by P. A. Brown
“Let’s hope so.”
Chris bounced over to them. “Ready to go? I’m all done here.”
“That’s good to know,” David said.
Trotter called them a cab, and it arrived soon after.
David took Chris’s arm and followed Joel and Imani out to the cab. Chris couldn’t help but grin at him. “Making sure I get out with a few checks still in my wallet?”
“You’ll thank me one day,” David growled, but he couldn’t hide his amusement. He knew damn well Chris was never going to change.
Out in the driveway he was still holding Chris’s arm. A car flew by and through the open windows they heard a rough male voice shout, “Take it home, faggots. Your kind ain’t welcome here.”
ChAPteR ten
Monday, 4:25pm Rose Grotto, College Hill Road, Devonshire Parish, Bermuda
They pulled into Joel’s driveway to find two scooters and the pickup truck present. No one came out to greet them. Imani raced up the steps and threw open the front door, but instead of entering, she spun around and stormed to the edge of the veranda.
“Did you hear those ass—those jerks? God, do they ever stop?” She was almost in tears. She clenched her hands into fists.
“It makes me ashamed to be Bermudian.”
“Now, honey,” Joel said. “You don’t mean that. You know as many good people as I do. It’s not fair to paint everyone with the same brush.”
As though to challenge his words, Imani’s brothers came out of the house. Baker was a lithe, dark man barely out of his teens; Jay favored his father in height and build. Neither of them looked any too pleased to see Chris or David.
“It’s not enough you drag them all over dis rock,” Jay said.
“Giving all our friends a chance to stare and laugh, shaming us all, but you have to bring them back here when we said they wasn’t welcome.”
“You’re a nasty piece of work, aren’t you?” Imani jammed her fists against her side, glaring at each brother in turn. “I’m ashamed to be related to you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Baker snapped.
“It ain’t natural. No real man sleeps with other men.”
Chris nearly looked heavenward as though for help. Next they were going to start quoting Leviticus. He felt David’s body tense and he waited for the outburst, but it came from Joel rather 94 P.A. Brown
than his son.
“You’re all my sons, but you overstep yourselves. You are being rude to my guests. I thought I had raised you better.
Apologize.”
“But poppa, he’s—”
“He’s my son, and Chris is the friend of my son. You will respect that or you will leave.”
Instead of cooling them off, Joel’s words only served to fuel their fury.
“I’ll leave all right.” Jay stalked down the steps to the lawn, brushing past Chris and nearing knocking him over. “And I’ll stay gone until you come to your senses and send this sick fuck out of here.”
“Jay! That kind of language is unacceptable. I insist you apologize—”
“Screw that.” Jay straddled his bike and jammed his helmet down on his head. “I’ll be back once this pervert leaves. I can’t believe you thought he could help me. Really, Dad, I thought you knew better.”
He threw the bike into gear and popped a wheelie on the way out onto College Hill Road, spewing gravel as he slid onto the pavement.
Imani looked stricken. Joel merely looked grim. “Fool,” he muttered. He shook his grizzled head and turned to face David.
Before he could speak, David took Chris’s arm and drew him toward him. “I think we’ve done enough damage for one day,”
he said. “Thank you for inviting us. I hope we can see each other again before we head home.”
“No!” Imani said. She looked at her father. “You can’t just let them walk away like that. Not because of Jay or the other island bigots. That’s so unfair.”
David tried again. “I think it’s better for all of us—”
She did everything but stamp her feet. “No, it’s not better.
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How can you say that? I’m your sister, this is your dad. Maybe you’re still pissed that he ignored you for all those years, but that wasn’t his fault. Don’t you see, he wouldn’t have stayed away if he’d known.”
“Let them go.” Baker sneered, clearly enjoying the show from his vantage point on the veranda. He stuffed a sweet roll into his mouth and chewed noisily.
