Chapter Two
REX
Cachi Adams was a gorgeous man, but he was way too young for me. When he reminded me he was only twenty-five, I suddenly felt terrible. I needed to keep my comments in check, not lead him on. If I could…
Secretly, though, I felt the idiot who’d run into me at the club and pushed me up against Cachi’s platform, had done me a big favor.
When it’d first happened, I’d been pissed.
That was…until Cachi laughed. The tinkling giggle which had come from the beautiful creature standing there writhing to the techno beat of the music, had given me heart palpitations.
All I could think was how I wanted to hear more of his infectious laugh.
I’d been fascinated by Cachi from the moment I’d looked up to see all that slender, golden skin on display.
His dark, soulful eyes seemed to look right through me.
It made me feel something I hadn’t felt for a long time.
Then again, I was the epitome of what Nash would have called hard up.
I hadn’t had a guy under me since coming out to California, nine months ago.
I didn’t know what kept me from simply going out and picking up a guy for a hot screw.
Except I was an expert at concocting excuses to explain away my reluctance to do so.
Back in Houston, my social life consisted of hanging out with my team to barbeque and teaching myself how to cook and bake by watching the Food Channel.
The praise my brothers showered down on me every time I set a dish of food on the table, made me feel ten feet tall.
Getting chosen to join Candy Sorensen’s FBI Tac Team once we’d finished our military service and returned Stateside, had been one of the proudest days of my life.
He was more than a mentor to me; he was a brother.
He’d made sure to choose the best men for his team and as soon as I’d realized he’d somehow convinced most of the guys from Afghanistan to join up too, I’d jumped at the chance.
Then there was Lola.
I’d enlisted several of the guys to help build a ramp for her to get in and out of the house in her wheelchair, and like the perfect baby she was, Lola had learned the ropes lickety split. She was the most brilliant person I knew, even if she was a person covered in curly, white poodle fur.
I still volunteered at my neighborhood animal shelter, but once I’d been introduced to Lola on one of my favorite adoption sites, I’d put in an application. I’d given up my foster duties as soon as I found out I’d won the lottery.
Conversation in the car died down after I’d complimented Cachi.
I didn’t know why. Maybe he didn’t like taking compliments.
Or didn’t get them too often. Lots of folks didn’t know how to respond to them.
The compliments weren’t lies. They were the truth.
If guys wanted Cachi for only one thing, it was their loss.
In our short acquaintance, I’d found him to be intelligent as well as beautiful.
Who wouldn’t want to get to know him better?
I cleared my throat again, surprised that I was nervous about talking to him.
I wanted to say all the right things. The truth was, I really wanted him to like me.
“So, you said your mama will be worried about you gettin’ home so late. You two live together?” I drove toward The Valley, topping the hill that separated greater Los Angeles from the famous L.A. suburb that Frank Zappa had sung about in the early 80s.
“Yeah. Like I tell the police, we move here five years ago. Puerto Rico was a hard place to live, especially after Hurricane Maria and no jobs…which were not enough even before the bad storm. The entire island had widespread…how you say?” I glanced over to see him twirling his hands, trying to conquer the word.
He grinned as he remembered. “We no have electricity for two months after the storm. Companies shut down. Many people move to the States when their homes were totalmente destruido…you say destructed?”
“Destroyed.”
He nodded. “Si. Our house was badly destroy. We stay for about six months and then we leave. Mamá divorce by then. She certain we could have much better life here.”
I didn’t want to point out that he worked in a gay bar as a go-go dancer. If that’s what Cachi called a much better life, it made me cringe to think of how bad it must have been back in Puerto Rico. “I suppose tourism got bad after the hurricane,” I said, staying away from those thoughts.
“Si, it really bad and then, during la pandemia, little tourist dollars become no tourist dollars. That was Mamá’s break point. We leave and come here as soon as ban on travel was no mas. No reason to stay.”
“You said you had a father back home, though. Surely, you kept in touch with him even though your mama divorced him.” When he said nothing, I glanced over at him.
He was looking down at his lap, rubbing a spot on his left wrist. “Does that hurt real bad?” I pointed to his wrist when he glanced over.
He shrugged. “A little. It probably just sprain. I sprain my ankle playing football and it feel like this.”
