CHAPTER FOUR

Preston dragged himself to his truck and clicked open the locks. He was tired, cross, and sweaty, and wanted nothing more than to stand under a shower and wash away the shitty day at work.

It’d been a few years since he’d worked the seven to three on Christmas Day and he’d forgotten how absolutely crazy unwrapping gifts and eating turkey made people. He’d started the shift with a bang, catching a domestic disturbance call involving a married couple, the husband’s side piece and a loaded revolver, and it had gone south from there. He worked a couple of DUI car wrecks, given some speeding tickets to irate drivers trying to get to Grandma’s house, refereed three liquor fueled dinner table fist fights over politics, dealt with an assault triggered by a barking dog, and even made three arrests for a slugfest over whose turn it was to carve the turkey.

And that was the day shift.

He felt for the cops on the three to eleven, and really felt for the ones working the graveyard, when the liquor had been flowing for even longer and tempers were even shorter and the crazies were seriously out in force.

No telling what kind of shit those men and women were going to face.

Traffic had been light for most of the day but was beginning to pick up. The restaurant parking lots were mostly empty, but the movie theater lots were packed and there was a long line at the ticket booth. He started to pull in and catch a Christmas Day release, but the only one worth seeing was one Sabina wanted to watch, so he’d wait and take her when she got home. Which left either downloading a page-turner on his reader or sitting through yet another evening of any number of schmaltzy Christmas themed movies, all of which the streaming channels were pushing. Maybe he’d watch the “guy version” of a holiday movie: Die Hard.

It didn’t matter what he watched, nothing would help him missing Sabina, which made him feel even lonelier.

He stripped off his uniform and adjusted the shower to a comfortable temperature. He’d known exactly what he was getting into when he became involved with her, and he admired the hell out of her and the rest of her team for doing the job they did. Most of the time he was okay with the absences. This was the first one that had really bothered him, and it was because of the holidays. But he was a big boy. A lonely boy, but still a big boy, and he would survive.

He stayed in the shower long enough to wash away the miasma of the day and dressed in old jeans and a concert tee from a while back. It was too early for dinner, so he parked himself on the sofa and was looking at the new releases on his reader when his doorbell rang. Again, a flare of hope morphed into curiosity. It wouldn’t be Sabina or his family. And it wouldn’t be Lacey and Eagle. Damned if he knew who might be out there. There was only one way to find out.

He peered through the peep hole, couldn’t believe what he saw, and threw open the door and stared for a moment. An uncertain looking Paco Morales stood on his front porch. “Happy holidays,” Paco murmured.

Paco Morales? Preston didn’t know quite what to think.

Paco was the last person he would’ve expected to show up at his place on Christmas Day. He’d have thought Paco was celebrating with his family somewhere. Or out chasing down a conquest, if he was really as promiscuous as Sabina once said he was. Besides, this tough soldier had as little use for him as Eagle did.

More of Sabina’s doing.

Even as she was leaving for a duty assignment, she’d tried to take care of him.

He opened the door wider to admit Sabina’s teammate. “Come on in, and I’ll see what I can scare up for us to drink. After the day I’ve had, I need a beer and I bet you wouldn’t turn one down.”

“I wouldn’t,” Paco said. He stepped inside and looked around. “Nice place you have.”

“Thanks. I have Lacey to thank for a lot of it.”

Paco followed him into the living room. “Lacey? She did this?”

“The homey touches, yeah. She and Eagle took pity on me the other night and helped me with it some. Beer?”

“Sure.”

Preston fished two beers out of the refrigerator. He handed one to Paco and sank down on the easy chair across from the sofa. “I gather you weren’t sent on any training assignments this Christmas,” he said.

“Not this year, but it’s happened.” Paco sucked down a third of his beer. “So happens this year Sabina and a couple of looies are the only ones gone. Which suits the colonels fine. Everybody else is enjoying the holidays.”

“I’m glad for the others. Since I was going to be alone, I took another cop’s shift today so he could spend it with his daughter and his lady-love.” He swallowed a mouthful of beer. “A boring shift it was not.”

