Empty Nests (9 page)

“I know, James.” Coach Frasier gave him a careful pat on the shoulder this time. “We’re all keeping an eye on him. I’ve put more than a few years of work into him myself. I want to be able to put his baseball card up on the wall of my office and say ‘I coached that boy.’”

“I just want to get him to eighteen alive and with minimal damage. Then I’ll start worrying about his Major League career.”

G
ABE
LOOKED
at his phone, then at his papers, then back at his phone. He checked the time, picked up the receiver, then put it back down.

Tamyra brought in his morning coffee. He didn’t grab for it; he was too busy staring at the phone and internally growling at it. He’d spent all of Sunday practically sitting on his hands to keep from calling James. That wasn’t the way his dates went. If a guy was worth calling back, he’d get to it within a few days, if the guy didn’t call first. He did not spend his weekend obsessing. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work.

Tamyra put her hands on her hips. “Okay, what is it?”

“How long do I have to wait to call someone about another date without sounding desperate and needy?”

“You are desperate and needy.”

“Thank you. Answer the question.”

There was a quick knock, and the door opened. Frank and Nate let themselves in, wearing matching grins. Nate lifted his phone to read off it. “According to today’s weekend gossip roundup, Most Eligible Bachelor, Gabriel Juarez, CFO of TechPrim Industries, came out over the weekend by arriving at his own charity event on the arm of a UCB academic named James Mazon.”

Gabe grabbed the Tux stress penguin on his desk. It had taken him through acquisitions, million-dollar deals, and relationship meltdowns. He squeezed, hard. “First, his name is James Maron, he’s with UCB Tech Support, and what the fuck do they mean, I came out? I came out when I was sixteen and my mom found my Playgirls. My cousins kicked my ass, and my mother still says the rosary twice a day for my soul. I haven’t been
in
in years!”

Nate raised his arms. “Don’t kill the messenger. At least this way you’ll stop getting resumes with photo accompaniments.”

Gabe squeezed Tux a few more times.

“Aside from it being your big coming out, how’d your date go?” Nate asked.

“He’s trying to figure out how long he needs to wait to call him so he doesn’t sound desperate and needy,” Tamyra supplied.

“Dude, just call him” was Frank’s instant advice.

“I don’t want to scare him off.”

Frank and Nate shared a surprised look, then perched on either end of his desk like lopsided bookends. Gabe glared at them, and they hopped off the desk. It was an antique Art Nouveau piece that clashed with every other piece of furniture in the organization. There were standing death threats toward the first person dumb enough to break it, his partners included. Frank and Nate slouched into the guest chairs instead.

“Is this serious?” Frank asked. “I mean, do you want it to be serious?”

Gabe knew a straight-out yes would bring too much baggage, but he could not answer with a no. “Would I be stressing over a phone call if I wasn’t thinking about this seriously?”

Nate shrugged. “I don’t know. There was that phase when you had a habit of falling in and out of love every other week.”

“A phase that finished when I was twenty-four, and you know it.”

“Just pick up the phone and call him” was Frank’s advice.

Gabe looked at Nate. As much as he usually trusted Frank’s opinion, the fact was he was on Wife Number Three. Nate, on the other hand, was married to the same girl who had force-fed him a worm in the first grade.

“Before we let you get back into a cycle of being lovesick, for the sake of the company, tell us about this guy. What’s he like?”

Gabe mentally pulled up short. He’d been expecting Nate to tell him to pick up the phone as well. “He’s…. He’s nice?”

“I’m a nice guy, and you’re not mooning over me.”

“Damn straight I’m not. Um….” Gabe tried to think of how to describe James in a way that didn’t make him sound dishwater dull. “He’s… intelligent, but not in an annoying way, like you two. He’s
—I want to say innocent, but that’s really not the right word. I’m not sure there is a right word. He’s got integrity, and he’s really cute when he blushes. He still blushes.”

“Okay.” Nate drew out the word. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you describe anyone as having integrity, ever.”

“He’s a single parent. Guess how old the kid is.”

