Page 21 of Tropical Heat

My father did not have Mom's faith or strength of character. After she passed, he used the pills she left behind to dull his own pain. When they ran out, he began buying drugs on the street.

As his addiction grew, so did the number of days he was absent from work. Eventually, Mr. Jergensen had no choice but to let him go. That was when he started stealing to finance his habit. A neighbor awoke one night to find him sneaking out a window with her laptop under his arm and called the police.

It was his first time in jail and my first experience with the foster care system. Not the last for either of us. Every time he was released, it was the same promises—he was going to get clean and find a new job. I was young, naïve, and wanted to believe him.

Somewhere in my late teens, I realized he was weak and would never change. If I let him, my father would disappoint me until the day he died. I broke off all contact with him and have never regretted my decision.

The whistling stopped and Zak stuck his head into my room. “You look so handsome in your dress uniform,” he said, trying to cheer me up. “LCSD should use you in all of their recruiting ads.”

“Thanks, I’ll mention it to the lieutenant.”

“I can still go with you,” he offered. “It would only take me a minute to change.”

“Thanks, but it’s not necessary. I'll be seated with the other pallbearers, and you didn't really know Coop or his family that well.” I checked my jacket pocket to make sure I had the white gloves. “Enjoy your day off. God knows neither of us gets enough of them.”

“Okay. Just know that Oliver and I are here if you need us.” The dog barked and wagged his tail, as he did anytime he heard his name.

“Quiet, you mutt,” I growled at him, trying to suppress a smile. “I never asked about your date. How did it go? Did you get laid?”

“A gentleman never tells,” he said. But his red cheeks told me everything I needed to know.

“Good for you.” I meant it. I was happy for him. And a bit jealous. “Are you going to see her again?”

“I'm taking her up to Marina del Mar next week.”

“Marina del Mar? Oh, please tell me you're not taking her on that fucking boat ride. I can't believe I ever let you talk me into that." It was the longest two and a half hours of my life.

Back in the nineties, some big shot attorney had found the boat they used inThe African Queenrotting away in some field.Spent a small fortune having it restored. Now his family gives tourists rides up and down the canal on it. I had let Zak talk me into checking it out once. The boiler powered engine made for a hot, noisy ride. Would not recommend.

“She is a huge fan of the movie. Look at the text she sent me.” I was adjusting my tie and told him to just read it to me. “‘I found the perfect umbrella for our cruise in the secondhand store this afternoon. Going to stop at Publix after work for a bottle of Gordon’s gin. Can’t wait!’”

“Did you tell her you don’t drink?”

“The gin’s not for drinking.” He gave out a dramatic sigh. “Don’t you remember the scene where Rose pours Charlie’s booze into the river?” I stared back at him, blank eyed, and shrugged. Zak gave an exasperated huff.

“It’s not my thing, but she sounds perfect for you.”

“She is. But there’s a problem.” He brushed a stray hair off my lapel and I caught a whiff of his warm, slightly spicy scent. “She's seeing someone else and wants to keep things casual between us.”

“Ouch.” I tried not to smile. “So I guess if you wanted to fuck someone else, she would be okay with it, then?”

“I guess, but she’s the only person I’m seeing, so it doesn’t matter.”

“A good-looking guy like you wouldn’t have much trouble finding someone to hook-up with. Maybe your handsome roommate?” I suggested with a wink.

“Not now, Dante. I really like this woman, and don’t feel like joking about it.”

I should have taken him in my arms right then. Made him see I was not joking. That I had genuine feelings for him. But you can't make someone love you. I turned away so he wouldn't see the hurt in my eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“The only thing I can,” he said. “Keep seeing her, hope she eventually falls in love with me, and dumps the other guy.”

I felt his pain. Could there be a greater hurt than to love someone and know they had feelings for another? I told him I hoped his plan worked before leaving for the funeral.

Growing up with a father who's both a drug addict and a petty criminal taught me I could trust no one. When a parent, the one person in the world you should be able to count on, continually lets you down, you eventually learn to keep your emotions hidden. It was a lesson I had learned well, and one that kept me from opening up with Zak about my feelings for him.

When we first met, I believed that despite his protests to the contrary, like me, he was bisexual. I can't describe how I knew exactly. Just that when we were alone, he gave off a certain vibe.

Overtime, I had convinced myself he felt the same way for me as I did for him. That he was just conflicted about his sexuality and once he accepted his true self, we could be a couple. But now he was hung up on this woman.

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