May in December (2 page)

Bruce tilted his head up to the heavens and closed his eyes. “Robert, I know you can hear me. Is Gail right? Should I try to make a resolution to get out more…to m-meet someone new? I want to start living life again, but there are so many memories.” The wind picked up, his heartfelt plea blown across the air currents. “Help me. Guide me. Show me a sign. Anything.”

“Hogan! You come back here this instant.”

Opening his eyes, Bruce turned in the direction of the frantic voice. Bounding toward him was a huge brindle-colored boxer, its red leash dragging behind. The dog jumped up, knocking the coffee cup from Bruce’s hands. Cold paws landed on his shoulders, and a wet tongue proceeded to lick his nose and cheeks.

Bruce laughed, the sound foreign to his ears. “Well, hello to you too.” He scratched the dog behind upright ears. “Are you Hogan?” he asked the boxer.

The dog snorted and wagged his stumpy tail.

“Hogan, you naughty dog. Come here.” Yips and yaps followed the breathless voice.

Bruce glanced over his shoulder. As the dog walker approached, the other dogs tangled about his feet enough to cause him to stumble.

With leash in hand, Bruce suppressed his grin and strolled over to the hapless man. “I think this fella escaped from you.”

The young man glanced up from the jumble under his feet. “Oh, sir, I’m so sorry. He didn’t hurt you, did he? Hogan’s a good, but stubborn dog.”

“And handsome too.” Bruce watched the dog walker struggle to untwist the leashes. “Here, let me give you a hand.”

Between the two of them, they unraveled the rambunctious dogs in no time. Once everything was sorted out, Bruce passed Hogan’s leash over to the young man. When their fingers touched, a warm, liquid feeling buzzed up Bruce’s arm and pooled in his groin.
What the hell?

“T-thank you.” The young man glanced up through shaggy bangs, his hazel eyes lit with stunned surprise. “Mr. Deirmann?”

Bruce paused, squinting a bit. The voice sounded familiar, but the face…? It took a couple of moments for recognition to set in. “Jorry Nelson?”

“You remembered me.”

Bruce’s smile was genuine. “How could I forget?” Gangly little Jorry had been a regular fixture in his home when his children were growing up, trailing after them like a lost, needy puppy. The last time Bruce had seen him was at Kelley’s graduation party, almost four years ago. Checking out Jorry now, he stood shoulder height to Bruce. Gone was the gawkiness, yet he retained the aura of a misfit. His dusty blond hair was in desperate need of a trim, and his brilliant smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’ve seen you walking the dogs every day in the park.” Bruce nodded toward the panting dogs. “I didn’t know it was you; otherwise, I’d have said hello.”

“Same for me. It’s good to see you, Mr. Deirmann.”

“Call me Bruce.”

“Okay…Bruce.” From the way Jorry hesitated, the name didn’t fall easily from his lips. “How are Kelley and Kerri?” he asked, his arms jerking with the dogs’ movements. “Do they live around here?”

“Kelley is finishing up his last year at the University of Michigan with a bachelor’s degree in biophysics. Kerri lives in Traverse City and is the manager of a dental office. She’s getting married around Christmas Eve.”

“Wow.” Jordy whistled low and shook his head. “They’ve done good for themselves. You must be proud.”

“I am.”

“How are you and Mr. Bennett doing?”

“Robert died a couple years ago from pancreatic cancer.” Bruce stated matter-of-factly. Which surprised him, because he never thought he’d reach a point where the pain was dull enough he could talk about the death and not feel something. Time to move on.

“Oh, Mr. Deirm—Bruce, I’m so sorry.” Jorry dropped his chin, his voice buttered in sympathy. “I-I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay.” Bruce laid his hand on Jorry’s shoulder. It felt thin through the black hoodie. “Not many people knew. It happened fast.”

Jorry glanced up and studied Bruce’s face, as if he was reassuring himself he hadn’t committed an unpardonable sin. “Are you still in the house on Treetop Street?”

“I’m in the middle of moving.” Bruce pointed at the fourth floor of the apartment building on the other side of the park. “I’ll be living there by the new year.”

“Cool. Nice view of the park from there.”

“I guess that’s why they call it the Parkview Apartments.”

Both men chuckled. When the laughter ended, they stood together in a slight awkwardness that only time apart could create.

“Oh, and it’s close to the Otsego Oasis Golf and Ski Resort,” Bruce added to keep the conversation going.

