Jacob's Ladder (27 page)

I put the bandanna back over my hair.

“Wait,
what
?”

In the end I went along with Mary Catherine and Muse on a delivery run that took us about a half hour down the coast to a town with a fairly big discount-designer-clothing store. I was able to purchase a pair of black gabardine trousers and a guayabera, that lightweight-linen camp-style shirt with the tone-on-tone embroidery, but without pockets. The kind intended for nice occasions in tropical environments that I always think of as Mexican wedding shirts. I managed to find a nice belt and a pair of black loafers that were casual yet still elegant. I even had to buy dress socks.

I hadn"t dated since long before Sander. What I mostly did was feed men and let them stay over. I wondered if I even had the skill set for a regular evening out, and I pictured Muse texting me like some small but equally fierce Cyrano de Bergerac to tell me what she thought I should say.

Muse interrupted by holding a bottle of cologne that smelled like lemon peel in front of my face. “Here, try this.”

“That"s nice.” I checked the price tag. “I can do that.” Really, I was having a hard time processing. I"d never liked to shop, and I didn"t think I could take much more.

Muse eyed me shrewdly. “That"s enough,” she stated and allowed me to take my purchases to the counter to pay.

“You"ve been through a lot lately,” she said as we walked out the door to wait for Mary Catherine to swing back by and pick us up in the van. “Maybe you need some kind of talisman. A healing crystal.”

156

Z. A. Maxfield

“I don"t think I believe in stuff like that, Muse.”

“Well, I"m not sure that matters as long as someone does, and I do.” She took a chain from around her neck with a little glob of amethyst on it. “This is supposed to protect you against intoxication and seduction.” I pushed it back. “Why the hell would I want that?” Muse giggled. “It was also said by Moses to be the spirit of God when it was placed in the official robe of the high priest of the Jews.” I gaped.

“Seriously, you can look that up.” She hooked the thing around my neck and clasped it. “You"ve been having a pretty legendary run of bad luck. It might help.” This time I laughed. “Yeah. I guess. At any rate it couldn"t hurt.” Mary Catherine pulled up in front of the store just before a gentle rain began to fall. Maybe my luck was looking up after all.

Since I wanted to visit Dan in the hospital, I got ready for my date and got a ride there from Bianca. She dropped me off with a saucy wink of approval and a scary kind of feral growl I took as a kind of go-get-"em-tiger noise. I knew that in a little bit JT would be picking me up. In the meantime I wanted to find out what else Dan had learned about his arm from his doctors.

Dan did a double take when he saw me in my date finery. “All dressed up for me? I"m flattered and frankly alarmed. What do you know that I don"t?” I acknowledged his joke with a roll of my eyes. “I have a date.”

“JT came through!”

“He brought me a rose at work this morning.”

“Classy.” He held his hand out for water, and I gave it to him, holding the straw so it wouldn"t fall out of the mauve plastic cup.

“I thought so.” I avoided his eyes. “He seems to be on the level.” Dan smiled. “You really like this guy.”

“Yeah.”
Shit
. Family can make you feel like you"re in sixth grade again. “He"s nice.”

“But something is different about him. You"re into him in a big way.”

“I know.” I swallowed. “He makes me feel safe.

“You"re a big guy, Jakey. What do you need with—”

“Not like…safe from danger or anything, because no one is
safe
. He makes me feel like if I put my trust in him, if I told him my secrets and my dreams and my darkest fears, he"d never let me down.”

“That"s a lot to ask from a guy who shows up in the middle of the night after he leaves his girlfriend at her door.”

“I"m a Jewish homosexual. There"s nothing I like better than a paradox.” St. Nacho’s 3: Jacob’s Ladder

157

Dan winced but said nothing for a long time. He finally lifted his shoulder in a shrug that meant he"d given up trying to talk sense. “You"re an idiot.”

“I know. But you got my back, Danilo.”

“Just like you got mine.” He held out his left hand, and I grasped it, giving it a gentle squeeze. I stared at it for a while.

“This your jerk-off hand?”

“Like I"d tell you.” He grunted. “
No
.”

“Sucks to be you, big man.”

I laughed all the way to the lobby, where I received a text from JT.

