Chapter 24

Robbie's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. "Zach? It's really you!"

I went to pull him in for a hug, but I stopped. "Sorry. I'm all dirty."

Robbie flung himself at me. "I don't care. I can dry clean the suit."

I wrapped my arms around the man who had been my childhood best friend. "It's so good to see you again," I said. "I've been thinking about you a lot lately."

Before Robbie could reply, Jeff came barreling into the office. "What the fuck is going on out here? Craig said you punched him for no reason."

"You know what, Jeff? I don't have to explain myself to you. Why don't you ask Craig why he threatened the life of a customer?"

Jeff eyed Robbie with disgust. "It don't matter. He's just another f?—"

I fisted Jeff's shirt. "Not another word, you fucking piece of trash.

"I'll call the police," Jeff threatened.

I let him go and he stumbled backward. "Go ahead, call them. The chief of police is a friend of mine. Do you want to know why? After Hurricane Sandy hit and you three were sitting in here drinking and selling overpriced bottles of water, I was helping people find food and clothes and get their belongings out of their flooded homes. So go ahead and call the police."

Jeff glared at me in impotent rage. I put my arm around Robbie's shoulders and guided him toward the front desk. "Let's get you paid up so you can get out of this shithole."

I ran the transaction, and he signed the credit card receipt. I noticed his hand was shaking and felt rage fill me all over again. "I'm so sorry, Robbie. I promise it's not like this everywhere. Things are a lot better since you left."

"I know," he said quietly. "I have friends who come down here every year for Pride and to just hang out." He smiled up at me. "But you haven't changed. You still jump in to protect people. Even people you don't know."

My cheeks heated at his compliment. "I just do what's right."

"I want you out of here!" Jeff yelled from across the room. "Take your shit and get out."

I closed my eyes and sighed. "Great." I handed Robbie his key fob. "You're all set. Do you have time to get a drink or something before you go back home?"

He nodded. "I'm staying at The Asbury Hotel for a couple of nights. I figured I'd wander around and see what's changed since I was fourteen."

"A lot," I said. I came out from behind the counter. "Let me walk you to your car."

I made sure Robbie got safely to his car and promised to call him once I had everything settled here. I really, really wanted to call Miguel and tell him about Robbie, but he was at work, and I didn't want to bother him. Instead, I hit Marco's number.

"Hey, Zach. What's up?"

"I have a problem, and I need your help," I said.

"What's wrong?" he asked, tension in his voice.

After I finished telling Marco the whole story, the line filled with every expletive imaginable. "That motherfucker," he growled. "If I wasn't stuck up in the City on a job, I'd come there myself and show him what happens when he messes with my family."

My heart squeezed at his words. Ever since I'd gotten to know Miguel and the rest of the people connected to Moonlight Inn, I'd felt like I was finally part of a real family. "I know Gabe can't make it until five, but I'm afraid if I leave my tools here, they'll be gone when I come back to get them."

"Give me ten minutes," Marco said. "I have to make a couple of calls, and then I'll get back to you."

"Okay. Thanks."

While waiting for Marco to call back, I went into my bay and started putting away my tools. It didn't take long because I usually put stuff away as I stopped needing it. Once my tools were away, I locked both levels of my tool chest. Right on cue, my phone vibrated with a call.

"Hey, Marco. What's happening?"

"Dante and Andrea will be there in about fifteen minutes. Does your toolbox come apart?"

"Yes," I replied. "And the bottom half has wheels."

"Good. Dante's bringing his pickup, and he has ratchet tie-downs to keep the boxes from moving around. Tommy said you can bring them straight to his shop."

"Oh wow. That's very nice of him."

"You're one of us now, Zach. We just need to get you your own Harley."

"Maybe someday," I said wistfully.

I heard someone say something to Marco in the background. He came back on and said, "I gotta go. Dante and Andrea will be there soon."

"Thanks, Marco."

Dante and Andrea pulled up a few minutes later in a dark-gray Ford F250. They both got out of the truck and met me in my bay. Jeff, Craig, and Larry watched them walk in with narrowed eyes. I chuckled to myself because Dante and Andrea were exactly the right people to send to shut their racist, misogynistic mouths.

