by Wendy Qualls
Paul practically had cartoon hearts in his eyes at the declaration—then Ian made an exaggerated gagging sound, which started everyone laughing again. Lito didn’t mention the footsie.
They moved into the living room for a few rounds of group games on the PlayStation. Lito, Chris, and Ian said their goodbyes after another hour or so—Brandon and Paul had plans to spend Christmas afternoon and evening with Brandon’s family—but the feeling of déjà vu Lito expected at being in the same room together was strangely lacking. Wednesday night gaming online with each other just wasn’t the same. Even the handshakes and back-slaps and hope-to-see-you-soons felt depressingly adult.
“I really do miss you guys,” he confessed in the car on the way back. “I have made some friends in Black Lake, but they’re not you.”
“Awwww, that’s sweet.” Ian made an exaggerated kissy face. “I’m not giving up the apartment, though, so don’t ask. I like your old bedroom.”
“Spot’s probably asleep on your bed right now, wondering why all the furniture’s wrong.”
“As long as she doesn’t pee on it, it’s fine.”
“I could probably get her to pee on Clarence’s, if you want her to.”
Ian lit up. “God, wouldn’t that be entertaining?”
Chris leaned forward from his spot in the back seat and smacked Ian upside the head. “That’s my cousin, remember. I vouched for you. Don’t be a dick.”
“I didn’t say yes,” Ian whined. “I just said it would be funny. He’s not a bad apartment-mate, he’s just…”
“A bit much sometimes,” Chris finished for him. “Believe me, I know.”
Lito snorted. “A bit much for Ian. Never thought I’d hear that.”
“Shut up. Oh!” Ian clapped loudly, which nearly startled Lito into swerving lanes. “Speaking of being a bit much—Lito, I’ve got a Christmas card for you. It was addressed to you as ‘Carlos,’ which is probably why it didn’t get forwarded like everything else does, but remind me when we get back and I’ll dig it out.”
Who would have sent me an actual, physical Christmas card? Lito racked his brain and kept drawing a blank. “Nobody calls me Carlos. Did it say who it’s from?”
“I didn’t open it. The return address was Miami, though, and I assume it was someone in your family—a woman’s first name, I don’t remember what, but the last name was Apaza.” He grimaced. “I know you and your family haven’t exactly kept in touch—”
“That’s an understatement—”
“—but I figured I’d mention it. If you want me to toss it out, I can do that too. Up to you.”
As tempting as the offer was… “I guess I should at least look.”
Lito felt significantly less merry the rest of the way back.
* * * *
Dear Lito/Carlos (whichever you’re going by now), the card read:
It’s been ages, but Feliz Navidad! This was the most current address I could find for you, although Google is being cagey about whether it’s current. I hope you get this.
I’m guessing you don’t keep up with anyone else in the family either, but if you haven’t already heard: Aunt Ximena passed away right after Thanksgiving. It was a surprise stroke with no warning. Uncle Diego had been thinking about retiring, or at least cutting back how much time he spent at work, but now he’s thrown himself back into it. Your dad and my dad are both trying to keep up.
Lucas and I are now out in Coral Gables, which is a bit farther from the old neighborhood but a lot closer to both our jobs. I don’t know if you’d remember him—he was just a friend when you were living with me—but we moved in together about two years ago. You probably would have told me it was about damn time. He’s an electrician and I finally finished that phlebotomy course I told you I was thinking about way back when. We’ve got a guest room in our condo, if you ever want to come visit. I miss you and your fabulous snappy comebacks.
Write back, to let me know you got this? I’m on Facebook too, so come find me there if you want to reconnect!
-Gabriela
“That bad?”
Lito was startled from the letter by Ian plonking down on the sofa next to him and offering him a bottle of Blue Moon.
“Was I right? About it being family?” Ian gestured toward the paper with his own bottle. “My mom and I aren’t in touch with ours either anymore, you know. Sometimes it sucks but we both decided they’re not worth the stress.”
