by Kenna Knight
I reach out and slide the list of Graham’s employees to the edge of my desk, and find Zoe’s name. I scratch out her phone number and look for Gloria’s. When I find it, I dial and wait for the onslaught of insults I’m about to receive from the woman in Graham’s life. It was more than obvious yesterday that she didn’t like me, but this is work, and I need Zoe’s number.
“Hello?” she says in her heavy Spanish accent when she answers.
“Hello, Ms. Garcia? This is Detective Yale with the San Francisco Police Department.”
“Oh yes, hello, Detective. It’s wonderful to hear from you. Graham tells me you’re devoting a lot of time to his case. I’m glad our police department has at least one dedicated employee on their payroll.”
Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I thought for sure I was in for an unpleasant bitch fest. “Yes, well I’m doing everything I can.”
“What can I help you with today?”
“Graham says Zoe Mahoney’s phone number has changed and you have the correct one?”
“Yes, I do, it’s right here.” She rambles off the number before I can grab a pen. She must be the organized half of the couple. “Did you get that?” she asks.
“Yeah, got it, thanks. I won’t keep you any longer. I know you’re busier than usual today.”
“Oh, well yes. Tease is not a quiet place that’s for sure. Hey, before I let you go, I have a question to ask.”
“What’s that?”
“We are having an employee barbeque this weekend, and everyone will be there with their families. I was wondering if you’d like to come and bring a date if you want. I just thought it would be a good opportunity for you to see us in a relaxed atmosphere instead of those impersonal phone interviews.”
“Oh, I don’t want to impose.”
“Aye, you wouldn’t be. Our motto is ‘the more, the merrier.’ We would love to have you. It’s going to be at Graham’s house, 922 Beechtree Lane, noon on Saturday. Oh, and bring a dessert. It’s a potluck, and we never have enough desserts. I’ve got a client, gotta go, see you Saturday,” she singsongs before she hands up.
Shit, she didn’t give me time to get a word in edgewise and decline. I can’t go to a barbeque at Graham’s house, no way. That will only make things worse for me. My poor brain is already consumed with thoughts of him. Seeing Graham in a social setting is asking for heartache. And I don’t do heartache. Not anymore.
Chapter Four
Graham
“You did what?” I say raising my voice more than I meant to.
“I invited him to the barbeque. What? He’s a nice, handsome man, and on the off chance he’s not gay, Mami’s cookie needs some nookie.”
“You’re what needs some, huh?”
“You know what I’m saying, lover boy. I’m pretty sure he’s gay, but if not, I’m going to teach him how to shake my maracas.”
“Who taught you to talk that way?”
“What? Cookies and nookie? Shoot, honey, that ain’t shit. You have a chair between Ari and little Selena and see what all you learn.”
“Remind me to switch up station assignments next week. I liked my Gloria sweet and untarnished.”
She breaks out into a huge smile and bends over with her hands on her knees belly laughing at me. When she straightens up, she points her long, perfectly manicured finger at my chest. “You’re a funny man,” she says in her heavy accent and turns to walk away shaking her head mumbling under her breath, “Sweet and untarnished.”
I can’t believe she asked him to the company barbeque. And even more unbelievable is that she thinks he might not be gay. If he’s straight, my gaydar is damaged beyond repair. But if she were right, it would sure make things easier for me. No more daydreaming about him whispering dirty things in my ear in his sexy British accent. No more thoughts of us holding hands while we walk down the beach on our first date or kissing under the stars. And no more fantasies about undressing him and taking him up against every surface imaginable in my house.
Is it possible to fall for someone you’ve only met once by way of fantasies? If it is, I’ve fallen hard for that sexy British detective.
I have to stop thinking about him like that. There’s no sense wishing for something I can’t have, and I can’t have a cop for a boyfriend.
