Unforgettable Christmas Dreams: Gifts of Joy

by Rebecca York

  “Friends? Hell, I have enough friends,” Pete said. When he saw O’Reilly’s scowl of doubt, he amended it. “I have a best friend and a great family. What I’m looking for is a wife!”

  “Well, treat her like she’s the mare you’ve been waiting for for twenty years. No hasty movements. They’re warm and soft and gorgeous, but can be spooked pretty easy. Shoot! If you do this right, we’ll be more than best friends, we’ll be in-laws!” O’Reilly clasped his hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go in and see our ladies.”

  “Ah. Our ladies. That sounds so good.”

  Chapter 5: Another World, Another Life

  Manhattan

  December 21

  “Quinn? Quinn?” Charles called out, panicked at finding himself alone.

  “I’m right here, Dear,” the billionaire’s personal assistant and lover said, patting the ailing man’s hand in assurance. “I just had to take a phone call. Do you need anything? Would you like to try the soup? Zelda said she had Cookie make some up special for you.”

  “That bitch and her coke-head cook. If either one of them has touched it, I don’t want any. Just grab me one of those frozen dinners. At least I know if it came from the market in a sealed container, it’s safe.”

  “And if I’m the one preparing it,” Quinn added.

  Charles chuckled in recall, then started to cough. “Yeah, he couldn’t scoot out of here fast enough. Didn’t even stop to grab his coat. I’ll bet he about froze stiff before he got to the subway. What was his name?”

  Now it was Quinn’s turn to chuckle. “Who cares? I’ll make sure no one hurts you, my dear.” He bent and kissed Charles on the forehead, then pulled back and watched the worry and pain lines fade from his lover’s face. “Thank you for living so long,” he said tenderly.

  “Why do you do this for me? Is it because you won’t have a job when I die?” Charles asked, worry creeping back.

  “No, you know that’s not it. You’ve set me up with enough shares and cash that I’ll never have to work again. You know I do it out of love. And you know what?” he said, then bent to kiss him gently on the lips.

  “Hmm?” Charles asked wordlessly, at peace again.

  “I don’t consider this work. Every minute I get to spend with you is a treasure.” Quinn pulled his chair closer to the modified hospital bed and lay his head next to Charles’s hand. “Touch me?” he asked.

  Charles lifted his hand and set it on Quinn and gently stroked his graying temple. “You have such thick, beautiful hair.”

  “I think it grows like that just to satisfy you. You do know that it grows faster on the side you can reach. Maybe I should turn over so you could get to the other side, but then I wouldn’t be able to see your smile.”

  “What did I ever do to deserve you?” Charles asked. “I’ve been a horrible person. Yes, I’ve neglected my wife, but she doesn’t seem to care. She has her string of lovers to keep her happy. You know, once upon a time, I actually liked having sex with her…”

  Charles could feel Quinn tense at the admission, so he changed the subject of his melancholy reflection. “I guess what I regret the most is not spending time with my son. Looking back, I remember seeing the hope in his eyes when I came out for a photo shoot or dinner or to make a donation to the school he was going to attend.”

  Charles’s voice suddenly had a smile in it. “Did you know that kid got kicked out of so many private schools, my last resort was a monastery? Even they wouldn’t take him! And I was willing to build them a new chapel, too!”

  “He probably just wanted your attention. I know that’s how I was when I was younger. I had a great mother, most of the time, but when she’d bring home a new boyfriend, it all came tumbling down. She didn’t have time for me. The men resented even the slightest attention she’d show me. So, I left home early, developed a skill set working with an outreach program for street kids, and the next thing you know, I’m here.”

  “Quinn, your attention to detail is what got you in the door. Your creative bargaining ideas that allowed me to, shall we say, bake my cake and eat it, too, brought you to the top. You earned your position in the business, but won my heart with just being you. No skill set required.”

  “What are we going to do? You can’t die on me,” Quinn said, feeling the last bit of Charles’s vibrancy slip away, a chill sweeping over the two of them, snuggled as close as tubes and monitors would allow.

  “Find my son. Ask him to forgive me, would you?”

