Belonging (7 page)

After a pause he said quietly, “It’s
really nice of you to let me spend the night here, especially since
you barely know me.”

“So, now we’re getting to know each
other. I’ve been wondering, where did my grandmother find
you?”

“At the LGBT community center. She
volunteers there on Wednesdays, and that’s when I go in for my
support group.”

“What kind of support group?” I asked,
then immediately amended, “No, never mind. It’s none of my
business.”

“It’s totally fine to ask, and you
already know this about me anyway. The group is for people who were
disowned by their families when they came out.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,
Jessie.”

“It’s alright. I’m coping.” He smiled
at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

After a pause I asked, “What does my
grandmother do at the center?”

“She’s like, the unofficial goodwill
ambassador,” Jessie told me. “She visits with people, brings
cookies, tends to the library, pretty much does whatever needs
doing.”

“That sounds like Nana. Out of
curiosity, did you actually have any experience driving a limo
before you got this job?”

“No, but I can drive anything. I’m a
really good mechanic, too. I probably shouldn’t tell you this
because I get the impression you already have some concerns about
me, but I’m a street racer. That doesn’t mean I’m going to start
taking the limo and your grandmother out to the drag strip or
anything. I just mention it because I want you to know I can handle
myself behind the wheel.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “If that
was meant to instill confidence, it had the exact opposite
effect.”

“It shouldn’t. I can drive the hell
out of anything. Racing is about remaining calm and in control
under pressure. Those are good attributes in a
chauffeur.”

“It’s also about driving really
fucking fast.”

“No worries there. The limo tops out
around seventy-five.” He grinned and added, “Nana and I tested
it.”

“Awesome.”

“I love your grandmother, Gianni. I’d
never do anything that would cause her harm.”

“Promise?” He nodded and I said,
“Okay, I believe you,” then covered a yawn with the back of my
hand.

“We should get some sleep. Thanks
again for letting me stay with you.”

“You’re welcome. I totally get it, by
the way. There are plenty of nights when I really don’t want to be
alone, either.”

*****

Jessie was gone when I woke
up the next morning, but he’d left a little note on the nightstand
which said:
Thanks again for the
sleep-over. I never actually got to do any of those when I was a
kid. Can we do another one and watch scary movies and eat junk
food? Pretty please? It’ll be super fun. Hugs, J.
Underneath that, he’d drawn a little stick figure
in a crash helmet, leaning out the window of a race car and waving.
I grinned and returned the note to the nightstand before going to
get dressed.

When I went downstairs to the kitchen,
I found Nico sitting at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee and
a thick textbook. He looked up at me and said, “Really?”

“Really what?” I asked as I filled the
tea kettle at the sink.

“I saw Jessie coming out of your
bedroom this morning. Are you really sleeping with that
guy?”

“Nope. I just let him spend the night
because he wanted some company. He’s cute though, so why would that
be so hard to believe?”

“He’s starting to feel like family
since Nana took him in, so that makes it weird. Also, he couldn’t
be further from your type.”

“You’re right. That’s why you should
have known I didn’t sleep with him.”

“Good point,” Nico said before taking
a sip of coffee.

“What are you up to today?” I asked as
I put the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner.

“You’re looking at it. I have so damn
much reading to do. It doesn’t help that my mind keeps wandering,
so I end up having to read the same paragraph over and over.” He
took another sip and asked, “What about you?”

“I need to text Vincent and see what
he’s up to today. If he’s free, I have a project in Marin that I
could use his help with. I’m trying to get the landscaping under
control around Tillane’s house.”

“Really? Landscaping is part of your
job description?”

“My job description is pretty vague.
Basically, I do Zan’s shopping and help out as needed.”

“You don’t talk about this guy very
often. What’s he like?” Nico asked.

“Stubborn. So very, very
stubborn.”

“I love his music. It seems surreal to
me that you go see this huge celebrity twice a week.”

“It’s funny, I don’t think of him as a
celebrity. I mean, I like his music too, but...I don’t know.
Somehow this guy and Zan the pop star don’t have a hell of a lot to
do with one another.”

“The thing I remember most about Zan
Tillane is that he was fucking gorgeous.”

“He still is, in this unkempt, ten
years past due for a haircut, only shaves twice a week, got his
wardrobe at a thrift shop in the Haight Ashbury kind of
way.”

Nico grinned and said, “That could
still be sexy.”

“If you’re into that sort of thing.” I
pulled the phone out of my pocket and shot a text to my brother,
then grabbed a mug and tossed in a tea bag. Vincent texted back a
couple minutes later and I told Nico, “He’s free and actually
excited at the prospect of doing some yard work. Apparently his
husband is taking their son to a birthday party today and staying
to help chaperone. I get the impression Vinnie was all too happy to
dodge the prospect of a day spent with sugared up
preteens.”

“He’s an awesome dad,
though.”

“Oh, he totally is, and he adores his
son. But that doesn’t mean he wants to spend the day at a bowling
alley with twenty of Josh’s hyper little friends.”

“True,” Nico said.

After finishing my tea and saying
goodbye to my cousin, I drove to my brother’s house. He and his
husband Trevor had bought a charming Edwardian on Russian Hill a
few months back. It had been fairly rundown, but they were
renovating it bit by bit. They’d already finished the outside,
painting it a pretty dark blue with white trim and creating a
gorgeous garden in the postage-stamp sized front yard.

My brother-in-law opened the door when
I knocked and greeted me with a hug and a big smile. “Hey, Gianni.
Good to see you.”

