Sinner's Gin

by Rhys Ford

  He’d thrown his most comfortable clothes into the duffel bag, and as he pulled out a pair of worn-through jeans, Miki wondered if he shouldn’t have dug out newer pants from the boxes in his bedroom. Shrugging on a pair with the least amount of holes, he found a black Se7en shirt to put on and walked barefoot into the fires of his own personal hell.

  Only to discover hell was very sparsely populated.

  In fact, the only occupants appeared to the one-headed Cerberus he’d brought with him and a slab of Irish slate masquerading as a man.

  He came through the mudroom as cautiously as he could, keeping an eye out for any stray Morgans lurking in the shadows. Dude barked a happy hello when he spotted Miki coming into the well-lived-in family room, and the terrier bounded over, wagging his tail hard enough to wiggle his entire back end. Bending over, Miki hissed a bit at the tightness in his ass but scruffed at the dog’s neck and ears, trying to avoid Dude’s nose-seeking tongue.

  “Hello, ye must be Miki.” A tree trunk dressed in loose denim and a T-shirt sprouted next to Miki’s arm, and he looked up, craning his neck to take in the enormity of the man holding his hand out to him. “I’m Donal, Kane’s da.”

  “Hey, how’re you doing?” Unsure of what else to do, Miki accepted the handshake and swallowed when he lost his hand in the man’s gentle grip. Standing, he stealthily eased Dude behind him with his foot, dislodging the terrier from his round-the-leg dance. “Um, thanks for taking us in. Sorry about the dog. He’s an asshole sometimes. Shit, sorry.”

  “Not a problem. Our house is always yours. And don’t worry about swearing around me. I’ve probably done worse than anything ye can say,” Donal replied, nodding to the open back door. “Hope ye don’t mind, Duke seems to like having the run of the yard.”

  “Ah, Dude. His name’s Dude.” Miki took a step back when Donal’s frown sketched over his face. “Sometimes he even comes when you call him.”

  “Remind me to talk to Brae about his hearing, then. Boy told me the wrong name.” The man let go an earthshaking chuckle. “Ye must be hungry. Come on to the kitchen, and I’ll get some food in ye. Won’t be anything gourmet, but I can turn a burger out with the best of them.”

  Donal Morgan had more than a head on him, and the man was about half again as wide, but he was welcoming, with a warm smile and eyes as blue as Kane’s, crinkling at the corners when he laughed. A dash of silver glinted in his thick blue-black hair, and a shock of soft strands fell over his forehead and brushed at the bridge of his straight nose. Donal’s work-worn hands moved as he spoke to Miki about his choices for lunch, the broad gold wedding ring on his finger burnished and nicked from years of wear. From behind, Donal looked as fit as his sons, his powerful frame moving easily under his loose jeans and T-shirt, and Miki felt more than a little weird thinking about how Kane’s shoulders compared to his dad’s.

  “Hope Dude’s been good.” Miki glanced down at his begging mutt. “He’s not… um… civilized. Kind of takes after me, I think.”

  “Ah, the dog’s been fine. Other than he’s collected some things from around the house and stashed them behind the couch there.” Donal winked at Miki when he groaned in disgust. “It’s all right, Miki boy. He’s a dog, and it’s all new for him. New smells and new people. We only had one small talk about dragging in the pool skimmer, but after that, he’s kept to shoes and the like. Now, cheese or no cheese on yer burger?”

  “Cheese would be cool.” Miki caught himself before he hitched up onto the counter, remembering Kane’s shocked expression. Several stools were tucked under the table set in the middle of the kitchen, and he pulled one out to sit on. Resting his elbows on the scarred wood, he watched Donal move from the fridge to the oven, gathering up cheese, meat, and onion rolls.

  “Are ye a vegetable eater?” Donal asked over his shoulder.

  Miki curled his lip. “Only if you make me.”

  “Good, then since it’s just us carnivores, we shall say we had some of the greens and agree not to speak of it if anyone asks,” he rumbled, shifting over to the table. After cracking an egg into a mixing bowl, Donal added the hamburger, breadcrumbs, and some seasoning, then gave Miki a look. “Ye mind me hands in there?”

  “Dude, you’re feeding me.” Miki smirked. “I don’t care what you use to mix it with.”

