Ruth Taylor was the same type, but she’d found herself a millionaire boyfriend now. Sure, she still worked part-time at that queer joint on Castro Street, maybe to impress the old man, as if he cared. All she was doing was taking a job away from some poor homo who probably needed the hours worse than she did. Hell, he was doing everyone a favor by getting rid of that broad. Once the millionaire put a ring on her finger, she’d bleed him dry too. She was just like his wife.
Another swirl of fog enveloped him and the flask grew lighter with each swallow.
A couple of blocks away, Nick and Tim held hands across the table while they waited for their food. Their passionate reunion in Tim’s bed, followed by a trip to Davies Hospital to wait for Aunt Ruth, had worked up their appetites.
"The back booth at Orphan Andy’s wasn’t exactly the setting I had in mind for our first meal together in a while. I just couldn’t think of where else we could go without even taking a shower first, but I was starving. I’m still kinda sticky. I hope you’re not disappointed."
"Don’t be silly, Snowman," Nick rubbed the flesh of his thumb across the backs of Tim’s knuckles, one finger at a time.
"We can eat at Fleur de Lys another time. It’ll still be there tomorrow and besides, we can make out here if we want to."
Nick leaned across the table and gave Tim a wet kiss on the nose.
"Didn’t you get enough at my house?"
Nick grinned and shook his head as the waiter put their meals in front of them. "Let’s see here… a bacon cheeseburger and fries for you, Tim… right? And you have the pancakes, eggs over easy, hash browns, bacon, sausage, and I’ll be right back with some hot syrup… ready for more coffee?"
"Thanks," Tim said to the waiter and then asked Nick,
"How can you eat breakfast at this hour of the night? You remind me of Jean-Yves."
"I can eat breakfast any time. And in answer to your question, no, I didn’t get enough earlier. I can never get enough of you, Snowman."
"You smooth-talker." Tim shook the ketchup bottle and stared into Nick’s eyes.
"And who’s Jean Yves?"
"A Frenchman I used to know. He was a flight attendant who looked me up whenever he had a layover in San Francisco."
"A lay – over? I’ll bet he did—"
"I wonder whatever became of him. It’s been ages."
"You and your sordid past."
The gunman reached for the reassuring weight of the cold steel when a pair of headlights startled him. It was only a Jeep turning the corner by the Harvey Milk Civil Rights Academy. The driver was dressed in leather, probably looking for a parking place—some dude meeting friends for a drink in the Castro before they headed south of Market. Maybe he was going to his boyfriend’s apartment to tie him up… to each his own. In a way, he had to hand it to the queers, though; they were free to do their thing, not stuck with a whiney woman who could never be satisfied.
He caught his shadowy reflection in a bay window and almost laughed out loud. He could pass for one of them tonight in his boots and jeans and leather coat. It was longer than a biker’s jacket and the leather was brown instead of black, but no one would notice in this light. He was older than most of the guys who cruised Collingwood Park on foot. He didn’t look out of place, though. He might be out here looking to score some fleeting anonymous sex… or drugs.
Drugs, hah! He never touched ’em! If these kids wanted to fry their brains, it was fine by him. He was happy to take their money. It was all business, as far as he was concerned—good business, raking in big bucks on his share alone and he didn’t have to get his hands dirty. Well, there was that boy he’d been forced to dispose of, but at least he didn’t have to deal with the chemistry lab.
Cutting up that boy was as easy as butchering a pig—shit happened when people got in the way, that’s all. Let that be a lesson to the rest of them. Somebody had to be the enforcer. He was good at killing and he didn’t know crap about manufacturing the stuff, but that’s what his partners were for.
"The Enforcer," he said out loud. He liked the sound of it and that’s what his job was. That’s what he was good at, being TheEnforcer. He got more respect for it than he ever did at his other job and a hell of a lot more respect than he ever got at home.
When they found the fingers and the eyeball it should have been enough to scare anyone. Hell, he hadn’t even meant to lose the eyeball. It just got away from him and slipped down the drain, but they found it. They should have had enough sense to stay out of the way after that. But no, that busybody barmaid and the old lady in black had to stick their noses in.
The old lady was the one who called the police, but that’s what you’d expect an old lady to do. She didn’t live in the city and she didn’t drive so he didn’t worry so much about her getting in the way. He just had to teach that Taylor woman a lesson and a bullet through the head was a pretty good teacher.
If need be, he’d take care of the old lady later. At her age, accidents happened all the time.
He’d thought about waiting to ambush her at the hospital tonight. She must still be there now at the daughter’s bedside, even though it was past visiting hours. There were places he could have hidden in the bushes, but getting away afterward might have been a problem. And if he didn’t kill her outright, she’d be right there at the emergency room where the doctors might save her. She’d be much too close to salvation for him to take that chance.
Now his partners would have to move the meth lab from Hartford Street and find a whole new spot for the operation. It was lucky they still had plenty of merchandise to sell in the meantime. He would hate for their regular customers to find a new source.
