Nick & Carter Holiday #12
Sunday, June 19, 2005
It's Father's Day and Nick Williams is a little sore and a little hungover from attending Mayor Jerry Brown's wedding in Oakland the day before with his ex-fireman of a husband, Carter Jones.
At the age of 82, who wouldn't be?
They're having breakfast later that morning with the two kids who've become like sons over the past couple of years.
After that, it's lunch at the Top of the Mark with even more friends.
Nick is looking forward to another big day.
And, given the holiday, it's hardly surprising when more than one father shows up.
It only seemed fitting that I found these wonderful stories this year, especially Father's Day, 2005 as Dad's Day 2022 also falls on June 19, perhaps fatherly fate is at work😉. There really is quite a bit packed into this short entry with lots of fatherly influence that will make you smile, a little sad briefly but in the end you'll walk away happy. I don't really see saying that as a spoiler because knowing the emotions of the ending in no way spoils the journey. Once again Frank W Butterfield's glimpse into Nick and Carter's life makes me bump his original Nick Williams Mystery series another notch on my TBR list.
RATING:
1198 Sacramento Street
San Francisco, CA 94108
Sunday, June 19, 2005
7:04 a.m. PDT
"Boss?"
Nick opened his eyes and said, "Yeah?"
Carter sat down on the bed next to him. From what Nick could see, his husband was wearing nothing but a green pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt that was light blue. He'd obviously been working out at his gym below the pool that was located on the other side of the garden behind the house. With a smile, he said, "Rigo's gonna be getting you up here in a minute. Yesterday was a big day at the mayor's wedding with all the dancing and all the drinking. How're you feelin'?"
Nick licked his dry lips. "A little sore, I guess." He licked his lips again. "And a little hungover."
Carter laughed. "Well, I have one of my pick-me-ups right here if you want it."
Nick rolled his eyes. "How nasty is it?"
"Not too bad. There's fresh papaya in it."
Nick sighed. "Fine."
Carter reached his arm under Nick's back and, almost effortlessly, pulled him into an upright position. That was when Nick saw the glass of bright yellow liquid sitting on the table next to the bed with a glass straw sticking out of it. Carter grabbed it, held it up for Nick, and said, "Here you go."
Taking the glass, Nick had a tentative sip. He nodded. "Not bad. Kinda sweet, kinda grassy."
"Drink it all if you can. It'll put even more hair on your chest."
Nick took another sip and then asked, "What's on the agenda for today?"
"Bob and Mario will be here for breakfast at 9."
Nick nodded. "Good. What else?" He took another sip. The yellow goop wasn't half bad.
"Then, after some pool time, we're all going to lunch in the private room at the Top of the Mark. David and Ricky are joining us with Anita, who just turned 3, by the way, and David's parents."
"Tell me their names, again."
"His name is Dr. Peter Jansen. Her name is Marie Markham. He used to be a professor down at UC Santa Cruz and even taught Bob when he was there. She's the writer."
"Right," said Nick as he remembered the fact that he'd optioned her latest novel a couple of months ago to make it into a movie at some point. "Did you ever read her book?"
"I'm the one who suggested you buy the option, Nick."
Looking into his husband's emerald green eyes, Nick said, "Some days are better than others."
Carter grinned. "There's a lotta history rolling around in your head, son. I don't expect you to remember everything." He reached over and ran his hands through Nick's hair. "Besides, this isn't a sign of dementia. You've never remembered stuff like that. That's why you keep me around."
Nick snorted and handed the almost-empty glass back to Carter who put it on the table. "I keep you around, fireman, because you're the most handsome man on seven continents."
Carter leaned forward and kissed Nick on the lips. "Wanna know why I keep you around?"
Nick kissed him back. "Sure."
"It's that famous right hook of yours."
Chuckling, Nick said, "Why? Afraid I'd land one on you if you ever left me?"
It was Carter's turn to snort. "Hell, no, son. I keep you around so I can threaten folks. I tell 'em that, if they ever cross me, I'll send you out after 'em."
"That's ridiculous, Carter Jones."
"Really?"
"You haven't threatened anyone since you told Ronald Reagan to go to hell in 1986."
Carter looked a little forlorn as he nodded and sat up. "You're right about that, son."
Nick Williams Mystery Series
In 1953, the richest homosexual in San Francisco is a private investigator.
Nick Williams lives in a modest bungalow with his fireman husband, a sweet fellow from Georgia by the name of Carter Jones.
Nick's gem of a secretary, Marnie Wilson, is worried that Nick isn't working enough. She knits a lot.
Jeffrey Klein, Esquire, is Nick's friend and lawyer. He represents the guys and gals who get caught in police raids in the Tenderloin.
Lt. Mike Robertson is Nick's first love and best friend. He's a good guy who's one hell of a cop.
The Unexpected Heiress is where their stories begin. Read along and fall in love with the City where cable cars climb halfway to the stars.
Long before the Summer of Love, pride parades down Market Street, and the fight for marriage equality, San Francisco was all about the Red Scare, F.B.I. investigations, yellow journalism run amok, and the ladies who play mahjong over tea.
Nick & Carter Holiday Series
Welcome to a year of holidays with Nick Williams and Carter Jones!
This is a series of short stories with each centered around a specific holiday.
From New Year's Day to Boxing Day, each story stands on its own and might occur in any year from the early 1920s to the first decade of the 21st Century.
Saturday Series Spotlights
Author Bio:
Frank W. Butterfield is the Amazon best-selling author of 89 (and counting) self-published novels, novellas, and short stories. Born and raised in Lubbock, Texas, he has traveled all over the US and Canada and now makes his home in Daytona Beach, Florida. His first attempt at writing at the age of nine with a ball-point pen and a notepad was a failure. Forty years later, he tried again and hasn't stopped since.
Father's Day, 2005 #12
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