“Yeah,” Lito answered weakly. “My cousin Gabriela. She’s…she was the nice one.”
“She the one you lived with for a while?”
“Mmmhmm.” Five months, two weeks, and four days, to be exact. He’d counted them over and over. No matter how many times he counted, the numbers never went back down.
They drank their beers in silence for a while. For all that Ian was a loudmouth and a smart-ass ninety-five percent of the time, he’d always been the one who got Lito the most. He was also more than capable of shutting up when he sensed Lito needed it. They’d thought about hooking up, once upon a time—Ian was the one who’d first introduced Lito to their little group, actually—but it didn’t take long to realize they weren’t cut out to be anything more than friends. And that was fine, because friends were all Lito had for family anymore. Friends and Spot. Who was currently curled up at Ian’s feet, the traitor.
“It sounds like she’s doing okay,” Lito volunteered after a while. “Said she has a boyfriend and a new condo. My aunt had a stroke last month and died unexpectedly. It’s… I’m guessing the rest of the family’s taking it hard. Aunt Ximena was kind of the matriarch.”
“Were you close?”
“Yes, kind of? It’s complicated.” She’d liked him as much as any of his cousins, Lito supposed, and she had welcomed him into the kitchen when the rest of the boys were roughhousing and knocking each other around. Then again, she’d also been the most shocked and angry when he was outed as being gay. “It’s mostly just hard to think of the family changing,” he admitted. “Times like this—big holidays—we always spent together at their house. I try to tell myself I don’t miss it, haven’t missed it over the years, but…hell, that’s a lie. Every once in a while it hits me and I mope like crazy for a few hours.”
“It’s okay to dream about the good parts.” Ian put his empty bottle down on the corner of his desk and turned so they were mostly facing each other. “Mom cut off contact with her dad and her sisters when she was in college, right after her own mother died. I’ve never met them. Sometimes I wonder what they’d be like if I met them now, but I can’t miss what I never knew.”
“Yes you can.” Maybe a happy family was a Hollywood fantasy anyway, but sometimes the longing for normal, supportive parents was overwhelming. “I spent Thanksgiving with a…good friend, I guess. He invited me along to his family get-together so I wouldn’t be all by myself. His parents live way out in the country surrounded by cows and cotton fields, and they were all so Southern. White, Alabama Southern. He and his brothers all played football in school, and all four of his nephews like to play, and I got roped into running around with them and trying to pretend I knew what I was doing. Thanksgiving dinner was busy and noisy and everyone crammed into the house even though there weren’t quite enough chairs for everyone and they were all nice. To each other and to me. I remember Uncle Diego and Aunt Ximena’s house having lots of noise and chaos too, but there was usually also at least one major argument, too-loud music, younger cousins misbehaving, older cousins harassing the younger ones…shit. When I describe it like that it sounds awful, but it really wasn’t. It’s just what I had.”
“And you miss an idealized version of that?”
Lito had never told himself that in those words, but Ian—as usual—was spot-on. “I miss the acceptance. And having somewhere to belong. But what you said, yeah. That’s basically it.”
Ian nudged Lito’s kn
ee with his own. “You know we’re going to be here for you no matter where you end up, right?”
“You guys being ‘here’ doesn’t help me a lot out in Alabama. It’s a long drive.”
“I like road trips.” Ian gave up on the whole knee-touching thing and went for a tight side-hug instead. “Hell, I would even stay overnight in Alabama in one of those hotels of yours if it meant I could help. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
Ian pushed him away with a smile and scooted back to recline against the other end of the sofa. “You’ve got to tell me about this ‘good friend’ of yours. Is he the ‘not bad looking’ one who got you suddenly interested in Mother Nature?”