“Lucky you.” Jorry kicked a piece of brown sod at the edge of the walkway. “I’m no good at those sports.”

Bruce smiled. “Me either.” The admittance brought timid relief to Jorry’s eyes.

The dogs began to whine and whimper, tugging at their leashes and jerking Jorry down the path. Bruce followed, not ready to leave Jorry’s side. “But enough about me. Tell me about yourself. Do you live here in Gaylord?”

Jorry hesitated. “You could say that.”

“How are your mother and grandmother?”

Jorry’s smile wavered. “Grandma died a few years ago. I miss her a lot. Mom…” His voice grew faint. “She’s Mom. Lives with some biker dude out west. I don’t hear much from her.”

Bruce nodded. He was familiar with Jorry’s family dynamics. His grandmother had raised him while his mother ran wild with men of dubious natures. He decided to change the subject to something safer. “I remember you wanting to work with animals. What college did you decide on?”

Jorry dropped his shoulders and cast his eyes away from Bruce. “I didn’t get my diploma.”

Definitely the wrong topic
. Bruce tried again. “Where are you working?”

“At the Dawg Haus on Winter Street.” Jorry glanced up at Bruce, his eyes pleading for understanding. “It’s not the best job in the world, but you know the economy. And when you don’t have your GED, you get a job where you can get a job.”

Bruce nodded his empathy. “I know that all too well. I lost my job earlier this year.”

“Really? What do you do now?”

“Maintenance over at the resort.”

“That’s cool.”

For a few minutes, they walked in a companionable silence, save for the occasional dog bark. Ahead of them, city workers erected candy-cane lawn ornaments. Bruce gestured toward the holiday statues. “I swear, every year they start decorating for Christmas earlier. Do you have plans for the holidays?”

“Working. Which reminds me, I need to get the dogs back.” Jorry nervously switched his hands on the dog leashes and stepped up his pace. “See you around?”

Bruce nodded. “I don’t mind talking to you more, whenever you’re in the park.”

Jorry flashed another smile. This time, there was a twinkle in his eyes. “I’d like that. See you later, Bruce.”

Bruce watched the hooded figure with the dog pack disappear around the bend. He waited for the swell of loneliness to swallow him. For some strange reason, it didn’t. Instead, a glimmer of peace filled his being.

Is this the sign you sent me, Robert? You always had a weird sense of humor.

Chapter Two

Jorry cringed when the door chime announced his entrance.

“It’s about time, faggot.” A greasy-haired man with acne scars squinted up from the latest gossip rag he had been thumbing through. “You were due in a half an hour ago.”

“I’m sorry, Todd.” Jorry rubbed his cold hands together and then blew between them. “The dogs were being a bit difficult, and I met someone…”

Todd tossed the newspaper on the counter next to the cash register and glared down. “I don’t want to hear excuses, dimwit. While you’re on this job, that’s what you do. Your job.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All the dogs delivered?”

“Yes.”

“And the money from your last
dog delivery
?”

“Here.” Jorry bit his bottom lip as he pulled out the wad of money from inside his hoodie pocket.

Todd wasted no time grabbing the money and fingering through the cash. “Wait a fuckin’ minute.” He frowned and recounted it twice. “You’re short a hundred.”

Jorry held his breath. “Mr. Baylor said he would pay the rest next week at our usual time.”

“And you sucked him off before or after payment?”

“B-before.”

The heavy hand seemed to move in slow motion toward Jorry’s face, but as usual, he didn’t duck in time. The force of the blow knocked him unsteady on his feet and brought a shrill, painful ring inside his ear.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t deliver the goods until you’re paid up front?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you’re gonna be. I’m taking the missing money out of your pay.” Todd curled his chapped lips. “Double.”

“Double? You can’t do that. I need gas. Food. And I have to pay for my grandma’s headsto—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your needs or your dead granny. I can dock your pay, and I will.” Todd stepped over to the cash register and pushed a button. A drawer popped open, and he stashed the cash inside before slamming the drawer shut. “Maybe then you will remember how it’s done.”

The door chimed again, and a regal, handsome man with a camel cashmere scarf tucked tastefully under his dimpled chin entered. He removed his Armani sunglasses, his dancing eyes bouncing between Todd and Jorry. Pickworth W. Johnson III, owner of the Dawg Haus franchise, was a rich man with nothing to do but oversee his business and make connections in the community for his one-day bid for mayor.

