Krewe Daddy

by Margie Church

  Drew got up from the table. "I'm not hungry. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

  * * * * *

  Sure, Drew's life was full of challenges, but Luis could see how he was progressing, overcoming the obstacles, a little at a time. Getting the cast off his arm, and being out of the wheelchair, boosted Drew's morale like crazy. The seizures came less frequently and were shorter. And every now and then, he remembered Luis' name. He ate in silence, hoping Drew would change his mind, and come back to the table. Tonight, he didn't feel like being the peacemaker. Drew picked the fight. He can apologize.

  When he finished eating, Luis placed his dishes in the sink. He couldn't avoid seeing the large calendar hanging on the corkboard in the kitchen. Loaded with appointments, this coming Saturday was circled in red. Kevin and Teak's wedding day.

  But last month, they'd postponed the ceremony until Valentine's Day in hopes that Drew could be there. Drew had been furious when Teak called with the news. He'd even tried to back out of his best man duties. Teak wouldn't hear of it.

  Leaning against the counter, Luis ruminated about what his life had become in the past weeks. Chaos came to mind. He was angry, frustrated, exhausted, worried, and overwhelmed most of the time. All of his energy and resources were devoted to Drew's needs.

  Realization and warmth filled him. He'd never been so selfless in his life.

  Tomorrow morning, he planned to make egg-in-the-hole for Drew, and remind him how far they'd both come.

  He had another idea. Now that his wheelchair days were over, Luis thought his surprise might really cheer him up.

  * * * * *

  A few hours later, Luis stepped back and examined his handiwork. The Christmas tree wasn't very big, but it shimmered with holiday spirit. Luis couldn't believe he'd managed to drag out the decorations and the tree without waking Drew.

  One advantage of all that medication is he sleeps like a rock. Luis snorted. Maybe one night I'll have to try some of those meds. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept through the night. And now, I'm pooped. He looked at the clock. 10:15 p.m. felt like 1:00 a.m.

  Luis inspected a few of the collectable, glass ornaments hanging from the tree's branches. He made a note to buy one of the beautiful snowflakes especially for Drew, so he'd feel a part of the holiday celebrations, too. It occurred to him that Drew probably had decorations, and might like more of his personal items from his apartment. Neither of them had been back there. The police wouldn't let Drew to go home, or anywhere except the hospital, until he was healthier. Oftentimes, when Drew's face was a mask of pain and frustration, Luis worried he might jump off the balcony just to escape what his life had become.

  Before he turned off the Christmas tree lights, Luis whispered his wish. "I hope seeing this tree tomorrow makes you smile."

  The living room went dark, and Luis went to bed.

  * * * * *

  A shout awakened Luis. Used to the drill, he flipped off the covers, slid into his slippers. On his way out, Luis grabbed a robe.

  Drew's anguished voice grew louder. "No, don't make it worse. Get me out. I can't breathe."

  Luis hustled down the hall. When he arrived, Drew was thrashing in his bed, engulfed in another nightmare.

  "Get them off me!" He sounded petrified.

  Luis rushed to his side, and took Drew's hand. For the umpteenth time since Drew moved in, Luis was thankful for bedrails.

  "I'm here. You're okay." He kept his voice calm, but firm.

  Drew began shaking.

  "Son of a bitch. No."

  Luis reached for the soft, plastic tongue depressor, and eased it into Drew's mouth to ensure he could breathe. When he was sure Drew's airway was clear, he rolled him onto his side.

  "I'm here, Drew. Hang in there." Luis repeated the phrases, while rubbing Drew's back and shoulder until the seizure ended.

  Panting afterward, Drew opened his eyes. His lips moved as though he wanted to say something, but he couldn't formulate the words. Confusion was very common for Drew after a seizure.

  "Take your time. That was a nasty one."

  Drew licked his lips. "Sandalio."

  Luis knew that name. The cops and the D.A. had said it a hundred times. "What about Sandalio?"

  "Old . . . man."

