City Boy, Country Heart: Contemporary Western Romance (Heart of the Boy Book 2)

by Andrea Downing

  “What’ll it be?” The girl’s come-hither smile distracted him. “Have you tried the pumpkin spice yet? Good this time of year.”

  “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Grande please. And one half decaf, half mint mocha cappuccino grande with…something or other.”

  “Whipped cream?”

  “Probably.” He reached into his back pocket, hoping his wallet would cough up enough money for these outrageous brews, pulled out a twenty and laid it down just as Adnan appeared.

  “I will pay, I will pay.” Adnan grabbed the bill and put a ten down, stuffing the twenty back in Chay’s hand.

  “No….”

  But the barista gave Adnan his change. The two men moved over to wait for their coffees.

  “Why did you do that? I’m the one who’s working, Adnan.”

  “But I am the one who is leaving. So I may spend my dollars with impunity.”

  “Leaving? Shoot, when?” Chay felt even worse than he had this morning. A line from a song drifted through his head, something about ‘you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone’. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to like Adnan and count on his company.

  They slipped their cups into cardboard sleeves and settled at a table in the corner.

  “This is not working for me, Chay.” Adnan stared at the plastic lid of his drink as if an answer might be written there. “I am missing my fiancée and she is having trouble getting a visa to come. She has never traveled out of Pakistan—out of her city, in fact—and the consulate is suspicious of her. Suspicious! My beautiful Afifa, thought to be some sort of criminal! Can you imagine?”

  “Well, I’ve never….” Chay started to say he had never considered her at all, in fact had never even known her name, but he thought better of it. “I don’t understand. Why won’t they let her in?”

  “It is as I have told you: she has never traveled. Therefore, her sudden desire to join me in these United States puts her under suspicion. They must think she is some sort of terrorist. Nothing could be further from the truth. We have been so pro-American, you would think we are more American than you!”

  Chay kept his thoughts on that to himself. At a loss for words to comfort his friend, it was difficult not to think of his own situation. He had been the one to give up his life to be with K.C., and the difficulties of having done so were, he felt at times, nearly killing him. On top of that, the loss of Adnan as a friend left him with a bunch of predominantly gay actors posing as waiters for short periods of time between theatre jobs. He had nothing against either gay men or actors, but he didn’t have much in common with them either, other than how awful it was to be a waiter.

  Late that night, with the bedroom door locked against whatever demons might lurk outside, exhausted from another bad night of serving to taxing patrons, Chay pulled the covers up and mustered K.C. into his arms.

  “Adnan’s leaving. Going back to Pakistan at the end of this semester.”

  “I know.” K.C. peered up into Chay’s face, assessing him.

  “You knew? How long? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shuffled to sit up, releasing herself from his embrace to face him. “I thought you knew, of course. When you didn’t say anything I just assumed….”

  “What? What did you assume?” Anger rose like bile in Chay as he whipped around to face her.

  “Why are you so angry? I assumed you knew, is all. You seem to see more of him than I do. I sometimes pass him on the street on campus and stuff, but you run with him and see him more socially than I.”

  “When did he tell you?”

  “Geesh, Chay, don’t bust a gut over it. Yesterday, I think. Am I supposed to tell you everything the minute I hear? You were still steaming over the meal with my parents and I was just trying to sidestep anything that would further upset you. You came home from work in a mood—”

  “I didn’t come home from work in a mood.”

  “Well, you’re certainly in one now.”

  They stared at each other, Chay trying to feel less like his blood was boiling, but it wasn’t working. Without prompting, he blurted out, “And I’m not taking that damn high school test. It’s idiotic, a waste of my time—”

  “A waste of your time? Why? Because you prefer going to the gym and running and heading to museums and reading?”

  “What the hell is the matter with that? It’s more educational than those stupid questions.” He jumped out of bed and grabbed one of the books in a pile in the corner. Flicking through the pages, he found a sample to give her. “Here, look at this. Look at this crap, K.C. Do you think this is the sort of thing that can hold my interest? That I’m happy doing?”

  She flicked a quick glance over the question about basketball players. “It wasn’t supposed to make you happy, Chay. The idea was to give you a high school diploma so you could—”

  “Yeah, yeah, so I could go on to college. I’m not going to college, K.C. Once and for all, now hear this….” He put his hands to his mouth as if it were a megaphone. “I, Chay Ridgway, am not going to college.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Chay; at some point you’ll want this and you’ll be sorry if you don’t finish.”

  “The only thing I’m going to be sorry about….”

  But he left the sentence unfinished, slipped back into bed, and stared at the ceiling.

  K.C. rested on one elbow staring at him for a time before she, too, lay down.

  Then he rolled to his side to face her and gathered her back into his arms. They had enough to deal with, and he didn’t want the tensions escalating.

  If he could help it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Let’s go see the lights. Let’s have a day out in New York holiday season, see the tree at Rockefeller Center and all the shop windows, maybe even go ice skating. It’s Saturday, you have the evening off, it’s a few days to Christmas….” K.C. grabbed Chay by his jacket lapels and gave him a sound smacker on the lips.

