St. Nacho's 4: The Book of Daniel (6 page)

Cam stood in the foreground, grimy and wet with sweat as he pulled off his helmet. The photographer caught him looking back at the house with naked regret.

Seeing that picture brought home to me how painful Cam’s job could be and what an extraordinary thing it was that any firefighter could roll out on each new call with fresh determination in his heart. It was no wonder they had all come home silent and exhausted.

I’d interrupted Cam in his private grief and seen the man he hid from the world. And I’d discovered I had much more than a passing attraction to him. I wanted to take away his pain, even if it meant bearing it myself.

Since I had nothing better to do that early, the beach beckoned. I changed and took off for a walk to the pier. There was no one out yet, just some seabirds and a light mist of fog. It was time to consider my own dilemma.

My father, Elton Livingston was trying to get in touch with me.

This was no surprise to me, but it would shock the hell out of Jake. I’d never told him our father had written to me; I’d never found a good way to work it into a conversation. Now I worried how he would feel if he knew.

Jake probably only remembered our father as an abusive man who came home disappointed every night—- only to get drunk and take it out on us. My mom stood up to him on our behalf and got the worst of it, but I took more than one beating to protect Jake, who was so much younger.

It all ended the day I was finally big enough to put a stop to it. That physical confrontation left my father lying on the ground with a broken nose, looking up at me with fear in his eyes. The image of his frightened face is burned into my memory as the single most conflicted moment of my life.

I hadn’t wanted to win. But I couldn’t bear to lose anymore either.

The next day our mother’s father took us to the beach, and when we came home, all the mementos, the photographs, the letters and postcards—every last trace of my father—had disappeared. For the rest of my childhood it was as if he’d never existed at all. For my part, I’d always thought good riddance.

By the time I heard from him again, I was in graduate school and Jake was in Israel with our grandfather—our
zeyde
—doing his mandatory service in the Israeli army.

Our father wrote me to tell me he had a new family, and all I could think was…good luck with that.

Fuck my father anyway.

He
should have been the one to tell Jake about them, because I could never do it. And now Jake would think I’d kept it from him for some private, selfish reason of my own. Maybe I had. Maybe I didn’t want to see him hurt again.

Our father had burdened me over the ensuing years with apologies, requests for financial assistance, and news I’d rather not have gotten. Photos I wish I’d never seen of a boy who looked like me and a girl who looked a little bit like Jake around the eyes.

I had siblings I didn’t know. Siblings I didn’t
want
to know. And they were trying to find me to tell me that a man I had hated for most of my life was sick.

I didn’t want to know that either.

It was while I was on the boardwalk that I happened to spot Jake and JT along the seam of the sea—where the rush and foam of water met a line of damp brown sand. They’d taken off their shoes and carried them while they walked with their arms wrapped around each other. Jake wore his white chef’s coat and apron as though he’d left the shop midbake, and JT wore his uniform under a navy blue windbreaker with SIFD on the back.

If Cam’s reaction to the fire and its aftermath hadn’t warned me that a serious tragedy had occurred, all it would have taken was seeing JT’s body language and the careful way my brother watched his face and listened to what he had to say.

At some point, JT crumpled, and Jake caught him and held him. I turned around and headed back the way I’d come, leaving my brother and his lover to have one of the most emotionally intimate moments I’d ever seen, alone.

Instead of going home, I headed straight for the firehouse, to Cam.

Chapter Six

I found Cam on the lawn outside the station, walking his cat.

I could tell that whatever had passed between us the night before embarrassed him. He wouldn’t look directly into my eyes, for one thing. But maybe a grown man walking a cat in a little sparkly collar on an equally shiny leash had more things to worry about than a perfectly justified emotional outburst.

“That, sir, is a cat.” I pointed out the obvious.

“What’s your point?” A light flood of pink colored his cheeks beneath a day or two of golden stubble. “It’s a special day for her. Spot is the firehouse mascot and an elementary school is coming in to visit and take pictures with us.”

She certainly was spotted. She looked like a tiny leopard. Cam gathered her up and held her between the palms of his enormous hands. Her triangular face reminded me in some absurd way of Muse.

