“Easier said than done, Arnold.”
“Tell me about it, kiddo,” he said sadly.
For the remainder of the afternoon, he felt as if he’d let Arnold down somehow. He’d always had such high hopes for Lucas, he’d always seemed proud of him, and Lucas had worked hard over the years to prove that his faith was warranted. But when Arnold had wrapped him up in a giant bear hug and slapped him on the back as they left the diner, the man hadn’t been able to disguise the concern on his broad face.
The guilt ate at Lucas all the way back to the garage, and it rode him hard as he buried himself in work.
Was he sabotaging himself? He didn’t think so. He was just being realistic. There was no future in a relationship when he was too ashamed to even take his boyfriend to his own apartment. He knew that Arnold would tell him to just get over himself. But that was easier said than done.
His mood spiraled into something so black that not even Tracy dared to disturb him. The guys left him shut up in his little office, alternating between cussing at invoices and staring off into space. When his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, he almost threw the damn thing across the room. He didn’t even care who it was. He knew it wasn’t Elliot.
“What?” he growled.
Silence, then an unfamiliar woman’s voice hesitantly asked, “Lucas?”
He yanked the phone away from his ear, heart freezing in his chest when he saw the name on the screen. It took a few swallows to get his voice past his dry throat. “Trish? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. I, uh… I saw a missed call from you a couple days ago. You didn’t leave a message—”
“It was a pocket dial,” he blurted. His face flamed, even though no one was there to see it.
“Oh.” She paused. “Okay. Well… I guess I’m sorry for bothering you, then. I’ll let you go.”
“Wait!” He winced and sank back in his chair, cursing himself for being such an idiot. He gazed up at the stained ceiling and took a deep breath, struggling to get ahold of his nerves. The silence on the other end of the line wasn’t encouraging, but she hadn’t hung up, so he forced himself to speak. “I did call. I was just thinking about the old days, wondering how you were doing, how your baby girl is doing.”
“We’re fine. Meggie is in second grade now. We just moved into a new place so she could go to a better school.” Her tone defrosted slightly when she spoke of her daughter.
“Yeah?” He cleared his throat to erase the hopeful crackle in his voice. “That’s good. She’s probably real smart, like you.”
Trish’s laughter was startled, but it sounded honest. “Smarter than me, thank God.”
“Nah. You always had your nose in a book. You were going to be the world’s most smartassed librarian.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Even though they both knew he had no clue what was going on in her life, he was hesitant to admit it out loud. But there wasn’t much of a way around it. The last conversation they’d had was almost three years ago, right after his release. She’d been so worried he would end up right back behind bars, and Lucas had resented the hell out of her for it. “Uh, you still with what’s his name?”
“No. Meggie and I fly solo these days.”
It ran in the family.
He felt all the muscles in his body tensing, locking down as if they sensed danger. He’d spent three years in a maximum security prison with men who had learned to behave like animals, but it was speaking to his little blue-eyed sister that terrified him.
“Do you need anything?” he asked hesitantly.
“We’re good,” she said immediately. It was her turn to hesitate. “What about you? Are you still at that garage?”
“I own it now.” It was a relief to give her some good news for once.
“No way!” She sounded genuinely enthusiastic. “Lucas, that’s fantastic! Just like dad! He’d be so proud of you.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” he said darkly.
She snorted, the noise coming through the speaker at ridiculously loud volume, and Lucas was charmed. “You always idolized him too much. He made plenty of mistakes of his own, you know. He always said the only thing that mattered is the way we treat the people around us. Remember?”
“I remember.”
“I tell Meggie that all the time. It’s been hard, but we’re on our way up. It doesn’t matter what our life used to be like. All that matters is what we’re doing now, and right now, we’re doing just fine.”
She was strong, his baby sister. “I’m glad, Trish. Really glad. I should have been around more when you needed me—”
“Nope!” she cut in sharply, and she sounded far too much like his grade school teacher for comfort. It must be the mothering side of her. “What did I just say? What’s the only thing that matters?”
“What we’re doing now,” he muttered.
“Exactly. Are you going to be around now, Lucas?”
It was what he’d wanted, what he’d hoped for but never believed could happen. When they were kids, before they’d both started hanging with the wrong crowds, she had looked up to him. But that was so long ago. She didn’t know him as an adult, and he didn’t know her.
All she knew was he was a criminal. He’d been so sure she wouldn’t want a bad influence like him around her little girl. Now here she was, offering him exactly what he’d secretly longed for, and he was too scared to say a word. If he committed to being there for her, that responsibility would tie him down in ways the garage never could. If he allowed her to count on him, there was a chance he could fail her.
“Lucas?” Her tone cooled.
He sucked in a deep, trembling breath. “I’m going to be around, Trish. I want it to be like when we were kids.”
“Like a real family?” He couldn’t see her, but he imagined the sunshine in her smile. Warmth flowed through him, and his shoulders finally relaxed.
“Yeah,” he whispered, “like a real family.”
For the first time all day, he felt like he could breathe again.
