Love Is Proud Page 15

  Jack nodded. “Thought so. Hope you stay longer than the last three on this shift.”

  “I’ll do my best. Heard they had a lot of turnover.”

  A trace of crow’s feet framed the bartender’s soft brown eyes when he smiled, though with the dark hair, with not a silver hair in sight, he appeared much younger than Jack’s own forty-five years.

  “I’m Kerry by the way.”

  He lingered at the table after he refilled Jack’s coffee, casting several glances over at Jack’s mother.

  “Uh…do you have some more cream?” Jack stared blankly at the grin plastered across Kerry’s face.

  Kerry sat the coffee pot down and stretched across the bar to grab a handful of creamers. His jeans tightened across his square, firm ass. When Kerry turned around, Jack fumbled with his phone before Kerry caught him checking him out.

  Kerry plopped the handful of creamers on the table. “How come you’re not out there playing the machines?”

  He’d replaced his grin with a gentle smile. Up close, Kerry looked about thirty or thirty-five.

  “I hate this place.” Jack wrinkled his nose.

  Kerry laughed. “Then why come?”

  Jack chuckled with little humor in his heart. He flicked his head in his mother’s direction. “Guilt. If I don’t, she reminds me of how many dirty diapers she changed when I was a baby and how many sleepless nights she’s had for the last forty-five years.”

  Kerry’s belly laugh earned him a few turned heads. “Parents never let us forget what they do for us, do they?”

  “Guilt’s my mother’s best weapon.” The room grew warm.

  “So I sit here and read or play on my iPad while she gets her fix.” Jack shrugged. “Mom lives with me, too. For the most part she’s self-sufficient, but I hate the idea of her taking a bus to get here.”

  “You must be the favorite son.”

  “I’m the oldest. It’s what we do in my family.” Jack pulled away to open the creamers. “I thought bartenders preferred weekend shifts? Wouldn’t you make better tips at night?”

  “I probably would, but I need to be home in the evening hours to take care of my dad.”

  “Ah, so you’re the favorite, too.” Jack glanced at his mother. “Oh, no. Where did she get that?

  “What?”

  Jack grabbed his iPad and phone. “Thanks for the coffee, but I have to go…uh…”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, it will be, thanks again.”

  Jack slung his pack over his shoulder and marched over to where his mother held a half-eaten chocolate bar. “Grandma! What are you doing? You know you’re not supposed to have chocolate!”

  “Oh be quiet, Uncle Jack.” His mother glared. “I don’t do it often, and dark chocolate is supposed to be good for you.”

  “But it’s not good for your pacemaker.” Jack’s headache intensified.

  “John Thomas Harrison, you don’t need to give away my medical history in front of strangers!” She giggled and blushed, not bothered by Jack’s admonishment in the least.

  A handsome Hispanic man, maybe a few years younger than his mother, poked his head around the corner, smoke swirling around his head. His pencil-thin mustache twitched as he grinned.

  “Dad! Why are you smoking?”

  Kerry stalked to Jack’s side, his hands on his hips. “You know that’s bad for you.”

  The older man tapped out the cigarette, as if he were a teenager caught red-handed.

  Mentally, Jack rolled his eyes.

  “Lighten up, son. I only had a couple puffs. Nothing compared to when you took all my smokes away.”

  “A couple puffs is not nothing. You know what the doctor said.” Kerry took a deep breath and stepped toward his father.

  The older man grinned at Lydia. “I should tell you about the time I caught him smoking behind the garage.”

  “Well, Jorge, looks like the party’s over. These boys think we’re children, so I suppose I should go.”

  Jorge stood and caught his balance on wobbly legs. “I’m pleased to have met you, and I hope to see you again.”

  “We get here between noon and one every Tuesday.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “You have my number. Text me!” Lydia pulled herself up into her walker and headed for the door. “I promise I’ll text back.”

  “I guess we’re leaving.” Jack fished in his pack for his wallet. “Ah, I didn’t pay for the coffee, how much do I owe you?”

