The waitress scooted between the packed tables and chairs to reach us. Over the chatter and laughter of the crowd, she asked, "Can I get you two more?"
Daniel flashed his dimples and ordered another round of beer. "This is a great place." he commented. "There are pool tables inside, if you want to play."
"Do you come here a lot?" I asked, tearing off a small corner of the beer-soaked napkin and rolling it into a little ball. The warm breeze mingled with the spicy aroma of sizzling steaks and garlic-seasoned potatoes.
"Not really," he said.
I searched my mind for a way to bring up Mark; I wanted to get his honest reaction.
"I was thinking," Daniel continued, "people in Charlotte aren't that homophobic. I mean, the threatening phone calls and this incident can't be because of my article. Not that I'm trying to excuse my mistake," he added quickly. "I believe there has to be another reason. You haven't been in town long enough to make any personal enemies."
Fascinated that he had thought so much about it, I asked, "If I left town, do you think it would stop? Everything seems directed toward me…" My words trailed off into a hazy white space in my mind; the fog parted with an image of Mark and me smiling and laughing like we did years ago, here in this town with Daniel, Walterene, Ruby, Valerie, Tim, Grandma, Dad, and even Gladys the Bitch. San Francisco, my job, Emma, and my other West Coast friends dissolved into the mist; all that remained were my family and Daniel. Could this be where I belong? In spite of the bizarre events that seemed to pop up around my existence in Charlotte, I felt anchored, like I had a stake in the actions surrounding me.
A familiar voice snapped me out of my trance. "What a surprise to see you here." Mark stood over the table smiling at Daniel and me.
I almost shit.
Daniel stood and offered his handshake. "Daniel Kaperonis."
"Dan," Mark shook his hand, "no need for introductions. We've met before, several times." He pulled up a chair and signaled for the waitress; she dropped off our beers and retrieved another one for Mark.
"Mark, I didn't know you knew Daniel," I said, checking Daniel's expression, which stayed cool and unreadable.
"Oh, yeah," Mark confirmed. "We've met before." He didn't look at Daniel, but kept his eyes on me.
I studied one man, then the other, waiting for either to continue. Finally, I asked, "Where?"
Mark glanced at Daniel as it to confirm a prior pledge. Daniel didn't return his gaze. Mark shifted in his chair. "Dan has interviewed me a couple of times. So, how's Aunt Ruby doing? I called her this morning, and she said she still has another test to go through." He turned to Daniel to clarify, "Ruby's our parents' cousin, a first cousin once removed. We call her 'aunt' for simplicity."
"She's doing well. I just left her before I met up with Daniel." I checked Daniel's expression, which remained calm and detached. Does he not like Mark, or does he want to hide something from me? I had the distinct impression I could be the third wheel at this table, and that feeling began to piss me off. "Daniel, you're being awfully quiet."
"No, I was just thinking about where we might go for dinner. This place seems a little crowded." He sipped his beer and grinned at me.
Mark, not missing a dig like that, responded, "Sorry, I didn't realize you two wanted to be alone."
Daniel kept quiet.
Now I felt a little sorry for Mark; Daniel could have been more civil to my cousin. "No, Mark, that's not it. I'm glad you stopped by, but we are on our way to dinner. Why don't you stay with us and finish your beer?"
He turned up the glass and chugged the last half of his beer. "Done," he said. "Derek, Dan, good to see you both again." He stood and dropped a twenty on the table, then hurried through the crowd.
"I'll be right back," I said to Daniel, then rushed after Mark. An older man in a navy business suit had blocked Mark's retreat and patted him on the back as they talked. I stood back until he had escaped the man's grip and continued toward the back door of the restaurant. "Mark, wait up."
He stopped at the courtyard patio door. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. Anyway, I need to get home."
"You weren't intruding. Daniel's a bit uneasy around you, and I'd like to know why."
He shifted his eyes back and forth, as if that helped his mind work up an answer. "You should ask him that."
"I'm asking you."
He sighed and let his gaze settle on me. "I think he knows about Allen Harding."
"Who?"
"The ex-employee I told you about who's threatening to sue."
I couldn't remember. "Why?"
"He said we fired him because he claimed we were slack on the building codes and paid off inspectors. He's threatening to inform the city inspectors, if we don't settle." Mark ran his fingers through his hair, then paused. "Of course," he thought for a moment, "Harding's basically blackmailing us, so why would he trust a reporter?"
Mark's take on the story started to make sense to me. "You think Daniel is gathering information from Harding about the company? And about Vernon?"
"Of course. Your friend Daniel Kaperonis is trying to defeat Dad's campaign anyway he knows how, and a story about a business scandal involving Dad would suit his purposes." He shifted his weight and leaned against the wall glancing back in the direction of the restaurant. "I just don't get the connection-if Dan publishes the story, Harding's threat is gone."
"You didn't sleep with him?" I asked, my mind more interested in the personal aspect than the political.
Horror contorted his face. "Harding?"
"No, Daniel."
"Sleep with Daniel?" He laughed and shook his head. "No, no. Do you think I'm that stupid, to have sex with a reporter if I didn't want all of Charlotte knowing?" He stopped laughing when he noticed my expression. "Oh, sorry."
"Well then, why is Daniel so against you?"
"Politics, or it could be you," Mark said. "Maybe he's jealous. You didn't tell him about us, did you?" His forward stance and hardness of his eyes, almost threatening, created compassion in me because he was scared, really terrified someone might know about our relationship.
"No. I wouldn't do that."
"Well, then, unless he thinks I know he's talked to Harding, and I get the company to confront the allegations before his big story breaks," he shrugged his shoulders, "who the fuck knows?" Mark turned to leave, then stopped. "He's your boyfriend, ask him."
I rejoined Daniel at our table. He sipped his beer and took a drag from a cigarette. "Is everything all right with your cousin?" he asked.
"I thought you were a little rude to him."
"You mean the comment about it being crowded here? Sorry, but I have never really trusted Mark Harris, and I didn't want to end up spending a lot of time with him." He reached across the table and touched my hand. "You're the one I want to be with-alone."
Pulling away from his touch, I asked, "So, what do you have against Mark?"
He sighed and ground his cigarette into the ashtray. "Mark is a closet case, if you didn't already know, and I think you do. That skinny wife of his is just a cover."
"Why do you say that?" I felt sweat break out on my upper lip. This was Mark's big secret; something he would kill to keep buried. Then my mind took a different direction: I thought I was the only one. "Did you sleep with him?"
Daniel smiled. "No, but I probably could have."
"Do you know anyone who has?"
"No," he admitted.
"Then how can you say Mark is gay if he never said it and you don't have first-hand proof?" I sat back in the chair. "Gay men are so petty sometimes; if a good-looking man is nice to them or not talking about pussy every minute, he's labeled gay. Is that wishful thinking, or just trying to burn a brand on people?"