Nick took a deep breath, reigning in dozens of accusations, and managing to calmly ask, “Did ya ever think of confronting him?”
Logan’s head snapped back to Nick, and his eyes blazed cobalt fire. “Of course I did. As soon as I got back from the hospital, I cornered my brother and told him if he didn’t turn himself in, I was gonna do it for him.”
“But—you didn’t,” Nick said.
“Nope. Because of Daisy, my sister.” The passion gone from his voice, Logan explained woodenly, “She said if I turned my own flesh and blood in to the cops, she’d disown me for good.”
“What about your parents—”
“They were both dead by then, killed in a car accident the year before. Daisy was raising both me and Jim all by herself.”
Raw pain bled from Logan’s broken voice, inciting Nick to reach out and pull him into a protective embrace. “Those bastards,” he fumed. “How could they do that to you?”
Logan seemed to accept the comfort for a minute before he whispered into Nick’s chest, “Maybe they did it… ’cause they knew.”
“Knew what?”
The answer was barely audible. “I’ve always thought that maybe Jim had guessed… that I liked… him.”
“Jerry?” When Logan nodded, Nick pondered for a second before confirming, “You mean you were attracted to him?”
Logan pulled back, silently considering the question before saying, “I think so. I didn’t know it for what it was at the time, but lookin’ back… I think maybe… maybe I was.”
“So fucking what,” Nick raged. “I bet your brother didn’t even know. How could he if you weren’t even aware of it?” When Logan only shrugged in reply, Nick said, “And even if he had some inkling, you think that makes it your fault, not his?”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t Jim’s fault, just that if Jerry hadn’t gotten mixed up with me… none of that would’ve happened to him.”
“Logan, put the blame where it belongs, on your brother and his friend. And yeah, to some extent, your sister.” Nick whispered, “Come ’ere,” and pulled him down until they were once again spooned on the bed.
Nick let the skin-to-skin contact soothe them both, thinking they were done with the subject, until Logan quietly said, “I never told anyone else any of that before.”
“Not even Linda?”
“No.”
For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was their synchronized breathing; Nick spent the time contemplating whether or not Logan’s revelation required a response from him. When he heard a soft snore, he knew they really were done talking—for the time being. His mind occupied with thoughts of fate, guilt, and confessions, Nick stayed awake while Logan napped.
FULLY DRESSED and freshly showered, Nick stood over the bed and jostled it deliberately. Logan cracked open first one eye and then the other before saying, “You want somethin’, Nick?”
“Yeah, I wanta know if you’re gettin’ up.”
Logan rolled over and stretched, saying, “I doubt it. Not after comin’ twice not more ’an…” he grabbed his watch and finished, “a hour ago.” While Nick enjoyed a laugh, Logan asked, “What’s your hurry? You got somewhere else you gotta be?”
“Well, if I’m not mistaken, I saw some of the T-bird’s parts in the back of your truck, and I figured we got some work to do. Seein’ as it’s almost four, I think we’d better get to the garage. Soon.”
“Shit,” Logan exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “I almost forgot about that. Just give me a sec.”
“You always like this after sex?”
As he disappeared into the bathroom, Logan tossed over his shoulder, “No. I ain’t.”
Rather than ponder that statement for long, Nick yelled through the closed door, “You hungry?”
Logan popped his head out of the bathroom, a towel around his neck. “Now that you mention it, I could eat a horse.”
“There’s a pretty good takeout place down the street. I could pick us up some burgers and meet you at Acken’s. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.”
Nick headed for the door, asking, “Want beer or pop?”
A frown appeared on Logan’s face. He leaned against the doorframe and started sternly, “No beer—” He seemed to catch himself and amended, “No beer for me when I’m workin’. Pop is fine.”
Nick reflected briefly before answering evenly, “Yeah, I can see that. Pop for me, too.” He moved to leave but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, Nick resolved to follow through on a decision he’d made while Logan slept. Turning back to the room’s interior, he looked at Logan and said, “Listen, thanks for tellin’ me that, about your brother. Couldn’t’ve been easy.”