Tim worked a couple of French fries through a puddle of ketchup on his plate. "God, I hate hospitals… especially emergency rooms. Thanks for waiting with me until Aunt Ruth got back. I couldn’t pretend to be as concerned about Dianne as I knew her mother would be."
"No problem, Snowman. I’ve gotten used to waiting around hospitals since I’ve known you."
"At least they took her to Davies—it’s within walking distance—not that Dianne has made any friends in the Castro who would come to see her. It’ll be convenient for Aunt Ruth, though. Did you get enough to eat? You’ve been shoveling it in like a field hand!"
"I guess I did work up an appetite. What do you think is wrong with your cousin, anyway? Has anyone talked to her husband in Texas?"
"Aunt Ruth tried to call him, but nobody seems to know where he is. Apparently they’re taking ‘separate vacations’ this year. And the doctors won’t know what’s wrong until the tests come back. I’m just glad Sam is there with Aunt Ruth—almost as glad as I am that you’re here with me."
"Me too, Snowman," Nick smiled and placed his big strong hand across the table for Tim to take hold of again. "Me too."
TheEnforcer saw another set of lights turn the corner now. This time he felt lucky. It was a black limousine with a driver in uniform and the rest of the windows tinted so dark he couldn’t see inside. He placed his finger on the trigger, still deep in his pocket and stepped behind the tree out of the headlights.
The car angled into the driveway, but it was too long to fit all the way in.
He walked downhill to the next tree and stopped again as the driver set the parking brake and got out to open the passenger door.
Damn! She had the millionaire with her. What was the boyfriend’s name? Sam, he thought it was. The millionaire reminded him of the retired army General Wesley Clark.
Between the limo driver and the General, there was no way to get a clean shot at the broad. He stared down the sight of the gun as the three of them reached the gate, but she was shorter than both the men. She was already inside when the boyfriend took their bags from the chauffer on the doorstep and said a few words he couldn’t hear. Then the driver got back in the car and pulled away and it looked like the millionaire was in there with her for the night.
Damn it all! It was a good thing he had a back-
up plan.
He returned the gun to his pocket and walked down the hill on Collingwood Street to Delano’s 24-Hour Supermarket where he’d left his car. A pair of men held hands while they walked their faggoty little dog. There was nothing but homos out here tonight. Another queer wore skin-tight pants with holes all over them and a jacket open down the front to show off his bare chest—on a night like this!? He stepped out of the shadows and right up close. "Gotta light?"
"I don’t smoke."
"Too bad… you party?"
"Not with the likes of you!"
"Ass-hole!"
"Faggot!"
The queer tried to spit at him, but missed. It was well past time to get out of here before he caught something worse than a cold. The wife had told him to pick up a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs and half-gallon of milk so he stopped into Delano’s.
Aside from a boy stocking shelves and one lonely checker, the place looked deserted. He paid for the groceries with cash. At least now there’d be one less thing for her to bitch about when he got home.
Chapter 16
unday morning was the first time in months that Tim and Nick could sleep late, cuddle up together and make S out without any of Tim’s bandages or casts in the way.
This weekend felt almost as hot as their first time together… or better. The sublime comfort of familiarity and trust made up for the thrill of newness. And Nick was right about Fleur de Lys. It was still there the next day and for countless Sundays afterward.
They never went to eat there in order to find out, but it would have made the news if it had burned down.
The two of them had so much fun having sex together that Tim felt foolish for pushing Nick away lately. The soreness from Tim’s accident had completely left him, his paranoia melted away and he had never felt so loved.
Nick had to go back up north on Sunday evening, so Tim woke up alone on Monday morning. Now he felt a little sore and achy, but that might have been the result of so much strenuous exercise in bed. He reached for Nick, but only found his pillow, so he buried his face in Nick’s scent and tried to get back to sleep. He had nothing on his schedule for today except some long-neglected housecleaning chores. He might throw a load of wash into the machine, but not this pillowcase… not yet.
The doorbell rang as Tim poured water into the coffee maker, so he pulled on a robe on his way to the front of the house. "Aunt Ruth!" Tim yelled down from the window. "What’s going on?"
"If you let me in, I’ll tell you. I hope I didn’t wake you boys, but I sure could use a cup of coffee."
Tim buzzed her in and started opening windows. He no longer smelled Nick’s hair, but the place reeked of sex—sweat, pot, lube and poppers. The living room smelled more like a locker room and the day was already getting warm, by San Francisco standards. Tim looked around and spotted his crumpled blue jeans in front of the fireplace. His jockey shorts were on the floor beside the arm of the couch, where Nick had pulled them off him last night. "Come on in the kitchen with me, Aunt Ruth. I just put the coffee on."
"How about getting a big hug from my favorite nephew first? Where’s Nick?"
