Chapter 6
Hernán strode along the sidewalk, teeth grinding, fists shoved into the pockets of his hooded jacket. He was freezing and his muscles quivered. Damn Rudy for stirring up this shit. Now another person knew he was in the country illegally. He could almost feel ICE officers breathing down his neck already.
Colin’s not like that. He won’t expose us.
It was a stupid thought. He didn’t know this Colin person. Neither did Rudy. So how could they know what Colin would and wouldn’t do? Find him a lawyer, give him a place to stay, all out of the goodness of his heart. Yeah, right. Everybody wanted the same thing from Hernán, and when he tried to say no they took it. They took it no matter how he twisted and tried to get away…
Lost in bad memories, he didn’t register the sound of footsteps running along the pavement until a hand touched his shoulder. He whirled with a cry, hands up before him automatically to push, but Colin grabbed his fingers first.
“It’s just me. Colin. I’m sorry I scared you.”
His grip was icy cold but surprisingly strong. Hernán jerked his hands away and said angrily, “What do you want, pendejo?”
“I want to help.” Colin’s glasses reflected the glare of the streetlamp. He lowered his head minutely and Hernán could see his eyes clearly, flashing blue. There was sincerity in them. He really seemed to mean what he said, but Hernán resisted the impulse to trust.
“You can’t help,” he growled, but it was softer than he meant it to be. More anguish showed in his voice than he intended to share and he cleared his throat awkwardly.
Colin didn’t move away. “I can,” he argued gently. “You don’t know me. I get that. But you saw me at my absolute worst last night. You took care of me, and you got me to safety. Did I seem to you like the kind of person who would abuse your trust?”
Reluctantly, Hernán shook his head.
Colin sighed in relief. “Good. Because I’m not. I owe you a debt. When I offer you a place to stay, it’s with no strings attached. I don’t need money, and I know you aren’t gay.” He didn’t seem to notice when Hernán shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I despise people like Gerald Nimble who try to twist the law to serve their petty little vices. I’m offering this because you’re a good man, he’s a bastard, and you don’t deserve to be forced into anything.”
The look in Colin’s eyes was fierce and determined. The warrior shone out again, and Hernán felt himself yielding to it. He wanted to trust someone. Rudy was his best friend and had done all that he could, but he wasn’t able to get Hernán out of the mess Gerald threw his way. Maybe, just maybe, this Colin meant it. Maybe he could help without expecting Hernán to…do anything.
No. No one helped out of the goodness of his heart. Everyone wanted something. In Hernán’s experience, usually the same thing. His voice rasped in his throat as he said reluctantly, “I believe you mean well. But no way am I going to leave town with you. I’ll figure something out, or I’ll just…” He gestured awkwardly and flushed.
“Don’t do it, Hernán,” Colin urged gruffly. “Don’t give in to Nimble.”
Hernán’s eyes burned and his throat tightened. He imagined that terrible man’s hands on his shoulders, pressing him to his knees. He shook his head fiercely to clear the image, and his words sounded harsh on the darkened street. “I have to. It’s about Rudy’s safety too.”
He turned and started to walk away, to leave behind Colin and the impossible lifeline he offered. At least he knew enough about Gerald to understand it would only be about sex. Gerald was an asshole to Rudy but he’d never physically hurt him. Compared to the things that had happened to Hernán, a night with Gerald would be…well, not easy but survivable.
Colin called after him. “Hernán, I’m not giving up that quickly. You have until tomorrow evening, right? I’m going to stay in Provincetown another day. Please. Talk to me before you go to his house.”
Hernán stopped where he stood, but he didn’t turn back. Pride and fear battled in his gut. If there was a chance Colin could help, he’d be a fool not to accept. He squared his shoulders. Without turning his head, he said, “I finish my cleaning job at eleven in the morning and I don’t go to the restaurant until two.”
Colin’s voice when he answered was strong and determined. Warm. “I’ll do everything in my power to help you get this resolved.”
Hernán let the words wrap around him like a blanket. For a moment, he wished it were Colin’s arms, not his voice. He jerked his head awkwardly and resumed his walk home.
Colin called out before he’d made it ten yards. “Will you have lunch with me tomorrow? So I can tell you what I’ve been able to do by then?”
He stopped again but still didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. “I’ll be at Chach at noon. It’s a restaurant. Anyone can tell you where that is.”
“Thank you. I’ll be there.” Colin didn’t say anything more as Hernán resumed his long, lonely walk home.
Colin hurried back through the fog to The Brass Key. Ken was still on duty when he stopped at the front desk.
