Ha! Careful. Don’t want to get arrested.
I do not. You’re a bad influence.
Me? You started it.
Luka had started it. Sure, the teasing messages had flown both ways, but Luka had escalated the flirting by sending a photo of himself shirtless in his turnout pants with suspenders, boots and hat. It was a cheesy firefighter calendar pose, but Kyle had enjoyed it enough to reciprocate with a photo of his own hard cock straining at the fly of his jeans. The pictures had gotten progressively lewder as the week went on, but Luka wasn’t complaining. Particularly as he’d gotten the impression Kyle didn’t sext with just anyone.
The announcement of the train’s approach to Riverdale Avenue prompted Luka to send a hasty goodbye.
Nearly at my stop. Catch you later tonight?
Working but I’ve got my phone. Have fun with your family.
Thanks. Have a good shift.
Luka stood and pocketed his phone as the train slowed and stopped. The cool air was crisp when he exited the station, but the sun made for a pleasant walk through the tree-lined streets. Luka approached the house with a smile. Due to his schedule and preoccupation with Kyle, it had been over a month since he’d been in the Bronx. It always felt good to come home.
Losing his father had been hard for Luka, and he’d struggled after his mother began dating Tomas Padilla, a handsome and soft-spoken man who co-owned a small accounting firm. Luka had grown fond of Tomas with the passage of time. After Tomas and Luka’s mother married, they’d moved the family from an apartment in working-class Kingsbridge to the more affluent Riverdale, and Luka had fallen in love with the three-story brick house. Its fenced-in yard and basketball hoop had sealed the deal for a pre-adolescent boy.
Luka had always suspected Tomas had installed the hoop himself. They’d bonded over basketball, shooting hoops in the yard during the evenings and weekends after Luka’s homework and chores were done. Tomas hadn’t said much during those sessions and neither had Luka, but the game gave them a shared language. In time, Luka had come to love Tomas even more than the home he’d created for the family.
Now, Luka jogged up the front steps and let himself in. “Mom?” he called out as he strode through the living room.
“In here!” she replied from the kitchen. Her face lit up as she spied Luka. Standing nearly a foot shorter than Luka, Lydia Clarke appeared much more youthful looking than her sixty-five years. Her medium-brown skin bore few wrinkles and only some gray lightened the tight corkscrew curls she wore gathered at the crown of her head. Her dark brown eyes sparkled.
“Hey, baby.” She tilted her cheek toward Luka for a quick kiss, then resumed seasoning a whole chicken. “Let me finish this up here, then I’ll wash my hands and give you a hug.”
“Need help with anything?” he asked.
“You can set the table.”
“Okay. Who all is going to be here?” Luka called out as he left the kitchen.
“Regina and James, and Marcus and Ruby.”
Luka nodded and gathered plates for seven, which included his siblings and brother-in-law. “Is Daniela at the bakery today?” he asked. His cousin and her family joined them for family dinners when they could, too.
“Yes, and James and the kids are doing a sports thing. Daniela’s sending a couple of pies however. Apple crumb and blackberry, I think.”
“I knew she was my favorite.” Luka heard a laugh from the kitchen. “Where’s Pop?”
“He and Marcus ran to the store and to the bakery for the pies. They’ll be back soon.”
Luka set the plates out and moved on to napkins and flatware, working his way around the large wooden table. “How’s work been for you?”
“Oh, not bad. They’re cutting staff again, and I keep reminding them that the best damn money they can spend in the hospital is on nursing.” Lydia worked as the director of nursing for Bronx Presbyterian Hospital. She’d been a floor nurse for years and had gradually moved up into management. “They cut staffing, patient satisfaction scores go down, lawsuits go up, then they’re scrambling to fix the issue they caused in the first place.”
“They never learn, do they?” Luka asked.
“They don’t seem to,” Lydia agreed. “Once I’m done with the chicken, we can catch up.”
With the table set, Luka wandered toward the living room. Framed family photos lined the mantel, and he smiled at himself as a toddler in one. Luka wore his father’s boots and hat, dwarfed by the massive turnout gear but still grinning proudly.
