by Kyle Baxter
At quitting time, he left the hospital like a bolt to pick up his son. Eric attended Stuyvesant, a charter school on the edge of the Quarter. The public schools in the city were good, but David hoped Stuy’s Montessori-styled classes with a mixture of ages would benefit Eric after their move from Chicago.
As he drove through the slushy streets, his phone dinged with an incoming call from an unknown number. He thumbed a button on his steering wheel to connect wirelessly.
“This is David Cooper. How may I help you?”
“David, this is Suzanne.”
He sucked air through his teeth. Of course it was. “Hey, what’s going on?” What else was coming at him today?
“I wanted to talk to you about the Christmas party and repeat my concerns about changing the venue.” Her voice was honeyed, and he couldn’t tell if she was angry or worried. He only knew her from the sporadic call. His mother hired her.
“I appreciate that, but I’m looking for a new space, now—I’m literally on the road.”
“But that venue worked perfect with my layout. I’d have to change it all for a new space.” Her voice was strained. This turn of events did not seem to sit well with her.
He slowed at the train tracks. Even the crossing arms had garland on them. Was that legal? “Suzanne, it’s a Christmas party. Your designs are nice but a little stark.” It needs to be Christmassy.
“Stark?”
He insulted her. Oops. “I’m sorry—”
She cut him off. “No, it’s fine. Let me know if you find anything.”
She hung up and he didn’t blame her. He stepped in it. Honesty might be the best policy, but it wasn’t always easy. Maybe he’d end up running the event after all—she didn’t sound happy. What else is going wrong today?
He pulled into the line of cars picking up students at Stuyvesant. The school was a renovated bank from the 1930s. Its exterior festively decorated for the approaching holidays, the trimmings were seasonal but generic. There was almost no religious imagery at all. The school had students of several faiths and sought to be respectful of all. It was a delicate balance.
Eric sat on a bench by himself as he often did, nose-deep in a book. Several children ran around throwing snowballs at each other, ignoring him.
With a twist in his gut, he wondered what he should do. Was Eric’s shyness something he’d grow out of? David wasn’t introverted as a kid, but he didn’t have his son’s challenges either.
The boy’s eyes brightened when he spotted his father. He jumped up and ran to the car. David put on a happy face as he climbed in the back seat. “How was school, buddy? Only two weeks left before Christmas break.”
“It was okay.” Eric buckled himself in and went immediately back to his book.
“Just okay? What’s the book?” He leaned back and double-checked the boy’s seat belt.
Eric grinned with pride. “Dinosaurs!”
“Cool,” he agreed. “Hey, what’s that?” There was a hole in the knee of his son’s khaki school uniform slacks.
“I fell.”
“Did you skin your knee? Did you go to the nurse?” He poked at the hole, trying to look in.
Eric yanked his leg away. “Daaaaad, it’s no big deal.”
“I’ll look at it when we get home, but you have to be careful. Okay?”
With a moan, he buried his head in the book. “Fine . . .”
They pulled away from the curb and onto the slick streets. Driving back into Midtown, David inspected each building, looking for somewhere to host the CYA party. Desperately he hoped something would leap out and solve this problem.
Now there was more pressure. Not only did he need to find a new venue, but now he feared he needed a new event coordinator, and time was running short. I need to get this right!
After a few minutes Eric closed his book and began mimicking him, surveying the surrounding neighborhoods. David laughed to himself.
“What’re we doing?” the boy asked finally.
He slowed the car as they approached an intersection. “Trying to find a place to hold the CYA Christmas party.”
“Isn’t it a little late for that?” Eric gave him a questioning look.
“Your grandmother said the same thing. She may be right—don’t ever tell her I said that.” He reached back and jabbed the boy in the stomach, making him giggle.
After half an hour, he gave up. “This isn’t happening.” They needed help and there was one person he knew for sure could pull off the party, even on a tight schedule. Alex. Not only did he work in catering, but David trusted his design sense. He turned the car back in the direction of the Old Quarter.
