Chapter 9

I sat on a bench on the boardwalk in the cold March morning, watching the sun rise over the Atlantic. It was one of my favorite things about living on the Jersey Shore. There was something so peaceful and centering about the beginning of a new day. As the sky lightened from deep to pale blue with hints of yellow, I thought about the night before with Miguel. I could honestly say I'd never had that kind of response to another guy. Of course most guys I hung out with didn't dress like Miguel. My confusion over it had me up before dawn, even though I hadn't gotten to bed until almost two in the morning.

Was it just the way he dressed? I shook my head. Not really. It was more the way he treated me. He always seemed happy to see me. He wanted to spend time with me. He talked to me, and we laughed together. It wasn't something I was used to.

But what did it mean? It was true I didn't have many friends. I kept to myself most days when I wasn't working or taking care of Cody. I tried to trace back to when I'd started pulling away from my friends. It was probably when I started working for Jeff when I was sixteen. My parents were barely making it to work and my older brother, Roy, was already out of the house. There never seemed to be enough food, and I worried Allison would get sick. I went to my father's friend, Jeff, and asked for a job at his mechanic shop. It meant I had to give up doing things with my friends on Saturdays, and it cut down on my after-school activities. The only reason I still played baseball was because Jeff's son, who was on my team, yelled at his dad for making me miss a game.

But that really was the end of me being a kid. My grades got worse, but I managed to graduate. My parents showed up too late to my graduation to see me walk, but Allie had been there with a bunch of her friends, cheering me on.

I closed my eyes and drifted back in time. I remembered having a lot more friends in elementary and middle school. A flash of memory startled me. My best friend, Robbie, lying on the ground bleeding. I sat up. What the fuck? My chest tightened and my breathing got shallow as it all came back to me.

Robbie had been my best friend since kindergarten. We'd done everything together. We were opposites in a lot of ways—I liked to play sports, he liked singing and art. I was tall for my age, and Robbie was on the short side. But for whatever reason, we hit it off. We spent almost every day together.

In eighth grade, Robbie told me he thought he was gay. He was so scared. He thought I wouldn't want to be his friend anymore. I told him it didn't matter to me. He was my best friend, and nothing would change that. That spring, everything changed.

I was walking home from baseball practice when I saw a group of kids fighting. At least, that's what I thought it was at first. As I got closer, I realized it was a group of boys beating on one kid, who was on the ground. I dropped my bag and ran over to the group of four boys with my bat held tightly in both hands. "Get off him, you assholes!"

The kids turned around, shocked someone was challenging them. I realized that I knew them. They went to my school. A second later, I saw that the kid on the ground was Robbie. "Get away from him!" I screamed.

"What are you gonna do about it, fag lover?" one of them taunted.

I raised the bat like I was going to swing at a pitch. "I'm going to knock your head off your shoulders." Two of them came toward me, and I swung and tagged one of them on the shoulder. "Go ahead, try it," I growled.

"He's crazy," one of the other kids said. "Let's get out of here."

The four of them ran away, and I ran to my friend, dropping to my knees next to him. "Robbie!" He was unconscious and bleeding from his mouth and nose.

I freaked out. This was before everyone had cell phones. My parents didn't even have flip phones. I didn't know what to do. I knew I shouldn't move him, so I just started yelling for help. Luckily, a man in Army camouflage was walking by. He ran over to us, saw what happened, and thankfully had a cell phone to call for help.

The rest of the memory was still foggy. I remembered talking to the police, and I told them who hurt Robbie. I wasn't going to let them get away with it. Robbie ended up staying in the hospital for a week. He had a concussion and a broken arm. His parents thanked me for saving their son. The kids at school didn't thank me. But no one dared come after me. I was still bigger than everyone in my grade. They just shunned me. My father was pissed that I "snitched" on the bullies. He said I should have let them finish the job. From that day on, I only spoke to my father if I absolutely had to.

Robbie never returned to school. His parents homeschooled him until the end of eighth grade and then sent him to a high school outside of our district. A year later, they moved away and I never saw him again.

