Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela (33 page)

in outing….‖

―What? Could you speak up?‖

―This …onnection sucks… see if they have a payphone.‖

Why didn’t the idiot just call from his desk phone?
Logan got up

and started pacing with the phone to his ear. ―Hang up and call from—‖

Suddenly he heard Nick yelling the question about a payphone.

Something wasn‘t adding up. ―Where in the hell are you?‖

―Uhh, …orget the name… this place. Hang on… ask the

bartend….‖

Logan‘s anger melted quickly into concern, and he stopped dead

in his tracks.
Ask the bartender? Is that what he said? What the…?

―You‘re in a bar?‖

―Yeah.‖

―What the fuck are you doing in a bar in the middle of the day?‖

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―…ood question.‖ Static drowned out the tail-end of Nick‘s

mirthless laugh, and the unease Logan had been feeling turned to full-

blown panic.

Fuck, she wouldn’t’ve—couldn’t’ve—fired him?
―Trudy didn‘t….

Nick, you didn‘t lose your job, did you?‖

A fresh burst of static came over the line, and all Logan heard

was, ―…relieved of duty.‖

Son of a bitch! Wasn’t that just fancy talk for fired?
In a

wheedling tone of voice, Logan cajoled, ―Hey, listen to me. You stay

right there, and I‘ll swing by and pick you up as soon as I get off,

okay?‖ A frisson of alarm shot up his spine when a flash of movement

nicked the corner of his eye. Logan whirled around to find Mack

smoking a cigarette and regarding him with intense curiosity.

He turned his attention back to his phone to hear, ―Don‘t bother…

gonna get go… soon. I really am sorr… ake care, Logan.‖ There was

nothing more as the line went dead.

His heart sinking like a stone in the sea, Logan flipped his phone

closed before looking over at his supervisor. With a sheepish shrug, he

said, ―Buddy of mine. He‘s havin‘ a rough day.‖

Mack nodded sympathetically. ―Sure sounded that way.‖ He

flicked his cigarette butt on the ground and stubbed it out while

offering, ―Look, if you wanta take off now and get him out of that bar,

go ‘head. Might save his wife some grief.‖

―He‘s not—‖ Logan clamped down on that admission and tried to

seem unconcerned as he explained, ―He‘ll be all right. No use anyway,

he wouldn‘t tell me where he is.‖

Mack shrugged and ambled back into the garden center. With no

other choice, Logan followed him in and finished his shift, barely

aware of what he was doing as he unboxed some of those shiny

Christmas ornaments. His self-righteous anger was a distant

recollection now, so consumed was he by shame and regret.

The memory of telling Nick that he had nothing to lose stabbed at

Logan‘s conscience.
What a stupid thing to say. Nick had plenty to lose,

and it looks like he did. Couldn’t Trudy’ve given him a break? He told

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her the truth. Wonder if he’s sorry, now? ’Course he is—isn’t that what

he said on the call?

Logan suddenly wished he could tell Nick not to be sorry, to be

proud that he did the right thing and screw what anyone else thought.

Too bad I pretty much came right out and told him to lie; can’t believe

I did that. What was I thinkin’? I was just as bad as Daisy.
For the first

time ever, Logan saw the situation with his sister from the other side,

and he didn‘t like the view at all.
No wonder Nick don’t wanna see me

right now.
The idea of his friend sad and alone in an unfamiliar bar

disturbed Logan on several levels, not least of which was the thought of

some strange guy jumping at the chance to comfort Nick.

At three p.m., Logan finished up work and practically ran out to

his truck. In the privacy of the cab, he punched in Nick‘s cell phone

number. The voice mail came on immediately every time he called,

which meant the damn thing was probably turned off.
Maybe he’s home

by now.
Logan immediately tried that number but got only the

answering machine. ―Hey, Nick? It‘s me. If you‘re there, pick up.‖ No

response.

The next number he dialed was the last person he wanted to talk

to but the only one who could tell him what had happened with Nick.