"He drove back to Monte Rio late last night. He had to be at the nursery first thing this morning to accept a delivery.
Some of the new greenhouses are far enough along to start stocking them with seedlings."
"Did you two have a good weekend, dear?"
"The best ever," Tim answered with an ear-to-ear grin.
"It shows on your face this morning."
Tim wiped the corners of his mouth, even though that wasn’t what she’d meant. "I tried your cell phone and then I called the Claremont and they said you’d already checked out, but I couldn’t reach you in Tahoe, either."
"We had a lovely time until we had to rush back, of course."
"Oh, right. I keep erasing Dianne from my memories.
Nick and I got out of there as soon as you showed up the other night. We were starved. And then we spent most of yesterday…
So, how is my dear cousin?"
"She’s stable, but still sedated." Ruth blew on her coffee.
"Can we keep her that way?"
Aunt Ruth frowned. "I’m on my way over to the hospital now and I was hoping you’d come with me. Sam went back to Hillsborough to take care of business this morning, too. Dianne’s doctors said they might have some more of the test results back today. I know she’s not your favorite person, nor does she deserve to be. She’s been incredibly rude to you and—"
"I’ll be glad to go along for your sake, if not hers. It’ll do me good to get out of the house, anyway. Aside from a trip to the emergency room and a late-night dinner at Orphan Andy’s, I’ve have been holed up here since Saturday night and here it is Monday morning. Should we take the T-Bird?"
No, let’s walk. It’s only a few blocks."
They found Dianne sitting up in bed. She looked pale, but alert. Ruth gave her a peck on the cheek. "What beautiful flowers. Who are they from?"
"I don’t know and I don’t care!"
Tim read the card and let out a laugh.
"What’s so damned funny?" Dianne snatched the card from Tim. Her lips moved as she read the inscription. "This says they’re from you, Tim. Did you send me flowers?"
"No, that’s what’s so funny. Nick must have sent them and signed my name as a joke. So, did the doctors say you’re at death’s door or will you live to torture your mother and me another day?"
"The doctors just left." Dianne turned toward Ruth.
"You’d better sit down, Mother. Move those things off that chair and pull it closer to me so I don’t have to shout."
"What is it, dear?" Ruth sat and tried to take Dianne’s hand, but it was snatched away. "What did the doctors say?"
"It’s my kidneys. I knew they were failing, but I thought I had more time. I need to start dialysis soon if I can’t find a transplant. The doctors want to talk to you about being a donor.
That’s the only reason I came to California in the first place."
Ruth stared across the bed at Tim and turned as white as the hospital sheets.
"Aunt Ruth, are you all right?"
Ruth blinked a couple of times and the color slowly returned to her face. She stared out the window and finally spoke without looking at either Tim or Dianne. "There’s something you need to know, Dianne. I would have told you a long time ago, but I promised not to… not unless it came to something like this."
"What is it, Mother?"
"Do you remember my old college friend, Cindy? She and Jack lived in St. Louis Park during most of the years while you were growing up in Edina."
"Sure, I remember," Dianne said. "We kids called it St.
Jewish Park. I never understood why you wanted to be friends with a person like that. What has this got to do with me, Mother?"
"I’m getting to that. First, I just wanted to make sure you remembered her."
"Yeah, I remember when you had her baby-sit me in that big old house sometimes, but I always thought she was weird.
What about her?"
"Cindy and I met at Stanford, where we grew into the best of friends. We even roomed together during our senior year." Ruth paused and stared out the window again for a minute. "We also both got pregnant at the same time…"
"So?"
Tim could see where this confession might lead and he could hardly believe what he was hearing, but Dianne was oblivious to anything that wasn’t directly and obviously related to her. "Well, neither of us was married, of course, so Cindy and I considered ourselves lucky to have each other’s support during that time. Dan and I decided to get married as soon as I started to show, but Cindy—"
"Don’t tell me," Dianne interrupted. "She got herself knocked up by some guy who wouldn’t do the right thing by her. How typical of a woman like that."
"Dianne, let me finish!" Ruth glared at her. "Cindy and Jonathan were crazy about each other. Jonathan Goldstein. I’ve hardly thought of him in all these years
. Cindy’s family heartily approved of him, a good Jewish boy, going places. When I say
‘approved’ I meant they approved of them dating. Cindy’s parents lived in Boston and Jonathan came from upstate New York. No one but Cindy and I had an inkling that a grandchild was on the way. That would have been a different matter, especially back then."
Tim hadn’t been aware of holding his breath until he let it out. "Thank goodness times have changed and people are more enlightened nowadays. I don’t know whether or not that’s true in Texas, but—"
"Don’t interrupt," Dianne snapped at Tim.
Ruth stood up and walked over to the window before she continued. "Dan and I got married and Cindy knew Jonathan would have married her, if he’d known about the baby, but his number came up in the lottery and the next thing we knew he was on his way to Viet Nam."
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