by Andrew Grey
Lee nodded, and the server started with his mother before asking what he wanted.
“I’d like the duck, please, but could you ask the kitchen to take the meat off the bone for me? I’d really appreciate it.” Lee flashed a smile. “And I’d like ranch dressing on my salad.”
“Very good,” the server said and then moved on to his dad and Dean before leaving. Hopefully his mother wouldn’t try to cut up his food for him. That’s the last thing he wanted an asshole like Cliff to see.
“I’m leaving!” This time, everyone in the restaurant had to have heard. The rattle of dishes followed. “When you can be civilized, we’ll talk. But since I don’t think that’s possible, don’t call.” Heels clicked on the floor, growing fainter until they died away.
“Maryanne!” Cliff called, presumably rushing after her.
Lee did his best not to react. “Mom, you got something different this time.” He had to change the subject.
“Wasn’t that Cliff, the guy Trevor fired?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, it was,” Lee answered as evenly as he could. “I understand tomorrow we’re going to start our first restoration jobs?” He attempted to sound excited, but Cliff’s venom had stolen most of it away.
“Yes. I’ve worked out a schedule for you and Scott with Trevor. He and I will go over it with you tomorrow, and then we’ll get started. I have a ’75 Camaro and a ’69 Corvette, as well as the Cobra. They all need major engine restoration. The Cobra is going to have to be fill-in work because Trevor wants to show it before we sell it. The others are directly for clients.”
“Will I have to meet them when they come in?” Lee asked.
“You might, but it isn’t necessary. Trevor and I will be the ones setting up appointments and interacting with them for the most part,” Dean explained.
“Excuse me,” the server said, and Lee sat back as a plate was set in front of him.
“It’s a salad plate, and they dressed the salad already,” Dean explained. Lee noticed his mother didn’t interject. Maybe she was being quiet. “There’s a salad fork, it’s the farthest one on the left.”
“Thanks.” Lee smiled and began to eat.
“I’d love to see the Cobra,” Lee’s dad said. “I had a friend who had one when I was a kid. It was an exciting car.”
“They are. This one still has its original paint color and enough of its interior that I can use as a pattern even if it is in bad shape. It also has all its original engine parts. Some of them are worn out, so part of our challenge is going to be sourcing the parts that we need. I have some contacts.”
“I have a friend online,” Lee’s dad added. “His name is Paul Schneider. He does restoration out of his home in Lansing, Michigan, but told me that one of the best places for parts is Carlisle. They have auto shows all summer long, and he goes every year. He says he comes across a lot of hard-to-find parts there.”
Dean chuckled. “I know Paul. He’s really well respected in the business. Getting in touch with him is a good idea. I have sources, but so does he, and we help each other out. Besides, a new-to-the-market Cobra is going to cause quite a stir.”
“I bet it will.”
“Where are your parents now?”
“In North Carolina, near Macon, Georgia. They’re just across the line and love it. Dad says he gets just enough winter for it to be interesting, but most of the year, it’s warm. His arthritis is getting bad, so colder weather is really difficult for him. Mom has health issues as well. But I miss them.” Dean patted Lee’s hand lightly. “I told them about you, and Mom and Dad would like to meet you. They’re coming up to visit this fall.”
“You told your folks about Lee?” Lee’s mother asked.
“Of course I did.” Dean bumped Lee’s shoulder lightly. “Why wouldn’t I?” The challenge in his voice was unmistakable. “Lee and I recently figured out that we want to give a relationship a try. I have crap luck in that department, believe me. But somehow Lee decided I was worth it. I’m lucky for that.”
Lee swallowed hard. Here all along, he had thought that he was the lucky one, that Dean was willing to accept a man who couldn’t see. Hell, maybe love was finding the person who made you feel lucky and grateful. Lee had never thought of it that way before.
