by Chris Scully
With a rueful shake of his head, Louie headed for the shower.
Peter arrived on time, which in Louie’s book was another point in his favor. Aaron had always been “fashionably” late for everything—to the point where Louie factored that in when making arrangements.
He shouldn’t compare Peter to his ex. Just like he shouldn’t feel all bubbly and excited at the prospect of spending the day together. But he did, just the same.
“Hey,” he said a little breathlessly, having dashed out of the house at the sight of Peter coming up the walk.
“This is an ungodly hour,” Peter grumbled in greeting. “You know that, right?”
“Hey, you volunteered.”
“Obviously I didn’t know what I was getting into. I need caffeine.”
“We can stop on the way,” he said with a grin. “We’re taking Demetra’s car.” Louie unlocked the sporty Mini Cooper and they both climbed in. He handed Peter the list of addresses and his phone with the GPS. “You’re navigator.”
He was jolted out of his seat as a thunderous techno beat shook the car the instant he turned the key in the ignition. He punched three buttons on the console before he found the right one to turn it off. “Jesus, Dee,” he muttered in the sudden silence.
“Have you got something against dance music?”
“Not when it doesn’t make my ears bleed. I guess I’ve been listening to too much sad stuff lately.”
“Why sad?”
Louie hesitated as he backed out of the driveway. “Relationship troubles.”
“Oh.”
Damn. He’d done it again. Made Peter uncomfortable. He tried changing the topic. “So how did you and Dee ever connect? I would never have thought of putting you together.”
“How do you think?” Peter shot him a wry look that made him laugh.
“Ah yes, the maternal marriage market. My sympathies.”
“My mom knows your mom… you know how it is. You’re so lucky you don’t have to deal with that.”
Louie’s grin slipped. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have minded putting up with a bit of it. He’d jump at the chance to have his folks more involved in his life and interested in who he spent it with. “Yeah, sure,” he murmured, turning his attention to his driving. “Which way?”
“First stop, coffee town.”
After a quick detour through the nearest drive-thru for coffee, Peter directed him to an unfamiliar area in the east end of the city. He chattered nonstop, as though he’d been saving up a year’s worth of words. Or had a bad case of nerves. It made Louie smile. Maybe this move back home wouldn’t turn out to be so bad after all.
The first viewing on his appointment list was in an older four-story low-rise apartment building in a transitional neighborhood. It was close to transit so he wouldn’t have to worry about needing a car to get to work, and the price for the two-bedroom unit was too good to be true. As he found a parking spot a block away, he understood why. Louie only had to look at Peter’s face to know he was thinking the same thing as he was: the block wasn’t so much “up and coming” as it was stalled and slowly decaying.
While the building had obviously undergone improvements, the surrounding ones hadn’t been so lucky. Many were unkempt, the front doors propped open and flagrantly flouting security. The metal balconies on its nearest neighbor were rusted and crammed with junk, and a police car was parked on the curb three doors down. Peter’s lips twitched in amusement as Louie tested the lock on the car twice.
A line of steely eyed pigeons roosted menacingly on the roof and watched their approach. After finding the superintendent, they were escorted to a corner unit on the fourth floor. The apartment itself was large and spacious, completely renovated, and painted recently enough for the smell to still be lingering. The windows had been opened to help air it out, but as Louie stopped to check out the view, all he got was a whiff of pot drifting in from next door. His jaw dropped as he watched two burly cops haul a guy in handcuffs out of the building down the block and into their cruiser.
“I’ve had a ton of interest in this place, so if you want it, you need to act fast,” the super said.
Peter coughed. It sounded suspiciously like “bullshit.”
“I’ll, uh, let you know,” Louie replied politely and beat a hasty retreat with Peter in tow.
“What? Don’t you want to leave a deposit?” Peter asked once they were back outside. Right on cue, the wail of sirens pierced the quiet. Peter immediately dissolved into giggles.
Louie gave him a friendly shove. “Shut up. I think I’ll pass, thank you.”