Damn Gloria and her meddling. If the party wasn’t going to be at my house, I’d feign illness and skip out. No, that’s not true, I couldn’t do that to my friends. I love them, and this annual summer barbeque is how I show them how much I love them. Without them, I would be nothing. I’ve gathered twenty-three of the best stylists in the business to work for me, and making sure they feel appreciated is imperative.
There’s no way out of it now. I’m going to have to suck it up and be a gracious, yet scarce, host on Saturday. Unless he doesn’t show up, and that is a possibility after all, especially if he has a look into my past and finds out I have a record.
It would hurt to have him know the truth about me, but it would also solve my problem. There’s nothing to do now but wait. This is going to be a long-ass week.
Chapter Five
Levi
“She invited you to a barbeque at his house? The same one who was a bitch to you yesterday?”
“That’s the one.”
“What’s her deal, is she bipolar or something?”
I chuckle. Nicky is every bit as protective of me as Gloria is of Graham. “I think she was just trying to watch out for her man. She’s frustrated about the case, nothing’s happening, and they keep getting robbed. I’d be pissed, too.”
“So what’s with the about-face?”
“Maybe she sees me taking the case seriously, and she’s grateful? I don’t know. It was a little weird, though.”
“Are you going?”
“I shouldn’t. It doesn’t look good for a detective hanging out with a victim and the people I’m investigating.”
“But…”
“But what?”
“But you like him, that’s what.”
“Yeah, but he’s got a girlfriend, remember? Straight. Not interested.”
“Levi, have you ever heard of making friends? It’s when someone invites you out to a bar or over to their house for a party, and you learn things about each other. If you have stuff in common, voila, you’re friends!” she says throwing her hands up.
“Shut up. I have friends.”
She sits down on the couch tucking her long, willowy legs under her while she takes a sip of tea. When she’s finished, she tilts her head to the side and gives me a skeptical look. “You need more than just work friends. Expand your horizons, explore different people.”
“I like my people.”
“You have two friends, Tony and me. That’s sad. Go to the party, have some fun. Stop worrying about what will or won’t happen with this Graham guy and be social. Who knows, you might meet somebody else.”
I don’t say anything. She’s right. I should make more friends, but putting myself out there for others to judge and pick apart isn’t easy. I’d rather just stay warm and safe in my two-friend cocoon.
“You want me to go with you? I’ll go if it helps. I don’t have anything going on this weekend anyway.” Normally, I wouldn’t even entertain the thought, but Nicky can be annoyingly persistent, and I feel one of her soap-box campaigns coming on. If I don’t agree to take her with me, she’s going to lecture me on the benefits of friendship all day long.
“Okay, I’ll go if you’ll go with me.”
“Great, what time does it start?”
“She said to be there Saturday at noon, but I’m sure it doesn’t matter, it’s a barbeque.”
“No, no, you can’t show up late when it’s your first time hanging out with new people. The first rule of friendship, be on time.”
“There are rules?”
“Yep, I’ll teach you as we go along. What are you wearing?”
I sit down opposite her on the couch and pull my leg up, so we are facing
each other. “I don’t know, shorts and a t-shirt. It’s a barbeque, and nobody’s going to care what I’m wearing.”
She rolls her eyes and sighs. “First impressions are important. I’ll pick your clothes.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.”
She gives me a smug smile and raises her chin. “You’re welcome.”
I love this woman. Nicky is like a mother to me, and a big sister, and best friend. She’s only two years older than me, but she’s been there for me since our days in the orphanage in London.
It was Nicky who encouraged me to apply to the police academy. It was Nicky who encouraged me to come out of the closet and be proud of who I am. And it was Nicky who saved me from the streets of London when I aged out of the orphanage and had nowhere to go. I owe this woman a lot.
I owe her my life.
Chapter Six
Graham
Saturday mornings at my house are usually my favorite day of the week. It’s the day I can sit by the pool and drink my coffee with no interruptions. This is not that kind of Saturday. I have at least ten people dashing here and there setting up tables, preparing food, firing up the grill, setting up the dance floor, the bar, and the photo booth. Clowns will be here in an hour with a bouncy house for the kids, and the band is due any minute. It’s chaos, but we only do it once a year, and I love it.
