Page 7 of New Year (Reconstruction #3)

CHAPTER FIVE

Zack kept an eye open for Shelton’s arrival to work that evening, and he asked Shelton to meet him in his office. “You are not in any trouble,” Zack said before he began closing the office door. No one liked being called into the boss’s office; it was probably a fear most adults possessed, left over from visiting the principal’s office as a child.

“That’s a relief, since I haven’t done anything wrong,” Shelton replied.

The testy response rolled right off Zack. “In case you’ve been worrying about your friend Natty, don’t. He’s in a safe place.”

“Really? You found him?”

“Completely by accident.” Zack gave him an even more condensed summary of last night than he’d given Chase. Just the major moments, none of the emotional or personal details.

Shelton glared. “He’s staying at your place in exchange for what? Boss?”

“Listen, I understand exactly what Nat was doing last night, and I have an idea of what went on when you met him. But let me assure you that I have no desire to take advantage of Nat or the trust he is giving me. If you need it put more bluntly, I am not”—he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper—“ever going to demand sex from Nat in exchange for my sofa. That’s not who I am.”

Shelton held eye contact for a long time before looking away. “I believe you. I think Chase would have done the same thing, if he was still working full-time. You guys seem different, but you’re more alike than what’s on the surface.”

“Well, since Chase is one of the best people I’ve ever known, his occasional lack of filter aside, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one. It’s never easy when a new general manager takes over a place that’s been running well for a lot of years, but—and I can only speak for myself here—it helps that he respects you so much. Helps me trust and respect you, too, boss.”

“I appreciate that. I have worked in a lot of restaurants in my career, and I’ve met thousands of people in my lifetime. Change is rarely easy, but it’s often inevitable.”

“That’s the damned truth. I wish I could do more to help Nat out of his situation, but I’ve got my own stuff going on.”

“It’s all right. You did what you could when you could. Right now, I’m in the position to help him, so I’m helping.” Shelton didn’t need any deeper explanation than that. He was an employee with a good heart, but that’s all he was. Not a friend, or someone Zack had any business further confiding in.

“Thank you for telling me. I better get my section set up.”

“Have a good service tonight, Shelton.”

“You, as well.”

Around three, Zack texted Chase and asked how the day was going so far. He didn’t worry when Chase took almost thirty minutes to respond, and that was only because he knew Chase wasn’t alone.

Chase: Going great. Safe driver, very cautious. I’m walking him through a proper Bolognese sauce for supper.

Zack chuckled. Of course, Chase was going to try teaching Nat how to cook. But it also made sense. As Chase’s control over his own arms and hands failed him, he would need someone else to be those hands. To prepare his meals and help him dress. When Zack helped Nat up off the ground last night, he hadn’t intended to bring home a caregiver for his ailing friend.

But fate seemed to have other plans.

Zack: I hope he’s a good student. Save a plate for me.

Chase: You wish.

Typical.

Happy that Chase had someone to keep his mind occupied and confident that Zack’s instincts about Nat had been correct, Zack set is mind back to dinner service and got to work.

* * *

Nat was a terrible cook. He’d admit as much to anyone who asked—and probably even if they didn’t ask. Growing up, his mother hadn’t been much of a cook. They’d relied on frozen meals, takeout, and the generosity of others cooking for them whenever Nat was sick. Which was often, and by design.

In college, he’d relied on the cafeteria and various restaurants near campus. He could competently nuke anything frozen, and his old phone had every possible delivery app on it, but anything more complicated than opening a can of soup typically ended in something barely edible. So, the idea of making Pasta Bolognese from scratch, with a professional chef, was so far beyond intimidating Nat wasn’t sure he was awake and not dreaming.

After his appointment, Chase had asked to stop by a specialty grocery market that Nat had driven by but never shopped in. They’d picked up all sorts of ingredients, including fresh pasta and a bottle of wine. The total cost socked Nat right in the wallet, but it wasn’t his money. Not his place to judge how Chase spent his money in whatever time he had left.

