JACE SAT down at the small wooden table with a feast of roast beef, potato salad, the best cherry pie he had ever tasted, and a hot cup of coffee so good it made his toes curl.
He’d felt guilty when Mr. Shannon had given him the whole contents of the wonderfully smelling bag. It had obviously been his dinner, but Shannon had insisted. As if that hadn’t been generous enough, the fellow was off searching for his shaving kit to lend to Jace.
Pacing himself, Jace savored every juicy flavor, every crumb. He didn’t know when he’d next be eating anything, much less such a banquet. It had been days since he’d spent his last twenty-five cents on a meal, and he hadn’t been able to get to a soup kitchen since leaving Hardlucksville.
Speaking of luck, Jace could hardly believe his. There had been a couple of occasions where gentlemen had offered a meal, but it had come at a price, one Jace was unwilling to pay. He would rather starve. The handsome detective had assured him he wanted nothing in return, and although Jace kept his guard up, he felt oddly at ease around the man.
“Here we go.”
Jace looked up at the sound of the low, gravelly voice and pretended he wasn’t affected by the rugged attractiveness, especially the way Shannon stood there without his suit jacket and vest, a gun holster around his broad shoulders, and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing tanned, muscular arms. Mr. Shannon was disheveled, but it somehow made him all the more appealing. His rich tan set off his pale, blond hair and fair stubble growing on his chiseled jaw; his eyes were chocolaty brown and deep set. He gave off an air of arrogance and danger, with hands big and powerful enough to easily strangle a man to death. Jace had never been so frightened and enthralled in his life.
He quickly got ahold of himself. Good God, what was the matter with him? He shouldn’t even be having such thoughts, especially about a man he’d just met. Not to mention showing his attraction to a hardboiled man like Shannon could easily prove to be fatal. Jace had heard stories. Terrible stories. Ending up in prison or a workhouse would be the least of his worries. Shannon didn’t look like the kind of man to shy away from taking matters into his own hands.
Placing the shaving kit on the table, Mr. Shannon took a seat across from him, looking larger than life. The man had presence. “How’s the chow?”
Forgetting his manners, Jace garbled a reply through a mouthful, bringing a deep, low rumble of a chuckle from the detective. Washing his food down with some coffee, Jace smiled back.
“It’s delicious, thank you.” He continued to eat, aware of Shannon tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. It was pretty apparent the man wanted to say something, and Jace had a feeling he knew what it was. To his surprise, Shannon seemed to change his mind. Jace finished the last of his meal and left the rest of his pie for the moment. It was the least he could do.
“I was a clerk at First National Trust over on Madison,” Jace explained quietly. “My roommate and I had worked there since we graduated from college. We kept our living arrangement to help with expenses. I was hoping to save enough money for my own place, and Cecil was soon able to leave his job at the bank so he could dedicate his time to his music. Then of course, it became more difficult for him to find work, and he was forced to eat into what savings he had accumulated.”
“Let me guess.” Shannon smirked, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his long legs to make himself comfortable. “You ended up footing his side of the rent more often than you’d have liked.”
Jace nodded, not about to mention his roommate had also been his lover, which made the whole debacle all the worse. “I didn’t mind. I earned more than he did, and we’d known each other since school. One day he came home in a panic, begging me to lend him two hundred dollars.”
Shannon gave a low whistle. “That’s some pretty serious dough. What was he plannin’, a European cruise?”
“He told me it was best I didn’t know, that he was in desperate need of it,” Jace replied, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him, knowing how badly he’d been betrayed by the man who had supposedly loved him. “I gave him the money, no questions asked. He assured me it was a temporary loan, and he would have it back to me before I’d even miss it.”
“Don’t they always,” Shannon muttered. “So what’d the weasel do?”
Jace gave a small smile at the aptly appointed nickname. “He came back soon after and declared he’d found the woman of his dreams and was going to marry her. He’d used the money he borrowed from me to give himself credibility. I imagine you come across that sort of thing quite often in your line of work, Mr. Shannon. She’s a society girl with a wealthy daddy, you see. Cecil bought himself a new wardrobe, rented out a swanky apartment, and acquired an engagement ring. A week later, the bank I worked at was forced to close down. I lost every penny I saved, my job, my apartment, and my life as I knew it.”
“I take it Cecil was nowhere to be found?” Shannon smiled sympathetically. “And you can call me Bruce.”
“Thank you, Bruce. And yes. After losing my home, I went from flophouse to flophouse before finding myself in a shantytown in Central Park, but I had to move on when the police raided it. I spent some time in Hardlucksville before moving on and ending up on this street. That’s when I walked into your building.”
“You just walked in?” Bruce asked, surprised.
Jace nodded. “The door was wide open. Why?”
