The Bucket List (Firsts and Forever #14)

Chapter 1 Kit

Kit

“Heads up!”

A split second after someone shouted that warning, a huge duffle bag landed right in front of me. I jumped back with a startled yelp and looked up at a guy hauling ass down a fire escape.

Once he reached the bottom level, which was maybe ten feet off the ground, he could have lowered the ladder and climbed the rest of the way down.

Instead, he launched himself over the railing, landing nearby in a superhero pose—down on one knee, left arm back, right hand lightly touching the ground in front of him.

Clearly, he had a flare for the dramatic.

When he raised his head and smiled at me, it was all I could do to keep my jaw from dropping.

He had tousled dark hair, a sparkle in his eyes, and a face so handsome it probably let him get away with murder.

There was also a sexy rock star thing going on, with his leather motorcycle jacket and the electric guitar slung across his back.

“Sorry I almost squashed you with my bag. I didn’t expect anyone to be in the alley,” he said, as he straightened up and approached me. He towered over me, since I was barely five-foot-six. Then again, so did a lot of people, but he had to be close to six-one.

“I was taking a shortcut on the way home.” I could hear a man yelling and banging on a door somewhere inside the building with the fire escape, so I asked, “Out of curiosity, did you just rob someone’s apartment?”

“Technically, yes. We should go, in case he decides to come after me.” I started power walking away from this guy, but he grabbed the duffle bag and jogged to catch up with me.

“Don’t worry, I’m not a criminal. I’d rented a room in some guy’s apartment, but he turned out to be a creep.

After I shot down his super aggressive advances, he took my key and kicked me out. Totally unfair, right?”

When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “I had to get my stuff, so I came back today and jimmied open a window. He was supposed to be at work, but he came home early and got super mad when he saw me. I locked the bedroom door to give myself time to escape, which is why you heard that pounding and yelling.”

I started walking faster. “It seems like you don’t believe me,” he said, “but I can prove this is my stuff.” He hurried ahead of me, dropped the bag, and pulled out a T-shirt, which he held to his chest. “See? It’s my size.

Plus, it’s got Green Day on it, and I love them.

Want me to sing you one of their songs, so you know this belongs to me? ”

I stepped around him, barely breaking my stride as I muttered, “You don’t need to prove anything to me.”

He grabbed the bag and ran after me. “I do, though. Otherwise, you’re going to be totally freaked out, because you’ll think you had a run-in with a criminal in a dark alley—”

“It’s three p.m.”

“What?”

“It’s only three. It’s still light out.”

“The alley was kind of shadowy, though. It’d be the perfect place to run into a marauder, or a desperado.

” I couldn’t help but grin. Who talked like that?

“In fact, you should really stop taking shortcuts down seedy alleyways. Someone as cute and little as you could get snatched up—not by me! Again, I’m not a criminal. ”

“Newsflash, you don’t have to be six feet tall to kick some ass. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself.”

“Crap, now I’ve offended you. I’m sorry.” After a moment, he asked, “Could you please slow down a little? It’s hard to carry on a conversation like this.”

“We don’t need to carry on a conversation,” I said. “I don’t even know you.”

“Devon Hughes, formerly of Baltimore, Maryland, and as of six days ago, San Francisco, California. And you are?”

“Kit.”

He waited for me to continue. When I didn’t, he said, “Let me buy you a drink, Kit.”

“As previously discussed, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon. Isn’t it a little early for a drink?”

“Definitely not. Please? I could really use one after that harrowing attempt at liberating my possessions, and I hate drinking alone.”

“It seems to have been more than an attempt, since you got your stuff.”

“I was only partially successful. I had to leave my amp and backpack behind, because I thought my former landlord might stab me.”

“He had a knife?”

“Worse. A sword.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope, he collects them. It should have been enough of a red flag to pass on that room for rent, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s a flaw of mine, I always assume everyone has good intentions.

Lesson learned, though. From now on, if I walk into an apartment and see a wall of swords and a taxidermied squirrel, I’ll turn right around and leave. ”

“Poor squirrel.”

Devon sounded sad when he said, “It looked startled.”

“I can see why. I’m sure it never planned to end up as a tchotchke.”

“I’ll have to be careful tonight, when I go back for the rest of my stuff. I don’t want to end up like that squirrel.”

I stopped walking and turned to him in disbelief. “You just said he threatened you with a sword. You can’t go back there!”

“It’s a really cool amp though, and—”

“I’m sure you can find another one at any pawn shop in the city.”

“Right, but what’s in my backpack is important. If I’d known I was going to get interrupted, I would have grabbed it first.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned at him. “Is it really important, or are you planning to risk your life for, like, a hairbrush and an iPad?”

“There’s a small photo album in it with some irreplaceable pictures of my dad. He died when I was four.”

I uncrossed my arms and muttered, “Shit, you have to get that back.”

“I know.”

“After that, you need to do a digital back-up of those photos. You can’t just have one copy of something that precious.”

“You’re right.” We’d stopped at an intersection, and he pointed at the sign with the name of our cross street.

“We’re less than a minute from a terrific Mexican restaurant.

I went there my first day in the city, and everyone was super nice.

Please come drink some margaritas with me.