Dante was a tall Black man, not as big as Marco or Gabe, but clearly possessing the kind of whipcord strength that took people by surprise. Andrea was a tall blonde woman with ice-blue eyes. It would have been easy to underestimate her, especially with her soft, Southern accent, but she would put any man in his place in a heartbeat.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice," I said.

"No problem," Dante replied. He held up two pairs of work gloves. "We came prepared."

I unlocked the wheels of the bottom box and the three of us carefully guided the heavy chest out of the bay and up to the back of the pickup. As we were maneuvering the top box to lift it into the truck, Larry came halfway down the driveway and shouted, "Need some help, little lady? You don't want to break a nail or something."

All three of us froze. I moved to school Larry, but Dante shook his head. "She's got it."

Andrea took a few steps toward the asshole, stopped, and slowly looked him up and down. Her lip curled derisively. "Bless your heart, little man. There is nothing you can help me with."

Larry clenched his fists. "You bitch." He took one step forward but stopped when Dante and I moved to either side of Andrea.

Dante crossed his arms over his chest. "You might want to rethink that, son."

I snickered because Dante was younger than Larry by a lot.

Larry cursed and walked back into the garage. After some more maneuvering and heavy lifting, we managed to get both boxes secured in the back of the truck.

I went back to my bay to check I hadn't forgotten anything. Dante came with me to ensure the three stooges didn't start any trouble. Once I finished my final sweep, I took the shop keys off my keyring and handed them to Jeff. "I'll expect my final paycheck on time." Then I walked away for the last time.

Tommy and my new coworkers were waiting for us at my new workplace. They had a spot set up for me and helped me move all my gear in. They seemed to already know Andrea and Dante. It turned out they were all in the same motorcycle club, and it was all veterans. I wasn't a veteran yet, but maybe they'd let me join if I had a motorcycle. I'd wanted to get a Harley for a while, but I'd never had enough money to buy one and no place to keep it even if I had. Maybe I could use some of the money coming my way from my old landlord to finally put a downpayment on one.

Tommy clapped me on the back. "Welcome aboard, Zach. Sorry things ended like they did."

"Thanks," I replied. "I shouldn't be surprised. Jeff's always been an asshole. I just ignored it most of the time because I wanted to keep my job."

Tommy gave me a crooked smile. "Well, I'm only an asshole occasionally." Snorts of laughter came from the other two mechanics and Tommy flipped them off. This was going to be a fun place to work.

When everything was settled, I thanked Dante and Andrea again for their help. "No problem at all," Andrea said. "Hey, Liam said you might be interested in playing DD."

"Yeah. I'm surprised he remembered. That was a few weeks ago."

Andrea smiled. "Liam has a good memory. So what do you say?"

"I'd like that," I replied. "But give me a couple of weeks to get settled here."

"Sure thing, Sarge."

Dante started to laugh. My brow furrowed. "What's so funny."

"That's what Andrea calls Marco when we're working together."

Now I was more confused. "But he's Navy."

"That's the joke," Andrea said.

"Okay, I guess. As long as he doesn't care."

Dante put his hand on my shoulder. "No worries. Marco's got a good sense of humor—most of the time."

Andrea snorted. "We'll see you soon, Zach. Don't be a stranger."

"I won't. Thanks again."

I headed home to shower and change. It was only a little after four o'clock, so Miguel wasn't home yet. I thought, again, about calling him to tell him about my day, but I didn't want to bother him at work. I'd tell him when he got home. Maybe we'd be able to go out and celebrate. I could introduce him to Robbie.

I texted Robbie when I was done, and he asked me to meet him at the bar in The Asbury Hotel. When I got there, he met me with another hug and led me to a small table near the bar. There weren't many people since it was still early. Robbie had changed into jeans and a soft-looking dark-blue short-sleeved button-down that accentuated his light-blue eyes.

I couldn't stop smiling. "It's so good to see you. I know I already said this, but I've been thinking about you a lot lately."

"Really?" He fidgeted with the straw in his drink. "I thought a lot about you when I got this job down here. I thought about looking you up, but I wasn't sure if you were still here or would want to see me."

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked.

"Well, you never answered my letters," he replied, his voice quiet.

"Letters?" My stomach twisted. "You sent me letters?"

He nodded. "Ten, I think, before I gave up."

