worry, Johnny. We’ve got this. You’re not alone in this venture. Remember that.”
Chapter Five
Neon. There were actual neon lights running atop the building. Brecker wiped at a bead of sweat that trickled down his neck. Why did I agree to this?
It was guilt. That was the reason, plain and simple. Lisa hounded him at her party that he needed to find someone to love. And then, even though it was her birthday, she’d given him a gift. A year’s membership to a dating group in town. Well, she’d called it a gift. He was pretty sure it was payback.
A dating group. “Lisa’s probably laughing her behind off right now,” he muttered and then chastised himself. Lisa would never do something like this as a joke. She cared for him and wanted him to be happy. Of course, every time someone told him that, he tried to explain that he was happy, as happy as he could be.
Why were they all fixated on getting him fixed up? One of the reasons he’d stopped going to church was a single man of forty-two was like a sign that said Come and get it. And some of those women were nice. Most of them, truth be told. But there was no attraction on his part. Plus he did not want to put anyone through what he’d done to Lisa. She’d had some very colorful phrases to say when he mentioned that on her birthday. He’d forgotten about her turns of phrase that would make a sailor blush.
But this…. He grimaced at the brick building across the street. Two strips of blue neon went along the top with a white neon sign in front of them that read The Club. It sounded exclusive but since Lisa had gotten him a membership, he figured it couldn’t be that exclusive. There had been no interviews. Though he had received a twenty-page online questionnaire he had to fill out on his likes, dislikes, and attraction factor.
Was it just him or did the women come in clumps? In twos, threes, and in one case, fours, they walked up to the simple wooden door and stepped inside. The men who appeared came alone. “We are solitary animals,” he mused. And less willing, if the fact that the majority of the men he saw paused, hung back for a moment, and then went inside.
Amused despite his trepidation, he crossed the street and entered. From the fake tile floor to the faded green booths, it looked like the place had been a restaurant at some point. By the shadows on the wall that told of kanji symbols having been there at some point, he assumed the food had been Asian in nature. His stomach growled at the thought of a plate filled with Mongolian beef.
A perky lady who was probably early to midthirties walked up to him, a smile on her face. “Good evening. Welcome to The Club’s newbie night. I’m Claire. You are?”
Dear God. They named it. Newbie night. If they pulled out Charades or Pictionary, he was out of there.
“Brecker,” he said, his voice gravelly due to nerves. “I go by Brecker.”
“Nice to meet you, Brecker.” She pulled up a small clipboard and glanced over it, her smile turning to a frown. “I don’t see a—oh, there you are. Court Brecker.” Claire made a big show of putting a check mark next to his name. “We’ve still got a few minutes before we begin. We like to give the newbies time. Usually at least half of you show up late.” She laughed as though it was a shared joke. He glanced toward the entrance, wondering if it was too late to get away. “Go ahead and take a seat in one of the booths. The tables will be used for our speed dating rounds.”
Speed dating? Next year he was going to get Lisa something awful for her birthday. Perhaps a down payment on a headstone. He could just imagine her laughter at that.
Claire lowered her voice and leaned in. “The straights usually sit on the left and the LGBT members on the right.”
That made no sense to him at all. First off, the segregation bothered him. But also, why have a dating night with both straight and LGBT members? Shouldn’t they be on alternate nights? What if he saw a woman he was attracted to, tried to chat her up, and found out she was a lesbian? That would be embarrassing.
The booths on the left were filled with people. Lots of women and a few men. The booths on the right also held several men and women, though there was a lot more seating left. Not wanting to have to squeeze into one of the already overflowing straight booths, he went to the booths on the long wall where nobody was and took a seat. It made him stand out, but at that moment, he fought the desire to get out of there as fast as his feet would take him.
“Good evening,” Claire said again. He drowned out the rest of what was said until he heard the voice that replied.
“Good evening. My name’s Jonathon Neiland. My friend Rolf signed me up.”
