We jogged across the grass to the field. At our entrance, one of the coaches ran to us. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, we were wondering if you have any spare team shirts you can give us.”
“For?”
“A corporate scavenger hunt.” I decided to throw out my idea whether they asked us or not. “We’re happy to make a donation to the team fund.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Don’t see why not. Any size?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I extracted two twenties from my wallet and handed them to him. “Is this okay?”
“Sure thing. Hang on a sec. I have an extra in my bag.” He left us, and we watched him rummage in his bag and pull one out.
Shirt in hand, the coach returned. “Here ya go.”
Manny took it and handed the coach some more bills. “Add that to our contribution.”
“Thanks.” He pocketed the money, returned to his players, and we trudged through the grass to the front of the school and the street.
“I wonder what the other teams have to get,” Manny said. “Hopefully it won’t be easy for them.” At my surprised face, he grinned. “Johnny says I’m too competitive.” He shrugged. “But you know how it goes. Being gay and Hispanic puts me behind the eight ball. I have to work twice as hard to even get noticed.”
It shamed me that I hadn’t really given it much thought. Manny just seemed like a nice, fun man. I hadn’t considered his struggles. “Has it been hard at the firm?”
“No. One of the reasons I was eager to join was the diversity in the makeup of attorneys.” He pulled out his phone and punched in the address for the bar, which was, according to the app, almost ten miles away. A grunt escaped him. “It’s not like the city here for sure. The car won’t be here for at least ten minutes.”
We sat on the steps of the school, a warm breeze playing across our faces. Listening to the birds singing and the rustle ofleaves on the trees, I realized I rarely took the time to sit and enjoy the quiet surrounding me.
“Maybe that’s a good thing. I can’t remember the last time I simply sat and did nothing.”
Beside me, Manny stared straight out. “We’re kinda always in a rush, huh? Guess it’s the way we live—crowds and competition forcing us to be a step ahead.”
“You grew up in the city?”
“Yeah. Sunset Park. My old man washed dishes in a Mexican restaurant, and my mother was a school lunch lady.” His smile held a combination of pride and sadness. “First in my family to graduate from high school. When I got into Pace, mymamicried and showed everyone in the neighborhood my acceptance letter.”
“What did she do when you graduated law school?”
“She was in line at five in the morning to make sure she got a prime seat to see me walk across the stage.” Deep brown eyes met mine. “The owner of the restaurant my father worked at closed it down and threw me a party. He said I was the future.” Tears sparkled on his lashes. “I came out to my parents that night, and for a month my father didn’t talk to me. When I’d enter the room, he’d walk out.”
I’d heard similar stories from some of my clients, but it never failed to upset me. “And now?” Almost afraid to ask, I had to know.
“It took a while. Thankfully, he never called me names or anything like that. He’s old-school and doesn’t get it, but he’s trying. When Johnny and I decided to get married, we just had a small ceremony, and they came. Mymami, she’s been cool all along. Loves Johnny and tells everyone her son-in-law is a doctor.” He chuckled. “Brags to all her girlfriends how goodJohnny is to her—and he is. Brings her flowers, and she’s taught him to cook some of my favorite foods. My father and Johnny bonded over sports. Johnny’ll watch anything—soccer, football, baseball…if there are men running around on a court or a field, he’s there. They go to the games and leave me at home.”
The car pulled up, and I squeezed his shoulder. “I’m glad.”
On the drive, Manny got a call, and his face lit up. “It’s Johnny. Excuse me.Mi corazon. How are you?”
Shutting out Manny’s conversation with his husband, I checked my phone to find it depressingly empty. I sent Bill a message to say hi. I thought about the text Weston had received from his father and how much animosity there was behind the words. Despite myself, I googled the senator to see what else I could find.
Senator Preston Lively was without a doubt a good-looking man, but there was a cruel tilt to his lips and no hint of kindness in his icy gaze. Recalling how Bill would take me to the park on the weekends to play ball, or how every Sunday night was pizza and a movie, I doubted Weston had that kind of relationship with his father. I read on.
Weston’s father’s family had been in politics for decades. Was his father angry at Weston for not following his path? Could that be the reason for their estrangement? I scrolled farther and found a gossip piece, more than twenty years old, which insinuated that the then-councilman Lively had been seen in the company of other women. I couldn’t find another article. Someone with Preston Lively’s power and position could easily have a story like that buried. Infidelity was a more likely culprit than Weston failing to enter politics and would explain the ugly vitriol between them.
“Whatcha looking at? Must be pretty intense.” Manny cocked a brow.
No way would I reveal I’d been digging into Weston’s past. “Nah, just reading the headlines. Nothing good.” I huffed out a laugh.
“Well, forget it.” Their phones buzzed in unison. “That’s Boris. He said the theater is closed, so they can’t get the playbill.” His lips twitched, and a cackle burst from him. “They ended up searching the dumpster to find one. Remind me not to shake his hand.”