  Kerry raised his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Coffee’s on the house.”

  “Since when?”

  “We never charge for coffee. The whole designated driver thing.”

  Jack laughed. “Every other bartender in the last year has charged me at least a dollar!”

  Kerry winked and smiled. “Not really a policy of the place. I just made it up.”

  “Yeah, well…Ah, that’s nice of you. I owe you one.” Jack stuck out his hand. “Nice meeting you, and I guess I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

  They strode toward the door. “I look forward to it. Hopefully I can get my father under control by then.”

  “Good luck with that. I’ve tried to talk sense to my mother for years. They do what they want, don’t they?”

  “Seems that way.”

  At the bar, Kerry peeled off. “I’d best get back to work. Have a good week.”

  “Come on, Jack! I can’t stand here all day.”

  Jack shrugged. “Keep the coffee hot. I’ll be here Tuesday at noon.”

  Kerry gave a mock salute, and Jack hustled toward the doors, following his mother as she raced ahead of him, huffing. He loaded her into the car and turned on the air conditioner. Lydia put on a pair of sunglasses and stared out the window. “Don’t get yourself into such a tizzy over a bit of chocolate. That’s not the end of the world.”

  “I don’t understand why you can’t follow doctor’s orders.”

  “Well I can’t understand why you’re so worried about me and not taking care of yourself.”

  Touché.

  Jack drew in a deep breath. While the air conditioning cooled the car, he said the Serenity Prayer in his head, twice, before pulling out of the parking space.

  He waited to pull out. “I know, I should take better care of myself.”

  “I know it’s a constant struggle. But it’s time to get yourself out there, move on from Gerald.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that. I’m not ready yet.” They had discussed this topic ad nauseum.

  “All right, but the bartender you were talking to was cute. Do you think he’s gay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you were flirting with him.”

  Jack grinned despite himself. “I was not!”

  “Oh please. I saw you check out his butt when he reached across the bar for your creamer.”

  “Now who’s not minding her own business?”

  “It’s a mother’s prerogative to check up on her son.”

  “Listen to your own advice and stop.”

  Jack grinned at her as he pulled into the driveway. The irritation with his own reaction to his mother eating the chocolate changed into annoyance with her mention of Kerry. None of that mattered as the joy that the few brief moments with Kerry had brought him earlier that afternoon brightened his soul.

  * * * *

  “Jack, hurry up, what’s taking you…”

  He glanced out the open door to see his mother already at the car. “I’m wrapping up my laptop to take with me today.” He stuffed the laptop cord into the case and ran out the door.

  Lydia swatted the walker out of her way as she struggled to get her legs in the car.

  “Here, let me help you, Impatient.”

  “What took you so long today?”

  “I told you. I’m taking my laptop.”

  “Why? Aren’t you done writing for the day?”

  “I am, but I got my edits back from the publisher.”
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  “You did? You didn’t tell me that.”

  “They just came and I want to get going on them.”

  She narrowed her eyes and grinned at him as he got in the car. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing. Can’t I want the laptop with me?” Can’t I have reason NOT to talk to Kerry, if he’s even there.

  “You’re the worst liar ever. Good thing you’re a writer and not a lawyer.”

  “If I were a lawyer, I wouldn’t have time to take you to the Serendipity on Tuesday afternoons.”

  “Well, that suits both of us.”

  The drive from the house didn’t take long. Once there, they got out of the car and made their way into the casino.

  Jack settled Lydia in at her favorite slot machine, “Enchanting Mermen.” Before making his way to the bar. He studied the machine for a few moments and an idea popped into his head. A red-headed merman held a black-haired merman in a tight grip. To most people it probably looked like they were wrestling, but to Jack, they were cuddling.

  Maybe that’s what I’ll work on.

  Surprised to see someone else sitting in his usual seat in the bar area, Jack took a deep breath and found another where he could still keep an eye on Lydia. Anxiety tightened his chest when he saw that Kerry wasn’t there.

