“Sorry?”
“You’re flying because of a funeral,” Jace said, pleased when the
passenger looked surprised.
“Well, yeah. How did you know?”
Jace adopted a pose he thought suited to Sherlock Holmes, one hand
on his chin as he tapped the side of his face with his index finger. “Your
face was sad. People never look sad when they fly, unless there is a
funeral involved.”
There it was—a shadow crossing his features. But there was conflict
as well, as if that wasn’t the entire story. A funeral was much too simple.
“Of course,” Jace pressed on, “we also get sad faces when people
leave their partners behind, although passengers usually recover from
that by the time we land.”
“Well, if you must know,” the young man said with transparent
agitation, “not only is there a funeral, but my boyfriend robbed me
yesterday, thus becoming my ex.”
“That would explain it. A double whammy.” Jace felt almost
overwhelmed. Usually his fantasies ended at the word straight. Not only
was this guy gay, but he was single as well. Jace dug two tiny bottles of
vodka from his uniform pocket and held them up. “Here, on the house.”
He tossed them to the passenger, who looked at them only long enough
to catch them before his eyes returned to Jace’s again. No doubt about it.
If booze was less interesting than he was, then he stood a chance. Time
to get personal. “My name’s Jace, by the way.”
“Your name tag says Jason.”
“I know.” Jace considered the tag with disdain. “Isn’t that mean? I
told them I wanted one that says Jace, but that’s not my legal name.
Where do they get these things, anyway? Is there a store that sells them
somewhere? That would be cool. Then I could buy my own.”
This earned him a laugh, and upon hearing it, Jace knew that once
wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to hear that happy sound again.
“Do you happen to have a name of your own?” he asked.
The passenger nodded. “Yup. But I’m afraid I left my name tag at
home.”
“So I have to guess?”
“Go for it.”
Jace rubbed his chin, scrutinizing the passenger like he had X-ray
vision. “You look like a… Yeah, no doubt about it. Your name has to be
Stephanie. Am I right?”
The passenger laughed again. “Right, but you can call me Ben.”
“That can’t be your legal name either,” Jace replied. “It must be
Benjamin?”
The smile faded, the answer tense. “Just Ben.”
Feeling like he was losing ground, Jace played the fool. “Well, it’s
very economical at least. Only three letters.”
Ben considered the tiny bottle in his hand, still somber. Then he
looked up and held one out. “Care to join me?”
“Nope. Not allowed to drink on duty.” Jace waved a hand
dismissively. “I don’t really drink anyway. I only take them because they
make such nice stocking stuffers.”
“Are there flights on Christmas?” Ben asked.
“Oh, yes,” Jace replied with same exasperated expression he used on
his family. “There isn’t a day of the year the airlines don’t serve.”
“That must suck.”
Au contraire! “It can, but this year I finagled it so I have Christmas
off.” Jace felt another pang of guilt. He’d told his parents he was
working on Christmas day, and while this shift was late enough to be
technically true, he still could have made it up there tomorrow. Or the
next day or the next, because Jace had an entire week of vacation. But
Warrensburg wasn’t where he went to unwind. Texas was his sanctuary
now. “It’ll be nice to be home again,” he said, mostly to himself.
“So you live in Houston?”
Jace blinked and returned to the present. “Yeah. You?”
Ben shook his head. “Chicago.”
“Too bad,” Jace said, and he meant it. Work took him to Chicago
enough to have an affair, but nothing more. The idea of casual
encounters didn’t appeal to him.
“I’ll probably be in town a few weeks,” Ben said, cheeks suddenly
flushed.
Of course, life was short, and a few weeks could be a very long time.
Jace smiled encouragingly, waiting for Ben to take things further. When
that didn’t happen, he decided to be more direct. “You know, there is a
strict company policy against asking passengers out on dates.”
Ben looked crestfallen. “Oh.”
“That’s not to say that you can’t ask me.”
“Oh!” Ben grinned.
Jace joined him. “Are you staying with family? Or do you have a
vacation home here?”
“A vacation home? Of course!” Ben said playfully. “But I allow my
parents to stay there. In return, they do maintenance and keep my affairs
in order.”
“How generous of you,” Jace said. “And are there set hours that you
receive visitors to your estate?”