"But I never got any of them. How…?" In a blinding instant, I knew. "My father." My mouth twisted with fury. "That bastard," I ground out. "He must have taken them out of the mailbox before I could see them."

He blinked and tilted his head. "I don't understand. Why would he do that?"

"Because he's a homophobic prick." I clenched my fists in an effort to contain my roiling emotions. The implications of what my father did hit me. My chest tightened. I looked over at my friend, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "You must have thought I hated you or something." I ran my hands through my hair. "God, after everything you went through. I'm so sorry, Robbie."

He stood and came over to my side of the table. He gestured for me to stand. "Come on, get up." Once I complied, he wrapped his arms around my waist. "It's okay, Zach. I'm here now. We can be friends again."

I enfolded him in my arms, trying to convey sixteen years of missing my best friend. "You're still short," I murmured.

He shoved at my chest in mock annoyance. "Not everyone can be a giant, you know. Besides, I'm not that short."

I stepped back and smiled down at him. "True. You're not as short as Miguel. He's pocket-sized."

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Miguel, huh? Tell me all about it."

My cheeks heated. "I don't have a lot to tell. At least not yet."

"Nuh-uh. There's a story there. Spill."

We sat, and I told him all about Miguel and my struggles with my sexuality. It felt good to talk to someone who could understand where both Miguel and I were coming from. "I still don't know what to do about it. Miguel thinks I'm straight, and he's started going out on all these dates."

"He won't know you're not straight if you don't tell him," Robbie said.

"I know. You're right. I guess I'm scared he won't think I'm worth his time."

Robbie rolled his eyes. "Seriously? I'll bet he's one hug away from throwing himself at you. Give him a chance to prove you wrong."

I spread my hands. "I'm not a fancy guy. I work with my hands. I get dirty. He's smart and sophisticated."

"First of all," Robbie began, "there's nothing wrong with working with your hands. It doesn't surprise me that you're a mechanic. You were always fixing things when we were kids. You were good at it then, and I bet you're better at it now."

"Thanks, Robbie," I said.

We talked more about how our lives had been for the past sixteen years. I told him about being in the Army National Guard. He said he wasn't surprised, considering how protective I was.

Robbie became a makeup artist after he tried acting first. He discovered he preferred to be behind the scenes and had a knack for doing makeup.

"That's why I'm down here," he said. "I was meeting with a bride and her mother to talk about doing makeup for the bridal party and the mothers of the bride and groom. Including the bride, that's eleven people."

"Wow. Big wedding."

"Yeah. They're spending a lot of money. And I don't come cheap. I work in Manhattan most of the time. The mom knows one of my clients and asked to meet with me."

"I'm assuming you got the job," I said.

"Of course," he replied with a wink. "The wedding is in June, so I'll be back down here then."

"Where are you living now? In the City?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Up in Hoboken. But my parents are still down here in Red Bank." He looked at his watch. "Speaking of which, I'm supposed to be at their house for dinner. I should probably get going."

"Will we get a chance to meet again before you go back?"

He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "I'd like that. I'll call you tomorrow and let you know what my schedule looks like. Maybe I can meet Miguel."

"That would be awesome. I'm sure you and Miguel will hit it off right away."

We paid for our drinks and Robbie hugged me again. I couldn't wait to get home and tell Miguel.

I took the stairs two at a time when I got back to our apartment. It was seven-thirty, so Miguel would be home from work. I burst through the door, full of everything I wanted to say. "Miguel! I have to tell you about my day." I stopped short when I saw a strange man sitting on the sofa in the living room. "Who are you?" I snapped.

The stranger, a tall blond man, rose and held out his hand. "Hi. I'm Brad."

"Of course you are," I muttered.

Miguel walked into the room, a frown of confusion on his face. He was wearing a dark-green long-sleeved button-down and black skinny jeans. His makeup was flashier than how he wore it at work. "Zach? What's wrong?"

I could barely speak because my throat was so tight. I slid my gaze away from his. "Nothing. Everything's great."

"I heard you say you wanted to tell me about your day," he insisted.

I turned away from him to head to my bedroom. "Never mind. It's not important." I paused and said quietly, "You look nice. Enjoy your date."

I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it. I was beginning to think moving in with Miguel had been a mistake.