Unfortunately, when he asked to speak with Dr. Trudy Gerard, he was

informed that she was with a client. ―How much longer do you think

she‘ll be?‖

―I‘m not really sure. I can take a message for her, if you‘d like.‖

Logan stifled the urge to curse at the receptionist and instead left

a message for Trudy to call him on his cell phone as soon as she got a

chance. He sat lost in thought for a moment and then, with no better

idea, headed for Nick‘s house.
Just because he ain’t pickin’ up the

phone don’t mean he’s not there.

AFTER Nick ended the call to Logan, he stared down into his half-full

mug, trying to decide what to do next. A fourth beer on an empty

stomach would make driving a dicey proposition, and Nick felt no

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desire to spend the rest of the day in this dark and dank bar. He wasn‘t

even quite sure how he‘d ended up there.

He‘d left ACC and moped around the house for a few hours until

the walls had started closing in on him, but for once going for a run or

shooting hoops held no appeal. Looking for a source of cheer, Nick had

headed to the hospital to see his mom, thinking a visit would surely

buoy both of them, especially as this was her last week in Allegheny

Suburban. Three days earlier, Nick had made arrangements with the

social worker to transfer Agnes to the Heartland Healthcare Center.

Sadly, the visit ended up only adding to Nick‘s gloom. His mom

looked more frail then he‘d ever seen her before and seemed more

incoherent than not. After twenty minutes, Agnes had drifted back to

sleep, prompting Nick to go out in search of sustenance. While driving

around aimlessly, he‘d made an impulsive stop at Slim and Ernie‘s

Tavern, an establishment where serving food didn‘t appear to be a

priority or, judging by his time there, even a possibility.

A growling stomach reminded Nick of his original mission. He

slowly finished his beer, weighing the options. The idea of heading

home to an empty house tempted him not in the least. In all honesty,

Nick knew where he wanted to go.
Been feelin’ the pull all morning,

just can’t admit it. Why? It ain’t like it’s gonna make anything worse.

Mind made up at last, Nick paid the tab and headed outside.

Twenty-five minutes later, he walked through the door of The

Liberty Grill, finding it unusually quiet. Of course, he was there smack-

dab between the lunch rush and the early bird special crowd. The

afternoon hostess, Sharon, greeted him like the old friend he was.

―Nick! What‘re you doin‘ here?‖

―Looking for somethin‘ to eat.‖ He swept the entire restaurant

with a cautious glance. ―Is Larry around?‖

―He‘s busy in the kitchen, hon. You want I should get him?‖

―Nah, don‘t bother him,‖ answered Nick, unsure whether he was

disappointed or relieved. ―I‘ll just take a seat at the counter.‖ He

hopped on a stool at the far end of the restaurant and waved the menu

away. ―I know what I want. Medium-rare cheeseburger, loaded, and a

double-thick chocolate shake.‖

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The waitress, a new girl Nick didn‘t know, nodded as she wrote

his order up, asking, ―Fries or potato salad on the side?‖

―I wanna substitute macaroni and cheese.‖

With raised eyebrows, she confirmed, ―You want a side order of

macaroni and cheese with your
cheeseburger
?‖

―Actually, I want a full order,‖ Nick corrected, smiling in spite of

himself at her disbelief.

―Okay.‖ She winked and smiled back. ―You got it.‖

Nick snatched a discarded newspaper from a nearby booth and

paged wearily through it as he waited. A little while later, the clunk of a

heavy stoneware plate hitting the counter signaled that his food had

arrived. Nick lowered the
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
to find Larry

shaking his head while sliding a tall, frosty glass next to the plate.

―Sharon told you I was here?‖ he asked, reaching for his half-

pound burger.