Surprised, Brecker turned and spotted the tall, thin man over by the door. He looked as uncomfortable as Brecker felt. The circles under his eyes spoke of stress. Brecker knew food and clothes were getting to the shelter and wondered what was dragging the poor man down.
Claire gave Jonathon the same falderal she gave him, including her whispered instructions of who sat where. Jonathon looked amused and then he did what Brecker did. He looked to the left and then to the right. And then suddenly those gray eyes latched onto his. Jonathon smiled and walked across the room. “Middle ground?” he asked.
“Something like that. This seemed the safer option.”
With a wry chuckle, Jonathon slid in across from him. “I don’t normally do—” he waved around “—this. But Rolf’s decided I’m going to have a breakdown if I don’t get out and see people for something outside of shelter business.” The way he said the last four words, they were in Rolf’s inflection.
It made Brecker smile. “My ex-wife set me up.”
Jonathon laughed loudly. “I’m not sure which is worse.”
“How are things at the shelter?” Brecker asked when they both looked around and it appeared that nothing was about to happen. Jonathon’s face went blank and he winced. “That bad?”
He took a deep breath and shook his head. “We knew to be prepared for this. After all, we’re housing high-risk kids. One of them had to be taken to a hospital in Seattle. We’re waiting to hear on his condition.”
“Man. I’m sorry.” Brecker winced at how trite that sounded. “But that’s one out of thirty-seven, right? I know this has to feel bad, but you’re still doing really well.”
Jonathon looked surprised and then smiled. “Thanks. Rolf’s been telling me the same thing. And while things are a little unsettled, not by much. All that food and fun you sent our way has definitely helped.” His smile turned into a cute grin. Wait. Cute? Brecker shook himself internally. Guys weren’t cute, were they? Well, he supposed objectively, they were. Aiden was cute, but he was also a kid. “Every Friday night, we have a game battle on the television you sent. The kids love the games you sent over.”
“Just the kids?” Brecker teased, seeing what amounted to a little boy twinkle in Jonathon’s eyes.
“Hey. I’m just a big kid.”
With a laugh, Brecker was about to tease him again when Claire rang a bell. He turned and stared at her blankly. A bell. Were they back in elementary school?
“Looks like everyone arrived,” she gushed. He managed not to grimace as he figured that was the way this kind of thing always went. Cheerleader type leader and tons of embarrassing first meets. “First we’re going to go around the room and introduce ourselves.”
Kill me now. Brecker seriously considered making a break for it until he looked over at Jonathon and saw the look of horror on his face. He somehow managed not to laugh. They were both public figures what with him on the city council and Jonathon being a religious leader and running the youth shelter. Even if nobody recognized their faces, they were bound to recognize their names.
“Would it look bad if I suddenly had an emergency come up?” Jonathon asked, looking hopeful.
Brecker couldn’t stop his chuckle then. “I think we’re both about to remember a prior engagement.”
For a moment Jonathon’s eyes lit up, then he winced. “If you leave a
t the same time I do, people are going to start hooking us up in the paper.”
Startled, Brecker stared at him for a long moment and considered the conundrum. Crelon would have far too much fun with painting Brecker as gay. Then again, he’d tried to do it a couple times over the summer and nobody seemed to bat an eye at it. Brecker didn’t really care what people thought of him. Besides…. He shrugged and winked. “If the gals at church think I’m gay, I might be able to go back and not be accosted.”
Jonathon’s mouth dropped open in surprise and then he slammed his hand over it to muffle his laugh. Once he got his snickers under control, he removed his hand and leaned forward. “I’m game if you are.”
Slowly, so as not to cause notice, Brecker pulled his phone from the pocket of his coat and clicked on an app he relied on for times like this. He set it aside and fifteen seconds later, his phone rang at the highest tone imaginable. “Oh sorry,” he said and fumbled with it so that it would ring a little longer than normal. Finally, he hit the button that would stop the offensive tone. “Brecker,” he barked into it. Claire stood with her mouth open—she must have been midword when it went off—as he clambered out of the booth and went to the front door so he could act like he was on the phone. He purposefully left his coat on the seat so that Jonathon wouldn’t think he’d abandoned him.