When the door popped open again everyone turned to look at the young man who stepped out onto the veranda. He was followed by two others who, in sharp contrast to the first man, looked like street thugs. One bore an armful of tattoos and the other had a thick mat of Rastafarian hair that looked like small animals might nest in it. The first man was a real beauty, rich bronze skin with startling gray eyes. His hair hung nearly to his shoulders, but on him it looked right. His gaze swept around the frozen tableau.
“I’m interrupting. Sorry.” A lazy smile said he really wasn’t.
Chris was startled to see Imani blush and duck her head.
“Daryl. I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t even know you were back.”
Joel stiffened and Chris could have sworn a flash of dislike crossed the older man’s face before he suppressed it. The smile he gave the younger man was clearly forced. “Daryl,” he said. “I had no idea you were home. What happened to your school year in Florida?”
“Nothing,” Daryl said quickly. He never looked away from Imani. “I’m just back.”
Chris looked away from the trio quickly when they looked at him. He was no coward, but he knew better than to get in the face of hostile straights. Guys with a chip on their shoulders usually weren’t open to reason. But his eyes were drawn back again to Daryl. He didn’t seem as unfriendly as the others. In fact he seemed more relaxed than anyone else in the fractured tableau, including Joel and David.
Imani certainly seemed thrilled to see the newcomer.
96 P.A. Brown
Chris watched their interaction with curiosity. Joel strode up, interrupting the two.
“But I don’t understand, Daryl,” Joel said. “Your father sent you to Florida. Am I right?”
Daryl smiled. “Miami. Mom got sick so I had to come back.”
Joel spun around to face Baker and Jay. “You should have told me your friend was back. At the very least you should have told me Mary was ill.”
“Pop, he asked us not to. He didn’t want to make a fuss—”
“He’s right, sir,” Daryl said. “Mom wasn’t really that sick and she didn’t want it blown out of proportion by well-meaning friends. No offense, sir.”
“I’ll still speak to your father about this. This isn’t right, you throwing away your schooling. I’m sure your father will agree.”
“Please don’t do that, sir,” Daryl said. “We’ve already talked about it. He understands.”
It was clear to Chris that Joel didn’t agree. Probably just unhappy Daryl was back in Imani’s life.
“But please, enough, join us for a drink, Daryl. I’ll call your father tomorrow.” He looked at Chris and David. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Chris answered first. “No, not at all.”
“Excuse me,” Joel said. “I should introduce you. This is Thomas and Emmanuel Cray, and this young man is Daryl Billings. His father and I are cousins. We worked together many years ago on one of his deep-sea fishing boats until I decided I’d rather dig in dirt than water.”
Chris held out his hand. “Hi, Daryl, I’m Chris, this is David.”
Daryl’s easy smile sent Chris’s pulse thundering. He barely noticed Imani slip in beside Daryl, laying her hand possessively on his arm. If Chris had been a better family friend, he would have hooted with amusement. David’s little sister had a big time crush.
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Joel still didn’t look happy, but then having a good-looking man co
urting his young daughter was bound to tie any man’s shorts in a knot.
“I thought we were heading out to St. David’s,” Baker whined.
“You go on ahead,” Daryl said. “I’ll catch up with you later.
Pa’s expecting you. Just tell him I got delayed. I’ll catch a bus later.” The look he flashed Imani’s way was not the least bit coy.
“Maybe I can’t get someone to drop me off in Hamilton.”
Reluctantly the three of them climbed onto two scooters and raced out of the driveway in the same direction as Jay.
Imani made a rude noise. Her look was apologetic. “My brother can be such a stubborn fool sometimes.”
Daryl patted her arm. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just a kid.”
“He’s older than you.” But Imani was laughing now. “But you’re right, he acts like a little brat sometimes.”
“He’s always been that way,” Joel said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” David held up his hand when Joel started to speak again. “Don’t apologize.”
“We run into that all the time,” Chris said.
Chris and David sat back down while Joel got drinks for everyone. Daryl pulled up a lawn chair beside David.
