Page 44 of Surrender

I turned to look at him. “Will it make you feel better if I’m there?” He seemed embarrassed as he ducked his head and nodded. “Then I’m definitely coming.”

At ten minutes to eight, an efficient valet whisked away my SUV, and we stepped into the lobby of an upscale high-rise hotelnear the Financial District. It was sleek and modern, with gold-on-gold seasonal decorations that were more about style than holiday cheer.

Tracy was fidgeting with a gift bag, which contained the nice bottle of twenty-year-old Scotch we’d bought on the way here. We’d decided to go with a fancy version of what he usually got his dad for Christmas, since we couldn’t think of anything else.

He turned to me and asked, “Do I look alright?”

I ran my hands down his biceps and murmured, “You’re absolute perfection.” Seeing him dressed in my clothes did something to me. It was almost like I’d marked him as mine… even though that had no basis in reality.

His dad was already at the restaurant when we arrived. After the hostess led us to our table, Tracy and his father shook hands. To me, that seemed surprisingly formal. Then Tracy said, “Dad, I’d like you to meet my friend Everett Daley. Ever, this is my father, Hector Garcia.”

His father and I studied each other curiously as we shook hands. He was about six-three with a heavyset build, a graying crew cut, and brown eyes like Tracy’s. He’d opted for a tan suit and tie—which was probably making Tracy regret switching from his original gift—and he seemed uncomfortable. I didn’t know if that had to do with me, his son, or the environment we were in.

“I had no idea this place was so swanky,” his dad muttered, as we all took a seat. “Otherwise, I would have suggested meeting somewhere else.”

I said, “We could still go to a different restaurant, sir.”

“Call me Hector, and we’re already here. Let’s just make the best of it.”

Tracy, meanwhile, seemed to have totally shut down. His posture was rigid, and he kept his gaze locked on the white tablecloth. When a waiter came by to take our drink order, hisfather and I both ordered wine, but he stuck with water. After an awkward pause, his father asked him, “Where are you working now?”

“I’m still a program assistant at the shelter.”

“That’s an awfully nice suit for someone who works at a nonprofit.”

“It’s borrowed. I didn’t have anything to wear to a place like this.”

“I didn’t realize it was going to be so fancy.”

“I know.”

After a moment, Hector ventured, “You know, the Army offers a lot of high-paying contractor positions for civilians. With my connections, I could get you an interview, no problem.”

“No, thank you. I like what I’m doing.”

“Sure, I get that. Isn’t it kind of a dead-end job, though? There’s not really any room for advancement, or?—”

“I don’t care about promotions. But as you know, I’m working toward a college degree, so I can become a counselor.”

“Right, but that’s going to take years,” his dad said. “You need a bachelor’s degree, then a master’s, right? Not to mention special certifications? I don’t know the whole process, but you’re going to be well over forty by the time you finish your studies, and then you’ll just be starting your career.”

“I’m not in any hurry.”

His dad kept pressing. “If you got a job as a contractor, you could still work toward your degree. But you’d also be able to put some money in the bank, with what those jobs pay. Like I was saying, with my connections, they’re yours for the asking.”

Tracy fidgeted with his napkin as he said, very quietly, “I already said no, Dad.”

An awkward silence descended on the table. After a while, I tried to make conversation by asking Hector, “How long are you in town?”

“I fly out first thing Sunday morning.”

“Where are you currently stationed?”

“I’m assigned to the American embassy in London through the end of the year.”

“Oh, wow. What’s that like?”

“Like any other assignment, really.”

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