Paco raised his eyebrow and Preston shared a few of the day’s highlights. “Sounds like you earned your money today,” he told Preston. “After a day like that, you deserve a good meal. Want to go out somewhere for dinner?”

“I’d love to if there were anyplace open,” Preston said. “It’s Christmas Day. Every restaurant in town shuts down today.”

“Not every restaurant. I know a couple of delis a middle eastern place and a Chinese restaurant or two that are open tonight.”

“Chinese? Are they really open on Christmas?” Preston asked.

“They are, but I was thinking more of the kosher ones. They’ll all be open. This year the twenty-fifth is also the first night of Hannukah and they’re ready to feed us kosher-eating types.” He smiled and winked.

Kosher-eating types. Preston blinked. “Jewish? You?”

“Proud member of the Tribe of Judah,” Paco said. “Sephardic Jews from Spain via Argentina, and then San Diego.”

“How about that. So you’d know where to eat today.”

“I would. Every kosher restaurant and deli in town is ready and waiting to feed the Jewish community.”

“Will they feed a Methodist?” Preston asked, deadpan.

“As long as you don’t ask for a BLT or a ham sandwich,” Paco said dryly. “Seriously, I like to share a traditional meal on the first night of Hannukah. With Sabina gone, I thought you might be free and up for a change of pace dinner-wise.

“Normally, I have plenty of friends more than happy to join me, but with the first night of Hannukah falling on Christmas Day, many of them are busy with their own celebrations, or are with their families in other cities.”

“So you’re kind of stranded tonight, like me,” Preston said.

“Yeah.” Paco nodded. “So, to prepare you for what you’re going to have, our traditional meal has a lot of courses.

Usually, we start with fish-balls called quenelles that are deep-fried, then simmered in tomato sauce,'' he said. ''They’re made with salt cod.” Paco smiled.

“Along with the fish, we have bimuelos, which are fritters, again fried, which is a theme at Hannukah since the lamp oil lasting for eight nights is adopted symbolism by using oil to cook all your food.”

Preston was fascinated. A whole world he didn’t know, but was happy to learn about.

“After the fish we have whole artichokes, prepared in oil, and are very spicy, then we have a veal roast with peas and a pilaf, and desserts. The most popular is similar to an American jelly donut, but lighter and the filling isn’t gooey. They’re called sufganiyot, and you guessed it, they’re deep fried. That work for you, or are you a stickler for turkey and dressing on the twenty-fifth?”

“Actually, my family was more into enchiladas, tamales, and pozole,” Preston said. “Not the same, but it sounds as if some of the food sort of overlaps.”

“Yeah. Sort of.” Paco laughed.

“Let me throw on a decent shirt, and I’ll be right out.”

Preston traded out the grungy tee shirt for a nicer one and ran a comb through his hair. He was surprised Paco was so friendly and forthcoming, and since Preston didn’t want to be alone, he was more than happy to spend some time in someone else’s company. Especially with all that great food waiting for him at the restaurant.

He followed Paco, and soon they were seated in a cozy restaurant surrounded by multigenerational families with tons of food on their tables, everyone eating and talking.

A smiling waitress brought them a menu and pointed to a chalkboard on the wall. “Everything on the regular menu is available tonight along with a traditional Hannukah meal. We’re also offering kosher tamales.”

“Kosher tamales?” Preston asked.

“There is such a thing,” Paco said. “My mom used to make them for my abuela. You want to give theirs a shot?”

“Sure.”

They ended up ordering the fritters, the artichokes, the roast with the pilaf, and a side order of tamales. “You don’t eat kosher all the time, do you?” Preston asked.

“Hard to given my work, but I make sure I do on holidays,” Paco said. “The rest of the time I eat the shitty food every soldier eats.” Preston nodded understanding the dilemma. “Phil used to say I was a good kosher boy only on the holidays.”

“I bet you’re not the only Jewish soldier who does that,” Preston said. “Who’s Phil?”