“You’re from L.A.? That must be cool. I watch all the TV cop shows.” He grinned, displaying beautiful, white teeth. “You have the right to remain silent.” He laughed. “You really say that? Bet it’d be easier if you could just bust a few heads open.”
“Start doing that and the wrong people end up in jail,” David said. Daryl shrugged, unperturbed by David’s unspoken censure.
Joel returned with their drinks.
“We really can’t stay long,” David said.
Joel swirled his rum swizzle and looked down at the clinking ice. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to find you sooner, David,” he said. “I let my pride keep me from my son. What kind of man does that?”
98 P.A. Brown
“You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself,” Daryl said. “I’m sure David understands.”
You don’t know David, Chris almost said. But David wasn’t talking, so he kept his own mouth shut. Chris thought of David’s mother. Wondering what she would think of this little gathering.
Probably be horrified. The thought cheered him.
“My biggest regret—” Joel started. When Daryl opened his mouth to speak, Joel held up his hand. “No, let me speak. My biggest regret is leaving your mother alone when I should have been there for her. And for you.”
“My mother wanted it that way,” David said. “And I know my mother. When she wants something she tends to get it.”
“You should not disparage her.”
“I know, I know,” David said. “She tried.”
Bull was Chris’s only thought. But he kept the sentiment to himself. No reason to keep stirring that pot.
“Do you really have to go?” Imani asked when they had finished their drinks and refused another one. “I could make supper, cassava pie, Portuguese red bean soup and codfish with bananas. I’ll bet you don’t get anything like that in Los Angeles.
Daryl, you could stay, too.”
Was it his imagination, or did Joel frown over Imani’s invitation? Chris studied Daryl. He could see why a father might be uneasy about his young daughter’s obvious interest in a good-looking, but older man. Men always seemed to have a hard time dealing with potential lovers for their daughters.
The moment passed. It wasn’t exactly something Chris could ask about.
David shook his head. “Tempting, but we really have to leave.”
Joel called a cab and they waited outside for it, sipping a beer that Imani brought out for them. Daryl stood close to Imani and it was obvious to Chris that Joel really wasn’t impressed.
The kiskadee, or one like it, screamed at them from the BeRMudA heAt 99
scented plumeria tree. A small green gecko ran up one of the butter yellow walls while several bees hummed around various blossoms.
The taxi van pulled into the drive. Chris glanced at his watch as they climbed into the backseat. “You sure you don’t want to stay here? It’s early.”
“I think I need some time to take in everything that’s happened.”
Chris nodded. “Fair enough. You want to go into town then? Do some sightseeing? Since we’re at this end of the island anyway.”
David raised an eyebrow. “Not done spending?”
“I only want to look.”
“Yeah, right.” David sighed. “Why not? Let’s play tourist.”
He gave the cabbie their new destination. A radio played in the background. “Tropical storm Fay has shifted position in the Atlantic and predictions are that it may hit Bermuda sometime late Friday afternoon, Saturday at the latest. We’ll keep you posted with up-to-date storm tracking throughout the rest of the week.”
“Hurricane?” Chris met the cabbie’s gaze in the mirror. “You get a lot of hurricanes?”
“Not many, man.” The cabbie shrugged. “Florence came through in ’06, it busted up some power lines. In 2003 Fabian hit us hard. Lot of damage that time.”
“Not like Katrina though, right?”
“Nothing like Katrina, but our homes be built tough. Not much can tear down a Bermuda house. Break the windows, yeah, and bring all the fine palm trees down, but no Katrina. But that one, in ’03, that was bad. Two police officers swept off the Causeway. Terrible thing.”
“What happens during a hurricane?”
“Now they shut the Causeway and the airport, no getting on or off island. Buses don’t run. Most businesses close, too.