―She didn‘t have to. You think I don‘t know that order? I heard it

being fired in the kitchen and figured either you were here lookin‘ for

comfort food or some other customer was trying to commit suicide by

calorie.‖

―Yeah, well, I need some comfort.‖ After taking a huge bite, Nick

muttered, ―My order wasn‘t the only thing that got fired today.‖

Larry drew a mug of coffee for himself and tsked at his young

friend. ―Is that what you call taking a voluntary leave of absence?‖

―Ha,
voluntary
,‖ Nick scoffed, slowing his assault on the burger

to tackle some macaroni and cheese. ―I guess you talked to your wife

today?‖

―No, I
listened
to her last night after we dropped Dave off—for

over an hour.‖

―Sorry ‘bout that.‖ Nick sighed at his plate before looking back

up at Larry. ―She knew as soon as she saw us?‖

―Didn‘t even take that long,‖ Larry harrumphed. ―When Dave

saw the car and started talkin‘ about you and Logan workin‘ so hard on

it, Trudy got real quiet. I looked over and could see the wheels turnin‘

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in her head. I‘ll admit, I didn‘t get what was up ‘til she started ranting

about it later.‖

―She was really pissed off, huh?‖ Nick picked up his glass and

tried to drown some guilt in chocolate shake.

―Son,‖ Larry drawled, the deep rumble soothing to Nick‘s ears. ―I

think she was more hurt than pissed.‖

―She thinks I went behind her back?‖

―There‘s that. But she seems to think it‘s a bad idea all around—

bad for both you and Logan. As she put it, ‗Nick could have any gay

man in the city, but he has to fuck around with one of my abusers.‘‖

Nick devoured his burger with renewed vigor, objecting, ―It

wasn‘t like that. We aren‘t just ‗fucking around‘.‖ He swallowed and

added indignantly, ―And Logan is more than just another abuser.‖

―Well, I‘ll be damned.‖ A deep chuckle erupted from Larry.

―What is it you‘re tryin‘ to say?‖

―What?‖ Nick asked. His annoyance spiked when Larry just

laughed harder.

―Did you just hear yourself? You practically came right out and

told me you were in love.‖

―I did not.‖ His heart sped up as he examined his admission. To

cover his confusion, he wolfed down more food, but his mind wasn‘t

distracted.
Shit, what did I mean? Am I… in love?
Around a mouthful

of macaroni and cheese, Nick mumbled, ―I don‘t know… maybe.‖

He looked up at Larry, expecting more amusement but instead

finding dark brown eyes filled with gentle compassion. ―I thought Nick

Zales didn‘t believe in love.‖

Nick wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, then squared his

shoulders and looked Larry in the eye. ―Yeah, well… could be that love

believes in Nick Zales.‖

Larry nodded, saying with some satisfaction, ―It‘s about time.‖

―Are you crazy?‖ Nick threw his napkin down on his nearly

empty plate. ―Do you know how fucked up this whole thing is?‖

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―As fucked up as some fry cook fallin‘ in love with a fancy PhD

from Bethel Park?‖

―That hardly compares, Larry. And you‘re not just ‗some fry

cook‘.‖

―And you told me Logan wasn‘t just another abuser.‖

―He‘s not.‖ Nick sighed and ran a hand across his forehead. ―Still.

There are too many complications and repercussions here—‖

―This is why you and Trudy drive each other crazy sometimes,‖

said Larry as he leaned a shoulder against the coffee urn. ―You two are

so much alike.‖ Nick shot Larry a quizzical look, prompting him to

explain, ―You both analyze everything to death.‖

‖Not lately,‖ Nick laughed.

―You are now—‖

―Larry,‖ Nick interrupted, leaning forward and lowering his tone

to explain. ―Me falling in love with Logan could mean… mean….‖

―So deal with your daddy issues and then—‖

―How did you know…?‖

―Do you think I‘ve lived with that woman for over twenty years

without pickin‘ up a thing or two about her business? Like I was sayin‘,

deal with what you have to and then, if the feelings are still there, find a

way to make it work.‖ He faced Nick, hands braced against the counter.

―Love is worth fightin‘ for.‖ Larry‘s smile flashed white against his

dark skin as he added, ―Looks like I‘m not the only one who thinks so.‖