Page 8 of Blue Umbrella Sky
He rushed over to her and dropped to his knees. Sobbing, he wrapped his arms around the gray-and-white dog, burying his face in her neck.
Billy watched, not daring to interrupt. It wasn’t enough that he was daddy-hot. And it wasn’t enough that he was the strong, silent type. Milt was a wounded warrior—Billy could tell—and that brought out his hopelessly nurturing side.
And now—seeing the depth of emotion Milt had for his dog? Well, that clinched it.
Billy was a goner. He was in love.
God help him, because, while he knew himself, he didn’t know if he’d stand a chance with this guy—and his broken heart.
Billy’s own heart, though still ticking, had been to some dark places. The shadows in those places, he sometimes feared had stained him—for life. He didn’t know if he had it in him to withstand the slings and arrows of that perfidious state called love.
Yet….
Billy let the happy reunion continue for a moment or so and then called out, through the dark, “You guys need to stay at my place tonight.”
Milt stood up uncertainly, gaze more on the dog than Billy, as though he feared looking away from her might cause her to vanish again, and asked, “Are you sure?”
Billy rolled his eyes. “Come on. You can’t stay in there. We need to get it dried out.” Billy thought himself very clever for working “we” into the conversation. “I know my place is tiny, but you and Ruby can have my bed and I’ll surf the couch. She like carnitas?”
“She likes everything, especially if there’s meat involved.”
Girl, you and I have something in common. I like meat too.Billy eyed Ruby, then gave Milt the once-over.Large quantities of meat.
Dog by his side, Milt came toward him. “If you’re sure we won’t be a bother….”
Billy rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. That’s what we do at Summer Winds. Help our neighbors out.”
Billy stared into Milt’s face and wasn’t sure if he saw guilt or gratitude there.
Chapter 4
THE CELLdoor slammed shut with a clang. The sound made Billy think of endings, final moments, points of no return. The clang was an echo that called out in the dark, “No tomorrow.” He watched as the guard walked away, whistling, not looking back.
“Dude. Hey, dude. You know what time it is?”
Billy looked over his shoulder at the man sharing the cell with him. Most people, Billy thought, would look at this guy and think “gangbanger,” but Billy could see beyond the neck tattoo and the black-and-white skull bandana, the baggy jeans and the tight white T-shirt and see a scared kid. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. Billy moved away from the bars to sit down on the cot opposite.
“What’s your name?” Billy asked.
“The fuck? I only asked if you knew the time, man.”
Billy smiled, leaning forward to peer more deeply into the boy’s dark, dark eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Jorge.” Billy noticed the way he rolled therin his name; there was a lilt there. Spanish was probably his first language.
“Billy.” He stared grimly around the little cell, taking in its bleak lack of color, its antiseptic smell covering up God knew what. A cockroach skittered across the floor, through the bars, and out of sight. Ah, sweet freedom. Even a cockroach was better off….
“So?” Jorge leaned a little forward, the metal chain securing his wallet clanking a little. “The time? You got it?”
Billy actually looked down at his wrist. But he hadn’t had a watch since a trick had swiped it one night down at Steamworks, the bathhouse in Boystown. That had been—what—a year ago now.
“I don’t know, Jorge. You got someplace to be? A hot date?”
That made Jorge chuckle.
“I would imagine it’s the wee small hours of the morning, like the song says.”
Jorge didn’t register any recognition of the song title. Billy would have been surprised if he did. “When I got picked up, the bar I was coming out of was closing. They have a 2:00 a.m. license.” Billy stared up at the water-stained ceiling, figuring. “With the trip here in the car, booking, and so on and so forth, I’d guess it’s going on four now. Maybe even five.” He eyed Jorge. “Will your mama be worried?”