“You too, Trevor. My condolences on
spending the day at a bowling alley with a pack of junior high
kids.”

“It could be worse.”

“How?”

“Last month we went to a karaoke
birthday party for a female friend of Josh’s. He and I were the
only guys at the party and he flat-out refused to sing, so somehow,
I got roped into performing all of Justin Bieber’s greatest hits.
Twice. I barely survived.”

I chuckled and told him, “I would have
paid to see that. And Vincent made you go alone to that one, too?
How does he keep dodging these bullets?”

“He always has a good excuse, and
that’s fine with me. To be honest, I enjoy these parties. The kids
are fun at this age. That’s why I volunteer to
chaperone.”

“You’re a better man than me, Trevor,”
I told him. We’d been walking down the hall to the back of the
house as we were talking, and emerged in their sunny kitchen. It
was the first room they’d renovated, and it was clearly the heart
of their home. Since Trevor was a chef, they’d really gone to town.
Functional stainless steel appliances, including a massive
six-burner stove, contrasted nicely with rich stone countertops and
attractive maple cabinets.

My brother and their son were sitting
at the breakfast bar. The kid turned to me and said in lieu of a
greeting, “Uncle Gi, are Legos a stupid present for a kid turning
thirteen?”

“No. You’re almost thirteen and you
love Legos.”

“But maybe I shouldn’t love Legos,”
Josh said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with an
index finger. “Maybe I’m immature for my age.”

“Immature has to be the last word I’d
ever use to describe you,” I told him.

He turned to Trevor and said, “Dad,
can we stop by the store before the party and get a different gift?
Maybe, like, an iTunes gift card or something? I don’t want Ronnie
Frasier to think I’m lame.”

“Ronnie’s a good friend, he won’t
think that,” Trevor told him.

Josh shot him a look. “This is junior
high, dad. It’s like the Serengeti. One week you’re friends with
the lions, the next week you’re their entree. I don’t want to do
anything totally stupid and piss off the lions.”

“If you really want to, we can stop
off and get a gift card on the way to the bowling alley,” Trevor
told him.

“Does that mean I can keep the Lego
set?” Josh asked.

“That wouldn’t have been your ulterior
motive all along, would it?” Vincent asked with a grin.

“No, Dad,” the kid said flatly. “My
ulterior motive is always the same: not coming across as a total
dork and knocking down the house of cards that’s my junior high
social life.”

“It
is
a cool Lego set, though,” my
brother pointed out.

Josh grinned a little. “I know. But
that has nothing to do with my quest to avoid social
suicide.”

“Well, if we’re going to go to the
store first, we’d better get going,” Trevor told him.

The kid slid off his seat and said,
“Okay. Hi and bye, by the way, Uncle Gi. Are you going to be at
dinner tonight?” The family gathered every Sunday evening at Nana’s
house.

“Yup. Have fun at the party, I’ll see
you later.”

“Fun’s not really an option,” he told
me gravely. “The best I can hope for is not completely humiliating
myself.”

“Well, good luck with that, then,” I
said.

Vincent kissed his son on the forehead
and his husband on the lips before they left, then picked up some
juice glasses from the counter and carried them to the sink. As he
rinsed them out and put them in the dishwasher I told him, “I never
would have imagined this for you, Vinnie, but it suits you
incredibly well.”

“What does?”

“The husband, the house, the kid, this
whole domestic bliss thing you’ve got going on. It’s incredibly
sweet.”

He turned toward me and said, “I got
so damn lucky when I met Trevor. I never dreamed I’d have this,
either.”

“He got lucky, too,” I told
him.

My brother grinned embarrassedly and
changed the subject by saying, “Should we bring some gardening
tools with us?”

“No, Tillane has a well-stocked
toolshed. I don’t know why, since he has zero interest in doing
yard work.”

“Alright.” He grabbed a jacket from
the back of a chair and pulled it on over his black t-shirt, then
adjusted his silver-framed glasses exactly the same way Josh had
adjusted his. “Let’s get going, then. Want me to drive?”

“No, I will. We just need to make a
quick stop at the market.”

*****

It took about an hour to
cross the Golden Gate Bridge and head into Marin County, then
meander down the long private drive to Zan’s house. I had to enter
security codes at not one but two imposing gates, which slid open
when I did that. There was a little security camera at the top of
each gate, linked to a display screen in the den, so Zan was
alerted to our arrival. I’d texted him earlier to ask if Vincent
and I could come by, and he’d replied:
Haven’t you got anything better to do?
I’d written back ‘no’ and he’d texted:
Suit yourself then.

I expected him to hide in
the den, like he had for weeks when I first started the job. But
instead, Zan met my brother and me in the kitchen and stuck his
hand out to Vincent. “Zan Tillane. Good to meet you, mate.” What
the ever-loving hell? Never once had I gotten a ‘good to meet you,
mate,’ or anything even remotely resembling a welcome. I’d assumed
that it was some glitch in Zan’s personality, but now I realized it
was just
me
he
objected to, not visitors in general. Well, that was fucking
special.

I stared at the two of them for a few
moments while they chatted like long-lost chums. Then I turned and
left by way of the side door. Neither seemed to notice.
Awesome.

In the tool shed, I grabbed a couple
narrow pruning saws and a ladder, then went to work on the huge old
oak tree to the left of the house. I’d been at it a good twenty
minutes before Vincent finally came outside. When I frowned at him
he asked, “What?”

“Are you two BFFs now? Did you braid
his hair and talk about boys and make matching friendship
bracelets?”

“What exactly are you talking
about?”