“But she’s a cat.”

“Spot is not just
any
cat. She’s an ocicat. They’re an especially outgoing, friendly breed, and they like interacting with humans. They’re highly intelligent and”—at this, he whispered so she wouldn’t hear him—“doglike in temperament. I rescued her when she was a kitten. And…you know. She likes dog stuff. I don’t want to treat her like an ordinary cat or anything when she clearly wants to be a—”

“So she thinks she’s a dog?”

Even though he didn’t look up at me, I saw his lips twitch at that. He covered her ears. “Shh. She’ll hear you.”

Since I’d seen her on a leash prancing proudly along in perfect heel, no. I did not want ruin things for her. Delusional cats were outside my area of expertise.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

He brought Spot to his face and rubbed his chin along her fur. “The fourth boy, the one JT transported, died early this morning.”

“
Shit
.” I put my hand on his arm, but he pulled it back. Today he didn’t want my comfort.

“It’s the job.” He turned as though he was planning to walk back into the station, but I called out to him.

“JT’s taking it hard, isn’t he?’

Cam turned back. “We’re all taking it hard.”

“Is… Do you suppose there’s something I can do for the families? Is there a fund, or—”

Cam’s irritation plainly showed on his face. “JT is right about you. You can’t help yourself. You just have to respond to everything by offering cash, like money is a panacea—”

“Wait just a damn minute.” I stepped toward him. I had to look up a good six inches—which seemed crazy because I’m not a small man at all—but I was willing to go toe-to-toe over this. “I don’t know these people. I’ve lived here like…two minutes. But I do know how crippling funeral expenses can be, and I also know that grief has got to be ten times worse when you’re scrambling for money to give your child a decent burial. I know it means something when you realize your neighbors care, even if the only way they can show it is with their
filthy money
.”

Cam unhooked Spot’s leash and said “
Truck
,” and damned if that little slip of skin and bones and spotted fur didn’t rush to the fire engine and climb till she was perched on the top, looking down at us like a vulture.

“I’m sorry I said that, Daniel.”

There it was again, that thrilling little rasp, that purr when he said my name. It went straight to my cock. Did he fucking do that on purpose?

I tried to tamp down my attraction to him, at least enough so it didn’t show on my face while I vented my irritation. “I worked two jobs all through college and graduate school and even then, I had a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of student loans to pay off after I got my MBA.” Why did I need to defend myself? It was probably about Bree—about how it hadn’t taken me long to realize money was
all
she thought I had to offer. Maybe that’s why it stung. For the first time in a long time, I’d actually tried to offer friendship, compassion, companionship, and Cam had rejected it. “Money is everything when you don’t have any. There are plenty of people who believe I have nothing more to offer than that.”

His head shot up, and his gaze was fierce.
Angry
. “I’m not one of them. And maybe other people will take a hint when you stop leading with your wallet.”

He took off, and I didn’t pursue him, because…maybe he was right.

* * *

At three that afternoon I got caught daydreaming by Alvin Benchley, one of my business partners at Livingston Properties, my second-in-command. He tapped on the table. “Focus, Dan. I think you’ve only listened to about half of what I’ve said so far.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t drive all the way down here so you could fall asleep while I’m trying to talk to you.”

“I apologize, go on?”

“BreeAnna’s lawyer is giving us an indication the settlement is less than they would like. I wouldn’t worry about that, because they’re motivated to get this over with. So that’s good news anyway. On a slightly less positive note, it looks like the homeowners association at Orchard Homes is planning a class action suit against the builders, and they’re naming Livingston Properties in the lawsuit.”

I frowned. “I told the board that going with the cheapest bid on that recreational facility would cost them a boatload in the long run. They went against my advice. What do they want me to do about it now?”

“I don’t think they have a prayer of prevailing against LP, but we’re going to have to defend it, and it’s going to cost money.”

“Everything does,” I said. The light from the afternoon sun slanted in from the blinds. It made long strips of light and dark on the floor that reminded me of fingers, reaching into the room.