There was no way he was leaving the man to the scary club. Who knew what terrifying things they had planned?
He kept the call to two minutes before he walked back into the fray. The intros were still on the straights’ side of the building so he strode across to Jonathon and winked, then raised his voice. “There’s a problem. We’d better go before it gets worse.”
The intros cut off and everyone watched the two of them as they put their coats on. Brecker might have been wrong, but he was sure several of the men on both sides of the room looked jealous they were leaving. Poor suckers.
They strode toward the door. Jonathon, who was obviously better with people, stopped and murmured a few words to Claire who went from looking shocked that people were walking out, to concerned. “Come back next time,” she called after them.
The moment the door shut behind them, Brecker gave a groan of relief. “I’m so paying Lisa back for that.”
Jonathon chuckled. “I’m going to find other ways to get out of the house. That was….”
“Scary,” Brecker filled in for him making him nod. “My driver isn’t set to pick me up for an hour. What do you say to dinner?” He pointed to a diner just down the street. “Never been there, but everywhere’s got to be better than where we just were.”
“Sounds great. If I get home before nine, Rolf will skin me alive and probably cackle the whole time.”
The diner turned out to be the restaurant side of a bar. There was nobody but a waitress in sight as they walked in. Brecker wasn’t sure if she was relieved to see customers walk in or disappointed. “Pick a table,” she called across to them.
The booths were the same color as the ones at The Club, but the scent of oil and fried meat drifted from an unseen kitchen so he was sold. They slid into a corner booth and she walked over with laminated menus. “What do you want to drink?” she asked as she pulled a small order pad from her pocket and a pencil out of her hair. Brecker wondered if she had watched a whole bunch of 1950s television shows or if that was just the norm for diners anymore.
“I’ll have lemonade if you’ve got it,” Jonathon said.
“Regular or hard?”
Jonathon blinked and then smiled. “Regular thanks.”
“I’ll have a Coke.” Brecker looked over the menu which was filled with all the crappy food his personal chef refused to make him. He loved the food Ramon fixed, but sometimes a guy just wanted something deep fried.
Once she left, Jonathon said, “You don’t have to abstain for me. I’m used to not drinking while others indulge.”
With a chuckle, Brecker shook his head. “I don’t drink. And honestly, I’ve never met a man of the cloth who didn’t partake.”
Jonathon looked intrigued. “You don’t drink? Recovering alcoholic?” His voice was gentle, probably trying not to offend.
“Never had a sip. My old man was a mean drunk. I’ve chosen to never be like him.”
“Ah.” Jonathon nodded. “My reason isn’t so direct. I just never could handle the taste. It made me sick every time I tried.” When Brecker grinned, he grinned back. “Honestly, it tastes awful. I thought I could at least be smooth and learn to drink wine because it’s the high-class way to drink, right?” He shook his head. “Every time I tried, my nose wrinkled. I couldn’t stop it.”
Laughter once again burst from Brecker’s lips. He hadn’t laughed this much in ages. “Kind of like me and mustard. That stuff is vile.”
“Or cauliflower,” Jonathon added, “which Rolf is continually trying to convince me to eat.”
They traded a bevy of undesirable foods until their waitress came back with their drinks, her pen and pad in hand. “Ready to order?”
He hadn’t read most of it and quickly gave the menu a once over. “I’ll have a cheeseburger, medium with absolutely no mustard, the steak fries, and, oh man, a piece of fudge cake for dessert.” He was a sucker for cake as he had it rarely.
“I’ll have the same,” Jonathon said. “Only make my burger medium-well.”
“You like your meat dead?” Brecker asked as he handed the menu back to the waitress.
“Well, if a vet can get it on its feet in less than fifteen minutes, it’s a little too undone for me,” Jonathon said with a wink.
