Coming Together: With Pride (23 page)

Come see, come see.

What the fuck was wrong with him today? Getting distracted by visions of the town bad-boy and hearing voices. Somehow, Marten doubted he could blame either on nicotine withdrawal.

Marten popped open the door on the big four door fridge unit. A not-quite-dry plate off the sink became host to a thin slice of pie. Avie would yell at him if he served up a decent sized portion. She tried to hoard every last bit. Marten shouldered the door shut as he headed toward the counter.

Hunched over the counter, staring into the depths of a battered coffee mug sat Raven. The sight knocked him hard in the gut, turned his bones to jelly. Marten stood in the kitchen door holding the plate. He couldn't move. He couldn't just go up to him and talk. Why was he in the coffee shop? Raven belonged outside, part of
that
world. The world on the other side of the glass.

"Hey!" Avie's voice jerked his attention away from Raven. She glared at him with her tiny, black eyes. "You gonna stand there with a finger up your nose? Work boy!" Clicking her tongue against her teeth, Avie shook her head and returned to whatever problem the ancient coffee maker presented.

Marten swallowed and turned his attention back to Raven. Bright black eyes laughed at him.

Busted!
the voice teased, hard.

Shuddering, Marten crossed the few steps to the counter. Then he dropped the plate in front of the dark haired man. "What," Marten grabbed the lip of the counter and leaned over, up close, "are you doing here?" He kept his tone low so Avie wouldn't hear.

"Having a cup of coffee and something to eat." Grabbing a fork, Raven picked at the pie. Without looking at Marten, he asked. "What are you doing?"

"Working."

"Right, working." Raven's voice sounded almost, but not quite, like the voice in Marten's head. Maybe it was just all sorts of the same seduction. "It's too nice a day for working. The sun's finally coming out." Using the coffee mug as a pointer, Raven swung his hand toward the dingy front window. "You ought to play hooky."

His smile tempted Marten more than Marten wanted to admit. Stuffy kitchens and rank dishwater weren't half as appealing as the open sky. But, he couldn't lose this job. He needed to put things by, and Avie was the only one who'd given him a chance. "No, I need to work." If he said it out loud enough times, maybe he'd believe it. "I have to work." Marten took a deep breath and pushed himself from the counter. As he walked away, he shot over his shoulder, "Finish your coffee and get out." Damn if Avie got irked at him for being rude. He'd figure out something to say to placate her.

Marten managed four steps when Raven slammed the cup down on the counter. The thud got everyone's attention. Marten spun to see Raven perched on the counter, his fists balled and bracing his weight. "That's so not fair!" Raven sputtered.

"What?" Marten and Avie spoke almost as one.

Indignant and hurt, Raven softened his tone. "You promised!"

Marten blinked. "What did I promise?"

"What did he promise?" Avie spoke to Raven but glared at Marten. What the fuck was Raven doing to him?

"The other day." Raven smiled at the mousy woman with sad eyes. "He promised to help me cut wood for my grandfather."

Marten sputtered. "I did not!" This was the first time he'd ever talked to Raven. Insane did not even begin to describe the situation.

"Yes, you did." Raven insisted. "You said that the first decent day before the big frosts hit, you'd come help me. I can't do it on my own. It's too big a job for one person."

It took a moment for Marten to resuscitate his shocked vocal cords. "I did not promise, and I'm working right now."

"If you made a promise to help him," Avie chided, "you ain't gonna weasel out of it like that."

"What do you mean?" Marten ran his nails over his scalp.
What the fuck was happening? Why was Avie buying into Raven's con?
Not like the guy was a good actor or anything. "I didn't promise him shit! I barely even know him!"

Avie's pinched face went even narrower as she screwed her mouth into a thin line. Suddenly, this was between her and Marten. "Then you shoulda thunk about promising, huh?"

Crap!
Avie had a thing about living up to your word.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry." Raven dropped into his chair and smacked his forehead with his palm.
Gotcha.
The contrite act was hardly supported by the mischievous glint in his eyes. "You didn't tell your boss. Fuck, I'm sorry." He offered a big, wide grin to Avie while ostensibly directing his words to Marten. "'Cause I know how much you respect the old folks, and it probably just slipped your mind." Shaking his head, Raven stood. He held up his hands as if in surrender. "But, you're right, you're working." Softening his smile to a knowing smirk, Raven leaned toward Avie. "You know, all Marten ever does is talk about what a wonderful, kind hearted person Avie is. So great to work for and always thinking of other people first. So big hearted and so busy all the time. You're just a role model for him."

Avie preened, running a hand behind her ear and tugging at the front of her tan uniform. "A role model?"

"Yeah," soft and seductive Raven continued the lie, "he tells me all the time how wonderful you are and how he wants to be just like you."

Marten sputtered, "I do not…" and choked on the rest when Raven shot him a glare. A quick glance at Avie's pinched face told Marten to back track into a white lie. He swallowed and mumbled, "Not all the time."

"You're a good kid, Martin." Avie smiled at the perceived praise. Coming up next to him, she ruffled his sleek, brown hair in a motherly way. Softly, like she didn't want Raven to hear, Avie chided him, "You don't want people talking about you like they talk about him. That he's shifty and doesn't pull his weight. You're big hearted. You just mess up sometimes." Then she squeezed his shoulder and said louder, "Go on and help the old man. I can make do here."

