Belonging

by Alexa Land

  When I pushed open the door to my bedroom, shoes in hand as I tried not to wake the entire household, I muttered under my breath, “What the hell?”

  Jessie was asleep on my bed, snoring softly. He was naked and on top of the covers, his small body curled into a fetal position. Apparently the chauffeur had decided to make a pass at me tonight. I sighed quietly and pulled a blanket off a chair in the corner. After I covered him with it, I went through to my adjoining bathroom and clicked the door shut quietly.

  I stood under a hot shower for a long time and it helped ease the soreness in my body. Eventually I toweled off, retrieved a t-shirt and cotton sleep pants from my closet, and got dressed. Jessie hadn’t budged. I decided to just let him sleep and carefully eased myself under my comforter.

  That woke him though, and he sat up with a little gasp. It took him a moment to figure out where he was, and when his eyes focused on me in the dim light, he said, “Shit. I fell asleep.”

  “Put your clothes on, Jessie,” I said gently.

  He did as he was told, pulling on the flannel pajamas he’d left on the floor beside the bed. They were covered in a repeating pattern of male hula dancers, which made me grin. Once he was dressed, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me over his shoulder. “Sorry. I know this was really cheesy. I just didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

  “If you promise not to get handsy, you can bunk with me. Just this one time,” I told him.

  His face lit up. “Really?”

  “Yeah, but we’re talking chaste slumber party, not an open invitation to molest me.”

  “I’ll be good, I promise.” He quickly climbed under the comforter and settled in facing me. After a moment he said, “You were out late. Hot date?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I didn’t realize you were dating someone. That makes me coming in here doubly lame.”

  “Actually, before today, I wasn’t seeing anyone.”

  “Oh! First date, huh? That’s exciting. Are you going to go out with him again?”

  “He wants to see me next week.”

  “He’s a lucky guy.”

  “I’m curious,” I said. “Just this morning, you were talking about how hot my cousin Nico is. Did you try creeping into his bed, too?”

  “Nah. He is gorgeous, though. Both of you are. But after hearing about that shit with his ex-boyfriend and his best friend, I figured he probably wanted to be left alone.”

  “Good call.”

  After a pause he said quietly, “It’s really nice of you to let me spend the night here, especially since you barely know me.”

  “So, now we’re getting to know each other. I’ve been wondering, where did my grandmother find you?”

  “At the LGBT community center. She volunteers there on Wednesdays, and that’s when I go in for my support group.”

  “What kind of support group?” I asked, then immediately amended, “No, never mind. It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s totally fine to ask, and you already know this about me anyway. The group is for people who were disowned by their families when they came out.”

  “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Jessie.”

  “It’s alright. I’m coping.” He smiled at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  After a pause I asked, “What does my grandmother do at the center?”

  “She’s like, the unofficial goodwill ambassador,” Jessie told me. “She visits with people, brings cookies, tends to the library, pretty much does whatever needs doing.”

  “That sounds like Nana. Out of curiosity, did you actually have any experience driving a limo before you got this job?”

  “No, but I can drive anything. I’m a really good mechanic, too. I probably shouldn’t tell you this because I get the impression you already have some concerns about me, but I’m a street racer. That doesn’t mean I’m going to start taking the limo and your grandmother out to the drag strip or anything. I just mention it because I want you to know I can handle myself behind the wheel.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “If that was meant to instill confidence, it had the exact opposite effect.”

  “It shouldn’t. I can drive the hell out of anything. Racing is about remaining calm and in control under pressure. Those are good attributes in a chauffeur.”

  “It’s also about driving really fucking fast.”

  “No worries there. The limo tops out around seventy-five.” He grinned and added, “Nana and I tested it.”

  “Awesome.”

  “I love your grandmother, Gianni. I’d never do anything that would cause her harm.”

  “Promise?” He nodded and I said, “Okay, I believe you,” then covered a yawn with the back of my hand.

  “We should get some sleep. Thanks again for letting me stay with you.”

  “You’re welcome. I totally get it, by the way. There are plenty of nights when I really don’t want to be alone, either.”

  *****

  Jessie was gone when I woke up the next morning, but he’d left a little note on the nightstand which said: Thanks again for the sleep-over. I never actually got to do any of those when I was a kid. Can we do another one and watch scary movies and eat junk food? Pretty please? It’ll be super fun. Hugs, J. Underneath that, he’d drawn a little stick figure in a crash helmet, leaning out the window of a race car and waving. I grinned and returned the note to the nightstand before going to get dressed.

  When I went downstairs to the kitchen, I found Nico sitting at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee and a thick textbook. He looked up at me and said, “Really?”

  “Really what?” I asked as I filled the tea kettle at the sink.

  “I saw Jessie coming out of your bedroom this morning. Are you really sleeping with that guy?”

  “Nope. I just let him spend the night because he wanted some company. He’s cute though, so why would that be so hard to believe?”

  “He’s starting to feel like family since Nana took him in, so that makes it weird. Also, he couldn’t be further from your type.”

  “You’re right. That’s why you should have known I didn’t sleep with him.”

  “Good point,” Nico said before taking a sip of coffee.