  “Wow, what the heck’s got into you today? I put out the garbage and come back to a different woman.” He slouched out of his coat.

  “Ohhhh, don’t take it off. Come on, let’s go, can’t we? Get out of the house for a change, no studying, no moaning about exams or restaurant guests or parents or…or housemates—”

  “Where is she, by the way?”

  “I don’t know.” K.C.’s shoulders slumped in expectation of Chay making an excuse to stay in. He always seemed to want to avoid going out these days, was always reluctant to do anything but stay at home on his days off. “What difference does it make anyway? I think she’s gone home for the weekend.” She bided her time before starting her attack once more. “If you can use that darn skateboard, I’m sure you can ice skate.”

  He picked up the mail on the kitchen table and glanced through it.

  Bills. Nothing but bills, she knew.

  “I can skate,” he said half to himself.

  “Great! A skating cowboy!”

  “Hardly a cowboy anymore,” he muttered, throwing the letters back down. His glance met hers and she tilted her head in expectation.

  “City boy. Just for a short while, Chay. I know how you feel. Really I do!”

  “Do you?”

  K.C.’s lungs filled with air she slowly let out while her heart was in her throat. “No. I don’t know, do I? I don’t know, Chay. But it’s only a short time. We will move back. I promise you. I promise, Chay. But while we’re here in New York, don’t you think we should be making the best of things?”

  He hooked his thumbs in his jean pockets. “Honest? I thought I was. Aren’t I making the best of things?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Okay, look. Do you want me to change?”

  “Change?”

  “Change clothes, dumb-dumb. Change clothes. What did you think I meant?”

  “I thought…it doesn’t matter. Never mind. No, of course you don’t have to change clothes. Wear what you’ve got on, we’re only going window shopping and
maybe ice skating. You’re fine. Absolutely fine. Oh, gosh, this is going to be so much fun! I can’t wait for you to see all the lights and the tree and everything.”

  That got a small smile from Chay, but K.C. could see he wasn’t all that enthusiastic. She was just going to have to make him enjoy it, give him a day to remember, a real New York holiday season day.

  * * *

  They emerged from the subway, arms linked, at Bryant Park, and walked straight into more people than Chay thought were in the entire state of Wyoming. He could feel his stomach muscles tighten, his throat contract, his breathing become difficult. Crowds. He hated crowds. And this was solid people. Millions and millions of people.

  In order to remain together, he grabbed K.C.’s hand and held on tight. Chay could feel her swing her handbag around to the front on her shoulder so she was sure it was there and no pickpocket could get into it. He glanced at her and grimaced.

  “Is all of New York out today?”

  “I didn’t think…well, I thought it wouldn’t be as bad as Black Friday and all those days after Thanksgiving. I thought it would have loosened up a bit.”

  “Obviously not.”

  She tried to pull him closer. “I’m sorry. I really thought—”

  “It’s fine. It’s not your fault.” He was trying not to panic. The pushing and pulling of the crowd, people trying to go across him, into him, this way, that, was not like anything he had ever experienced. All he could do was move forward. Hang on to K.C. and move forward, not think about the other people, take his time. Police whistles blew and Chay watched as traffic cops stepped out to wave cars on. Barriers were up, and at one point, they had to cross the street and cross back once more. It was a nightmare. A living, breathing nightmare.

  “Look, there’s Saks! Let’s get over and see their windows. You’ll love it.”

  Chay doubted he would love anything at this point other than getting home into the warmth and relative quiet of their apartment, but he let K.C. lead him across the street and get into the line to see the Saks Fifth Avenue windows at their leisure. ‘Land of One Thousand Delights’ did not delight him in the least. Mannequins in strange postures no ordinary woman would pose. A fantasy of pink Barbie doll creatures in Wonderlands of candy canes along with other-worldly figures. He didn’t get it. He didn’t get any of it: why people would suffer this crush, this swarming mass of people, when they could be out in the open somewhere or at home. He put his arm around K.C. and pulled her close.

  “You’re hating this, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Hate is a very strong word,” he mumbled. “But I don’t find much joy in all this. Do you?” It was a genuine question. He was curious if she was really enjoying herself.

  K.C. didn’t answer except to say, “Let’s go get in the line to skate at Rockefeller Center.”

  Having pushed their way to the corner, crossed the street and got to the line for the skating rink, K.C. left Chay to hold their place so she could ask what the cost would be. He took in the scene and tried to enjoy it: the skaters below doing their pirouettes or figure-eights; the towering buildings reflecting each other; the children running about with rosy, excited faces; the golden flags waving and planted trees decorated with lights; and above it all, the Christmas tree, a goliath of multi-colored lights topped by a star. It was all too much, too much commotion and hubbub, too much noise.

  K.C. came back with a downcast look to a stomping Chay trying to stay warm.

  “What? What now?” he asked.

  She tutted and sighed. “Thirty-two dollars to get in, twelve dollars to rent skates.”