"But..."

"No." She swatted the back of his head. "Git!" Another swat, this time to his ass, sent Marten scooting toward the door. Raven bounced along at his heels. "I'll be fine on my own," Avie called as Marten grabbed his dark brown coat off the rack near the door. "You be good, work…" The last of it was cut off by the jangle of the bell when Marten yanked open the door.

As he shrugged into his coat, Marten let the door bang shut in his wake. He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed off down the sidewalk. The clatter-thunk behind him told Marten someone followed. He didn't have to be a genius to guess who.

"Hey!" Harsh and strident the voice broke through the air. "Hey!" Marten hunkered into his brown coat and kept walking. "Aren't you going to thank me?"

He stopped and glared over his shoulder. "For what?"

"For getting you a day off?" Raven jogged up, his long black coat flapping behind him. A whispery,
asshole
, fluttered at the base of his brain.

Reaching into his shirt pocket, Marten grabbed his pack of smokes. His other hand fished in his coat for a book of matches. For a moment, he lost himself in the ritual of drawing out a cigarette with his teeth, folding over the cover on the matchbook, lighting and inhaling. After the second puff, he growled a question of his own. "Why are you always hanging out here?"

Raven's eyebrows shot up and his mouth twisted into the already characteristic smirk. "Why not?" He pushed his glossy black hair behind one ear. Silver rings flashed, two on his hand and one through the cartilage of his ear. "It's as good a place as any."

Marten took another deep drag. "Don't you have a job?" As he blew out the smoke, he resumed walking toward home. Not like there was anywhere else to go in the Podunk little town.

"This is my job." Falling into step beside Marten, Raven chuckled. "I do it well."

That made no sense and Marten challenged him with a sharp, "Hanging out?"

Raven bumped his shoulder, causing Marten to almost walk into a magazine rack. "Making people think, question, confront their fear."

Marten managed to sidle around without mishap. "In you?"

"In themselves."

"You're whacked."

"No," another dry laugh, "I'm Raven."

Finished with the cigarette, Marten flicked it into the gutter. "What the fuck kinda name is Raven for a guy?"

"It's my fuck kinda name, and I like it," Raven shot back. "I think it fits. Don't you?"

"You're weird." Out of habit, Marten checked for non-existent traffic before heading across the street.

"I thought you said I was whacked." Raven dogged his steps. "Where are we going?"

Five blocks down the clapboard and cinderblock town faded into meadow. It was as if the street just decided it didn't want to go any farther and gave up.

"What do you mean we, white boy?"

Beyond the short field rose the forest. Marten headed there, toward where he lived. Still matching him step for step, Raven shrugged. "I'm bored, what are we doing tonight?"

"Well, I'm going home." Marten jerked his chin toward the woods beyond. "What you're doing… I don't know."

"Home is boring."

"I have work tomorrow. I have real, put-bread-on-the-table work."

Raven grunted dismissively and smacked his shoulder with an open fingered hand. "You're too young to be dead already. If you're not working then we need to go somewhere."

"No. I am working."

"No, you're clocking time." Sultry and seductive, Raven wheedled, "Working has meaning. Working should give back to the world. It's not just about putting bread on the table."

Marten shook off the suggestion. "Maybe for you." As seductive as that thought was, he couldn't buy into it. "Eating has higher meaning to me."

Hands outstretched for balance, coat tails flapping in the wind, Raven minced along the curb like he was walking a ten foot tall wall. "Okay," Raven snorted. "I'll give you that. What are we eating?"

"Again with the we."

Raven jumped and spun, coming to rest directly in Marten's path. Bright eyes flashing, he leaned in close. "Come on, you like me."
You do, you do.

Marten refused to give in. "I do not." He stepped around the other man.

From behind, Raven's voice struck him. "I bet you've thought about what I look like naked." The dead on guess, it had to be a guess, caused Marten to jerk short. It happened so fast, he damn near tripped over the curb. He swallowed and tried to think. Nothing, not even that damnable little voice in his head, responded.

"The silence says it all." Raven came up close behind him. "You know it, Marten. They talk about
me
to my face. They whisper about
you
behind your back. But I listen to all of it. Come on then, where are we going?"

Where was he going? Nowhere, really. Avie's place was just a job. Beyond the ability to buy smokes and grub, he didn't give a rat's ass about it. He was stuck in a dead end job in a dead end town.

Marten looked back down the street and then at the sky. Neither held the answers he needed. The last place his gaze fell was on Raven's sharp face. A little too thin maybe, but that smirk and wild hair had a lot going for it. And out in the cool air, Raven smelled all musky and warm. It was heady, intoxicating. Marten chewed on one sharp fingernail before answering, "My place." His voice sounded husky and desperate even to his own ears.

"Perfect!" Raven leaned in. The smell of him washed over Marten like a roaring river.
Just perfect.

For a moment, they stood there, not touching, but not needing to. Raven's bright black eyes, locked on Marten's. He found himself smiling. It felt feral. It felt wonderful. "Let's go then." Marten nodded and started to walk.