St. Nacho's 4: The Book of Daniel

by Z. A. Maxfield

  If Cam’s reaction to the fire and its aftermath hadn’t warned me that a serious tragedy had occurred, all it would have taken was seeing JT’s body language and the careful way my brother watched his face and listened to what he had to say.

  At some point, JT crumpled, and Jake caught him and held him. I turned around and headed back the way I’d come, leaving my brother and his lover to have one of the most emotionally intimate moments I’d ever seen, alone.

  Instead of going home, I headed straight for the firehouse, to Cam.

  Chapter Six

  I found Cam on the lawn outside the station, walking his cat.

  I could tell that whatever had passed between us the night before embarrassed him. He wouldn’t look directly into my eyes, for one thing. But maybe a grown man walking a cat in a little sparkly collar on an equally shiny leash had more things to worry about than a perfectly justified emotional outburst.

  “That, sir, is a cat.” I pointed out the obvious.

  “What’s your point?” A light flood of pink colored his cheeks beneath a day or two of golden stubble. “It’s a special day for her. Spot is the firehouse mascot and an elementary school is coming in to visit and take pictures with us.”

  She certainly was spotted. She looked like a tiny leopard. Cam gathered her up and held her between the palms of his enormous hands. Her triangular face reminded me in some absurd way of Muse.

  “But she’s a cat.”

  “Spot is not just any cat. She’s an ocicat. They’re an especially outgoing, friendly breed, and they like interacting with humans. They’re highly intelligent and”—at this, he whispered so she wouldn’t hear him—“doglike in temperament. I rescued her when she was a kitten. And…you know. She likes dog stuff. I don’t want to treat her like an ordinary cat or anything when she clearly wants to be a—”

  “So she thinks she’s a dog?”

  Even though he didn’t look up at me, I saw his lips twitch at that. He covered her ears. “Shh. She’ll hear you.”

  Since I’d seen her on a leash prancing proudly along in perfect heel, no. I did not want ruin things for her. Delusional cats were outside my area of expertise.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  He brought Spot to his face and rubbed his chin along her fur. “The fourth boy, the one JT transported, died early this morning.”

  “Shit.” I put my hand on his arm, but he pulled it back. Today he didn’t want my comfort.

  “It’s the job.” He turned as though he was planning to walk back into the station, but I called out to him.

  “JT’s taking it hard, isn’t he?’

  Cam turned back. “We’re all taking it hard.”

  “Is… Do you suppose there’s something I can do for the families? Is there a fund, or—”

  Cam’s irritation plainly showed on his face. “JT is right about you. You can’t help yourself. You just have to respond to everything by offering cash, like money is a panacea—”

  “Wait just a damn minute.” I stepped toward him. I had to look up a good six inches—which seemed crazy because I’m not a small man at all—but I was willing to go toe-to-toe over this. “I don’t know these people. I’ve lived here like…two minutes. But I do know how crippling funeral expenses can be, and I also know that grief has got to be ten times worse when you’re scrambling for money to give your child a decent burial. I know it means something when you realize your neighbors care, even if the only way they can show it is with their filthy money.”

  Cam unhooked Spot’s leash and said “Truck,” and damned if that little slip of skin and bones and spotted fur didn’t rush to the fire engine and climb till she was perched on the top, looking down at us like a vulture.

  “I’m sorry I said that, Daniel.”

  There it was again, that thrilling little rasp, that purr when he said my name. It went straight to my cock. Did he fucking do that on purpose?

  I tried to tamp down my attraction to him, at least enough so it didn’t show on my face while I vented my irritation. “I worked two jobs all through college and graduate school and even then, I had a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of student loans to pay off after I got my MBA.” Why did I need to defend myself? It was probably about Bree—about how it hadn’t taken me long to realize money was all she thought I had to offer. Maybe that’s why it stung. For the first time in a long time, I’d actually tried to offer friendship, compassion, companionship, and Cam had rejected it. “Money is everything when you don’t have any. There are plenty of people who believe I have nothing more to offer than that.”

  His head shot up, and his gaze was fierce. Angry. “I’m not one of them. And maybe other people will take a hint when you stop leading with your wallet.”

  He took off, and I didn’t pursue him, because…maybe he was right.

  * * *

  At three that afternoon I got caught daydreaming by Alvin Benchley, one of my business partners at Livingston Properties, my second-in-command. He tapped on the table. “Focus, Dan. I think you’ve only listened to about half of what I’ve said so far.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t drive all the way down here so you could fall asleep while I’m trying to talk to you.”

  “I apologize, go on?”

  “BreeAnna’s lawyer is giving us an indication the settlement is less than they would like. I wouldn’t worry about that, because they’re motivated to get this over with. So that’s good news anyway. On a slightly less positive note, it looks like the homeowners association at Orchard Homes is planning a class action suit against the builders, and they’re naming Livingston Properties in the lawsuit.”

  I frowned. “I told the board that going with the cheapest bid on that recreational facility would cost them a boatload in the long run. They went against my advice. What do they want me to do about it now?”

  “I don’t think they have a prayer of prevailing against LP, but we’re going to have to defend it, and it’s going to cost money.”