19
Elliot
Elliot felt like he’d swallowed a live coal the moment he entered The Dupree.
It was one of the most fashionable restaurants along the waterfront, and he used to dine there a few times a month. He hadn’t stepped through its gilded doors in ages. The lighting was amazing for a businessman nursing a headache, and they made a great martini and a decent steak. But all things considered, Elliot couldn’t believe he’d ever dumped so much money into the place.
Greg sat at a cozy two top by the windows overlooking the river. He was mid-sip of what Elliot knew was a double dirty martini when he spotted Elliot and waved him over.
He grimaced and forced himself to move. He was already miserable, so he’d figured piling a little more on top shouldn’t be much of a problem. But now that he was standing there, he realized there was only so much punishment a man could take before he lost it. Seeing Greg’s practiced smile made him aware that he was closer to the limit than he’d realized.
“Elliot! Glad you came!” Greg stood and heartily shook his hand, as if they were old friends ready to catch up. Elliot half expected a jovial slap on the back, but his warning expression had Greg keeping his distance.
He took a seat in one of the table’s plush high-back chairs and ordered a Bloody Mary the second their server got within earshot. It arrived with gratifying speed, and Elliot gulped half of it in a single go.
“Hair of the dog?” Greg smirked.
Yes. But Elliot had no desire to banter. “What did you want to talk about, Greg?”
The other man’s smile faltered. Something flickered across his expression, but Elliot wasn’t interested in guessing what it might be. “Are you going to order lunch? My treat. They have a new halibut aubergine that—”
“I’m not hungry.”
That was the truth. Elliot had spent the last few days subsisting entirely on bagels and alcohol. He would have to change that pattern pretty damn qui
ck. He didn’t have enough muscle that he could afford to lose it, or he’d be more of a human crane than he was already. But this afternoon was not the time to test the resiliency of his stomach.
Greg steepled his fingers under his chin. “You could make a little effort, Elliot.”
Elliot didn’t recognize the laugh that came out of his mouth, but it was ugly. He’d heard that phrase too many times to count during their relationship, everywhere from the office, to the tennis courts, to the bedroom. “It’s been a while since I heard your catchphrase.”
“For God’s sake, Elliot.”
“Look, Greg. We aren’t friends. The only time we’ve spoken in a year was the other day when you tried to scam a nice old man. I’m not in the mood to pretend either of us wants to catch up.”
Greg sighed. “This was always one of our problems, you know.”
“Do tell.”
“You were always so exhausting. Everything was so important and immediate.”
Elliot pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. He didn’t know if he had the strength to listen to a second former lover recite his failings in the same week. “Thank you, Greg, for that succinct assessment. Couldn’t this have been done over the phone?”
“No. Shut up.”
Elliot lifted his head and raised a brow. He folded his arms across his chest and checked his watch. “Okay. You’ve got ten minutes to say whatever you want to say.”
“You never used to be such a hard-ass.” Greg chuckled. “But all right, friend, all right. I want to apologize to you.”
“You did that already.”
“Not about that. I still believe everyone deserves competent representation, Elliot, whether or not they’re assholes.” The words were an eerie echo of Maksim’s sentiments the day before.
Elliot had once ascribed to a similar philosophy. Where had it gotten him? Halfway through life with nothing to show for it but money and cynicism. He wanted to spend the next forty years believing in people, even if he was the only defense attorney in the city who did.
Greg continued, “But… I could perhaps choose my clients more wisely. Seeing you the other day made me realize a few uncomfortable truths about myself. I apologized for cheating on you, remember?”
Elliot grunted.
“But it wasn’t a real apology. I gave you all the reasons I did it, and the reasons always came back to you, how you drove me to it.”
Elliot shoved his chair back and began to rise, but Greg lurched forward and grabbed his wrist. “Hear me out! Please. That’s what I told myself, okay? That you drove me to it, that you had changed. You did. You did change, Elliot. Every year you were with me, you got stronger and more independent. You had all these ideals. You looked at everything I did as if it was a waste, like I was this insipid sack of shit you couldn’t believe you’d been saddled with.”
Elliot gritted his teeth, but he sat back down to avoid making a scene. “I wanted love and passion, Greg. That was all I ever asked of you.”
“Ha!” Greg laughed. “No, you also wanted me to care about tort reform and donate to orphaned Bengal tigers or whatever the fuck. It’s great that you care about stuff, Elliot. The world needs that. But that’s not me. It can’t be me. You met my family. The only way I was able to survive until adulthood was by looking out for myself and only myself. That’s never going to change. That’s what I realized at our meeting the other day, while you and Kovalenko looked at me as if I was something you scraped off the bottom of your shoe. I like me, Elliot. I’m okay being me. I should never have taken it out on you that I wasn’t like you. I shouldn’t have tried to make you feel like less because I wasn’t more.”
Elliot stared in amazement. He’d assumed any self-reflection skills Greg may have once possessed had been repossessed when he made junior partner.