Ben’s amusement faded. “That might be complicated, actually.
Tomorrow’s the big day, and after that… I’ll have my hands full. It’s my
best friend’s father who died.”
“I’m sorry,” Jace said quickly. “I totally disregarded the reason for
your flight.”
“No, don’t worry,” Ben said reassuringly. “I never really liked the
guy. I just want to be there for my friend, you know? Give her a shoulder
to cry on.”
“Of course,” Jace said. “Look, why don’t I give you my number, and
if you find any free time, call me. If you don’t, I’ll try not to take it
personally. I know firsthand how complicated these things can be.”
“Oh yeah?” Ben looked concerned for him, which was sweet since
they’d known each other all of five minutes.
“Yes.”
“Any advice?”
“You’ve got the right idea already. Be a sympathetic ear. Don’t tell
her it will get better or that time heals all wounds.”
“Doesn’t it?” Ben asked, but then he seemed to reconsider. “Never
mind. You’re right.”
The plane touched down, meaning Jace had work to do. With an
apologetic expression, he rose, walked through first class and deactivated
the emergency slides on the doors. While waiting for the telescopic
corridor to connect, he found a pen and scribbled down his number on a
cocktail napkin. Then he waited as the passengers disembarked, relieved
to see that Ben had waited to let the others go first. He approached Jace a
little awkwardly, face expectant.
“My number,” Jace said, brandishing the napkin.
“Thanks.” Ben accepted it.
From his bashful demeanor, Jace probably didn’t need to say
anything. The guy wasn’t swaggering at getting a phone number. Still, he
wanted to be sure. “I’m interested in hanging out. Maybe dinner or
something.”
Ben nodded. “That would be fine.”
“Good. I, uh. I just want you to know that I’m an old-fashioned girl.
I’m not looking for anything casual.”
“Understood,” Ben said. “I’ll ask my mother to play chaperone on
our first date.”
“First date implies more than one,” Jace replied.
Ben nodded again. “I know.” After a dopey grin, he turned and
walked down the gangway. Jace seriously considered abandoning the
airplane just to join him.
* * * * *
Jace awoke late on Christmas morning. Samson was already alert,
curled up in the curve of his arm. When their eyes met, the cat stood
excitedly and starting doing “happy paws” by kneading the sheets.
“It’s Christmas, Sam,” Jace said. “Were you a good boy this year?”
Samson meowed, but mostly just because he was still excited about
Jace being home again. Jace’s job kept him on the road—well, in the air
—more nights than he would prefer. While he was gone, Samson relied
on the little old lady in the first-floor apartment to take care of him. Soon
that wouldn’t be an option, since she was moving in with her daughter.
That meant having to find someone new to take care of him.
Situations like these made him wish he had a roommate. Not that his
current home would be suitable. Sitting up in the loft bed, he had a good
view of the apartment below. The walls were raw brick, the floors well-
maintained wood. Jace had fallen in love with the studio on first sight.
After the tiny rooms of the apartment he and Adrien had once chosen
together, having one large room felt like a luxury.
His job had been good to him too. The small kitchen in the corner
had everything necessary to cook—which he rarely did—and enough
remaining space for a dining room table. A couch, chair, and coffee table
—all set on an old carpet—formed the living room. Unlike his previous
apartment, this one had room enough to entertain. Not that he had as of
late. Ever since Mark, his ex-boyfriend who loved to host dinners for
anyone from close friends to people he met on the street, Jace had come
to appreciate solitude.
Enjoying his privacy was the day’s agenda. Climbing down the bed’s
ladder, he turned to watch Samson make his usual daredevil jump, flying
through the air and landing on the couch. Then they walked to the fridge,
where Jace had moved a small wrapped package from the freezer the
night before.
“Look what Santa Claws left you!” he said.
Just as well that Mark had found someone new. Jace was steadily
becoming one of those people. Like a proud father, he talked about Sam
to his coworkers, even carrying a photo of the cat in his wallet. He fretted
if his flights were late, delaying his return, and always called once a day
to make sure everything was fine back home.
Grabbing the wrapped package, he shut the refrigerator, eyeing for a
moment the child’s drawing on the door: a cat, wearing a red suit and
surrounded by blue crisscross snowflakes. Below were two illegible
words, beneath which his sister’s handwriting clarified their meaning.