Our summer barbeque is like Christmas, and I’m Santa Claus. I give everyone a gift, and we have a raffle with a huge grand prize. We eat, dance, drink, everybody passes out and spends the night so we can do breakfast together Sunday morning. When the adults are all sober and able to drive, they pack up their families and head out. Then a week later, we start planning ways to outdo ourselves next year.
It’s hands down my favorite weekend of the year, and I hope it’s theirs, too.
“Mr. Blackwell, where would you like us to set up the bar?” one of the caterers asks.
“Outside by the pool on the north side of the patio near the grill, please.” I point toward the back of the house, but I’m met with a blank stare. “Let me show you.” I lead him through the maze that is my house until we reach the huge wrought iron patio doors that are propped open. “Over there.”
He looks where I’m pointing and then back into the house. “Can we go around the outside of the house?”
“Yeah, sure. The gate’s open just make sure you shut it. I don’t want my dogs getting out. I don’t have time to chase them all over the neighborhood.”
His eyes light up, “Oh sure, sure, I’ll make sure it’s closed. Where are your dogs?”
“Oh, they could be anywhere, hard telling,” I tease. They’re safely behind the doors of my bedroom, but he doesn’t need to know that. There are a lot of strangers in my house today. I know it’s not nice, but I want to keep them on edge. You never know who could be a thief. I never used to think this way, but after the salon was robbed multiple times, I’ve become more cautious.
“Are they dangerous?”
“Only when they bite,” I say with a straight face, and the kid blanches white. “I’m kidding, they don’t bite, man. I’m just messing with ya.”
He laughs nervously and backs away from me through the door. I was only partially kidding, they do bite sometimes but only when they sense fear. Klondike is a Border Collie who tries to herd everything and everyone. He doesn’t bite unless you aren’t going where he wants you to go, then he might nip at your fingers or your butt. Sherman is a German Shepherd. Sherman the German, I call him. He used to bite me when we wrestled when he was a pup, but those days are long gone. Now the only thing he bites is Klondike’s tail when he tries to herd poor Sherman.
“Oh my God, there you are!” Gloria says bustling onto the patio.
“Yes, here I am, on my patio in my backyard. Where else would I be today?”
“I’ve been trying to call you all morning. The band played in Vegas last night, and their flight was delayed. They won’t be here until at least five o’clock.”
It’s unfortunate information but not devastating. “But they will make it, just later?”
“Yes, that’s what they said.” Her face is twisted with concern. She knows how much it means to me that this day is perfect. That’s why she’s in charge of organizing it every year. If it were up to me, we would be eating hot dogs made in the microwave and mixing up Kool-Aid. I am the worst at planning anything, making appointments, keeping a calendar, paying bills on time—all the important things that real adults do.
I can do two things well—run a hair salon and walk down a runway looking pretty—that’s it. And it just so happens that I love doing both. Gloria handles the rest.
“It’ll be fine. We can stream music until they get here.”
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I reach out and pull her into a side hug. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” She pats my hard stomach with her hand.
“You’ve been working out more, yes?” she says poking at my abs.
“No, but I started surfing again with a guy down the street.”
“A guy, huh? You got a boyfriend you’re not tellin’ me about, boo boo?” she asks, her accent becoming more pronounced when she teases me.
“Shush, don’t let anybody hear you call me that, it’s embarrassing.” Gloria started calling me boo boo forever ago after we went through a horrifying haunted house one Halloween. She thought it was beyond hilarious that I screamed like a girl the whole way through it.
“Well? Do you? Is that really why you didn’t want me inviting the hot detective today?”
“No, of course not. Greg and I are friends, that’s all. And you know exactly why I didn’t want you inviting Levi today so stop looking for other reasons.”