Greg continued, though his face was pinched in a moue of distaste. “I’ll admit I could have behaved better when I saw you with that guy the other night. I was childish. My excuse is that I was in shock at how good you looked, how confident and happy you were. You never looked that way with me. That’s when I realized what I’d been doing to you all those years, the mind fuck I pulled on both of us. I made us both miserable. So I wanted to tell you I’m sorry, and I’m happy you found someone you can be yourself with.”
The irony had Elliot about to vomit. He swallowed down his bile enough to reply. “Thank you, Greg. I mean that. But Lucas and I… we weren’t anything serious. In fact, we’re already over.”
He didn’t think the shock on the man’s face was feigned. “I’ll be honest. I didn’t like him. You could do way better than some grease monkey. But all that matters is that you care for him. That was obvious.”
“Yeah, well. I’m too much of a bloodsucker for him.”
Greg’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into a faintly receding hairline. “That isn’t possible.”
“Apparently, it is.”
“Then he’s a fool.”
Elliot tried not to think how pathetic he must be if he’d resorted to needing comfort from Greg Vernon, of all people. Whatever was left of his pride stung like hell.
“Then again, maybe he’s like me,” Greg mused. “Maybe he’s telling himself you’re a certain way because it makes him feel better about himself. You’re older and moderately successful, even working at that clown show Alex Cabrini is running. He’s young and blue collar at best.”
“I don’t care about any of that!” Elliot snarled.
“No. You wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”
“Well, there’s not much I can do about my age and career, so the point is moot, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.” Greg shrugged and ate the green olive from his martini. “I’ve resorted to hiring prostitutes, so I’m not the relationship expert you need.”
Elliot choked on his drink. He quickly spat his tomato juice into a linen napkin. “Jesus, Greg!”
Greg placed his hands flat and leaned across the table, dropping his voice to the low timbre of a man who meant what he said. “Do you want some advice? As someone who knows you better than you think? Don’t let him scare you off. Don’t let him convince you that you’re something you aren’t. You’re a man who needs to believe in people, Elliot. So believe in them. Not everyone will disappoint you the way I did.”
The next day, Greg’s words were still bouncing around in Elliot’s skull like kernels in a popcorn machine.
Maybe he was no different than Greg or Lucas. Maybe they were all operating from a place of fear.
Elliot had lost his entire life and everyone in it twice now. He’d lost all genuine affection with his family when he’d come out, and he’d lost all his friends and associates when he’d shotputted his career and turned his back on everything they valued.
There was now a part of him, perhaps a big part, that regarded everyone through a screen of suspicion, forever braced for the next loss. It was undoubtedly the main reason he hadn’t befriended any of his coworkers at the CLC. Perhaps it was also the reason he’d been so quick to completely write off the chance that Julio might be innocent. It was safer than taking the risk of believing in him. Statistically, recidivism rates for a kid like Julio were high. But Elliot had never believed in statistics over individuals. He’d forgotten that, or perhaps he’d merely used it as an excuse to protect himself from the possibility of disappointment.
He was determined to do better. He refused to let the likes of Greg Vernon believe he operated from a place of fear. So he sucked it up and knocked on the frame of Miguel Acosta’s open door. “Hey, you got a second?”
Miguel was on the phone, but he waved Elliot inside with a flick of his fingers. He leaned back in his swivel chair and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, scowling at whatever was coming through the receiver. “Look, Frankie, do what you’ve got to do. But I’ve got five hundred balloons that will show up at your door if you cancel this event.”
Elliot settled against the wall and folded hi
s arms across chest, amused despite himself. Miguel was a wild card. He never knew what to expect when he opened his mouth.
“Yes, with the clown, goddammit! I promised them a clown!”
Elliot’s lips twitched, but he waited until Miguel dropped the phone back into its cradle with deliberate vengeance before letting loose a chuckle. “What the hell was that about?”
“Fundraiser for Smiles for Kids.”
“I thought you volunteered at Beat the Streets?”
“That too.” Miguel waved it off and kicked his sneakers up on the corner of his desk. “Now, what can I do for you?”
Elliot awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… you heard I’m having some trouble with my Gonzalez case?”
“He got himself thrown in the clink. Yeah, I heard.”
“Something about the official story isn’t sitting right with me. The accomplices who named him are affiliated with a street gang. I thought maybe you’d have some insight for me.”
“Which gang?”
“Surenos.”
He chuckled, but there was no amusement in it. “Yeah, you might say I’ve had some experience with them.” He rubbed at the ink sleeve that ran from his wrist to beneath the cuff of his black polo shirt. “Your kid runs with them?”
“He used to be friends with a few members. As far as I know, he never had any personal affiliation. But it seemed unusual for these kids to roll on him, even if he was never member.”
Miguel’s dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “He running with any new gangs now?”
“No.” Of that, Elliot was confident. “He’s been keeping busy with work. The only friend he supposedly still hangs out with is a kid named Juan. I was thinking of going down to his neighborhood and asking around, seeing if this kid has any idea what Julio was spending his money on.”
“By yourself?” Miguel’s eyebrows shot skyward.
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