It had to be the best evening Brecker had in recent memory. Jonathon was incredibly easy to talk to and before he knew it, they had eaten their way through dinner and dessert. Jonathon glanced out of the window and nodded toward it. “I think your driver’s arrived.”
“Already?” Brecker looked at his watch, surprised to see two hours had gone by. “Wow. Guess we’d best be going. I’m glad you were there tonight. Otherwise, who knows what would have happened.”
They paid their bills and left, a drizzle making both of them pull up the hoods on their coats. “Thanks for the fun night,” Jonathon said as he looked around and zeroed in on a small Mazda across the street. “You should come out to the shelter this weekend.”
“Anything fun going on?” Brecker zipped up his coat and put his hands in the pockets. It was already too cold for the beginning of October.
“We’re carving pumpkins in prep for Halloween. Rolf’s going to use the innards to make pumpkin pie for the holidays. He’s also going to be making pecan pie, which I’m very partial to and he knows it.”
It might be fun to watch everyone eww and groan as they pulled the innards out of a pumpkin. Feeling lighter than he could remember, Brecker nodded. “I’ll try. What time?”
Chapter Six
He knew he was being silly, but Jonathon could feel Vaughn’s absence. After the first few days when the others seemed a little wary, the feeling in the shelter changed. Even though he had experienced them, he never realized just how much Vaughn’s temper tantrums and overall fury hung over the place. With him away, Jonathon also realized just how much attention he’d given to the boy.
The thirty-six others were truly coming out of their shells. One of the boys had risen as a leader and Jonathon was grateful for him. Peril had a natural charm the others gravitated toward and at seventeen, he was the eldest. His parents kicked him out when he came out four years ago and when Jonathon went seeking out youth to bring to the safety of the grounds around the shelter before it was finished, he’d run into Peril who, even on the streets, protected and cared for four others.
The scent of maple syrup filled the shelter and Jonathon grinned as he strode toward the kitchen. The day was blustery and overcast. A perfect time for comfort food like pancakes or waffles. Just as expected, that’s what he found. Rolf had his waffle makers going and was popping out huge Belgian waffles every couple minutes. There were three people in
line waiting for theirs and from the chatter and laughter coming from the dining hall, Jonathon assumed everyone else was in there.
He greeted them and waited until the last of the youth went into the hall before he grabbed a plate for a waffle of his own. “Everyone served?” he asked as he did every morning.
“Nope. Aiden hasn’t come downstairs yet.”
Jonathon put the plate down and jogged out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Since they had to fight for food on the streets and it was never guaranteed, none of their youth ever missed a meal. Unless something was wrong.
The scent of illness, a smell Jonathon could never adequately describe as it had nothing to do with vomit, drifted from the trans boys’ bedroom. He strode inside and walked up to Aiden’s bunk bed. He’d chosen a lower bunk and he lay shivering under his blanket.
“Hey,” Jonathon said in a quiet voice and lifted a hand to the boy’s forehead. He was burning up.
Aiden lifted his lids only half way and looked at him. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Jonathon asked in a quiet voice as he peeled back the blanket to check Aiden’s throat. Just his light touch made the boy wince.
“For not feeling good.”
Jonathon sometimes wondered what people were thinking when they made their child express regret because they were ill. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said quietly. “People get sick.” His eyes spotted a few red dots and internally he groaned. Most likely chickenpox. Great. It would swarm anyone who hadn’t had it and they’d be awash in fever reducers and anti-itch cream. He pushed the hair back from Aiden’s face, stroked his head, and then pulled the blanket up to his chin again. “I’ll be right back.”
A few seconds later he was back in the kitchen and passed by Rolf. “Will you call Thomas?” Jonathon asked on his way by. “I think we’ve got a case of chickenpox.”
“Done.” Rolf went in the opposite direction and Jonathon stepped into the dining hall. Every face looked up at his entrance.