by Pat Henshaw
I shook my head.
“Any ideas?”
I shook it again.
“Since you’re doing the music and I’m one of the groomsmen, how about if we go in together? Hayden thinks this is stupid, but I kind of like the idea of getting them a Tahoe wedding package at one of the casinos. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me. Yeah, I’ll go in with you for it.”
He leaned even closer. “You know what it means if we sign both our names to the card, don’t you?” He quickly looked around at all the guys ignoring us while Larry tried to get everyone’s order and refills. “It means we’ll be saying we’re boyfriends.”
He was staring at me as if I might have some objection. But my euphoria pulled my lips into a huge smile, and I laughed.
“So it’s okay with you?” He looked worried as he asked.
“What’s the word for more than okay? Wonderful?” Happiness buoyed me.
“Okay. Okay!” He bounced in his seat. His besotted look probably mirrored mine.
He sat back, then got up and moved to my side of the booth, where he plunked himself down.
“Right. Boyfriends.” He looked over at me with an even bigger grin. “Sounds so fucking junior high. I’ve never had a boyfriend before. Now what do we do?”
“No clue.” I shrugged.
He grabbed my hand and put our clasped hands on the tabletop for everyone to see.
“Guess we’ll have to make up the rules as we go along.”
Now his look was turning impish and lewd. “Great idea.”
Fortunately, the food came before we did.
WE’D BEEN chatting about something, one of those conversations where both of us had other things on our minds but we didn’t want to look like we were ignoring each other, when Vic looked up and his black eyes pierced me.
“I admire you, man.”
Me?
“You know I like your playing and singing, right?”
I nodded. But I didn’t see either of those as admirable.
“I like the way you’re true to your ethnicity. You don’t look like a Native and have no idea about your people’s beliefs and traditions like me. You come from hard-working, compassionate people, and you reflect that lifestyle to the guys in the bar.”
I started laughing, and he looked puzzled and a little hurt.
“What?”
“First of all, I don’t know what my roots or who my ‘people’ are. I was adopted by a hard-drinking guy who was overwhelmed by responsibility, suffered PTSD, and was probably gay but didn’t ever admit it. He was a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but he didn’t give me any hints as to his ethnicity or its mores. His father, my granddaddy, was another recovering vet who meant well, but couldn’t shake the horrors he’d seen on the battlefield any more than his son could. They adopted me because I was an abandoned child and I was lame, which meant I’d never be drafted or go to war. They adopted me as their good deed. There’s no ethnicity in my background at all. I’m all mutt.”
Larry swept by, and I handed him my empty glass to get more iced tea.
Vic was frowning as if he were having trouble following my bare-bones autobiography.
“The songs I sing? I hear something I like and I adapt it to the show. I’ve been asked to cover glam rock, Harley favorites, show tunes. You name it and some customer has asked for it. But when Stone asked me to play, I said I was interested only if I could do what I wanted on stage. He agreed. Again, no ethnicity.”
I shook my head and took a huge gulp from the full glass Larry’d dropped off at the table.
“I don’t know what you’re seeing up there on stage, but it’s only me. No ethnic group, no ancestry, no ‘people.’ Just me.”
He grabbed my hand, but I pulled it back.
“You walk into Bandy’s Finest Hotel, and you walk into history. You want me, you get nothing but me.”
“But… almost all of your songs are along the same lines, so you must be making some kind of statement.”
I laughed. “I thought we were a lot alike, considering you were brought up by Hebron.”
He shook his head. “No. You never ran away from the hotel, did you? I ran away from the Wellers every chance I got.” He rested back against the of the booth.
I looked down when the alarm on my phone rang.
“We’ll have to continue this later. I’ve—we’ve got a quick wedding present to buy, and then I’ve got to get dressed and ready for the wedding.” I grinned at him. “As the boyfriend of the singer, do you want to help me carry my instruments to the church?”
“Wow. No pressure, right?” We laughed. “Yeah, sure. What’s a boyfriend for if not for free labor?” he asked.
We hurried from the Bottom and zoomed away to celebrate someone else’s holy matrimony.
THE HOTEL exuded chaos when we got to town. Greg and Jax were in the foyer surrounded by guys, all of whom seemed to be talking. The hotel guests were demanding all sorts of perks the Bandy wasn’t up to providing.
“What are we supposed to do?” Greg asked when I pulled them into the back room. Jax was wringing his hands. Greg’s rheumy eyes and flushed face worried me.
“Okay, tell me what they want.” I peeked out the door at the men lining up at the front desk. As Greg and Jax started listing their demands, I realized with a little help, we could accommodate the guests. I turned to Jax. “Are your ladies still here? Or have they gone home?”
“Everyone’s here, boss. They just don’t know what to do.” His voice betrayed how much he was fretting.
“You and Greg go get them together in the breakfast room. Now.”
They scurried off as I hurried behind the desk.
Like bees to a hive, men buzzed around me and Vic, who’d stayed at my side.
“I need…” followed by requests, rang around us.
“Hold on, hold on. One at a time. Vic, can you write down what they need?” He nodded and grabbed a notepad and pen. “If you want something, tell Vic. We’ll try to get everything done as fast as we can. Be sure to give him your name, room number, and your cell number if you want something picked up and delivered.”