100 P.A. Brown
Sometimes we lose power. Most power lines be above ground since the whole rock’s built on limestone. The buildings be safe, but you don’t want to catch it outside. Winds like crazy. Blow you away like you a scrap of paper.”
Having never been in a hurricane, Chris could only imagine.
The cab dropped them off on Front Street, across from the cruise ships’ dock. Two hulking cruise ships were in port, their massive white super structures looming over a street that thronged with tourists. Chris spotted a rock climbing wall on the back of the Norwegian Spirit. A muscular black man in shorts and a muscle shirt pulled himself up the wall. Chris poked David and they both watched the sweat-slicked man as he reached the top, before sliding back down on the line. When he disappeared behind the upper deck railing Chris sighed.
David laughed. “Come on, stud muffin,” he said softly, so no one would overhear. “Show’s over.”
Chris realized they were being stared at. It was as though everyone on the street could read their thoughts and were disgusted with them. Chris dug his fists into his hip pockets, ignoring the urge to take David’s hand. He could just imagine the horrified reaction such a simple, harmless act would generate.
They strolled along Front Street, peering in at Versace and Louis Vuitton bags, Rolex watches and Hermes scarves. Chris made a concerted effort to refrain from his usual exuberance.
And he hated it. He wasn’t used to hiding who he was, he hadn’t in years, but he knew David would be mortified if they were exposed and people started staring at them like zoo animals.
Chris wouldn’t do anything to embarrass David, so he squelched the desire to stand up and shout at the knowing looks that yes, they were gay, yes they were married. It wouldn’t impress anybody, least of all David.
Instead he concentrated on people watching. There was an unending variety. Staid businessmen looking a bit less serious than their American counterparts in their Bermuda shorts and dark knee socks. American tourists loaded down with cameras BeRMudA heAt 101
and tote bags stuffed with useless trinkets to prove they’d actually been somewhere. Even a few teens who seemed to Chris to be a lot less rowdy than their Stateside cousins roamed the sidewalks in packs. But not packs looking for trouble, it seemed.
They walked down Front Street. Night descended; the cruise ships lit up like over-decorated
Vegas Christmas trees.
They stopped in a place called Flanagan’s where David had a Guinness Stout, while Chris sampled what the server promised was the world’s best White Russian.
Once the waiter had delivered their drinks, they settled back in their seats. Chris swirled the white Russian around, hearing the soft clink of ice cubes.
“It’s hard, isn’t it?”
“What is?” David asked. “Finding out the man I thought was dead is very much alive? I still can’t wrap my head around it. I thought my life was pretty straightforward. I had a family when I was growing up, not the best family; there were no Beaver Cleaver moments, but Da—Graham was good to me. Now I find out it’s all a lie.”
“Not all,” Chris said. “Graham was still a good father. At least he tried.”
“Unlike my mother, who must have thought she had a doppelganger on her hands. All her lies couldn’t make me the son she wanted. I wonder if she blamed my father for the way I turned out. She’d like to blame someone, that much I know.”
David was looking over the railing at the scene below, and Chris could see how hard he was working to affect a calm demeanor.
“I don’t like this place,” Chris blurted. “I thought it would be a lark, but we were doing so good, now it’s like we’re being forced back in the closet.”
Chris could tell David wanted to offer assurances, but the fact that he wouldn’t touch Chris said it all. He sighed. Some things never changed.
102 P.A. Brown
It was late when they caught a cab and returned to Aunt Nea’s. Chris put on his silk pajamas and headed for the deck overlooking Ordnance Island. He carried his laptop with him.
David followed him outside and handed him a glass of wine.
He stood next to Chris, their hips touching. Chris set the laptop down on a glass-topped table and leaned on the railing, looking sideways at David.
David reached for Chris’s hand and twined their fingers together. “Maybe I can’t always show it, but I do love you. That’s never going to change.”
“No?” Chris whispered. “Sometimes I think you’re ashamed to be seen with me. Without me around no one would know, and I can’t hide what I am—”