As a bonus, we’ll get to stuff ourselves with free chips and salsa. How can you pass that up?”

I weighed the pros and cons of spending a little more time with Devon. I really didn’t think he was a thief, but he definitely seemed like someone who attracted chaos. Still though, what was the harm in having a drink with him?

He seemed hopeful as he waited for my answer, and when I said, “Okay,” a huge smile spread across his face.

“Awesome! You’re going to love this place.”

He ended up leading the way to my favorite restaurant. When I mentioned that, he looked surprised. “What are the odds?”

“Pretty good, since we’re in my neighborhood. Not that I can afford to eat out very often, but when I want to treat myself, this is where I go.”

As soon as we set foot in the restaurant, the owner shouted, “Devon, welcome back!”

He hurried over to shake my companion’s hand, and Devon exclaimed, “Hey, Eduardo, good to see you! How did your son’s speech go?”

“He was nervous, but he did great.”

“I knew he’d crush it.”

“It’s lovely that you remembered.” He turned to me and asked, “And who do we have here?”

Devon gestured at me with a flourish, almost like a magician revealing a surprise. “Please meet my new friend, Kit.”

The man shook my hand and welcomed me to his restaurant. We’d actually met before, but he’d forgotten. No surprise. Unlike Devon, I was the quiet type and tended to fade into the background.

The place was empty, which was to be expected this time of day. After we got settled in a red vinyl booth in the corner, Devon ordered us a pitcher of margaritas. Eduardo looked apologetic when he asked for my ID, but I was used to getting carded.

I handed it over, and he read my name out loud. “Kit Cortez. Any relation to Lupe and Alejandro over at La Palma Bakery?” I shook my head.

He returned my ID and went to get our drinks, and Devon glanced at it and said, “I assumed Kit was short for something.”

“My dad originally planned to name me Cristobal after his father, and Kit was going to be my nickname. But then he decided I should have a name that was all mine, so that’s what he went with.”

It’s cute, and it suits you.”

“Thanks.”

Apparently he’d done some math during that quick glance. As I slipped the card back in my wallet, he said, “You don’t look like you’re twenty-eight. I would have guessed you were a few years younger than me, but we’re almost the same age. I’m twenty-nine.”

“I look younger because I’m short. I’ll probably still get carded when I’m fifty.”

“There are worse things.”

“I know.” I started fidgeting with a cocktail napkin as I attempted to make small talk. “So, how many times have you been to this restaurant?”

“Just that one time, six days ago.”

“You certainly bonded with the owner.”

“He’s a great guy. It was slow, like today, so we had a long talk and he told me all about his kids. He’s very proud of them.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded. When he realized I was about to let the conversation die a painful death, he prompted me with, “Tell me about yourself, Kit Cortez.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything and everything. Have you always lived in San Francisco?”

“No. I grew up in San Diego and moved here after I won a national design competition. The prize was a scholarship to a local art college, and I graduated with my degree in fashion design this past June.” Why did I tell him all of that? It sounded like I was bragging.

“Nice! So, is it your dream to see something you designed at a star-studded red carpet event?”

“Not exactly. I make clothes for drag queens, and I guess my dream is to break out of the local market. It would be amazing to see one of my designs on the main stage of RuPaul’s Drag Race, or something along those lines.”

“Very cool. I love drag.”

“You should check out the club where I work,” I said. “It’s one of the oldest drag venues in town, and it’s really fun and welcoming.”

“I will for sure. Do you have a funny drag name, like Barbara Black Sheep or Patty O’Furniture?”

“Did you just make those up?” He nodded, and I said, “Those are excellent names, but no. I don’t perform. Design doesn’t pay the bills, so I work at the club as a bar back, restocking glasses and that kind of thing.”

“But you’ve performed before, right? It’s obvious you’re totally into drag. You light up when you talk about it.”

“I absolutely love it,” I said, “but I’m not a performer. The thought of setting foot on a stage makes me physically ill.”

“If you decide to face your fears, I’ll do it with you.

We can put together a sister act or something.

It’ll be a blast.” He seemed excited about this, but there was no way it was happening.

A lot of my friends in the drag community had tried to get me to perform over the years, but my stage fright ran deep.

A moment later, Eduardo swooped in with our order, along with complementary chips and salsa, and a bowl of guacamole.

“The guac is on the house, and I think you’re going to like it,” he told us, before launching into a story about his mother’s famous recipe.

I was secretly relieved when he got called away to the kitchen after a minute or two, because I had a feeling that guac story had just been getting started.

Devon raised a toast and said, “To new friends.”

I clinked my glass to his and took a sip of my icy drink before asking, “So, what brought you to San Francisco?”

“I visited a few months ago, during a road trip from Baja to British Columbia. It seemed like an interesting place, so I decided to come back and spend some time here.”

“That must have been an amazing trip.”

“It really was. I love to travel, so I made it my main focus over the last three years.”

“What do you do for a living?”

He shrugged. “I’ve mostly been picking up odd jobs here and there.”

“Is that what you’ll do while you’re here?”

“No. I’m planning to live off my savings.” Devon took a sip of his margarita and added, as casually as if he was talking about the weather, “I want to enjoy the time I have left, since I’ll be dead in less than three months.”