Free to Fly

Chapter 1

At eight pm, the streetlights were beginning to glow and the scent of summer grilling still lingered on the warm summer air. The breeze carried the scent of the Pacific Ocean and in the distance, he could hear the churning engine of a boat. Vincent Sala coasted his Harley to a stop at the curb, gazing around at the neighborhood he already missed. The house he’d lived in this past year had never really evolved into a home, in spite of all the hopes he’d cherished. Tonight would begin the end of the most heart-felt, frustrating relationship he’d ever had in his life.
True love doesn’t always prevail.
The lights were on in the kitchen and living room. He frowned, triggering the garage door opener and rolling the bike in next to Daniel McGee’s upscale SUV. It was Friday; Danny’s flight to St. Louis would depart in just a few hours. He was tied up in a big case and deposition began on Monday morning. If not for the house lights, Vincent would suspect that his soon–to-be ex had taken the airport shuttle. Unfortunately, a raised voice told him otherwise. This couldn’t be good.
Vince had planned to start packing tonight. He glanced around the garage…this was his space. When he’d first moved in, he’d taken mercy on Daniel, clearing the garage of its myriad moving boxes, storage and general clutter. Danny had been parking on the street up till then. He sighed. The garage was large enough that he’d been able to set up a workbench and his tools. Having lived in apartments all his life, Vincent had never had the luxury of space. Maybe it was time he bought his own place. One with a garage.
He hadn’t planned to pack and run, that was the coward’s way out. He’d intended to pack, wait for Daniel to return home next week, and then have the talk. It wouldn’t come as a surprise; they’d both been miserable these past few months. This way was probably better. He wasn’t much of believer in letting a bad situation drag out. It’s just that he’d hoped that this was the real thing…a life commitment. It wasn’t hard to visualize forever with Daniel McGee. At least…when things were good. Unfortunately, the good times were now few and far between.
Vincent slipped his helmet off, hung it on the wall and ran a hand over his sweaty, bristly scalp. He grabbed his satchel from the saddlebag, counted to ten, and then opened the door, stepping into chaos.
Danny was pacing the kitchen, cell phone to his ear, laptop open on the table, and his suitcase tipped over on its side by the doorway. Paper spilled from his briefcase and he didn’t even bother to nod in Vincent’s direction. His cheeks were flushed and his carefully cut hair was ruffled. If ever there was a man on the road to a heart attack, it was Daniel. He wasn’t even thirty yet.
Shucking his leather jacket, Vincent headed for the utility closet where he unbuckled and hung up his leathers. He unlaced his riding boots and kicked them on the floor next to a pair of ancient steel-toes. He straightened then before turning around.
“Carrie…can you please just check again? I swear, I’ve got a travel site up right now, they show another flight going out in just a couple hours….you did?” Hand to his head, Daniel clutched his hair. “Carrie…seriously…seriously…no, tomorrow afternoon is too late. I’m supposed to meet with the clients first thing. OK….ok…just do your best…” He powered off the phone, stared at it and his hand tightened convulsively.
“Don’t.” Vince warned, pulling open the refrigerator door. Not much in there, he should have just eaten on the road.
“Fuck this shit,” Daniel mumbled, kicking the suitcase on his way out of kitchen. A heartbeat later, he was back in the room. “They canceled the fucking flight. Mechanical issues. Everything else is booked…Carrie can’t even get me on stand-by till tomorrow afternoon!” He started pacing again. Vincent pulled bread and peanut butter from the cupboard, and jam from the fridge. He carefully made a couple sandwiches, letting Daniel rant. He considered a bottle of beer, and chose milk instead. Neither of them needed alcohol tonight.
He watched his lover in the reflection of the kitchen window. Danny was dark-haired and slender; beautiful in the way that only certain men can be. He was as comfortable in a flannel shirt and jeans as he was in cashmere and wool. And most of the time, his personality was sunny as his smile. Unfortunately, clouds had been dimming his light. He couldn’t remember the last time Daniel had laughed. Something was wrong and Danny wasn’t talking.
Vincent looked at his own dim reflection and marveled at how they’d managed to come together. If ever there was an odd couple, it was Vince and Danny. Where Danny was chic and urbane, Vincent was rough, with his buzz-cut hair and guarded brown eyes. His hands were rough and his muscles where cut from years of hard work. At six foot three and a half inches, he towered over most men.
