Fierce & Fabulous (Sassy Boyz) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Fitch called after church. He tried not to think of it as a test, but it was. If Ansel didn’t answer, he could be pretty sure about the potential future of their relationship. And this time he’d let go.

“Hey.” Ansel sounded hurried when he picked up on the second ring.

Fitch ignored the rush of relief that left his lungs. “I’m on my way to brunch with the family, but I wanted to hear your voice.”

Even over the phone he knew Ansel was rolling his eyes when he spoke, “Stalker. I’m working here.”

Fitch chuckled. “Okay, bye.”

About an hour later, his phone buzzed with a text. His mother squinted at him. They weren’t supposed to have their phones at the dinner table, but he’d forgotten it was in his pocket.

“Sorry.” He pulled it out to switch it off but checked the message first.

You gave me a hickey, jackass.

He struggled to hide his amusement, and embarrassment, as he silenced his phone and shoved it back into his jeans.

“Something funny?” Meg asked. Nosy brat.

“Nope.”

Later, while Meg was helping in the kitchen, Fitch sent a quick reply.

I had to wear long sleeves to cover the scratches on my arm. It’s fucking hot today.

Ansel’s answer was an emoticon with its tongue sticking out.

Things were quiet for the rest of the evening. They did a good job of keeping his father’s mind off of the appointment. Fitch directed the conversation toward sports when he could, and his sister prattled on about school more than she ever had before. By the time they left, his dad was fast asleep in his favorite chair and their mom was whispering her thanks.

If he felt any misgivings as he hugged his parents goodbye and kissed his sister on the cheek, he ignored them. There really was nothing to tell—yet. He still had time.

He wasn’t lying.

Ansel called around ten and they’d chatted while he rode the train to the club.

The next morning Fitch woke to find two messages from Ansel.

Going onstage soon. Wish you were here.

Slow night. Only the weirdos party on Easter.

The last one was delivered at two in the morning. Fitch looked at the clock and decided not to wake Ansel with a call. He sent a text instead.

Hope you had sweet dreams, Angel.

He went to work with a little swagger in his step and the crew noticed.

“Looks like someone finally got laid,” one of the welders said.

“About damn time,” another one answered. “I thought we’d have to deal with his grumpy ass ’til Christmas.”

“Hey, boss, who’s the lucky lady?” asked Remy, his best mason.

Surprised by the question and the topic, Fitch floundered under the scrutiny. He couldn’t very well tell a group of hardhats that he’d been daydreaming about cock, could he? Not if he wanted to keep their respect. He could picture the shit show that would happen if they found out. No doubt more than half would walk out on the build, and the rest would try to kick his ass just for being queer. No, until the end of this remodel, he’d keep his relationship a secret. He couldn’t risk the backlash.

“Uh-oh, he don’t wanna answer. She must be ugly as shit.” One of the laborers laughed.

“That true, boss? Did you end up in one of them beer goggle situations?” The five guys standing around chuckled.

“My cousin had one of them, ended up marrying the hag.” Another round of guffaws.

Feeling guilty for being such a chickenshit, Fitch ground his back molars. “Fuck off, all of ya, and get back to work.” He stomped off to grumbles about the return of his bad attitude and how the ass he’d plowed must not have been that great.

Around three he got Ansel’s reply and suddenly his crappy afternoon wasn’t so bad.

Sorry, overslept. Late to work. Talk later.

Fitch waited to call back until he was alone and could talk freely without worrying one of the guys would overhear his conversation. He was in the kitchen making a sandwich, the TV on in the background, when he dialed again and put the phone on speaker.

“Hi,” Ansel answered.

“Busy?”

“I’ve got a few minutes. We’re in the middle of rehearsal, but I asked for a break.”

“How was your day?”

“A bitch, same as always. Yours?”

He sighed as he spread mustard on his bread. “The crew asked if I got some because, apparently, I was acting like I won the lotto.”

Ansel breathed softly. “What did you say?”

“Not a damn word.” He couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth, how freaked out he’d been, how he wasn’t able to make the confession because he was a goddamn pussy.

“Z was wondering if I was coming down with the flu last night because, in his words, I wasn’t being my usual trampy self.”

“That’s harsh.” Fitch tried to focus on Ansel instead of his own issues as he layered the meat, cheese and sliced tomatoes.

“Nah, that’s actually pretty sweet for Z.”