The next building they headed to was in a better neighborhood, but in need of an update. Speckles of black mold crawled up the corner tiles of the shower, and there were some questionable flecks on the kitchen counters and in the cupboards. He and Peter shared a look and wordlessly agreed to move on.
He had higher hopes for the third place on his list: the main floor of a suburban house, sandwiched between an upper unit and a lower one in the basement. It was a lot more space, but he’d be expected to take care of the front yard and shovel snow in winter too, and he didn’t think he was ready for that. It was also farther away from work.
It appeared as though his search was going to be as fruitless as it had been two weeks ago.
They took a break before heading to the final viewing. He had more than an hour to kill before the appointed time, so they stopped at a local bistro for a quick bite.
“I had no idea it would be so hard,” Peter mused as they took a seat.
“Bet the basement doesn’t seem so bad now, right?” Louie teased. Peter looked embarrassed.
As Louie perused the menu, he couldn’t help notice how Peter kept squirming in his chair and craning his neck to peer over his shoulder. “What are you looking at?” he finally asked.
“Checking out the place. I like the way the chairs are mismatched. And the tables too.”
Now Louie had to look. “I didn’t even notice.”
“It’s casual and homey. Makes it feel like you’re a guest at somebody’s house. I’d love to do something like that at the restaurant.”
“So do it.”
Peter shook his head. “Pop would never go for it.”
They were interrupted by the waiter, who took their order. Louie opted for a salad and Peter a burger. Once they were alone again, Louie returned to the conversation.
“Do you like working with your dad?”
Peter made a face he couldn’t quite interpret. “It’s complicated.”
“Most family stuff is.”
“True.” He took a breath. “When I was a kid, I used to love working there—it was the only time we spent together. I guess I thought that working side by side we’d grow closer, that I’d finally get to know the man.”
“And you’d earn his approval,” Louie added without thinking, his mind turned to the father he hadn’t seen in nearly three years.
Peter blinked in surprise. The look on his face said he’d guessed rightly.
“I do know a thing or two about family complications,” Louie said with a touch of sarcasm.
“Do you think it’s something you ever outgrow?”
“I doubt it.” He certainly hadn’t. He’d settled for this uneasy truce with his family, but deep down inside he missed them terribly. Missed the way things used to be. “Somewhere along the way, though, I decided if I couldn’t earn his respect, I needed to at least respect myself.” He laughed self-consciously. “That sounded awfully pretentious, didn’t it?”
“No. I’ve just never heard it put quite like that. You know, I still don’t think I really know my father. Or that he knows me.” Peter shook his head and stared down at his tableware. “Maybe it would be different if I had more authority. Sometimes I feel like I’m still just a busboy. Sometimes I think, ‘Is this it? Is this all there is?’”
Their food arrived, and Peter dug into his burger as if ashamed of his confession.
“So w
hat else would you like to do at the restaurant?” Louie asked in between bites of organic greens and kale.
“It doesn’t matter. Pop’s not too big on change. He still thinks as long as the food is decent and the prices low, he’ll get customers.”
“But you’ve got ideas. Come on. Tell me.”
“Well, it’s not like I want to change the character of the place,” Peter began hesitantly. “But I’d love to put a few more healthy options on the menu—something other than Greek salad—and some more home-style food. And expand the wine list beyond the two we’ve got.
“And the whole place needs a facelift. You’ve seen it—it’s no longer retro, it’s bordering on dive status. We can’t survive on the takeout business much longer, and we can’t compete with the other joints on the block anymore. There’s a half dozen others serving the same stuff. We probably would have closed long ago, but Pop owns the building.”
Louie smiled to himself as the words tumbled out of Peter in a rush. He’d clearly given this some thought. Louie didn’t know much about the restaurant business, but the ideas sounded solid to him. Although right now, with his eyes lit up and excitement written across his face, Peter could have convinced him of almost anything.