  Quinn sat up and kissed Charles’s hand. “How about you get better and we’ll do it together? I know you have more than one spark left. And if you feel it start to fade, I’ll jump start you with a few of mine. Deal?”

  Charles coughed and chuckled at the same time. “Are you going to hire an ambulance to drive me all over the country? I’ve had people looking for him everywhere for over a year now. If he’s alive, he doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Let me try a different tactic. You have to pull yourself together, though. I’d do it for you — you know that — but you need to do it for you. Come on, sit up, suck in the new year. Daylight hours are getting longer now. There’s more energy in the cosmos. Grab your share, and while you’re at it, grab Zelda’s. She’s already hogged too much of your life energy.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s going to have a shock coming when I do die,” Charles sighed, then turned away.

  “Hey,” Quinn said. “Not until you find Van. Who knows, maybe he has a kidney he’s willing to donate.”

  “Yeah, well, some things money can’t buy, I guess. Damned unique tissue.”

  ***

  “Hey, Friday, this is Quinn. No, he’s getting better, much stronger today than yesterday,” he lied. “Oh, and tell Zelda thanks for having Cookie make that soup. He said it was delicious. So, I was just wondering; now that the old man is feeling chipper, he’s asking about his son. You did say you had some private investigators looking for him, too. Any leads? No? Dang. He said he was going to give a million-dollar bonus to the first one who gives him proof that his son’s alive. I gotta tell you confidentially, though, if he saw the kid before Christmas, I’m sure he’d triple that amount. Or at least, I’d make sure he — or she — got a more than generous bonus for bringing him in to see his dad. Yeah, I know it’d be tough to meet that deadline; Christmas is only a few days away. A New Year’s gift and mega bonus would be just as great, though. All right. Make sure you keep me in the loop. The old man and I are flying out of the country to check out the holiday lights in a few of the bigger cities around the world. I’m not sure where we’ll wind up, but you have my number. I’d love for you to be the one to get that big fat bonus. Ciao, baby.”

  Quinn ended the call, then gagged in disgust and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “What’s wrong,” Charles asked.

  “Oh, I thought you were still asleep. I was just kissing up to Friday. It always leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. She’s still Zelda’s brains, or reins, depending on how ambitious the woman-who-shares-your-name is.”

  “Thanks for not calling her my wife. How about a little physical therapy?”

  “As much as I’d like to, I don’t think you’re ready for that yet,” Quinn said, remembering their ‘therapy sessions’ when they first got together ten years ago.

  “You give me too much credit,” Charles said, straining to sit up. “The desire’s still there, but the body needs to get stronger first. Come over here and help me sit up. If we keep at it, I’ll be able to walk to the bathroom by myself in a day or two.”

  “Yes, dear, but let’s take it slowly. And I’ll send out for some bagged salad, too. Maybe it’s time to listen to the nutritionist and eat more fresh fruit and veggies.”

  “If it’s a choice between spinach and funeral services, I think I’ll go for the greens.”

  Quinn put his arm behind Charles’s back and helped him sit up. “Great decision, Popeye,” he said and kissed him on the top of the head.
>
  ***

  “Change of plans,” Friday said into her phone. “The price just went up. Van’s worth more alive than dead. Plus, if you bring in that twin, I’m sure there’d be a bonus. No, it’s the old man, not Z, who’s paying this time. Speaking of Zelda, she’s getting on my last nerve. I’m ready to split the country. I just want a few extra euros in my account first. But, the bounty’s still good on Killer Queen. Z’s still ticked at her. Bring her in, and we’ll have the classiest little getaway in the Islands. What? I’ll tell you why you should split it with me. Because if I wasn’t feeding you — and only you — first-class intel, you’d still be chopping off body parts for bookies in The Bronx. Yeah, you, too. Later.”

  Vinny ended the call, then climbed the outside stairs to the second floor of the one-star hotel, letting himself in with an archaic metal key. “Who doesn’t use key cards?” he asked, fumbling with the metal key, trying to figure out which side was up.

  “Hey, Hugo!” he called out, not caring if he disturbed anyone else in the hellish hotel located in the middle of Nowhere Nevada. “Are you ever gonna wake up?”