On a whim, he snapped a photo of it with his phone and sent it to Kyle.
Me, aged 4.
Kyle replied almost immediately.
Adorable. Not sure I’ve got any, but I’ll check.
Luka frowned. He couldn’t imagine having grown up in Kyle’s world.
I look forward to it.
Luka slipped his phone back in his pocket and picked up a photo of himself with his father. Luka was older in the photo, maybe six, and his father was pushing him on a swing at the park.
His mother approached and rested her head against Luka’s upper arm.
“He was a handsome man, your daddy. You look just like him.”
Luka resembled Ian Clarke in many ways, including his broad shoulders and blue eyes. Not to mention his career path. It had been hard on his mother to watch Luka enter the fire academy. She’d hated his choice to follow in his father’s footsteps, and she’d cried for days after he’d told her. She’d begged him to do something else. Anything else. It had been difficult for him to stand firm, but with time, she’d come around and she’d clapped the loudest of anyone at his graduation.
“Think he’d be proud of what I’ve done?” Luka asked.
Lydia placed a hand on his cheek. “He’d be bursting with pride. You’re a good man and a credit to his legacy.”
Luka pulled his mom close. They stood silent for a few minutes before Lydia stepped back.
“I put some coffee on,” she said. “Would you like some?”
Luka cleared his throat. “That would be nice. Are you sure there isn’t anything you need help with?”
“Not at all. The chicken is in the oven and everything else is on hold until Tomas and Marcus come back. Your sisters won’t be here for a bit yet. Come have a seat in the kitchen. I have some questions for you.”
Luka followed behind her, eyes narrowed. Someone had blabbed that Luka was dating someone. Ruby, he assumed. If so, she was in serious trouble.
He sat at the table, and a few minutes later, Lydia brought over mugs of coffee and a plate of Oreo cookies, a favorite indulgence. Luka had inherited his mother’s fondness for them and knew if she was sweetening him up before dinner, he was in for it.
“Your sister said you borrowed her car for a date,” Lydia said.
Subtle, the Clarke women were not.
“Ruby talks a lot.” Luka filched a cookie off the plate and twisted it open. “But, yes, I took him to play mini golf on Randall Island.”
“What’s his name?”
“Kyle McKee.”
“Is he as Irish as his name makes him sound?”
Luka nodded. “Born in Vermont, but, yes.”
Lydia pressed her lips together tightly. “You know I don’t want to interfere, but are you sure you’re making a smart choice? What if he’s like Matthew? Happy to be with you until it comes time to bring you home to the family?”
Luka sighed at the mention of his ex. “Kyle is nothing like Matthew.” At all.
“I hope not,” she muttered.
Luka’s mother had taken a dim view of him dating white people after Luka discovered his ex, Matthew, had been hiding Luka’s race from his family. Matthew’d claimed that he’d done it to spare Luka from a nasty encounter with his bigoted parents, but Luka’d harbored doubts. He’d suspected Matthew had been ashamed of Luka and his race, and it had soured the relationship.
Luka had been young then, though, and had learned a lot since. “I’m not a kid anymore, Mom,” he said
gently. “I need you to trust me on this.”
“I do trust you. But you have such a good heart, baby. You want to believe the best of everyone and not all of them deserve it.”
“So that’s it? You’re just writing Kyle off before you know anything about him?” A stab of disappointment went through Luka. He loved his mom—he truly did—and knew she was just looking out for him. Her dismissal hurt however. He was a grown man. Why didn’t she trust his judgment?
“I’m just saying be cautious,” she said. “Don’t go jumping into something until you’re sure what the bottom looks like.”
“I’m not jumping into anything,” Luka protested. “I’m not moving in with Kyle or running off to the courthouse to get married. We’re dating. I like him. It’s going well so far. That’s all I’m saying.”
The rattle of the doorknob interrupted their tiff. “Well, it sounds like we got back just in time,” a familiar voice said. “Do I need to referee?”
Luka chuckled and some of the frustration leaked out of him when he turned and saw his stepfather’s wide smile.
