Where You'll Find Him

Chapter 1 Running late, Wolfe hurried up the stairs to his third-floor office at the YBR center. Seconds later, he stepped through the entrance doors straight into the chaos that was the third floor. Up there, people were running around, gathering flyers and flags, shouting at each other from across the long sunlit hall. He looked around for anybody in management, but of course Yvan, his coordinator, was in his office with his door shut. Today of all days? Quickly, Wolfe gave the volunteers a few directions and headed straight for his office. He desperately needed a glass of water and a moment to cool down before starting the day. It was nine in the morning, but the July sun was already scorching Montreal’s streets, and his usual pleasant walk to work had left him dehydrated. When he stepped into his office at the end of the hall, his phone was already ringing off the hook. Pretty soon, he’d have to spend the night at the center in order to actually get anything done. Standing over his cluttered desk, Wolfe slowly drank a glass of water, going over the list of things he needed Zack and Dominic to pack for the day. He hadn’t slept well, spending half of the night worrying about today, but he’d have to make an effort to perk up. Today was Pride Community Day in Montreal, and the governing board was counting on him to raise some serious funds for the YBR center. “Oh, look at you.” Zack, his right-hand man and project manager, was leaning in the doorway, watching him with a smart-ass smirk. It was a hundred degrees out there, but Zack was clad in all black, no matter the weather. The man was immune to the heat―cool and stunning as ever. “How was your night?” he asked. “Your hair looks like someone slept in it, Mr. Scarecrow.” Wolfe ran a hand though his messy brown hair, gestured for Zack to come in, and then searched for a pen through the mess on his desk. “My night? Well, let’s see, my air conditioner gave out around two A.M., and I listened to myself sweat all night. What’s up?” Zack stepped into room. “Okay, so you know how this place gets on full moons?” “Well, it’s Pride week. The season for rainbow madness.” The phone kept ringing and he stared at it in dismay. “Am I the only one who hears this freaking thing?” “Um, hey, look, I need to know who’s on at two this afternoon. ‘Cause I have, uh, that thing, you know, that appointment I can’t miss.” “Yes, of course. No problem.” Zack had another doctor’s appointment. His viral load was detectable and he was struggling with fatigue lately. “Leave at two,” Wolfe whispered. “Dominic and I will take care of the stand.” “You’re gonna stand there all day? In this sun? Man, with your complexion, you’re gonna get a sun rash or break out in hives or something.” But Wolfe waved Zack’s comment off. “Can you go make sure everyone is all right and have what they need, please?” “Yes, boss.” Zack saluted him and left. Wolf searched for the membership forms he needed to bring today. Had to recruit more active members. But he could barely see his desk under all the papers and donated books. Everyone needed something from him, and ever since Eric, the center’s previous director, had been demoted by the board and quit, the administrative assistant and activity leader had both handed in their resignation. Today, all of the organizations in the YBR center were under Wolfe’s supervision. What he needed was an army of flying monkeys, or pretty soon, he’d be the one calling a helpline for support. “Good morning,” Clare, the center’s lawyer, called out from the end of the hall. She walked up to his door and squinted at him. “Is that what you’re wearing?” Clare was an adamant civil rights lawyer with a heart as big as her booming voice. “That T-shirt is too small for you,” she said, pushing her old glasses up her nose. The frames were held together with tape. “Way too tight.” Wolfe usually wore dress pants and button-up shirts to work, but today, he’d figured jeans would be best. He was wearing one of the YBR’s T-shirts. “It’s my size exactly,” he argued. “Small.” Clare had a natural authoritative manner that worked miracles for her clients in court. “Remember what’s out there today,” she said. “All tourists. Mostly Americans who can’t handle Canadian beer in the sun, and a lot of horny guys who think you’ll help them try on the free rubber for size. Especially if the guy handing the condom out is a cute little blue-eyed boy like you.” Zack strutted back into the office, turning the van’s keys in his fingers. “Am I driving or what?” “Yes, and we should get going.” Wolfe picked up his bag, checked his e-mail one last time, and left his office. Zack and Clare followed him. In the hall, he grabbed a doughnut out of the box left open on the table. That would be breakfast. “Gimme a second,” he said to Zack, heading for Yvan’s office. He poked his head in Yvan’s office door. “So what time are you going to join us?” he asked, then took a bite of the powdered doughnut. Yvan looked up from his computer, obviously annoyed at the interruption. “You have sugar around your mouth and on your T-shirt.” “Oh.” Wolfe dusted himself off. “Thanks.” Yvan was a snobby but energetic guy with years of experience in community work. He was definitely an asset to the center, and Wolfe rarely interfered in his affairs. Yvan managed the helpline, and the recruiting and training of volunteers. However, lately, the volunteer turnaround was terrible, and Wolfe knew they’d have to sit down and look at Yvan’s program soon. He was dreading that meeting. “You don’t need me out there,” Yvan said. “Besides, I have new volunteers coming in for an interview this morning.” “Today?” Yvan only stared at him. Everyone had been with the center longer than Wolfe had, and none were keen on taking on more responsibilities from the new guy. Yes, he was still the new guy, even though he’d been