  He frowned. "I'm the Old Man."

  Drew looked exhausted, and kept licking his lips.

  "Are you thirsty? Do you want a sip of water?"

  He nodded.

  Lifting the pitcher they always kept by his bedside, Luis poured some water into a glass, and eased it against Drew's lips.

  "Okay, so what about Sandalio?"

  "Old . . . man . . . Sandalio." He sounded breathless. The combination of the nightmare and seizure seemed to have sapped all the strength from his voice, too.

  "Old man Sandalio." Luis thought for a moment. "The father? He was there?"

  Drew nodded before closing his eyes again. "Fourth man."

  "Old man Sandalio was the fourth man there that night." Luis couldn't believe his ears.

  "Yes. Told them . . . told them to beat me, but not . . . kill . . . me." Drew opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Luis' with ferocious pain. "Find him. He needs to pay."

  Luis couldn't speak. Drew had endured unfathomable agony at the bidding of Henrique Sandalio. "I'm going to get my phone to call the detectives."

  Luis ran like the building was on fire. He had to report this information before Drew forgot he'd even said it. He pressed call on his way back to Drew's bedroom.

  The night duty detective asked, "Is Drew there? I need to record this for the official record."

  Luis' heart sank. What if Drew has already forgotten? "Drew, the detective needs you to tell him what you remembered. They're going to record it. Can you do that?"

  "Yes."

  Luis handed him the phone.

  * * * * *

  "Sounds like you had a huge breakthrough tonight, Drew. Tell me what you remember. I'm recording our conversation." "Sandalio's father was there. Don't remember his first name. The old man. He told the other three what to do. He told them to beat me. Sandalio said not to kill me.

  He kicked me a few times, but the others used the baseball bat and their fists. Sandalio said was big payback for sending his son to jail again." Drew spoke haltingly, the aftereffects of the seizure clear.

  "You're sure it was Henrique Sandalio?"

  "Yes. The whole thing came back to me tonight. Do you have what you need to arrest him?"

  "Enough to get started, that's for sure. This is great."

  Drew handed the phone to Luis. "That's enough."

  He covered his face with his arm, and waited for Luis to finish the call. "Luis, you need to tell the District Attorney."

  "I suppose Sheila Parsons wouldn't want to hear about this through the grapevine tomorrow."

  "She'd be pissed." Drew listened to Luis place the call. Afterward, he said, "I suppose she's halfway to the police station already."

  Luis chuckled. "Do you blame her?"

  "No. Help me up, please."

  Luis helped Drew swing into a sitting position.

  "I gotta get out of here."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I had that nightmare again about being in the trunk. I need to see some sky. Will you help me to the couch?"

  "You're as weak as a kitten. How about I turn on some more lights, and you stay put instead? Plus, it's pitch black out."

  Drew shook his head. "I need some windows and some air. Please."

  Luis put an arm around Drew's waist, and helped him stand. "I'm not sure this is a good idea. That looked like a pretty rough seizure."

  "We were arguing when I went to bed. Do we have to start again?"

  "Come on."

  Drew leaned on Luis, grateful for his strength and his body heat. Every time he had one of those damn seizures, he was chilled to the bone.

  "I have a surprise for you. Can you wait here for a second?"

  "Do I have to?"

&
nbsp; "Well, no, but I think you'll like it. Lean against the wall. I'll be right back."

  The sensation of the cool wall against his bare arm sent shivers through Drew.

  "Hurry up. I'm freezing to death."

  Luis returned with a big smile on his face. "Okay, come on."

  They stepped into the living room.

  "Oh, cool, you put up the tree!"

  "Do you like it?"

  "Yeah, you know I'm a sucker for a nice Christmas tree."

  Luis helped Drew to the couch. "You can check it out tomorrow, but I wanted you to see it tonight. The lights are so pretty at night."

  Drew put his feet up. "I love all the snowflakes."

  "I've been collecting them for years." Luis covered him with a blanket.

  Drew raised an eyebrow and fingered the fabric. "Santa Claus?"