“Where to now?” Eric sat up, ready for an adventure.
“Capili’s,” David announced, getting an excited squeal from his son. No matter what, he was going to accomplish at least one thing today, but he needed backup. Asking for help was never his strong suit, but here they were. He pressed the phone icon on his steering wheel. “Call Mom.”
Chapter Nine
The Wings
In Capili’s Restaurant David found Alex sitting at a table by the bar in the cocktail lounge and working on his tablet. He waved at Bonnie as she detailed tables for the dinner shift.
“This is twice in one week.” Bonnie favored him with a quick peck on the cheek. “Coffee?” she asked as she moved to a new table and began polishing the flatware with a microfiber towel.
“No, thank you. I’m all coffee-d out.”
“I do not understand those words.” She stuck her nose in the air with a sniff.
Alex stood as he approached. David held out his hand, but Alex waved it off and sat down.
“You’re working?” David indicated the tablet as he sat.
“Yeah, it’s become my office of sorts.” Alex stretched his arms out wide, working out the kinks from sitting in one position for too long.
David couldn’t help but appreciate how well the shirt fit him. The scrawny kid he remembered from high school was long gone. He filled out and in all the right ways. He also took note of the color, another black shirt. Of course.
Alex closed his tablet and leaned forward. “Between you and me, I feel guilty hanging out upstairs. At least down here I can jump in and help during service, if they need me.”
“I still can’t believe they’re selling.” David took in the dining room, eyes settling on the large Christmas tree in the large picture window facing the street. “We loved this place.”
“It was a refuge after my mom passed.” Alex’s face clouded.
“That was a tough time. You grew up quick.”
Hazel eyes raised to him. “I was sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man.”
“We’ve both lost a lot.” David squirmed. That was the most he could say. Alex wasn’t here when his father died. It felt odd to hear him offer his sympathies. Maybe coming here was a mistake.
He shook it off, reminding himself he needed to think about the CYA. Concentrate on the task at hand, he told himself.
“Where is Mini Coop?” Alex asked with a tilt of his head.
“He’s outside.” David wondered if he read his face and was trying to change the subject. “We ran into your aunt and uncle in the parking lot. Okay, fair warning: my mom is coming. I told her about you saving him the other night.”
With a shake of his head, Alex sighed. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It was to me.”
Alex’s face flushed. “So, you’re a nurse now? How did that happen? I thought your intention was to follow your folks into law and politics?”
“After my brief hockey career, life took a little detour.” He braced for a disappointed response or smirk, but none came.
“I heard you got into the pros.” Alex smiled. “That’s amazing. You always loved the sport.”
“The reality was a little different from the dream.”
Alex pointed at his scrubs. “I like this. It suits you.”
With a grin, David adjus
ted the V-neck top. “Thank you. You’re in catering? Isn’t this your busy time of year?”
“It is. I’m telecommuting.” He gestured at his tablet.
David narrowed his eyes. “Are they okay with you being here?”
“Let’s just say they aren’t ecstatic about it.” He picked at a chip in the vinyl top of the cocktail table. “It’s fine.”
“And you go back after the first?” As the words fell out, David cursed himself. He kept asking the same thing over and over. Why did he keep doing that?
Alex’s eyes sparkled with amusement. He was smug, and it annoyed David. But before he could say anything, his mother walked in the front door with Eric and the elder Capilis. After Papa helped them with their coats, she came straight to the table.
“Alex Capili, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Tandi exclaimed.
Eric barreled over and gave Alex a hug. His mother shared a glance with him, noting the boy’s enthusiasm. Eric didn’t run back to his father to hide as per usual but hung by his friend’s side.
“Mrs. Cooper, it’s good to see you again.” Alex stood for a quick embrace.
Eric looked around, then tugged on Alex’s belt. “Where’d Mama Capili go?”
“Patience, please,” David warned.
After pulling a chair out so Tandi could join them, Alex bent down to Eric’s eye level. “She’s probably in the kitchen. You can go see her if you like.”
