JUDE WAS trying really hard not to lose his cool, but the infuriating man would not get out of his way. Reese insisted on driving, which meant he was practically touching Jude in the front seat of his sporty electric car. His long arm stretched past the steering wheel, and his other one rested on the back of Jude’s seat as he was driving. He kept leaning close to Jude to look out the passenger window. Jude leaned back in his seat and tried to breathe.
“I’ve never even heard him talk about this place.”
Lucky’s was a short drive from the cottage, just over the border into Santa Monica. Jude had been taking Mr. Matheson there weekly to meet his friends for two hours every Thursday for the past year. He’d included that in the instructions he left for Reese, of course. Apparently he hadn’t paid attention. And why did he have to smell so good? Reese leaned across him once more to look around, and Jude sucked in a breath. He said a silent prayer for his sanity.
“The card game moved here from Lefty’s bar when he sold it. Mostly they eat the popcorn and peanuts, hassle the young waitresses, and play cards in the back room. Your grandfather tends to bet too much money and then forget how much he bet, and then there’s a big fuss. Hopefully things aren’t out of control.”
Just then a police car pulled up, thankfully with no lights or sirens. Reese and Jude watched in horror as two officers walked into Lucky’s. Through the window they could see the bartender pointing toward the back.
“Oh, shit,” Jude whispered as he let himself out of the car. Jude felt Reese hulking behind him as they entered the room. The bartender, a thirtysomething blonde named Darla, shook her head and offered a sad smile. Jude greeted her with a kiss to her cheek.
“So glad to see you, Jude. I’m sorry I had to call the cops, but things got out of hand today.”
“I’m sorry. We’ll take care of it,” Jude said to the woman he’d befriended in his many trips there. She’d always helped keep an eye on Mr. Matheson, especially if Jude had to leave him for a bit to pick up medications or whatnot.
Darla glanced at Reese curiously as she continued to clean up. Jude thanked her and walked through the pool tables toward a doorway covered in drapes. Shouting could be heard from inside.
“Mr. Matheson, if you don’t calm down, I’m going to be forced to handcuff you and put you in the back of my squad car. Now, can we please settle this?”
“Settle this?”
Jude flinched as his former charge shouted, pointed his finger at his best friend, and shook it vigorously. “This bastard ain’t gonna call me no cheat and get away with it. I’ll show you how we used to settle things back in Jersey.”
“Mr. Matheson,” Jude said softly. Though his voice was considerably lower than all the shouting, Mr. Matheson stopped arguing.
“Jude,” Mr. Matheson said, and most of the fight bled out of him. He looked hurt and confused more than anything. “Tell these sons of bitches that I don’t welsh. Tell them.”
Jude hurried to his side, put a hand on his arm, and gently coaxed him to take a seat. Mr. Matheson still wore his slippers and pajama pants with a sweater, a blazer, and a fedora. He brought a shaky hand up to steady his hat and glared at the cops.
“I’m sorry, officers. I’m Reese Matheson. Thomas is my grandfather.” Reese sidestepped Jude and approached the officers with his hand extended. The officers’ faces lit up as they shook the celebrity’s hand. Reese pulled them off to the side and left Jude to deal with his confused grandfather.
“Mr. Matheson, you left home without waking Reese. He’s been very worried about you.”
“That boy sleeps all day. I can’t wait around for him. I called a cab. You should be the one taking me to my places. Why weren’t you there this morning?”
Jude had already explained to Mr. Matheson that his grandson would be caring for him. He’d understood at the time.
“I just want to go home. I can’t believe they think I stiffed them. I always pay my debts.”
Lefty, the former gangster, now “retired businessman,” came over and placed a hand on Mr. Matheson’s shoulder.
“Now, Tommy, you can’t be coming in here betting these high amounts without no money on ya. It ain’t right, and these guys ain’t gonna take too kindly to being stiffed.”
Jude swallowed hard. “How much does he owe, Mr. Mancuso?”
Lefty glanced between Jude and Mr. Matheson and sighed. He knew exactly why Mr. Matheson was confused and had been incredibly patient. But it seemed his patience had run out. “I’ll take care of it, but you see to it that he ain’t here without his stake, you got me?”
“Yes, sir.”