“Good evening, Mr. Felton. Can I do anything for you?” There was a flirtatious tone to his voice but Colin assumed that was for every customer.
“Two things, actually. I’m supposed to check out tomorrow but I’d like to stay another night if the room is still available.” Ken checked his computer. He clicked a few keys, and then nodded.
“It is, actually. Someone was booked in but I can easily move him to a comparable room that’ll be empty.”
“Excellent. Also, can you tell me how to get to a restaurant called Chach?”
In his room a few minutes later, Colin fired up his laptop. He sent a quick email to his colleagues to let them know he was taking an additional vacation day. It was unprofessional of him but, hell, he rarely took vacation at all. He’d deliberately kept his work schedule light, figuring he’d probably be slightly depressed after the wedding.
Next he began to run Google searches. After typing in Gerald Nimble hedge fund he scoured the results. Quickly he located the name of the fund that Nimble managed, along with his professional biography. It was the typical puff piece, next to a photo of Nimble leaning earnestly toward the camera and radiating trustworthiness.
“Dickwad,” Colin muttered, and kept clicking through to the links for the fund. He read through its prospectus and press releases, but found nothing useful. Following links to the fund’s umbrella investment organization, he read a variety of materials on its goals, strategies and analysis of market trends. Still nothing. Two hours in, he began to despair.
Then he got to the page for the board of directors.
He sat back and smiled. “Gotcha.”
Colin tried to sleep in the next morning to make up for his awful, drunken Friday night, but it was no use. He waited until he was sure his parents would be awake but before his father would have headed out for his usual Sunday round of golf.
His mother answered on the second ring. “Colin, dear. How was the wedding?” she asked brightly.
“Hi Mom. It was really nice. They held it on the beach at sunset.”
“How lovely. We had gorgeous weather in Nantucket so I hope you had the same.”
“We did. Listen, I’m sorry to be abrupt but is Dad still there?”
“Yes, he’s just coming downstairs now. Would you like to speak with him?”
“Thanks, Mom. I promise I’ll chat more soon.” His mother called to his father, and then a warm baritone laced with surprise filled his ear.
“Well, good morning, Son. You never ask to talk to me. Is everything all right?”
“I know, Dad. I need to check in more often.”
“You should fly yourself up to Saddle River soon. Your mother misses you.”
“That’d be great. Right now I’m still in Provincetown. Listen, I kind of need a favor.”
Hernán paced around his apartment Sunday morning after his shift cleaning houses, his nerves like razor blades. He had to face Gerald that night. Even though he wanted to spit in the man’s face, he couldn’t take the risk to Rudy.
It’s sex, he tried to tell himself. Everybody does it. Do what he wants, get it over with, and get out of there.
Another part of his brain chimed in. What if he wants me to do it again? He’ll still have the same leverage. Hernán groaned at the thought.
Making things worse was the lunch with Colin. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to meet, except that he was desperate. Colin seemed honest and well-intentioned, and maybe he did have a backbone in that tall, sleek body. But what good would any of that do against someone rich and powerful like Gerald?
Maybe he’d just forget about showing up to lunch. A sleepless night had given way to a rough three hours of scrubbing toilets and changing beds. Grimy and sweaty despite the mid-September chill, he’d come home just long enough to put on the clothes he wore to wash dishes at the restaurant.
Then why am I wet? Hernán was shocked to realize that, as he fretted, he’d unconsciously jumped into the shower to clean off the residue of his morning job. He never did that before heading to Veranda because he’d be a sweaty mess again inside an hour of the start of his shift. Almost angrily, he toweled himself dry. Thank god Rudy wasn’t there to make fun of him. He hadn’t come home the night before, so apparently he’d picked up a trick after Hernán stormed out.
Shortly before noon, he walked along Shank Painter Road toward Chach, hands shoved into his pockets and head down. The whole way he continued to argue with himself. Life was complicated enough. He had no intention of accepting Colin’s invitation. Colin could do nothing anyway.
And even if Hernán did accept help about Gerald, it was so much worse than Colin knew. He’d inevitably have to talk about that too. Hernán shivered as Lonnie’s leering face flashed into his mind. Better if he just kept going right past the restaurant and went straight to Veranda.
His hand was on the glass door, pushing his way into Chach, before he consciously made the decision to show up. The bell over the door rang. Dammit. Shelly, a waitress with spiky blue hair and tattoos up both arms, called out a greeting.
“Hey Hernán. Table for one? You want to just sit at the counter?”
“Uh, thanks, but I’m meeting someone.”