“Pinoy . . .” David glared at Alex. Not until I give him permission. Eric needed to check with him first.
“What’s Pinoy?” Eric asked, his eyes lit with interest.
“It’s a nickname for a Filipino boy.” David waved a hand in Alex’s direction.
Eric stared at Alex. “Filipino? But aren’t you Italian?”
David laughed. It was a common misunderstanding.
“No, my dad and Uncle Felix are—were—Filipino,” Alex said.
“Do you speak Filipino?” Eric asked.
“Tagalog. The language is Tagalog,” Alex explained. “I understand some, but growing up in a mixed household—my mom’s family is Armenian—we all just spoke English. It’s the same at the restaurant. Aunt Claire is Latina, and Uncle speaks Spanish too, so I learned some from them, but if anyone talks too fast, I get lost very quickly.”
“Tag-a—Tagalog and Spanish, but the restaurant is Italian . . .”
“Italian-American, but yes,” Alex agreed.
“Why isn’t the restaurant Fili—Filipino or Spanish?” Eric’s eyes narrowed.
“You ask a lot of questions,” Alex said. Eric only shrugged. “My uncle and aunt met working on a cruise ship. They fell in love with each other and with Italian food. But they do serve some Spanish and Filipino cuisine.”
Eric was quiet for a moment, then said, “It’s very confusing.”
Alex snickered. “That was how I grew up: very confused.”
“Dad, can I go see Mama Capili?” Eric looked wide-eyed to his father.
David held up a finger. “She’s working. Say hello and come right back. I want you to stay out of the way.”
Eric ran to the kitchen, grinning like a fiend.
“He’s trouble.” David slid down farther in his chair.
“Just like his father.” Tandi smirked.
“Me? I’m the nice guy. He was the pilyo.” David pointed at Alex, emphasizing the Tagalog word for “rascal” he often heard Felix Capili use to refer to his nephew.
Tandi eyed them. “You two are thick as thieves. I’m so glad you’re back.” She placed a hand over Alex’s.
“He’s not staying, Mom,” David cautioned.
“Why not? What does New York City have that we don’t? Did he ask you yet?”
David held a hand up. “Mom, please don’t.” He didn’t have a chance to lay the groundwork yet, and here she came full guns a’blazing, like always. He wanted a more graceful segue into this. Asking favors of anyone bothered him, and this was a lot.
“Ask me what?” Alex gave him a sharp eye.
Tandi put her game face on and placed her hands on the table. “The event planner we hired for the CYA Christmas party is not working out. We need help.”
“What is the CYA?” He looked from one to the other.
“Cooper Youth Association. It’s a charity for at-risk LGBTQ kids,” David said excitedly. “It directs families to the appropriate resources, and we operate a locally staffed, twenty-four-hour crisis line.”
Tandi launched into her pitch. “We’re small but hoping to grow. This party is a thank-you to our staff and volunteers, but it’s also an introduction to prospective donors we’ve invited—local movers and shakers. We need this to go well. Without funding, we won’t survive.”
David recognized the expression on Alex’s face. His friend was intrigued and turning it over in his mind.
Alex tapped his fingers against his lips. “You need someone to step in who has experience.”
Tandi nodded. “Exactly. Most of the work is done, but we need a captain at the wheel to steer us into port.”
“Nice metaphor.” Alex gave her a wink.
“Thank you. It’s nice to have someone around who appreciates wordplay.” Her eyes flashed.
David gaped at her. “I appreciate your wit.” That made Alex choke out a laugh, and David protested. “I do.”
“Oh, please.” Tandi turned back to Alex. “I understand you work with a caterer in New York?”
“I do, it’s Five Points Catering, on the Lower East Side.”
David saw a pained expression on his face. “He’s busy here, Mom.”
She swiveled to him. “He won’t be doing it alone. Between the two of you, I’m sure you can manage.”
Alex coughed. “The two of us?”