  “Everything does,” I said. The light from the afternoon sun slanted in from the blinds. It made long strips of light and dark on the floor that reminded me of fingers, reaching into the room.

  “The purchase of the Shelby office building in San Jose is complete. Only four of the tenants have exhibited any concerns about the change in ownership at all, and since I told them you planned on maintaining the status quo, they’re satisfied.”

  “Good.” I wondered if I could get a cat like Spot.

  “Dan.” Al was clearly irritated with me. “I hope I’m not boring you.”

  I tried to snap out of it. “I’m sorry. I don’t suppose you heard about what happened here yesterday.”

  “The fire that killed those kids? Yeah. Helluva thing. Devastating.”

  “I didn’t sleep very well last night. My brother’s EMT boyfriend transported one of the kids, the only one to make it, but he died this morning and—”

  Al held up his hand. “Say no more. I get it. If you want to set up a meeting another time…”

  “You drove all the way down here, and I’m trying not to waste your time. What else?”

  “I think I went over everything. Orchard Homes is the only big problem I see on the horizon, but even that is more of a minor annoyance. You covered your ass perfectly there. So… You have anything else?”

  “Not currently.”

  “Have you thought about looking for opportunities around here?”

  “Besides the loans I made to Jake and Mary Catherine for Bêtise? No.”

  “There’s some spectacular undeveloped coastal land around here. I’ve done some research. I’d like you to consider a resort property.”

  “I…” I frowned. I had given that some thought. “I’m not sure I’m interested in staying in St. Nacho’s. When I’ve recovered as much as I can, I plan to look for a place in San Francisco.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? You bought an office building in
San Jose, and you don’t live there.”

  “I guess I wasn’t ready to think about it.” Which was odd, since I always thought about things like that: the next project, the next big deal. “I barely got here before we had the accident. Yeah. Maybe. Look into things here then. I’m thinking I’d like to do something here without changing the place too much.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

  “St. Nacho’s is a small town. It doesn’t aspire to draw much in the way of a tourist market.”

  “That doesn’t mean it couldn’t. A first-rate hotel with a spa, something that would pull some upscale vacation trade. Fine dining.”

  I thought about Nacho’s Bar and how people came from up and down the coast for both its evenings as a gay hangout and its family Sunday brunches. “I don’t think it would be easy to change the nature of the place.”

  His eyebrows rose. “It’s going to happen. St. Nacho’s is surrounded by as yet unmolested coastline. Bored tourists are always looking for new places to go. People are willing to travel farther than ever to get to jobs. Politics change in the state capital all the time, and in a down economy, suddenly it’s okay to drill offshore or plunder the wetlands. I say despite the recent elections, it might still prove fruitful to look into something here.”

  Absurdly, my skin felt tight when he said that. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve been looking into something new.” Al seemed to hesitate.

  “What?”

  “Gaming.” He dropped that word between us and waited.

  “What? Like…gambling?” I’d always balked at the idea of gambling. “Most gambling is illegal in California and—”

  “I’m not proposing a casino. Gambling here is the purview of the local Native American tribe and demand won’t support the competition. That’s their schtick. I’m talking about a resort with tournament video gaming and card rooms. Maybe something with its own cachet, like the World Series of Poker Tournament. We create new high-stakes tournament play. Given the surging popularity of Texas Hold’em on television, I’ve been thinking a mid-California mecca for the gamer, the geek, and the twentysomething demographic that plays hard, drinks hard, and spends hard.”

  “A resort with card rooms?” I’d never been much interested in video games. I couldn’t even remember playing any. “I think the good citizens of St. Nacho’s would run you out on a rail.”

  “Yes, card rooms. And high-tech video gaming. Sophisticated laser tag. That’s… Look, I’ve been doing some checking around since you landed here. The area just north of St. Nacho’s is unincorporated. Let’s say you take a long-term conservative approach. You buy the land and start pitching plans for a resort. It won’t be hard to find capital for the property, even in this economy. Once we do that, we put together a prospectus and start building support for the resort. Think: luxury poker destination for folks who want a reasonable drive from commercial centers all up and down the coast. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes along and develops here, because change is inevitable. You could be on the ground floor of something huge, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You can build green, pitch it as responsible land management and an increase in jobs for the denizens of St. Nacho’s and other local communities. At this point we both know the state isn’t going to stand in the way of tax revenue.”

  While he talked, something snakelike deep within me came to life and unwound. I didn’t like it, but he was right. It was a matter of time.

  “We need to do a lot of serious research, but the more I look into it, the more promising it sounds. There’s a lot of money to be had for a project like this if we frame it right.” Al watched me, gauging my reaction.

  That new, living something slithered through my limbs. A flood of adrenaline caused a landslide of doubt to spark a small flame of righteous indignation—an emotional disaster film à la Irwin Allen. “I can’t say I’m feeling the love right now.”

  “I’ve been working on this for a couple of months. I’m almost ready with a proposal. I’ll pitch it formally in a couple of weeks. You’ll see when I have the numbers. There are still really tough times ahead, Dan. I don’t have to tell you it’s a wounded economy and the pain isn’t over yet. But there are places where growth is not only possible; it’s inevitable.”