Paco took a breath. “My husband. My late husband. He was killed on a brigade mission three years ago.” Paco’s eyes looked haunted.

Preston’s stomach dropped. Then he thought, maybe Paco’s promiscuity was a reaction to his grief. It would make sense. “Geez, that sucks,” he said. “How long were you married?”

Paco took a deep breath. “Four years. We were together for a couple of years before that. Not enough time,” he whispered, and it seemed more to himself than to Preston. “How about you? Bachelor?”

“Divorced. She was more interested in the Ramos family money than she was me. Five long years of never-ending fighting. The divorce was a relief.”

“Ouch.” Paco made a face. “All I have left of Phil is memories, but at least they’re happy ones.”

“Tell me about him.”

The waitress delivered their dinner, and over mouthwatering food and perfectly fried almost everything, Paco waxed eloquent about Phil and how happy they’d been. “We were the envy of our friends,” he said. “Damn few couples have what we had.”

“How about your family? Did they like him?”

Paco rolled his eyes. “Not exactly. I took him home a couple of times. My mother was nice enough, but my brothers were jerks. It was one thing for me to be gay, and another entirely to be married. After the last visit I promised Phil I’d never make him go back. I returned once after Phil died, and that was to bury my mother. May her memory be a blessing,” he muttered.

“Did they disown you?”

“Not to the extent yours did. But it’s uncomfortable since Mom and Dad are gone now and my brothers are such dickwads. Mostly, I don’t bother with them, but I send my nieces and nephews gift cards for their birthdays, holidays and things like that. I miss my mom’s kosher cooking. She put a South American twist on the traditional holiday meals.”

“I bet it was delicious,” Preston said. “I have no idea what Sabina and her mother were planning to fix. She told me not to worry, they would take care of everything.”

“She ever say anything about her family traditions? Old Romani customs, family recipes, anything like that?” Paco asked.

“From what little she said, I don’t think they had many. Her parents were so determined to be good Americans, they abandoned anything that could be even loosely interpreted as Romani. They went the American as apple pie route. She ever say anything to you?”

“Not a word. Not to me, and I don’t think to anybody else in the brigade. As far as she was concerned, she was American. Even though everyone didn’t always see her as such.” Paco looked at him and raised his eyebrow.

“Guilty as charged.” Preston felt embarrassment creep up his neck to his cheeks.

Paco made a face. “At least you seem to’ve seen the error of your ways. Gotta admit, I don’t understand it, though. You had a real hard-on for her and her family, but not for anybody else. You didn’t bat an eyelash when you found out I’m Jewish or that I’m gay. What was with the other?”

Preston shook his head. “My mom grew up in a neighborhood with a pair of Romani families in the midst of a feud that spilled over onto the neighbors, which left her with some issues she and my father cheerfully passed on to me.

“Then there’s Sabina’s brother Dominic, who seems determined to live up to every negative stereotype about the Romani. My father was under the mistaken impression that Dominic had swindled Jeremy out of ten million dollars. Not that my brother, hell, my whole family, isn’t doing the same. They’re the real life examples of every soap opera about crooked businessmen.”

Paco cocked his head. “The question then becomes: have you really and truly been able to put the prejudice behind you? Do you still on some level have a problem with the Romani? I would hate to see Sabina hurt any worse than she’s already been by the shit with her brother.”

“And mine,” Preston said darkly.

“And yours,” Paco acknowledged.

Preston took a breath. “I better have. Moved past the prejudice, I mean. I’m planning to ask a Romani to marry me. Think about it. If she says yes, and I hope she does, my kids will be Romani.”

“You’re planning to ask her to marry you?” Paco asked. “And have kids? I guess that means you’re over the prejudice.”

“I guess it does.”

“Okay then. You and Sabina. Married. With kids. Wow.” Paco let out a breath. “Can you imagine the daughters you’ll have with her? Oh. My. God. Warriors, every one of them.”

“It’s crossed my mind a time or two. Sabina’s daughters. Hers and mine. Scares hell out of me and at the same time I want it—them—her so bad I can taste it.”