  “We’re going to be getting along fine there, then. Can ye grab the ketchup from the fridge there? Add some to this while I mix it up.” Donal washed his hands, then returned to massage the meat together. Miki squirted a few tablespoons into the meat and Donal nodded. “That’ll do. Thank ye, Miki. Leave it out on the table in case we want some more. I’ll toss some chips into the oven. We can have them with our burgers.”

  It was a comfortable space, and Miki glanced around, taking in the room without a battalion of Morgans surrounding him. He hadn’t seen much of it the first time, relegated to a rushed introduction, then hustled off to the family room to sit on one of the soft, long couches as Brigid shoved a plate of leftovers at him. Now he took his time studying the kitchen Kane grew up in. It was bright and cheery, much like Brigid. A china cabinet held some porcelain platters and a large wooden bowl carved so thin he could see light pouring through the translucent sides.

  “Did Kane do that?” Miki asked, pointing to the rough-edged bowl. It looked almost like a tiger lily, undulating up from the base, then flaring out suddenly. It was pretty, a rich golden grain run soft with darker sienna veins. “Make that bowl thingy?”

  “Aye.” Donal’s smile was a quiet light in his face. “He’s very good with his hands. I wish I had that kind of beauty inside of me but, ah, the best I can do is carve a turkey and hope there’s enough left for me by the time my hellions are done snatching up theirs.”

  The love in Donal’s face hurt. The softness of his pride stabbed Miki deep into his broken, screwed-up mind, and he had to look away, pinching his lips together to swallow the uneasiness welling up from his chest. Donal continued, but Miki couldn’t make sense of what the man was saying. Just hearing the affection in his voice stung, and Miki shook his head, scolding himself to pull it together.

  “What’s bothering you there, Miki?” Donal’s voice rolled over him. “I’m gathering it’s not the cheddar cheese.”

  “Nah, the cheese is fine.” Under the table, Dude gnawed at the end of a bone he’d been given, and Miki tsked at him to be quiet when he started making slurping noises. “Just thinking.”

  “About being in this crazy house while waiting for Kane to figure all of this shite out?” The man lobbed Miki’s unspoken anxiety into the middle of the kitchen, smiling as it went off. “I know that look on yer face. I had it myself when I met Brigid’s family. There’s eleven of them there, all underfoot and talking up a storm. It was like wading into an Irish tidal wave wearing nothing to protect me but a pair of stolen knickers.”

  “Those are panties, right?” Miki gave him a sidelong glance.

  “Aye, big blue ones, with flowers on them, even. My gran had a pair like that. She hung them out on the line to dry, and I used to worry they’d catch the wind and the house would sail away like it was on a kite.” Donal winked and tossed the heel of the bread loaf to a waiting Dude. “Don’t ye be telling my bride I’ve been feeding the dog in here, or she’ll have my nuts.”

  “Only one who’ll say shit about it would be Dude.” Miki shrugged. “And he knows keeping his mouth shut means more food for him.”

  “So if ye can imagine me, at the ripe age of twenty, sitting at a long table at the Finnegans’ and waiting for my girl to sit down next to me, when her da ambles up and whispers into my ear, ‘Boy, yer in me seat.’” Sliding the cheese over to Miki, he continued. “Unwrap a few of those for us, Miki. Four should do.”

  “What’d you do when he said that? Your father-in-law, I mean.” The package proved to be difficult, and when Donal turned his back to grab a frying pan for the stove, he tore at the corner with his teeth.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure I went whi
te with fear,” Donal laughed. “Ye see, Brigid’s da is a short man, shorter than me, anyway, but he’s built like a fireplug. He worked the docks for years, and I’d seen him take down men three times his size when they spoke ill of his wife down at the pub. I knew he could lay my scrawny arse out like I was a gnat buzzing about his ear. So I did what any Irish man would do. I stood up, apologized, and made for the door. Without any supper, mind ye.”

  “And she married you anyway?”

  “She had to,” Donal said. “I loved her. With all of my heart. But see, my family… the Morgans… they’re not one for joking and laughing as much as the Finnegans. No, we’re a more sober family, so while her da was joking with me, I didn’t have it in me to understand that. The Finnegans, they’re a clan that spends most of their time having fun, so it took me a while before I was comfortable around it. By the time my first boy, Connor, came along, I knew that’s the kind of house I wanted him to be raised in. Someplace he’d feel warm inside, able to laugh. Do ye understand me?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Miki replied, frowning.