  Chay stared at her in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding. How much money are they making? Maybe I should open a skating rink on my frozen tanks back home. Geesh. I’m not going to—”

  “No, no. Let’s go…somewhere we can get a hot chocolate and warm up.”

  “Yeah, and I know just the place.” Chay grabbed her hand and pushed back through the crowd.

  “Home?”

  “Home.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? It isn’t your fault.”

  “I thought…I thought it was going to be such fun, the windows and the skating, and the—”

  “Crowds?”

  “Well. I didn’t know it was going to be this bad.” She peered over her shoulder at the golden statue that graced Rockefeller Center, and the tree. “Oh, gosh, Chay! You hardly saw the tree!”

  “I saw it. Great. Big, and lots of lights and things. Maybe nice at night, though.”

  K.C. stopped in her tracks and swiveled to him. “Nice at night? Nice at night? That’s all you have to say about the Rockefeller Center Tree—the most famous Christmas tree, like, in all the world?”

  He stared at her and grimaced, shoving his hands in his pockets. “K.C., it was lovely. I see pine trees outside my window all year. I like them in their natural state, like in Wyoming. Up mountains, by lakes, with elk or moose underneath. I never did like the idea of putting silly little baubles on them, trinkets, or angels at the top. What’s the point?”

  “What’s the point? Chay, it’s Christmas. It’s a Christmas tradition. Didn’t you ever have a Christmas tree in your home?”

  “Yeah, I did. I decorated it with home-made things I could make when I was little. My mother showed me how to make cut-out paper chains, and popcorn garlands and stuff. All that glitz, I think, it’s sort of stupid, isn’t it? Spending money on crap, buying things. Taking something from nature and dressing it up like that?”

  “It’s Christmas!”

  “Yeah. I got that. It’s Christmas.” Someone pushed him from behind and anger flared across his face like wildfire down a hillside. “I thought we were going home for hot chocolate.”

  K.C. stared at him as if she were seeing a different person, a person she didn’t know. “Where’s your Christmas spirit,” she asked in a voice so hurt, he thought she was pleading.

  “Christmas spirit is maybe different to different people. I find the crowds—”

  “All right, I understand!” She jerked her arm free and walked on at a quicker pace. “Christmas spirit is different to different people.”

  Chay stopped for a moment, lost in the crowd, keeping an eye on her retreating back. “Yes,” he said to himself. “Christmas is certainly different to different people. And we were different people in Wyoming.”

  * * *

  They opened the door to discover Daphne hadn’t left for the weekend; she was with two friends, one sprawled on the sofa, her feet on the lap of another who was stuffed into the corner, while Daphne lay on the floor with a joint in her hand. K.C. stopped short at the door so Chay almost ran into her. A sickening, sweet smell, with a top note of skunk, reached her nostrils as the family upstairs thumped around, pulling what sounded like a steel chair across their tiled floor. Chay put a hand to his head, oozing disbelief, aggravation.

  “Daphne.” K.C. entered in slow steps and began to remove her outer garments. “We thought you’d gone home for the weekend.”

  “Hoped I’d gone home for the weekend, you mean. No, no, I’m here.” She smirked, waving the joint toward her two friends on the sofa. “You know Katie and Louise, don’t you?”

  K.C. nodded with a soft “hello.”

  “And that’s Chay,” Daphne continued, “K.C.’s boyfriend, our roomie.” She lay back on one elbow, took a toke, holding it before blowing it out in one long dragon-like puff. “Want some, Chay sweetie?”

  Chay looked through the haze of blue smoke that filled the room, squinting at Daphne as if he were giving her the evil eye, deciphering exactly who or what she was. Still wearing his coat, he stomped through to the master bedroom and slammed the door.

  “We agreed,” K.C. began in a measured voice, low but determined to make her point. “We agreed, Daphne,” she said somewhat louder, “there would be no weed in the apartment. You said—”

  “I don’t give a shit what I said, K.C.” She struggled to sit up a
nd jabbed the remains of the joint out in a nearby dish. “You said, you said Chay would be quiet, and since we didn’t have to share a bathroom here it wouldn’t matter, he wouldn’t be in my way. Well, guess what? He is in my way. He wakes me every single night he comes in late when I happen to have early class the next day; he leaves a mess in the kitchen which, guess what, we have one of, and he is rude to me whenever we are left alone.”

  “That is just not true and you know it! Chay’s amazingly considerate and responsible, and he always cleans up in the kitchen. For heaven’s sake, he cleans up after me. He goes to ridiculous lengths not to make any noise when he comes in at night; I don’t even know he’s come in until he appears in the bedroom, how is it possible he could be waking you?”

  “Well, he does.” Daphne looked to her two friends for support but they seemed to be somnolent and uninterested in the ongoing argument. “I honestly think, K.C., really, for us to remain friends, you and Chay ought to move out, find somewhere else. You offered to do that a while ago and I now think it’s best. I want to live the way I want to live, and you can live the way you guys want to live. Since my name is on the lease, I’m afraid it’s you two who’ll have to go.”