Once they arrived back at Chase’s house, Nat had expected to be told his help was no longer needed, that he’d done well (or even that he’d sucked and Chase had no interest in hiring him), and sent away until Zack eventually came home. Instead, Chase had invited him inside and begun giving him step-by-step instructions on making dinner, starting with properly washing his hands.

Chase streamed music, an eclectic mix of songs, some of which Nat recognized and many he didn’t, but they were upbeat and fun. It was great background while Nat received his first crash course in semi-gourmet cooking. They didn’t talk about anything serious, for which Nat was grateful. He enjoyed spending time with someone who didn’t seem to want anything from him except his company.

Nat didn’t completely trust his instincts when it came to people anymore, but Chase seemed like a genuine person. He flirted up a storm, but Nat had no actual fear that Chase would attack him. Or demand sexual favors in exchange for his kindness.

Maybe even his friendship?

They ate the delicious pasta at the formal dining table. Nat wasn’t a huge fan of wine, but it tasted good with the meat sauce, so he drank the glass Chase offered him. Chase had his own, but he slowly sipped at it, leaving most behind when he went to relax in his recliner, while Nat filled the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen counters. In a strange way, it had almost been like cooking dinner with his father. Not that Nat remembered his father at all. Chase was simply the warm, funny, generous kind of person he wished he’d had for a father.

Zack, meanwhile, was the sexy next-door-neighbor Nat couldn’t stop thinking about.

Once the kitchen was clean and Nat had nothing left to do, he stood awkwardly by the dining table, uncertain. “Um, is there anything else you need tonight, Chase?”

“Come over here and watch TV with me,” Chase replied. “I’m used to spending six days a week with other people. This alone stuff is crap.”

Alone stuff really was crap. Nat smiled and shuffled into the living room. “Depends on what we’re watching.”

“Host’s choice, of course. Come sit, please. Zack won’t be home for a few hours yet, and there’s no sense in you sitting outside on the porch in this heat. You have been an exceptional companion today, Nathaniel.”

“Thank you.” Nat eased onto the couch. “It’s strange feeling needed.”

“No more strange than needing someone else around after being independent for most of my adult life. But as human beings, we’re social creatures, and not truly meant to be alone for long periods of time.” Chase fiddled with his TV remote. “At first, I hated Zack for suggesting I hire daytime help. I abhorred the idea of some trained nursing aide coming in here. Someone who’d monitor every drink of water, every shit I took, and act like a goddamn hospice nurse.”

“That’s what you were looking at applications for?”

“Those are the folks who were applying, and God bless them for their compassion and experience, but it’s not what I want. I just want…”

“A friend you can teach how to cook your favorite dishes, and then watch TV with after?”

“Precisely.” Chase ran a hand through his hair, leaving it messy and fluffed out, not unlike the photos of Albert Einstein Nat remembered from school. “How did you feel about today? Because you are not beholden to me in any way. I can’t imagine you ever gave this sort of companionship job serious thought.”

Nat tried not to bristle, but he was used to people underestimating him when they learned he hadn’t finished college, and that he’d been a server for years. He kind of was a stereotype, so he couldn’t fault Chase for thinking of him as one. “I’ve given a lot of different careers a lot of thought. My freshman year at Reynolds College, I was actually a journalism major. I thought I wanted to write stories exposing people for the horrible things they’d done, but I realized I’d probably only ever work in local news. I briefly flirted with medicine, but I’m not great in chemistry or higher math.”

“And then you were just trying to survive?”

“Pretty much.”

“Would you go back if you could?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I have a lot of credits, but nothing that would really get me a degree yet. I did like being a server, because I got to meet a lot of people and be social, but it’s really hard work. I don’t know if I wanna still be doing that in ten years.”

“Understandable. Front of house service is a difficult but honorable profession. I’ve worked with hundreds of servers in my career. Some of them are excellent, most are good, and others are absolute disasters.”

“Well, I’m a good server, it’s just my personal life that’s a disaster.”