I could so fall for this guy, he thought. Now he understood what had drawn Demetra to Peter—that hint of vulnerability beneath the Greek machismo. “Why don’t you share all this with your dad?”
“Do you think I haven’t tried? Right after his heart attack when I went back to work there, I did up a whole business plan and everything.” Peter shook his head. “He didn’t want to hear it.”
“You could try again,” Louie suggested.
“It’ll never happen,” Peter finished. Just like that the life went out of him. The transformation was so quick it left Louie startled. It was like someone had flipped a switch.
“You don’t know that.”
Peter opened his mouth to argue, but apparently thought better of it. “What I do know is you’d better finish that totally unappealing salad or we’ll never find you an apartment.”
“THIS IS more like it,” Peter said admiringly as they circled the block for the third time searching for parking. Louie’s final appointment of the day was a sublet in a newer glass tower downtown. The owner was a friend of his new co-worker Tammy.
“It’s also at the top of my budget,” Louie replied, finally nabbing a spot in the limited visitor parking. “It’s a condo. The owner is relocating for work and wants to rent it out rather than sell it. She probably has a list of applicants a mile long.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky.”
“I could do with some luck about now.”
“Somehow I doubt you have a problem getting lucky,” Peter mumbled under his breath.
Louie blinked. Was Peter flirting with him? He suddenly grew flustered and couldn’t think of a snappy comeback. But when he locked the car, he thought he saw Peter grinning.
They buzzed in and took the elevator to the twentieth floor. The owner was waiting for them as they stepped off: a tiny, perky blonde with a pixie haircut. “Hi, Louie. I’m Sandra. It’s nice to meet you.”
Louie introduced Peter as Sandra ushered them into the unit. A small foyer opened onto one high-ceilinged room. There wasn’t a lot of space, but the open kitchen and exposed ductwork were loft-like. Directly in front of them, a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the expressway and beyond that, Lake Ontario.
“Wow,” Peter gasped, heading straight for the balcony. “Look at that view.”
Was the man crazy? It was a freeway. Who wanted to look at bumper-to-bumper cars?
“Go ahead and have a look,” Sandra urged. Peter slid open the patio doors and stepped out onto the narrow balcony.
Louie followed, overwhelmed by the hum of traffic soaring up twenty stories as soon as he set foot outside. “Yeah, great view.”
Peter said something that was immediately drowned out by the horn of a passing semitruck.
“What?” Louie shouted.
“Not that one. That one.” With a heavy hand, Peter turned Louie’s head to the right, showing him a sliver of downtown through two nearby towers.
“Oh, yeah. Not bad. But the noise….” Louie felt dizzy when he leaned over the railing and realized how far the drop was.
Toronto was so… frenetic. It was like being caught up in a tidal wave. Everyone was in their own bubble, eyes down, intent on getting somewhere fast, and if you didn’t keep up, you were run over. It was so different from the relaxed, laid-back vibe of the West Coast.
It hit him then.
This was really it. He was here. He was starting over. Alone.
Vancouver, his friends, Aaron—they were three thousand miles away.
A surge of sudden homesickness threatened to choke him. His eyes stung, and Louie was relieved to find himself alone on the balcony with no one to witness this brief meltdown.
“It’s a little noisy,” Sandra admitted when he ventured back inside a few minutes later. “But with the windows closed, you don’t hear any of it.”
“Hey, Louie, this kitchen is amazing.” Peter was ensconced behind the kitchen peninsula. He ran his hand lovingly over the granite countertops of the breakfast bar. “Stainless steel appliances. Look, a gas range. I could do some serious cooking on this.”
His grin of excitement was contagious, and Louie found himself warming to the place too. Did Peter even know he was acting as if he was the one moving in?
“So,” Sandra explained, “as I told you in my e-mail, it’s a one-bed, one-bath unit. There’s a pool downstairs, and I’ll show you the gym and the media room later if you’re interested. No parking, though.”
“I don’t have a car,” Louie said.