  “Huh?” his wounded partner mumbled, slobber dripping from the side of his mouth as he lifted his head from the pillow.

  “No more pills, okay?” Vinny said. “You gotta get out of this funk. It’s been three days. I hate this no man’s land. Not a decent place to eat. I’m sick and tired of hamburgers and milkshakes.”

  “Milkshakes?” Hugo slurred, a crooked smile rising at the prospect of food. “Can you get me a double chocolate malt with those little candies crushed up in it? What do they call it?”

  “Garbage is what it is,” Vinny said. “Let me see your hand.”

  Hugo let him take his hand, then flinched. “I want another shot. I hurt.”

  “No more shots. Even if I had any more, I wouldn’t give you one.”

  “How about pills? Do we have any of those left?”

  “No,” Vinny grumbled, then allowed a growl to escape. “You downed the whole bottle day before yesterday. I thought you were going to die. You almost stopped breathing.”

  “But I hurt,” Hugo whined. “Make the pain go away, pretty please.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  Hugo looked embarrassed and wouldn’t meet Vinny’s accusing gaze. “Well, maybe. Just a little bit.”

  “How? Shit! You called room service when I was out getting dinner, didn’t you?”

  “They don’t have room service here,” Hugo said, “but I told the kid at the front desk that I’d give him a hundred bucks for a bottle of fine whiskey. It wasn’t very fine — it made me cough and burned my throat — but it did the trick. Can I have some more?”

  “No,” Vinny huffed, biting off the word idiot before it slipped out. “And all whiskey burns on the way down, whether it’s good or bad. Now, brace yourself. I’m gonna take off this bandage and look at the stitches.

  Hugo’s head flopped back on the pillow, the combination of a hangover and infection stealing all his energy.

  “Damn!” Vinny said, then gagged. He hastily rewrapped the wound. “Change of plans. Your hand needs a bath. A very hot bath. Do you smell that stink?”

  Hugo sniffed, then started coughing. “Smells like a shit took a shit.”

  “Yeah, well you got that right. Stay put. I’ll get you something else to drink. Maybe tequila will go down a little easier. Better still, I’ll see if I can make you some of my granny’s pain-free punch. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a flash.”

  Ten minutes later, Vinny was back from the liquor store. He grabbed the two glass tumblers the hotel provided, rinsed them out, then poured grain alcohol to the half-way point of both. He opened the bottle of what he called Mad Dog, took a hearty swig, then topped off both glasses.

  “Hey, Hugo.” He set one glass down and shoved the dozing man’s shoulder to rouse him. “Hey. I got you some of my granny’s punch. Try some, then I’ll get that stinky hand of yours cleaned up.”

  Hugo’s red eyes blinked open. He looked around, momentarily confused about his surroundings, then elbowed his way up to a sitting position. “Does it taste good?” he asked.

  “Very good,” Vinny said, bringing the cup to his own nose and inhaling. “Almost too good,” he added, fighting back the temptation to down it himself.

  “Okay. I’ll try it.” Hugo took a sip, then decided it tasted great and chugged the rest. “Got any more?”

  “Yeah, here. Just this one, though.”

  Hugo downed it in three, quick swallows. He slammed the glass onto the lamp table, hitting the edge of it, nearly sending the tumbler to the floor. “More.”

  “No. Let me go fill the sink with hot water, soap, and a little booze. That ought to clean up your stinky cut.”

  “Will it hurt?” Hugo whined.

  “Not so much now that you’ve had two cups of Granny’s punch. If I don’t do something, though, you’ll lose the end of that finger.”

  Two minutes later

  “Hey, Vinny, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to hit you. It was reflex. Are you gonna be okay?”

  Vinny kept the hand towel pressed to his nose. He tipped his head back, then leaned to the side and spat blood that had run down the back of his throat into the toilet. “One, two, three…”

  “Why are you counting?” Hugo asked, his left hand still soaking in the sink.

  “Because if I get to fifty and you’re still standing there, I’m gonna shoot you!”

