Apparently, I was no better at it than I"d ever been. “This is Shawn. Shawn, Ken.” I suppose I might be considered clumsy at the best of times, socially. I"d been called a well-meaning clod with a pathological need to be the center of attention by experts.
Shawn smiled his amazing smile. He was handsome and vibrant, and he took my hand in his and pulled me along slowly, making allowances for Ken. He took us right up to Cooper, inside Nacho"s Bar, as though he were a bird dog bringing a kill back to its master. He presented us, beaming, and both spoke and signed, “Look what I found.” Cooper"s playing faltered, something I"d rarely, if ever, seen, and next thing I knew, he shoved his instrument into Shawn"s large hands and threw his arms around me, clutching at me hard, nearly cutting off my air supply. I could hear him breathe in, and I wondered, because I was trying to do the same, if I smelled as much like home to him as he did to me.
“Damn, Jordie,” he whispered in my ear. “Missed you.” 58
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“Me too,” I told him. We broke apart, and I knew I wasn"t the only one feeling a little overwhelmed by my emotions. “This is my friend Ken.”
“Hi.” Cooper held out his hand, and Ken shook it, his crutch dangling from his forearm as he did so. “I"ve seen you around here, haven"t I?”
“Maybe. I"ve lived here all my life. Except when I went away to school.”
“Are you back home for good now?” Cooper asked him.
Shawn looked on; I didn"t know how much he was getting of the conversation, but I"d noticed when we"d first met that he always seemed to enjoy simply looking at Cooper.
“Yeah, well. I think so.” Ken looked at me. “Maybe not entirely for
good
.” I felt the blood heat my face, and Cooper looked amused. “I"m going to play another couple of songs, and then it"s going to get too loud here to talk. Let"s go to Shawn"s and my place, where we can all catch up.” He signed something to Shawn, and Shawn nodded and signed something back.
Cooper took his instrument back from Shawn and began to play, this time a lighthearted Irish fiddle tune, and something happy bubbled up inside me. Shawn came up beside me and asked me if I wanted iced tea and I nodded, and he said something to Ken then, who nodded as well. Soon he took off, and Ken and I were left alone. Ken pushed me toward an empty table on the patio, where we could still hear Cooper play.
The air was moist with fog and smelled like the ocean. I was going to love that about living in Santo Ignacio. Everywhere you went, everything smelled like the sea. It even got onto your clothes and hair, and you felt it through your skin to your bones.
Shawn came by with three iced teas, and he had no sooner placed them on our table than he went and got me an ashtray.
I pushed the ashtray away and shook my head. “I quit,” I said. Shawn raised his eyebrows. He had such an expressive face that I couldn"t help but watch and wait for the next thing to skitter over it.
“Good for you,” he told me sincerely.
“You smoked?” Ken asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. I was completely and unrepentantly polluted back in the day.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I felt his eyes on me, so I studied my tea, using my straw to push a piece of lemon around. “Now I"m so clean, I squeak.”
“Do you?” He grinned. I felt my cheeks heat. I couldn"t decide if I liked this new, flirtatious Ken. “I would like to test that out.” I tried not to laugh, but it got the best of me.
Shawn looked from one of us to the other. “How long have you been in town?” he asked.
I held up two fingers. “Two days.”
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Shawn didn"t react to that. “It"s good to see you. You look healthy.” I nodded. We sat sipping our tea and listened to Cooper play. Ken remarked more than once that Cooper was amazing. I had to agree. He"d gotten better since the last time I"d heard him practice in the apartment we"d shared in River Falls. We fought that day—all my fault, as usual—and I pulled a stunt I wasn"t proud of and ended up first in the hospital and then back in rehab. Not because I"d used, which always made people I knew from Hazelden laugh. But I"d lied to myself and everyone around me and found a number of creative ways to self-destruct with behavior that was toxic and counterproductive—continued to “act out” as my counselor put it—and pretty much hurt everyone who ever cared about me.
Seeing old friends was good, unless you had been a total shit-heel when you"d seen them last. I had that embarrassed feeling I get when people talk about old times, and I realized Shawn was probably aware of every mistake I had ever made.
Shawn reached over then and placed his hand on mine. I met his eyes and found nothing but friendship and compassion.