* * * *
Dave brought Lumpy and Woozy along to his parents’ house for Christmas, like he usually did. Their property wasn’t dog-proofed by any means, but Lumpy and Woozy both loved bunking down in the barn for a few days and taking in whatever interesting and new smells they could find there. Jack’s boys also loved the chance to romp around the backyard at whatever speeds the dogs would tolerate. Lumpy ended up flopped on her back on the dirt floor between Billy and Junior when Dave walked into the barn Christmas afternoon. Woozy’s arthritis slowed her down a bit more every year, so she’d curled up back in her bed early, but both pups wagged their tails at him as if to say look at how well we’re minding your small humans!
“Y’all will sleep well tonight,” Dave said to both the dogs and his nephews. “My two will never admit they can’t keep up with you boys anymore, but they’ll kill themselves trying.”
“We’ve gotten faster,” Billy pronounced proudly. “I was practicing fake-outs, and they were pretending to tackle me.”
Dave didn’t mention that he’d been watching through the kitchen window and had seen most of their romping firsthand.
“Thanks again, by the way,” Junior announced, propping himself up to a sitting position. “For coming to my school. It wasn’t as cool as getting to watch Lumpy and Woozy search for someone for real, but everyone thought it was awesome anyway.”
“Did they learn anything?”
Junior grinned. “Learned that you guys search for dead bodies.”
Of course that would be the part that stuck. “I usually try to avoid mentioning that particular fact.”
“Yeah, but it’s so cool! I want to come join your team, but Mom says—”
“The same thing I say,” Dave interrupted. “When you’re eighteen you’re welcome to come out to practice, whether or not you have a dog. Until then—”
“You don’t wanna corrupt me, I know.” Junior gave Lumpy another pat on the head and pushed himself up to standing so he could go give Woozy equal petting time. “I wouldn’t mind, though. I already know that you’re gay, and that hasn’t corrupted me yet…”
Billy sat up too. “That’s because he’s busy corrupting Mr. Lito.”
Dave laughed before he could stop himself. He couldn’t help it—Billy at nine was a little blond copy of what Jack had been like at that age, snark and all. “He’s just a friend,” he countered. Lied. “And a teammate.”
Ping.
Merry Christmas! Lito’s text said. Hope you’re enjoying your family time! I’m going to stay in Atlanta for a few days—got invited to a post-holiday thing at the big bosses’ house, which I’m not gonna turn down—but Spot’s chomping at the bit to get back out in the woods. I don’t think she’s a city dog anymore :-)
“Right,” Junior said, his expression making it clear he didn’t believe a word of it. “It’s a teammate who makes you smile like that?”
Billy nodded. “Uncle Dave, we’re not blind.”
Chapter 13
Ronald and Betty were in their sixties, never had kids, and lived in an absolutely gorgeous modern house in one of the ritzier Atlanta suburbs. Lito had been invited to their home a few times before, mostly for the company Christmas and Fourth of July get-togethers, but this was the first time since the downtown Dayspring offices closed. Betty’s email had made it sound like this would be something similar…which was why it felt so odd when Lito got to their house and discovered it would just be the three of them eating dinner together.
“Not quite the same as before, I know,” Betty said, picking up on Lito’s confusion as she ushered him into the kitchen, “but we wanted to catch you while you’re in town. How’s Black Lake treating you?”
“It’s different.” Lito accepted the glass of ice water she handed him and made to help with setting the table, but Ronald waved him away. “I’ve never lived anywhere smaller than Orlando before, so it’s taken some getting used to.”
“Settled in at the new office?”
Lito still didn’t feel particularly settled, standing out like a sore thumb in the middle of all his coworkers’ gossip and feminine chatter, but that wasn’t really something he could say. “Vanessa and the other women have gone out of their way to be welcoming,” he answered. They were obviously making an effort. “It’s been an adjustment, and tapping into the local local art scene for every Dayspring location in the state is gonna be a big job, but I don’t mind the travel.” He thought for a second. “I do like having a house to myself instead of half an apartment too. I’m renting a little two-bedroom ranch with a flowerbed I haven’t killed yet and a real backyard.”
