“What?” His father’s chin came up. His accent was never thicker than when he was feeling cornered. “What will you do if I don’t roll over and do every damned thing the city tells me I have to do.”
“I’m done, is what,” Andrew said firmly.
“Done?” Reese’s chair clattered to the floor as he shot to his feet. “With me? You’d turn your back on family? The only family you got?”
“Just answer your door on Saturday morning.” Andrew let his own temper flare. It felt good. It felt righteous. He’d put up with his dad’s crap, given up work time, put his life—his lover—on hold. “I’m not knocking twice.”
Chapter 14
Before Andrew got into the shower, he plugged in his phone. Stupidly, he’d forgotten his charger when he’d gone to his father’s place, so he’d run out of battery sometime on Tuesday, and his phone had lain in his pocket dormant. He’d known a replacement charger was only a gas station or a phone store away. Hell, he could have gotten one at the grocery store where he’d picked up all those deli meals, but he hadn’t.
Andrew forced himself to admit he’d gone offline on purpose. He hadn’t checked his phone messages. Hadn’t read e-mails. At some point he’d noticed his phone had stopped ringing, but by then he’d been sucked so far into the nightmare that was his father’s house, he’d stopped caring what was going on in the outside world.
The work was…too hard. He and his father had argued over every single item Andrew laid his hands on. The arguments were wearing. They were futile.
Andrew felt like he’d supped with the fairies—like time outside stood still. Yet now, when he looked at all the missed messages on his phone, when he realized he’d ignored people who cared about him, his heart contracted with fear.
Reese Daley was old and stubborn. He was lonely, and yet he’d cut himself off from family and friends. He’d filled the void in his life with things and turned his back on the outside world.
Andrew had gotten so caught up in Reese’s drama he’d done the same thing.
He glanced at his phone again and found his mailbox was full.
How could Andrew explain his situation to someone like Eddie—someone who had a healthy family?
How could he tell Eddie that once he’d gotten under his father’s roof, he’d been drawn into his madness? That he’d fallen into that fatal role: the agreeable child.
He’d been unwilling to unmask his father, unwilling to tear away the veil that stood between his father and the world. But he’d been unwilling to expose the true crazy, even to himself. Andrew had tried to help, but as always he’d made no headway. He’d exhausted himself and fallen into dreamless sleep and awoken to another day of the same thing.
Andrew called Eddie’s phone and wasn’t surprised when Eddie answered right away.
“Eddie Vasquez.”
Shit. No hello. No segue into light conversation. Eddie’s voice sounded uncertain, and Andrew knew he’d put that wary edge there. “Eddie? It’s me.”
“I’ve got caller ID.”
Uh-oh. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”
“I figured you had a good reason.” The voice held a small amount of warmth. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Are we still on for tonight?”
“Sure.” Eddie’s response seemed quick enough. Maybe he wasn’t too mad. “Where?”
“What about that microbrewery on Brea Boulevard? I’ve never been there, but I have friends who recommend it.”
“Sure. What time?”
“What time is good for you?”
“I’m finishing up with something here, and I need to go home and change. How about…seven?”
“Great, I’ll see you there.”
“See you.” Eddie hung up.
That was good anyway. Eddie was keeping their date. Andrew had no idea how he was going to tell Eddie it didn’t look like he’d have much free time in the near future—not without it sounding like he was blowing Eddie off.
There was always the truth.
He could tell Eddie his deepest, most painful secret.
Andrew chewed his lip thoughtfully. Reese was going to hate anyone Andrew brought in to help. He was going to feel persecuted and shamed and thoroughly judged by anyone who saw how he lived, and Andrew wasn’t sure he wanted his father and Eddie to start off that way.
Eddie Vasquez was a keeper, and it was too soon to dump all the Daley family garbage, literally, on the man.
On the other hand, he had to start as he meant to go on, and he couldn’t lie to Eddie even by omission.