On my way. C U.

158

Z. A. Maxfield

Chapter Twenty-five

I saw that truck coming, and my heart did a perfect dive from my chest straight toward my dick, making a flawless entry into the waters of my libido, no splash. That"s probably a bad thing when you want the truck as much as you want the man. For me JT was the total package. I knew it was hopeless, and if he was kidding himself, or planning to play in my sandbox until the rest of the playground beckoned again, my heart would be shattered into a million pieces.

It was the height of irony that I"d been trained to survive chemical warfare, only to be completely blown away by an ordinary man in an old red farm truck.

He pulled up to the curb and got out, looking awe-inspiring in a dark suit with a subtly striped burgundy tie, and I worried he"d think I was underdressed. Where was he planning to go? I had figured we"d go out for a drink and maybe have dinner at Nacho"s, but no one wore suits there. Before I could even touch the handle, he was around the truck and opening the door for me. It was a testament to the fact that he normally dated the kind of girl who waited on the curb to be helped in. I let him. I planned to ease him into the understanding that I didn"t need the same kind of cosseting his Barbies required—until he took my hand with such gentle caring and helped me up into the passenger seat. Maybe I"d try out being one of his girls for a while if it got me that kind of shy appreciation and the gentle kisses he placed on my lips before closing the door between us.

When he came around the front of the truck and got in, only the way his hands shook when he put the key into the ignition and the quick glance he made around the parking lot gave any clue how hard being with me was going to be for him.

I cleared my throat. “You know, you don"t have to start by yelling
ta-da I’m
here, I’m queer, get used to it
. It"s perfectly acceptable to take it slow.” He left the engine running but took his hands off the wheel to rub his face. “If I take you out and don"t treat you like a date, it feels disrespectful.” He turned and looked at me. “As if I think less of you in some way. So the way I see it, I ought to treat you better than I"ve ever treated anyone I"ve dated, since…” He trailed off but his eyes seemed to implore me to understand.

I took a deep breath. “I see. Thank you.”

“Yeah. Well.” He grimaced and put the truck in gear. “You look nice.”

“Am I dressed okay? I didn"t have a lot of choices and—”

“You look great.”

“Are we heading somewhere I"m likely to need a jacket?” St. Nacho’s 3: Jacob’s Ladder

159

“No, I thought we might head down to Santa Barbara for dinner, maybe.

Bouchon is a nice place. I made reservations.”

“I"ve heard of it. Sounds excellent. It"s a long drive, though.”

“I thought maybe on the way we could talk.”

“Really?” I asked. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I”—he glanced over at me quickly—“I don"t know.” I thought of a smart-ass comment or two, and a couple of dumb ones. “Me neither.”

“You can tell I"m trying, though. Right?”

“Trying what?”

“Whatever it is I"m supposed to be doing?”

“What
are
you doing?”

He drove for a few minutes in silence—until we reached a turnout that overlooked the ocean. Then he pulled the truck to a stop and turned off the engine.

Without the dash lights and with nothing but the moonlight outside, it was hard to see his face.

“Are you trying to make this difficult?” he asked.

“Me? No, I was trying to make it easier. I just wanted to know what you want to talk about. When you said you wanted to talk…” All at once JT shook his head and started laughing. “I didn"t
want
to talk. I said I thought maybe we could talk. That"s always my opening gambit. Usually once I say that, I can just drive while I"m led through a conversation where all I have to do is acknowledge the speaker every so often.”

“No shit?”

“Seriously. I"ve always picked outgoing girls because they take care of the talking. That comes from knowing I make a better impression with my mouth shut.”

“I like it when you talk to me. What other misconceptions do you have about yourself?”

“I"m actually pretty self-aware.”

“Says the uncrowned King of Narnia.”

He sagged a little.

“I"m sorry. That was a shitty thing to say.”

“But true.”

I tried to see his expression in the darkness. “My own brother came out to me a couple of days ago. He hid his sexuality for years. Maybe everyone has to do things in their own time and their own way. Who am I to judge?”

