Chapter 8 Devon
Devon
I learned a lot about Kit during our three days in San Diego. It felt like stepping into his past and getting to see the influences that had shaped him.
He and his dad seemed more like brothers and best friends than father and son, which made sense since they’d pretty much grown up together.
I couldn’t imagine becoming a father at seventeen, but Armando Cortez had done everything he could to be a good dad and provide for his child.
It hadn’t always been easy, and it had meant working long hours to make ends meet, which left very little time for anything else.
Even now, he still worked all the time. Armando tried his best to cut back his hours so he could spend time with us, but he had a hell of a lot on his plate. He was doing the job of three or four people, since he couldn’t afford to hire all the staff he needed.
Because we wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, we ended up spending part of each day at the diner, giving me a taste of what it must have been like for Kit as a boy.
His dad turned us down when we offered to pitch in, so we hung out in a booth at one end of the dining room, drinking coffee, eating the delicious things Armando and Myra kept bringing us, and visiting with him whenever he had five minutes to spare.
I ended up totally enchanted by the diner.
The food was great, the atmosphere was friendly and inviting, and the staff and regulars treated both of us like family.
They were all crazy about Kit, and it made me happy to see he’d grown up with a lot of love—especially from his dad, who clearly adored him.
Our nights were also spent in a time warp, since we were staying in Kit’s old bedroom.
I’d offered to get us a hotel room, but Armando insisted that we stay with him.
He went to bed early though, because he had to get to the diner by five every morning to prepare for the breakfast rush.
That meant we had to try our best to be quiet.
Sex definitely wasn’t an option, not only because of the paper-thin walls, but because Kit felt self-conscious about messing around with his dad in the next room.
So we spent our evenings kissing and cuddling, or playing board games, or carrying on hushed conversations about anything that came to mind.
I loved spending that time with Kit, and I also loved this glimpse into his past. He and his dad had moved into this modest apartment when Kit was around fourteen and starting high school, and he’d lived here until he was twenty-four.
His dad had left the room completely untouched while he’d been gone, which gave it a time capsule feel.
Sketches of Kit’s designs covered each wall, drawn over a span of ten years.
While his style had gotten more sophisticated, even the things he’d dreamt up as a teen were wonderfully creative.
There were also pictures of his favorite drag queens, and tucked away in his closet were some of the earliest garments he’d sewn—all in his size.
He seemed embarrassed when he showed me those pieces, but I thought they were great.
Most of them were made out of stuff he’d found in thrift shops or yard sales and cut up for the fabric, because that had been all he could afford.
He kept telling me everything that was wrong with them, but all I saw were beautiful things made by a talented artist.
And now that I’d seen all of this, I finally understood how important drag was to him. He hadn’t randomly chosen drag queens as his clients when he set out to be a designer. Drag was a part of him, and it had been ever since he was a kid.
I was still committed to helping him grow his design business, but now I had another goal, too.
I wanted to convince Kit to get onstage and perform in drag, because I believed that was his true passion, despite his shyness and a raging case of stage fright.
If he’d written out his bucket list, and if he was being totally honest with himself, I just knew doing drag would have been in his top two.
There was only one thing he would have put before it—and before everything else.
More than anything, he wanted to be able to help his dad.
I could see why, given how hard Armando worked.
I also understood what the diner meant to both of them, and to the community, and how important it was that it didn’t go under.
So, over the last three days, I’d figured out how to help Kit cross the number one item off his bucket list.
On our last night in San Diego, Kit and I cooked dinner, because we knew Armando could use a break.
After we cleaned up, we moved into the living room to play cards, but Kit ended up falling asleep on the couch.
I covered him with a blanket and kissed his forehead before asking his dad, “Want a beer? We picked up a six-pack when we stopped off at the grocery store earlier.”
“Sounds good.”
We were careful not to wake Kit as we moved to the kitchen.
Armando thanked me when I handed him a bottle from the fridge, and after we passed the bottle opener, we took a seat at the old, wooden table.
All the furniture in the apartment had seen better days.
But I liked this table, because Kit had shown me the hidden spot where he’d carved his name as a kid.
I reached under the table and traced the three small letters with my fingertip as Armando said, “It makes me happy to see how kind and caring you are with my son.”
He paused before adding, “I don’t know this for sure, but I don’t think his ex-boyfriend treated him very well. Kit refuses to talk about it, but he seemed pretty unhappy back then.” He glanced at me as he asked, “Has he ever told you about their relationship?”
“He told me a little. His ex sounded like a jerk, but Kit’s a strong person, and he cut it off completely. That guy’s not in his life anymore.” I didn’t think it was my place to go into detail.
“I wish Kit felt he could be more open with me. I’m pretty sure he only tells me about the good stuff that happens in his life, and he leaves out anything negative, so I never get the whole picture.”
“He doesn’t want you to worry.”
“I’m his dad. It’s my job to worry about him. Instead, he’s always worrying about me.”
“That’s because he loves you,” I said. “You know, I asked him once what he wanted to achieve in his career, and it wasn’t even about himself. He told me he wanted to make enough money to help you out financially. That’s how much your well-being matters to him.”
Armando looked pained as he pushed his slightly overgrown black hair out of his eyes. “I hate the fact that my financial situation affects him. He shouldn’t have to think about that stuff.”
“I didn’t tell you that because I wanted to make you feel bad.
I just want you to understand where I’m coming from with what I’m about to say.
More than anything, I want Kit to be happy.
I also really like you and the diner, and I want you to succeed.
That’s why I have a business proposition for you. ”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
“I want to become your silent partner, emphasis on the word ‘silent.’ All the decisions will still be yours. I’d like to invest enough to pay off your business loans, and to refurbish the diner.”
Understandably, Armando looked skeptical. “I’m not sure you realize how much money that would take.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and tapped the screen before turning it to face him.
“I called my financial advisor, and she helped me crunch some numbers. Some of my money is tied up in long-term investments, but this amount can be made available to invest in the diner. Would it be enough for what I just mentioned?”
His eyes went wide as he read the dollar amount on the screen. “More than enough. Do you really have that much money?”
I nodded. It was roughly a third of my trust fund.
The rest was earmarked for two things—my scholarship program, and Kit.
I’d made arrangements, so all of my long-term investments would transfer to him after I was gone.
I just really needed to know he was going to be okay, above and beyond what I was trying to do for his dad.
Armando looked stunned. “I don’t understand why you’d want to do this. You barely know me.”
“I know everything I need to. You and Kit are wonderful people, and the diner is a lifeline for a lot of your customers, especially the older ones. I saw the way you kept comping meals for several of your regulars, because you know they’re barely getting by.
I also know the free dinners you provide on the holidays are about more than food.
You’ve created a family, and a community.
A lot of those seniors don’t have any place else to go.
They’d be all alone if it wasn’t for you and the diner. ”
“But this is so much money…”
“You give and give and give, Armando. It’s time someone did something for you.”
He whispered, “I can’t believe this.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in. But are you interested?”
“Yes! God, yes.”
“Fantastic!” I pulled a business card from my wallet and handed it to him.
“This is my lawyer’s contact information.
I already emailed him to give him a heads up about what I want to do here.
Whenever you’re ready, give him a call, and he’ll work with you to draw up a contract.
I want you to have full input into what it says, and I want you to know there won’t be any sneaky hidden clauses or anything like that. ”
Armando said, “I’m not worried about that. I trust you, Devon.”
“I trust you, too, and I know this money will go to good use.”