“Hey, son,” Tomas said. Like Lydia, he looked younger than his years, though silver now touched the black hair at his temples.
“Hey, Pop.” Luka stood and engulfed Tomas in a hug. “I’m afraid you were right about needing a referee.”
Tomas was nearly a decade younger than Lydia. Regina hadn’t taken kindly to the idea of her mother dating a younger man at first, but he’d won them all over, even Regina. After the chaos of Ian Clarke’s death, Tomas had been an oasis of calm to the family. The security of his safe, stable job had been a relief to all of them, and not a day went by that Luka didn’t feel grateful Tomas had become a part of their lives.
It couldn’t have been easy for Tomas to become a stepfather to three kids ranging in age from eleven to twenty-two, especially since they’d still been coping with their father’s death. But Tomas had done it with grace and strength. He’d become a supportive male figure in Luka’s life without trying to take his father’s place and listened avidly when Luka and his sisters talked about Ian Clarke. Rather than pushing them to move on, Tomas’d encouraged the reminiscing. He’d never pushed them to call him Dad either. Eventually, Luka had started referring to him as Pop or Pops, and Ruby had followed suit. Regina, already in her early twenties, had simply called Tomas by name, though with great affection.
The door banged open now and Luka grabbed for it and held it open as his half-brother, Marcus, shouldered his way into the room, carrying three reusable grocery sacks. At twenty-two, Marcus was built much like Luka. Marcus had inherited the big, sturdy frames of Lydia’s family as well as his father’s blinding smile and quiet sense of humor.
Marcus set the bags on the kitchen table with a thump. “Why’d you leave me to get all of this out of the car, Pop?”
Tomas grinned at his younger son. “Because you’re younger than me.”
Marcus scowled back at him, but his eyes brightened behind his black-rimmed glasses when he turned to Luka. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
“Surprise.” Luka pulled him in for a hard hug. “Good to see you.”
“You too.” Marcus thumped him on the back.
“What’s all this?” Lydia said as she surveyed the grocery bags. “Aside from the pies, there were only three things on the list I gave you.”
“Marcus needed to do some shopping,” Tomas explained.
“Are your roommates eating you out of house and home again?” Lydia asked. She shook her head. “I’m going to give those boys a talking to.”
Marcus groaned. “Please don’t. I’m an adult. I can deal with it.”
“Why do my boys keep reminding me of how adult they are?” Lydia said with a sniff.
“Because you keep forgetting!” Luka and Marcus said, nearly in unison. They bumped fists.
Lydia threw up her hands. “Fine, fine. You’re grown men,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m just the woman who brought you into this world.”
Marcus draped an arm over her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “I haven’t forgotten. I promise.”
Luka hadn’t either. He respected his mom’s opinion. She was a smart, capable woman, and he had no problem turning to her for advice when he needed it. But Luka hadn’t asked for her opinion of Kyle, not to mention she was wrong about him. Nothing about Kyle had struck Luka as bigoted, and it irked him that his mother didn’t trust her own son to make good decisions.
“Dare I ask what you two were disagreeing about?” Tomas asked. He reached into one of the bags of groceries and started withdrawing produce, which he handed to Lydia.
“Luka is dating a white boy.” Lydia carried the vegetables to the counter.
Tomas raised an eyebrow. “What’s the concern?”
“There isn’t any on my part,” Luka said. “Kyle is a great guy. His friends seem like nice people, and he’s kind to every single person we encounter every time we go out. Hell, he offered to figure out legal help for a couple whose restaurant just burned up and Kyle was trapped in the fire. What more do you want from him?”
“I just think Luka should be cautious.” Lydia waved a paring knife for emphasis, and Marcus stepped back with his hands up. She scowled at him, but there was humor in her eyes. “Given what happened with Matthew, it’s worth Luka being wary.”
“Your husband and my brother are Latino,” Luka reminded her, his annoyance continuing to grow. “Since when is race an issue in this family?”
Lydia tutted. “It’s different for people of color. You know that, Luka.”