“You"re the guy who never lied.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked. “That I never lied? For me coming out was easy because I gave fuck-all about what anyone else thought. But I lie about things 160

Z. A. Maxfield

all the time. I make excuses for a guy like Sander, who screwed around with everyone in the neighborhood and shut down each argument we had with his fists. I let you in the door of my motel room and tell myself it"s okay if you don"t want to stay. I pretend that I trust people. I lie all the time, except…maybe only to myself.” Word vomit happens. I rarely let anything out that I don"t want others to see, although sometimes it"s like food poisoning and I regurgitate the most toxic things as a defense mechanism. I shut up, embarrassed.

JT spoke then. “I thought if I was a better Jew, God would keep the temptation away. I used religion as an excuse to deny my nature. I thought maybe I"d get the strength to say no if I studied the Torah and believed.”

“Imagine being cockblocked by God,” I muttered. “That"s a scary thought.”

“I prayed hard for an answer, Yasha. I have to at least consider the possibility that he sent me a gay Jew named Jacob who was wrestling with his own questions and ready to ask me for help.”

I smiled, but I doubted he saw it. “I don"t remember much of that night.”

“I do. You called me „grandfather," and then you kissed my hand.”

“Besides Daniel, you"re the only person I haven"t had to lie to myself about.”

“Probably because I was lying enough for both of us.”

“No. That"s not it. Maybe it wasn"t about me anymore. Maybe I just…love you.

And whatever you do, wherever you end up, nothing will change that.”

“Jeez, Yasha,” he whispered. “Surely I don"t deserve that.”

“Maybe you don"t. But I can"t help it. I love you, JT.” My mouth went dry. “Do you think you can just take me home?”

“Home?” JT asked.

I bit my lip. “Somewhere we can make love.”

JT pressed his lips against mine and I could feel him smile. I opened to him, letting him tease and taste, exploring him back as though we had all the time in the world, parked there on the side of the road. Finally he broke the kiss and gazed down at me. His knuckles brushed the side of my face.

“Home.” He keyed the ignition to start the truck. “Instead of dinner?”

“We"ll figure something out,” I told him as he waited until it was safe to pull away from the turnout and head back the way we came. Pretty soon the SeaView Motel was in sight on the highway, the
V
and the
I
still out on the sign. “How long has that sign been like that?”

“Always, off and on. I can"t remember that far back.”

“Your dad"s a subtle prankster.”

JT flashed a grin. “That he is.”

I had a sudden inspiration. “Has he met Mary Catherine?”

“I"m certain he has. Her son stayed at the SeaView, and Dad helped pack his things when he was still in the hospital.”

St. Nacho’s 3: Jacob’s Ladder

161

“Has he…? Did he ever get the chance to be social with her?”

“Are you
matchmaking
?” JT asked.

“I believe I am,” I answered. “I think they"d be perfect together.”

“My dad is older than she is by what…ten years?”

“Who cares? Your dad is a Charlie Brown Christmas tree, and he needs a little love.”

JT grinned. “You may be right.”

We pulled up in front of a classic brick-and-siding, ranch-style house painted white with green shutters. It was such a homey, painfully American kind of place that it tugged at my imagination instantly, from the welcoming door at the top of the porch stairs to the basketball hoop that hung from the wide eaves over the garage.

Once we parked in the driveway, JT and I sat for a minute, just looking at it.

He reached for my hand, and I got the feeling hardly any of his dates ever ended up there. JT opened his door and got out. I shouldn"t have been surprised, but for a minute I was still looking at the house, so when I went to open the door on my side, JT was there, opening it for me, placing his hand on my upper arm as I stepped down. He laced our fingers together again and led me to the front door.

I waited for him to take out his key. For the longest time he stood there.

“A hundred boys must have kissed my sisters under this porch light.”

“You have sisters?” I knew both Lents men, and this came as a surprise to me, although I don"t know why. We"d never really talked about the family much.

“Yeah. Two. They"re older. One is in Seattle, and the other lives in San Diego.”

“I didn"t know.”

He gathered my hands in his. “I used to come down and watch from that window over there and imagine their boyfriends were kissing me.” I looked where he was pointing, toward what was probably the living room, obscured by sheer drapes of an old-fashioned variety, lacy and regal looking.