“I know you’re worried, Mom,” Lee said carefully. “But I’ve made my choice. I’m not settling for Dean, and he isn’t settling for me. We’re both going into this with our eyes open. Well, metaphorically on my part.” He flashed a smile and hoped it worked to lighten the mood a little. “I don’t need your blessing, but I’d like your understanding.” He sat still, waiting for some kind of reaction he could understand.
“We know that, and as long as Dean treats you right, your mother and I will be there to support you—both of you.” Lee could just imagine the glance his father was shooting Dean at that moment, like a “You hurt my son and I will make you pay” sort of thing.
“No worries there, Dad. Dean treats me well.” Lee took another bite of salad and set his fork down again. “I’ve been really frustrated lately. I suppose it’s normal, but I’ve been a little annoyed with Mom because she does all the things for me that I can do myself.” He kept his tone gentle because he didn’t want to upset her, and spoke directly to his mom. “Sometimes it takes me longer, and… okay, I make a mess on occasion, but is it really the end of the world if a few pieces of lettuce hit the table? Or if I spill a few peas? I need to be independent.” Lee sighed. “Anyway, I was feeling really wound up, and you know what Dean did? He took me to a gym that specializes in boxing. I got to work out with a punching bag, and it felt really good. The guys there are pretty cool, and I’m going to go back. Dean said he would take me on Saturday, and I’m going to learn some self-defense.”
“Boxing,” his mother gasped. “What if—?”
“Mom, I can’t live my life being afraid of the what-ifs. If I am, then I won’t have a life at all.” Lee didn’t know how his mom was reacting, and frankly he didn’t care. He was tired of walking on eggshells, worrying about what she thought all the time. Lee picked up his fork, jabbed at his plate, and brought a mouthful of salad to his lips. He used his fingers to locate the rest of the salad, continuing to eat and pretending to ignore them.
“You can’t blame me for worrying….”
“Jane. What I think Lee is saying is that you’re worrying too much.” His dad’s voice was so gentle. “Of course you care. You’re his mother. I worry too. But Lee is nearly twenty-two years old. He isn’t a child.” Maybe his dad was getting a little frustrated as well. “We need to loosen the grip and let him explore the world.”
“But, Neil.”
Dean cleared his throat. “Lee is going to need your support—I think he always will. Just like he’ll need the support of others.”
“No,” Lee said. “What I’m going to need is help with some things that I can’t do alone. But otherwise, I want to live a full and independent life. I have a job, a career maybe… and I have friends and people who care for me. But you have to let me decide what I need help with and what I want to do on my own. That’s up to me. So Mom, when you make meat for dinner, I will ask you to cut it if I need it. And Dean, I’ll ask if I need guidance.” He put down his fork now that he was finished with the salad. “I will be the one to decide what’s right for me.”
“But—” his mother protested.
“Mom, I need to be the one in control. I can’t live my life with decisions about what’s best for me being made by someone else.” That was as clear as he could make it. “I don’t want to upset you, but at times I’m so frustrated I could scream. And not just at home. I’ve given up control in a lot of areas of my life, because it was easier. But now I’m taking it back.”
His mom’s fork clanged on her plate, and she sniffed. “Okay,” she said softly. “I will try.”
“You’re still my mom, and I love you for everything you’ve done for me.” Lee held out his hand over the table, and she took it, her soft fin
gers sliding over his. “And I know you’ll be there to help. All I’m saying is, let me ask for what I need. I trust you’ll be there. Just like I trust that Dad will be.” He released her hand. “And Dean, well, he makes me happy. I know you have an issue with the difference in our ages, but Mom, it’s your issue. It isn’t mine, and it isn’t Dean’s.” There, he had said what he thought, and it felt good.
“I agree,” his dad said before his mom could argue. “Now, let’s talk about something more interesting. What other cars have you worked on, Dean?”
Dean and his dad were off on a completely different conversation, and Lee was pleased they were getting along.
“Has everything been going well at work?” his mom asked. “I had an interesting conversation with Scott’s mom last night, and….”