Maybe that was why, when given the choice to pick up a charger or let his phone just…go, Andrew had taken the easiest course. He’d wanted to buy himself time. Only now, he knew he had a decision to make, and he still wasn’t at all sure what he should do.
* * *
“Were you just making a date?” Mrs. Henderson asked. Her smile was knowing and pretty, as if she’d guessed his secret and now she got to gloat over it. “What must Eddie Vasquez’s girlfriend be like, I wonder.”
“I…uh…” Eddie felt a blush heat his face.
“She’s a very lucky girl, whoever she is.”
Eddie shook his head. He’d visited his old teacher three times since she’d been in the hospital, and every time she seemed different. Once, she’d asked him if he knew how she’d come to be there and whether Phil would be coming to get her soon. Once she’d been too tired to talk. Today appeared to be a good day. She knew who he was and that Phil was gone.
“It’s not a girl.” Eddie palmed his phone and passed it from hand to hand nervously. “I’m seeing Mr. Daley. The teacher who found you?”
Her eyes widened. “Eddie Vasquez, as I live and breathe.”
Eddie raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to say more. His heart raced. If she had a problem with him being gay…he didn’t know what he’d do. Maybe he should have played his private life a little closer to the vest.
“You’re a friend of Dorothy.”
“I…guess I am.” A friend of Dorothy? That made him laugh considering Dorothy was her name. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“I beg your pardon.” She literally smacked his arm. “Of course not. I’m just surprised. I figured you for a true ladies’ man. I expected you to have kids already.”
“My brothers and sister had to take up the family standard and carry it into the next generation.”
“No reason you can’t have a family with a man these days, Eddie.”
“I want kids. I just have to find the right guy. That’s harder than it looks.”
“You’re telling me? I was over thirty when I finally met Phil.” Sadness clouded her eyes. “We were lucky, but not as far as fertility goes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Didn’t you ever see Good-bye, Mr. Chips? I have hundreds of children. All kinds,” she paraphrased.
“I did see that movie,” Eddie admitted. “I’m not ashamed to say I cried like a baby at the end.”
“So. You’re dating a teacher.”
“Yep.”
“Good choice.” She preened like it was a personal compliment.
He laughed at that.
“And you have a date tonight, so what are you doing here talking to an old lady like me? You should be getting ready.”
“I don’t know…”
“What’s wrong?” Eyes as shrewd as he remembered squinted at him.
“It’s early days yet. You don’t always know where you stand with someone in the beginning.”
She wagged her finger at him. “You mark my words. Sooner or later he’ll figure out how lucky he is to be with a wonderful man like you.”
“Nah.” Eddie waved that away.
“I mean it. Just look at you. You rescue old ladies. And you’re such a snazzy dresser. My Phil only dressed up for special occasions. When the schools started casual Friday, it was as if he’d—”
Eddie watched her face fall, and knew
exactly what she’d been about to say. Died and gone to heaven. People did that after they’d suffered a loss—they realized how often they made morbid statements without thinking about them.
He changed the subject. “Are you looking forward to leaving here?”
“Yes and no.” She smiled sadly. “I’ll be glad to get out of the hospital, but I’d rather be going home.”
“You will. Soon, I’m sure of it.” Eddie reached over and clasped her fragile blue-veined hands in his. “I’ve got to be going, but I have the address of the new place, and I’ll come visit you there. Is there anything you think you might like me to bring you? A plant or something to make the place cheery?”
“I can’t think of anything. Maybe a decent cup of coffee?”
“You’re on.” Eddie made a mental note to ask Bill if coffee was okay. “I’ll see you then.”
“You’re a good boy. I always thought so.” Her green gaze fell on him again, assessing. “Tell your young man he’s very lucky in my book.”
“I will, Mrs. H.”
“And remember me to your family. They were a nice bunch, as I recall.”