Santa Claws. Great. Not only was he becoming a crazy cat guy, but his
madness was spreading. Still, he loved that his niece had thought of him,
especially since he wasn’t around much.
“Sorry, Emma,” Jace said to himself. “Your uncle is busy feeling
sorry for himself.”
But he wasn’t feeling sad. Not here, so far away from it all.
Unwrapping the package with Samson revealed the two salmon steaks
Jace had bought for this occasion. Samson didn’t seem impressed until
Jace started pan-searing them. Taking Samson’s steak out while it was
still raw in the center, he added whisked eggs to the pan. Soon he and
Samson were enjoying breakfast together.
Afterwards, he sat on the floor and emptied the stocking he’d stuffed
for Samson. Once the living area was littered with toy mice and treats,
Jace allowed himself a long lazy soak in the bathtub. He passed the rest
of the day in a similar manner, taking everything slow, wasting every
single minute on luxury. The dishes could wait until tomorrow. Even the
presents sent from home could be opened some other time. All Jace
wanted to do was play with Samson and read. And find some takeout
later if anything was open.
The afternoon had come to an end, Jace dozing on the couch, when
the buzzer sounded. Curious… Who could be at the door? His friends all
had plans, and he didn’t think Mark was ever coming back. Maybe it was
the old woman downstairs, checking up on him. If so, why would she be
ringing the bell outside the building? The door buzzed again. Sighing,
Jace stood and walked to the door, pushing the button for the intercom.
“Hello?”
There was no answer, but he thought he heard a giggle.
“Hello?” he tried again.
Nothing. Maybe the intercom was on the blink. Jace pushed the
button to unlock the front door, listening to the cage elevator as it
rumbled down. When it was on its way back up, his jaw dropped when
he saw was who was inside. A woman. And a very young lady. The
woman was glaring, the young lady beaming with delight.
“Busy flying the friendly skies?” Michelle asked as she hobbled out
of the elevator.
“I worked this morning,” Jace said, grinning despite the accusation.
“What are you doing here?”
Emma latched herself onto his legs. “Merry Chrissmiss, Uncah
Jace!” She was still young enough that she constantly slurred her speech,
sounding like a toddler who’d had one too many.
“Merry Christmas,” he replied. “Did you drink too much eggnog?”
“She does not sound drunk,” Michelle scolded, but she smiled as
Jace ushered them in. “Wait until you hear Preston. All he does is
scream. I swear he’s a crack baby.”
“You’re a terrible mother,” Jace teased.
“Says the horrible uncle.”
They hugged, Jace being careful not to squeeze against her swollen
belly. “I had no idea that Number Three was so big already!”
“Tell me about it,” Michelle said. “Two more months, and then I’m
shutting down this baby factory.”
Jace kept an arm around her as she wobbled to the couch and
plopped down, sighing with relief. “How did you get here? Where are the
others?”
“Greg has Preston. He wanted to drive around the neighborhood a
few times before he came in. You know how he is these days. It’s all
about real estate.”
Greg’s land development plans had never come to fruition, but he
had fostered a successful career in real estate. That Greg oozed charm
when he wanted certainly helped, as did the television commercials that
caught the attention of wives and single women alike. The last time Jace
had driven through Warrensburg, numerous signs were stuck in front
yards, advertising homes for sale, a photo of Greg’s smiling face in the
corner of each.
“Does he still have the mustache?”
“Oh my god!” Michelle looked exasperated. “Not only does he still
have it, but he’s gone full handlebar. He’s been into cop movies lately.
He looks like one of the Village People.”
Jace grinned. “Hot!”
“It’s so not,” his sister replied. “If you want to give me one thing for
Christmas, talk him into shaving it off.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Jace said. He glanced over at Emma, who
was chasing Samson around the apartment. “So you guys came all this
way to see me?”
“Of course. That’s what the holidays are about.”
Jace frowned.
“That wasn’t meant to make you feel guilty,” Michelle said. “I get
why Warrensburg is hard for you this time of year. Greg understands too.
He’s the one who pointed out that we could visit you.”
“So you drove down?”
His sister nodded. “Had Christmas with the kids early in the morning
and then loaded them up. My sisterly instincts told me you might be