“So, you haven’t mentioned...” He paused to consider his next words, but Ansel answered before he could finish his thought.

“Us? No. They know about you because they saw you the other day, but no, I haven’t said anything about our arrangement.”

Arrangement.
That was an odd word choice. It made Fitch feel like they were doing something seedy.

“Why? Are you going to tell people?”

If he were dating a woman, his family would already know about her. “Yeah, I mean, eventually. Not right now, but it’s not a secret. Is it?”

It wasn’t the right moment. His parents were going through a tough time. He didn’t want to add any stress on top of the worry about his dad’s health. He didn’t believe they’d disown him, but that didn’t mean they’d be happy. His mom wanted grandkids so bad she’d pestered the crap out of him when he was with Sara. And she hadn’t even liked his ex.

“No.” The way Ansel extended the single syllable, it sounded like he wasn’t so sure. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ve got to go. They’re calling me back.”

“Bye, Angel.” Fitch hung up and brought his sandwich to the couch. He spent the rest of the night thinking about how to tell his parents he was dating a man.

And not just any man, but one who liked to wear makeup and heels. A man who danced half-naked for tips.

He was struggling to be okay with that last bit. How could he expect his parents to accept it?

* * *

For Ansel, the first few days after Easter weekend were a blur. He was busy with work, rehearsals and dancing at the club. He didn’t have time to think about his budding relationship. But after the first night, drinking only a couple beers and keeping his flirts to a minimum, the boys picked up on the change in his behavior. Z was the only one who mentioned it, but Ansel caught the side-eyes and curious looks from the other two.

He didn’t say anything. Part of him was nervous talking about it would be like ensuring your birthday wish didn’t come true. Another part was simply being selfish. Fitch was his. He didn’t want to share.

And maybe that made him a toddler with a new toy, but fuck it. He didn’t let people wear his new shoes when he got them either.

He lived by the motto
I
licked it so it’s mine.

He’d seen it on a T-shirt somewhere and it’d stuck with him ever since. Perfectly accurate for his mental state, especially in regards to Fitch. Plus, he’d never done the whole dating thing and he didn’t want the boys to start with their squealing and clapping.

After all, he was still convinced it wouldn’t work out in the end.

In fact, after his last conversation with Fitch, he was one hundred percent sure their arrangement was going to go down in a ball of flames.

He was also sure he was going to hold on until the very last minute. Because Fitch made him laugh without being sarcastic. Fitch made him smile without being rude. And when they were together, he didn’t feel the need to act like someone else. He’d always been himself around Fitch. The guy looked at him with those warm brown eyes and made him feel like he had wings. Like, if he wanted, he could fly to the moon and bring back stars.

“Earth to Ansel! Jesus, where is your head?” Z snapped his fingers in front of his eyes.

“Bitch, get out of my face before I punch you in the throat and make you taste the rainbow.”

Tam snickered. “You were daydreaming, Ansel.”

“Seriously, first you ask to take five so you can answer a mysterious phone call then you zone out in the middle of Tam’s instructions?” Lirim let the questions hang.

“Not to mention I haven’t seen you this sober since we met.”

“Shut up, Z, that makes me sound like an alcoholic.”

Z’s dark brow rose, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“You have been acting strange,” Tam said.

Ansel pushed hair off his face. “It’s nothing. Christ, I’m just sort of seeing someone.”

“I knew it.” Z punched a fist in the air then gave Lirim the finger.

Lirim shook his head. “Dick.”

“Who?”

“Duh, it’s that guy. What was his name? Phillip?”

“Fitch. And you’re an idiot.” He picked at the chipping polish on his thumb.

“What do you mean ‘seeing’? Like
seeing
, seeing? Or just seeing?”

He tried to puzzle out Lirim’s question. “I have no idea what you just asked.”

“He means are you fucking or dating?” Z translated.

He crossed to the speakers. “Dating. Are we going to stand around gossiping like a bunch of high school cheerleaders or are we going to finish this choreo?”

“Dating? For real?” This was accompanied by Tam’s big doe eyes. “Exclusively?”

He sighed and rested his hands on his hips. “Yes. Jesus, it’s not a big deal. He doesn’t sleep around so, yeah. We’re going to try being exclusive. Really, it’s not a big deal.”

“You said that already,” Z said with a smart-ass grin on his face.

