A Thousand Tombs (5 page)

In the majority of San Francisco neighborhoods the houses stood shoulder-to-shoulder, and sometimes even shared a common wall. There were few yards, and entry doors often opened right onto the sidewalk, or close to it.

Piedmont Pines was different.

That’s why Mack and Jimmy picked a place in Oakland, long before a collection of the city’s residents decided it was time to migrate across the bridge.

The brothers owned the only place on the street that was built front and center on a double lot. That meant Mack had over an acre of land, and it was flat and usable. And nice. Except for the weeds in back. He kept the front yard trimmed, but there was seldom time to manicure the forest behind the house.

Gen tried to fix herself up as much as possible before she drove out, so the eye wouldn’t seem so awful. Her thick brunette hair was clean and brushed her shoulders in a long, sleek bob. Her bangs were brushed to the side. She donned straight-leg jeans and a body-hugging cotton sweater with the sleeves pushed up, and topped it all off with gold hoop earrings, mascara, and a brush of lip gloss. She wasn’t a small girl but she was in damn good shape, thanks to the fact that she walked every day.

Of course, dating Mack had upped her game.

Despite the crime that plagued East Bay, he’d told her the front door was never locked when he was home. She let herself in, then checked the living room. Empty. She went back to the kitchen and found him marinating steaks.

Mack’s lips curved when she came into the room. She had no idea if his good humor had to do with the bruising, or the fact that she was there.

She sat at the table and waited for the teasing to start, but all he did was put down his beer and walk over to lean over her chair and inspect her face. Then he kissed her, very carefully.

“I feel bad, getting you into that.”

“You weren’t the one who threw the punch.”

He went to the freezer and grabbed a bag of vegetables, wrapped it in a towel, and handed it to her.

Déjà vu all over again.

“Where’s Luca?”

“Pulling weeds.”

She snickered. “Right.”

“No lie.”

“What, did you assign him chores already?”

“I didn’t need to. He ate breakfast and found some tools in the shed and started on his own. I didn’t say a word. I made him a tuna sandwich and called him in for lunch, but he went right back out again when he was done. I’ve just stayed out of the way and kept us both supplied with water and snacks all day. That’s it.”

Mack planted a half-assed garden every year in honor of his brother. He’d told her that Jimmy said a man had to have home-grown corn to grill, and Mack made sure it happened. He just never got around to beating back everything that came up with it.

“I have to see this.”

Gen held the ice pack in place and went to the window. And there was Luca, sitting in the waist-high meadow that was the garden. Mid-September made it late in the season and most of the corn stalks were spent. He’d yanked those out, leaving behind a handful of fat, ripe cobs that were begging to be stripped and barbequed. He wore a ratty old pair of gloves and was hunkered in a cluster of tomato plants, pulling at the weedy tufts with both hands.

Half the plot was clean.

Stella was out there, too, lying on her side in the grass inside the garden fence. A neon yellow tennis ball lay a foot away, and she looked satisfied and happy to have the company. Roly Poly, the stray cat that had showed up on Mack’s back porch the spring before last, was curled up on the other side of the dog.

Mack came to stand beside her. “I like that boy.” He snaked an arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze, then pecked her unbruised cheek.

“I’ve seen everything now,” Gen said. “I thought teenagers were a bunch of hermitty online gamers and couch potatoes.”

“Not all of them.”

“Look at that scene out there, Mack. I’m starting to get the picture. All three of them showed up in need and you took them in. Is that what happened with me, too?” She glanced aside in time to see his mouth quirk.

“I don’t think of you as an adopted daughter, if that makes you feel any better,” he replied. “But everything comes into your life for a reason.”

Gen waited for more, but he didn’t add to it. She wondered about the reason for their meeting, other than the obvious. She liked him – a lot – and she was definitely lusting after his body.

“I’m working on a project in the garage,” he said. “Why don’t you take that ice and go relax on the sofa for a while? Order a movie from Netflix. How about
Under the Tuscan Sun
? An Italian chick flick. Perfect choice for everything that’s going on. Which I want to hear about, by the way, but I need to finish something up first.”

“I want to come with you.”

“Best thing for that shiner is to rest and keep cold on it for half an hour.”

“I can do that while I see what you’re working on.”

He shrugged and led the way outside. When they passed the garden, Gen lowered the cold pack and raised her free hand in greeting and Luca returned it. He did a double-take when he saw the eye, but he didn’t comment or get up. Not much of a talker, that one. Stella rose to her feet and shook, dislodging bits of grass, then lumbered over to welcome her.

Mack pushed open the door to the detached garage and flicked a switch on the wall. Overhead, banks of fluorescent light bars lit up the space. The walls were finished with gypsum board, then hung with spans of perforated Masonite that held individual tools hooked in position. There was space between each tool, and the outline of what belonged where was rendered in pencil behind it.

It was the first time Gen had been in his work room. She was impressed. Everything had its place, and there was no doubt exactly where that was. Maybe she shouldn’t let him see her closet yet; he’d be appalled at her own lack of organizational skill.

A sturdy table anchored the near half of the room, and atop it sat an unfinished metal figure. A welding torch and tools were at the ready.

Okay, news flash.

Mack was a metal sculptor.

“Here I am, an open book,” Gen said, “but every time I turn around, I learn something new about you.”

“I told you Jimmy taught me to weld,” he replied. “I started to dabble in stuff like this a while back.”

Gen dropped the vegies on a countertop, then went to admire Mack’s work-in-progress up close. “I’d say you’re beyond dabbling. Those pieces in the house are yours?”

“Yes.”

