The Distance (12 page)

“You wouldn’t be able to keep that promise, once you found out what it was.”

“Oh, come on. How bad could it be?”

“Really incredibly horrible.”

“Now I’m dying of curiosity.”

I picked up the business-size envelope and placed it face-down on my lap with a teasing grin. “I’ll miss you when you die.”

“Damn it, my name was my only bargaining chip!” He put down his mug, got up and crossed the three feet between us before dropping to his knees in front of me. As he captured my wrists, he said, “Please? Just tell me. I’ll never use it, and I’ll never make fun of it, I swear.”

He was so handsome, and as he looked up at me with those big, dark eyes I had a powerful urge to kiss him. I fought it though, and instead leaned forward and rested my forehead against his. After a moment, I murmured, “What were we talking about?”

“Names. Yours and mine.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I got you drunk, didn’t I? Sorry, that wasn’t intentional.”

I sat up a bit and looked at him. “I’m not that drunk, just nicely buzzed. And you know you have to let go of me eventually. When you do, I can pick up almost any envelope or sheet of paper in here and read your name, so I have zero incentive for telling you mine.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Go out with me and I will,” I said with a smile.

He rubbed my wrists with his thumbs and said, “I’m going to. I shouldn’t, because I really think this might turn into more than I bargained for, but I’m way too attracted to you to deny myself at least a little time with you.” Trigger let go of me and picked up a small notepad and a pen from the desk. He handed them to me, took the envelope, and said as he looked in my eyes, “Trade your name for mine, not because you have to, but because you want to. Write it on a piece of paper and hand it to me when I give back the envelope.”

“This is really important to you.”

He nodded. “It’s not just because I’m curious. You came here to tell me you were wrong about me. Show me you believe that. I’ve promised not to laugh or make fun of your name. I want to know you trust me.”

I watched him for a long moment. Then I wrote three words, tore the sheet off the pad, and folded it in half. As I returned the pen and notepad to the desk, I said, “I was teased mercilessly for this name all throughout my childhood. My dad’s a Baptist minister, so my brothers and sister and I were all given Biblical names, but I got the worst of the lot. I changed it as soon as I was out on my own. Funnily enough, there’s also a Jesse in the Bible, but I didn’t think of that when I renamed myself. I just liked the name, especially the way I chose to spell it. It feels right to me, like this is what I should have been called all along.”

I handed him the slip of paper, and he handed me the envelope. I watched him closely as he unfolded it, and I expected him to burst out laughing. But instead he said gently, “That’s a pretty shitty thing to do to a kid. I’m sorry you had to grow up with that. It was an absolute guarantee you’d get teased.”

“That showed remarkable willpower. I can’t believe you didn’t crack up.”

He handed the note back to me. “I’m a dad. It’s absolutely heartbreaking when my child gets teased. I’d do anything to protect her from the cruelty of other children, but your parents pretty much set you up for it. No way am I going to add to all you must have endured by laughing at you.”

That meant more to me than he could ever imagine. I looked at what I’d written in my tiny handwriting and said, “Those names remind me not only of being teased mercilessly, but of a family that doesn’t want me anymore. I’m so glad I don’t have to be Jehosaphat James Jorgensen ever again.” I crumpled the paper and tossed it into a nearby trash can, and embraced Trigger as a lot of emotion welled up in me. “I’d gotten so used to being laughed at. That’s literally the first time in my life that someone my age didn’t instantly treat my name like a big joke.”

He kissed the side of my head and hugged me. “I didn’t realize how much was behind your name change. I’m sorry I pushed.”

“It’s okay.”

After a few moments, he said, “Your turn.”

I let go of him and turned over the envelope in my hand. Then I grinned and asked, “How do you pronounce your last name?”

“Kah-hall-lay.”

“It says, ‘To the parent or guardian of Isabella Kahale.’ I think it’s from Izzy’s school.”

“Oops.” He grabbed a few more envelopes from the desk and quickly rifled through them, then handed me one.

I read out loud, “Malakai Kahale.”

“I just go by Kai.”

“That’s a beautiful name. Is Kahale Hawaiian?” He nodded and I asked, “Have you ever been there?”

“I was born on the Big Island and spent the first part of my life in a small town outside Hilo. But when my dad died, my mom moved us to San Francisco to live with her mother. I was fifteen when we came here.”

“I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Thanks.”

“That must have been some pretty extreme culture shock, moving here after growing up in a small town in Hawaii,” I said as I put down the envelope.

“It was like moving to a different planet.”

“Do you think you’ll ever move back?”

“No. My family’s here now and I want to stay close to them.”

I looked around at the wood-paneled walls and asked, “How long have you had this garage?”

He sat back on his heels and said, “I bought it when I turned eighteen.”

“Wow. How’d you manage that?”

“My dad left me some money. He was the person who taught me to work on cars, they were his passion and they became mine, too. The Mustang I race was his prize possession, by the way. He wanted it to be a part of my inheritance, so my mom paid a fortune to ship it to the mainland when we moved here, way more than the car was worth at the time, actually. Anyway, I turned eighteen and got the rest of my inheritance three months before Izzy was born. I thought about how I could support myself and my child and decided to buy a garage, because fixing cars is the only thing I’m good at. I’m a shitty businessman though, and I’ve had a hard time getting it to turn a profit. I’ve had some pressure to sell it, but I can’t give up. It means way too much to me.” He stopped talking and grinned self-consciously. “That was a long answer to a simple question. Sorry.”

“Was the garage named Kit’s when you bought it?”