  Hugo looked around Vinny to see whether his gun was in his holster or not — it wasn’t — then started to falter. “Whoa! I’m dizzy. Is that supposed to happen when you get a defection?”

  “That’s an infection, and the reason you’re dizzy is because you’re drunk.” Vinny removed the towel then looked in the mirror. “Damn! I’m gonna have two black eyes.”

  “You can wear sunglasses and no one will notice. That’s what my ma used to do.”

  ***

  Tink! Tink! Tink!

  Quinn looked down at his phone, verifying the personalized ring tone: it was Friday.

  “Hey, Doll,” he said brightly, then stuck out his tongue and grimaced. He looked at Charles, sitting upright, biting into a broccoli spear, and an instant smile bloomed. His lover was taking care of himself for the first time since he’d known him. It’s a start. A late one, but still a start.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I missed that. Damned stifled sneeze,” he lied. “You were saying? Really? Laketown? Oh, Lakeview. Let me write that down. Do you have an address? Yeah, well, let’s hope you’re right and everyone does know everyone else in a small town. Okay. If he’s there, I’ll get you taken care of. Same routing info? Yeah, I have it on file. I’ll be in touch. Ciao.”

  “I take it by that initial scowl and your special one-word dismissal that you were talking to Friday,” Charles said, smiling at Quinn’s apparent discomfort. Yes, he’d do anything for me. Such a treasure.

  Quinn lifted Charles’s hand and kissed it, then sat down on the bed beside him. “Great news! She told me where Van is! Not an address, per se, but it’s a small town in Oregon near the Nevada border. I’ll fly in, rent a car, and see if I can have him back here by Christmas morning.”

  “No,” Charles said flatly, shoulders back, frowning. Defiant.

  “What?” Quinn gasped. “I thought you wanted to see him.”

  Charles’s frown morphed into the brightest smile Quinn had seen in years. “I’m going with you. I don’t want to wait for his return trip. Besides, getting out of this place will be good for me. Who knows? Maybe I’m allergic to high rise buildings.”

  Quinn brought up his phone. “I’m on it! Finish up that green smoothie, then we can get you spruced up in your best.”

  “No,” Charles said, using the same contrary tone. He caught Quinn’s eye and winked. “I’m going casual if we’re heading out West. How about something comfortable, like my workout clothes?”

  “Better yet,” Quinn suggested, “how abo
ut that jogging suit I got you? Wind resistant and tailored perfectly to show off your broad shoulders and long legs.”

  “I feel stronger already.” He tipped up and finished his super greens drink. “Doesn’t taste as bad as it looks.”

  Quinn chuckled. “That’d be hard to do. I drink mine out of an opaque glass. Can’t stand the sight of it. I’ll do that for you next time, too. Come on. We have a family reunion to go to.” I hope.

  ***

  “Good afternoon, Sir,” Quinn said to the hardware store clerk. “I’m looking for a man…” He reached into his vest pocket to retrieve the picture.

  “Of course you are,” the grizzled man said. “Aren’t we all? No, sorry, that was rude. Good help is hard to find; a handyman even more of a challenge.”

  “No, Sir, not a handyman,” Quinn said, smiling weakly. “I’m sorry I don’t have a more recent picture, but I was told my friend’s son was in this area recently. They haven’t seen each other in a long time. My friend’s in poor health…”

  “Say no more,” Clerk said, taking the photo from his hand. He turned the high-quality portrait over, looking for a date. “How old is this?”

  “I’m not sure. The young man would be twenty-seven now. Or rather, he will be in a few days.”

  “Shoot! This is Van! He lives across the state line in Nevada. He’s been helping Pete since last summer, I think. Nice kid. Last I heard, he and Miss Lucy were getting hitched.”

  “He’s engaged!” Quinn exclaimed. “His father is going to be so excited. Can you give me an address? We’d like to see him before Christmas.”

  “Hmm…” The clerk pulled out the drawer under the counter and started rummaging. “I have a map in here somewhere…”

  Ding! Ding!

  The clerk looked up at the young man in a full-body snowsuit walking in. Quinn stepped to the side and pawed through the discounted tool bin, trying to be unobtrusive.