I grinned. “You play football?”
He rolled his eyes. “Sorry. You call it soccer.”
“Gotcha. And I still think you should get an x-ray or at the very least, get seen by a good doc.”
“No have insurance, okay?” he blurted. I glanced over, noting the distress on his face. “I only work part time at club, and they don’t give insurance to part time employees in case you didn’t know.”
“What about Medicaid?”
“I’m not quite five years in States. You have to wait to be eligible for services.”
I admit to feeling somewhat stung by the way he’d raised his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know and I sure as hell didn’t mean to try and get all personal like.”
“You ask questions about mi familia too, Rex.”
I swallowed. “You’re right. That was wrong of me. Sorry.”
He was silent for a minute or two before letting out a long-suffering sigh. “No, I sorry, Rex. You’ve been wonderful to me, and I’ve been mucho pendejo to you.” He sounded almost distressed, and I glanced over again. He’d turned away, looking out the window.
I thinned my lips, not liking the way he’d referred to himself in Spanish.
I didn’t speak it fluently, but I’d picked up words and phrases over the years, having been raised in Texas.
“You haven’t been an asshole, Cachi. You’ve been through a whole hell of a lot tonight, and you have all kinds of reasons to be upset. ”
He sniffled and looked over at me. There were tears in his eyes. “But no with you, Rex. You are great. If no for you, God only know what Terry and his two friends do to me. I no a weak man, pero...tres conta uno…how you say?” He paused, “Three against one are no good odds.”
I nodded and reached over, brushing away a tear as it ran down his smooth cheek before quickly turning my attention back to the road. “Don’t cry, sugar. You’re gonna get my waterworks goin’ and then where will we be? You’ll be cryin’ and I’ll be cryin’ and it’ll be a fine mess.”
He snorted and I glanced over again, this time to find him smiling as he brushed away tears.
“I like it much better when you smile. I can see them pretty dimples.” I cursed the fact that I was driving, wanting to keep looking at his face, but in the end, dragged my gaze back to the road, spotting a freeway sign noting the 101 Freeway coming up.
I sighed. “We’re in the Valley. Where should I go? ”
“Oh.” Cachi sat up straighter. “I live in Van Nuys. Stay on the 405 to Victory. Get off there. I live one block only from the exit.”
I nodded, not knowing where Victory was since I rarely ventured far from the West Side where I lived and worked, but I could read road signs.
We both fell silent until I spotted the sign and then took the off-ramp, following his directions as we drove to a small residential neighborhood of older homes.
I turned onto his street as he pointed out the house.
It was small and well kept. I noticed a wheelchair ramp out front and wondered whether his mother or someone else was disabled.
I wasn’t about to ask since he hadn’t appreciated it when I’d asked before.
I parked in front of the house and got out, not waiting for him to let himself out. I jogged around to his side and opened the door for him. He smiled, accepting the hand I held down to him. I helped him out of the car, grabbing his duffel from the backseat and handing it to him.
When he’d taken it, I stood there awkwardly.
I wanted to reach out and hug him, but I thought that was presumptuous, even though he’d practically thrown his trembling body into my arms only an hour ago.
Instead, I was surprised when he closed the distance between us and slipped his arms around me.
I immediately returned the hug, immensely enjoying the warmth of his lithe body.
“Muchas gracias, cowboy,” he whispered against my collarbone. “I don’t know how to thank you for everything.”
I shut my eyes, not wanting to let go and end the moment. But in the end, I dropped my arms and stepped back, smiling down at him. “Sweet dreams, Cachi, and please be ready when I come to pick you up in the mornin’. I figure we should plan on leavin’ here at nine.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Did you forget? I promised to get you down to the police station so we could give a report on what happened. Don’t forget…you don’t have a car. Someone’s gotta take you to it.”
“Diantres,” he said. “Damn! I completely forget.” He frowned, shaking his head. “You no have to do that, Rex. I promise to give police report. I can Uber to the bar to pick up my car. I’m sure FBI needs you manana.”
I chuckled. “First of all, Uber will cost you a damned fortune from Van Nuys to Hollywood, so you can forget all about that, and second, I was already plannin’ on takin’ the day off tomorrow. I have to go pick up my girl from the hospital.”