Reese wandered over, and the police left, autographs in hand, no doubt. Jude wanted to ream him for letting the situation get out of hand. Reese had no idea that his grandfather played some serious cards with those old guys, and most of them had all of their faculties. They knew exactly how much Mr. Matheson was in for.
“Hey, Grandpa. You scared me this morning.”
Mr. Matheson gave him a blank look and turned to Jude. “I think I’m ready to go home now.”
Jude helped him to his feet and supported his weight when he suddenly seemed very weak. He likely hadn’t eaten since the night before, and it was going on two o’clock in the afternoon.
“Grandpa, how about we—”
Jude shot Reese a look over his shoulder that shut him up. He almost felt sympathetic when Reese’s handsome face fell like a kid being told he was grounded. The man-child had no comprehension of the severity of the situation.
The drive back to the cottage by the sea was quiet. Mr. Matheson hummed an old Sinatra tune to himself. Jude had become versed in the classics from the Rat Pack era while he lived with him. Thomas Matheson had been friends with those men after he left the Navy and moved to Las Vegas from New Jersey in the 1960s. He’d played with big bands in the casinos and became the go-to guy for the crooners when they needed a fantastic pianist. Thomas could sing and play anything, and he’d done it for hours with Jude as his biggest fan.
Reese had learned at his knee and made a career for himself as a singer-songwriter. He sold out shows all across the country, had been nominated for a Grammy, and had even won a Tony for work he’d done co-writing an original Broadway musical. Jude knew all about the younger Matheson’s career, as his grandfather bragged endlessly about him. The two were close, and very much alike—exactly why Jude knew the arrangement for Mr. Matheson’s care would never work. Reese was a wonderfully generous man and extremely charismatic, but he didn’t have the discipline it took to care for a man with his grandfather’s needs.
Reese pulled up in front of the cottage, and Jude immediately hopped out of the back seat to assist Mr. Matheson. Reese started to come around, but Jude waved him toward the door.
“If you can let us in, please,” he said in his calmest voice. “I think Mr. Matheson could use some supper and then take a nice nap.”
“That sounds fantastic, Jude my boy. How about them noodles you make for me? I miss them noodles.”
“Of course, Mr. Matheson. You come inside and have a seat in your recliner. I’ll have the soup ready in no time.”
REESE WATCHED helplessly. He sat across from Grandpa and tried to ask him what happened, but Grandpa dozed in his chair. Reese covered him with a blanket—the fall afternoon was chilly on the Southern California coast. It was the most beautiful time of the year. The sun showed off grandly after hiding behind the stubborn fog the past few weeks, and Reese wished he could pull on his wetsuit, paddle out into the waves, and let all of his stress from the past week flow away. At least he could breathe easier with Jude there taking care of things.
Jude. Lord, how that young man handled everything like a pro. His grandfather had fought him at every turn, but Grandpa did everything Jude asked with a smile and a nod. He had a magic touch. Reese wondered what it was about him that tamed his larger-than-life grandfather. He wanted to know him, wanted to understand where that magic came from.
The delicious smell coming from the kitchen reminded Reese that he too had gone without food. He turned the corner and watched Jude cut up vegetables and fry some shrimp in a skillet that crackled and popped next to a pot with boiling water.
“Your grandfather loves ramen. What can I say? I add veggies and meat to it to ensure he gets all of his nutritional needs met. He loves it.”
Reese was mesmerized by Jude’s graceful hands as he expertly chopped the carrots, green onions, and mushrooms. He scooped them into his hands and brushed them off into the pot with the boiling water. He moved through the kitchen as though he’d done it a million times. Which he had. God, what had he done, letting him go like that? What if he didn’t want to come back? Reese was at his wit’s end. He couldn’t do it alone any longer.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Reese murmured. He stood next to Jude by the sink.
Jude’s lips turned up slightly in a closed-mouth grin.
“I did this for Mr. Matheson. He’s been wonderful to me. I hate to see him….”
“You can say it,” Reese said with a sad smile. “I fucked up. I never should have taken this on by myself. I’m sorry.”
Jude shrugged. “You’ve always wanted the best for your grandfather. I know you thought what you were doing was right.”
Reese laughed at the backhanded compliment. “I just wanted to have the time with him. Things are finally settled enough that I can stay with him and—”
“And you found yourself needing a place to live. Look, Mr. Matheson—”
Reese couldn’t help himself. He reached out and placed a hand on Jude’s shoulder.