My face threatened to crumple a little, but I hid it by taking a sip of tea. I heard Cooper finish a piece with a tremendously complicated ending, adding that dash of arrogance—the result of being a child prodigy. Ken"s eyes met mine.
Cooper came in moments later with the violin case I recognized as the same battered one he"d always carried. We had probably been about eleven when he"d received his first full-size violin. Since then, he"d changed instruments twice, I think, but he still used the same battered rectangular case, modified at one point to be strapped to his back when he rode his bike. It was covered in the scraped-up remains of rock-band stickers. He saw me smiling at it.
“Time flies,” he said, hugging me hard. “Follow us home, and we can catch up a little.” He looked up at Ken. “If it"s okay with your friend.” Ken seemed curious. His face was pleasant but otherwise unreadable. We finished our tea and walked to the boardwalk with Cooper and Shawn, who held hands. I knew they slowed down for Ken"s sake. I was conscious of him beside me and admitted to myself that I would have liked to hold his hand or put my arm around him, but his crutches made that not only difficult but also maybe even a little dangerous.
We reached a little side street between Nacho"s and the pier and turned away from the beach toward the entrance of a small apartment building with a courtyard on the ground floor, and eight apartments that I could see, four up and four down, surrounding it. We went up some cracked cement stairs to one of the doors, painted red with 2C in gold letters screwed onto it.
“This is ours,” Cooper said. He watched as Shawn took out a key and unlocked the door, flipping lights on as we entered. It was a tiny apartment, light and beachy. It had a soft sofa with a muted tropical print and wicker tables and side chairs. Cooper must have caught the look on my face, because he laughed. “It came furnished.” 60
Z. A. Maxfield
Shawn took off his jacket and hung it in the closet. I removed mine. Ken wasn"t wearing one, and I wondered if he just found it too complicated putting a jacket on and taking it off, although with all those muscles he probably didn"t suffer in the cold.
“So,” said Cooper, motioning me to the sofa. “Can I get you anything to drink?” I looked at Ken, and he shook his head. “Nothing for us, thanks,” I told him. I felt awkward now, away from the chaos of the bar. “You go ahead, though.”
“I"ll grab some waters,” Cooper said, signing to Shawn. I couldn"t get over how self-assured his signing had become. When I"d seen him last, he was just beginning to learn. At the time I"d discouraged it. I"d been peevish and jealous. Now it shamed me.
When they had their waters, they sat in one chair, Cooper on Shawn"s lap. It looked so natural I thought maybe they sat that way a lot. “So, how long are you in town for?”
I hoped my answer wouldn"t be an unpleasant surprise. “I…indefinitely. I plan to live here,” I told them. Cooper signed this for Shawn, and thank fuck he smiled as though he was genuinely pleased. “I got a job at the gym. Day-Use Ex Machina.” I flushed. No matter how many times I said that, I felt like an idiot.
“Izzie"s place?” Cooper asked. I nodded. “Small world. What do you do there?” I told him I did therapeutic massage and personal training. Even to my own ears it sounded dumb, and I think he had trouble signing it for Shawn. “I got my bachelor"s degree,” I told him. “Then I came to San Francisco and got a massage therapy license and a personal training certification. I got a job as an assistant to physical therapists.
I"ve spent a year or so doing massage for people with sports injuries. I help keep their muscles resilient, put them through their paces. It"s actually kind of cool. My clients included a couple of players from the Oakland A"s.”
“Yeah?” Cooper asked. “Real baseball players?”
“Yeah.” I noticed Ken flinch. “I"m helping Izzie out in the gym, and I"m taking massage clients. She gave me the numbers of local doctors, and if I don"t find enough business here in town, I"ll check into surrounding towns. I"ll make time for you anytime, though.”
“That sounds great,” Shawn said, after reading Cooper"s signed translation. He gave Cooper a gentle poke in the ribs. “That"s what you can get me for Christmas.”
“I can also bring the table here,” I said. Cooper was looking at me, and I couldn"t read him. I wondered if after everything we"d been through he"d believe I had changed.
Whether he could ever trust me again. I wondered if he was thinking of all the times I"d messed up, of all the times I"d let him down.