“Eight, nine?” Frank guessed.

“Seventeen. About to go to Stanford on scholarship. He had a son at fifteen. Fought to keep him. I don’t think he’s done much of anything for himself in, oh, about eighteen years and… I don’t know. This job has probably made me cynical as all fuck, but I don’t think he’s working an angle on anyone. I mean, he actually seems like a good person and….”

“Call him.” Frank, Nate, and Tamyra said in unison.

“So I should call him, then?”

Tamyra reached over, lifted the phone out of its charger, and placed it in his hand. “You’re already sweet on this guy. Just call him.”

J
AMES
LOOKED
at the stack of envelopes sitting on the table, the spiral-bound notebook, and his checkbook. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the task at hand. It wasn’t easy. He’d just been asked on a second date for the first time in his life and had said yes. Dylan would be so proud. He took another breath and opened the first bill. He was sure most people didn’t use spiral-bound notebooks to keep track of their budgets anymore, but his first budget had been written in the back of his English notebook, and it was what he was used to.

Savings, power, water, phone, cell phone, and rent all happened neatly and almost without thought. His last promotion, such as it was, from Grade 4 technician to Team Leader had made those things, if not comfortable, then at least less panic-inducing than they’d once been.

James picked up the bill he had saved for last. It bore the name of Dylan’s physical therapist. This was where the math came in. The number was larger than was comfortable, but with luck, wouldn’t break the bank as long as he shifted things around.

He’d just decided he could put off getting the Lemon Drop realigned for another month when Dylan came into the kitchen and looked over his shoulder.

“Dad, just take it out of savings.”

“No!” It was the millionth time they’d had this argument. “Savings are called savings for a reason.”

“And a
full
scholarship is called a full scholarship for a reason.”

“And what happens if your ankle goes out again for good? That scholarship goes right out with it, and those savings are going to come in handy.”

“Our combined net worth will not cover a semester at Stanford.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not going to college.”

“It’s one therapy bill.”

“And if we can justify dipping in for one bill, then we can justify it for another and another, and the next thing you know, you’re picking up a two-year diploma at a community college and begging for a minimum-wage entry-level job somewhere.”

Dylan put his hands up. “Okay. But the Lemon Drop really does need a realignment.”

“So did your ankle.”

G
ABE
RUBBED
his eyes after he hung up on the last of his international lawyers stationed in Prague. The day had started far too early for a Friday, but he wanted to clear up anything that might possibly interrupt his Saturday night. He noticed a light blinking on his phone.

“Tamyra, who’s on hold on three, and can I tell them to call back later?”

Tamyra came in and put a glass of water and two pills on his desk. “It’s Roy Edsworth.”

“Who?”

“Your cousin Felipe’s lawyer.”

Those were four words Gabe dreaded hearing. He looked at the pills and recognized the prescription migraine medication he hadn’t used in a year. Gabe took the pills, drank the water, and picked up the phone.

“Mr. Edsworth. What can I do for you?”

“I’m calling with some good news. Felipe’s parole hearing has been moved up to next Thursday.”

“That’s good news?”

“Well… yes. It means he has a chance of getting out next week.”

“He beat a man into a coma over eight ounces of coke, and the only reason his parole hearing is next week instead of in a decade is because I hired you. And the only reason I hired you is because my mother begged me because ‘Felipe is a good boy, he’s just misunderstood.’ So I’ll ask you again, how is this good news?”

There was some uncomfortable throat clearing. “Um…. Your cousin has a better chance of getting parole if his family is present.”

“Then call his family.”

“He is your cousin.”

“He broke my jaw when I was sixteen.”

“I do believe he is a changed man. From what I understand, he’s found Jesus.”

Gabe pressed his thumb to the corner of his eye as a spike of pain shot from there to the back of his skull and down his neck. “Of course he’s found Jesus!” Gabe shouted. “We’re fucking Catholics! I was at his fucking confirmation.” There was silence at the other end of the line. “Look, I’m sure my mother and Auntie Loreen and all my other cousins will show up and sob and wring their hands. But frankly, even if I did give a tiny rat’s ass about my cousin, which I don’t, next Thursday I’m going to be in Prague, attempting to make a deal that might actually lead to some high-tech manufacturing jobs here in America. American jobs are good things, aren’t they?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I won’t take any more of your time, Mr. Juarez.”