  “I’ll just have a cup of coffee. Can I get some creamers, too, please?”

  Kerry’s replacement provided the coffee and creamers with barely a grunt.

  It’s just as well. Kerry probably wasn’t gay anyway.

  Jack opened the laptop and stared at the screen. After thirty excruciating minutes spent the same way, a black shadow raced past Jack.

  Kerry rushed in and took his spot behind the bar. “Thanks for covering, Ted.”

  “Thanks for getting here.” The older man tossed his apron on the bar with a huff. “I’ll let you explain to my granddaughter why I missed her dance recital.”

  “Look, my dad’s in the ICU at St. Luke’s. I got here as soon as I could.” Kerry didn’t look at the guy as he tied a clean apron around his waist.

  “Sorry to hear that. Hope he’s all right.” His face red, Ted walked out without saying another word.

  The muse, Focus, drowned out the distractions of the casino as Jack dove into the words he’d written earlier in the day. After a few minutes, he glanced over to see that Kerry had his back turned with the phone to his ear. Kerry asked if the doctor had seen his father yet.

  Even though Jack sympathized with Kerry, there was a fine line between meddling and offering condolences. Jack resolved to not ask about it unless Kerry brought it up.

  Jack bowed his head at the memory of his own father’s illness and those final days of waiting for the doctor to arrive. Worse, waiting for the tests to come back. No one should have to make the tough decision to remove the ventilator like he and his mother had to.

  Jack returned to his editing and had made progress when Kerry appeared at his side. “More coffee?”

  Jack tried not to stare at the way his package formed a perfect grapefruit in his black jeans when he glanced up at Kerry.

  “Please.”

  Kerry lingered again, holding his worry in the fine lines around his eyes. “What you working on today?”

  “Just trying to get some editing done.”

  “Editing?”

  “Yeah, I’m a writer.”

  “Are you published?”

  “Yes, I write romance novels.”

  “Romance novels?”

  “To be more specific, gay romance novels.”

  Kerry made duck lips as he considered Jack’s clarification. “I never knew such a thing existed.”

  “Do you like to read?”

  “Not anymore. I’ve never found anything interesting enough. Most mainstream stuff involves straight people and the gay characters are either villainized or there for comic relief.”

  “It’s been a while since you’ve read a book!” Jack grinned.

  “What? They aren’t like that anymore?”

  “I’m sure you’ll find some stuff out there that is, but I don’t write like that. You should search my name on Amazon and take a look at my stuff.”

  Kerry put the coffee pot down on the table as far away from Jack’s electronic gadgets as he could and took his cell phone out of his back pocket. “What’s your last name again?”

  “Harrison, Jack Harrison.”

  Kerry typed in the information and stared at the screen. “Wow…you really are a writer. How long you been doing this?”

  “Ten years.”

  Kerry scrolled quickly through the list of Jack’s titles. “Which one should I read first?”

  “Read Love Comes Quietly. It’s a sweet pioneer story, one of my first.”

  Kerry tapped on his screen then put his phone away again. “I’ve never met a writer before. Maybe if it stays slow I’ll read it later.”

  Jack melted with Kerry’s adoration. “I hope you enjoy.”

  Kerry pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket and held up a finger. He pointed to the phone and with a nod, mouthed, “Sorry,” grabbed the coffee carafe, and strode to a place he could talk away from customers. Facing away from Jack, Kerry bobbed his head as he spoke.

  After several moments, Kerry combed his hair with his fingers and shook his head.

  Jack had had many conversations with his father’s doctors after a bad cold turned into pneumonia. None left him and his mother with much hope and the last words he spoke to his father were a promise to look after Lydia.

  Jack drank the cup of hot coffee faster than normal and presented his empty cup to Kerry.

  “Sorry, I try to get to my customers before they ask for a refill, no matter what the drink is.”

  “No problem. Everything okay?”

  “I’m sure it will be. My dad’s in the ICU again.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Exacerbation of his COPD—”

  “Caused by the smoking?” Jack risked a mischievous grin.