Vince was a chef, but he’d certainly never gone to culinary school. An inner city kid rarely had the funds for fancy cooking academies. He’d sweated away in kitchens from the time he was a kid, working for whatever wage he could get, and for free when he had to. He’d graduated high school only because it made sense to have that bit of paper in hand. He spoke Italian, French and Spanish…enough to get by with most of his co-workers. He could even pull out a bit of Cantonese when necessary.
The year Daniel entered grad school, Vince landed his first position as executive chef in an upscale restaurant in the City. At the time Danny passed the bar exams, Vincent graduated from executive chef to business owner. Their meeting was a stroke of serendipity. Danny was celebrating his promotion to junior partner and Vincent was playing host at Tapas, his third restaurant. He’d seated the lawyers, looked into a pair of dark blue eyes and lost his heart. No one was as surprised as Vincent at the whirlwind speed of their romance. On night they went out for drinks. One morning he woke up in Danny’s house on the channel. Not long after, he moved out of his apartment and into Danny’s place. He’d never once questioned his decision. Not even now that he was leaving. And damn, his heart was aching.
He turned, eating his sandwich while Danny returned to his laptop and begin yet another search. “I could drive to Oakland…maybe even Sacramento.”
“Or you could go tomorrow. Be nice to have an evening at home. Together.”
It was a futile hope, a last minute offer of détente, but Vincent grabbed onto that last little bit of desperate hope. It was stupid, especially since he'd already decided to leave. But he loved Daniel and didn’t want to lose him. Could one night make the difference?
“The depo’s on Monday, Vince. I need all the prep time I can get.”
“You’re a good lawyer, babe. Nobody knows this case as well as you. If it’s necessary, you can do a teleconference in the morning and then meet your clients on Sunday.”
That comment met with cold silence.
When Daniel slammed the lid of the laptop closed, he jumped. The tension in the room went up another notch. He turned, washed his dishes and put them in the drainer, then started upstairs. Sweat and road grime covered his face and clothing. Now, his soul was as weary as his body.
“Where were you all day?”
He paused. Sighed. “I was up the coast a ways. There’s been a place up there I had my eye on for a couple years. The owners contacted me last month; they want to sell. I spent the day with their lawyer, hammering out terms.”
“You bought another restaurant? Don’t you think three is enough?” Danny turned in the chair, looking at him with a devastating mix of shock and dawning realization. “As it is, I never see you anymore!”
Now there was a bit of irony, considering how many twelve-hour days Danny had been putting in lately. Not to mention the out of town cases that had kept him from home. Vince’s anger surface, and he brutally shoved it down.
Vincent carefully cleared his throat. “I’m selling Tapas. Had an offer on it. Thought I’d try something new.”
“You’re selling Tapas? But that’s where--”
“I know, Danny. It’s special to me too, but this is business. It’ll turn a substantial profit.”
“Profit.” He snorted in disgust. “Business. That’s pretty much all you think about, isn’t it?”
“Your business drags you all over the country. You do it for profit.” The anger rising in Vincent was different than usual. It was hot and nasty; putting him right at the edge of a precipice he’d avoided most of his life. Big guys like him couldn’t afford to lose their temper. It was dangerous in so many ways…
“I do my job. I’m not selling something I love for money.”
Well ouch.
“It’s a business; a building and a name. It’s not me and it’s certainly not my soul.”
He glared at Danny, who was pacing again. Danny’s cell rang and he picked it up, glancing to see who was calling. “Yes?” He waited…listening. “Great. Just great.” He sighed. “I understand. It’s not your fault, Carrie. You go home and make sure you put this on your timecard. Okay? I’ll see you next week.” He ended the call. “Nothing till tomorrow.” He stared at the phone in his hand.
“Danny…”
His arm came back and he hurled the phone across the room. The expensive device narrowly missed the window as it slammed into the wall, shattering into pieces. Danny whirled, bracing himself against the table. His face was flushed with anger. Grief.
“You’re dumping the restaurant just like you’re dumping me. You’re heartless, you know that?” For a loaded moment, they glared at one another.