The hoard shifted, lining up to talk to Vic. Now I only had a couple of people in front of me.
As Vic took down the requests and contact information, I cleared up the questions of the few people left over—mostly having to do with where boutonnieres were being kept—and when those guys were gone, I stepped into the breakfast room.
“Okay, ladies, I’m begging for your help right now. You’ll get double time if you’ll be on my ironing team.” The six women sitting at tables around the room giggled. “I think we should set up in Greg’s room with five of you manning—” More laughter erupted. “—okay, womanning, the boards and one of you with Jax picking up and returning the items. How does that sound? Everyone with me?”
All of them nodded, and Gloria stood up.
“Great idea, boss. I’ll take over from here. And you’re first.” She held her hand out to me.
“What?”
“Give me your outfit for pressing. Then get going to the church.” The women around her nodded.
“Uh, yeah, okay. Um, I’ve got a, um, boyfriend now? Vic?” The women burst into applause. “So could you do his suit too?”
I was blushing so hard I felt light-headed. The women were cooing and nodding as Gloria hugged me, then turned to get the others organized.
Just as I thought I was going to die of well wishes and lewd remarks, Vic came in with the request list. The flock of women turned on him. He looked panicked as they squeezed him and offered their congratulations.
When everyone had settled down and left to start the ironing brigade, he turned to me.
“You told them.” His voice accused, but his eyes twinkled. “Damn, I hope never to have to go through that again. You’re my first and last boyfriend if that’s what I can expect.”
I laughed and poked him.
“Go get your suit a
nd bring it to Greg’s room. We’re first on their list for pressing.”
He gave me a quick kiss and a nod, then left.
Boyfriends. Huh. Felt nice. Felt as if I belonged to someone, as if I belonged to more than the hotel.
IT WASN’T until the moment when the grooms exchanged vows and rings, when I was strumming the guitar softly, that it hit me how quickly and happily the women had rallied and backed me up to make this morning work. I’d counted on the hotel family and my newly minted boyfriend to back me up, and they hadn’t let me down.
Lost in my gratitude and amazement, I nearly missed the cue for the processional at the end, with Vic and the other groomsmen marching out like an honor guard. He was so handsome and striking that I was again amazed that we were together. How had I found a boyfriend without looking for one? How did these things happen?
I knew a stack of work would be waiting for me when I got back, from checking on Calvin to Jax not knowing how to log double time for the ironing brigade. But for the moment, while Vic and I enjoyed walking around the park and eating wedding cake, I let myself relax and enjoy life.
I realized pure joy was bubbling through my veins. I was truly happy. Much more than I’d ever been in my life. I let myself enjoy my euphoria and sloughed off the immediate future. I would deal with what came next when I met it.
9
THAT NIGHT in bed, exhausted after a full day and worn out from lovemaking, I snuggled in as Vic spooned us together, his head behind mine.
“Thanks,” I whispered. I’d thanked him so many times for all the things he’d done to help me that he was probably tired of hearing me, but I knew I could never have gotten through the day without breaking down if he hadn’t been by my side.
He merely sighed and yawned, his breath at first tickling, then gusting past my ear.
“You’re good at taking command in a crisis.” He kissed my ear and nuzzled into my hair. “You know how to break big jobs into little ones and cut through what look like obstacles.”
His words made me feel big and powerful, which was a strange feeling for me. I’d done what I had to do, like always. Was taking charge and clearing up problems so odd?
I started to ask him, but his stillness and tension behind me told me he was thinking. I was surprised at how well we worked together and how little we’d had to communicate verbally. Where had this ability come from?
“I was thinking about my foster father, Hebron, a lot today. He and Tobias are the kind of big, strong guys who get caught up in crises, and instead of evaluating and delegating like you did today, they get angry and start blaming others, shouting for someone else to fix the problem. When the others can’t or don’t—or even worse, won’t—fix it, they use their fists and beat them as if the blows and injuries will make the problem go away quicker.” He kissed my neck, and I settled in to listen, appalled at what he was telling me about his childhood. My gentle warrior had needed hugs but had gotten beatings.
“At first, because I was so different from them and we weren’t blood related, I figured I just didn’t understand white ways. I thought there was some innate something I was missing. And I’d wonder how my own father would have handled the crisis.” He gave a soft laugh. “I imagined my father as a great chief whose insight and wisdom commanded respect by everyone around him.”
Another kiss and another pause.
“Then one night when Hayden and I were hiding in the barn, running away from one of his dad’s endless rants and his angry fists, it hit me. While I’d built myself up as a mighty warrior, the perfect son for the perfect father, I suddenly knew who my dad was. He wasn’t a warrior, but a coward. Instead of fighting for his infant son, my dad had abandoned me.”
I snuggled closer to him, but before I could say anything, he gave me a quick kiss. I was bleeding for him. “Oh, my cowardly father probably had his reasons, and they might have been really good. But when push came to shove, he thought my best chance in life was to have someone else guide me, even if that someone turned out to be much worse than he was.”
This time his hand went from my waist to my chest, and he hugged us closer.