“It was closed when I came in. It always is. Mr. Moyer, the landlord, guards the door like a hawk. If he saw anyone leavin’ it open, he’d go off his nut.”
“Oh. Well, I suppose it’s bound to happen.” Jace noticed the mischievous look in Bruce’s eyes. “I meant the door being left open, not your landlord going off his nut, as you put it,” he added with a laugh.
“Just when I was starting to like you.” Bruce sighed. He motioned for Jace to get back to his pie, which he did, cheerfully. “As far as the whole roommate debacle goes, you know what your first mistake was?”
Jace swallowed and cocked his head to one side. “Lending Cecil the money?”
“No. Becoming friends with a mug named Cecil in the first place,” Bruce said solemnly.
Jace stared at him, stupefied. A grin overtook Bruce’s features, and Jace couldn’t help it—he laughed. Bruce joined in, and even Mittens came to see what all the fuss was about. Once they’d sobered up, Jace finished his pie and coffee, smiling like a dope the whole time. It had been a long time since he’d laughed, and it felt great. At least now when he went back out there, he’d go out feeling human again. It had been hard not to fall into despair, not to feel like he was less of a man because he couldn’t find steady work. Still, he kept himself going, grateful for what little he did find, whether it had been selling apples on the corner or shoveling snow or coal. He always made do somehow.
Bruce got up and disappeared down the small hallway, then returned a few minutes later with a bundle of clothes. Jace stared at them dumbly. “What’re they for?”
“They’re for you to wear. There’s a pair of socks, a clean undershirt, new underwear, and a tie. The shirt and suit’ll probably be big on you, but the belt should make the pants fit okay, and we can pin the hems up. I’ve got some shoes that’ll probably fit.” He popped the neatly folded clothes on the table. “You can flop on the couch. That’s what the pajamas are for.”
“You… you’re giving me these?”
“That’s the idea.”
Jace pulled the clothes over and hugged them to him like a most precious jewel as he tried his hardest not to cry. Mostly because Bruce looked embarrassed as it was. Lord knew what the poor man would do if Jace started bawling. Suddenly he remembered the pajamas, and he had to try doubly hard to keep his tears at bay. “You’re letting me sleep on your couch?”
“You a parrot? Stop repeatin’ what I’m saying,” Bruce grumbled. “Go clean up. There’s a laundry tub and a clothesline in there if you wanna wash your clothes. I’m gonna hit the hay. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned to Mittens and patted his leg. “Come on, girl. Bedtime.”
Feeling no words could possibly convey his gratitude, Jace simply nodded and made for the bathroom. It was the greatest feeling in the whole world, soaking in a hot bath, shaving, trimming his hair and combing it back, washing his clothes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good. It was amazing what one took for granted. Right then, he promised himself he’d never take another living space for granted ever again. By the end, he felt like a new man.
Dressing in the white-and-blue-striped pajamas, he couldn’t get the smile off his face. The cuffs of the pajama coat hung down to his fingertips, and he had to roll up the pants to keep them from dragging. It occurred to him the cotton touching his skin had once caressed Bruce’s muscular body, and his face went bright red.
For Pete’s sake, he had to put a stop to this. It was Bruce’s kindness that had him thinking such inappropriate thoughts. It was shameful to allow his mind to wander in such a direction. This was no time to be fantasizing. Come tomorrow, he would be sent on his way and his gratitude would be no less. It was going to be difficult, but he could do it. If he couldn’t find work in New York, he’d simply have to ride the rails like so many others and head west. Maybe someday he could come back and thank Bruce properly. Maybe they could even become friends. He liked the idea.
Jace found his way to the couch, which had a plump pillow and warm blanket waiting for him. Somehow, he wasn’t so afraid anymore, and as he lay down, he knew he’d be all right. The living room was cozy and very much belonged to a bachelor. The carpet was faded, as was the wallpaper. There were two dark green armchairs matching the couch he lay on, positioned to either side of the large Philco radio. One of the chairs had a footstool that was more worn than the other. It was most likely the armchair Bruce sat in after a long day, his feet up on the stool. Did the detective ever get lonely? Jace didn’t know much about private investigators, other than many were considered to be disreputable.
Against the far wall was a bookshelf with lots of books. Curious, Jace stood and tiptoed to the shelves. He shouldn’t be nosing around the man’s living room, but he wanted to know more about the generous detective who’d done more for him than anyone he’d ever known in his life. Was that so terrible? Luckily there was enough light coming in from the small curtained window for him to see the small volumes. They appeared to be… dime novels. Everything from detectives to romance. The thought of the gruff detective reading romance novels brought the sappiest smile to Jace’s face.
Not wanting to intrude further on Bruce’s privacy, Jace headed back to the couch and lay down. In no time, he was fast asleep, a big smile still on his face.