  I couldn’t put my finger on why exactly, but I started to feel sick. “I don’t know. Native American tribal gaming is—”

  “This isn’t gaming. It’s card rooms. The money ventured belongs to the players, not the house. It’s focused on tournament play. We put together televised tournaments, get in some of the big players. There’s advertising money to be found, sponsorship money. There are entertainment companies, beverage companies, tobacco, the makers of high-end toys.”

  “Wait. Toys?”

  Al grinned. “Like your motorcycle.”

  This was probably going to come between us. He was committed, and I was digging in my heels. But we were adults and professionals. We’d weathered disagreements before. “No. I’m not… I really don’t want to be involved in gambling on any level.”

  “What, never? I need you to at least consider this.”

  That was the most he’d ever asked of me, and he’d given me everything he had for years, damn it. His loyalty had never been in question. It paid to reward it. Yet my heart had started to hammer and not in a good way. I didn’t have any emotional investment in leaving St. Nacho’s intact, but as Al talked, what he said just seemed more and more…wrong. Not just wrong but dangerous.

  All my senses called for him to stop.

  Instead I sighed. “I’m not saying I’m interested in this particular project, but you’ve done a lot of work here. It seems to me that there’s a lot to be said in favor of purchasing the land on speculation. Find out everything you can. Be discreet. Stealth is key if we don’t want to alert anyone to our interest and drive up the price.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  What would I do with land around here if I had it? Not a gambling center, that was for damned sure. “I’ll think seriously about your recommendations. You’ve always been spot-on, but I don’t mind telling you this one makes me feel…apprehensive.”

  “Thank you for at least considering it. I can work with that.”

  “I think that’s all for today.”

  “Fine.” He straightened the papers he’d had me sign—with my new official left-handed signature—and placed them in his stainless steel briefcase. “Great, I’ll get back home in time for dinner.”

  “Give Ellie and the kids my love.”

  “Will do.” He stood, and I stood, ready to see him to the door. “Can I say something? Frankly?”

  “Sure.” I trusted Al more than anyone except my brother. We’d been through a lot together. “Shoot.”

  “Maybe you need to see someone. A counselor or something.”

  “Yeah? What makes you say that?”

  “Things are going to be different from now on. Nothing can change that. And it’s not just the arm. Of course, that’s an awful loss, but… You’re forging a whole new life. Your marriage is finished, and now you’ve gone over to the dark side.” He used air quotes. I knew he believed I was going through a phase. Like it was only natural for me to want diversity and quantity—to go on some bisexual kink odyssey—after a rather lackluster sex life with my wife. “Whether you wind up here or somewhere else, nothing is ever going to be the same. Ellie said she thinks you should find someone to talk to. I promised her I’d tell you.”

  “Tell her you delivered the message, and thank her for me, will you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why don’t you and Ellie meet me down in Pismo sometime and bring the kids. I found a place where you can rent horses to ride on the beach.”

  He grinned, glad to be on safer ground. His wife and girls loved horses. “We would love that.”

  “Then that’s a plan. Have Ellie call—”

  I still had an executive assistant in my office up nort
h, but since I’d slowed way down, I made my own appointments. I grinned. “Have her call me, and I’ll make all the arrangements.”

  “Will do.”

  I watched him head out the door and climb into his car. Since Livingston Properties had gone from a voracious real estate investment consortium with a focus on acquisitions to one that mostly oversaw the management of a number of properties, I’d shuffled and shifted and downsized. Due to the current financial climate and after that, my accident, Alvin and I had put a plan in place so LP could run with only the barest necessary day-to-day input from me. Six hours, maybe eight, three to four times a week—not the fourteen-hour days I’d been used to putting in.

  I headed for the porch where I could light up a cigarette without hearing about it from Jake later on.

  When I checked the mailbox, the overnight delivery from Bree was tucked inside. I didn’t really want to read what my father had to say. Surely, it was more of the same. He’d been young and unhappy, he’d handled it poorly. He’d learned from his mistakes and was trying to do better. He might say he had done better with his new family, as though my mother, Jake, and I were his practice pancake and that was perfectly all right.

  “Not today.” I put the mailer, unopened, beneath the stack of bills and junk mail I always found in our mailbox.

  A flutter of movement among the trees that surrounded our rented house caught my attention. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen it, the flutter of a hand-dyed peasant dress, a colorful ripple of fabric as whoever was wearing it darted for cover. In fact a number of similar incidents had been happening, over the weeks and months I’d lived in St. Nacho’s, and I had a pretty good idea who was behind them.

  Well, I guessed.

  It seemed I’d picked myself up a stalker or three. Sure enough, when I headed toward the street and looked around, the pavement was covered with chalk symbols in pastel colors and they looked an awful lot like the one Muse had scrawled on my coffee sleeve. I wasn’t imagining things.

  I sat down on my padded chaise longue and lit up a cigarette while I gazed thoughtfully around me. From where I sat, I could hear the slight susurration of waves on the shore. There was a salty crispness in the air. Seabirds wheeled overhead.