Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Ansel followed his gaze and a wistful smile softened his features. “Yeah, thanks. It feels right.”
Z had missed the last Sunday dinner and being away made him realize just how special these times together really were. How hard Ansel always worked to keep them all together.
“It’d suit you too, you know.” Ansel’s voice was clear but gentle.
“Not all of us are cut out for picket fences.”
“What are we talking about?” Fitch returned from the kitchen with three cans of cold soda. He handed one to Z, sat on the bench, placed the other two cans on the table, and pulled Ansel onto his lap.
“Swallowing a spoonful of cinnamon,” Z said.
“Being in a relationship,” Ansel said.
Fitch kissed Ansel’s shoulder but spoke to Z, “I thought you were immune to love?”
Z bit his lip and studied the various shades of roses edging the patio. He had been, he still was. What he’d had with Connelly wasn’t love.
He didn’t know what love was.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“I’m back.” Z sat across from Sal. The scent of soapy water and hot oil permeated everything in the room but it wasn’t unpleasant. Z’s sense memory associated the diner perfume with all things good and kind—Sal’s crooked smile and rosy cheeks, the meals he’d left out for Z so many years ago, and even the job Z had cherished since he’d gotten off the streets.
It gave him a feeling of normalcy that he’d been missing and he was grateful.
“You are, are you?” Sal scratched his cheek and eyed Z’s foot. “How can I be sure you’re not rushing things?”
“I’m not going to bring you a fucking doctor’s note so you’re just gonna have to trust me.”
Sal huffed. “Maybe I don’t.”
“Come on, just put me back to work. I know you’re short-staffed.”
A long sigh shuffled papers on the old man’s desk. “Fine, but I don’t want to hear any complaining, and if you drop anything there’ll be hell to pay.”
Z’s lips twitched. “Sure thing, boss.”
Sal handed over his new schedule and they chatted for a few more minutes. Z let it slip that he was apartment hunting.
“My sister-in-law’s brother’s kid is looking for a roommate. He just broke up with his girlfriend and needs someone to cover her half of the rent. He lives near Bryant Park, a two-bedroom with a balcony, galley kitchen and wood floors.”
“Will your sister-in-law’s brother’s kid be okay living with a flamboyant gay-boy like me?”
“You planning on seducing him?”
“Nope. I’ve got no interest in straight boys.”
They made arrangements for Z to see the apartment. At the door, Z turned. “Um, boss? I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me over the years. Thanks for not firing me even though I’m a pain in the ass.”
Sal’s reply was a single nod of his bald head and a quick bob of his Adam’s apple.
Step one of getting his life back? Accomplished. He’d even accepted help. He metaphorically patted his own back. Making changes, growing up, being an adult—he was proud. It was past time. He wouldn’t wallow anymore.
* * *
Connelly stared at the menu of his and Raoul’s newest lunch experiment and frowned. What he wouldn’t give for Sal’s grilled chicken with extra mayo right now. It seemed like everything was covered in truffles, and they didn’t even have hot-fudge sundaes.
The week after the raid had been frustrating as hell for Connelly. The Midtown North boys had finally found Keller. It hadn’t taken them long to get a confession which included the name of his employer. Fucking Castor Stavros.
As soon as he’d heard that news, Connelly had wanted to howl. Satisfaction, anger and jealousy had soured his stomach for days.
The prosecutor thought the case was a slam dunk and that was before they made a deal with Lirim Savage.
In return for his testimony, Savage would get his sentence reduced in a mandatory rehab facility upstate. It helped that he had less than an eighth of an ounce of low-grade cocaine on him at the time of arrest. Plus, he had no priors.
Connelly might have also told the DA how helpful Savage had been in the apprehension of Castor to help facilitate the deal. He’d felt bad that the guy had gotten arrested. Maybe some of that guilt was because of Azariah. What was he talking about, maybe? Hell, it was definitely because of Azariah. Everything he did was because of Azariah these days. The only thing he could think about was the disappointment in those onyx eyes.
He’d called numerous times since their fight on the street, left a dozen apology messages. Even tried finding Azariah at his apartment, but he hadn’t been home and Mrs. Duncan said he was moving.
He’d helped Savage in a lame attempt at making amends even though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
“You look like someone just killed your puppy. It’s just lunch, Boy Scout.”