  “What are you up to today?” I asked as I put the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner.

  “You’re looking at it. I have so damn much reading to do. It doesn’t help that my mind keeps wandering, so I end up having to read the same paragraph over and over.” He took another sip and asked, “What about you?”

  “I need to text Vincent and see what he’s up to today. If he’s free, I have a project in Marin that I could use his help with. I’m trying to get the landscaping under control around Tillane’s house.”

  “Really? Landscaping is part of your job description?”

  “My job description is pretty vague. Basically, I do Zan’s shopping and help out as needed.”

  “You don’t talk about this guy very often. What’s he like?” Nico asked.

  “Stubborn. So very, very stubborn.”

  “I love his music. It seems surreal to me that you go see this huge celebrity twice a week.”

  “It’s funny, I don’t think of him as a celebrity. I mean, I like his music too, but...I don’t know. Somehow this guy and Zan the pop star don’t have a hell of a lot to do with one another.”

  “The thing I remember most about Zan Tillane is that he was fucking gorgeous.”

  “He still is, in this unkempt, ten years past due for a haircut, only shaves twice a week, got his wardrobe at a thrift shop in the Haight Ashbury kind of way.”

  Nico grinned and said, “That could still be sexy.”

  “If you’re into that sort of thing.” I pulled the phone out of my pocket and shot a text to my brother, then grabbed a mug and tossed in a tea bag. Vincent texted back a couple minutes later and I told Nico, “He’s free and actually excited at the prospect of doing some yard work. Apparently his husband is tak
ing their son to a birthday party today and staying to help chaperone. I get the impression Vinnie was all too happy to dodge the prospect of a day spent with sugared up preteens.”

  “He’s an awesome dad, though.”

  “Oh, he totally is, and he adores his son. But that doesn’t mean he wants to spend the day at a bowling alley with twenty of Josh’s hyper little friends.”

  “True,” Nico said.

  After finishing my tea and saying goodbye to my cousin, I drove to my brother’s house. He and his husband Trevor had bought a charming Edwardian on Russian Hill a few months back. It had been fairly rundown, but they were renovating it bit by bit. They’d already finished the outside, painting it a pretty dark blue with white trim and creating a gorgeous garden in the postage-stamp sized front yard.

  My brother-in-law opened the door when I knocked and greeted me with a hug and a big smile. “Hey, Gianni. Good to see you.”

  “You too, Trevor. My condolences on spending the day at a bowling alley with a pack of junior high kids.”

  “It could be worse.”

  “How?”

  “Last month we went to a karaoke birthday party for a female friend of Josh’s. He and I were the only guys at the party and he flat-out refused to sing, so somehow, I got roped into performing all of Justin Bieber’s greatest hits. Twice. I barely survived.”

  I chuckled and told him, “I would have paid to see that. And Vincent made you go alone to that one, too? How does he keep dodging these bullets?”

  “He always has a good excuse, and that’s fine with me. To be honest, I enjoy these parties. The kids are fun at this age. That’s why I volunteer to chaperone.”

  “You’re a better man than me, Trevor,” I told him. We’d been walking down the hall to the back of the house as we were talking, and emerged in their sunny kitchen. It was the first room they’d renovated, and it was clearly the heart of their home. Since Trevor was a chef, they’d really gone to town. Functional stainless steel appliances, including a massive six-burner stove, contrasted nicely with rich stone countertops and attractive maple cabinets.

  My brother and their son were sitting at the breakfast bar. The kid turned to me and said in lieu of a greeting, “Uncle Gi, are Legos a stupid present for a kid turning thirteen?”

  “No. You’re almost thirteen and you love Legos.”

  “But maybe I shouldn’t love Legos,” Josh said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with an index finger. “Maybe I’m immature for my age.”

  “Immature has to be the last word I’d ever use to describe you,” I told him.

  He turned to Trevor and said, “Dad, can we stop by the store before the party and get a different gift? Maybe, like, an iTunes gift card or something? I don’t want Ronnie Frasier to think I’m lame.”

  “Ronnie’s a good friend, he won’t think that,” Trevor told him.

  Josh shot him a look. “This is junior high, dad. It’s like the Serengeti. One week you’re friends with the lions, the next week you’re their entree. I don’t want to do anything totally stupid and piss off the lions.”

  “If you really want to, we can stop off and get a gift card on the way to the bowling alley,” Trevor told him.

  “Does that mean I can keep the Lego set?” Josh asked.

  “That wouldn’t have been your ulterior motive all along, would it?” Vincent asked with a grin.

  “No, Dad,” the kid said flatly. “My ulterior motive is always the same: not coming across as a total dork and knocking down the house of cards that’s my junior high social life.”

  “It is a cool Lego set, though,” my brother pointed out.

  Josh grinned a little. “I know. But that has nothing to do with my quest to avoid social suicide.”

  “Well, if we’re going to go to the store first, we’d better get going,” Trevor told him.

  The kid slid off his seat and said, “Okay. Hi and bye, by the way, Uncle Gi. Are you going to be at dinner tonight?” The family gathered every Sunday evening at Nana’s house.