Eddie thought he left Mrs. Henderson in fairly good spirits. He didn’t envy Laurence’s job as trustee. Taking responsibility for someone’s well-being seemed pretty daunting. Mrs. Henderson was not a kid who could be coerced by her youth and lack of resources. She was an adult who was used to commanding respect by virtue of age and education and status. Eddie’d already had to walk the narrow line between respect for Mrs. Henderson’s autonomy and the knowledge that despite her age she might need someone to take over and help her out.
He’d seen his parents’ struggle when his grandmother’s memory started failing. It was hard. It was heartbreaking.
He wouldn’t trade places with Bill Laurence for anything.
Chapter 15
Andrew got to the restaurant early and waited by the front door. He spent the few minutes before he saw Eddie drive up trying to rid himself of the residual aggravation of dealing with his dad. Eddie parked his car on the street and walked toward him with a shy smile. Andrew’s heart bounced off his diaphragm and into his throat.
Christ.
He’d seen Eddie dressed up. He was gorgeous. He looked like some Latino model in his silky suits and crisp shirts. He wore collar stays and cufflinks, for God’s sake. But tonight Eddie had chosen to go casual, and an Eddie dressed in jeans…
Andrew bit his lip.
Eddie was positively edible. His legs looked three times as long as his body—the well-worn denim clung to him from skater-style shoes upward to caress his package like parentheses. The waistband rode low on his hips. He wore a wide, weathered leather belt beneath a white T-shirt and a slim red V-neck pullover that did little to conceal the muscles covering his arms and torso. He’d pushed his sleeves up to reveal sinewy forearms and a chunky steel watch.
All man, thought Andrew. All mine.
Andrew’s knees nearly buckled when Eddie’s smile widened and he leaned in for a quick kiss. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Andrew turned to hide his giddy reaction.
Down, boy. Don’t blow your cool completely.
“How are you doing?” Eddie asked. There was something wary in his eyes.
“I’ll tell you over dinner.” Andrew realized Eddie had probably heard from Lucy that she’d had a substitute.
“Sure.” Eddie nodded stiffly. He opened the door and let Andrew go in ahead of him.
The hostess seated them in a small booth with a white tablecloth and a sparkling tea light.
“I could use a drink.” On Andrew’s agenda for the evening, social lubricant in the form of a glass of wine or maybe something even stronger came in at number one.
Eddie leaned back. “Me too.”
It struck Andrew then that he was handling things all wrong—that Eddie was looking at him as if he was expecting some kind of ax to fall.
Andrew had been so steeped in misery of his own he never even wondered how his absence—his silence—might have affected Eddie. Now that they were face-to-face, he didn’t have the words to reassure him. He just wanted a drink and a chance to forget.
He tried to make a comparison. “At Grime, you do some tough jobs, don’t you? Stuff that sort of sticks with you?”
“Yeah.” Eddie waited.
“Did they ever leave you feeling like…like you had nothing to say? Like you wanted to be with someone who gets you and doesn’t need you to talk for a while?”
“That’s where your head is at?” Eddie asked.
“Yes.” Andrew didn’t offer anything more.
Eddie gave a sharp, short nod in return. “All right.”
Andrew’s body relaxed fractionally. He blew out a deep breath and fidgeted with the silverware. The waiter came over to take their order, and Eddie asked what kind of tequilas they served.
“The tequila menu is in the wine binder,” the waiter told him.
“Yes, but I figured you’d know off the top of your head. I want an anejo. Do you pour aged tequilas?”
“They’re on the list if you’d—”
Eddie held his hand up to stop him. “Ask your bartender to pour me a shot of his favorite aged tequila. I trust his expertise.”
“Our bartender’s a woman, sir.”
“Crap.” Eddie covered his face with one hand. “My sister would kill me for making that assumption. Please ask her for her opinion and bring what she recommends. Sipping tequila, yeah? No limes, no salt. She’ll know what I’m after.”
“I’ll ask her.” The waiter turned to Andrew. “And for you?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“Can I get you started on any appetizers?”