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d kick your ass.” Instead, he flipped him off. “Can we please get back to work now?”

“Bless my heart, I never thought I’d see the day that Ansel Becke didn’t want to talk about his sex life. It’s a goddamn miracle.” Lirim held his hands up as if he were praying to the heavens, and everyone laughed.

A minute later, they were running through Tam’s dance to Gaga’s “Applause” and he didn’t have to hide his smile.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lars called for the first time that night. Ansel clutched the phone and smiled into the mirror as the guys rushed around behind him in the dressing room getting ready for their performance.

“Hey,” Lars said. “Sorry it took me so long to call you.”

“No biggie, how are you?” Ansel asked.

“Okay. Looks like I have to take a few extra classes in the summer to be ready for Columbia in the fall, but it’s not so bad. There’s a girl in my study group who likes dancing and she got all excited when I told her about you.” Ansel could hear the smile in his brother’s voice, and laughed.

“Is she pretty?”

“Oh yeah. Thanks for being a great wingman.”

“You’re welcome. And all without being there. Just wait until you’re in the city, I’ll introduce you to all the girls. If not me, then Z will be more than willing to help.”

From the corner of the dressing room Z snickered. “Between the two of us he’ll have more dates than he knows what to do with.”

Lars chuckled. “I heard that.”

“I think that was the point.”

“Where are you? It seems loud.”

“We’re backstage at the club. Our show starts in about twenty minutes.”

“Oh, do you need to go?”

“In a bit, it won’t take me too long to finish getting ready. So, tell me, what else is new?”

“Not much, I’ve mostly been studying. I got a C on my last American Lit test so Mom has been on me. I have a makeup exam next week.”

“Is Mr. Hine still teaching American Lit?”

Lars groaned. “Yes, the guy is as old as the poems he’s teaching us. I swear he’s a vampire or something.”

Ansel laughed. “I thought the same thing when I was taking his class. He’s got the beadiest little eyes.”

“Yes!” Lars chuckled with him and their camaraderie lifted some invisible weight from Ansel’s shoulders.

“What are you studying now?”

“The test was on Poe.”

“Ah, one of my favorites. ‘And all I loved—I loved alone,’” Ansel quoted. “Listen, if you want help, I did okay in that class before...” He trailed off because they both knew what happened and neither of them needed a reminder.

It was too nice just having a conversation about meaningless things with his brother. There was no need to bring up the past. Especially since there was nothing either of them could have done to change it.

“Showoff,” Lars said with a smile in his voice. “But thanks. I might take you up on that offer. I suck with anything that isn’t math or science.”

The exact opposite of Ansel. He’d excelled in English, Creative Writing and Art. Basically anything that allowed him to express himself without fear.

Or, at least,
less
fear. There had always been an undercurrent of angst no matter where he was.

“No problem, just give me a call. Whenever.”

As hard as it had been to accept his brother suddenly showing up out of nowhere, now Ansel found himself basking in the connection. It was so refreshing, that link and the safety that went with it. After all this time, he wondered how he’d ever lived without it.

Tam came up behind him and squeezed his shoulder. “We’re on in ten,” he said, meeting Ansel’s eyes in the mirror.

Ansel nodded at his friend and the understanding in his gaze. “Okay, Lars. It’s showtime so I’d better let you go and finish getting glammed up.”

“Sure, okay.”

“It was really nice to hear from you. I hope you’ll call again soon. Or, you know, visit. Anytime. You know where I am.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. And I will.”

“Great. Then, I guess I’ll see you. Or talk to you. Soon.”

“Definitely. Bye. And break a leg. Or whatever the saying is.”

When he hung up, Z, Lirim, and Tam surrounded him with their friendly eyes and happy smiles. Like they could feel what he felt, the lightness. The relief. And it made him happy to think that a little bit of his joy was touching them too. God knew, they all deserved some happy in their lives.

* * *

“I told my friends about us,” Ansel said over the phone.

Fitch held back his shock, but only because Ansel’s voice was so tentative. “You did? When?”

“They interrogated me after we hung up yesterday.”

He couldn’t interpret Ansel’s tone. “And?”

“That’s okay, right?”

“Of course it is. I’m kind of relieved, to be honest.”

“Really?”

“After our last conversation I got the impression you were keeping it a secret. And—”

“That’s not your style.” Now there was the Ansel he knew. The teasing laugh eased the pressure under his sternum.