appointed director by the board a year ago. “Okay,” Wolfe said uneasily. “That sounds good, but since you’ll be here, could you maybe check in with Antonio downstairs about that dinner we’re planning for our anniversary―” “I’m already swamped, Wolfie. Sorry.” Yvan smiled tensely and went back to staring at his screen. “Good luck out there today, kid.” “Thanks anyway,” Wolfe muttered, turning away from Yvan’s door. Kid. At twenty-five years old, Wolfe was the youngest director the board had ever hired in the forty years of the YBR’s existence. But his two year stretch as a social worker in the gritty streets of East Hastings, Vancouver’s notorious neighborhood, had counted for a lot in the board’s decision. “You ready?” Zack called out from the hall, near the door. Zack and Wolfe sauntered down the stairs, but on the second floor, Wolfe paused. “Let me just check in with the girls at Talk-Talk, see if they need anything―” “Nope.” Zack pulled on Wolfe’s arm. “If you go in there, they’ll keep you for hours.” “But I just need to know if Astrid needs―” “Wolfe.” Zack dragged him down the last flight of steps. Again, at the Committee of People Living with HIV door, Wolfe slowed down. “I know Antonio needs to talk to me about his ratios.” “Come on, Wolfie, let it go.” “All right. All right.” Wolfe followed Zack down the stairs and out into the back parking lot. The YBR building was in Montreal’s gay village, blocks away from the action of Sainte-Catherine Street. The center was close enough to be in the middle of things but far enough from the bars and club scene to provide privacy for the people who frequented the center. “Everything loaded up?” Wolfe opened the back door of the van. “Let me just do a quick spot check.” Zack settled into the driver’s seat, turned the engine on, and rolled down his window. He leaned his tattooed arm on the sill. “Take your time.” Already, Wolfe could feel the heat cooking him. He scanned the backseats. Everything seemed to be in order. He jumped into the passenger seat and pulled his seat belt on. “Okay, I’m ready.” “Yeah, sure? You don’t wanna check the tires or oil or maybe see if the neighbors need anything?” “Don’t tempt me. Now roll your window up and turn on that AC, please.” “No can do.” Zack drove out of the parking lot with a screech of tires. “It’s broken.” Wolfe laughed. “Ah, the joys of nonprofit work.” Zack glanced over at him with a sly smile. “We really do live it up, don’t we?” * * * * In the bedroom, Gaspard grabbed the sunscreen off the commode and rubbed more on his face and arms. Decades ago, when they’d all been in their twenties, his buddies had poked fun at his obsession with sunscreen, but now that the big fifty loomed around the corner for all of them, Gaspard was glad he’d been so paranoid about the sun back then. He’d managed to slow the hands of time a little. Yet, as young as he looked, time was catching up with him every day. More reason to go out there today and try to stir something before he turned into a hermit. “Oh, you look great,” Malena said as he walked into the living room. Malena was still in her pajamas, lounging on the couch. She definitely needed to get a job offer soon. “I like your hair like that. You look like you just rolled out of bed or something.” “Really?” Alarmed, Gaspard checked the mirror in the hall. “Well, that’s not good.” He combed his fingers through those rebellious strands he’d never really been able to tame since he was a boy. He was thankful he still had a head full of thick, blond hair. “I don’t even know why I’m going out there today anyway,” he half lied, smoothing his hair down. “You mean out in the world?” Malena motioned for him to come closer. She looked lovely with her hair tied up in a bun. “You haven’t been out all week,” she said, watching him with those vivid hazel eyes he adored. “I come home from job hunting, you’re on your computer. I go to bed, you’re on your computer.” “I have clients, remember? I’m not retired yet.” But Malena was right; he did spend way too much time on his computer. He was lonely and putting off work, wasting time online. “It looks really hot out there,” he said, changing the subject. “It’s gonna be crazy. There’s gonna be too many people out. And the heat makes everybody wild.” “Listen to yourself.” She turned the volume down on the television and gave him that look he knew too well. “You said you wanted to break down some of the gates that held you in all of your life. You moved us here, downtown, to be closer to everything. To the action. To people. But we’ve lived here for six months now, and all you ever do is work on your book and those awfully boring software programs—” “Those boring programs pay the bills. And I’m trying to be more outgoing.” Gaspard was looking out at the street. Their new apartment was on the ground floor of a four-unit building, on University Street, steps away from the McGill University campus and beautiful Mount Royal. It was a busy and restless neighborhood. He still couldn’t get used to the noise at night. All these student houses around him. He slept with earplugs and the windows closed, with the AC turned up full blast. But this place was perfect for Malena—she was walking distance from almost every job interview she’d had so far. He liked the idea of having her working so close by. “It’s just such a change,” Gaspard said, watching groups of people, all young, walk past his window on their way up to the Mount Royal. “Yes, it’s a change from living in a five-bedroom house in the burbs, I’ll admit, but remember how miserable you were in that house, after Curtis and I left for university, and Mom started sleeping over at Karen’s place more and more—” “No, I know, and you’re right.” Gaspard stepped away from the window and looked at his wise daughter. She was so brilliant. So level-headed. At least he’d done something right in his life.