Mama walked up holding a plate with Eric in tow. Alex offered her his seat, but she ignored him.
“I hope it’s okay, but I have gingerbread cookies for you boys.”
“It’s fine.” David gave his son an eyebrow raise. “Only one. We don’t want to spoil dinner.”
Eric sat the plate on the table and stood beside his father. “I got to watch the pastry chef roll out the dough and they let me help press out the shapes for the gingerbread men.”
“That’s great, buddy.”
“He was a doll.” Mama pushed his hair off his forehead.
Eric lay his head on his father’s shoulder. “I want to be a baker.”
“Last week he wanted to be a fireman,” David said.
The boy walked to Alex with a gingerbread man. “Want a cookie?”
“Thank you.” Alex took a cookie and crunched it happily. “I think you’ll make a great baker.” David stuck his tongue out and Alex gave him a defiant smirk. “Very mature.”
“It’s good to see you, Claire. I’m sorry I don’t come by more.” Tandi offered her a quick embrace.
“Always a pleasure,” Mama said.
Alex looked at both of them. “You know each other?”
Both women laughed, and Tandi said, “I know most of the business owners in town. David’s father and I used to come here when you boys were in high school.”
“You did?” David and Alex asked together. After sliding another chair over, Alex gestured to Mama. This time, she gave in and sat.
“We wanted to see where you were spending all your time—when you weren’t at the movie theater, that is.”
“Okay, Mom.” David didn’t want too deep of an examination of his childhood. His mother had a tendency to snag the most embarrassing anecdote and recount it.
“Movie theater?” Eric chimed in.
Mama took his hand in hers. “Alex had a job at the old movie theater over on Main Street and your father would hang out there with him.”
“We really liked movies,” Alex said.
With a familiarity David found astonishing, his mother reached across the table and took Mama’s hand. When had they become friends?
“Claire, I’m trying to get David to talk Alex
into helping with the CYA Christmas party,” Tandi said.
“Oh, you should, Mijo.” Mama turned to Alex. “They do good work.”
Alex gave a half-shrug. “I’m not a Christmas person . . .”
His friend’s gaze didn’t meet his, but David’s stomach dropped anyway. Their last Christmas together didn’t end well. Intentional or not, the comment landed like a slap.
“But I’ll do it,” Alex finished.
“Are you sure?” The words exploded out of David, making everyone turn to him. “I hate asking this of you, on vacation.”
“You always do this,” Alex admonished. “I said I’d do it.”
“We don’t want to inconvenience you.” He winced at his own tone. Why did he sound so harsh?
“I’m doing it,” Alex said through gritted teeth.
“I don’t know. You have a lot going on.”
“You’re exhausting.” Alex ran a hand through his mop of wavy hair.
David folded his arms across his chest. “Well, now I don’t want your help.”
“Too fucking bad. I’m doing it.” Alex tapped a finger on the table.
“Watch your language.”
Alex had an amazed look on his face. “You don’t get to reprimand me.”
Mama gave Alex a pinch, making him yelp. “Watch your language, Alejandro,” she scolded. Eric squawked in laughter.
Alex moaned, rubbing his side. “That hurt—but I’m still doing it.”
“You’re not going to run off and leave us in the lurch, are you? We can’t have that.” Again, the words fell out of David’s mouth before he could stop them. Why did he say that? Dredging up old wounds was not productive.
“Coop, where is this coming from?” Alex asked.
The question irritated him, but he kept his voice flat. “It’s pretty simple.”
“You’re a pain in the ass,” Alex said, then yelped again. “Stop pinching me, Aunt Claire!”
Eric decided to get in a pinch as well, making Alex jump from his chair.
“No more pinching. I’m running the damn—the darn party, but no more pinching, Aunt Claire, Mini Coop.” Alex pointed an accusing finger at each in turn. The mood in the room teetered on tense but fell into laughter as a smile broke over his mouth.
David was glad of it. For a moment he feared they were going to have a big argument. What got into him?