  Luis shrugged. "A boy can dream, can't he?"

  "Come cuddle with me." The request slipped out before Drew had a chance to think about it.

  "Are you sure?"

  Drew suspected Luis was afraid he would hurt him. "I won't break if you don't squeeze too hard."

  "Sit up. I'll hold you."

  After a bunch of careful maneuverings, Drew settled against Luis' barrel chest.

  "I'm sorry about dinner."

  "I know. You've sure held a string of pity parties lately."

  Drew knew he was right. "Yeah. My therapist says a little frustration is a good thing. It shows I want to get better, and I'm making progress."

  "Just not fast enough, huh?"

  "Right. And what I wouldn't give to go for a walk, or something as mundane as grocery shopping."

  Luis kissed Drew's temple. "I know. The breakthrough you had tonight, wow, seeing the fourth guy's face was huge."

  Drew nodded. "I hope it's enough. I know I'll have to testify against him, but maybe they can round up that group of thugs. If I can't have my life back, at least I can have some freedom."

  He glanced up at Luis. "What does your therapist say?"

  "I'm out of my mind—lock, stock, and barrel."

  Drew chuckled. "I take responsibility for that. Has it totally sucked having me here?"

  "No. It hasn't been easy, but you're making progress, and things like tonight, well, they just prove you're going to come out of this okay."

  "I don't know what I'm going to do with myself for the rest of my life." Drew had lain in bed for hours and hours over the past weeks, looking for answers to that question. He really didn't expect to be able to work as a Senior Agent ever again. "It'll be up to, what's his name, the one who's marrying my old boyfriend?"

  "Kevin?"

  "Yeah, it'll be up to him to decide whether I'm too beat up to model anymore, too." Luis held him a little tighter, and Drew felt him silently conveying his support.

  Drew bit his lip to keep from getting emotional.

  "Scars can be very sexy, too."

  "You should be in charge of PR in rehab. I'll make you a nametag. I'll call you Doctor Spin." Drew studied the twinkling Christmas lights. "What made you decide to put up the tree?"

  Luis laced his fingers in Drew's. "I wanted to see you smile."

  "You've done so much for me already. I'll never be able to repay you."

  "Get well. That's repayment enough. By the way, I wondered if you had some things from your apartment you'd like brought over. Maybe you'd feel more like this was your place, too."

  Drew gripped Luis a little tighter. "You're keeping me?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, in that case, I really miss my recliner. It's not leather, but I think it'll go with the rest of your stuff. I'm sure there are other things, but I can't think of anything else at the moment. Is my lease up?"

  "I honestly don't know, but I don't think you'll be going back there any time soon. Seems like a huge waste of money to keep paying rent on a place you can't live in."

  Drew understood the financial logic of what Luis said, but he felt more indebted to him than ever. "I can't live here for free. If I'm going to give up my apartment, then I have to pay you something."

  "Stop it. I make enough to cover everything."

  "I don't care. I meant what I said at dinner. You've given up everything ever since I got here. I insist on contributing. I have money coming in." Drew twisted around and looked at Luis. He spoke with utter conviction. "Don't emasculate me any more than I already have been."

  Luis cupped Drew's chin and kissed him.

  Their tender kiss lasted long enough for Drew to know Luis wasn't patronizing him. Hot tears prickled at the corners of his eyelids.

  "It was never my intention to make you feel that way. If contributing to the household budget makes you feel better, then we'll work out something."

  Drew's chest ached with gratitude. "Why are you so good to me?"

  "Isn't that what you do for people you love?"

  His declaration caught Drew by surprise. "What are you saying?"

  "Could it be any simpler? Clearer? I love you. I have for a very long time." Luis'

  voice sounded bedroom husky.

  Drew believed him. For the first time in their tumultuous relationship, he had no doubt.

  Luis broke the yawning silence. "This is where you say something like, I love you, too. Or, I just want to be friends, or, let's take it slow."