I was sitting in his living room talking about a new life and a different career, an actual career this time, not just a job, and I wondered if he was waiting for the first sign that I was going to let everything go to hell again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ken roll his shoulders, and without even thinking about it, I pushed him a little to get him onto the floor between my legs where I could work on his muscles.
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Cooper was watching, and Shawn smiled. “Have you found someplace to live yet?” Shawn asked.
Ken spoke up. “Jordan will be moving in with me.” I frowned a little. “I haven"t said yes.” I pushed my thumb along the sternocleidomastoid muscles on both sides of his neck, ironing out his tension. Walking with crutches really did a number on the human body.
He groaned a little and smiled. “Did I mention how cheap rent could be if you did this all the time?”
I gave him a little extra thumb when he said that. “I pay my own way.” He winced, reached up, and brought my mouth down on his. When I managed to break his hold on me, he looked completely innocent. I glanced up to find both Shawn and Cooper looking at us with unreadable faces.
“What?”
“You"re such a turd. You should have called.” Cooper signed something to Shawn, who nodded. “I had no idea you were in the Bay Area. We"d have come to see you.”
“I"m here now,” I told them, although I was looking down at Ken as I used my elbow on the place where his shoulder met his neck. I couldn"t tell whether he was falling asleep or passing out from the pain. “Are you okay?”
“Fuck yeah,” Ken said, and even though he said it, he didn"t look like he was okay at all. His eyes were closing, and I thought he might be dozing off.
“Since my ride is falling asleep here, I think it"s time for us to leave.”
“All right. You know where to find us.” He and Shawn rose from the chair. “We can reach you at the gym, right?”
“Yep, I"m there. But I"m staying at the SeaView Motel.” I watched Ken right himself without helping, which I knew he might resent in front of Shawn and Cooper.
Ken said, “For now.” I ignored him.
“I do couples massage.” I knew if Cooper told Shawn that, I"d be seeing him sooner rather than later. Cooper gripped me in a strong hug. I returned it, once again feeling the history between us. Cooper was home for me. More than my own family, more than the town we grew up in. Cooper was home for me, and always would be. He gave me one of his rare, genuine smiles, and I hugged Shawn and left.
As we walked back along the boardwalk, Ken seemed pensive. “You love him,” he finally said.
“Yes. I love him.” It was the honest truth. “He saved my life. I"ll never be able to repay him enough—”
“You
love
him,” Ken said again, and I let out the breath I was holding.
“Ken, I know I love him. I"ve admitted I love him.” I stopped him from walking away, so he would look at me while I was talking to him. “In order to tell you about it, 62
Z. A. Maxfield
I"ll have to explain everything, and I don"t want to go into that now. I"m tired and hungry. Aren"t you hungry?”
“Now that you mention it.” He nodded. “We could get something. Takeout, maybe. Go to your place.”
“You never give up, do you?”
He grinned at me and bit his lip. “A positive attitude is all part of being a winner.” When he said it, he affected an accent that made it sound like “weener.”
“What?” I wondered if I"d heard correctly.
“When I was a kid one of my Little League coaches was from the Dominican Republic. I used to love when he gave a pep talk. „Everybody wants to be a weener.
When you are a weener, you can write your own teecket." After a while, I realized he did some of it, the weener part, on purpose because our whining made him crazy.” I looked at my watch and found it was ten o"clock. “What"s open to eat around here this late?”
“Ah.” Ken gave me a mysterious smile. “If you ask anybody in town, they"ll tell you, if you don"t want fast food, there"s only one place to eat in St. Nacho"s after ten.”
“And that is?”
“A closely guarded secret, unless you"re inviting me home.” He waited.
I contemplated him for a minute. His blue eyes glittered in the light of the Nacho"s sign, and he gave me that slow, lazy smile that could stop my heart. I saw the way the muscles of his arms bunched as he put his weight on his crutches. I had firsthand knowledge of exactly how those muscles would feel beneath my hands. Hell yes, I was inviting him in. What the fuck? Did I have
stupid
written on my forehead?
Well, shit.
Right
. I probably did.
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Chapter Ten
I wrapped my hands around what was—arguably—the best mu shu vegetable, pancake-wrapped Chinese burrito I"d ever had, getting comfortable, and sat cross-legged on my motel room bed when it hit me. I"d probably never been this relaxed, this comfortable, with anyone except Cooper, ever.