“Good. That means you’ll be a good husband and father. Do I need to give you the if-you-hurt-Sabina-we-will-bury-you speech?”

Preston sighed. “Paco, I’m going to hurt her and she’s going to hurt me. That’s what happens when you spend the rest of your lives together. But will I ever deliberately hurt her? Deliberately act like the asshole we both know I can be? Hell no. I love her too much for that.”

“Good.” Paco looked at him with satisfaction. “Did you buy her a ring?”

“I did.” Preston described the ring to an approving Paco. “And as you saw, I think I have the house in good enough shape she’ll be willing to move in. What I haven’t managed to do yet is figure out a romantic proposal that she’ll remember for the rest of her life. I don’t have a clue what to do about that.”

“Hmm. What were you going to do before she had to leave?”

“I hadn’t figured it out. Something that would include her parents. That’s out now.”

“You have a choice. Plan A, you can still involve others. There have been some memorable public proposals over the years.”

“You mean the banners towed by an airplane, or the proposals posted on a halftime-show jumbotron.”

“And don’t forget the Century Tree proposals up at A&M.”

“What? We couldn’t forget the Aggies.” Preston laughed.

“I was thinking mostly those with family, or a special group of friends in attendance,” Paco admitted. “You want to think in terms of one of those?”

“It’ll have to be just us. The one thing we don’t have yet is a mutual circle of friends. My friends were mostly my cousins, and other members of the family, and I’ve lost all of them. Her circle is the Brigade, who have no use for me, so I doubt they’ll want to be involved.”

“Plan B, then. You and Sabina. If it’s going to be just the two of you, the possibilities are endless,” Paco said. “A romantic dinner on the Riverwalk, or a sunset stroll on the McNay Art Museum grounds, or at a downtown rooftop bar with a view. How about dinner at the top of the Tower of the Americas, or sunrise at one of the missions? You could have a picnic at the Botanical Gardens, or in a pagoda at the Japanese Tea Garden. This town is full of romantic spots to pop the question. Or go out to Canyon Lake and rent a sailboat. Or climb to the top of Enchanted Rock and ask her there.”

“Wow. You know all the romantic spots in town.”

Paco’s eyes misted. “Phil knew every one of them. We made it a point every so often to spend some just-us time at someplace special. I loved it.”

Preston was taken aback. Who would’ve thought this hard-nosed, battle toughened soldier was romantic?

“So I need to take her to a really romantic spot to pop the question.”

“It doesn’t have to be someplace exotic. Phil and I were walking across the base. We ducked into the Quadrangle and were laughing at the peacocks when he turned to me and said, ‘Let’s get married.’ I said, ‘Sure thing,’ and we got married the following month in a ceremony in our backyard with a few of our Black-Ops teammates, Phil’s sister and her family. Colonel Bustamante wasn’t on board yet so it wasn’t ‘Bear’s Brigade’ yet.”

“Lots of possibilities,” Preston said thoughtfully.

“Of course, you can always do champagne and rose petals on your bed.” Paco snickered.

“Nah, that’s been done in every cheesy romantic comedy Hollywood ever made.”

They bounced around a few more ideas. Their waitress brought the check and after a good-natured argument Preston let Paco pay for dinner. “I appreciate the company,” Paco said when Preston thanked him. “I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

That definitely makes two of us.

Preston was deep in thought as he drove through the lighter than usual traffic. Again, he found himself liking Sabina’s teammate.

Paco was every bit as nice as Lacey and Eagle, and Paco had been a wealth of good ideas for romantic proposals. Which made the reality of the situation even sadder.

Despite Paco’s kindness, Preston doubted they would ever become friends. He knew Paco hadn’t forgotten the bad blood between them from before. The question was why Paco had reached out to him at all.

Preston was almost certain what Paco did was for Sabina’s sake, or because she’d asked him to. Whatever the reason, the man had taken a lot of the sting out of what had promised to be a lonely day, and Preston appreciated the hell out of it.