  “Exactly!” Kerry cracked a smile. “This isn’t the first time he’s ended up in the ICU, but he keeps doing the same thing to himself over and over.”

  “I’m so sorry. I know how tough it is to sit back and watch loved ones hurt themselves like that.”

  “Some people say he’s lived a long life and why shouldn’t he enjoy his last few years, but I don’t see it that way.” Kerry’s warm smile folded into a grimace, the worry and anxiety taking residence in his brows and forehead. “I wish he’d take care of himself and prolong things a bit.”

  “I understand that. That struggle is real, my friend.”

  Kerry looked up and his unexpected warm smile filled Jack with joy as he stood there, hand on his coffee cup, staring back.

  “Bartender, could I get a vodka tonic? And whatever he’s drinking.”

  Disappointment at the interruption washed over him as he turned to see his mother standing there. He rolled his eyes at Kerry.

  “Why yes, ma’am, Mrs. Harrison.”

  “Cut that Mrs. Harrison crap. That was my mother-in-law, not me.”

  Jack grinned, and Kerry bit his lip in an apparent attempt to contain his laughter.

  Jack and Lydia returned to the table. Jack closed down his laptop and put it away.

  “Are you done for the day?”

  Lydia fished a receipt out of the pocket of her walker and slid it across the table. “I think so.”

  “Three hundred, ninety-eight, and twenty—one dollars? Grandma, you hit the jackpot!”

  She shrugged. “All in a day’s work. How about we hit the buffet on the way home. How’s your father, Kerry?”

  The color washed out of Kerry’s face. “I have him settled into the St. Luke’s ICU again.”

  “Good. I was the one who told him he needed to go.”

  Lydia rose and walked toward the buffet.

  “I suppose they’ve been texting this week,” Jack said, lingering at the table. He glanced at Lydia as she m
ade her way to the restaurant.

  “I guess so. That explains a lot. I asked him if he wanted to go to the hospital this morning around nine, and he was adamant that he wouldn’t go. Then about an hour and a half later he decided I should take him.”

  “She was pretty worked up about that time. Now I know why.

  “As long as Dad’s all right.”

  “Hope so. I’d best catch up to her. See you next week?”

  * * * *

  On Saturday morning, Jack’s phone buzzed with a text from a number not in his contact list. Jack?

  Jack racked his brain trying to think if he knew the number. A long time had passed since he’d heard from any of the contacts from the hook-up apps. Yes. Who’s this?

  This is Kerry from the casino.

  Hi, Kerry.

  I read your book, it was good.

  I’m glad you liked it and thanks for letting me know.

  I posted a quick review on Amazon, said I liked it and I gave it 5 Stars.

  That’s perfect! Thanks so much for taking the time to do that, it means a lot to me. How’d you find my number?

  I found it on your website.

  The momentary flattery gave way to an image of Kerry’s father lying in an ICU bed popped into Jack’s head. How’s your dad?

  He’s doing much better and should come home tomorrow.

  The ellipses on Jack’s phone indicated Kerry was typing another message.

  That’s why I took the chance to see if you were busy tonight…this is the last night I’ll be free for a bit, do you want to go grab a bite to eat? Maybe talk about your book some more?

  An actual date. I’m sure we can find more interesting things to talk about than me…LOL…but, sure. Where?

  When he and his ex-husband, Gerald, divorced five years before, he pledged not to go out on any “dates” for a long time. He had broken that promise a few times, but for the most part, he stayed away from the men, from the hook up apps, who wanted to “make a connection” or “meet for coffee” before they had sex. How about the new Mexican Restaurant on Broadway?

  Sure. Meet you there?

  Or I can pick you up?

  Now he was ready to go out on a date. After two failed relationships from meeting people on-line, Jack vowed to only date serious guys he had met in person, preferably through friends or relatives. At least Kerry fit this definition of “having met in person.” The guy tracked down his cell phone number on the Internet, didn’t that count for something?