“And that’s why Zack and I are trying to help you. Today went very well, so what if we keep working together for a few more days? I don’t need help all day. Some days I might not need help at all. But we’ll see how it goes and if you find some value in the experience. Some folks get bored and frustrated when there isn’t always something to do.”

“I thought you hadn’t had a helper yet.”

“I didn’t. But when I was about your age, my grandfather was passing slowly at home, and he required round-the-clock care. Since my mother and her siblings all had careers and families of their own, they used an agency. I did my best to visit in between my own schooling, and one young lady who didn’t last very long was…well, abysmal at the job. She was newly married, and I believe she quit the profession entirely once she got pregnant.”

“Well, there’s no chance of me having to quit from pregnancy.”

Chase hooted laughter, a much different sound than Zack’s laughter. Higher pitched, mirthful and more like a pat on the head than a warm hug. Zack’s laugh was a warm hug. “Good to know, but you understand my point? About boredom?”

“I get it. I do like the faster pace of working in a restaurant, but even there we have slow times. And I’m not afraid of downtime. I like the idea of us working together for a few more days. To see if I’m good enough.”

“Then let’s do that.”

“Okay.”

Chase smiled at him for a long moment, as if sealing their deal in silence, and then picked up the remote. Began scrolling until he found a program. Nat had never heard of Mysteries of the Abandoned , but it didn’t matter. It looked interesting, so he settled in to watch the show. The comfort and cool air in the apartment relaxed Nat more than he’d been in ages, and he didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he was being shaken awake.

The house was quiet and mostly dark, and Zack was smiling down at him from the shadows. “Hey,” he said softly. “I hate to wake you, but I think my sofa is a little more comfortable than this one.”

Nat stretched, and the sharp ache in his neck clued him in to how he’d fallen asleep against the arm of Chase’s couch. Spreading out on Zack’s sofa bed, lumps and all, was definitely a better option. “S’okay. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Shouldn’t have.”

“If Chase had needed you, he’d have woken you. Come on.”

“You’re sure he’s okay?”

“He texted me before he went to bed.”

Zack reached out. Nat took his hand and let Zack pull him off the couch. Nat’s left foot was asleep, and he stumbled into Zack’s side. He also didn’t resist when Zack looped his arm around Nat’s back. They left Chase’s house and crossed the small porch to Zack’s. Nat’s bed was in the same rumpled state as he’d left it that morning, which was kind of embarrassing, but made it easy to collapse into after using Zack’s bathroom.

“Sweet dreams, Nat.” Zack’s voice was somewhere in the room. The lights flicked out, and Nat settled in the darkness, comfortable and exhausted.

Nat mumbled a similar sentiment, pictured Zack’s smiling face, and drifted. Safe and content and, for the first time in ages, hopeful for tomorrow.

* * *

Nat hadn’t woken up that fateful Sunday morning, sweating and damp behind a stack of old shipping pallets, expecting for his life to change. Most mornings, he woke up expecting his life to abruptly end in some violent way. For the last five mornings, he wok up in a semi-comfortable sofa bed, cool and rested, with access to a shower and food. And most importantly, he woke up safe and hopeful.

Being someone’s personal assistant (he kind of hated the terms carer, nurse, or aide) had been nowhere on his list of possible jobs once he’d chosen homelessness and hiding, but he loved it. Chase didn’t need the kind of medical care that required a degree or certificate. He just needed someone to listen, to converse with, and to help Chase with daily tasks that were unmanageable on his own.

They’d come up with a fair salary, and Nat finally had a cell phone. And an expanded wardrobe. He’d even gone out to see Sasha at her job and get her phone number. She’d given him Bud Maher’s number, too, in case he changed his mind about working for them again. Four contacts weren’t many, but it was a start. He was re-attached to the wider world. He even made new social media accounts with fake info, so he could participate without being discovered.

Friday evening, he was in the odd position of being released from work by Chase at four o’clock, and Zack had given Nat a key to his place this morning, so Nat could come and go as he pleased while Zack was at work.

Nat had no idea what the fuck to do with himself. No boyfriend to appease. No curfew. No burning need to flaunt his ass and earn some quick cash.