“Okay, so my grandmother was white,” Luka pointed out. “Which means Dad was part white. Therefore, Regina and Ruby are part white, as am I. Until Kyle proves otherwise, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt that he’s not a racist asshole. I’m disappointed you won’t.”
He walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. He paced for a few minutes, needing the physical outlet to clear his head before he flopped onto the couch. He looked up as soft footsteps approached, unsurprised when Tomas appeared. He’d played the role as peacekeeper many times throughout Luka’s life. He was good at listening and smoothing ruffled feathers so people could sit down and really discuss whatever had caused the unrest.
“Your mother didn’t mean to upset you.”
Luka looked up at Tomas. “I know that, but some of the things she said bother me.”
“I can understand that.” Tomas’ tone was soothing.
“Am I being unreasonable here?” Luka asked.
“No. But I think you’re being hot-headed.” Tomas sat in a nearby chair.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Luka admitted.
Tomas cracked a smile. “No, it wouldn’t. You got that from your mother. That’s why you argue like this sometimes. But she wants what’s best for you.”
“I know.” Luka sighed. Maybe he was being hard on his mom. Lydia had been unconditionally accepting when he’d come out as bisexual and never once treated the men or women he’d dated any differently. That’s why this race thing had taken him by surprise. “I like this guy, Pop. If it gets to a point where I bring Kyle here for dinner, I don’t want him to feel unwelcome.”
“Give her some time. I’m sure she’ll come around.”
“Do I have a choice?” Luka asked.
“Not unless you’re planning on ditching family dinners. And that won’t work. The Clarke-Padillas are a tenacious bunch.”
“Don’t I know it?” Luka laughed. “You’d all show up at the firehouse with food and make me have dinner with you there.”
“That sounds about right.” They were both silent a moment. “C’mon. You don’t have to agree with your mother, but it would be nice if you joined us while we finish getting dinner ready.”
They stood and Luka walked over to lay a hand on Tomas’ shoulder. “Thanks for listening.”
“Any time.”
In the kitchen, the scent of roasting chicken made Luka�
�s stomach growl. “Man, that smells good.”
“Dinner should be on the table in half an hour. If you’re hungry, there are some vegetables and hummus in the refrigerator,” Lydia offered. Her smile seemed a little forced.
“Thanks, Mom.” Luka gave her a small side hug as he passed by her. His mother’s comments still irritated him, but he knew they’d work through it in time.
Luka rummaged in the refrigerator for the snacks, and he’d just put together a small plate when the front door opened.
“Mom?”
“In the kitchen, Regina.”
The clack of high heels on the wood floors announced Regina Owens’ arrival. She stood tall, nearly five-ten, and carried herself with impeccable posture and confidence. Over the years, Luka had watched many men stop in their tracks at the sight of his sister, dazzled by her long, dramatic ringlets and beautiful smile. As the director of development for a non-profit, Regina was one of the most driven people he knew, but she was also still Luka’s big sister.
“Queenie!” Luka grabbed her in a hug. He’d discovered the name Regina meant ‘queen’ as a young boy, and he’d used the name against her when she got bossy. Over the years, it had morphed into ‘Queenie,’ a nickname Regina claimed to loathe. Luka was certain she secretly loved it however.
“I didn’t know you’d be here, Luka.” Regina extricated herself from his hug and smoothed down her tailored dress. “And I’ve told you not to call me that!”
“Yeah, well, I never learn.”
Regina rolled her eyes at him. “Hi, Mom.” She greeted her mother with a hug and kiss. “How are you?”
“Good, baby. I’m glad you and Wade could make it.” Luka could hear Regina’s husband, Wade, in the living room talking with Marcus.
“How are you, Tomas?” Regina greeted her stepfather with another hug. “How’s work?”
“Good,” Tomas replied. “The new accountant we hired has helped make the workload more manageable. What about you?”
Wade joined them in the kitchen while Tomas and Regina chatted. He kissed Lydia’s cheek. Wade’s deeply toned skin, goatee and tight fade haircut gave him a strong, elegant appearance, but his dark eyes danced with light.
Behind the Stick Page 8