“Thank you.” Gabe hung up before another word could be said. Tamyra came back in with another cup of water.

“I just cleared a half hour in your schedule. I also blew off the
Advocate
again, but PR wants you to do an interview.”

“No.”

“That’s what I told them. Lie down on the couch while those drugs kick in.”

Gabe still had his thumb in the corner of his eye. “Tam, how long have you been my PA?”

“Damn near a decade.”

He cracked open his eyes and looked up at her. “You do know if I was a woman, I’d marry you?”

“What the hell makes you think I’d even have you? You’d probably have a flat chest and no ass.”

Gabe managed a grin. “Put ‘Buy Tamyra something really nice’ on my to-do list.”

“I’ll put it right at the top.”

T
HE
LATE
-
SEASON
rain was coming down in fast, heavy drops, creating a dull hum that filled the inside of Gabe’s car. It was the kind of rain that was rare in California any time of year, though always desperately needed. Gabe checked his teeth in the rearview mirror, then closed his eyes for a moment, trying to push away thoughts of work.

It was still early in the evening, and he and James had made plans to go out. Nothing fancy this time, no concerts or country clubs, just a nice quiet dinner. He had been hoping to beat the weather so they weren’t out and about in the wet. He finally took a deep breath and dashed through the rain to the security gate. The wind managed to whip its way under his umbrella and land a particularly large drop on the back of his neck, right where it could roll down under his shirt. He hissed and punched in the code James had given to him, since the intercom at the gate wasn’t working.

Once inside he found the elevator also out of order. As he climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, he noted the building didn’t look that bad. The industrial carpet in the halls was threadbare, but it didn’t look as if anyone had died on it. There was a bit of peeling paint but no graffiti. It had the feeling of a place for people who were reaching for something better but couldn’t quite manage it.

He knocked on a door that looked like it could be broken down with no more effort than a firm kick.

James opened it, a smile on his face. “Hey there, come on in.”

Gabe gave James a peck on the cheek before stepping into the small apartment. He took it all in with a glance. It was spartan and lived-in, but also tidy with warmth to it. A set of shelves against one wall, made of bricks and boards, was filled with baseball trophies. Various school awards were taped to the wall around it. There were family photos, plenty of books that all looked third- or fourth-hand, a sofa draped with a knitted blanket about the same color as the Lemon Drop Wonder, and a TV that looked like it still needed rabbit ears.

James took Gabe’s umbrella and leaned it by the door. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it. I thought I saw a rowboat going down the street earlier.”

“It’s a little wild out there. I saw three accidents on my way up.”

“Second it rains everyone forgets how to drive. I told Dylan if he wanted to take the car tonight, he had to stay off the freeways.”

Gabe didn’t comment that James’s car didn’t look like it should be on the road in any weather. “I was thinking, I know this little Italian place. Really quiet, laid-back, great tiramisu, if you’re still up for going out?”

James grinned despite the rain crashing against the windows. “Absolutely. Let me get my coat.”

As they sprinted to the car, Gabe did his best to keep his umbrella between James and the driving rain, since James’s coat was little more than a windbreaker. Once in the car, James ran his hand through his damp hair, causing it to shimmer in the streetlight and stick out at weird angles. The urge to skip dinner and jump right to making out in the car was a strong one. He wanted to get his fingers into James’s hair and mess it up even more.

“Where’s this place?”

Gabe dragged his focus back to the date part of the date. “Berkeley, right off Bancroft.”

T
HE
WINDOWS
of La Barillette were lit with a warm glow, and the heavy smell of tomatoes and spices permeated the wet night. There were a few other couples scattered among the fake Roman vases and Italian travel posters, but mostly it seemed quiet as they were shown to their table.