Chase’s house was only a block from a bus stop, so Nat got on and just…rode around. He tried to take in Reynolds the way Zack might have when he first arrived, a newcomer discovering things, adjusting to the layout and major landmarks. One of the landmarks Nat loved was Neighborhood Shindig.

Built on a whole city block, Neighborhood Shindig was an outdoor space with six stationary food trucks, over a dozen different small, local businesses, and a pavilion in the middle for people to gather, eat, and listen to live music on the weekends. It was popular, not just with the college students, but with pretty much everyone who lived in Reynolds. Nat had eaten from all the current food truck concepts, and everything he tried was fantastic. He’d browsed the businesses, too, but he wasn’t really into herbal tea or artisan bath bombs.

The fundraiser for Tim’s had been held there, but Nat had missed it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d visited Shindig, so when the bus stopped nearby, Nat got off. The property was surrounded by a tall, cement-block fence, with a large gate in front that opened at nine a.m. and closed at ten p.m.. It wasn’t quite dinnertime, but it was Friday, so the place was full of shoppers and early diners.

A sharp pang of fear twisted his stomach as he walked through the gate. Not so much because of where he was, but because of all the people. Because Austin had brought him here a few times for the gourmet grilled cheese truck in the back left corner. Austin could be anywhere in the crowd, watching, waiting for his chance to hurt Nat again.

Don’t let him keep taking from you.

Nat straightened his spine and continued forward, forcing confidence he didn’t feel into each step he made toward the nearest store. Someone told him they were called pods, which seemed odd, since they looked more like large sheds than anything pod-like, but it wasn’t his business. It was a used book shop called Jack and the Bookstore. The illustration on the sandwich board sign outside suggested the name was a play on “Jack and the Beanstalk.”

As a child, Nat’s closest friends had been movies and books. Movies kept him company during his sickest days, when all he could do was lie in bed and suffer with something entertaining playing on television. Books were for his good days, when he could sit up without nausea, focus on the words, and get lost in other people’s adventures. He’d loved fantasy and science fiction the most, because it took him out of the hell he was living in, and let him explore brand new worlds.

He hadn’t read much in the last few years, but he still adored books. The store was a touch claustrophobic, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filling every spare inch of the available space. The owner, Jack, did business on a barstool with an attached table for his tablet. Nat returned Jack’s greeting as he entered, not really looking for anything specific. Mostly happy to be doing something as normal as browsing a bookstore.

Nat eventually found himself in a section of all mass-market paperbacks. After a moment, he realized it was a bookcase full of romance novels, based on the titles and the abundance of Harlequin logos on the spines. Nat didn’t believe in romance or in happy endings, but he did believe in moments. Individual moments of pure joy that gave the illusion that happy endings might be possible.

He dragged his finger along a row of titles and randomly stopped. Pulled the book off the shelf. The cover, title and author name meant nothing, so he flipped it over. And his heart soared as he read the description on the back. It was a romance novel about two men who overcame personal challenges as they fell in love.

If only life was as simple as a romance novel.

Nat held onto the book and scoured the shelves for others like it, and he had three when he paid Jack for them. A couple of fictional happy endings were a good way to spend his down time, now that he had some. And they wouldn’t take up too much space in his pack if he had to bug out in the immediate future. Not that he thought he might. Zack’s sofa bed wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but he’d seen no indication that he would be kicked out.

He was just used to losing everything good in his life, so he had no reason to think he could keep anything.

“How have you been doing since February?” Jack asked as he entered the transaction on his tablet. “You look good.”

“Thanks. I’m doing okay.” The scrape on his face from last weekend had mostly healed, and the other fading bruises were under his clothes. “Thanks for asking.” Nat was a little tired of it, though, being recognized as “that guy who got blown up in that bar.” But it had been huge news in Reynolds, so his face had inevitably ended up on TV and all over social media.

Nat just wanted to be anonymous again.

“Not a problem.” Jack handed him his books. “I read all these. They’re really good.”

“Awesome.”

“You know my trade-in policy, yeah?”

“Yup, thanks again.”