Again, Andrew’s imagination came up short. He shook his head and glanced toward Eddie. “What goes with your tequila?”
“Do you like oysters?” Eddie asked.
“Not really, but I’m so hungry I’d probably make a go at them anyway.” Andrew frowned. “I’m not turning out to be very good company tonight, am I?”
Eddie shrugged that off and told the waiter to bring a basket of sweet potato fries.
After the man was out of earshot, Eddie said, “Anyone can have an off night. If you’re hungry, you should eat something, or the tequila will hit you too hard. When did you eat last?”
“Lunch, I guess. Noon.”
“So you aren’t likely to lose muscle tone from starvation or anything,” Eddie teased.
“Au contraire.” Andrew sighed. This he could do. Maybe joking around would help him get out of his funk. “I have the constitution of a hummingbird. I need to eat all the time.”
“All right. Help is on the way, if you can just hold on until the fries come.”
“Thanks. I owe you.”
“I agree.”
Andrew felt Eddie’s probing gaze. “What’s your week been like?”
“We did Mrs. Henderson’s place. I saw her this afternoon. They’re moving her into a group home temporarily until Bill can get her back to her place with someone he trusts to look after her.”
“That’s good.” A long silence stretched out between them. “Getting old must suck.”
“I missed seeing you at school. Is it okay if I say that?”
“What do you mean by okay?”
Eddie flushed. “I don’t want to sound like I’m prying.”
“No.” Andrew gave Eddie’s hand a firm squeeze. “I was at my dad’s for a few days, and I didn’t have my phone charger. I could have bought a charger, but I—”
“I probably just misunderstood the situation.” Eddie kept his voice level, but Andrew heard the hurt he tried to hide.
“No—”
The waiter returned. “The bartender says to tell you, you can’t go wrong with this. It’s oak-barrel-aged for five years with a peppery bite and a vanilla and caramel finish. She says if you don’t like it, she’ll come over here and drink it herself.” The waiter placed two shots on the table. “I’ll b
e right back with your sweet potato fries. Have you decided on dinner?”
Eddie glanced around. Andrew had the impression Eddie was avoiding the waiter’s gaze. “How do you prepare the salmon?”
“It’s given a brown-sugar glaze and then broiled on a cedar plank and topped with—”
“I’d like salmon, but can I get it grilled plain? Can you do that?” Eddie didn’t wait for the answer. “I’ll take a baked potato with that and whatever steamed vegetables you have.”
The waiter blinked at him. “I’ll see if we can do that. Would you care for soup or a salad? New England clam chowder or gumbo? Or a—”
“No, thank you.”
The waiter turned to Andrew, who realized Eddie had never even opened the menu. He picked up both menus and handed them back. “I’ll have the same.”
“All right. Is there anything else? Can I get you a bowl of chowder or gumbo or a blue cheese wedge salad?” Andrew shook his head, and the waiter gave up. “I’ll go put your order in, then. Let me know if you need anything else. I’m Tim, by the way.”
“Thanks, Tim.” Eddie gave him a brief smile.
Andrew asked, “I guess you come here a lot?”
“No. Why?”
“You never even looked at the menu. I thought you must eat here all the time.”
“I’ve never been here before.” Eddie watched the waiter cross the dining room. “But I always order the same thing in places like this. I get salmon or steak and a baked potato. Veggies, because I like to imagine this is all good for me.”
“What do you do if they don’t have salmon?”
“It’s a steakhouse. What steakhouse doesn’t have salmon?”
“I think you just like to give waiters fits.”
“And I think waiters should know what kind of tequilas they serve, and that not everyone likes to order straight off the menu.”
Andrew picked up his tequila and studied Eddie through the amber liquid. “What do I need to know about this drink?”
“You know how you always see people shoot tequila in the movies?”
Andrew nodded.
“You do not do that with this,” he said firmly. “This is for sipping slowly, just like brandy and cognac.”
Eddie: Grime Doesn’t Pay: The Brothers Grime, book 2 Page 11