Ronald snorted—Lito’s not exactly green thumb had come up in conversation before, the first time they were dealing with landscaping. Planning out a new look was one thing; growing actual living herbs in the box outside his old kitchen window was something else entirely. Betty frequently lamented that she couldn’t garden like she had when she was younger because they were so frequently away from Atlanta.
“You’ve got a dog, right?” Ronald asked. “I remember you mentioning her.”
“Yeah, a two-year-old lab mix. She likes having a yard too.”
“We had two, several years ago.” Betty gestured toward a framed picture on the wall of two fluffy white puffballs with dark brown eyes. “Tillie and Tiny. I used to take them with me whenever I was on the road without Ron.”
“I remember.” Vividly. Lito had been an overnight desk clerk for all of about a month when his manager had whipped everyone into a frenzy because one of Dayspring’s owners was going to be visiting their location overnight and checking things out personally. They were one of the few hotels around with pet-friendly rooms, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that she brought her dogs, but Lito had been taken aback by the tiny lady with giant hair and two bleached tribbles following along behind her. She’d checked into her room, put her pups to bed, then spent most of the night puttering with the antiquated computers trying to set up some new reservation system. The two of them ended up having a wonderfully frank discussion about the hospitality industry in general, Lito’s ambitions in particular, and what he needed to do to get there. When the night manager up and quit with no notice six months later, Betty rubber-stamped Lito’s promotion without even bothering to come interview him for the position.
“You brought them along a few times when you came to Orlando,” he explained. “I was impressed at how quiet they were, even when another dog completely freaked out at them in the lobby.”
“When—oh!” Betty put her hand to her mouth. “A big grumpy gray one, wasn’t it? We got a complaint afterward, that’s why it stuck in my mind. The owner said you weren’t sufficiently apologetic that her dog suffered emotional distress while at our hotel.”
That was news to Lito. “I spent forever letting her complain at me next morning—that was the first time I’d ever needed to go take a break so I wouldn’t start yelling back. What’s-his-name, the day manager, hid in his office the entire time, citing seniority.”
“I told the woman in no uncertain terms that we only allow well-behaved dogs,” Betty said. “And that particular manager didn’t last all that long, if it’s the man I’m th
inking about. Balding, regrettable mustache, kind of a whiny voice? Name started with an E?”
That was…more than accurate, actually, if not exactly a flattering description. They chatted about E-something-the-ex-manager and Lito’s time at the Atlanta office over the course of dinner. Which was, as usual, amazing. Betty and Ronald both loved to cook and Lito got the impression they’d been desperate for a chance to show off their culinary skills. He’d never had a vegetarian shepherd’s pie before, but Ronald had somehow remembered that Lito was a vegetarian (partly right) and it was really touching that they’d perfected a new recipe just for him.
“I’ve got the trifles still setting,” Betty announced when Lito finished thoroughly cleaning his plate. “If you don’t mind waiting on dessert for a bit, though, Ron and I did want to talk shop with you. None of what we’re about to discuss is public knowledge yet, so please don’t tell anyone.”
That sounded ominous. He should have known there’d be something like that the moment he found out the invitation to the big boss’ house for dinner was a private one. “I won’t,” he promised.
“Well then.” Ronald poked at his phone for a minute, then turned the screen and handed it to Lito. “This is the Sunshine State Motel in Miami. Or it’s the original one, to be more accurate—the chain has thirteen motels total across south Florida. We’ve been in negotiations for the last few months with the owners, offering to buy them out.”
Lito accepted the phone and swiped through the motel’s listings page. Lots of two and three-star reviews. The general consensus seemed to be they were clean and cheap, but dated and ugly with mediocre customer service. “Not exactly Dayspring prices, looks like.”
“Oh, we’re planning to rebrand,” Betty said. “The Sunshine State Motel name is a bit tarnished now—the owners haven’t done more than basic maintenance in ages. Ron and I haven’t come up with what we’re going to call it instead, but at this point it’s a ‘when’ more than an ‘if.’”