Chapter 7 #2
“Holy shit.” Saint pulled into one of the parking spaces.
The only other vehicle there was Val’s SUV.
Where was Frank? And how the hell had Val snagged himself a property in this district?
Some of the buildings around here were worth millions.
Saint grabbed his duffel bag and got out.
He closed the door and set the alarm as he took in the one-story structure that resembled a house, much like most of the shops and restaurants in the area.
There was no sign yet, and although it still looked abandoned, Saint could see the incredible potential, especially with the wrap-around porch. He could easily picture strings of tiny bright white lights decorating it as people enjoyed a beer or a cocktail outside in the cooler months.
Val had texted Saint the address to the tavern this morning and told him to meet him there for a tour. Saint had no idea what to expect, but he was excited for Val. He walked up to the door and knocked.
“Yeah?” Val called out from inside.
Saint smiled. “It’s me, Chief.”
A lock was unlatched, and the door opened. Saint almost swallowed his tongue. Man, had he called it or what? Val stood in a faded black Ramones T-shirt, well-worn jeans, and work boots.
Saint snickered. “You got something in your hair.” He stepped in and ruffled Val’s hair, removing the drywall dust particles.
“Yeah, that shit’s everywhere,” Val said. “Hope you’re not wearing any of your good clothes.”
Saint closed the door behind him. “Nope.” He looked around. “Where’s Frank?”
“I told him he could head out since you were on your way. Knowing him, he sat in his car on the side of the road and waited until he saw you.” Val shook his head in amusement. “Stubborn.”
Like Val wouldn’t have done the same for Frank. “Wow. This place is bigger on the inside than it looks.”
“It’s pretty spacious, but that’s because there’s nothing in it right now.
Once the bar goes in, the stools, booths, tables, and chairs, it won’t look so big.
” He turned to his left to a walled-off section with an open doorway.
“That’s the kitchen.” Turning, he pointed to another smaller walled-off area.
“Those are the bathrooms.” He turned and pointed.
“That’s where my office is going to go.” He turned again.
“That’s a wall.” Once more. “That’s another wall, and wait for it…
.” He turned to the front. “That’s also a wall.
Thanks for joining me on this tour. If you’d like more information, you can visit our gift shop. ”
Saint snickered. “Ass.” He dumped his bag in the corner where there seemed to be less dust. There were drop cloths everywhere, along with several gallons of something.
On one side, Val had set up a long workbench that had a toolbox and more supplies.
He’d also brought a mini fridge that he’d plugged into the wall.
“So, how long have you been working on this?”
“I’ve worked on and off for three years.”
“Must have been expensive as hell.”
“Not really. This had been a donut place for decades. One day, one of the thermostats malfunctioned and a deep fryer started a fire. Thankfully, no one was inside at the time. The whole place went up in flames. We were able to save the structure, but the inside was a complete loss. The owner was an older gentleman, really sweet. Anyway, he didn’t have it in him to start over.
He just wanted to retire and spend time with his grandkids.
“When we were outside, he jokingly asked me if I was interested in buying a slightly singed building, and I said yes.” Val shrugged, the genuinely happy smile squeezing Saint’s heart.
“I don’t know what made me say it, but once I had, it felt right.
So, he sold it to me for far less than it was worth.
I tried getting him to accept more, even in its state, but he patted my cheek and said, ‘It’s yours now. Make good memories.’”
“That’s amazing. What a way to start your business, huh?”
“Yeah. I spent a lot of weekends here. It took a long time to get it cleaned up. Luckily it was winter then, so we could get some good work in without getting baked. Some of the guys from the firehouse helped me. Then the time finally came when I could start. I tore down the curtain walls that weren’t needed and did the kitchen area and the bathrooms, but I had professionals come in to do the electrical installation, plumbing, and the floor since it’s a special cement flooring.
AC was at the top of my list. You couldn’t even walk in here in the summer, much less work. ”
“So what comes next?” Saint asked, holding his arms out. “Use my body.”
Val blinked at him before smiling and shaking his head.
He motioned to the many gallons near the wall, several of which had a stack of sandpaper sheets.
“I’ve already applied all the fiberglass mesh tape to the seams and the paper tape to the corners.
Now it’s time to mud, sand, mud, sand, hot mud, and then the final sand. ”
“Okay. Just tell me where to start.”
“Grab yourself a four-and-a-half-gallon tub and a putty knife.”