A cold breeze blew on my face, making me realize tears were streaming down my cheeks. I hadn't thought about Robbie in years. We'd tried to stay in touch after everything, but he'd taken a long time to recover, and I think he and his parents had just wanted to forget everything.

And apparently, so had I. Now, I had to figure out how those bad memories fit into what was happening between Miguel and me. I wiped my eyes and checked the time. Almost eight. Time to get back to my apartment and move on with the rest of my day. I had the brunch and dinner services and hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep. Maybe I could get another hour in before I went to Moonlight.

When I got back to my place, my landlord, Mr. Peterson, was going up his front porch steps carrying a paper bag and takeout coffee cup. He seemed to be struggling to make it up the stairs without holding on to the railing for support.

I hurried over to him. "Hey, Mr. Peterson, let me get that for you." I gently took the bag and cup from his grasp. "Now you grab the railing, and I'll take this inside."

Mr. Peterson smiled wearily. "Thank you, Zachary." He patted my cheek. "You're a good man."

I felt myself blush. "Thanks, Mr. Peterson."

It took him a little while to get his key in the lock and open the front door. Once inside, I wrinkled my nose at the smell of old garbage. I followed him into the kitchen and was greeted with a sink full of dirty dishes and an overflowing garbage can. "Sorry about the mess," he said sadly. "I just can't seem to find the energy to do anything about it."

"It's ok, Mr. Peterson. You sit down and enjoy your breakfast. I'll take care of it." While he ate his doughnut and drank his coffee, I washed his dishes and took out his trash. I found some air freshener and sprayed it to get rid of the smell. I suppressed a sigh as I said goodbye to him after getting him settled in front of his television. I knew I was going to have to call his son. Mr. Peterson really couldn't take care of himself anymore.

By the time I got off the phone with the younger Mr. Peterson, it was almost time for me to leave for work. I would have to drink a lot of coffee to get through the brunch service. Hopefully, I could come home and take a nap before the dinner service.

When I parked in the small employee parking lot behind the hotel, I noticed a nice, late-model Harley parked next to the small cottage where Liam, Mr. O'Neil's brother, lived. Mr. O'Neil used to live there until he moved in with his fiancé, Jeremy Fitzgerald. I was tempted to go over and take a closer look at the motorcycle, but I didn't know who it belonged to, and Harley owners were usually particular about who touched their bikes.

The brunch service was packed, and everyone was hustling. Miguel came in and out of the dining room during the service. He smiled and waved at me each time, but we didn't get to chat.

I was dragging by the time service ended. Even coffee wasn't helping. Miguel came in while I was setting up the bar for dinner service. "You look wiped," he said as he sat on one of the bar stools.

"I didn't sleep well after I got home last night," I said. "I ended up catching the sunrise this morning."

Miguel winced. "Yikes. And you have to be back for dinner service at five."

"Yep."

"You know, we have a bunch of empty rooms," he said. "I could open one up for you to take a quick nap. Then you wouldn't have to go home to nap."

I raised a brow. "How did you know I was going to go home for a nap?"

Miguel shrugged. "It's what I would do. So what do you say?"

I didn't really have to think too hard about it. "Okay. I'm dead on my feet here. I'll take an hour nap. Then I'll grab us a late lunch from that little diner downtown. How does that sound?"

Miguel looked surprised at my offer. "Sure. That sounds good." He gestured for me to follow him. "I'll give you one of the ground-floor rooms."

He led me to the front desk, where he grabbed a key for a ground-floor room. It turned out to be one of the suites. I shook my head. "I don't need this much space. I'm just going to sleep for an hour."

Miguel smirked. "Only the best for my friends."

A thought occurred to me. "Are you going to get in trouble for doing this?"

He shook his head. "You're looking at the new front office manager. I'm allowed to do it. Besides, I worked at a hotel while I was a college student. I started out in housekeeping mainly because I wanted to know how every aspect of hotel management worked. I'll grab clean sheets from housekeeping and remake the bed while you're out getting our lunch."

I was too tired to argue. "Okay. If you're sure."

He handed me the key. "I'm sure."