  "If we took it any slower, we'd be stopped." He cleared his throat. "I love you, too, Luis. I never thought I'd be saying that under these circumstances, but here we are."

  Luis crooked an eyebrow. "You're in my arms in front of the Christmas tree.

  What could be more perfect than that?"

  "Having hot sex right about now would make it a lot more perfect."

  Luis kissed him again. "I won't pressure you. My right hand says I can wait a little longer, until you're stronger."

  Drew gave him a humorless laugh, and examined Luis' right hand. "No calluses yet. Can't be that bad."

  "I'm too tired to think about my dick most of the time. But a few evenings like this will change things fast."

  Drew smiled at him. "I like the sound of that. I hope it won't be long. And for the record, I hate sleeping alone."

  "What do you suggest?"

  "Is that a serious question?"

  "Well, yes, sort of. I mean, I figure it means you want to sleep together, but my bed doesn't have rails. If you have—"

  "You'll be there to catch me."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Drew sat on the orthopedist's exam table and wiggled the toes on his left foot. "It feels so good to have a cast off."

  The doctor examined his handiwork on Drew's ankle. "I know it's been a long haul, but the X-rays look good." He manipulated Drew's ankle in a gentle, circular motion. "How does that feel?"

  "Sore, stiff. About like I expected."

  The orthopedist straightened up. "Let's get you standing to see how it looks and feels."

  Drew got off the table and placed his foot on the floor. It had been months since he'd done that. He was afraid to test it with his full weight. "What if it gives out?"

  "Stand on it. Everything is nicely healed."

  Drawing a deep breath, he did as the doctor asked. His left ankle didn't collapse.

  "Feels weird, but sturdy."

  "It's going to feel that way until you get the muscles strengthened." He looked Drew in the eye. "No jumping or running until I see you in February. Got that?"

  "Shouldn't be a challenge. The guy I live with doesn't have a basketball court in his place, and the police still have me almost on house arrest."

  "I'd have thought that situation would ease up a little now that the people who beat you are behind bars."

  "They're not permanently in jail yet. If the grand jury indicts them, I'll be able to stop looking over my shoulder every second." He asked a burning question. "Do you think I'll ever have full mobility again? I don't know if it's possible with my memory issues, but physically, do you think I could go back to my old job?"

  "
I've seen people with your type of leg injury have a permanent limp, shortened ligaments, and lingering pain. Your head injury works in your favor, at least in the near term."

  Drew frowned. "How so?"

  "You know you can't go back to work until your memory is solid, and the seizures under good control. That'll give your body more time to heal and get your strength back. You won't be raring to go prematurely and stress these bones." He rested his hand on Drew's shoulder. "I think you have a good chance of recovering most of your mobility in your ankle, and all the strength in your arm, if you do your exercises and don't push it. These bones were badly broken."

  Drew wanted to recoil from a renewed memory of the pain he'd endured when the baseball bat slammed against his body, over and over. "But they didn't win. I'm going to."

  He reached for the small bag he'd brought with him. "Now, I'm going to put on my left sock and shoe for the very first time, and walk out of here, more whole than I've been in months."

  "I'll see you in six weeks." Compassion filled the doctor's face, and he extended his hand. "Good luck."

  He shut the door behind him on his way out of the exam room.

  Pride in his accomplishment, mixed with his sorrow over what he'd endured, clouded Drew's vision with tears. He threaded the soft, white sock over his scarred ankle, then pulled on his shoe. Standing afterward, his foot ached a bit. He felt a little unsteady. Picking up his bag, he put a smile on his face and left the room.

  Excitement personified, Luis stood the second he saw Drew.

  With measured steps, Drew approached him.

  Seeming to read Drew's thoughts, Luis rushed to him and wrapped his strong arms around him in a mammoth, Daddy hug.

  Drew burst into tears. While he sobbed with grief and relief, Luis trembled, too.

  This day was a victory for both of them, he thought. While drying his tears with the back of his hand, Drew smiled. "Great day, huh?" Emotion fogged his voice.