Lee hated the pointed way she let her thought fall away. “There has been some trouble,” he admitted. “But it’s over now, and Trevor discovered the guy behind it and fired him.” Lee didn’t mention that the guy had been in the restaurant earlier. He was gone, and they could hopefully finish their meal without any more interruptions.
“That’s good. She said that someone had been messing with your tools.” She wasn’t going to let this go.
“He was, and he damaged my toolchest. But I have a new one on the way. Trevor ordered it and took the money out of his final pay so I was sure to get it.” Everything was okay, and he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. “How is your garden doing?”
“Just fine. The roses are almost in bloom, and the tomato plants are taking off. I have an entire bed of spinach that should be ready to harvest soon, so I’ll be able to make you that salad with pecans and strawberries that you and your dad love.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Dean said.
“Do you cook?” Lee’s mom asked Dean.
“I can do basic cooking. Enough to keep me from starving, but I’m not very good otherwise. I can grill really well… that sort of thing. I always appreciate someone who can cook.” The best way to get in good with his mother was through her cooking, that was for sure.
“Lee and I used to bake together when he was younger, but we haven’t done that in a while.”
“We should do it again,” Lee offered. “I know it won’t be the same as it was….”
His mom grew quiet. “I’d like that.” Lee was getting the idea that his mother didn’t want to lose her special place in his life, and maybe she was worried that Dean was replacing her… or something.
Dean chuckled. “My mom is the world’s worst cook.”
Lee sat back while the server placed a plate in front of him after placing a tray stand nearby.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to tell you that the chef removed the bones from your duck, just as you asked,” the server said.
“Thank you,” Lee told him, relieved he wasn’t going to have to ask for help with his food.
“You were saying,” Lee’s mom prompted.
Dean leaned closer, telling him where everything was on his plate, and then returned to his story. “Well, Mom grew up on a farm in northern Wisconsin, outside Pulaski, and she learned to cook from her mother. Both of them believed that meat should be well done. So one Thanksgiving, when we all got up in the morning, we discovered that Mom had already been up for hours. She could bake wonderful pies, and the house smelled of pumpkin and apple. Soon the scent of turkey joined in, and the house was filled with the scent of roasting bird.” Dean wove a spell as Lee carefully picked up a piece of meat.
“Do you want me to pour the sauce on the meat for you?” his dad asked. “That way you aren’t going to have try to find the container with each bite.”
“Thanks,” Lee answered softly, and waited for his dad, then took a bite of the rich meat and slightly sweet and tangy raspberry sauce. That was heavenly. He hummed softly as Dean continued with his story.
“The turkey smelled amazing at ten in the morning, but dinner wasn’t until two in the afternoon.”
“Oh Lord,” his mom whispered.
“Yup. Apparently she’d put the bird in at seven in the morning and roasted it for seven hours to make sure it was done. By the time we got it out of the oven and lifted it out of the roasting pan, it fell apart. The legs fell off and the bottom stayed in the pan. The white meat barely hung on the carcass, and it was so dry, it was near impossible to cut.”
The others chuckled as Lee took another small bite, trying not to dribble sauce down the front of him.
“Did you actually eat it?” Lee asked.
“God, yes. We all had a few bites and then ate everything else. It was so dried out, I swear we could have used parts of it to resole shoes. But that’s Mom. Pork should be cooked until there’s no life in it. The time she tried to make salmon….” Dean snickered again. “On those occasions, Dad takes over. He says it’s to give Mom a break, but I think it’s because he really likes turkey and wants to actually have some.”
“Goodness. Seven hours….” Lee’s mom snickered.
“The farmer up the road has a pond where he raises fish, and he lets my mom and dad catch and eat from the pond. The fish is wonderful, except Dad doesn’t let her touch his fish. Mom cooked the first one for two hours and damn near fumigated the house in the process.”
His mom and dad were both laughing. Lee managed to eat most of his meal while everyone else was occupied, and they all were getting along. That was almost more than he had hoped was possible.