Logan nodded and tugged on the towel around his neck before mumbling, “Thanks for listening.” He gave Nick a crooked smile. “And for not bein’… put off by my crazy family.”
“No problem.” Positive he’d heard some uncertainty in that last statement, Nick rolled his eyes, adding, “Besides, I got the market cornered there.” He slipped out of the door after promising, “See ya in a bit.”
Double Days Famous Hamburgers was surprisingly packed for a Sunday afternoon, and it took Nick twenty-five minutes to make it to the head of the line. Consequently, Logan handily beat him to the shop and was already unloading parts when Nick got to Arlington Avenue. He swung the loaded bag of food over his arm and helped Logan get the parts up to the shop.
Nick tossed a burger to Logan, asking, “So what’re we gonna do today?”
“We gotta get the crankshaft, rods, and pistons ready for final assembly.”
Nick saw that Logan had some parts laid out on the newspaper-covered workbench. “Got quite a bit done last week, huh?”
Logan shrugged the praise off and opened his burger, protesting, “I just cleaned the crankshaft and pistons real good and left ’em to dry. There’s a lot more to do this week. We gotta get off all the burrs and scratches from the connectin’ rods and pistons.”
“Okay.” After swallowing a huge bite of his burger, Nick asked, “We use the sandpaper for that?”
Logan took a swig of his coke before answering. “That or a deburring knife.” After setting the bottle down, he displayed the tool in question. “Then we gotta go over ever’thin’ with the Scotch Brite.”
They fell into an easy rhythm with Logan performing the initial work on each part before turning the final polishing over to Nick. He was squinting down the length of one piston, checking for scratches, when Logan said, “Forgot to ask before, how’s your mom?”
Nick winced at the subject, admitting, “Not great. She’s got a feeding tube in now.”
“Shit.” Nick heard a soft thud that must have been Logan putting a part on the bench. He looked over to find Logan staring at him with concern. “When’d that happen?”
Showing far less distress than he felt, Nick answered, “Friday. It’s not as bad as it sounds. The doctor says it’s only temporary, so she doesn’t lose more weight. But… it’s still rough seein’ her like that.” Before Logan could ask any more questions, Nick changed the subject by asking, “How was the weekend with your girls?”
“It was… good.”
Sure that the truth of the matter was contained in that pause, Nick prodded, “But…?”
Logan picked the piston up again and went back to sanding, explaining, “They were kinda… let’s just say they were a little harder to deal with than before.”
“Weekend visitation with you is a change; they could just be adjusting to that.” Nick almost left the subject in that comfortable place, but feeling an impulse to give Logan the whole truth, he added, “Or it could be that some of their anger is finally coming out.”
Braced for an outburst, Nick was surprised when Logan just nodded sadly and said, “Yeah. Trudy warned me about that.”
“Good.”
His voice took on an edge as Logan retorted, “Sure, she found time to do that after makin’ me sign that
goddamn no violence contract.”
“That’s pretty standard with her for joint counseling.”
“Why? Like I’m gonna haul off an’ hit Linda right in her office?” Logan objected. He held out a piston to Nick while adding, “It’s stupid—and insulting.”
Instinctively, Nick snapped to his boss’s defense, grabbing the part while insisting, “Trudy knows what she’s doin’, Logan.”
“Yeah, then why’s she tryin’ so hard to get me and Linda back—” Logan bit down on the rest of his objection.
He needn’t have bothered, since Nick heard the rest anyway. Unintentionally using his counselor voice, Nick asked, “You don’t want to get back with Linda, do you?”
Nick had to strain to catch Logan’s soft reply. “No.”
“Then don’t. Tell the truth.”
Logan started on a connecting rod with unnecessary vigor while snarling, “I thought you didn’t wanta let Trudy know about us.”