“Your reasons are estúpido.”
“They are not.” She steps out of my embrace and crosses her arms over her chest sticking her nose in the air. This is Gloria’s way of saying she doesn’t agree. “Come on, let’s go make sure the bozos bringing the bar in don’t put it in the wrong place.” I know she won’t be able to resist the urge to micromanage a couple of guys hauling a bar around the yard. She was born to lead.
She drops her arms and takes off around to the side of the house. Before I know it, I hear her telling them to tilt the bar this way and stop, stop, you’re going to scrape the fence! I love that woman’s spunk.
I make my way to my bedroom to shower and clean up before people start arriving. When I open the door, two very irritated dogs are sitting patiently right inside the door watching and waiting for me to return. I look at Sherman, and he yawns, and I swear Klondike would tap his foot impatiently if he knew how. “Hey, guys, what’s up? You hear all the commotion out there, don’t cha?” Sherman lies down closing his eyes ignoring me like a cat. Klondike wiggles trying to hold back his excitement. I can tell he wants to hold a grudge for being locked in the bedroom all morning, but the canine in him won’t allow it. He breaks free of his self-imposed attention strike and runs to my feet where he stands up on his back feet begging for a scratch behind the ears.
“I knew you couldn’t hold out.” I scratch his head, and he drops down when he’s had enough. “You’ll thank me later when little kids are sneaking you hot dogs and chips.”
I lock my door, so no one accidentally wanders into my room. I shower and change into a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee and a black t-shirt with skull and crossbones on the front. I don’t bother with shoes. I’m not leaving the house for the rest of the weekend, and half my time will be spent in the pool.
When I go back into the house, things are quieter, and everything is in place. Gloria is lounging by the pool waiting for everyone to arrive with a fancy tropical drink in her hand wearing a tiny, hot pink bikini.
“Well, look at you, sexy señorita,” I say with a long low whistle.
“You’re not looking too shabby yourself. Love the bare feet. Come have a drink with me.”
“It’s not even noon yet. I think I’ll wait.”
&nbs
p; She frowns at me and narrows her eyes. “You’re trying to keep a sober head, so you don’t do anything stupid in front of the hot cop, aren’t you?”
I drop down into the chair next to hers. “Shut up about the cop, he’s not even gay. And do not call him the hot cop if he shows up.” I point my long, tattooed finger at her face.
“When he shows up, you mean. And I won’t call him hot cop unless he’s straight and single, which he’s not.”
“Okay, maybe I do need a drink,” I say getting up and walking behind the bar to fix myself a strong martini. Just one won’t hurt, and it will make Gloria more tolerable.
When my glass is full, I toss the whole thing back in one swallow so the effects will hit me all at once. I can feel Gloria watching and worrying about me.
“I’m sorry, I won’t tease you anymore about the hot cop. Don’t drink like that, please. I don’t want to be the reason you fall in the pool and drown.”
Gloria is the only person in my life who knows what I used to be like and seeing me abuse alcohol bothers her. It was never my favorite vice. Back in the day, my drug of choice was cocaine. I did anything, but if I had a choice, it was coke. I loved the rush, the burn, the chemical taste running down the back of my throat from my sinuses. It made me feel invincible until it didn’t. The more I did, the more I needed, and the more I needed, the more horrible things I did to get it.
And then there was the rollercoaster of cocaine to go up, up, up, and heroine to bring me down, down, down. I’m surprised I lived through those years. It’s a miracle, or as Gloria would say, “Es un milagro.”
“I’m fine, and you are not responsible for what I do, I am.” Something I learned in rehab—always take responsibility for your actions, even when they are stupid as fuck.
I hear voices coming from the house. People are arriving. “I’m going to go see who’s here,” I say walking past Gloria. She pokes me with her toe as I pass. “Te qiero mucho, amigo.”
“Te quiero mucho.” I smile reassuring her that I’m good because I do love her a lot. I always will.