“They’re beautiful, Mack. You’re really good.” She turned around and fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m betting you sell your stuff. That’s how you knew Damien Fleur, am I right? You’re deeper into the art clique than you’ve let on.”

Damien Fleur was a well-known San Francisco painter. She and Mack had run into one another at a gallery show he’d held last June. Mack was with his previous girlfriend at the time, and the sight of them together definitely sparked the green-eyed monster in Gen.

“It never came up, Genny.”

Sure it did. Mack just wasn’t one to toot his own horn. “So tell me now,” she said.

“I sell a few pieces. I like doing the work, and it helps put a little money aside.” He handed her the ice pack and pointed at her mug.

That was all she was going to get out of him for now.

Gen pressed the bag to her face, then moved away to amble around the room. The garage was composed of two bays. The first was his metal-working studio. The second, where she stood now, housed a car that was cloaked in a canvas cover. Only the wheels were visible.

Mack walked up behind her. “Jimmy’s favorite thing in the world.”

“What is it?”

He flipped the material back to reveal the hood of a shiny, cherry-red sedan. “1969 Camaro.” His voice was husky, almost reverent. He brushed an invisible fleck of dust from the windshield, then cut his eyes to her. “We’ll take it out for a drive sometime, if you want.”

She nodded. “I’d love that.”

He flicked the cover in place and walked away, leaving Gen to wonder what else he hadn’t shared with her yet. Like much of his past, Mack kept the things he cared about shrouded from view.

* * *

Two hours later Mack fired up his big-boy grill, and Luca took that as a sign to quit. He rose from the last patch of weeds in the far corner of the garden and headed for the shower.

Gen left the window and went out onto the wide back porch and ran her fingers down Mack’s arm. “What’s your plan?”

“Rib-eyes and grilled zucchini and corn on the cob.”

“Want me to slice the squash?”

“Sure. How’s the eye?”

“It smarts.”

He tried not to laugh. “I bet it does.”

“Like I said earlier, a good belt of whiskey would help, but I’ll settle for a glass of wine.”

“Pick whatever you want. I’ll join you and we can cut up the grilling stuff and wait for the coals.”

They were sipping and slicing when Luca came back into the room. His hair was wet and slicked back and he was wearing a pair of clean Levis and one of Mack’s faded t-shirts.

“Hey you,” Gen said.

“Hey,” the kid replied. “I hope you didn’t get that because of me.”

“Nah. I got it because I’m not very clever. Where’d you learn your way around a garden?”

“My grandfather. My Mom’s Dad. He could grow anything. I spent a lot of time with him when I was a kid. Before we moved to Jersey.”

“He’s Italian?” Mack asked.

Luca nodded.

“I bet you miss your Grandpa,” Mack said.

Luca nodded again. When he turned to Gen and changed the subject, she figured he didn’t want to go into it. “So how’d you get the eye?”

“I was dumb,” Gen replied. “I found the house, and I found the man in it. His name is Vincenzo Vitelli. He was tied up and I was stupid and got smacked because I didn’t check around to see if anybody stayed behind to keep an eye on him. So the argument you saw last night must have escalated.”

“Tied up?” Luca’s frown deepened.

“Duct taped to a chair. He’s fine, though.”

“Damn.” Luca looked away. “That’s a bummer.” His eyes swung back to her and he licked his lips. “I’m sorry I got you messed up in this. I should have just kept quiet about the coin.”

“Forget about it. It wasn’t your doing. Turns out Vitelli’s an importer of less-than-perfect reputation.” Gen pulled a juice glass from a shelf and poured a shot of wine into it, then handed it to the boy. “To the man who tamed Mackenzie Hackett’s wilderness,” she said, and raised her glass. “Cheers.”

Their glasses clinked together.

It turned out Mack grilled the best steak she’d ever eaten, and the home-grown vegetables he’d brushed with butter and grilled alongside them were the icing on the cake.

Luca stood with the cook and watched, asking questions about how long the meat should stay on one side before he flipped it, and how to know when the vegies were done. Mack gave him the tongs and showed him when to turn the corn and how to test for doneness.

After dinner Luca tried to slip into his room, but Mack wasn’t going for it. “Come on, don’t go in there and hide. We’re just going to chill and watch a flick.”

He didn’t ask which movie, just came out with his hands in his pockets and slouched into a chair. Mack spread an old comforter on the floor in front of the big screen and piled extra blankets on top, then tossed down a half dozen pillows. “Try that,” he said. “Best seat in the house.”

Luca stretched out. Five minutes later, he reached for the pillows and pulled a blanket over him and made himself comfortable. “What are we going to watch?” he asked.

“
Under the Tuscan Sun
,” Mack replied. Gen knew he was teasing, but the kid stayed quiet.

“Don’t tell me you’re okay with that,” she finally said.

“My Mom taught me when you’re a guest in somebody’s house, you don’t complain.”

Mack and Gen burst out laughing. “Mack was just kidding,” she said. “He’s more of a
Terminator
type of guy. Or
Alien
. How about you?”

Luca tipped his head back and looked at them upside down. “I like old movies, myself.”

“You mean like Gregory Peck?” Gen asked.

“Especially in
To Catch a Thief
,” Luca replied.

Mack raised his eyebrows. “Want to watch it again?”

“Sure.”

So they did.

* * *

Luca was sound asleep long before the movie was over. Gen and Mack were spread out on the couch with their heads at opposite ends. When the credits rolled, Gen got up and went into the bedroom, then brushed her teeth in the attached bath and went back out to kiss Mack goodnight.

He’d already nudged Luca awake and shooed him off to bed and was spreading a sheet and the comforter over the sofa. “You got everything you need?” he asked.