  “What I’m saying to ye, Miki boy, is that I know how ye feel about being caught in the storm of this family, and if ever it gets too much for ye, you come over to me, and I’ll stand in front of ye until the winds die down a bit.” Donal put his hand over Miki’s wrist and gave it a loose squeeze.

  “They’ll take some getting used to, and they’ll have to get used to you too. Push back if ye need to. Some of mine are a bit dense, and they need a bit of a slap across the brain sometimes to get them going,” Donal continued. “Ye got a good one there with Kane. He’s got a good heart. My temper, though, so I apologize to ye for that, but he’ll never do more than raise his voice at ye. And then probably feel bad about that afterwards. If I’ve taught them one thing, it’s that they’re strong, stronger than most. They’ve got to take care with that. Ye’ll never have to worry about him taking a hand to ye.”

  “I’d kill him if he did,” Miki snorted. “He’s got to sleep sometime.”

  “Good for ye.” Donal beamed. “Just remember that snarl when my bride comes at ye with her succotash. Love her to death, but that shite’s nasty. Don’t let her feed it to ye. Once it passes yer lips, she’ll be shoving it down ye for the rest of yer life.”

  “Got it. I didn’t even know it was real,” Miki conceded, passing over the unwrapped cheese slices. The sizzle of meat hitting the hot frying pan was followed by the heavenly aroma of burgers cooking, and Miki’s mouth watered. “Can I ask you something?”

  “About Kane?” Donal glanced at him, and Miki nodded. “About him being gay or a cop like his da?”

  “Gay,” Miki murmured. “I can’t see him being anything but a cop.”

  “True,” the man replied as he added rings of onions to the pans to grill. “Even as much as he loves making things, he’d rather wear a badge if he had to make a choice. Go ahead. Nothing ye can ask that someone else hasn’t already.”

  “How’d he know he was gay? I mean, for sure?”

  “Okay, I was wrong, that is something I haven’t been asked before.” Donal grinned. “How’d he know he was gay? Simple, Miki boy. He likes men. Easy as that. A man’s body makes him sit up and look. Kane’s the easy one. He knows himself and what he likes… what he wants. He brought ye here, or at least didn’t butt heads with his mum about it. He’d have taken ye out before my bride could take a breath if he didn’t. Kane wants ye here, in the place he learned to live and love. That’s how I know that yer someone special to him. Quinn, now… that one’s got a bit of trouble in his heart, but he’ll find his way soon enough.”

  “And you’re okay with that? With them liking guys?” Donal was an aberration. Even as free-spirited and open as the city was, Miki never really knew any parents okay with their sons loving men. Damien’s parents treated his sexuality like it was a mole on his nose, something to be ignored and not mentioned in public.

  “Miki, I can tell ye one thing for sure,” Donal said, waving the spatula in the air to make his point. “I taught my sons to be men. I don’t care who they love. I care about how they act. The moment they stop having manners or treat someone poorly, then we’ll have words. Other than that, I only want them to be happy, and if you make Kane happy, then all I have to say to ye is welcome to the family. Now pass the salt, boy. I’ve got to season the meat, or it’ll be like eating a stale cracker.”

  Chapter 19

  Her tears are long gone, stained with ice and despair,

  And no one knows why. ’Cause they sure don’t care.

  A rose on her stone gave me grace from above.

  The dirt on my hands is as cold as her love.

  —Dirt and Stone

  THE trip out to Zhang’s apartment building was a bust. Doug Zhang’s life was a bleak trail of blood and sorrow through the San Francisco foster system. Removed and returned to his parents more than a dozen times, he was in and out of temporary homes, a typical statistic made more depressing by the abuses he suffered under Carl Vega’s hands. According to his file, Doug was a simple but quiet child, unperturbed at living with strangers and obedient to a fault. The perfect gift for a man like Carl Vega.

  Before his death, Zhang lived in a run-down cinder block former motel. Scraggly clumps of weeds filled most of the thin scrap of landscaping in front of the structure, and the building’s white walls were grayed from dust and peeling at the foundation. It was a depressing, lackluster place to live.