“Fuck!” Nick put the piston down on the workbench and threw up his hands. “I didn’t realize a homosexual affair was the only grounds for divorce in the state of Pennsylvania. Just tell ’em both the marriage wasn’t workin’ for you and you want out. Which is the truth.”
“You think it’s that easy, huh?” Logan hurled a spent piece of sandpaper at the trash can while insisting, “You don’t understand. What would I tell my girls? You think it would be easy tellin’ ’em I won’t be comin’ home—ever?”
Taking a minute to absorb that objection, Nick finally offered, “Easier than explainin’ why you broke your promise.”
Hand suspended halfway to the pack of sandpaper, Logan whirled to face Nick. “What promise?”
“The one where you said you’d do your best to make sure you never hurt Linda again. Remember that?” The only answer Nick got was Logan taking up a fresh piece of sandpaper and going back to work. He stepped over and touched Logan on the arm, saying, “Just think about it, okay?”
Logan didn’t look up from the rod but sighed, “It’s harder than you can imagine.”
Nodding at Logan’s bent head, Nick admitted, “I guess it is.”
By silent accord, they let all serious discussion lapse and talked about nothing but the car and the Steelers’ prospects for a repeat championship while they worked. Ninety minutes later, they stood at the shop door together, looking over their handiwork with tired but pleased expressions. Nick asked Logan, “They gonna have the rest of the parts ready by next week?”
“They should.” Logan shuffled his feet nervously and reseated his baseball cap before saying, “So… we ain’t gonna get together again…’til then?” He squinted over at Nick, clarifying. “Next Sunday, I mean.”
Nick felt a smile splitting his face in half. “We don’t have to wait. You busy Tuesday night?”
“Nope.” Logan smiled back just as wide, adding, “Your turn to get the room.”
Nick nodded and ran a hand over his mouth. Suddenly he said, “Hey, why don’t you come to my place instead?” The look on Logan’s face told Nick his offer had surprised both of them.
Recovering quickly, Logan agreed, “Sure. Uh, where is it?”
“Observatory Hill.” Nick found a piece of paper on Dave’s desk and scrawled out directions before he could change his mind. He tucked the paper into Logan’s shirt pocket after collecting a dazzling, two-minute-long, breath-stealing kiss as a reward.
On the drive home, he had to contend with a voice in his head asking what the hell he was up to. His answer, “Big deal, I’m havin’ a friend over to my house—high time,” didn’t fool Nick or quiet the voice.
Chapter 12:
Always Something More to Say
The truth is always a compound of two half-truths, and you never reach it, because there is always something more to say.
—Tom Stoppard
THOUGH IT was still early on Monday morning, Nick muttered his tenth salty oath of the day, cursing Microsoft, Bill Gates, and computers in general. He was frantically trying to finish his budget report, and Excel was definitely not cooperating. The quarterly budgets had actually been due the previous week, but Nick hadn’t gotten around to preparing his. He rationalized his tardiness with the thought that technically it was still September, so he wasn’t really late. He was rooting around in the top drawer of his desk, looking for some receipts, when the phone rang. Nick didn’t bother to look up, just grabbed the receiver and put it to his ear. His greeting, a curt “Nick Zales,” put his irritation on full display, not that he cared at the moment.
“Well, good morning to you, too.” Trudy Gerard’s voice was split between amusement and admonishment.
“Sorry, Trudy. What can I do for you?”
“You can tell me why your butt isn’t in my office as of ten minutes ago.”
Nick’s eyes snapped to the clock display in the corner of his computer screen. Fuck! How did it get so late? Though he’d gotten in two hours early, Nick’s plan to get his budget done before his meeting with Trudy was now in shambles. “Sorry, I lost track of the time; I’ll be there in a minute.” In an effort to stop his morning from getting any worse, Nick diligently saved his spreadsheet before leaving his office. Whatever paltry progress he’d made on his budget report, it was better than starting from scratch.