“Tall guy, glasses, brown hair? I think he’s already here in the main dining room.” Hernán took a peek and sure enough, Colin sat in a booth looking out the window. He hadn’t yet noticed Hernán. There was still time to get away.
“Hernán! How are you?” Sara’s voice calling across the dining room stopped his escape. Sara was from Jamaica, and she hadn’t lost her accent. Dreads of black hair laced through with gray dripped down to her shoulders. Her wife Jane—white-haired, lightly tanned, poised and regal in a fuchsia blouse—sat across from her and waved hello as well. The women were just two booths down from Colin, and his head whipped around at Hernán’s name.
Hernán sighed. Nothing for it now but to go over. Stopping at the women’s booth, he bent to kiss Sara’s cheek. She was an editor with the local paper, and Jane was a realtor in town. They’d met when he and Rudy took a gig as cater-waiters for their anniversary party at the beginning of summer. Since then, he frequently ran into one or both of them around town. As far as he could tell, Jane and Sara knew everyone.
“Hi sweetie,” Jane said when he’d kissed her cheek as well. “Are you keeping out of trouble?”
“As much as I can. You know what Rudy’s like.”
“Will you join us?” Sara asked, starting to shift over in her booth.
“Thank you, but I’m meeting someone.” He gestured vaguely in Colin’s direction and both ladies turned to see. Colin’s face lit up and he hurried out of his booth to come over.
“Jane! Sara! I didn’t see you there,” he exclaimed. They both got up to hug Colin hello. To Hernán’s no-doubt perplexed expression, Colin said, “Jane and Sara were at the wedding I’m here for.” They chatted for a few moments, asking questions about whether Colin was enjoying Provincetown, had Brandon and David gotten away for their honeymoon, and how did Hernán and Colin meet?
Fortunately, Shelly appeared with plates of food for the women. Hernán and Colin excused themselves to return to their booth. Sara gave a small smile as she looked back and forth between the two of them. Hernán felt his face flush but Colin didn’t seem to notice.
Ensconced in the booth across from Colin, Hernán gulped water to steady his nerves. Colin’s gaze was intense.
“How do you know Jane and Sara?” Colin asked, at the same time Hernán began, “Have you come up with any way—?”
They both stopped and laughed slightly. Colin nodded. “You’re right, that’s the most important thing.” He leaned closer and spoke in a low voice so as not to be overheard. “Yes. I think I’ve found a way to stop Nimble from extorting you. We’ll know soon if it worked.”
Hernán blinked several times. He had expected lunch to be a complete waste of time. No way this nice man could go up against that cabrón Gerald Nimble, and certainly not overnight.
“Wh-what do you mean?” The anxiety and desperation he heard in his own voice alarmed him. Lowering his eyes to the tabletop, Hernán wrestled with a surge of hope. He folded his hands on the Formica, squeezing them together tightly.
“Okay so, Nimble is a manager of a hedge fund, right? And that fund is part of a larger family of funds,” Colin began. Hernán shrugged; he didn’t know much about finance. “Anyway, a company at the top of the pyramid makes all the big decisions for the various funds. That company has a lot of money under management, invested in many, many different mutual funds. The single fund Nimble manages is just one of those. That parent company is governed by a board of directors.”
He sat back in the booth and gave Hernán a sheepish smile. “My father is one of the directors.”
Hernán stared at him. “That… What?”
Colin nodded. “I know. Weird coincidence, right? Except it isn’t really. The investment family that includes Nimble’s fund is one of the largest, and my father has deep connections.”
Hernán recalled Colin’s comment about spending summers in Nantucket, and the penny dropped. “You’re rich,” he said to Colin, stunned.
Colin blushed. He nodded, and then said in a low voice, “Brandon doesn’t know. Very few people do, so I’d appreciate if you kept it to yourself.”
“How do you keep something like that private?” Hernán asked.
“It’s easy to overlook me,” Colin said with a shrug. “No, I mean that in a good way. The paparazzi used to run stuff on me years ago, but I was just too boring to make it worth their time. My brother still gets followed every time he starts dating a new girl because he gives them a lot more shit to work with. My father’s in the news a lot too. He used to be on an economic council for the White House under the last president, stuff like that.”
Colin leaned in again. “Look, that isn’t important now. What matters is that I asked my father to pull some strings to rein in Nimble.”
Colin’s phone vibrated on the tabletop just then. He glanced at the display and smiled. “There it is. Dad talked to Uncle Samuel, who said he would speak to Nimble today.”
Hernán felt frozen in place. None of this made any sense to him. He managed to ask, “Uncle Samuel?”