“The purchase of the Shelby office building in San Jose is complete. Only four of the tenants have exhibited any concerns about the change in ownership at all, and since I told them you planned on maintaining the status quo, they’re satisfied.”

“Good.” I wondered if I could get a cat like Spot.

“
Dan
.” Al was clearly irritated with me. “I hope I’m not boring you.”

I tried to snap out of it. “I’m sorry. I don’t suppose you heard about what happened here yesterday.”

“The fire that killed those kids? Yeah. Helluva thing. Devastating.”

“I didn’t sleep very well last night. My brother’s EMT boyfriend transported one of the kids, the only one to make it, but he died this morning and—”

Al held up his hand. “Say no more. I get it. If you want to set up a meeting another time…”

“You drove all the way down here, and I’m trying not to waste your time. What else?”

“I think I went over everything. Orchard Homes is the only big problem I see on the horizon, but even that is more of a minor annoyance. You covered your ass perfectly there. So… You have anything else?”

“Not currently.”

“Have you thought about looking for opportunities around here?”

“Besides the loans I made to Jake and Mary Catherine for Bêtise? No.”

“There’s some spectacular undeveloped coastal land around here. I’ve done some research. I’d like you to consider a resort property.”

“I…” I frowned. I had given that some thought. “I’m not sure I’m interested in staying in St. Nacho’s. When I’ve recovered as much as I can, I plan to look for a place in San Francisco.”

“What does that have to do with anything? You bought an office building in San Jose, and you don’t live there.”

“I guess I wasn’t ready to think about it.” Which was odd, since I always thought about things like that: the next project, the next big deal. “I barely got here before we had the accident. Yeah. Maybe. Look into things here then. I’m thinking I’d like to do something here without changing the place too much.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“St. Nacho’s is a small town. It doesn’t aspire to draw much in the way of a tourist market.”

“That doesn’t mean it couldn’t. A first-rate hotel with a spa, something that would pull some upscale vacation trade. Fine dining.”

I thought about Nacho’s Bar and how people came from up and down the coast for both its evenings as a gay hangout and its family Sunday brunches. “I don’t think it would be easy to change the nature of the place.”

His eyebrows rose. “It’s going to happen. St. Nacho’s is surrounded by as yet unmolested coastline. Bored tourists are always looking for new places to go. People are willing to travel farther than ever to get to jobs. Politics change in the state capital all the time, and in a down economy, suddenly it’s okay to drill offshore or plunder the wetlands. I say despite the recent elections, it might still prove fruitful to look into something here.”

Absurdly, my skin felt tight when he said that. “I don’t know.”

“I’ve been looking into something new.” Al seemed to hesitate.

“What?”

“Gaming.” He dropped that word between us and waited.

“What? Like…gambling?” I’d always balked at the idea of gambling. “Most gambling is illegal in California and—”

“I’m not proposing a casino. Gambling here is the purview of the local Native American tribe and demand won’t support the competition. That’s their schtick. I’m talking about a resort with tournament video gaming and card rooms. Maybe something with its own cachet, like the World Series of Poker Tournament. We create new high-stakes tournament play. Given the surging popularity of Texas Hold’em on television, I’ve been thinking a mid-California mecca for the gamer, the geek, and the twentysomething demographic that plays hard, drinks hard, and spends hard.”

“A resort with card rooms?” I’d never been much interested in video games. I couldn’t even remember playing any. “I think the good citizens of St. Nacho’s would run you out on a rail.”

“Yes, card rooms. And high-tech video gaming. Sophisticated laser tag. That’s… Look, I’ve been doing some checking around since you landed here. The area just north of St. Nacho’s is unincorporated. Let’s say you take a long-term conservative approach. You buy the land and start pitching plans for a resort. It won’t be hard to find capital for the property, even in this economy. Once we do that, we put together a prospectus and start building support for the resort. Think: luxury poker destination for folks who want a reasonable drive from commercial centers all up and down the coast. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes along and develops here, because change is inevitable. You could be on the ground floor of something huge, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You can build green, pitch it as responsible land management and an increase in jobs for the denizens of St. Nacho’s and other local communities. At this point we both know the state isn’t going to stand in the way of tax revenue.”