Page 73 of Street of Dreams
Mac returned to Los Angeles with his head spinning. He’d been home for almost a week and still couldn’t stop thinking about Jake. It was easy to turn off his emotions before, when he hadn’t seen the guy in months, but now, it was impossible. Touching Jake, kissing him and making love to him, opened Mac’s heart to full bloom, and he couldn’t deny it any longer. He was still in love with Jake. Wandering around his apartment in a daze, he suddenly stopped dead with the realization that he never told Jake how he felt. He left Jake’s “I love you” hanging in the air without a reply.
Shaking his head, he berated himself because he knew that Jake was living in hell, while he was living his dream. He felt like a piece of shit and couldn’t let another second go by without letting Jake know that he still loved him. He started to call but remembered that Jake blocked his number. It didn’t matter, because what he needed to say, needed to be said in person.
He packed a duffle bag, taking just the essentials, and took the next flight to Chicago. A Town Car picked Mac up at O’Hare, but instead of going straight to see Jake, he went home to see his parents. A heavy bout of homesickness engulfed him the moment he saw the house. He should have never waited so long to see his parents. It was selfish, and he’d never stay away this long again.
There was a six-foot gate around the property now. It was made of black wrought iron, with scrolls around the pickets and spikes at the top. A matching security door framed the entrance. He worried he’d need to ring the bell and ruin the surprise, but the security door was unlocked. The main door was still the same and his key fit in the knob. “Ma! I’m home!”
A loud clang came from the kitchen. “Reid!” She came running in to greet him, arms wide open.
Her hair was pulled back in a bun, and she wore the same apron she always wore. It was as if he never left. He dropped his duffle and met her halfway between the dining room and the kitchen and hugged her. The scent of shortbread wafted in from the kitchen, and it smelled like home. “I missed you so much, Ma. I’m sorry I didn’t come home sooner.”
She wiped her eyes. “I missed ye too. Are ye good. Did ye eat? I can make something.”
“I’ll have some of that shortbread.”
As he sat at the kitchen table, eating shortbread and drinking tea, his ma sat across from him and smiled. “We’re so proud of ye, Reid. On the TV and the radio. I know we talk all the time, but it’s so good to see ye face in person. Yer da is gonna be so happy ye’re home.”
Regret made the shortbread sit in his stomach like a rock, and he leaned forward to take his ma’s hand. “Are you sure you and Da are making out OK without me here? Is everything OK at the pub?”
“Aye. Business is doing well.”
“What about the fence and the security door? Has there been burglaries? I’m worried about you two alone here.”
“Nay. But we’re not here alone. Jake King comes by the house daily.”
Mac choked on his tea. “Jake comes here?”
“Aye. He’s a good lad. Surprised the heck out of yer da and me. He makes sure someone comes and tends to the lawn and shrubbery. Helps me with the groceries and yer da with the rubbish. He’s the one who insisted on the fence and security door. Paid for it too.”
Mac opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form a coherent sentence. He sat back in his chair and looked at his ma as he tried to comprehend what the hell was going on. “Since when has Jake been coming here?”
“Since ye left.” She squeezed his forearm apologetically. “Don’t get upset. He didn’t want us to tell ye.” She pressed her lips together and dropped her eyes to the table, then withdrew her hand.
Mac sighed, knowing there was more. “What else?”
She paused, then pushed her chair back and stood up. “Come with me. I need to show ye something.”
He followed her to the garage with a cloud of perplexing thoughts circling his head. The sound of the garage door opening turned his attention back to whatever his ma wanted to show him. There was a fancy car where he’d left his old Chevy. “Whose car is this?” he asked, as bewildered as ever. Then he remembered that the title to the Chevy was still in his da’s name, and fear made his mouth drop open. The first thing he did was snap his head toward the driveway to look for his car, but it wasn’t there. “Where’s my Chevy?” he asked, slightly panicked. “If Jake talked you into selling it—”
“Nay. It’s right here.” She extended her arm toward the interior of the garage. “This is ye car. The old clunker. Jake fixed it up.”
Mac blinked. It couldn’t be, but it was. His old faded Chevy, with the dented bumper and peeling paint, had been restored to a gleaming beauty. He slowly walked around the car, ogling its mirror-like black paint. When he reached the front of the vehicle, he stopped. There was a Hemi motor with twin barrel carburetors poking through the hood, transforming his daily ride into a hot rod. He opened the door and the shiny black leather seats filled his head with sweet memories. They’d started this journey together, and Jake finished it on his own. “I can’t believe he did this.”
“Aye. All with his own money. I half expect ye’ll be gettin’ a bill, so I hope ye like it.”
He loved it. The car turned out more beautiful than he had envisioned. And he loved Jake for doing it, more than ever. He slid into the seat and looked through the crystal-clear windshield, which had been pitted and blemished. As he sat there, memories flooded him. He touched the rich black leather next to him and reminisced about the day Jake surprised him with the seats. It seemed like a lifetime ago. His world had changed so much since then. He now had money and fame. Notoriety and opportunities. But he didn’t have the most important thing in the world . . . his heart. Before he left South Side, and before Bruce ruined everything, Mac’s heart had been full and bursting at being with the man he loved. Now, his heart was a decaying pit in his chest.
“Why ye look so sad, Reid? Don’t ye like it?”
He looked up at his ma, grappling with the heartache that consumed him. “I love it.”
She nodded. “He did a lovely job. Aye?”
“Aye,” he agreed, a small smile returning to his lips. Gripping the steering wheel, he surveyed the new dash and door panels. He remembered how mismatched and out of place the new seats looked against the old battered interior when he had helped Jake install them. Now, everything looked pristine. Even the sun visor, which used to constantly fall in front of his eyes when he was driving, stayed in position against the headliner. He pulled it down, and keys fell into his lap.
“Take it for a drive,” his ma suggested.
He put the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life with power. The old Chevy, that used to breathe smoke and carbon monoxide, surged down the street with a deepglug, glug, glugof the powerful engine. Instead of stalling at red lights, it took off at high speed. The numerous knocks and rattles were gone. He no longer felt as if his spine were going to crack with each pothole in the road. The only thing he felt was the smooth vibration of the motor as the new suspension propelled the vehicle down the asphalt. He veered onto I-90, so he could really open her up, and accelerated a little too fast. The car chirped and surged forward. He let out an excited laugh and let off the gas, cruising at a more realistic speed and enjoyed the ride.