“Sam Roberson. He’s the chief investment officer for the family of funds, and, um, my godfather.” With a nervous chuckle, Colin added, “He’s not really related, but we always called him uncle. My brother Griff calls him Uncle Sam but I think that’s a little much.”
“Your godfather,” Hernán said flatly. He’d thought Colin a straightforward, uncomplicated, well-intentioned guy. Instead, he was wealthy, connected, and related to a financial wizard of some kind.
“It’s good news, right?” Colin’s nerves gave his voice an edge. He all but pleaded for a response, but Hernán suspected the question was not just about Gerald.
He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry to be stupid, but even with your uncle calling Gerald, how does that help me?”
“Well, see, I told Dad that the manager of one of the funds is extorting sexual favors. That’s the kind of thing that, if it got out, would create instability in Nimble’s fund. From there, it could potentially spread and create bad publicity for the entire family of investments. So as a director, Dad felt it was his responsibility to let the CIO know. Uncle Samuel’s a good man. Now that he knows what Nimble is doing in his personal life, he’ll make Nimble stop or fire him from the fund.”
It started to sink through. Hernán didn’t understand the financial stakes at play, but he got enough to know that Gerald was unlikely to risk his professional standing just to force a man into his bed.
He licked his lip carefully. “How will I know if, um, if it worked?”
Colin nodded. “I thought about that. I’d just as soon Nimble doesn’t know who my family is, or I’d confront him directly. I think the best thing is for you to text him. Rudy must have his cell number, right? Then you or Rudy should send something like, what time do I have to be there. If Uncle Samuel has torn Nimble a new and sufficiently painful asshole, I’m guessing he’ll respond right away and say not to come.”
Hernán released a whoosh of air. It started to sink in, what Colin had done for him. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he did feel a calm begin to spread in the center of the storm. His eyes burned. “This is… I don’t know what to say.”
Colin blushed. “Don’t say anything until we know it worked. Give it an hour or so. Send the text then and we’ll find out.”
We. The simple word reverberated like a caress in Hernán’s anguished head. For whatever reason, Colin had made Hernán’s terrible problem his own. He had done it despite Hernán’s protest, despite his rudeness.
Some small part still worried what Colin might expect in return, but he crushed it viciously. No. He knew next to nothing about Colin except that he was apparently fucking rich. That he kept his money a secret. That the man he loved had married someone else. That he was laid low by too much to drink. That he went out of his way to repay the small kindness Hernán had shown when he fished him from the harbor…
Huh. It turned out he knew a lot about Colin after all. And one of the things that he knew was that Colin truly expected nothing in return.
Shelly bustled over. “Are you boys ready to order?”
The interruption gave Hernán time to get his head under some kind of control. He hurriedly ordered an omelet topped with pork and green chili.
Colin said, “That sounds good. Same for me please, and some more coffee.” He too sounded relieved at the chance to shift the focus. Shelly brought his coffee and then Sara stopped by their booth.
She rested a hand on Hernán’s shoulder. “I don’t know if either of you is free tonight, but Jane and I are hosting a potluck dinner. We’d love it if you could join us.”
Colin smiled up at her. “That’s really kind. I was originally heading back home today but I decided to stay another night. I’d love to come.”
Hernán had a feeling Sara and Jane read something into his lunch with Colin. Hernán never dated at all since he got to town, but they certainly knew Rudy and his reputation. They also knew Colin somewhat, apparently, and that he was gay. It wasn’t a huge stretch for them to think there might be something going on between Colin and Hernán.
He was certain, though, that they didn’t know Colin’s real secret. Sudden pride bloomed in his heart. Colin had trusted him with something he hadn’t even told Brandon, the man he was in love with.
Maybe…maybe Hernán could trust him too, with his terrible secrets.
Sara still looked at him expectantly. Oh right. The dinner. “I’d really like to join you, but I’m working at Veranda until eight.”
“Just come by after,” she insisted. “There’ll be plenty of food.” Colin looked hopeful as well. Against his better judgment, Hernán heard himself agreeing to go. Sara gave Colin the address, kissed Hernán’s cheek, and hurried off with Jane.
The two of them were quiet through the rest of their lunch. Hernán didn’t really know what to say, and Colin also seemed to struggle. He made a few noises about the food, asked for coffee, blushed as he looked at Hernán. When Shelly brought the check, they both reached for it.
A wordless argument took place across their faces:
Let me get this. You know I can afford it.
I don’t care. I owe you.
You saved me at the harbor.
You protected me from a monster.
Colin relented and dropped his fingers from the check. Hernán smiled at his small victory.