He shook his head, and then he moved back to the bed, pushed off his sneakers, and stretched out on his side. “I named it after my dad. His real name was Keikilani, but everyone called him Kit. Don’t ask me how his family got that from his name.”

“Is Malakai a Hawaiian name?”

“No, my mom just liked it.”

I said, “I’m glad I have something else to call you now besides Trigger. Did you name yourself after a horse on purpose?”

He chuckled at that. “That word has other contexts too, you know. Why does it have to refer to a horse that’s been dead for fifty years?”

“Good point. How’d you pick your racing name, anyway?”

“The first time I raced go-karts as a kid, my dad said I took off so fast that it was like someone had pulled a trigger. He started the nickname, and it just felt right to use it for racing.”

“It sounds like you and your dad were really close.”

“We were,” Kai said. “I could tell him anything.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died of stomach cancer at forty-three, a month and a day after being diagnosed with it. He showed symptoms for more than a year, but he just wrote it off as indigestion. He was always popping those chalky antacid tablets. My mom kept bugging him to go to a doctor, but he was a hard worker and didn’t want to take time off for something he thought would just go away on its own. By the time he finally went in, it was already in stage four.”

“I’m so sorry, Kai.”

“It was a long time ago.” I could tell it took a lot of effort for him to keep his emotions in check as he said that.

After a pause, I said, “Thank you for opening up to me. I didn’t expect that. You always struck me as the strong, silent type.”

“You just never bothered to talk to me. I mean, I’m not blaming you. I didn’t talk to you either. I tend to keep to myself at the races.”

“I noticed.”

“I will say, normally I’m not this chatty. I’ve had a lot to drink tonight.”

I asked, “How much beer did you have before I got here?”

“A six-pack.”

I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “I know this isn’t how you usually spend your Saturday night. Will you be back at the races next weekend?”

“Will you be there?”

“Does that change your answer?”

“No. I was just curious.”

I said, “I’m planning on going.”

The whiskey was making me bold, so I reached out and lightly stroked his hair. He watched me for a while before asking, “Does the offer of dinner Friday still stand?”

I nodded and told him, “I would have asked you out for tomorrow night, but the kitchen will be in use. Nana always makes a big Sunday dinner for the family. Actually, you should join us if you want to, it’s a lot of fun.”

“Dinner with your family is probably more than we should be aiming for at this point. If we’re going to start dating, I have to take this slow. I meant what I said about letting Izzy get attached to people who might not always be around.”

“I’m fine with taking this slowly,” I told him. “Just so you know though, I’m not related to Nana, so it’s not exactly like I’m inviting you home to meet the folks. I love that the Dombrusos make me feel like I’m part of their family. But my real family disowned me when I came out, so getting to introduce you to my parents will never actually happen.”

“I made a lot of assumptions about you when I saw where you live. I’m sorry I accused you of being a spoiled rich kid.”

“What I actually am is a preacher’s son from a hick town outside Fresno. I grew up sharing a bedroom with two brothers in a sagging, seventy-year-old farmhouse behind our church. Nana’s world and mine couldn’t be more different,” I said. “But you don’t need to apologize. I made worse assumptions about you.” His eyelids were getting heavy, and I said softly, “I’m going to call a cab and head home, you should lock up behind me. I’ll come back for my car in the morning, since I’m feeling that whiskey.”

“Just sleep here. I can make room,” he said, sliding over on the mattress until his back was against the wall.

“Really?”

“Spending the night together probably contradicts the whole taking it slow thing, but it’s really late. And I am just talking about sleeping, not sex, since we’re both kind of drunk.”

“Okay. I’m going to go lock the door, I’ll be right back. It totally freaks me out that you leave it unlocked when you’re here alone.”

He grinned at me and said, “What with the axe murderers and all.”

“Aren’t you worried about getting robbed?”

“Have you seen this place from the outside? Who would rob it?”

I returned to the garage, locked the side door, checked that the sliding doors at the front were secured, and turned off the lights before returning to the office. As I closed the connecting door behind me, I asked, “Do you have employees who are going to show up for work in the morning and find our sleeping arrangement odd?”

“No. I work alone.”

Even after I turned off the overhead light, it wasn’t very dark. There was one window in the room, high up on the wall beside the bed, and its blinds didn’t fully block the glow of a nearby streetlamp. I took off my sneakers and hoodie and emptied my pockets before sliding under the covers with Kai. “Switch places with me,” he said. “I don’t want you to fall out of this tiny bed in the middle of the night.”

I climbed over him and he put his arm around me as I settled in with my head on his chest. “Are you going to be okay sleeping like this?” I asked. “If not, I can go sleep in the Impala or something. Those things have huge backseats.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he murmured. “This feels so good. I’ve never spent the night with anyone before, and it’s even better than I imagined.”

“Never?”

He shook his head. “Candice and I were in high school when we dated. It wasn’t like our parents would have let us have a sleep-over. For good reason, obviously.”

“What about the people you’ve dated since then?”

“What people? I told you I don’t date.”

“I thought you meant you don’t get serious with anyone. What about dating casually?”

“I haven’t been dating at all. Besides what I said before about bringing people into Izzy’s life, I also have my hands full, between raising her as a single dad and trying to run a business. Dating hasn’t been a priority.”

“If you don’t date, what do you do?”

“I occasionally hook up with random people I pick up in bars. That’s about it.”

I thought about that, then said, “Asking me out was kind of a big deal for you, wasn’t it?”

He grinned a little. “You could say that.”

“I’m sorry I messed it up so badly.”

“We both messed it up.”