“Is everyone ready for dessert?” the server asked, presumably as he cleared the table.
“I have a chocolate cake back at the house. It’s one of Lee’s favorites,” his mother offered. Lee had been smelling the rich sweetness of that cake since he got home from work.
“Coffee?” the server asked, and his dad requested a cup, along with Dean. Lee sat back, checking his front as he placed his napkin on the table, and was glad he’d managed not to drip sauce on his shirt.
“Dean,” a man said from near where Lee sat.
“Reggie, hi.” Dean’s voice instantly filled with tension. “How are you doing?” Yup, definitely wariness and caution.
“Not so good. I’ve been trying to find you, but I didn’t have your number.” The man sounded jittery and nervous. “Can I talk to you? I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Excuse me,” Dean said, and pushed back his chair. “Are you all right? You don’t look very well.” Dean’s voice got softer as they left, and Lee tried not to fidget while he waited.
“It’s probably one of Dean’s old clients,” he offered as explanation, even though he knew in his heart that was highly unlikely.
The server returned with coffee, and his mom and dad talked softly until Dean got back and took his seat once again.
“Is everything okay?” Lee asked with forced brightness.
“Yes. It’s just fine.”
Lee knew that was a lie, but he had no idea how large.
Chapter 7
DEAN WAS so damned nervous. He actually thought that he had been lucky enough to have escaped all this, and now here he was, waiting once again, and wondering.
“Are you feeling better?” Lee asked as he and Scott came into the restoration garage on Tuesday. Dean hated the tension in Lee’s voice, and the distance. He hoped he’d done an able job at covering up his nervousness, but he should have known Lee would pick up on it.
“Yes.” Dean was doing better, and if the doctor’s office would only call, he’d feel a hell of a lot less jittery. This entire situation was really starting to bother him, but then he should have known that the way he’d lived his life for the last few years would catch up to him eventually. Dean was always careful, but no practice was 100 percent safe. Now it seemed that some of his reckless behavior was coming home to roost. “Are you ready to get to work?”
“Definitely.”
Lee and Scott walked arm in arm to the Camaro and leaned over the hood, talking, touching, and doing their unique combination of commun
ication. The two men seemed to be of one mind. He needed to fix the dash and finish the reupholstery of the seats, as well as make the new interior flooring pieces. The list of items to complete was huge, but before he could do too much, they had to get the engine running. If the engine needed a complete rebuild and had to be taken out, the rest of the car could wait.
Dean got to work on his own tasks, trying not to concentrate his attention on Lee. This entire weekend had been an eye-opener for him. As much as he wanted to, Dean couldn’t leave his past behind, and Lee deserved so much more than what he had left.
His phone rang, and he set down the leather cutter to take the call. He shouldn’t have tried to work in the first place, really. He hadn’t been able to concentrate and had almost ruined another piece of the expensive material. These damn seats were going to be the death of him yet.
“Mr. Milford, this is Anne from North Shore Physicians. We wanted to let you know that your tests came back just fine. None of them showed anything out of the ordinary.”
Dean felt as though he could breathe again. He might not be HIV positive, but Reggie was. Yes, they had practiced safe sex, but realistically, nothing was foolproof. “Thank you so much. I appreciate the call.” Dean put the phone away and turned around to find Lee standing in front of him.
“Are you going to tell me why you didn’t call all weekend? We were going to go to the gym, but you said you didn’t feel well, and I know you weren’t sick. You don’t smell like you’ve ever been sick.” He put his hands on his hips. “If you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine. I can take it. But don’t fucking lie to me.”
The curse hit Dean harder than the rebuke. Lee never swore. “I….”
“I know. You went to the doctor yesterday, and you just got a call now. Are you going to explain what happened? Does this have anything to do with the guy at the restaurant?” His lips were set hard, and even though Lee couldn’t see Dean, the gaze was still cold as steel.