  “Yup. Have fun at the party, I’ll see you later.”

  “Fun’s not really an option,” he told me gravely. “The best I can hope for is not completely humiliating myself.”

  “Well, good luck with that, then,” I said.

  Vincent kissed his son on the forehead and his husband on the lips before they left, then picked up some juice glasses from the counter and carried them to the sink. As he rinsed them out and put them in the dishwasher I told him, “I never would have imagined this for you, Vinnie, but it suits you incredibly well.”

  “What does?”

  “The husband, the house, the kid, this whole domestic bliss thing you’ve got going on. It’s incredibly sweet.”

  He turned toward me and said, “I got so damn lucky when I met Trevor. I never dreamed I’d have this, either.”

  “He got lucky, too,” I told him.

  My brother grinned embarrassedly and changed the subject by saying, “Should we bring some gardening tools with us?”

  “No, Tillane has a well-stocked toolshed. I don’t know why, since he has zero interest in doing yard work.”

  “Alright.” He grabbed a jacket from the back of a chair and pulled it on over his black t-shirt, then adjusted his silver-framed glasses exactly the same way Josh had adjusted his. “Let’s get going, then. Want me to drive?”

  “No, I will. We just need to make a quick stop at the market.”

  *****

  It took about an hour to cross the Golden Gate Bridge and head into Marin County, then meander down the long private drive to Zan’s house. I had to enter security codes at not one but two imposing gates, which slid open when I did that. There was a little security camera at the top of each gate, linked to a display screen in the den, so Zan was alerted to our arrival. I’d texted him earlier to ask if Vincent and I could come by, and he’d replied: Haven’t you got anything better to do? I’d written back ‘no’ and he’d texted: Suit yourself then.

  I expected him to hide in the den, like he had for weeks when I first started the job. But instead, Zan met my brother and me in the kitchen and stuck his hand out to Vincent. “Zan Tillane. Good to meet you, mate.” What the ever-loving hell? Never once had I gotten a ‘good to meet you, mate,’ or anything even remotely resembling a welcome. I’d assumed that it was some glitch in Zan’s personality, but now I realized it was just me he objected to, not visitors in general. Well, that was fucking special.

  I stared at the two of them for a few moments while they chatted like long-lost chums. Then I turned and left by way of the side door. Neither seemed to notice. Awesome.

  In the tool shed, I grabbed a couple narrow pruning saws and a ladder, then went to work on the huge old oak tree to the left of the house. I’d been at it a good twenty minutes before Vincent finally came outside. When I frowned at him he asked, “What?”

  “Are you two BFFs now? Did you braid his hair and talk about boys and make matching friendship bracelets?”

  “What exactly are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. I’m just annoyed because you two totally hit it off. I always thought he was antisocial because he won’t speak to me. But he’s not at all, he’s just anti-Gianni! What did I ever do to him?”

  “No clue. Want me to climb up there and help you?”

  “Yes, please.” Vincent picked up the second saw, then climbed the ladder and started cutting a dead branch. After a minute I asked, “What did you two talk about, anyway?”

  “Hair braiding. Boys. Friendship bracelets.” I shot him a look and he grinned at me before saying, “He asked me about myself and my family. He knew I’d recently gotten married and asked about Trevor. He wanted to hear all about Josh, too. He’s a really nice guy.”

  “To people he actually likes.”

  “We also talked about a few projects he wants to do around the house, and I told him I’d be glad to help him out.”

  “What kind of projects?”

/>   “Just little things,” Vincent told me, “like swapping out the shower head in the bathroom. I’m going to come back next week and give him a hand.” When I knit my brows he said, “What? It’s not my fault that he doesn’t like you.”

  “It’s not my fault, either. I’ve been perfectly nice to him! Well, except when he’s acting like an ass and I get in his face. But people who act like asses should expect that!”

  “And you wonder why he doesn’t like you.” Vincent cut through the branch and tossed it to the ground as I sighed and went back to sawing.

  *****

  My brother and I worked for a few hours before we finally decided to call it quits. We then dragged the dead branches well away from the house. “I’ll rent a wood chipper this week,” Vincent said. “We can turn these into mulch and use it around those bushes over to the right.”

  “Good idea. Thanks.”

  My brother paused for a moment and watched me as he pushed his damp hair back from his forehead. Finally he asked, “Why are you doing all of this? You’re salaried, so I know you’re not getting paid extra to come out here on a Sunday and trim trees.”

  “It just needs to be done.”

  “Why do you care, though?”

  “I worry about Zan,” I admitted. “I don’t care if he hates me, he still needs someone to look out for him. What if there’s a wildfire? He’s so vulnerable there in his house. I can’t protect him from everything, but maybe I can protect him from that ‘what if’.” My brother watched me for another moment, then grinned and went back to stacking the dead branches. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  After we put the tools away and he washed up in the garage’s utility sink, Vincent went into the house to say goodbye to Tillane. I washed up next, then remembered something and retrieved a small paper bag from the backseat of my car. My brother was coming out of the house just as I was heading inside with my purchase, and I told him, “I forgot to give this to Zan, I’ll be right back.”