With a little salute, Saint grabbed his supplies and picked a wall. He’d been about to start applying the first coat of drywall mud when someone knocked on the door.
Saint put a hand up to stop Val from going to the door. “I got this.”
“You think someone will try something here, of all places? There are security cameras all over. And it’s broad daylight.”
“I’m not taking any chances.”
It wasn’t like the guy hadn’t managed to evade cameras before. The bomber hadn’t been afraid to plant a device in a busy hotel. Who’s to say he wouldn’t do something in the middle of the busy historic district? Especially after the note that was left on his truck.
Saint left his putty knife on the tub’s lid, then quickly approached the door, standing to one side of it.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah? I hope that’s not how this establishment will greet its customers,” Fitz said through the door.
Nice one, Mason . So much for being discreet.
Saint opened the door and arched an eyebrow at Fitz, who stood in one of his many fluffy, oversized cashmere sweaters. It was like seventy degrees outside, but they were all used to it. The man ran cold. Well, his temperature did.
No one was warmer than Fitz. His pout broke into a huge smile, and he threw his arms out.
Saint had learned long ago that Fitz did that to give whoever was on the other end the choice of whether to walk into the hug, but who would turn down a hug from someone who genuinely looked so damned happy to see you? The answer was no one.
“Hey, Fitz.” Saint walked into his arms and hugged him. He pulled back and smiled at Laz. “Hey, man.”
“Hey, Saint.”
Val came over to greet them, smiling wide. “Hey, fellas. What’s the occasion?”
“Just checking in on Sailor Stud Muffin over here.”
Saint let his head hang. “You’ve been talking to Ryden, haven’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fitz slipped past him, and Laz followed, clearly amused. He had his camera bag with him.
“You brought your camera?” Saint asked.
“Yeah, I thought maybe Val might want to document his progress. Might be cool to have before and after pictures.”
Val grinned wide. “That’s a great idea. You don’t mind?”
“Of course not. I think it’ll be fun.”
“Okay.”
While Laz and Val walked off to take pictures, Fitz leaned into Saint, murmuring out of one corner of his mouth.
“Where’s the package.”
“I really hope you’re referring to the note for Jack.”
Fitz laughed and slapped him playfully on the arm. “Yes, obviously.”
“You’d make a terrible spy,” Saint said with a chuckle as he walked over to his bag.
“Please, I would look fierce in a catsuit. Emma Peel style.”
“Yeah, I can see you rocking the sixties go-go boots.”
“You know Emma Peel?”
“My mom used to love that show.” Saint glanced at Val, making sure he was busy with Laz, before picking up his bag and taking out the folded note. He handed it to Fitz, who swiftly tucked it down the front of his sweater.
“What are you wearing under there that you can hide that?”
Fitz winked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Okay, Trouble.”
“How’s Val doing?” Fitz asked, his expression becoming one of concern. “I heard about what happened at the club.”
“Is there anything your boyfriend doesn’t tell you?”
“He tries, but I can be pretty persuasive.”
Poor Jack never stood a chance.
“He says he’s okay. He was a little banged up, but nothing serious, thankfully.
I’m so glad I got there when I did.” Saint hated to think about what could have happened had he not arrived in time.
What he hated even more was the fact Val didn’t seem to think anything of it.
Like he was used to it. What the hell was wrong with people?
“And what about you?” Fitz asked softly. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m good. A little sore, but okay.”
“And what of…?” He cast a not-so-subtle glance in Val’s direction.
“What of what?”
Fitz arched an eyebrow at him. “Really?”
“What?” Saint laughed. “We’re just friends.”
“And that’s what you want?”
Saint let out a sigh. “It’s what he wants, so….” He shrugged. “It’s better than nothing, right?”
Fitz hummed. “If you say so, sweetie.”
“Look, he doesn’t want to be my first, and I get that. I don’t want to screw things up between us.”
“All done,” Laz announced, walking over with Val.
“We’ll leave you to it then,” Fitz said. He kissed Saint’s cheek and hugged Val before he and Laz disappeared.
Val cocked his head to one side; his lips quirked in amusement. “Well, that was…interesting.”
“You get used to it. Let’s get back to work, and I’ll tell you about the week The Boyfriend Collective invaded my apartment.”
“The what?”
Oh, poor sweet Val. He had no idea what he’d just gotten himself into.