  And surrounded by an elementary school and two day cares.

  After nearly two hours of pounding the sidewalks, they found no one who’d cared enough about Zhang to pay attention to who visited him. Kane thought it was a sad commentary about the man’s life. Sanchez grunted in sympathy, then complained his stomach was empty.

  Inching the unmarked sedan into a parking space in front of a taco shop, they both sighed with relief that the car made it back to the City. They’d secured the black Crown Vic from Motor Pool with a stern admonishment from the administrator to return the car in pristine shape. Kel grumbled they’d have to get someone to do body work on the Ford before they came back, and Kane resigned himself to a lifetime of motor pool rejects following the sour look they got.

  The sedan wasn’t going to win any prizes. The backseat’s vinyl was cracked and smelled, strangely enough, of lavender and burnt chicken feathers, but the radio worked, and up until Sanchez took a bump in the road too fast, the onboard computer linking them to the SFPD database responded smoothly. After their reenactment of an old Starsky and Hutch car jump shot, the Crown Vic rattled back onto its tires and the computer screen turned blue, leaving a few lines of squiggling white code behind. It also hesitated a second when Sanchez hit the gas, as if it needed to contemplate going another foot forward.

  “Odd place for someone like Zhang to live.” Kel slid a tray of chips and salsa onto a bright orange picnic table. Passing a carnitas burrito over to his partner, he opened up his Styrofoam container and inhaled the aroma coming from his carne asada fries. “Single guy. Place is crawling with kids. It was creepy.”

  There’d been piles of toys in front of many of the apartments’ doors, and Zhang’s old place on the first floor faced the street. Anyone sitting in the living room would have a clear view of the schools’ playgrounds and the children who frolicked there.

  “Just because he was molested doesn’t mean he passed it on down the line.” They both knew the stats and the high likelihood of Zhang reaching out to normalize his shattered world in the only way he knew how, but Kane wasn’t ready to hang Vega’s crimes on one of his victims. “Maybe he liked listening to kids laugh. Doesn’t sound like he had much of it when he was young. Neighbors said he was nice. Didn’t bug anyone.”

  “Makes me want to shoot every single asshole who’s ever touched a kid, you know?” Sanchez’s voice was soft but hot with emotion. “Someone pull that kind of shit with my sisters, I’d kill him. I know it’s the job, man, and if this asshole wasn’t fuckin
g with St. John, it’d be hard to hate this guy.”

  “That asshole gutted a man just for smoking outside. Get some food in you so we can find Beanie Boy.” Kane bit into his burrito, sucking at the juices filling the wrapped tortilla before the liquid dripped down his hand. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and get someone who recognizes him from Vega’s neighborhood. We just need a damned name. Shit, anything. I just want Miki safe.”

  “Have you thought about what you and him are going to do when this is all over?” Kel sprinkled spicy red sauce on his fries, not meeting his partner’s quizzical glance. “You know, when you go back to being a cop and he goes back to being a rock star.”

  “We never stopped being those things,” Kane replied. “I figure we’ll eat together, have sex, and argue about him getting some physical therapy for that leg of his.”

  “So you really think this….” The man waved his hand around in the air. “This thing between the two of you is going to last after this?”

  “Yeah, Kel. I do.” Kane put down his food and leaned his elbows on the table. “See, I get it now. For a long time, I couldn’t figure out how my dad and mom stayed together. They’re too different. They like different things. Hell, they can’t even agree on what kind of Christmas tree to get, so it never made sense that they were… inseparable.”

  “And now you do? Because of St. John?”

  “Yeah, I do,” he replied softly. “People like my mom and Miki are like kites. They need the sky. They need the wind. Me and my dad? We’re the people holding the string. We’re their anchors to the earth. Miki and I can feel each other through the connection.”

  “Huh, how does that work out? You’re… wait, you’re not the string. You’re holding the string.”

  “Yeah, dude. I’m holding the string.” Kane laughed at Kel’s confused look. “I can feel the power of the wind catching Miki, lifting him up and dropping him down. He can feel the world beneath me, and he knows… he trusts me not to let go… not to let him drift off into the sky. And when he gets too tired of flying, he knows I’ll reel him in and take care of him. Just like my dad does with my mom.”