However, there was a darker side of the gentleman that only a few chosen people saw. “Is there a problem here, men?”

“No. Mr. Johnson,” Todd and Jorry sputtered in unison. Todd added, “I have everything under control.”

Pickworth removed his leather gloves and cast them on the counter. He reached out a finger and traced the red swelling on Jorry’s cheek. “Did someone do this to you?”

Jorry trembled under the gentle touch. “No,” he lied, refraining from glancing in Todd’s direction. “I was a bit clumsy walking the dogs today.”

“You have to be more careful, Jorry. You’re a representative of PWJ Enterprises and are an important commodity to me,” Pickworth said. “If you are observed as damaged goods, nobody will want to pay full price for your special services.”

“Understood, sir.”

Pickworth turned his attention to Todd, his demeanor businesslike. “We have some details to go over for the upcoming holidays, parties and the sort. People will be clamoring for our services.” He laid a hand on Todd’s shoulder and directed the man toward the office. “Of course, discretion is of the utmost importance. I may ship in some additional help for the Ultimate Superior Doggy Biscuits, which will be selling for one hundred dollars an ounce. Oh, and don’t forget to go to the puppy mill. We need some bait at the dogfight tomorrow night. The holidays are upon us, and I need to make some hefty donations to the Humane Society.”

“I don’t know why we donate so much to charities, Boss,” grumbled Todd. “The money could be used for greater things.”

Pickworth sighed and addressed Todd as one would a child. “For political gain. Once I make a name for myself as the ‘people’s politician’ among the community, I can easily get elected to the mayor’s office, then go on to the state legislature and even take the governor’s chair.” Pickworth examined his manicured fingernails. “Besides, I’ve donated enough money to the police force to help them buy three new cop cars. Do you think, if someone blows the whistle on me, the police are actually going to believe I have anything to do with illegal activity?”

“Smart thinking, Boss.”

As Pickworth and Todd strode toward the door, Todd turned to address Jorry. “There are some dogs to be bathed. Do it, and afterward make up another batch of our special holiday mix dog cookies. You’re up for more deliveries tomorrow.”

Jorry skirted around the two men, more than happy to leave them alone. He entered the kennels and glanced down the washing list. Six dogs were due for bathing and nail clips. It would make for a long night. He suppressed a smile. At least he had something pleasant to think about—his next meeting with Bruce Deirmann.

* * * *

“Hello, everyone. Sorry I’m late.” Bruce nodded toward the three-way divided computer screen with a giddy feeling in his heart. Never in his life did he think he would be talking to anyone via the computer. It was like something out of classic
Star Trek
or
The Jetsons
. Yet, video chatting was here and a lifesaver at times. And it was beyond fantastic to be able to see his family in their individual elements.

His son, Kelley, was on a laptop in an upscale coffee shop. Daughter Kerri was using her desktop at her desk in the dentist’s office. Ex-wife Gail was on her tablet in what appeared to be her bathroom, her corgis’ barks bouncing off the walls. Bruce didn’t want to pursue the thought of what she was doing in there.

All three were deep in conversation. About what, Bruce couldn’t tell. All he knew was once upon a time he’d had his finger on everything in his children’s lives. Now he could barely understand most of what Kelley said about school, and his little girl? Kerri didn’t need him anymore. It was all Bill this and Bill that, and Bill, Bill, Bill. Bruce had had the pleasure of meeting Kerri’s fiancé three times and already knew he didn’t like him. Too snobby. Too oily. Too fake.

Bruce stepped into view of his camera and sat down to chat.

“Hi, Daddy.” Kerri giggled and waved.

Kelley raised his frothy cup of coffee. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hello, dear.” Gail air-kissed twice.

Bruce reached out to adjust his screen, but it wasn’t the screen that needed modifying. Soon he would have to break down and buy some glasses.
Welcome to the midforties
. “Did I miss anything interesting?”

Kelley shook his head. “Nothing but the same ole insane wedding crap that Mom and Kerri have been rambling on about.”

“You wait until you get married,” Kerri argued. “There’s a ton of stuff to think about. We’ll see how well you and your bride hold on.”

“Ain’t happening.” Kelley sat back, seemingly amused he could still get under his sister’s skin. “Bachelorhood is in my blood. I ain’t never gonna grow up.”