Nat tucked the books under his arm and left. Jack had a pretty cool return policy: keep the receipt and bring them back within sixty days, and he gave back half the sale price in store credit. Nat didn’t read fast enough to utilize it, but he imagined it was damn popular with avid readers struggling to make ends meet. Especially people their age.

He circled Shindig, reading the various food truck menu boards, trying to decide what he wanted for dinner. Everything sounded and smelled amazing. He ended up at the nacho truck, partly because their Garbage Nachos were calling his name, and because the truck was run by super-hot male triplets.

While Nat had waited on the brothers before at Tim’s, he didn’t come here often enough to tell them apart on sight, except for Jayden, who was shorter and slimmer than the other two. But each triplet had the letter of their first name stitched to the corner of their matching polos, which was awesome. Keenan stood outside, taking orders, handling money, and chatting up the patrons. Someone had once described the brothers as resembling Marvel Phase One era Chris Evans, but with dark-brown hair and a five o’clock shadow, and Nat could see it.

Keenan, naturally, recognized him immediately and offered a gentle fist bump. “Hey, dude, it’s great to see you. Been shopping?” He pointed at the books under Nat’s arm.

“Yeah, I’ve got some down time, so I figured I’d find a better way to fill it than endlessly doom-scrolling on my phone.”

“I hear you. What’cha feeling for dinner?”

“Garbage Nachos, please.”

Keenan took care of the order, and Nat was glad they still accepted cash. Nat needed to open a bank account again, now that he was making real money working for Chase. A lot of places only took plastic nowadays, which made life difficult for someone trying to stay as anonymous as possible. If cash ever went away completely, victims fleeing abusive situations would be royally screwed.

“So what have you been up to?” Keenan asked, so casually it sounded genuine, rather than gossipy. One thing Nat knew about a lot of the food truck vendors here was that they were big gossips. They were also loyal to each other as a group, like a big, found family. Something Nat was insanely jealous of.

“This and that,” Nat replied, not sure how to answer the question. Physically, he was fully recovered from the explosion. Mentally, he was still a mess from PTSD, Austin’s abuse, and his own time on the streets. But he wasn’t hooking anymore. He had a real job now. “I actually just started a new job as a helper to someone with a physical condition that limits their mobility.”

“That’s amazing, man. Wow. Big career change from being a waiter.”

“It is, and it kind of fell into my lap, so to speak. But I really like the man I’m working for, and it’s kind of fulfilling, in a way.”

“I bet. People who can do that job? Like nurses and shit? They got my respect for sure.”

“They have my respect, too.”

“Garbage Nachos,” Laughlin said from inside the truck. “Hey, Nat, great to see you.”

“Hey, and thanks.” Grateful to have food as an excuse to disengage from the conversation, Nat accepted the paper tray of food and a plastic fork, and then turned to find a spot at one of the picnic tables to enjoy the colorful mess in his hands.

He loved the idea of the Garbage Nachos. It was simply a mix of everything they offered on any given day. The base was both the traditional corn chip and tater tots, plus every single topping. He spotted pulled pork and ground beef beneath the sea of cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and black olives. It made the fork necessary and consumption extremely messy.

But good lord, it was delicious. He found a seat that allowed his back to face one of the pavilion’s support beams, so no one could sneak up behind him. It gave him a good view to people watch while he ate. To just…exist in public without fearing attack. To be a normal person for a little while.

Nat had just tossed his trash and was contemplating a soda from one of the various vending machines when his phone rang. He was so unused to being called that he actually jumped, heart pounding a little bit harder.

“Dumbass,” he muttered to himself as he pulled his cell out of his pocket. He only had a handful of contacts, so the unknown number didn’t surprise him. It was a Reynolds exchange, though, and not Austin’s.

Austin could have bought a burner phone just to fuck with you. Don’t answer it.

He declined the call and waited. The voice message notification pinged.

Is it a telemarketer? Is it a threat? Just delete it, idiot!