On the way to Trudy’s office, Nick grabbed a fresh cup of coffee, sure he’d need the caffeine jolt to get through the meeting. He found out how right he was ten minutes later. After a brief chat about his mom’s situation, Trudy started grilling Nick about his late budget report. “Janice says your department expense accruals aren’t in yet. What’s the problem there?”
Since he was feeling that he’d already worn out the word “sorry” that morning, Nick explained, “I’m afraid I didn’t make it a priority last week, but I’ve been working on it all morning and I’ll turn it in before I go home today.” Immediately, Nick started wondering how he was going to keep that promise, since he had a full day of sessions and a four p.m. meeting with his mom’s doctor.
Trudy peered sternly over her reading glasses as she reproved, “It’s not like you to be late, Nick; Janice said she sent you two reminders. She does need a full week to get the site report together.”
“I know,” Nick acknowledged tiredly. He sipped his bitter black coffee, silently hoping Trudy was done with her lecture. Fortunately his boss did turn her attention to his clients, and things went smoothly for a while. Nick was able to relate two pieces of good news about Cheryl. “She and the kids will be moving to Steubenville to live with her great aunt in a couple of weeks. And I’ve found a continuing education grant for her. It’s aimed at disadvantaged, adult students. I think she’s a shoo-in. And Cheryl is all over it—she has most of her paperwork done. I think she could start taking classes in the winter.”
“That’s great,” Trudy enthused, her warm smile appearing briefly. “How much tuition will the grant cover?”
Nick consulted Cheryl’s file before answering. “It should cover about two courses per semester. That’s really as much as she should take on with working full time anyway.”
“And what about her sessions with you?”
“We’re going to cut back to twice a month.”
Some sardonic observation was coming—Trudy’s quirked eyebrow convinced Nick of that. He was not disappointed. “Good. That should give you more time to spend with Sheila Palmer.”
A resigned sigh escaped from Nick before he said, “You heard.”
“I usually hear when a client runs out of here crying. What happened?”
“Sheila was all excited that her husband voluntarily entered anger-management therapy. I had to explain that he doesn’t have an anger problem, he has an abuse problem.” Aggravation sharpened each word as he continued. “I also had to tell her that if she went back to him, the abusive behavior would undoubtedly return within a month.”
Trudy studied Nick intently before suggesting calmly, “That wasn’t very diplomatic.”
&n
bsp; “She doesn’t need diplomacy, Trudy. She was already talking about giving Dean another chance. She needs the truth,” Nick snapped.
“Maybe she needs both.” Nick was struggling to control his temper when Trudy observed, “You can usually manage both.”
“What the hel—” Nick caught his rising anger and amended more quietly, “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re under a lot of stress right now, and I’m worried about you. Knowing you—and I do—that bleak report you gave me on your mom isn’t even the worst of it.” Nick wasn’t about to congratulate Trudy on her powers of perception, so he stubbornly remained silent. His boss leaned forward and fixed her shrewd eyes on him; Nick had a moment to appreciate the true concern he saw there before Trudy asked, “Are you sure you don’t need a leave of absence?”
“Jesus, Trudy!” Nick huffed. “One late budget and an over-emotional client, and all of a sudden I’m not fit to do my job?”
Trudy shook her head sadly, but her voice was crisp as she retorted, “I didn’t say you weren’t fit, and you know it. I said you’re obviously stressed, and you look worn out. I’m offering you the option of some FMLA time until your mom is out of the woods, so dial down the outrage.”
With more confidence than he actually felt, Nick answered firmly, “Things are a little rough right now, I admit it, but I don’t need FMLA. I can deal with the stress.” The thought of the stress relief he had planned for Tuesday night enabled Nick to give Trudy a sincere smile. “But thanks, I appreciate the concern.”
Apparently his firm assurance and convincing smile mollified Trudy enough that she dropped the subject of a leave of absence. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“How about we cut this meeting short so I can work on my overdue budget?” Nick asked.
Trudy pushed her chair back and waved her hand at the open door. “Done.”
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 116