“Do you hate me that much that you won’t call me Reese?”
Jude’s dark eyes were wide as he turned to look up at him. He glanced at the hand still on his shoulder and then back into Reese’s face.
“I don’t. No. I don’t hate you. I just want to see Mr. Matheson cared for. I worry about him.”
Reese realized the second time Jude looked down at his hand that he hadn’t moved it yet. Jude’s shoulder was hard and firm beneath Reese’s hand. Muscular. His hand slid down involuntarily over an equally firm bicep. Jude cleared his throat.
“Will you stay?” Reese asked, his voice cracking. He stepped back and took a deep breath. What am I doing? “I need help.” Obviously. I just fondled his biceps. Really nice biceps. Reese shook his head. “I’d like to work out an arrangement with you.”
Jude turned back to the skillet, took the shrimp out with a spoon, and added them to the boiling water. He added the noodles and set the timer and then turned back around and faced Reese with determination on his face.
“I told you if I came back, we’d do this my way. Mr. Matheson needs round-the-clock care, and that’s too much for one person. Even I had assistance from a day nurse three days a week and my tita Germaine came over in the evenings so I could go to class. You do need help, Mr. Matheson. Reese. I’m happy to take the early shift, since that seems to be problematic for you. We can work out a schedule that you’ll promise to keep this time.”
Reese couldn’t help but notice that eyebrow again. Jude’s arms were crossed over his chest like they’d been when Reese let him go before, the same hip cocked out to the side. But this time Reese saw more than a man in scrubs. Jude may have been younger than him, but he had a commanding presence when it mattered. And he expected Reese to listen to him.
“And you must follow the routines I prescribe for Mr. Matheson so we don’t have a repeat of today. You can’t let him get off schedule. He becomes confused. We were lucky today. Next time might be worse.”
Reese needed to sit down. The idea that he could have lost his grandfather out there somewhere made him nauseated. He dropped his head into his hands and exhaled. Exhaustion weighed his body down, and he was near tears. A gentle hand squeezed his shoulder. Reese looked up, surprised to find Jude standing over him with a sympathetic expression that Reese probably didn’t deserve.
“I’ll do whatever you say,” Reese whispered. “Just help me, please? He means everything to me. I know he’s getting worse. I need a little more time with him.”
“He’s very special,” Jude said and, he smiled. Reese’s heart instantly felt lighter at the sight. Jude started to pull his hand away, and Reese caught it in his own.
“I can’t thank you enough for being here.”
Jude looked down at their hands together and paused. The timer beeped loudly, announcing the soup was ready, and made them both jump. Jude pulled his hand back and held it almost as though he’d been burned.
“I’ll get this ready for him. Will you please rouse him from sleep and help get his tray set up? Oh, and it’s almost four. He likes to watch Ellen while he has his supper.”
Now why didn’t I know that? Reese scolded himself that he hadn’t paid more attention to the notes Jude left for him. He stood with some effort, trudged into the living room, and patted Grandpa’s shoulder.
“Hey, old man. Time to eat.”
Grandpa sat up and blinked a few times. “Help me to the can, son.” Reese helped Grandpa out of the chair and down the short hallway to the bathroom. The two bedrooms were off to either side of the bathroom, and he cursed when he realized how messy he’d let things get since Jude left.
He waited in the hall until Grandpa was finished, sort of swaying on his feet and wishing he could fall into bed. Jude stepped into the living room with the bowl of soup for Grandpa.
“Is that noodles I smell, Jude my boy? Hot damn. I love that stuff. You got any of that hot sauce? I like it hot. Yes, indeed. Son, you gotta try this sauce Jude here puts in my soup. It’ll burn the hair off your balls,” he said and cackled as he sat slowly back down in his chair.
Jude shot Reese an amused look and then frowned at him. He hurried to Grandpa’s chair and made sure he was comfortable. Then he held the bowl for Grandpa and waited for him to get situated. Grandpa tucked a cloth napkin into his collar, held his spoon up in his hand, and licked his lips as Jude set the bowl on the tray in his lap.
“Here you go, Mr. Matheson. I’ll go grab the sriracha for you.”
Reese watched Jude do that thing where he practically floated through the room, his feet not even making a sound on the floor—unlike his own heavy stomping that used to drive his grandmother crazy when he visited them as a kid. Damn, he missed that lady.