Nat glanced around, but no one was paying any attention to the little drama playing out in his head. He hated how scared he was to listen to a message. But he couldn’t keep living in fear. Coming out tonight was precisely about finding his courage again. Being in the world, rather than existing adjacent to it.

He played the message.

“Natty Dog! It’s Angelo. How the fuck are you, guy? You dropped off the face of the planet, but I ran into Sasha today, and she told me she’d seen you and gave me your number. Call me back so I know you’re doing okay. Please? Seriously, please call me.”

Hot relief rumbled through Nat’s chest so hard and fast his hands shook. It wasn’t Austin calling to threaten him. It was a friend who truly gave a damn about Nat, even after Nat essentially ghosted him for two months after the fundraiser.

He saved the contact, found a quieter spot by the perimeter fence, and called back.

“Hey, Nat, you’re alive!” Angelo said, answering before the second ring. His warm voice was everything Nat had used to love hearing, purring to him after sex, or just over a lunchtime phone call. “I am so fucking happy to hear your voice again.”

Nat laughed. “You haven’t heard it yet.”

“I did when I left my message. You changed the greeting from your old number.”

“Sometimes change is good.”

“I hear that. But sometimes too much change at once can be incredibly stressful. I’m going out on a limb and guessing you’ve had too much?”

Nat closed his eyes and leaned against the smooth, cement wall. “Honestly, Angelo? My life has been a mess for a while, the explosion kind of made it all worse, and I just…” He remembered himself and that he shouldn’t be dumping his shit on his ex. Even if he considered said ex to be a friend. “It’s been a lot, but I’m getting out from under it.”

“I’m glad. I won’t lie, Nat, I’ve been really worried about you. I know we weren’t together for very long and—wait, you’re in a safe place to talk, right?”

“I’m safe.” And he adored his friend for asking. It was something Zack would do, and his insides warmed pleasantly at the mental image of Zack smiling at him this morning over their breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. He absolutely felt safe in Zack’s home. He trusted Zack and Chase not to screw him over.

And Nat didn’t deal his trust out lightly.

“Okay, good,” Angelo said. “Honestly, I’ve been worried about you since we ran into each other at that convenience store. Can I do anything?”

Fuck no, dude, I dumped you to keep you safe.

“Thank you for asking, I mean it, but I’m okay. I have a new job and a safe place to stay.”

“Good. You deserve all that.”

“Thanks. How are you and Bryan doing? Are you guys still together?”

Around the time of the fundraiser, Nat had found out Angelo was actually dating Bryan Gillespie, who was supposed to have been just his roommate. Nat wasn’t sure how that had all shaken out, but whatever made them happy.

“We are,” Angelo replied, “and we’re amazing. We’re hoping to take a vacation sometime before the summer’s over, but nothing is coming together yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it happen. You tend to get whatever you set your mind on.” From their first introduction at Tim’s last fall, Nat could tell Angelo had wanted him. Every smile, every comment, even his body language. And Nat had wanted him right back. Angelo was the older, stable, commanding presence Nat had needed. But they weren’t endgame, and he truly was happy for Angelo and Bryan.

Jealous over what Nat didn’t have, but happy for what they did have.

“Tell me I’ll see you at Tim’s grand reopening, at least,” Angelo said.

“Have they set a date?”

“They’re still waiting on the city’s certificate of occupancy, but they’re hoping for next Friday. The twenty-first.”

Nat’s insides shivered with both excitement and dread. Excitement that the bar he’d loved was finally going to open its doors to patrons; dread that he could very easily run into Austin there, if Nat dared attend the reopening. Or go ever back, at all.

Think about it. We’re taking back our life, remember?

“I’ll do my best,” Nat hedged. “I really will try to stop by.”

“Good. I won’t keep you from whatever you’re doing. I’m fucking thrilled to hear from you again, and I really hope I see you next weekend.”

“Thank you for caring, Angelo. See you around.”

Nat ended the call before his emotions got the best of him, and he blurted out something embarrassing. Or dangerous. Angelo didn’t need his drama. He’d been in the explosion, too, and he had his own life to deal with. Nat could handle his own shit.

He had no other choice.