“I guess I’m predictable.” Fitch fluffed the pillow behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

“Maybe a little. But that’s not a bad thing. You’re steady. Steady is good. Trust me.”

“As long as it’s not boring.”

“No way, Grumpy Bear. You’re far from boring.”

“So, how’d they take it?”

Ansel’s chuckle made him smile. “I think they were more surprised than I am, really. They’ve known me a long time and I’ve never dated anyone before. They acted like it was the second coming of Jesus.”

Fitch’s grin grew at the pleased annoyance in Ansel’s words. “They seem like a handful.”

“More than, but I love ‘em.”

“Sounds like me and my sister. She is the biggest pain in my ass, but I’d do anything for her.”

“I got that impression the night we met, but I think you’d pretty much do anything for anybody. You’ve got a kind heart.”

The pressure under his sternum came back, but this time it wasn’t unpleasant. It was warm and soothing.

“Thanks.” His voice came out gruff so he cleared his throat and adjusted his position on the bed. “So, how long have you known them? The guys.”

“Feels like forever.” Ansel paused. “I met Z when I was still on the streets with Ray. We sometimes crashed in the same shelter when the weather was bad. Lirim was already at Prism Center when I joined, he showed me around and I eventually brought Z in. Tam was the last to join, actually he’s still living there. We’ve been through some shit together, you know, stuff that bonds people like family.”

“I’m glad you all found each other, Angel. That you weren’t alone.”

“Yeah, me too. What about you? Do you have any friends you’re super close with? I’ve only ever heard you talk about your family.”

“I have a few, but no one I’m as tight with as you are with your friends. Really, we only ever talk when one of us wants a wingman or there’s a big game.”

“Oh, well, that’s still nice.”

He thought about breaking the news to Rob and the others that he was dating a guy and winced. They weren’t homophobic, Fitch would never have put up with it because of Meg, but he couldn’t picture them understanding. He couldn’t really picture anyone understanding, but he needed to grow some balls quick. The way his heart seemed to soar whenever he heard Ansel’s voice told him this thing wasn’t going to go away. And soon there’d be no hiding his excitement.

“I should probably call them soon, actually. It’s been a while. A lot of things have changed, so catching up would be...good.”

Ansel was quiet for a second too long and Fitch knew he’d sensed his apprehension. Especially when he said, “You don’t have to tell them for my sake.”

“It’s not that.” He tried to find the right words. “I just don’t know how to explain
us
in a way that everyone will grasp. Most days I can barely wrap my own brain around how I feel about you. I just keep thinking how they’ll look at me, wondering if I’ve secretly been eying their junk all those times we shared a locker room together or something.”

He breathed out forcefully enough that the fringe near his forehead ruffled, and Ansel laughed on the other end of the line.

“It’s not funny,” Fitch complained with a smile.

“Sorry, but in the scheme of things, that worry seems pretty minor.” Though he’d stopped laughing, Fitch could still hear the humor in his tone.

“Yeah, which is why I’m going to grow up and rip off the Band-Aid. Soon.”

“If you really want to.” There was a note of sympathy and a hint of indulgence in Ansel’s answer.

“I do, Angel.” He let that sink in for a minute. And although Ansel didn’t reply, the silence was comforting. After a few minutes, he thought maybe Ansel had fallen asleep, but the rustle of fabric told him differently. He looked at the bedside clock and cursed under his breath. It was late, and he was exhausted, but he really didn’t want to hang up the phone.

So he didn’t.

Who cared about tomorrow when he had Ansel’s attention right now?

“Oh!” Ansel said, finally breaking the silence. “I almost forgot. Lars called.”

How could two words radiate so much emotion? Joy and gratitude and astonishment all colored Ansel’s voice to the point that Fitch had the mad desire to get in his car and rush to his apartment just so he could see his face.

“Did you have a nice chat?” Stupid question considering how happy Ansel sounded.

“He told me about his classes, and studying, and a girl he met who likes dance. It was just silly stuff, but it was nice.” The last word sounded a little self-conscious, and the tension in Fitch’s chest coiled tighter. He couldn’t imagine never seeing his sister again, never talking to her. She was like another limb sometimes. They’d been close their whole lives, even though he was older.

“I’m sure he feels the same way, Angel.”

“Yeah. I think he does. Crazy, huh?”

“Nope, crazy would be not seeing how wonderful you are.”