“Perfect, then. You won’t need it anyway if you work downtown. I’m looking for someone willing to sign a ten-month lease immediately.”
“Immediately?”
“Well, starting next month. Is that a problem?”
“No. Actually… that’s great. I’m just surprised you don’t have someone lined up.”
“Oh I did. She backed out at the last minute. Which is why I’m now freaking out. I leave in two weeks. It’s hard to find someone willing to sign a short-term lease. Most people want at least a year. When Tammy said she knew someone who was looking for a place, I was so relieved.”
“A wine fridge,” Peter exclaimed, still in the kitchen. “This place is awesome.”
Did Peter know nothing about apartment hunting? You weren’t supposed to let them know you were interested. Sandra dimpled. “You guys are too cute. I have such a good vibe about you.”
Oh, no. Did she think they were together? Before Louie could correct her, she began talking again. “This is a fun building. Lots of young professionals. And most people are pretty cool. You guys won’t have to worry about fitting in.” She turned away. “Come on, the bedroom’s through here.”
“Why would she worry about us fitting in?” Peter, who had finally emerged from the kitchen, whispered in his ear as they followed.
“She thinks we’re a couple, Peter.”
The look on his face was priceless: like he couldn’t decide whether to be shocked, amused, or flattered.
Louie grinned. He gave Peter a shove. “Don’t get all worked up. You should be so lucky.”
He felt a slight warmth in his face as he followed Sandra down a short hallway and into the sole bedroom. It was definitely a shoebox. “It’s a little tight in here,” he pointed out.
“All we need is a bed. And you like to cuddle, so a queen is fine.”
We? Cuddle? Louie whirled around, but Peter was already moving into the en suite bathroom. “Oh my God. Check out the size of the shower,” he exclaimed, voice echoing off the tile. “We’d both fit in here, Louie. And the tub has jets. This place is great, babe.”
Sandra made an “aw, isn’t that sweet” face, and Louie decided he had a pretend boyfriend to kill. “Excuse me a minute.”
He marched into the bathroom, ignoring the sleek gray tile and chrome fixtures. “Babe?” he hissed, poking Peter in the chest. “Really?”
“Do you like ‘honey’ better? Sweetie?”
Louie narrowed his eyes. The bastard was enjoying this, judging by his smirk.
“So, what do you think?” Sandra asked, poking her head through the door.
“We love it,” Peter replied without hesitation. “What about the furniture?”
“I’m taking some of it with me, but the rest can stay, or I’ll put it in storage if you don’t want it.”
Louie still wasn’t convinced. It was a lot of money, and with only the one bedroom, he wouldn’t even be able to have a roommate. “It’s at the top of my budget.”
“For the right tenant, I might be willing to negotiate. I need someone I can trust. Tammy likes you, and I trust her judgment.”
Tammy had known him a week, Louie wanted to point out. He wouldn’t put too much stock in her judgment.
“And to be honest,” Sandra continued, “I would feel better leasing to a couple than a single person.”
Peter’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, taking Louie by surprise. “Guess it’s a lucky day for all of us, then.”
SEVEN
“WHAT IS this?”
Peter stiffened at his father’s deep baritone. Last time he’d checked, his dad had a heart condition, not vision problems, which meant he wasn’t happy. “It’s our new sign,” Peter said patiently as Kosta joined him out in front of the restaurant. He’d hoped to have everything done before Pop got in, but the installers were still rerouting the lighting over the sign. “Doesn’t it look good?” He was particularly proud of the design—raw steel letters mounted on a background of weathered barn board. The effect was both rustic and modern. Perfect.
“I don’t like.”
Peter’s heart sank. Would he ever do anything right in his dad’s eyes?
“You pay money for this? I can make in garage. What was wrong with the old one?” Kosta’s white, bushy eyebrows drew together. He tilted back the peak of the black fisherman’s cap he wore. Even in the height of summer he wore that damned cap, his fringe of white hair poking out from beneath.