“I realized that if I wanted a fearsome warrior in the family, I’d have to become him. No one was going to save me. No one was going to love me if I didn’t become someone loveable. That’s when I started applying myself in school. But I always wondered if I was right about my dad.”
I got what he was saying and regretted what had happened to him. But something bothered me about his search for his ancestors. Why was he looking so hard for this mythical relative? Did the person even exist? Did he think he’d find his warrior relative if he sought him hard enough? Or was he searching for the proverbial needle in the haystack? And why was he looking for the photo in dinky little Stone Acres?
“So you’re looking for a picture of your ancestor. But why do you think there’s a photo of the man here if you don’t know any of your relatives?”
His hand relaxed and he snuggled closer.
“Hayden and I were at a party in the Bay Area, and this guy walked up to me, at first giving me all the Native American mumbo jumbo. Who were ‘my people’ and stuff like that. When I convinced him my people weren’t who he thought they were and that I was from the Salinas area and a working farm, he was surprised. He told me he’d seen a picture somewhere—maybe in a hotel in the foothills—somewhere around Stone Acres. In the photo, a guy with my face wearing a headdress and buckskins was standing with a bunch of white men. Hayden and I started hunting down the photo every time we got out this way.”
I sighed. “Well, I hope you find it. At least you’d get to reclaim a part of your past that way.” I also hoped finding his ancestor would help erase some of the pain of his childhood and bring him peace.
IN THE morning the hotel was again in turmoil, but this time my wake-up call was from Gloria, who said that Greg was making noises like he was sick.
Vic and I hurriedly dressed to find most of the hotel family at Greg’s locked door. We could hear groaning coming from his room, so I told Gloria to call Yarnell and the sheriff and get them out here. Then I used my pass key to open the door.
We found him on the floor, groaning and clutching his arm.
Vic told Jax to get some aspirin, and I put it under Greg’s tongue, quieting him by humming one of his favorite hymns.
After Yarnell and Lloyd had come and gone, taking Greg to the clinic and possibly to the hospital about ten miles away, I was at the desk answering visitors’ questions, mostly about how to get to Tahoe and what there was to do in the area.
Greg’s possible heart attack shook me. He, Justine, Raynetta, and Jax had saved me after my father’s and granddad’s deaths. Before my dad and granddad died, my dad and the others had accepted me into their inner sanctum. I’d become a young member of their adult group. After years of battling about how the hotel should be run and where the money should be spent, we’d all decided to agree to disagree even as my dad transferred the power of running the hotel to me.
I remembered back when Greg and Jax had arrived at the hotel. Both were in their late forties or early fifties, my granddad’s age. They’d introduced themselves to my dad as a couple in a relationship made up of fifteen years of one-night stands, something I didn’t understand at the time, but thought was funny now. They weren’t together, but they were together, they’d told him, and wanted a resting place where they could be themselves.
One of the things I loved best about my relatives was how readily they folded those who asked to be part of a family into ours. As a kid I’d grown up with what seemed like an extralarge group of adult men to correct and guide me. But not one of them ever hit me or threatened to do so.
My life had been so different from Vic’s, but we were both products of white men. He wanted to find his roots, where he came from and where he belonged. I knew my place in the world and accepted it. Neither of us knew our biological parents, but our lives, which should have seemed similar on so
me level, were worlds apart, mine in part because of men like Greg.
As I stood at the front desk thinking, Vic brought me a cup of coffee.
“Thanks.” I took a sip and looked over at him. “This isn’t our coffee. In fact, it tastes suspiciously like one of Jimmy’s special blends.”
He shrugged. “I was talking to a couple of the women upstairs, and they said it’s your favorite. Were they close?”
I watched as he idly reorganized some slips of paper, and it hit me again how lucky I was to have found him. Or for him to have found me.
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
He’d stopped organizing and was now paper-clipping the stack together.
He looked up, a startled and slightly guilty look on his face. “Uh, I thought you’d want the check-in receipts organized?”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll do it later. Don’t you want to go see Tahoe? Or go out with some of the guys?”
“Why?”
“What? What do you mean why? Isn’t this your vacation? Time off work?”
“Kinda, but not really. I told you I’m taking time off before I set up my office here, so I’m on my own time.” He ran an adobe-colored hand through his black hair. “If you don’t need me, I can go in and look for my ancestor’s picture.”
He sounded reluctant, which struck me as odd.
“Look. You don’t have to do any of this stuff. The hotel’s a huge vacuum cleaner that, if you don’t watch out, sucks up people’s lives and gives them no relief. I don’t want that to happen to you if you hang around me.”
He looked down at his hands and the stack of receipts. I couldn’t tell if he could see them or was looking through them. Then he shook his head. He raised his gaze to mine.
“You don’t get it, do you?” He slowly walked toward me, with us finally ending up nose to nose. He bent his head and kissed my neck. “I know I don’t have to do anything here. I also know you don’t get it that you have an entire army of people behind you who want to help, who are all but begging to help, who love you and want you to relax and have fun. I’ve appointed myself the general of that army, and unless you court-martial me, I’m going to be the most tenacious leader and lover you’ve ever seen.”